thebard490

[thebard490]

Vs. Nemona

[Video Id: Nemona’s Rotom phone beeps at her. “Bunea, estas lista para ir.” She mutters, before sending it out to the side, revealing her facing down Samara somewhere in the relatively isolated northern part of Paldea. The mountain can be seen in the background. “Alright Samara, ready to go again?”

“Seventh time’s the charm I suppose.” Samara replied, before adjusting the limiter band on her bracelet, deactivating it. Nemona deactivated her own limiter, located in her glove, as the two women face one another down. “This time, I’m taking you down kid. I’ve been caught up sparring with you too long.”

“Ah, you’ve been having fun, nice to have someone who you can go all out against!” Nemona laughed in return.

“Fair enough, but I do need to get around to taking down Geeta. Sam’s nearly made it there in the time I’ve been trying to take you down.”

“True, maybe I’ll have to go see how he’s developed after this. Providing, of course, you beat me.”

“When. Not if.” Samara shot back with a grin. “Now let’s do this, enough talk, have at you!”

The two trainers sent out their leads. From Nemona’s side arose a towering Orthoworm, unnaturally large even for a fairly decently sized species already. It dwarfed the small Noivern facing it down, as the two trainers faced off. “Oh, changing up your lead then are we?” Nemona asked curiously.

“I’ve changed a lot of things up. Mordred, show her what we can do. Focus Bomb!”

My pleasure. Mordred’s voice replied, before the telepathic noivern closed on the titanic pokemon opposite him. Evading a strike from the Orthoworm’s firsts, he closed in, talon to its armored throat. Release. There was a flash of light and a roar of sound, and the Orthoworm toppled over, falling unconscious as it hit the soil. Mordred landed back on his heels, smoking and clearly damaged from his powerful pseudomove. Learned that one from a particularly annoying Zoroark. Unfortunately for him, I am the better user for it.

“Well then, you’ve certainly stepped things up since last time. What was that, fighting type explosion or something?”

Modified version of Focus Blast. It amplifies the damage, and removes the problem of poor accuracy. The problem with it is merely that it hits both. And as a flying-type, I resist its effects. Fortunate, given its firepower is enough to even drop your former titan!

“True, true, but you won’t get to use it twice. Pawmott!” Nemona retorted, before sending out her electric type. “Revival Blessing!”

“Oh no you don’t, not this time. Taunt!” Samara countered, and the attempt to revive was frustrated.

“You really have changed things up specifically to beat me. I’m flattered. Double shock!” Nemona retorted, and her Pawmot fired off twin bolts of electricity towards the wounded Noivern. Mordred simply smirked, and vanished back into his pokeball. What replaced him was the looming form of Lancelot, the Garchomp shrugging off the electricity like a dog shaking off water.

“Dragon Blitz!” Samara ordered, and Lancelot complied. Focusing his energy, the Garchomp paused for a moment, then blurred forwards, slashing wildly with its arms. Nemona reacted quickly, pulling her Pawmott back and replacing it with her Great Tusk. The towering primal elephant clashed, tusk to axe, against the raging Garchomp, fighting type energy blossoming. The two went blow for blow, each attack and counter tearing up the land around them, Close Combat against Dragon Blitz. At last, both landed a decisive blow, separating the two pokemon as each one knocked the other away. Lancelot crashed into one of the surrounding spires, breaking off its pinnacle. Meanwhile, Great Tusk slammed into the base of one, and it toppled behind it. Lancelot caught himself in the air, and landed on the broken pillar, looking down at his ancient opponent. The great elephant simply looked up, and snorted.

Lancelot brought his axes down on the pillar, and shattered it beneath him. The force  of the blow stirred up wind and soil, unleashing the howling, shredding stone of a localized sandstorm. Both trainers covered their faces to keep off the sand, as the Garchomp vanished into the wind. Nemona laughed. “Well if that’s how it’s going to be, we’ll just attack everywhere at once! Rolling Tantrum!” She ordered. The Great Tusk dug itself into the ground slightly, then began to spin at high speeds. It tore up the ground as it did so, sending out spiraling waves of earth. The attack was catastrophic, and wild pokemon fled or were knocked out by the roiling waves of stone, as the Great Tusk only accelerated, twisting the earth around it as it whirled like a devastating top through the battlefield. Even shrouded by the sandstorm, there was no way for Lancelot to avoid the attack, as it threw the ground from under him, and then crushed the Garchomp under the whirling bulk of the Great Tusk.

The dizzied elephant came to a halt, shaking unsteadily. Then it drew a berry from its side with its trunk and bit down. The juices of the berry focused the paradox pokemon, and it set itself as the sandstorm continued to howl about it. Nemona nodded from across the sandstorm. “It was a good play! Sand Veil to keep him in the fight, and it would break my Meowscarada’s focus sash! Plus I can’t exactly clear this with rapid spin! Very cleverly done!” She yelled over the howling winds. “Shame it didn’t quite work out!”

“I have not yet even begun to fight Nemona! Don’t count us out yet just because you evened the score!” Samara replied with a laugh, before sending out Percival. The Tyrantrum roared, overshadowing the sound of the hurricane, as it faced down the great mastodon opposite it.

“Let’s clear this quickly. Close Combat!” Nemona ordered, and the Great Tusk charged, ready to impale the Tyrantrum on its titular teeth. But then, something curious occurred, and the Great Tusk when through Percival, rather than making contact. Through the howling sand, it was hard to see, but as Percival stepped clear, his body gleamed with purple energy. Tera Ghost.

“I agree. Let’s end this quickly. Ice Fang!” Samara ordered, and Percival bit down hard on the Great Tusk’s back leg. Off balance from its all out attack, the elephant slipped, and then flew, as Percival heaved the former titan over his head and slammed it to the ground. The sheer weight and bulk of the beast, its greatest assets, turned into weapons as the impact blew the breath from the elephant’s lungs, leaving it unable to rise. Then the Tyrantrum went for the throat, biting down with icy fangs and shaking until the paradox pokemon fell unconscious. Standing over his conquered foe, Percival roared with a cry that split the heavens. He declared to the world that, regardless of the weakness which had come upon him from being reborn as a fossil pokemon, he remained the strongest creature of his era.

“Well, that certainly is something. Meowscarada, sorry about this but you’re on!” Nemona apologized, before sending out the feline pokemon.

“Oh no you don’t. Crush him now! Fire Fang!” Samara ordered. Eagerly, Percvial complied. Out of the swirling mists the Tyrantrum came, a hulking brute, semi-ethereal, with a mouth filled with hellfire. He seemed nothing short of a devil dinosaur, but against him and the winds, Meowscarada stood proud and took a stance.

“Night trick.” Nemona ordered, and as the jaws closed, Meowscarada vanished. Then, with a crash of breaking crystal, he re-appeared behind Percival. The crystals surrounding the Tyrantrum vanished, and he fell to the ground with a crash.

Samara drew her lips back in something of a snarl, but nodded in respect. “A critical hit. It’s always going to be a critical hit, isn’t it?”

“Night slash has a boosted critical hit rate. Apply the same techniques used for Flower Trick to it, and turning it into a guaranteed critical hit is simple enough, so long as the opponent is distracted by attacking, or any sort of negative effect, like this sandstorm for example.”

“Tch. Such a powerful pokemon, and you hand them out as starters.” Samara remarked with a chuckle. “Certainly a step up from my Meowth, or even the Bulbasaur Oak gives out.” She palmed her next ball, then sent forth Bedivere, her flygon, low. Immediately, he vanished beneath the soil, which began to rumble menacingly.

“Meirda.” Nemona swore, before something like the bones of a dead god tore their way out of the earth, towering spires of paldean bedrock ripping through the air. But in Paldea, these were no mere stones, as crystalline spires rent their way out of the ground, False Precipice given a beautiful and terrible form by the ancient gift of Terapagos. Nemona’s starter fell, green fur reflected a thousand times by the shining crystalline surface. The energy of the attack was different, the pure infinity energy scattered and reflected as an endless stellar prism. There was no defense against it.

“Huh. That’s new.” Samara considered, turning her head at the strange sight, before narrowing her eyes. Nemona had sent out her next pokemon already. Swinging from crystal spire to crystal spire, Annihilape rapidly closed on Bedivere. “Blow him away Bedi.” Samara ordered, and the Flygon complied. With a flick of his tail, the towering stellar spires shattered, scattered into diamond dust like a fireworks display. The vision was dazzling, so much so that when the raging primate hurled itself, wounded and bloodied, out of the mist, it blindsided the Flygon. A blow powerful enough to crack one of Bedivere’s natural goggles sent the flygon spiraling through the air, hitting a nearby boulder and flipping over it, before he lay still. The impact seemed to flow back through the Annihilape, mending its wounds.

“Ah, and here’s the other troublemaker. Gawain. Let’s do this.” Samara ordered, before sending out her Goodra. The annihilape closed, sheer aggression driving it onwards, as Gawain charged his slime with powerful energies. It hissed, then sprang outwards in a viscous shield, catching the undead ape’s blow, then bursting back in a blast of steam. Annihilape fell back, sprawling and badly burned. Gawain raised his hands above his head, gathering a massive meteor of draconic energy. Samara cut her hand across the air with a single word. “Begone.” And so it was done. A flare of potent draconic energies blew away the lingering dust and forged a new arena from a crater, ringed with the light of uprooted crystal shards.

But in that crater, opposite the Goodra, a mechanical marvel, or monstrosity, depending on your point of view, stood unharmed. The Iron Valiant simply lowered its visor, red eyes dancing over Gawain’s body, looking for weak points. “Quick switch.” Samara complimented, as she and her dragon faced the enemy down carefully. Nemona simply responded with a grin. The two trainers said nothing, each one intensely focused on the battle ahead.

Then Nemona reacted, hurling her Tera Orb forwards. Samara immediately ordered another Scalding Shield, but it was predicted. As the Iron Valiant stood wreathed in fey crystals, it rerouted additional power to its weapons, an as-yet unwritten echo of the ritualized sword dance used by modern pokemon. Its brilliant blade gleamed as it watched the shield of the opposing Goodra carefully, and in an instant, it struck. A single strike through a faltering side of the shield inflicted a worrying wound. Gawain flinched, and his shield faltered. An instant slash cut the shield away, followed by its immediate reversal. Gawain staggered, twin lines across his chest and throat, before a blurring flurry of thrusts sent him crashing to the ground.

“Yeah. And there’s the other, other troublemaker. Never a free moment against you, I suppose.” Samara muttered, before she sent Mordred back out. The Noivern watched his artificial enemy carefully. “But we can still beat you. Boomburst.” Mordred complied, as a clear gem, easily mistaken for glass gleamed around his throat. Then, the pure crystalized infinity energy of a Normal Gem filled with light, focusing as Mordred drew in a breath, and unleashed a roar that forced both trainers to cover their ears. Off the coast of Paldea, a pod of Wailmer paused in their songs for a moment, then turned away from the coast in dread. The overwhelming noise hit Iron Valiant like a wall, throwing it off its feet and into the crystalline ring of the improvised arena. Its eyes spasmed wildly, somehow registering that the clouds were moving away from the sound, an attack powerful enough to split the heavens and change the weather. Then one by one, internal systems began registering failure after failure, gyroscopes shaking themselves apart, the near-vacuum conditions required to cool its internal computers popping, heat sinks colliding with one another and spreading heat far too quickly, reserves of coolant leaking from microscopic fractures across its entire body, RAM access failing as bits flipped randomly, catastrophic failure imminent. Emergency shutdown initiated.

The robotic pokemon fell limply to the ground.

“Mierda.” Nemona swore again as she shook the ringing from her ears. “I see why you need the limiter.”

“Yeah. Takes a lot out of him to do that, but when we go all out, well.”

We are the sword of Arceus, which uphold His dream. Let the righteous rejoice, and the wicked despair. Mordred replied, and then came under a serious coughing fit. Agh, hate using Gems. Always gives me heartburn.

