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Creative Writing Share your fan fiction, stories, poems, essays, editorials, song lyrics, or any other related written work. All written must be your creation. Start a new thread, and keep replying to that thread as you add on more chapters. Anyone can join in at anytime.


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  #1  
Old 05-18-2010, 10:16 PM
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Default Don't Hold Me Up [PG]

Don't Hold Me Up
The Revenge of the Dead

As of now, this is the only place I have posted this fanfic, so if it is found anywhere else, please let me know.

Chapter Guide:
Preface: The End of War
Chapter 1: Bring Me Back to Life
---

Please feel free to comment and rate, this is my first fanfic ever, so I'm curious to hear all constructive criticism

Last edited by Grsspkmnmaster; 05-20-2010 at 09:09 PM.
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  #2  
Old 05-18-2010, 10:55 PM
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Default Preface: The End of War

The dusky haze was lifting. Grey ash was everywhere. It looked like the damage was from a wildfire, but only the truth of the damage would be known by those familiar with the ways of guerilla warfare. The village is now nothing more than a pile of splintered bamboo and burnt leaves. Bodies of various pokémon remain charred and cut into rags. The burnt ash in the sky falls like snow. The snow isn't a sign of joy, however. It is the prophetic sign of the death which has only recently ravaged the small village on the side of the mountain.

A brown mass tries to lift up himself. Falling down with a slight crash, the splintered wood throws up a cloud of dust, causing a coughing fit in the fighting type pokémon. Stretching his legs, the Hitmonlee raised himself, holding the heavily damaged sais against his sides. The twin silver daggers fell to the ground, and the pokémon bent over in the pain. Scars from several different attacks were all over his body, ranging from electrical burns to fire burns to direct slashes. Weakness was overcoming him as he flexed his strong legs. He flipped over onto his back, staring bleakly into the faint sunlight as the gray particles settled. He could remember the fight all too clearly.

---

Like a horde of mad beasts, the Renegades flew up the side of the mountain with amazing speed. There were only two orders. Take no prisoners. Take all the possessions of the rugged mountain folk. There was little to take, but the bloodlust of the raging pokémon was more than enough to satisfy the warriors. Machoke carrying huge battle axes, Fearow and Noctowl alike sporting brass talons, Arcanine and Charizard screeching as flaming tongues flicked out to the greenery. The battle was on.

The village bell rang with urgency. The few pokémon who were trained to fight laid down their farming tools and picked up their weapons. There weren’t many of them, never enough to stop a horde of at least 50. Not with only 5 armed pokémon. They all braced themselves as the horde screaming death approached them. They weren’t here to defeat all the barbarians. Just to stall them so the majority of the townsfolk could get away. The lifted up various weapons, and crashed into the fight, taking down several pokémon.

I will never forget their bravery. Ferro the Aggron, welding his kenabo. With his weapon he could bash in the skulls of almost any pokémon who turned to face the steel pokémon armed with the studded war club. Jang, the Alakazam, who carried little more than a simple whip chain, fighting primarily with his psychic powers. Koloss, the Usaring, armed with the ancient cestus that his father had used before him, and his father’s father. The spiked boxing gloves were easily enough to take down almost anyone who was foolish enough to try and fight the boxing bear. Zar, the Skarmory was with us two, screeching out war cries in his broken speech. The metal shrike had little to fear. I had more weapons, but I can only remember taking my sais, the twin forked blades gleaming in the sun. It had been 12 long years of practice with them, hoping only to use them at times like this. Never had there been more bravery than had been shown today.

Unfortunately, Jang had fallen first. A barrage of Pin Missles brought him down as the rest took cover. There was a haggard laugh from the Cacturn who had taken the wise pokémon down. The rest of us took out as many as I could, but I don’t remember enough to say what occurred. The surge was so great, it was like fighting the ocean. We all got separated so fast, I can only remember the chaos as I lashed out with every part of my body. Then, someone strong had smashed my skull, and I fell into a blackened daze.


I had no name. I couldn’t remember much, just that this was home, and it was now gone. I looked down the mountain path where the blood of the villagers ran down to the forest. I fell to my knees. Our defense had been in vain.

No.

Not in vain.

I could always track them down. But I didn’t even know who had attacked me; much less I didn’t know who I was. I struggled to walk, and collapsed. I was a dead pokémon.

So why not at lest gain revenge as a ghost?
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  #3  
Old 05-19-2010, 09:25 AM
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Default Re: Don't Hold Me Up [PG]

Interesting on how you made the Pokemon's moves be the weapons of war! Good job!
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Old 05-20-2010, 09:08 PM
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Default Bring Me Back to Life

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.”
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