A Medieval Mishap
OOC: This is just on of many captures I'm going to use this plotline for. So yeah.
The faded sky quietly evolved from a polished gray to a warm orange as the tireless sun rose over the rolling hills. Dewdrops glimmered in the awakened light, the nearby jungle already chattering with the sounds of tropical Pokemon. A nearby stone castle rose majestically over its grassy domain and the people were already scurrying about attending their usual work.
They say that ignorance is bliss. If this is true, than the townsfolk were the merriest people on the earth. While they talked cheerfully with neighbors and politely finished their chores, evil was brewing beneath the center palace. You wouldn’t guess it by looking at it, for it was adorned with lots of lace and newly applied paint, all of which were bright and vivid colors. The royal family who occupied it even wore frilly clothes. However, the basement was a despicable place, hidden from the eye of the public. It had become the lair of the notorious Lord Castor, whose inhumane experiments on wild Pokemon can only be described as tyrannical. Our story today, however, is focused upon the life of one of Castor’s subjects. An Ekans, to be exact.
Ekans was small for his species, no doubt. A pigmy of snakes, almost more like a worm in size and attitude. He was extremely mellow, and the vast number of painful experiments he endured had turned his normal violet sheen to a dusty indigo. His cage was cramped and damp, with nothing to keep him warm except a thin layer of straw to lie in. Nevertheless, his intelligence was impaired so he put up with his poor lifestyle. It was sometime in the summer now, and the town’s jousting team was headed for the finals that weekend. Ekans could have cared less. He was always locked up, forbidden from any sort of association to the outside world. Bored, he would sleep for hours at a time, waiting for his master to come up with a new idea that would cause him immeasurable amounts of pain.
It was during one of these sleeping episodes that the balding warlock in his moth eaten robes and warped, wooden sandals created something so incredible, he ran down the street laughing like a maniac. With his fist held up straight to the heavens, Castor wove between peasants and knights, cackling loudly.
“I’ve done it! I’ve done it!” he screeched, his rotten teeth shaking from the strain. A couple of paladins recognized him as the tenant, Lord Castor, whom lived in the castle’s old dungeon. Everyone had thought of him as a senile old man, so why was he racing through town like a freak?
“Oi, Castor! What’s ‘a matter wit you?” One paladin called, but the old warlock merely spat at him in his frenzy. The large glob landed on a newly polished boot, and the knight’s face turned beet red. Everyone was thoroughly convinced of this man’s insanity now, so they proceeded to chase him down in an attempt to lock him up for being possessed. Realizing his mistake, Castor took off towards his dungeon, hoping to escape the metal plated fools who pursued him. He weaved past carts and donkeys, while the knights struggled in their heavy armor. He turned into an alley, and hopped a small dividing wall into a deserted courtyard. Panicking, Lord Castor ran to the opposite end before realizing it was closed off. He could hear the clanking of iron boots approaching and the cries of startled townsfolk. Suddenly, the scent of warm maple scones wafted to him. He looked up to a plate of them sitting in an old window. The paint was cracked and the wood splintered, but it was open! The warlock reached for a plank of cedar wood that had been resting in a stack nearby. He ran a ways back, turned and ran towards the wall. The large plank stuck into the ground and lifted Castor off the ground and up to the window. It was a tight fit, but he squeezed through and proceeded down the stairs, through the decorative hallway and out the door. He was only a couple blocks away from his filthy dungeon now, and the old coot made a break for it. As the warlock ran, he couldn’t help but glance at the small, blue cylindrical capsule he had been clenching in his fist.
Ekans awoke to the sound hysterical screaming and thundering footsteps. He sleepily glanced out the small, semi-circled window at the room’s ceiling, but the dusty bars Castor had place over it prevented much visibility. A large cart selling some sort of miniature orange careened by, and a couple of the bizarre fruit were tossed off and rolled in through the bars. They fell onto an old rickety table, bounced a few times, and finally stopped before the door. Ekans wondered why the salesmen would be selling rotten food, because everywhere the merchandise landed, a slimy area was left. Was that supposed to be edible? His thoughts were disturbed, however, by the noise of feet awkwardly stumbling down the damp steps leading the room he occupied. The wooden door crashed open, leaving a dent in a shelf behind it. Lord Castor nearly fell into the room, his eyes wild with fear. He waved his arms for balance, and eventually caught himself.
“Whew, that was close,” the warlock sighed. He tended to talk to himself, but Ekans liked to think that the comments were directed at him. “I nearly fell over. I did not, however, because I am so incredible,” sad Castor smugly, who then proceeded to slip and fall on the rotten fruit. Crestfallen and embarrassed, he pulled himself up and brushed himself off with the palm of his hands. It was a few seconds before he realized that something had originally been in his hand. Castor’s eyes widened and he scrambled on the floor again for his capsule. When unable to find it, he broke into silent sobs and sat on the stone floor for ten minutes with his head in his hands. Finally, the old man stood up and his eyes fell on Ekans. More accurately, on the small pill that had landed in the suspended cage when he fell. Ekans was already sniffing it, curiosity bubbling up in his mind.