Nemona took the opportunity to send her Pawmott back out, and as it began performing the signs to enact the Revival Blessing, Mordred turned, but still recovering from his all out attack, he was too slow, and the taunt fell after one of Nemona’s pokeballs began to gleam. Mordred unleashed an air slash immediately thereafter, but Pawmott vanished, and the winds struck harmlessly against the iron shell of the Orothoworm titan. Worse still, it immediately bit down on a sitrus berry, and surged in strength once again. Mordred beat wings after it swiftly, trying to close for it to launch another Focus Bomb, but it hid itself under the earth, and its tail broke off, giving cover for Annihilape to return. Mordred slipped away from a powerful rage fist, and beat his wings over the creature. Annihilape was covered by a substitute, unreachable by most of his attacks, and immune to Boomburst. Though it was burned, it chewed on Leftovers to maintain its health, and in a battle of attrition could still wear down Samara’s remaining pokemon.

“Three two, and you’ve only got one more left in you don’t you Mordred.” Nemona called out from the area. “It’s been the best fight yet.”

“Nemona. We have not yet even begun to fight. Mordred, sorry to ask this of you.”

It’s no bother. Let me know how Arthur cleared the rest of this. Mordred said, as energy began to gather around him again. It looked like Boomburst, but now something was different. The Noivern began using the Normal Gem as a prism, suffusing it with his own dragon-type energy, and filtering all other types but that out, changing the attack’s type. Then he spoke, twisting his flexible larynx into ancient words of power. “Thus spoke Arceus and answered Father Dragon…” Then his voice took on a roar, as he spoke words of power, inescapable and beating into the heart and the very soul of those around him. “WHAT IS GOOD FOR A MAN? THAT HE SHOULD SEEK JUSTICE, LOVE MERCY, AND WALK HUMBLY WITH HIS GOD. THAT HE SHOULD KEEP THE WORD OF GOD, MEDITATING UPON IT DAY AND NIGHT. FOR THIS DAY, YOU ARE MY SWORD, AND I HAVE GIVEN MY ENEMIES INTO YOUR HAND. THEREFORE, INSCRIBE MY WORDS UPON YOUR HEART, SO THAT YOU WILL HAVE WISDOM AND DISCERNMENT, DOING GOOD AND HATING EVIL.” Words of ancient scripture howled around him, their power physically manifest and tearing into the Annihilape, who shook with such terror, energy raging across his body, that he fell faint, and knew no more.

Then, overcome from the backlash of his pseudomove, Mordred fell from the heavens, and lay still upon the soil.

“Well then, guess we better wrap this up.” Samara replied, her pale hair tinged with dark blue, static crackling through it, and a wild grin across her face. Mordred’s words of power might have driven his enemies to their knees, but to his allies, they were surging victory. “Arthur, let’s finish this!” She roared in victory, the roar answered by three from the triune throats of her Hydreigon.

“We’re not done yet, all you’ve done is really get me fired up!” Nemona retorted, sending out her Pawmott as close as she could to the Hydreigon. The pokemon rushed forwards, fists raised as it leapt at the dark dragon. Arthur was charging an attack with her main maw, then raised her left head and opened it, releasing something like a miniature draco meteor point blank. A flash of draconic power sent the Pawmott sprawling back, but it landed on its feet as Arthur sent another micro-meteor hurling at it. Gamely, the small pokemon stood its ground and caught the micrometeor between its hands, trying to contain its energy through sheer force of will. Then Arthur opened her third head, and sent out the third miniature blast. The two spheres impacted one another, and immediately the naturally self-repulsive dragon energy erupted. It was like a bomb had gone off in the Pawmott’s hands, and it had no chance to brace itself, being blown straight through the lip of the crater a smoking wreck. Nemona barely had time to deploy her exhausted Orthoworm before Arthur struck again, scorching flames unleashed from every maw to hammer the tired titan back into unconsciousness, heat still intense enough to give the dusty crater a glassy sheen.

“Seventh tries the charm.” Samara said triumphantly, before falling back onto her seat with a sigh of relief.

Nemona looked at the destruction around her, at her unconscious pokemon, and her face split into an incredibly excited grin. “THAT WAS AWESOME!” She declared, fist pumping the air. “Let’s go again!”

Samara’s face was indescribably horrified, then she sank back with a deflated sigh. “I am way too old for this shit.”

[thebard490]

Hydreigon: A Brief History

So, we've been on the internet for a while and keep running into all this commentary about Hydreigon. We're naturally, as one of the strongest Pokemon outside of legendaries, a popular discussion point for competitive trainers. There's just a lot of bullshit flying around as well.

Now, a lot of this does have to do with the ferocious reputation we've acquired. Infamously brutal, and also infamously hard to raise due to our difficulties in our unevolved forms. Now then, we've decided to do some research on our species, and the results are interesting. 

Given humans blame us for being something they created. 

You've probably heard of regional variants, how pokemon have changed over the years and adapted to specific regions, and that there are ancient Hisuian variants as well being brought back. What you might not have heard of is that Hydreigon also have a variant, and it's a much older form. 

This is the Swabian Hydriegon. They come from Swabia, an extremely mountainous and famously neutral region in the center of Europa. It's also the home region to the original form of hydriegon. They're weaker in terms of base stats to the one you're familiar with, and very rare, about on par with Lapras. 

This is a Swabian Deino. If you look, you'll notice something interesting, it still has its eyes. While the Swabian form of our species are weaker (BST of around 525), their pre-evolved forms are stronger and haven't lost use of their eyes. The additional heads are also generally much more cooperative in later stages. They're less powerful, but still strong enough to throw their weight around and secure the high peaks of their mountain homes and navigate them well as Dragon/Flying types, rather than Dragon/Dark.

Now then, how exactly do we get from A to B, and why is B found all over the world while the original form of our species is localized to one small area and rare even there? Well the answer is humans, and the human constant: War.

The Europan regions around Swabia were of course aware of our ancestors, and while they weren't as powerful or brutal as the modern variant, they were still feared, in part due to Intimidate being our ability instead of Levitate. So, as pokeball technology began to spread out of the east during the later middle ages, the great houses of Europa, particularly in the areas that would become the Austra, Bavarea, Itanian, and Rhein regions, began to capture and breed powerful pokemon for the purposes of using them as weapons in their endless wars.

The breeding programs spread further, however they were ultimately perfected in the area which today is known as the Dansig region. At the time, it was controlled by the descendants of an order of crusading warriors, who sought to transform the Hydreigon into their ultimate weapon. They succeeded, producing the modern Hydreigon and using it to conquer their enemies. However, such programs had consequences. As a result of inbreeding, the earlier forms of the line lost their ability to see, and became increasing aggressive both with themselves and one another. This was ultimately accepted, as since Hydreigon were weapons of the state, disabilities in earlier forms were bypassed by mass feeding of XP candies. If anything, the increased aggression made them better weapons. The results of these actions caused Hydreigon to lose their Flying type, though remnants of it can be seen in the Levitate ability and vestigal wings. In its place, the human's abuse and inbreeding transformed the species into the dark type.

This was hardly unique to the Germanic regions. For generations the Galarians had been known for breeding Corviknight, and the presence of such a powerful pokemon that could also be used by anyone throughout Galar is one of many explanations given for why Galar developed its constitutional monarchy sooner than other regions. The Kalosians famously cultivated the Aegislash line and used it to establish the absolutist power of their kings, until those same Aegislash were used to behead the nobility during the Kalosian Revolution. During the warring Regions period, Johto bred Tyranitar to such an extent that neighboring Sinnoh formed a permanent alliance with its Lucario population, and the damage inflicted on Kanto by its neighbors weaponized pokemon helped contribute to that region having such strong restrictions on importing anything beyond its 150 recognized native species. However, it was the particular character of the creators of the Hydreigon, and their carelessness, that resulted in the Hydreigon becoming so particularly infamous.

The power of their new weapons enabled the great houses of that region to conquer their neighbors, uniting all the germanic regions into a single empire, the 2nd Reich, through iron, blood, and dragonfire. There was some spread of the Hydriegon in this time, as the species was introduced to Galar and Paldea by intermarriage between the royal families, who brought their prized war pokemon with them. They were also introduced into other regions by the work of the Swabians and other Germanic humans as mercenaries, famously being used to great effect by the Hessian mercenaries during the Unovan war of Independence. Of course, many escaped, and being both an invsasive species and now a pseudolegendary bred for aggression at all costs, they heavily disrupted local ecosystems. This only further reinforced the reputation the species had as true monsters.

Of course this reputation would be permanently solidified by the two great wars. As the newly forged Germanic Empire waged war against Kalos and Galar, Hydreigon were deployed to the front lines as shock troops, infamously destroying much of Wyndon during the blitz. The 3rd Reich also famously favored the species as an example of the proof of Germanic superiority over other races, and proof that their eugenics programs would ultimately produce their superior human, their "Ubermensch". The 3rd Reich also pushed the species even further, attempting to breed it into a state where it could compete with actual legendaries, as their evil had grown so great that both Reshiram and Zekrom joined alongside Unova and the Tapus of Alola following the Pearl Conference Massacre.

This ultimately failed, though many of the scientists responsible for this would receive pardons for their crimes as part of Operation Paperclip, and their research laid the groundwork for what would become the Type:Null project. Yes, the founder of the Aether Foundation used to be a nazi, small wonder they wound up like they did. This same information would also be stolen by Team Rocket, and used to create Mewtwo. These artificial pokemon simply represent the next step in humanity's long running project to create living weapons.

So, when you consider the discussion of Hydreigon, that we are monsters, that we are brutal, that we are, as some would even dare to say, too dangerous to be allowed to live, remember that you created us. You took a species that, while powerful predators, was ultimately a stable population, and selectively bred it until our children were born blind, and we possess such extreme aggression that we even turn it against our own bodies. You created us. You demanded that we become monsters, and now, ignorant of that history, some of you dare to imply that we must be eradicated because you cannot control what you created.

What then is to be done? Well, the Hydreigon are here to stay. If you want our opinion, the best way to help begin reversing some of the damage would be to undertake a program for the Swabian Hydreigon similar to the one used to restore Lapras populations in recent years. Intermixing between the two species may help remedy generations of genetic damage. Furthermore, the conversation around Hydreigon should change, addressing the historic injustices inflicted on our people rather than perpetuating negative stereotypes that were your own damned fault in the first place. Let us be a lesson in why humans should not tamper with Arceus's creation, and the consequences of a worldview that only values strength, and pokemon as a means to that strength. Such attitudes have become common in these days as trainers pursue every edge they can in the competitive scene. Remember what they lead to. Lest both our species' offspring pay the price.

[thebard490]

Sam vs. Sam

The two Sams faced one another down across the small field, one still fiddling with the device on her wrist. “Can’t say I necessarily like this thing.” Samara admitted, before engaging it with a slight click. A dull hum filled the air. “But it seems to be working. Limiter Engage. Give me a second to test that it’s working.”

Samara sent out Mordred, and the noivern bristled. “Yep, it’s working.” He confirmed. “Infinity energy output stifled. I haven’t felt this weak in years.”

“Sorry Mordred, just got to have it so-“

“We don’t break Paldea’s little “gym” fields. I know I know.” Mordred replied. “Just turn that off when we’re not battling. It makes me feel constipated.”

This earned a slight snort from the other Sam, before they offered a thumbs up. “All good to go Samara?” They asked from across the field.

“Always.” Samara said, turning as the fall winds whipped up her long coat and mane of white hair. A predatory grin spread across her face, amber eyes igniting with adrenaline. She recalled Mordred, and locked her pokeball at her side. “Ready to go?”

“Gulp. Probably not but let’s do this anyways.”

“That’s the spirit. Bedivere I choose you!”

“Amber, let’s go!”

The two Sams sent out their pokemon, a gardevoir gracefully entering the field, opposite a flygon zipping out of its ball, already a blur of confusing motion. The two stared one another down, unmoving tranquility against calculated chaos.

“Alright, go with something reliable. Moonblast!” Sam called out.

“Predictable. Bedivere, advancing guard.” Samara ordered in turn.

The Gardevoir looked towards the shadow of the moon on the blue sky, and gathered an orb of potent arcane energies, before hurling it towards the rapidly advancing Flygon. There was a flash of contrasting power, and Bedivere soared through, one of his wings held before him like a shield, wreathed in the cold-iron power of steel energy. The Flygon hit the Gardevoir like a brick to the belly, striking low and sending her flying back, grounded steel energies draining her as the blow stole the breath from her lungs.

“This strong? Even with a limiter?” She pondered, before she bit down hard on a bebi berry, a surge of energy countering the draining effect of the steel, before landing on her feet, palm raised with another moonblast. “Not enough!”

