I woke up with the cool rush of night air. The breeze flowing against the mountains was like the breath of a gentle Froslass. It was enough to startle me from my unconsciousness. I stood up, and felt the scars on my body as they contracted in weird ways, feeling the emptiness in a few areas as they stretched in opposite directions. The sais were still in my hands. I crossed my arms over my chest in front of me in reverence. The dead must be avenged. It was my duty to make sure that my newly found enemies rotted in the earth the same way that my friends did now. I had worked all day yesterday to bury the bodies in individual graves. The strain had forced me to collapse from exhaustion when I was done. I had stayed knocked out through the whole day, and it was in the cool, apathetic arms of night that I found myself.
I looked over the path that went up the mountain. The path lay undisturbed as before. The horde can't have passed through that way. The one thing I knew in the world better than myself was the mountain. I was born here, I was raised here, and for a long time I had thought I would die here. But this charred shell of a town holds no more future for me. I had to track down the animals that tore apart my family and friends, even if it meant death in the process. I stumbled my first step down the mountain.
The sayings of the village elder, Jang, haunted me as I stumbled, fell, and crawled my way down the mountain.
The journey of a lifetime begins with a painful step
Hate thy enemy, and you will become one of them
The dead don't come back to life
The support of a friend is better than any walking stick you can find
Aphorisms with no promise. I had meditated on them daily for the past 10 years. It was intrinsic to my being. It was a part of the past that would haunt me for a long time now. I set out, turning them over in my head like one turns over a strange new rock they've found. The wave of remembering would bore the memory into my mind like a splinter than never quite comes out. I crossed off the first part of my mantra.
My journey had begun, and I was bent towards only one thing. Revenge.
The mind of any fighting pokemon is usually bent on a few simple ideas. Train to get better. Never forget your training. As a born and bred fighter, there was very little you learned naturally. Sure, you had the basic ability to kick and punch, but true skills like Fire Punch and Hi Jump Kick were only obtained through years of training. You always trained, and sometimes you trained in ways that aren't expected of you. Hitmonlee like myself were always proud of the strength in their legs. I trained my hands to use the sais with lethal results, just like I expected the same from my legs. They were weapons. Simple as that.
The next ideal. Discipline. You needed discipline to keep up in your training. You needed discipline to keep from going towards evil. Discipline was the one thing that kept you going. And right now, my discipline was fading. The dark woods came into view as I followed the wake of destruction. I had almost nothing left to me now. I had my sais in a haversack that I carried, and I had a few provisions in there. I had food for a week, and clean water in case it took me a long time to find more.
The adventure starts here.
In a dark stormy Gothic castle several leagues away, the horde returned. They calmly entered the old castle, the onyx gates welcoming them like the embrace of a doomed man. The flying types rocketed up to the keep, where the screams of death seemed almost constant. Only one pokemon remained as the terrestrial pokemon scattered to their barracks. The only one who remained was a Swalot, a massive one at that. The smell which oozed off the pokemon was rank and foul, like the poisonous bag had only ingested corpses since his early days. That wasn't too far from the truth. He was CorpseBreather, second in command to the High Vizier of H'Urdćm. It was the Vizier's army he commanded, and he only reported to the Vizier himself.
His recent attack on the village was little more than to show his commitment to the Grand Vizier. He looked up to the main hall, which was on a raised bed of black quartz. He approached the throne and made his form relax, making him lower his semisolid frame.
“I live to serve Master. Let his Eminence reign over these lands forever.”