“No! Don’t eat that, you fool!” he cried and dove for the cage. It was too late, however, for Ekans had encased it in his long, pointed tongue and swallowed it whole. Lord Castor began shaking uncontrollably, but before he could strangle Ekans for the capsule the authorities smashed open his door and jumped him. Screaming, the warlock flailed about in an attempt to break free. Limbs were flying everywhere, while assortments of equipment were smashed and overturned. Among those was Ekans’ cage, which fell to the ground with a bang and shattered. The snake, terrified by the commotion, lunged onto the table and flung himself out the window, barely slithering his way through the bars.
The outside world was new to Ekans, who had been locked up all his life. He had hid under a wheelbarrow all day, shrunken back from the constant pound of feet and the guillotine of wheels. The noise was near deafening, and there was nothing to eat except a dead rat Ekans had found under the same wheelbarrow. Once, a little boy had seen him slithering about warily and thought it fun to throw things at him. The projectiles tended to miss, but they were heavy things like boots and rocks, so when one landed on his head, Ekans was seeing Staryu for a while. It was dark now and the bustle of light was diminishing by the second. Cautiously, Ekans crept from under the bucket and slithered down the street, glancing at the huts in case a light suddenly flicked on. He made it all the way to the town entrance without being seen. Ekans glanced forward, but his eyes were drawn higher and higher until they reached the top of the twenty foot tall iron gate blocking his way. Ekans stared at the monstrosity for a minute, and then proceeded to slip between the iron bars. Not much of a barrier, Ekans shrugged. It was pitch black now, and the howls of wild Pokemon echoed from the jungle across the plains. Frightened, he raced alongside the outside of the brick wall, the instincts of his ancestors pushing him on.
Eventually, Ekans reached a worn out shack made of mud, the shingles cracked and the windows shattered. The door was unhinged, so Ekans took no time to enter his new shelter. The floorboards creaked under even his tiny weight, and the wind whistled through small cracks in the wall. It was chilly inside, much colder than it was outside, and the shrieks of Pokemon growled faintly from the west. A pile of firewood sat in the corner, covered in cobwebs. Ekans slithered over to it, and after a few minutes of examination, he curled up underneath it to keep warm. The melodic noises of the wilderness acted as a lullaby for the exhausted snake, and he drifted off into a restless sleep. Little did he know that two coruscating eyes were observing him from the hayloft above.
Ekans awoke with a start. The night was silent again, except for a small creaking of the floorboards. What was in here with him? Trembling, Ekans peeked through a hole in the woodpile. At first he couldn’t see anything, but the air in front of him began to shimmer. Suddenly, a purplish face with jewel like eyes materialized right in front of him. Ekans screamed and jerked back, startled by the sudden Pokemon. The Sableye cackled happily and jumped back, clearly amused at the fright of the snake. Ekans streaked from the firewood pile and under an old furnace. He pressed himself up against the wall and started trembling. The Sableye refused to be denied, however, and filled the shack with a blanket of darkness. Ekans was unable to see anything, and panicked. He dashed out again and headed for the door. Before he could escape the darkness of Sableye’s Night Shade though, the ghost struck him in the side. Ekans was thrown out a window by the impact, shattered glass raining down on him. Ekans pulled himself up slowly, only to be bashed in the side of the head by a glowing claw. Ekans skidded along the ground, dazed by the Shadow Claw, but he got off a shot of toxic needles in Sableye’s direction. The ghost’s eyes glinted and it leapt out of the Poison Sting’s path, only to come down at Ekans with another Shadow Claw. The snake leapt back, but the loose dirt underneath sprayed up, blinding him. He continued to spit the needles randomly and eventually some met their target. Sableye winced as the toxin entered its bloodstream, weakening it. Growling, it thrust a swirling ball of dark aura at Ekans, whom took a direct hit and was thrown across the yard. Bruised and tired from the Shadow Ball, Ekans puffed out an icy haze to act as a cover. He slithered out of reach and hid in an abandoned burrow.
“Screeaaahh!” The Sableye shrieked, unable to locate its prey. At that moment, a man running alongside a Houndoom raced up. The dog spat a dazzling eruption of flames toward the ghost. Sableye was enveloped in the fire, screaming in pain. Pulling farther back, it shot another ball of aura into the dirt ahead of Houndoom, attempting to blind it. The ominous creature merely darted through it, fangs glowing red hot. The Fire Fang smashed straight into Sableye, tossing it up into the humid air. Houndoom jumped after it and proceeded to smash into it with claws and teeth, over and over. The Beat Up was the final blow for the jewel eyed villain as it plummeted to earth with a loud thump. The human, whom had been watching from the sidelines until now, pulled out some strange looking rope and attempted to tie up Sableye. Not willing to become a slave, the Pokemon bit his hand. With a yelp, he withdrew for a moment before holding the ghost down with a muddy boot. Still struggling, the Sableye clawed at the foot for what seemed an eternity. Ekans was watching the ordeal from his hole. His area was still covered in the fog he had sprayed, so his vision was a bit murky. Had the Sableye been successfully imprisoned?
The Nameless Soldiers