“Too close to dodge or block. Let him have it!” Sam ordered.

“Underestimate us at your peril. Bedivere, Steel wing.” Samara replied, grin unfading.

Amber’s moonblast went wide, stinging steel still a blossoming burn on her wrist. Then Bedivere hit her again at the legs, sweeping them out from under her with his tail. “What? I outsped him?” Her thoughts resounded telepathically, before Bedivere’s steel wing hit her throat like an axe, slamming her into the ground and out of the fight.

“You never did.” Samara explained. “Advancing guard is negative priority in exchange for the increased defense. I knew it wouldn’t OHKO, so I used it to resist your moonblast and close in enough to blitz you, while at the same time luring you into a false sense of security so you didn’t switch out or protect, since you thought you could outspeed Bedivere and finish him. A good tactic, but one anticipated by my strategy.”

“That makes sense. Nice job. Alright, Mimi you’re up!” Sam replied, sending out their mimikyu instead.

“Watch your pokeball placement, you’re already in Bedivere’s 1-second range. Bed, demonstrate with another steel wing!” Samara cautioned, as the Mimikyu appeared relatively close to the Flygon. That distance vanished in an instant, as a steel wing hit the disguised ghost in the side of the head. Curiously, the attack didn’t move the curious pokemon by an inch, only breaking the disguise.

“No, you’re in mine.” Sam replied, a grin spreading. “Drain punch!”

The mimikyu moved with surprising speed, landing a powerful uppercut that knocked Bedivere out of the air and left him unconscious on the floor. Samara recalled him, pondering carefully. “That disguise really is quite something.” she admitted. “And the speed, it reminds me of the quickdraw Clay’s Exadrill uses. Certainly, a dangerous opponent. But one with plenty of weaknesses.”

She sent out her Goodra, Gawain, as close to her edge of the battlefield as possible. “Gawain, soak them through with Scald.”

“Well she’s seen your speed, show it off again!” Sam ordered. “Close in and heal off the scald with a drain punch!”

A powerful burst of boiling water impacted the mimikyu, but it pressed through with frightening quickness to land a body blow against towering goo dragon, pushing him back half a step. The two made a slightly comical pair, like an elephant had just been punched by a mouse.

“Don’t let them get away, keep the pressure on with another one!” Sam ordered.

“We don’t need to run, this round is ours. Ice beam.” Samara replied calmly. Gawain looked down at the Mimikyu jumping at his face, and unleashed a blue beam of pure cold. The mimikyu stiffened, and then bounced harmlessly off of the goo dragon. It wiggled slightly, the ghost within trying to move, but now trapped by its first waterlogged, and now frozen solid cotton cover.

“We’re not done yet. I know this is going to sound weird, but Mimi, use drain punch on your own costume! You can break out!”

“Too late. You’ve already taken enough damage. Finish this with another ice beam.” Samara ordered, and Gawain complied, another blast of cold leaving the frozen mimikyu utterly immobile. “I’m surprised you didn’t go for a play rough. That would have been some trouble.” She noted to the other Sam.

“I, err… don’t have that registered on Mimi right now. I wanted to have Shadow claw instead.”

“Interesting.” Samara replied. “We can discuss moveset theory later though. For now, we have a battle.”

“Right, let’s go May!” Sam nodded, sending out his Lopunny, this time aiming to place her as close to Gawain as possible. Samara nodded approvingly. “Gawain, scald shield.”

“Sunny Day!” Sam ordered, and Samara blinked in surprise. She paused for a moment, thinking through possible reasons why he could have gone for that instead of attacking. Had he predicted the Scald Shield? She looked towards Gawain, who dropped the sphere of boiling water protecting him, as the sun beat down on them both. She couldn’t use that move twice in a row, so now he was vulnerable. Furthermore, Scald was weaker, meaning she couldn’t rely on it to burn and weaken the physical attacker.

“Good job faking me out with that.” Samara acknowledged. “You’ve put me a bit on the back foot, but not that far. Sludge bomb!”

“Play rough!” Sam ordered. “Just like we planned!”

Samara’s eyes narrowed. He did have the sense to bring it after all. Her face tightened, shifting through contingencies, as May lunged- and hit the ground instead, pummeling it and sending shards of stone everywhere. Somewhat confused, Gawain obliged his immobile target and hit them with a concentrated ball of noxious poison. The attack sent the lopunny back several steps, but they recovered and took a fighting stance.

“What in the world are you up to?” Samara pondered aloud, and ordered another sludge bomb.

“You’ll see! Play rough!” Sam replied, and May closed the distance in a blink, a blur of flying fists and legs sending Gawain to the ground, but only moments later, the Lopunny collapsed, her blood running hot from battle, and causing the poison to spread swiftly, overwhelming the smaller pokemon.

“Alright. This wasn’t the best, but conditions are set. Beryl, time to execute!”

“Percival! Let’s do this!”

A tinkaton and Tyrantrum hit the ground, facing one another down across the field, and both flinching as the shrapnel from before dug into them. Samara looked across the field eyes narrowing. A choice scarf? No, it must be a focus sash. You’d never put a choice scarf on a tinkaton, and thanks to these rocks, it’s useless. I’ll have to have Mordred clear them with Windstorm. But first- “Percival! Fire Fang!”

“Now’s the time Beryl! Super Ice Smash!”

“The hell?” Samara asked, as the Tinkaton moved with exceptional speed, encasing their hammer in ice, and then hammering the stealth rocks all around. A rain of powerful frozen stones smashed into Percival like a machine gun, staggering the mighty tyrannosaur, before he fell to the ground with a crash. “A psuedomove. Didn’t realize you knew any.”

“You inspired me to come up with this one! Freeze stealth rocks and fire them off at high speed! A perfect counter to dragons!”

“Not bad.” Samara admitted, “but you forgot one thing. What will you do now that you’ve used all your stealth rocks?”

“Still a choice scarf ice hammer.”

“Indeed, though poor choice of a move to combine with Choice Scarf, given it lowers your own speed. A strong tactic, but one that reduces your potential for strategy!” Samara replied, before sending out Mordred, who winced as the hidden rocks dug into the noivern’s wings. “Hear all that Mordred?”

“I did. This tactic is now useless.” Mordred declared.

“Don’t count us out yet! Ice hammer!” Sam ordered.

“Celerity.” Mordred and Samara spoke as one, and the noivern watched his opponent charge, raise their hammer, and then he vanished. At intense speed, the noivern aimed for the tinkaton’s hammer and the arms holding it, striking at the perfect moment to knock the ice-covered hammer out of their hands. The force of the tinkaton’s swing, and the noivern’s attack, sent the hammer spiraling away, out of the arena.

Beryl tried to lash out with her fists, but without the benefit of their hammer, and now hampered by the power of the Choice Scarf as much as they were boosted by it, they were clumsy. Mordred outmaneuvered the flailing attacks, then countered, grabbing the Tinkaton and twisting to send them spiraling, off-balance, through the stealth rocks on his team’s side. He closed in on the off-balance fairy, grabbing them and using them like a broom to sweep away the stealth rocks before tossing them out of the arena with a triumphant shriek.

The other Sam grimaced. “Yeah, that’s Mordred.”

“Yes. I am.” Mordred replied with a smirk.

“Right then. Now’s the time for it. Hauntkins, get him!” Sam replied, sending out his Gengar, who lunged for Mordred, eyes flashing red.

“Didn’t you just see?” Mordred asked, wing tips igniting with psychic energy. “I’m far from helpless in melee.” There was a flash of psionic energies, and Hauntkins went back, sprawling. The gengar rolled to her feet, seemingly surprised. “No real attack?” Mordred questioned. “And leaving yourself wide open. I thought you were an amateur, but no, that was Destiny Bond, wasn’t it?”

Sam nodded. “You were able to sense it, and pulled your punch, didn’t you?”

“Oh no, if not for the limiter we’d both be unconscious right now. It was a good trick. You just didn’t account for my sudden weakness.” Mordred replied, and turned his back to return to his pokeball. Hauntkins hurled a dark pulse at the noivern’s back, only for it to strike the dark-shrouded hide of a rather irritated Hydreigon. Arthur’s dark pulse on the other hand, had exceptional effect.

Sam looked across the field, still shimmering darkly from the aftereffects of Arthur’s attack. “Yeah, that’s pretty good. But we’re not done yet.” He reached for a very old Pokeball. “Lili! It’s all come down to this! Victory Dance!” He ordered as he sent out his hisuian liligant.

“A setup for a comeback? Not a bad plan, but you gave us the sun. Fire blast!” Samara ordered, and the hydreigon sent a titanic blast of fire at the dancing liligant. Sam grinned, and withdrew an orb. There was a flash of light and heat, and when it faded, Lili was still standing, crowned with a gleaming fairy crown. The liliigant crunched down on a sitrus berry and faced down the opposing dragon.

“Terrastilization.” Samara acknowledged. “I should have seen that coming. But fairy isn’t your win condition. Flash Cannon!”

“No, this is. Tera Blast!”

Before Arthur could even gather the energy for her attack, a surging blast of fairy energy smashed into her, sending her sprawling, down in a single hit. Samara’s eyes widened, and she considered carefully. “That speed. Either victory dance gives you a speed boost, or your ability is chlorophyll.” She observed, watching Lili extremely carefully.

“Both, and it also boosts Attack and Defense. Tera blast uses the higher of attack or special attack.” Sam grinned from across the field. “And the sun we put up back then still has two turns remaining thanks to heat rock.”

“Which, while it’s active, means Lili is even faster than Mordred, while you can one-shot all my remaining pokemon. I underestimated you.” Samara admitted. “What seemed like strange tactics at the time, in fact produced an unorthodox but highly effective strategy, exploiting the information asymmetry caused by your access to terastilization and Lili being a Hisuian pokemon, which means not even Mordred has clear information on them.” Samara considered. “And, since you set up Stealth rocks, if I hadn’t cleared them, it would have rendered Lancelot’s focus sash irrelevant. It would have been a victory for you, however, those Stealth Rocks are no longer a factor thanks to Mordred. In addition, the boosted sun means, even with Sitrus berry, you won’t be more than seventy five percent of your relatively low HP pool. Which means, you’re beaten.” Samara declared confidently. “Lancelot, finish this!”

“Just watch, it’s not over, Tera Blast!” Sam ordered, and a wave of fairy energy swept over the emerging Garchomp. But then, the ground shook, and erupted between the two pokemon, springing up as an offensive wall to block the onslaught. Lili moved to the side, only for the wall to explode, covering the area in blinding, stinging sand. She sought to find an angle of attack, but the garchomp was gone, vanished into the sands. Then, he was upon her, emerging from the sand like something out of a nightmare. Lili took a step back, but Lancelot took one forwards, the ground shook, and the Liligant slipped, stumbling, before Lancelot bore her to the ground. A claw came up, and then the entire arena shook, even making the trainers stagger. There was a sound like breaking glass, and Lili fainted.

As the dust faded, a roar split the sky, as Lancelot stood over his defeated foe, breathing heavily, but still hanging on. His focus sash blew like a scarf in the wind, as the two Sams crossed the arena, and shook hands.

[thebard490]

Sam vs. Iris: The Princess and the Witch!

The arena buzzed with anticipation, humans and pokemon alike excited for what was bound to be the match of the season, as champion and challenger entered the field. Iris descended from the rafters, falling to a near superhero landing in her fine pink dress, before standing upright and smacking her lead’s pokeball into her palm, a wide grin on her face. “I’ve been waiting a long time for someone who can give me a challenge!” She declared and the crowd went wild.

In a blur of Celerity, her challenger appeared, Mordred proudly spreading his wings behind her. The wind of her arrival sent her long coat and mane of white hair flying dramatically. Samara Suruga, Dragon Witch, hero of the Apex War, recalled Mordred, and locked her reptilian eyes with Iris’s. A savage grin spread across her face. “Champion Iris!” She bellowed across the arena. “Sorry to keep you waiting!”

The two trainers approached the center of the arena and shook hands, then bumped knuckles. Then, each retreated to their side, and Iris began adjusting a device on her wrist. There was a click, and a visible surge of power. “I don’t get to do this often, but against you, I get a chance to go all out! Limiter Release!”

