Silence filled the empty home long after the intruders had gone. The window shutters flung open, the door caved in. The table and plates were shattered, the armchairs destroyed, blooming flowers of cotton from their ruptured fabric. From the door and past the living room, the floor was slick with fresh blood.
Every so often, this horrid vision would play out before Marvin.
Crying, someone he once loved was struck down and slammed. The children watched on in horror, frozen in place as their young eyes watch on. What else were children to do when their mother couldn't scream for them to run? Her mouth was held shut by a hand made from steel, her teary eyes trying to speak for her. Before their voice could be heard, the floor was already awash with blood. The terrified children stood paralyzed in place, not knowing what to do. Fate decided for them and sent a pair of blades to slit their throats. One and one, and then they stood no more.
Death is something that is always thought of as silent. Dead men tell no tales, dead men make no noise; they remain silent as the grave. There are even those who are said to pass peacefully. For Mycaelis and Vagus, death was never silent. They had both killed as they lived in a world where one must kill or be killed themselves. Never once could either sibling recall an occasion where death had been silent.
Death is the screams of agony as flesh is torn from broken bones, the howls of pain when entrails are split upon the ground. The cries for mercy, the shrieks of horror, the gurgling sound of someone drowning in their blood. Then come the sounds of those that behold death’s work. The screams of terror, the gasps of disbelief, the wailing of loved ones as they grieve for their loss.
As Mycaelis and Vagus sat silent in that hovel in the jungle, they could hear Death outside, and it was far from silent. The screams of those attacking monsters assailed their ears to no end. Mo
Marvin sighed and idly wandered up the stone steps to the cavern’s land entrance. He made it to the tunnel that led to the surface and grumbled in annoyance when his feet sank into the familiar feeling of mud and water. The storm was still raging and its downpour was flooding the tunnel. It never did have any proper drainage for all the water. Nearing the entrance, Marvin gazed up at the sky and noted that the downpour wouldn’t be ending any time soon. He clenched his injured arm and barred himself against the bite of the howling wind.
“Sssay,” came a voice that managed to hold itself above the howl of the storm. The head of an Arbok slid closely into view. It eyed Marvin with a pair of sinister yellow eyes and Marvin eyed it back not in the least startled by it. “Sspare me a refuge in your den, old Marvin? A cursed tree all but crushed mine.”
“Crushed yers?” scoffed Marvin. “Yer spake as though yer had wan ter begin with, Thrax.
Vagus was lost. Laconian? Commoner? Abnormal? He drifted in a part of the world where the eye could not see, wandering paths unmapped towards destinations that turned to ash the moment he touched them. Where new horizons dawned only to fall into an endless night where he stood alone. This was his world now. A world of grey where he found no light or darkness, where he could find only one word that could define the person he was: A disappointment. Not Laconian. Not a commoner. Not an Abnormal. A disappointment.
Vagus often realised that he was not much different to Mycaelis at all, they both bore an intense hatred for something. Mycaelis hated weakness as it was taught to him by his father, but Vagus hated something far more spiteful than weakness, he hated hope. He hated it when it compelled him onward with false grandeurs and promises, deluding him with scenarios of what could be, and destroying him time and time again when it cast him into the bottomless pit that was reality. In a wa
The air was still upon entering the glade. The forest brush and trees gave way to reveal a wall of glowing blue eyes that gazed at the three entering strangers. The Abnormals, Pokémon of all kinds, gazed at Marvin when he entered with Mycaelis and Vagus in tow. He had been here more than a dozen times, but the greeting he received had always been cold. The native inhabitants of Oat; reduced from once continent sprawling clans to now small isolated tribes that cowered in the darkest recesses of their ancient land.
Marvin was never one to ask for a warm welcome from them. They had every right to treat him with suspicion regardless of how many of them he was able to feed with his occasional tribute of berries. With Abnormals, friends amongst outsiders quickly became impotent when they were faced with the overwhelming pressures of a murderous lynch mob.
It wasn’t long until the Abnormals dispersed and went about their own business, content with the fact that the outsider was som
‘They were attacked,’ whispered Vagus, looking over his shoulder at Mycaelis.
The Charmander snorted. ‘It’s Prismatic Jungle, Vagus. Everyone gets attacked.’
Frustration began to creep into Vagus’ nerves. He had long grown used to Mycaelis ignorance. He had lived with it for so long it seemed as though Mycaelis was simply born ignorant. But now Vagus was reaching the end of his tether.
‘You don’t understand,’ Vagus held back the urge to yell, knowing it would alert his parents. ‘There is something out there hunting them. Hunting us.’
Mycaelis grinned. ‘Let ‘em come. Been a while since I last saw mum and dad spill some guts.’
‘They barely escaped with their lives. Didn’t you see how exhausted they were?’
‘Nope,’ he turned away. ‘Now, how ‘bout you shut yer gob and look this way. Like you’re supposed to be doin’’
Vagus sighed, conceding once agai
Left, right, right, left, left right. The amount of movement involved in this exercised perplexed Vagus to no end. His father was a colossal brute, the sort of fighter who would have powered his way through a foe’s meagre defences to literally tear them limb from limb. But the way in which Mycaelis had been trained to move was something else entirely.
The Charmander moved with such grace, precision and speed that he was almost an orange blur before Vagus’ eyes. Vagus’ legs simply couldn’t move him fast enough. The only purpose they seemed to serve was keeping his body upright while Mycaelis pummelled him in an endless stream of bone shaking strikes.
Vagus’ legs finally gave way, allowing Mycaelis to deliver a swift kick to the bottom of his jaw and flipping him falling onto his back. Vagus tasted a hint of copper in his mouth and grunted. They had been at this for many hours now.
‘See.’ Mycaelis grinned, standing over him. ‘You are
There was a certain joy for Vagus when he was left home alone. Although being strictly forbidden from moving any further than the meagre boundaries set around the small house, Vagus was able to feel a sense of freedom. The borders of his small world may have not stretched far and wide, but they seemed to stretch a lot further whenever his parents were absent. His shoulders felt lighter now the burden of his father’s disapproving gaze had left him, and his arms seemed more mobile without his mother’s chains of iron discipline. For this short while, he was free, or at least as free as he would ever hope to be.
Vagus turned to his brother, Mycaelis, who sat perched on a nearby rock. The young Charmander was making a freakishly fast recovery since his awakening some hours ago. His more severe cuts had been covered and bruises lathered with ointment. Mycaelis had torn most, if not all, of the makeshift bandaging from his body; his pride simply didn’t allow it to be present
There was always something new to be learnt here in this makeshift hovel that lay deep within this forsaken jungle. Many would say that life for Vagus the Totodile was not good enough for him, but it was his father who would say that it was Vagus who was not good enough for life. His father; the one he who ruled as king of Vagus’ small world had declared him useless and thus he conceded that he was indeed so.
Life had no room for weakness and weakness was all that Vagus had to offer. Vagus had seen firsthand what happened to those who were weak, the creatures of this jungle that were foolish enough to challenge his father. A Salamence, despite boasting the attributes of a freak of nature, lay torn to pieces in a nearby clearing. A pair of Rhydon, who attempted to intrude upon his father, lay with their rock like chests shattered and insides strewn on the ground. In the very hut which he sat, the skulls of an Aggron, a Haxorus, a Dragonite and several Tyranitar adorned the w