Samara’s eyes widened briefly, before narrowing into a delighted challenger’s glare. “I wouldn’t have it any other way than to beat you at your best, bring it on!”

The crowd went wild as the battle began, Witch against the Princess, and each one sending forth their Hydreigion. Above the crowd’s roaring cheers, two voices ordering one command could be heard, sending the excitement even higher.

“DRACO METEOR!”

The two Hydregion both unleashed the strongest Dragon-Type move against one another, two massive orbs of destructive force impacting in the center of the arena, and then exploding outwards in a wave of purple fire. The barriers protecting the audience from the effects of the attacks strained, adding a blinding blue light to the already brilliant battlefield, before vision regained, to show both trainers standing amid a sea of purple flames, but Sam’s Hydregion down, and a cloak of dragon energy gradually receding from Iris’s.

“So, a psuedomove.” Sam considered. “Uses the natural polarity of dragon type energy to repel one of your weaknesses. Clever, you’ll have to teach me that one later!” Undeterred by the loss, she sent her next pokeball out low, skipping along the ground. “Bedivere, I choose you!”

The Flygon hit the ground running, then digging, vanishing under the surface of the arena and evading a trio of Dragon Pulses aimed in his direction. “Our turn with the pseudos. False Precipice!” Then the arena itself seemed to throw itself at the opposing Hydreigon in the form of erupting blades of stone. Iris’s pokemon avoided being impaled, but was still clearly injured by the attack, and far more so when Bedivere emerged from the thickest of the stalagmites and delivered a crushing Dragon Claw to send the opposing pokemon to the ground.

Iris grinned in turn. “Deal! But I want to see how you learned to do that!” She hurled her next ball to the side. “Salemance! Clear the field!” And the roaring red crescent did just that, sweeping aside the majority of the Flygon’s cover and leaving Bedivere exposed to a powerful body blow. Still, the desert pokemon held on.

“Can’t close the distance with an Advancing Guard with that speed, so we’ll have to spam. Bedivere, hit em again, False Precipice!” Bedivere vanished again into the ground, which again hurled itself upwards at the high flying Salemance.

“Won’t work twice! Salemance, Draco Meteor!”

Again, the earth erupted upwards towards the soaring dragon, only to be blasted back down by an overwhelmingly powerful attack, sending Bedivere flying out of his cover, beaten unconscious even through meters of solid rock. Sam had him recalled in an instant, and sent her next ball into the dust cloud.

The Salemance moved with ludicrous speed, and then broke off, only to find the cloud of dust empty. Then Mordred hit it, a blow from above that nearly sent it plummeting to the ground. The audience looked on in shock, as no less than six Noiverns seemed to be hovering in the air above the blood red dragon. “In terms of pure speed, always bet on the bat! Mordred, Imminent Strike!”

“Salemance, sweep those afterimages out of the sky, Acrobatics!”

The two dragons moved faster than the eye could follow, their paths tracing an intricate spiderweb of moves across the air, punctuated by shockwaves as the two met. Both came to a reduced speed, catching their breath and eying the other. Static lingered all around Salemance, but Mordred’s afterimages were dispelled. Then again they clashed, Mordred’s superior speed allowing him to close the distance and hammer his opponent with a point blank dragon pulse, but he wasn’t quick enough to escape the retaliation, which hammered him out of the air and into the ground. The Noivern struggled to rise, looking towards Samara. The two exchanged a long look, before Mordred closed his eyes and allowed himself to succumb to the blow, a satisfied look on his face.

“Iminent Strike, Open.” Samara reported, and then a bolt of lightning tore out of the sky and smashed through Salemance, sending him crashing to the ground. Iris stared in surprise. “Imminent Strike sets up a sure-hit thunder after six seconds, regardless of whether or not the pokemon who set it up faints or not. The only way to avoid it is to protect or switch out.” Samara explained as she recalled her pokemon.

“Clever! Creates another opportunity for him to use his Afterimages because the opponent has to play defensively for a turn if the opponent knows, and allows for a devastating offensive play if they don’t.” Iris replied as she recalled her Salemance. “Won’t work on everyone though, Aggron you’re on!”

“Gawain, take him down!” Sam replied, and sent out Goodra in turn.

“Bold choice. Earthquake!”

“Scald!”

Gawain moved faster, but didn’t target Aggron directly, instead targeting the ground which had already been largely pulverized. A massive gout of water turned the dust and dirt of the battlefield into a thick, steaming, sinking mud, which no matter how hard the Aggron struck, didn’t have enough rigidity to carry the force of an Earthquake. Even more so, the mud clung to the heavier pokemon, and he began to sink into immobility. Gawain prepared another Scald, this one directly aimed at Aggron, but Iris switched out at the last minute. The steam cleared around a Lapras, floating easily on the mud, and only hydrated by the boiling water.

“Thirty percent, and maybe you can survive the seventy, but this one they won’t withstand. Gawain, Draco Meteor!” Samara muttered, then ordered.

“You’re not the only one who can use your surroundings, Blizzard!” Iris ordered, and too late Samara realized her mistake. The swampy environment she had created would freeze solid, transforming the unreliable blizzard Gawain might have survived into a sure-hit attack, with his defenses compromised by his lower body being embedded in the swamp. The draco meteor fizzled out in a sudden freeze that turned the swampy terrain into a solid, slick battlefield, with one Goodra-sicle stuck in it.

Samara’s frustrated expression lasted only a moment before she resolved to a cold focus, and sent out her Tyrantrum. “Percival! Head Smash!”

“Blizzard again!” Iris called, and this time it was her turn to be surprised as Percival crashed across the distance between the two, paying no heed to the ice. Most pokemon would take things slow to avoid a potentially damaging fall on such treacherous terrain, but Percival was using it to help push himself even faster in a devastating headlong charge. He hit the Lapras hard, headfirst, and shattered the ice all around it. His momentum carried both forwards to the edge of the arena before he tossed his unconscious opponent out of bounds.

Iris’s own expression grew more serious as she sent out Aggron again. The two massive pokemon clashed. Percival went for the throat with Fire Fang, powerful jaws dripping with magma. Aggron managed to get an arm up to block the attack, but its armor began to run in molten rivers as Percival bore him to the ground. Aggron brought its free claw up, and then down again in a desperate Earthquake, this time finding purchase and taking down the powerful Tyrantrum in a single hit.

“It’s all come down to you then Lance.” Samara considered. “So, return the favor, Lancelot use Earthquake!” She ordered as she sent out her last pokemon, high into the air. The Garchomp came down and shook the arena, a concentrated shockwave blowing the Aggron off its feet, into the air, and then crushing it between two waves of earth as it fell.

“Two to one, but never count a Garchomp out!” Iris admitted. “Arceops, finish this now! Dragon Claw!”

“Swords Dance.” Samara ordered, drawing a gasp from the audience. The multicolored fossil pokemon rushed for Lancelot, who centered himself, eyes closed. The blow fell, with the garchomp not even attempting to block. So that instead he could lunge for the fossil pokemon’s tail, and bite down. With a twist of his neck and torso, Lancelot caught the flying Arceops and slammed it into the ground. His talon came up, and even barely clinging to consciousness, Lancelot delivered a blow that shook the whole arena, sending any standing viewers falling back into their seat.

“One on one. Never count Lancelot out, and thanks for the Focus Sash by the way!” Samara called across the field, bracing for what would come next.

A towering Haxorus hit the field, every bit as healthy as Lancelot was damaged. Even if both had been at full strength, Samara would have had an uphill battle to bring down this last, virtually insurmountable wall. This was the peak, staring down at her, and ready to throw her off. Sam drew in a breath. “However this next exchange goes, I want you to know, it’s been an incredible time getting here.” She grinned, even in the face of defeat. “I’ve gotten to live out a dream I thought I’d never have, a few months ago I was at the lowest point of my life, and now, here I am, one step from the top of the world. The view here, it’s pretty goddamn spectacular. So, thank you all!” She concluded, and threw the dice. “All or nothing Lance! Dragon Rush!”

A coat of blazing dragon energy surrounded the Garchomp on his last legs, and he moved, a red and blue comet. The audience held its breath, and then it made impact. The barriers flared again in front of Iris, seeming almost ready to crack. Her Haxorus hit the barrier, sparking against it, but then it leaned forwards. “Glad you like it.” Iris replied. “Focus Sash is my favorite item for a reason.”

Then the blow fell, an outrage from the pinnacle of Unova, sending Lancelot crashing back, power blown away, and leaving him on the ground, out cold, in the center of a ruined arena. The crowd went wild, as the scoreboard showed the final result. Victory for Champion Iris, by 1 HP. Samara recalled Lancelot and looked on as Iris congratulated her Haxorus, healing her back up. The Dragon Witch smiled at the princess, and offered a formal bow in congratulations. “Thank you for the match, Iris.” She politely replied, before turning to walk down the stairs. At the top, she paused, and looked over her shoulder. “By the way, see you next season!” She left one last remark, before raising her burn-scared left hand in a warrior’s salute, as she walked down the stairs, a satisfied smile on her face.

[thebard490]

[Video ID: The image displays N, sat on the dias before his throne, hands folded. The throne, indeed the entire room, have clearly been left in disrepair. N's expression is calm, but his eyes burn with a controlled rage.

"Hello again, my friends. I have been quiet a long time. Once, my father tried to make of me a puppet king, using the gifts I was given, my compassion for pokemon, to usurp control of the world. He made a mockery of the cause of pokemon, of their care and protection, for his own selfish ends. We created Team Plasma, and many joined for that cause, to protect pokemon from abuse, to create a new paradigm for the relationships between humans and pokemon, one free of abuse and coercion, where we could stand side by side as friends and partners, not masters and servants. But we were all deceived, used for evil ends. And so I destroyed my father, and departed from the eyes of the world. Plasma became a memory, and a curse. It was better for us all to forsake it, and to pursue the better world by other means. Indeed, we have achieved great sucess in this manner, and so much of the evils that made us necessary seemed to have faded."

"But now, they have returned."

The image flickers, cutting to a series of images from inside the Team Apex base. Bloodstained operating tables, the bodies of pokemon twisted by horrific experimentation. Pokemon locked in cages, or suspended in tubes of strange glowing liquid. Their bodies seem caught halfway between their standard form and mega-evolution. Others seem utterly drained of life. Caynons are shown, filled with uncountable discarded gibble. Others with legions of other discarded pokemon. N speaks over the terrible visions. "Apex." He speaks. "They have committed every possible sin against both humans and pokemon. They treat them as nothing but imperfect tools, not creatures deserving of any respect or care. They conduct the most horrific experiments to try and force a new stage in evolution. They throw away those they consider imperfect to starve and die. They abduct pokemon from loving homes and subject them to all of this. They corrupt the hearts of the youth, turning them towards evil. They swim in oceans of blood and reap uncounted riches from illegal trafficking, selling, and all manner of other criminal enterprise, and they shroud themselves in a veneer of respectability. Now, their secret is exposed. They march for the Giant Chasm, to repeat the greatest sin of my father and control Kyruem, even seeking to force a primal reversion to return it to the state of the original dragon. This evil is too great. It cannot go unanswered."

The images return to N, who stands. "And so the world has need of us once more. One more time, I call upon you, to return. Take up your arms, don your armor, and gird yourselves for war. One last fight, one more push to block the plans of the evildoer, to scour them from our homes and our world. I bid you, awaken from your slumber, heed the call once more to defend the defenseless, protect the weak, to roar for the voiceless! Awaken once more to the cry of your hearts, all you who love pokemon, and who will stand for a world where we may live in harmony. Plasma, Unova, once more I bid you RISE! My banner stands at the Giant Chasm. There we will stop Apex, there we will punish them for their transgressions, and there once more, we will show the world the power of our ideals."

End ID]

[thebard490]

Sam and Adam vs Drey: First and Final Gym Battle!

[Video ID: The Unova Sports Programing Network flies into screen and cuts to two balding men in behind a comically large desk. “You’re watching USPN. Your Unova, Your Sports, all the time!” The stinger declares, before the man on the left begins to speak.

“Hello and welcome back to our coverage of the 2023 Fall Battling Season. Today, we’ve got a match even Champion Iris is excited to see, featuring the final gym battle of this season’s breakout rookie, the Dragon Witch Samara!”

“That’s right Tom. Iris herself has been spotted in the stands at the Undella Town gym.” James notes, as a cut-in displays Iris eagerly snacking on popcorn on the stands. “Seems she’s looking to eye up a potential challenger to her title.”

“I don’t think the Dragon Witch is quite on that level James, but she’s certainly been putting on some of the more explosive battles this season, and this time she’s brought a partner.” The video shows Samara and Adam proceeding through the gym challenge together. “No less than Adam Lodestar, the FLIP agent who exposed their blackmail and punched Reshiram in the face.”

“I’ll give her this much; she certainly knows how to get people talking. Wrecking Skyla’s gym, training under Drayden just to nearly level his, and now showing up with a zero-badge maverick as her partner for the doubles focused gym.”

“It’s not a bad strategy. Adam’s old job at FLIP does make him an expert at handling multiple pokemon at once, though how well that translates to battling is yet to be seen. Some people are suggesting she’s deliberately trying to throw off Drey’s strategy by bringing in a zero-badge trainer who nobody knows outside of what he can do, rather than his pokemon. Of course I highly doubt Drey’s going to fall for that kind of trick.”

“I think it might also be because of his unique pokemon. Taking a look at Adam’s setup, he’s got access to a Tinkaton as well as an extremely rare paradox pokemon, Flutter Mane.”

“That kind of just looks like a green misdraevus to me. Sure it’s not just a shiny?”

“No that’s just what they used to look like a few thousand years ago. It’s also a lot more powerful than a standard Misdraevus. Check these stats.”

Jesse spits out his coffee. “You’ve got to be pulling my leg here.”

“Nope that’s what its stats are.”

“Arc, well with firepower like that it doesn’t matter if Adam’s a rookie or not. Plus, Tinkaton have been making waves in the international scene ever since Paldea was admitted to the World Tournament. And Garchomp, well, needs no introduction.”

“Well we’re about to see if raw power can make up for a lack of experience. Here they come.”

The two challengers face off against Drey, who awaits them on the central platform. They shake hands, and exchange a few words.

“Bout time you came by Sam. I’m a little flattered you decided to save me for last.” Drey notes. “But don’t think I’ll go easy on you.”

“Please, I came here last precisely so you wouldn’t.” Sam grins. “You’re one of the strongest trainers I know. So, if I’m really ready to take on the top, best way to test is challenging you at your best. Besides, this way Mordred finally gets to have some fun with Unavo.”

Drey gulps slightly, and then notices Adam’s a bit nervous. He claps the FLIP agent on the shoulder. “You’ll be fine, let’s have some fun with it.”

Adam draws in a breath, and nods, a grin spreading across his face. “Yeah, lets do this.”

The combatants return to their starting positions, each one grasping a pokeball, or in Drey’s case, two. “Alright then, LET’S GO!” Drey roars in excitement, and the crowd goes wild as the sides deploy.

“And Drey’s starting with his standard 8-badge lead, Samurot and Volcarona! Sam’s got her Goodra on the field, and there’s Adam’s Tinkaton!”

“I’m not sure on using Tinkaton here James, it’s rather vulnerable to Volcarona and limited in its use against Samurot. Goodra is a decent lead into this, maybe she’ll go for Scald to burn Samurot and weaken his attack?”

“Could also see a Draco meteor to try to quickly eliminate the Volcorona but No! Too slow, that’s a Fiery Dance headed straight for Adam’s Tinkaton!”

Drey’s Volcorona flies swiftly to the side, and fires off a blast of fire at Tinkaton, but Sam’s Goodra quickly intercepts. The goodra propels itself in front of the blast using a Scald, and then surrounds its body in the steaming water. The oncoming fire strikes the water shield, detonating it into a powerful blast of steam which damages the opposing team.

“What’s this? A pseudomove! He’s turned Scald into a sort of protect!”

“Closer to a Shell Trap Tom. She must have been impressed with Drayden’s use of the move. But it’s only one use, and here comes Samurot with Razor Shell!”

Samurot rapidly closes in on the recovering Goodra, only to be suddenly intercepted by Tinkaton. Her hammer comes down hard, the impact leaving a crater in the field and blowing away the steam. However, it failed to make contact, as Samurot stopped short, leaping back to avoid the devastating crash.

“That power.” James mutters. “Even with a resistance to Steel, Samurot can’t afford to take a hit like that head on.”

“How do they manage to pack so much muscle in such a small pokemon?”

The two teams remain at a tense standoff for a moment, Drey’s brow furrowed. “That pseudomove combines the defensive power of a Protect with a retaliation similar to Shell Trap, though far weaker. Even still, there’s got to be a restriction for how it works. In order to activate the retaliation, the water has to be detonated, probably with a fire move or one that makes physical contact. So, Appie! Bug Buzz on Gawain. Backlash close in and finish him off with another Razor Shell while Bonk’s recovering.”

The Volcorona and Samurot comply, rapidly moving to assault the Goodra. Powerful sonic waves from the flame moth bombard the goo dragon, pinning him down as Samurott blurs past the tinkaton. However, Bonk simply grins, and her hammer cracks slightly. Whirling, she pulls another hammer, this one made of wood, out of the first hammer, and catches Samurott off guard, sending him flying. “Supplies!” She declares gleefully, probably trying to say “surprise”.

“Was that wood hammer? Yes our sensors say it was, and it’s super effective!” Tom cheers. “Samurott is outa’ here!”

“Forget outa’ here he’s outa the ballpark. Arm like that she’s gonna get drafted for the Castelia Charizards.”

“They’d still lose with that pitcher of theirs.”

“Oh, probably but it’d make their matches a lot more fun.”

Gawain stands up from under the barrage of noise from Appie, and raises his hands above his head. Gathering a massive amount of dragon energy into a ball, he hurls it at the moth. She manages to evade the ball, but not its resulting explosion, which covers half the field and sends her smoking to the ground.

“Draco meteor. Even neutral the sheer firepower of that attack makes it a great ace in the hole.”

“True, though Unavo’s on the other side, so soon Sam’s going to see the receiving end of that move perfected. Still, round 1 to the challengers.”

Drey smiles widely, and then frowns slightly when he sees a pair of evil grins spreading across Sam and Adam’s faces. His eyes narrow. “You two are up to something aren’t you.”

“Absolutely.” Sam returns. “But there’s no running from a trainer battle. Least of all as a gym leader.” Sam has begun to radiate a powerful menacing aura.

Adam grins. “Come on Drey, you said we should have some fun right?”

Drey stares. “That I did, alright let’s do this. Luka, Lumineer, burn em down!” He declares as he sends out his houndoom and chandelure.

“Lancelot!” Sam declares.

“Gash!” Adam answers, and they both send out their Garchomp, and then as one issue an order.

“Bring the house down! Double Earthquake!”

The Garchomp leap from their balls, and slam down with earth shattering force. The entire building shakes as the arena buckles and sways like a calm pond with a pair of stones thrown into it. However, the reaction quickly slips out of control, tearing the arena apart and leaving a massive cloud of dust. As it clears, the announcer’s reaction is incredulous. “They’ve destroyed everything in the arena! Including each other!”

“Whoops.” Adam comments.

Indeed, both Garchomp are unconscious, as are Drey’s pokemon. Drey looks at the utter mess the two have made of his gym, and then at the two of them. “Guys, have you not used earthquake in a double battle before?”

The expressions of Sam and Adam indicate that they haven’t. “Usually my team knows how to avoid it.” Adam offers.

Drey busts out laughing, and soon the others join him, and all recall their pokemon. Despite the chaos, it’s clear all involved have been having a great time. “Guys, I set aside funds for repairs but can we please not level my entire gym?”

“Well it was mostly supposed to just sink the battle platform.” Sam admitted. “Thunder can’t miss if you’re up to your knees in water.”

“Honestly, not a terrible plan, though come on! This is taxpayer funded!”

“Good, I’m finally getting my money’s worth!” Sam replies. “Alright enough of this, ready to finish things off?”

“Yeah. Alright. Unavo! Hibachi!”

“Phantasma!”

“Mordred!”

All three trainers send out their aces, after which the arena is filled with evil chuckling. “FOOLS!” Unavo declares. “NOW YOU WILL FACE YOUR DOOM! COMANDER ABILITY ACTIVATE. FUSION HA- HEY!” His monologue turns to protest as Mordred seemingly teleports to the fish and hauls him into the air, far from Hibachi. “PUT ME DOWN! YOU CAN’T JUST INTERUPT AN ABILITY!”

“Celerity. Psuedomove of psychic mimicking extreme speed. So yes, I can, especially when you monologue. All yours Adam!” Mordred replies, tossing Unavo up into the air. Adam orders a Moonblast, which hits Unavo squarely in the body and sends him flying.

And then, he gets back up, laughing maniacally. “FOOL! BEHOLD, THE COLD IRON BRACER! MY LATEST INVENTION. IT RENDERS ME UTTERLY IMMUNE TO FAIRY-TYPE ATTACKS!” He grins, displaying what appears to be a metal belt.

“Hibachi, order up.” Drey commands, as his Dodonzo moves to strike Mordred with his tail, but the bat dragon evades.

“Not a bad move, would have put me flat on my a** if it hit, but too slow.” Mordred remarks, before striking Hibachi across the face with an electric move of some kind and retreating. Curiously, the move seems to have no effect on the water type.

“And we’ve got more than just moonblast ya D*mn fish! Energy Ball!” Adam orders, and Unavo dives off the side of the platform, barely evading the attack before leaping back out and firing off a Chilling Water at Phantasma. She Whooo’s angrily in response, and readies another attack, but is too late.

Hibachi and Unavo reach one another, and combine, the smaller fish dragon nesting safely in the larger one’s mouth. “Alright, now it’s over!” Drey declares. “Over-Order!”

Unavo conjures a similar spirit bomb of dragon energy, and tosses it into the air, as it comes back down, Hibachi strikes it with his tail and sends it rocketing at Mordred.

“There it is, Unavo’s ultimate pseudo-move, a perfected draco meteor!” Tom declares, as a massive explosion fills the arena.

“I mean, it’s a good draco meteor, faster than normal, but it’s still slow, too much time dedicated to looking good.” Mordred notes, standing to the side, not deleted by a Draco Meteor. “All flash, no substance.”

“What, HOW?”

“Celerity. I swapped with Phan.” Mordred replies, indicating the spook hovering happily in the midst of the purple flames, completely unaffected by them, but slightly confused as to how she got to her new position. “Now then, another one with a bit of flash and substance.”

Static electricity begins to gather on Hibachi’s skin, concentrated around the area Mordred hit earlier. “Hibachi move!” Drey orders, sending the fish moving at top speed.

“Sorry, but this one never misses. Imminent Strike. Open.”

A massive bolt of lightning tears down out of the heavens, as the static on Hibachi’s body catalyzes and leaps upwards to meet it. An unavoidable and devastating bolt of lightning hammers down on the combined fish. “Pseudomove of Thunder.” Mordred explains. “Takes a turn of making contact with the target to set up, but then, one round later. Boom. Since you combined, conducts nicely, especially with that iron bracer of yours Unavo.”

Said iron bracer somehow explodes, KOing Hibachi and sending Unavo flying. He manages to get to his feet, ranting. “DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH THAT- uh oh.” He notes, as Adam directs Phan’s attention to him with a laser pointer. The arena turns pink with the light of a Moonblast, and Unavo is down.

The crowd cheers, including apparently Bonk, who somehow during all of this snuck off and found some pom poms. With the cheers of the crowd and a cheerleader Tinkaton in their ears, both trainers are awarded their badges. Adam receiving a badge seems to deeply confuse him, but he shrugs after Drey explains it to him.

“Well there you have it, Badge 8 for the Dragon Witch, and Badge 1 for the Dragon Puncher.” Tom remarks. “Looks like Iris might have a challenger fairly soon.”

“Oh she knows and she’s excited. Take a look.” James notes, as the camera zooms in on Iris, a massive grin on her face, eyes fixed on Sam. Sam’s expression upon noticing this is best compared to a deer in the headlights, and she rapidly leaves the arena, suddenly covered in sweat.

[thebard490]

Battle Breakdown: Sam vs. Drayden, Duel of Dragons!

(Video Id: A noivern hopping back from the camera. “Finally got it in one. Hello! Welcome back to battle breakdown! I’m Mordred and in this series I break down the tactics, strategies, and techniques used in battling. This time, a head on clash and object lesson in how to handle super-effective matchups, my trainer, the Dragon Witch Samara, vs. the Spartan Mayor, Drayden!”

“Now, for a bit of context, Sam’s actually been training with Drayden for a while. As they’re both dragon-type trainers, Sam’s been fairly eager to learn with him over the past bit. With that in mind, each one of them knows the other’s tricks, at least somewhat, and we’ve also seen some changes to Sam’s team, plus Drayden’s bringing out an unusually strong one for the seventh badge. Let’s get into both.��

The screen cuts to Sam’s trainer card, displaying a Noivern, Deino, Goodra, Garchomp, Flygon, and Tyrantrum. “So, Sam’s not going to be using me in this battle, as I’m still thirty levels higher than the rest of my teammates, and she won’t be using Arthur either, since she’s too low level and trying to push her up to the level of the rest of the team would drop her squarely into the Zwielous evolution. We’re saving that trouble for a dedicated space, and even then, against Drayden’s team, she’d still fall behind, so really, Sam’s working with a team of four, but four fairly strong ones.”

“First off, Gawain the Goodra. You’ve probably seen him turning the Mistralton city gym into a slimy mess. Excellent special attack and nearly unbreakable special defense, including with his Assault Vest. He also boasts Scald for hampering physical attackers using a Burn, Ice Beam for freeze, Sludge Bomb to poison and deal with fairies, and Draco Meteor for when something absolutely needs to go down, but he’ll need to switch out after that. A well rounded moveset supplemented with Scald-Derived pseudomoves, he’s an excellent teammate, although he remains vulnerable to physical attacks.”

“Next, Percival the Tyrantrum, making the most of his Strong Jaw and exceptional physical attack stat with Fire, Thunder, and Ice Fang, along with a brutal STAB head smash. He’s the one member of the team without a Dragon-type move, but he brings excellent coverage, boosted even further by Strong Jaw and his Expert belt. A pure physical attacker and a straightforward combatant, but he boasts decent physical defense alongside murderous physical attack.”

“After him, Lancelot the Garchomp. Percival makes the most of his abilities and item to provide great coverage and maximizes his damage outside of that. But in terms of pure physical offense, Lancelot runs away with superior Attack and Speed, leaning fully into it with STAB Dragon Claw and Earthquake, alongside Iron Head to shatter physical defenses. Unlikely that he’ll need it though, because he wears a Focus Sash to help safely set up Sword Dance. While the Garchomp line doesn’t get the crucial speed boost of Dragon Dance, they make up for it with the sheer overwhelming power of Swords Dance. If Lancelot gets tat off, he’s going to one-shot everything on Drayden’s team.”

“Finally, Bedivere, the Flygon. The Flygon line is interesting. While they’re not as bulky as Goodra, or as offensively strong as Garchomp or Tyrantrum, they’re instead a very well rounded, decently fast, decently strong physical attacker. They can fill a wide variety of roles, but I’ve found in working with Bedivere that his mind is his strongest asset. While a Trapinch might be dumb as a post, Vibrava and Flygon think nearly twice as fast as humans, however they think smaller thoughts. This is a neurological adaptation necessary for processing information from their compound eyes and operating their complex wings. Flygon aren’t rocket scientists, but their ability to think quickly makes them highly adaptable. Beyond this, Bedivere has taken to pseudomoves like a fish to water, developing several from a unique moveset of Steel Wing, Dig, Earthquake, and Dragon Claw.”

The screen cuts back to the noivern, who has a proud expression. “Overall, these four have each become excellent Pokemon, each in their own unique way. Gawain’s cool head and sheer bulk, Bedivere’s quick thinking, Percival’s natural combat instinct, and Lancelot’s more refined technique, all are valuable assets to their trainer, and with their full evolutions, they’re now reaching the point where they can fully express their talents. However, it won’t be easy in the slightest. Drayden’s team is every bit as strong, and he’s got a two mon advantage.”

The screen sweep cuts to Drayden’s gym card, showing a team of 6. Dudgrion, Flygon, Altaria, ???, ???, and Haxorus. “Drayden isn’t messing around. Even with her previous training with him, Sam’s got an uphill battle against his team. She’ll need to pick up two KO’s just to even the odds, and none of Drayden’s team are weak. Let’s address them one by one.”

“Druddigon. Sheer force boosting the damage of attacks by 30% if they would normally have another effect makes Druddigon an excellent offensive threat, but also slightly limits their movesets. Regardless, an excellent offensive Pokemon, though I’m not sure they make the best leads. Dragon Tail and Rock Slide both heavily benefit from his ability, as does Crunch since it can flinch. However Revenge would likely be better on a Rough Skin Druddigon.”

“Flygon. As discussed with Bedivere, these guys are versatile, tricky fighters. However, one thing that’s true of both Flygon and Garchomp, and also Tyrantrum, is that they suffer from an exceptional x4 weakness to Ice. Any hit from an Ice-type move is going to be extremely dangerous for them, and so both sides will need to be very careful to keep away from the opponent’s Ice Fang users. Interesting mixed set on his, Rock Slide, Earth Power, Dragon Tail, and Crunch. Able to outspeed and deal decent damage to most opponents, or send troublesome ones away with Dragon Tail.”

“Altaria. Those of you who saw Sam’s battle with Skyla know that these guys are pretty well useless when they’re soaked, but that weakness is no reason to underestimate them. They can be impressively bulky with all that fluff, and boast offensive firepower in their own right. There’s a reason Sam’s plan revolved around neutralizing Skyla’s, but there won’t be an option for that here. Not only does Drayden know that trick, unlike Skyla he’s smart enough to not fall for it in the first place.”

“Hydregion. Dragon types are known as special attackers, and Hydregion is the strongest of them all. A Pseudo-Legendary with a temper the power that kind of a description warrants. Thankfully this one isn’t packing Nasty Plot. I’ve seen that set tear through Sylveon in one hit, and I don’t just mean a knockout. Dark and Dragon Pulses for STAB effectiveness, Flash Cannon and Flamethrower for coverage. If I had to guess, Drayden’s sticking with these in favor of Fire Blast and Draco Meteor to avoid causing permanent injury, or maybe he just prefers the consistent accuracy, can’t say I blame him. Either way a pure special attacker and a serious threat to everyone on the team. Even Gawain’s not going to be able to take more than two hits from him.” 

“From an offensive threat to a defensive one, Turtonator. The fire/dragon type gives him a distinct advantage against teams that would normally rely on Ice and Fairy moves to deal with dragons, along with STAB coverage against them, along with excellent physical defenses. This combines nicely with Shell Trap to punish moves that make physical contact if the opponent tries to close the distance. An excellent mixup for Drayden’s team. Flamethrower, Dragon Pulse, Shell Trap, and Shell Smash. Those latter two certainly can lead to some interesting mind games. If Drayden anticipates a switch to a pokemon who can safely avoid Shell Trap, he can get off Shell Smash and suddenly turn his tank into a major offensive threat.”

“Finally…” Mordred takes a deep breath, before addressing Drayden’s ace. “Belisarius. Drayden’s Haxorus. These guys scare me in general. Belisarius in particular terrifies me. We have… history. Nothing fancy about them, they’re just some of the most lethal pokemon in Unova by simple physics. In terms of their offensive firepower, practically unmatched. Other dragons might technically have higher Attack, but that’s only half the story. Those axe blades of theirs concentrate the sizeable mass and speed of their heads into a very small point. Quite simply, anything they hit with those has a good chance of going down. It doesn’t matter how much HP you have, how much defense, a direct hit from their Guillotine will put you down. Even outside of that, Earthquake is no joke, and Mold Breaker means Levitate offers no defense against it. Dragon Claw is actually accurate and more than sufficient to cleave through most things, and Dragon Dance can push his attack and speed into truly terrifying levels. He is without a doubt the strongest Ace in Unova, and he is a nightmare. Well, there’s one stronger, but given he’s her father and thirty years older, I don’t think the right hand of the Champion being stronger than him is much of a mark against the old executioner.”

“With each one of these powerful contenders laid out, you can see that this is going to be a truly earth shaking clash, and should have noted one other thing. Every single Pokemon here, no matter which way they’re paired up, is super-effective against one another, and most of those are STAB besides. Now, while having two entire teams lined up this was is rare except for when dragons duel, the situation where each side has a STAB move that’s super effective against the other, or even just both have SE moves, aren’t that uncommon. In particular at higher levels, coverage moves mean that SE on both sides isn’t that rare. Now normally this can lead to a switch and the complex psychology of reads involved in that. This battle doesn’t have that, so instead it’s going to be an excellent showcase of dealing with this sort of high stakes situation in a variety of different ways, besides just being one of the most spectacular battles I’ve seen in quite some time. Let’s get into it.”

The video cuts to a recording, as Drayden and Sam stand opposite each other atop the black and white dragons of Opelucid City. The crowd goes silent as the two approach one another, and bow deeply, before returning to their positions. “Samara. Show me what you’ve learned.” Drayden calls out as he turns.

“It will be my honor Drayden-Sensei!” Samara replies, and the two send out their first Pokemon. Samara sends out Gawain, Drayden his Druddigon, and the crowd begins to cheer. Druddigon barrels forwards to use Dragon Tail, but Gawain uses Ice Beam, covering the arena in frost. The Goodra uses the force of his own attack to push himself away on the rapidly growing ice, while the Druddigon stumbles briefly on the suddenly slick surface. Gawain takes advantage, and blasts Druddigon with Draco Meteor to KO him. The video pauses.

“So, for Showdown maniacs, one might assume that just outspeeding your opponent to land your Super-Effective attack first would be enough. Well, not necessarily. Even with a speed disadvantage, ranged attacks have the advantage of easier spacing. You have to be in melee to hit with a melee attack after all. Always remember, the accuracy numbers of any attack are listed within their optimal range, and when your opponent is too far away to hit, the accuracy is always zero. In this way, better spacing through the use of ranged attacks and controlling the environment are extremely useful in these sorts of clashes.”

The video resumes. Sam sends out Bedivere, her Flygon, and Drayden sends out his own. “A mirror match. In this case, there’s a crucial gamble to be made. Which one has the higher speed? You don’t know your opponent’s IVs or EVs going in, and even if it’s the same, it can be a fifty/fifty, while both sides may be capable of one-shotting the other with a good hit. So, how does one react with the same capability on either side of the field?” The video pauses. “There are three options. Firstly, you can gamble that you will outspeed your opponent. If you both do this, fifty/fifty odds of winning the trade. Secondly you can defend with moves like Protect or a defensive pseudomove, this costs your opponent power points. Useful if your opponent is using low PP moves like Fire Blast. Third, you can switch, and refuse the mirror, but will give your opponent a free hit if they chose to attack. Or, you can find a way to do both.”

The video resumes. “Bedivere, Advancing Guard!”

“Interesting. Dragon Tail.” Drayden muses.

The two flygon move forwards towards one another. Bedivere coats his wings in steel energy, and then stops beating them, positioning one wing forwards like a shield, the other ready for a counterstrike. His opposite number advances, and swings a tail infused with energy against the shield. This drives Bedivere back, but inflicts little damage due to the shield. Bedivere holds on as long as he can, but ultimately only manages to deliver a counterstrike before being forced back into his ball. The video pauses. “In this case, Drayden refuses the mirror match by using Dragon tail to force a switch, and still also manages to attack, so a partial gamble, and partial refusal. Sam meanwhile used a pseudomove, a variant on Steel Wing, to try and attack and defend at the same time, though doing so means Bedivere still took damage and was forced out, and only inflicted minor damage.”

The video resumes, and Sam sends out Percvial. The Tyrantrum lands between Flygon and Drayden, obscuring the old trainer’s view of the battlefield. “Thank you very much for the free switch, Drayden-Sensei!” Sam offers, tone teasing but still ultimately respectful. “Now then, Percival, Ice Fang!”

Percival goes for the ice fang, but instead of biting down on a relatively fragile Flygon, he instead strikes the hot, hard shell of a Turtonator, with minimal effect. He leaps back like he’s just bitten a hot stove, and regards the dragon turtle very carefully. Each trainer stares at the other with careful intent, before they move again. Percival uses Head Smash, successfully KOing Turtonator, before being taken out in turn by the detonating spikes. The video pauses.

“No, this isn’t telepathy, it’s contingency. Sam and Drayden have battled each other a few times while she was training under him, and each one knows what the other can do. Drayden knows that Percival has no moves that avoid contact, and so any move other than a switch is going to result in Shell Trap being triggered, meaning that if Sam wants to keep Percival in, she has to switch. That would imply that Shell Smash would be the right play. However, if he does that and Sam keeps Percival in for a Head Smash, then he’s down a pokemon for no benefit. If Sam switches and Drayden goes for Shell Smash, she now has to deal with the possibility of being swept by a Turtonator of all things. So, having already considered possible strategies, the option which consistently offers the highest reward results in the trade. All planned out before the battle even began, since this isn’t the first time Percy has eaten a Shell Trap to the face.”

The video resumes, and both trainers bring out their Flygon again. The two trainers smile at one another slightly, before issuing orders. “Dragon Claw!” Sam roars.

“Dragon Tail!” Drayden replies.

The two flygon rush at one another, but this time Bedivere pulls a trick. He drops out of the air and begins running along the ground, slipping under the increased reach of Dragon Tail before springing back into the air to uppercut his opposite number with a powerful Dragon Claw, knocking the other Flygon out. “As I always say, never sweat the intangibles.” Mordred says, beaming with pride.

As quickly as the sense of triumph comes, it passes in the face of dread as Drayden sends out Hydreigon. Bedivere and Sam both visibly narrow their eyes at the sight of the immensely powerful pseudo-legendary. The crowd stills slightly, as Drayden nods, and issues an order for a dragon pulse in his usual calm, stern manner. Sam withdraws Bedivere, and quickly deploys Gawain instead. The attack impacts on the slime dragon, and pushes him a step back, before he finds his footing and repulses it. Gawain’s expression is unusually serious for a normally rather silly looking Goodra. Sam has begun to visibly sweat, the strain of the intense battle clear on the rookie trainer’s face, only amplified further by the clash against one of Drayden’s most powerful pokemon.

“Alright. This is all I need from you and then you can rest Gawain. Draco Meteor!”

“Don’t allow it. Dragon Pulse, again!” Drayden orders, and the Hydreigon complies, firing off another blast. The powerful energy washes over Gawain, the impact blowing Sam’s hair wildly as purple flames blaze around her. Then they begin to blaze with even brighter light, as Gawain conjures an orb of similar energy between himself and the incoming attack, fueling it with his own power, and sending it hurling back at the Hydreigon. The dragon pulse’s beam is pushed aside by the significantly more powerful attack, and the huge ball of draconic energy explodes in the hydra’s face, sending it crashing back towards Drayden. The old trainer, unphased by three hundred and fifty kilograms of dragon hurtling at his face, simply raises his hand and recalls the incoming pokemon midflight.

The video pauses. “Of course, this is the simplest strategy for dealing with an opponent where you both have Super Effective moves against each other. If you have the HP and defensive stats to take a hit, you can trade hits, provided you can also bring enough firepower to lay your opponent low faster than they can defeat you. This can wear you down over the course of a long battle, but it’s not the worst short-term strategy.” The video resumes, and as if to prove this point, Gawain falls to a knee, breathing heavily, before struggling back up onto his feet. Sam recalls him with a smile. “Could have put that on Saturday morning cartoons Gawain. Good job.”

Drayden sends out Altaria, and Sam sends out Bedivere, her flygon, in response. Drayden orders a Dragon Pulse, and Sam, curiously, orders Dig. Bedivere vanishes under the ground in a sudden spray of basalt dust, leading Drayden to raise an eyebrow. “Dragon dance.” He orders, clearly expecting the move to not affect his Altaria. “You’re up to something, aren’t you Samara?”

“Well, I couldn’t show you all my tricks during training. What do you think Mordred and Bedivere were up to off on their own? Show them what you figured out Bed, False Precipice!” The ground begins to shake, and suddenly stalagmites erupt from the ground underneath Altaria, catching the Flying pokemon off guard and leaving it hanging limply among the jagged rocks. Bedivere emerges from the ground, clearly bruised. The video pauses.

“So, a bit of explanation here. First off, another excellent way to not get hit by a super effective attack is to simply be unable to be hit, either by manipulating your opponent’s accuracy, or using a move like Fly, Dig, or Phantom Force that takes you off the field to “dodge”’ an attack. Bedivere pulled this trick here, and then supplemented it with a Pseudomove we’ve labeled “false precipice” as it holds a passing resemblance to Precipice Blades. As it turns out, if you use Earthquake on the bedrock of an arena directly, you can create this effect. Of course, this requires you to be underground, so it takes up two move slots, requiring dig and earthquake, and also causes recoil damage. In exchange, you get a single target rock-type earthquake. Excellent for catching flying types off guard. It’s a costly move, but grants Bedivere a powerful mix-up out of Dig and a counter to otherwise troublesome Flying Types.”

The video resumes, and each trainer withdraws their pokemon. “You know what’s next, of course. And saved him for it.” Drayden notes, and reaches for an old acorn-made Hisuian Pokeball. “It’s time. Show me the height of your strength. Belisarius, THE TIME HAS COME!” He roars, sending out his Haxorus. The venerable pokemon is covered with the scars of a lifetime of battling, but still stands proudly, his blades sharpened by uncountable victories.

“You heard the man Lancelot, let’s do this!” Samara roars in reply, sending forth the young Garchomp in response. The two pokemon, young and old, face one another. Lancelot takes a step forwards, and raises his arms, displaying his bright red belly and flaring his wings. Belisarius in turn shakes his head from side to side, scraping his head blades along the stones until they spark and shine. “The height of power, eh? Swords Dance.”

“Dragon Dance.” Drayden responds. His Haxorus brings his foot down, as a cloud of black and purple sweeps around and into him, making his old scars glow with pure energy, and lighting dances along his blades. In contrast, Lancelot stands square, feet under shoulders, and brings his claws together in a manner almost mimicking prayer. Energy blazes along his talons, wings, and fangs, sharp and bright. He puts one foot forwards, and the ground shakes.

“Once, long ago, men called the power of the dragons “the color of kings”, for their power was enough to conquer nations, and the ability to control these incredible pokemon was considered a sign of a divine right to rule.” Drayden considers. “This was such a limited understanding of what it is. Each energy wielded by Pokemon is part of the fundamental nature of the world, but that of Dragons is poorly understood. It is not the power to rule the world, but instead the power to conceive the world. To imagine what might be, what should be, what must be. To define truth and embody ideals, to dream and then make that dream a reality. That is the power of the dragons. They are the guardians of Arceus’s dream of how the world should be, the lords of fantastic places born from imagination. Those who are attuned to them, we are those who dream most deeply, and make the imaginary real, potential into action. Conquerors, artists, inventors, and teachers. This is what it means to embody that power. So then, Samara, you who carry the shadow of the fantastic alongside me.” Drayden points a challenging finger. “Show me the power of your dreams!”

Samara smiles, proudly. “Thank you for showing me how. Now then, Lancelot, shake the heavens and the earth!”

Both trainers break into grins like madmen. “Earthquake!” They roar, and the two dragons answer. A wave of black basalt in hexagonal scales roars forth from Sam’s position, met by a moving mountain of marble. The two dragon statues seem ready to tear one another apart as the shockwaves strike one another with the force of moving mountains.

“Lancelot, move through the stone and strike them down, Dragon Claw!”

“Cleave.” Drayden replies, a single and a singular word, answered with a singular strike. Lancelot dives into the freshly formed mountain and begins digging his way through, just in time for the mountain to be cut in half. The top part of the rock formation goes flying, cut apart like butter by a single strike from the Haxorus’s blades. “Now, Earthquake.” Drayden continues, and the lower half of it is reduced to rubble.

But no Garchomp is found in the rubble, as Lancelot leaps from the flying upper half, crashing into battle to deliver a devastating blow across the whole of Belisarius’s body, the impact sending the elder Pokemon staggering back, the shockwave ripping two massive gouges in the arena on either side of him. But as Lancelot catches his breath, the massive titan still stands, and now brings his massive axe head down, wreathed in murderous energy.

Lancelot takes a step back to brace himself, and blocks with both arms and all the force he can muster. The clashing energies ripple off one another in terrible bolts, making the arena shake. Neither dragon actually makes contact with one another, the energies radiating off their natural weapons repulsing one another like potent magnetic fields. Lancelot is clearly struggling though, against the overwhelming mass and leverage of his larger opponent. Then Belisarius brings his foot down. The earth shakes.

Lancelot stumbles.

A blow like the sword of an angry god scythes through him, leaving a single, gaping chasm that Sam must dodge to avoid falling into. Lancelot staggers back, eyes rolling back in his head, ready to fall.

And then he brings his foot down.

Lancelot’s head snaps forwards, his eyes shark-black. As the Haxorus tries to raise his head for another swing, Lancelot meets it with a counter, and the terrible clash of dragons resumes. But now Lancelot has the leverage, and the weight of Belisarius’s head works against him. The crowd is going insane, as Belisarius brings his foot down, and Lancelot matches. The shockwaves of the two earthquakes ripple off one another, sending ripples through both of the dragons, black basalt shooting up and out like glitching textures, and white marble splintering into spiderwebs. Even with all of this, even with the leverage and gravity on his side, Lancelot is still not able to break through Belisarius’s dragon claw.

He brings his foot down again, and the crowd goes silent. A slash cleaves through empty air. Lancelot is now above his venerable foe, one arm raised high and blazing with power. Then he brings it down, with a sound like thunder, and drives Belisarius into the ground, knocking the elder dragon off his feet and smashing his face into the stone with enough force to leave an imprint.

Then it gets back up.

The massive Haxorus pulls itself back to its feet with seeming ease, shaking off chunks of stone like a dog shaking off water. Then it bows again to Lancelot, and walks back to Drayden. Lancelot watches him silently, and then sits down like he never wants to get up again. “Congratulations Samara. Well done.” Drayden says with clear pride. “Though next time we battle, it will have to be elsewhere. I do not think my gym will survive when I face you without limiters.”

Sam looks mildly ill at that suggestion, but manages to make her way across the broken ground to shake Drayden’s hand and claim her badge, though she does so without saying much of anything. At least not loudly enough for the cameras to hear.

“I didn’t comment much through that section I admit.” Mordred comments. “Because quite frankly it would take away from things, and on some level, that’s not the kind of thing where trainers can necessarily have as much impact. The rest of this battle was between Sam and Drayden. That last round was Belisarius testing Lancelot. When it comes to a clash of true power like that, grand strategies start to break down, save for Lance’s focus Sash, or else that would have been over the moment he took that Dragon Claw. Ultimately, no matter what kind of battle it is, you eventually do need to be able to trust your Pokémon, in the training before hand, understanding of technique, and a million other factors that ensure that battling is always unpredictable. Duels between dragons are always brutal, and while we’ve covered many ways to deal with these kinds of high stakes matchups, from speed, to toughness to strategy, trades, handling mirrors, there are still things that you can’t boil down to simple science.”

“Here there be dragons, so be bold and be ready, because the maps won’t ever cover everything. Much as I make this series about understanding the strategy and tactics of a battle, don’t make the mistake that you can win just by thinking, because some things you can’t think of until you see them. Until next time, I’ve been Mordred, this has been Battle Breakdowns, thank you very much, and goodbye.”

[thebard490]

Battle Breakdown: Sam vs. Clay

[video id: A noivern standing in front of a camera. He hops forwards, double checks something, and then nods. "Finally. It's taken me only half the journey to actually get the camera right the first time. Now if I could only figure out an intro besides just hello, or just make it a running gag." He mutters to himself, and then hops back.

"Hello! Welcome back to Battle Breakdowns! In today's breakdown, my trainer Sam vs. Gym Leader Clay! Featuring Weather effects, abilities, counter strategies, thinking a few moves ahead, and the dangers of too much Texan Drawl. Let's get into the teams."

The trainer card of a brown haired woman wearing what can best be described as a noivern inspired longcoat appears, showing a team of five: Noivern (the same one presenting the video), Goomy, Gabite, Vibrava, and Tyrantrum.

"For those unfamiliar, this is my trainer Sam, accidental specialist and a solid argument for some humans being fighting-type. While my level disparity prevents me from participating in her gym battles, the rest of the team is solid.

Gawain the Goomy, Sap Sipper for his ability, equipped with Scald, Draco Meteor, Sludge Bomb, and Dragon Pulse. Calm nature plus an Assault Vest for high special defense, and enough EVs to be a strong special attacker. Though for this battle we swapped the Assault vest for a sitrus berry, since Clay uses Physical Attackers.

Lancelot the Gabite, a particularly skilled brawler for his species. Focus Sash to give him some more staying power, and allow him to set up with Swords Dance to later punish with Dig, Iron Head, and Dragon Claw.

Bedivere the Vibrava. Still getting used to being a Vibrava. His Levitate ability will be extremely useful here, and while he's lost some of the raw power that he had access to as a Trapinch, but he's still able to pack a punch with Dig, Dragon Tail, Steel Wing, and an ace in the Hole: Superpower. Leftovers, mostly because we can't get him to drop them.

And last but not least, the strongest member of the team aside from myself, and boy does he know it, Percival. Carrying an Expert Belt to take advantage of his wide type coverage and powerful jaws using Thunder, Fire, and Ice Fang alongside crunch. Bit of a brat but undeniably has some of the best pure combat instinct I've seen in years. If not for me he'd be Sam's Ace right now.

Now, let's take a look at the other side. Krokorok, Sandslash, Onix, and Exadrill. A seriously powerful team. Ground types can be tricky to deal with, extremely strong strengths but equally profound weaknesses. Glad Sam's not an electric specialist.

Krokorok is a great lead, able to debuff the opposing lead with Intimidate and then set up the rest of the team with Sandstorm. Crunch and Bulldoze, both with STAB, mean he's a decent threat in his own right.

Sandslash certainly is strong enough on his own right, with excellent attack and defense. Combined with Sand Veil and he's going to be a serious problem in a sandstorm.

Onix is probably the weakest member of the team. While he does boast incredible defenses, his pitiful HP stat means he'll crumble concerningly quickly. That said, Sturdy means he's always going to be able to do something and that's worth being wary of.

Finally, Exadrill. Probably the scariest Ace so far in the gym challenge for most trainers. Fast, tough, powerful, and an utter menace in a sandstorm. The problem being, Clay's team only has one way of making that Sandstorm, so Clay is going to have to finish the fight quickly, since his team's power drops substantially once that Sandstorm is gone.

Clay is a classic weather team. As long as he can maintain control over the environment, he's going to have a serious advantage. If that control slips, either due to another weather setter or simply his opponent running out the clock, he's going to be in trouble. There's a few ways to deal with Weather Teams. One is to bring a weather setter of your own and counter their weather with your own, but unless you're a weather team this can be a waste of a move slot. Another is to adapt to the weather and have plans for how your team can react to different conditions. The third and final way is to stall your opponent out once you've eliminated the weather setter. Normally you need some serious bulk to pull this off, but there are more psychological ways to accomplish this."

The video cuts back to Mordred. "And yes, this is foreshadowing. Let's get into it."

A video of the battle begins to play. Sam and Clay shake hands, and are chatting amicably. "Alright then Ms. Suruga, let's see what y'all can manage! Krokorok, rock and roll!"

"We've got a plan, Gawain let's do this!" Sam retorts, and sends out her Goomy in return. The Krokorok takes a look at the slime dragon, then at Clay.

"Oh fine. Bulldoze instead." Clay relents.

"Hey the slime's not that bad!" Sam snarks. "Gawain, teach em some manners, Scald!"

The two pokemon clash, the Krokorok diving into the arena and dragging a wave of earth forwards to slam the Goomy back, who counters with a surprisingly large gout of boiling water, sending the larger pokemon back burned. Gawain chomps down on a Sitrus berry, as the Krokorok takes a wary stance.

"Heh, whole lot o' spunk in the little feller, I like to see it! Krokrok, start the music an' you can rest a bit. You done good."

"Don't let him get away with that! Scald again!" Sam orders, but too late. A whirlwind of stinging sand fills the arena, forcing Sam to don her flight goggles to keep it out of her eyes. Gawain powers through, and knocks out the other Pokemon. "Well, so much for plan A, come on back Gawain, time for plan B!"

The video pauses. "So, Sam's initial strategy wasn't bad in principle, counter a weather team by KOing the weather setter before they can start the weather. The problem is that unfortunately, Gawain is a Goomy. He's done great so far, but unevolved, his BST isn't high enough. Even a Draco Meteor wouldn't have taken down Krokorok simply due to his poor stats, and he wouldn't have been fast enough anyways, and Clay's smart enough to know to go straight for the Sandstorm in that circumstance. That said, he should have gone for the Crunch, with good damage range that one-shots Gawain. Perks of being slimy I suppose, nobody wants to bite you. So, having failed to prevent the Sandstorm, how can Sam deal with it?"

"Well, Goomy can learn Rain Dance, and so she could have brought that and countered with her own weather. However, Gawain is the only member of the team who uses water moves, and he's not going to sweep. It might seem to just neutralize things, except for one problem: Exadrill. With his Steel/Ground typing, the best tool Sam has to deal with him will be a Fire Fang from Percival or a Superpower from Bedivere. In rain though, the former is severely weakened, leaving one of her two answers to Clay's ace ineffective. So, given she has ways of taking advantage of the sandstorm herself, best to leave it up."

The video resumes, and Sam withdraws Gawain and sends out her Gabite, Lancelot. Clay sends out his Sandslash, and the two immediately rush one another in a flurry of claw strikes, but each withdraws with no damage suffered. "Sand Veil, the ability of both Lancelot and Sandslash, increasing evasion in the already low visibility environments of a sandstorm! Neither pokemon can effectively harm the other!" The announcer remarks.

"We've got plans for that. Sandlash, Hone Claws."

"Just like we practiced Lance. Swords Dance!"

Both pokemon prepare themselves for the next clash, tension rising. "Swords Dance." Mordred remarks. "One of the more infamous moves for a reason. A double increase to Attack results in doubled damage output, treating his Attack as a whopping base 180, even higher given Lancelot's Lonely Nature and EV training, probably closer to between two hundred and two hundred forty. Hone claws is similar, but trades one level of Attack for increased Accuracy, making it the superior option for countering other Sand Veilers. Of course, moves aren't the only way to improve your chances of hitting."

The Sandslash uses Bulldoze, closing rapidly on the Gabite, who stands his ground and takes a stance. "Just like we practiced, we've trained for this. Wait for the right moment and then-" Sam encourages her pokemon, before the Sandslash impacts, hitting Lancelot in the chest. Lancelot takes a step back to keep his footing, and then grabs the Sandslash and throws him over his shoulder. "DRAGON CLAW!" Sam orders, and the Gabite obeys, whirling and delivering a devastating attack that puts the Sandslash down in a single, brutal hit across its exposed belly.

"The intangibles. Technique, strategy, and specific preparation. Training isn't all about stats and moves." Mordred comments. "Showdown and Smogon are good fun, but in a real battle, there are intangible, non-quantifiable metrics that truly make the difference between simply a good trainer, and a truly great one. Sam knew Sand Veil could be a problem, and so, we spent quite a bit of time learning that delayed hit technique to ensure Lance could land that hit."

"Good work Sandy. You done good." Clay encourages his pokemon as he withdraws them. "And as for y'all Ms. Suruga, I must commend you for placing me in an unfortunate position. It has been many a long year since I saw a Gabite that knew how to dance proper. Most are all muscle, no head, but you've got plenty. Good on ya, but I'm not about to go easy just because you've impressed me!"

Clay sends out Onix. "Alright partner, one for all an' all for one. We're in a bit of a pinch so we'll need you to bust us out!"

"Gonna need more than that Clay! Time to put what Dusty taught into practice Lance! Iron Head!" Sam orders confidently, and rightly so as Lancelot engages in a powerful head on collision with the Onix that makes the far larger pokemon shudder from head to tail, but it grits its teeth and holds on.

"Sturdy, same trick as that Focus Sash of yours. Great for setting up, or countering somebody on a rampage. Clear the path, explosion!" Clay remarks. Sam's eyes go wide, as a massive explosion rocks the arena and throws Lancelot back, entirely knocked out. The arena shakes as Onix falls to the ground. Both trainers acquire their wounded pokemon. Sam picks Lancelot up before helping him into his ball, and Clay strokes his Onix's head. "Hate to make you do it that way partner, but you done good." The gym leader remarks before sending Onix back into his ball.

"You done pushed me into a corner Ms. Suruga, but I don't ever back down until I'm done! Houston, it's on you again. Let's turn this around!"

"Sorry, but you are done!" Sam shoots back with good natured confidence. "Bedivere, finish this!" Her Vibrava appears in turn. "Superpower!"

"Don't go getting cocky now Ms. Suruga." Clay replies, entirely calmly. "Houston. Metal Claw."

The Vibrava closes in for the finishing blow, zipping back and forth across the arena, charging for a powerful attack. The exadrill by contrast remains entirely still, until Bedivere closes into range. Then there is a flash, and Bedivere's unconscious body goes flying, momentum carrying him to nearly crash into clay.

Sam stares in seeming shock for a moment, her eyes wide. "What? How?"

"Everybody underestimates how quick a ground type feller can move when they feel like it. Your vibrava's good proof, easy there young feller you're fine. Good try." Clay replies, helping Bedivere back onto his feet and giving him a berry. The vibrava seems very confused, but just remains on the ground, still shaking slightly from the impact of the attack. "Why this one time I-"

The video begins to fast forward. "So, this is plan C, and in this case C stands for "keep Clay talking" The other way to stall out a sandstorm is to stall out their trainer. This isn't difficult to do if your opponent is from a southern region." Mordred comments. "As we do so, explanation of what exactly just happened. Exadrill is actually quite fast for a ground type, Base 88 speed, and I happen to know Houston has a speed boosting nature. Brave, if I recall correctly. Clay plays into the classic stereotypes of ground types being slow, and has him conceal his speed until the right moment to catch his opponents off guard. Another one of those intangibles. As for how it one-shot Bedivere, Exadrill boasts an impressive 135 base Attack, adds STAB to metal claw, and then boosts that damage by another 30 percent in sandstorms during Sand Force, which boosts Ground, Rock, and Steel type attacks. I wasn't kidding when I said Houston is probably the strongest Ace out of the first five trainer battles, and he's arguably the second or third strongest of any Gym leader's Ace. Dreydan's Haxorus is number one, and I haven't personally fought Drey yet to tell on his side, but as the traditional 8th gym badge, I'm going to presume he's rather strong."

The video begins playing at normal speed several minutes after the sandstorm fades. "Anyways." Clay concludes. "It's been fun but-". Sam holds up another pokeball. "I forgot about the Tyrantrum again didn't I?"

"Yup. Thanks for stalling the Sandstorm out though." Sam replies cheerily, before sending out her Tyrantrum, who enters with a bellowing roar. Houston turns around to give his trainer an exasperated expression. Clay shrugs in response.

"I've also still got Gawain, but he'd go down in one hit before he could do anything." Sam admits. "Anyways, back to finishing this. Percival! Fire Fang!"

"Alright alright. Houston, another Metal Claw if'n you please!" Houston rolls his eyes almost as the Tyrantrum charges him, then moves in another blur, landing a silver streak across the larger Pokemon's throat. But Percival continues, raises his tail, and brings it down on the Exadrill as he falls. The mole-like pokemon bounces off the ground once, before he is caught in the Tyrantrum's blazing maw. Percival shakes Houston like a terrier with a rat, before throwing him out onto the floor of the stadium and roaring at his unconscious body. Sam recalls her pokemon, and Clay his. The two shake hands and the match concludes.

"So, what have we learned today?" Mordred comments as the video cuts back to him. "Firstly, what a weather team is, and a few different ways of dealing with them. Counter, adapt, or outlast. Each one depending on your team and your opponent. Second, abilities can be absolutely crucial to any strategy, and building around them can be a recipe for success and unexpected twists. Third, Exadrill is scary. Fourth, don't monologue during battles, and Fifth, make sure that you always have a backup plan, and that your plans don't contradict each other. Sam knew Bedivere might not land that Superpower due to getting outspeed and one-shot, so she made sure that she had another answer for the Exadrill in the form of our local Tyrantrum. Plenty to learn from this one, and it was just fun to watch besides. Anyways, until next time, this has been Battle Breakdowns, I've been Mordred, signing off."

[thebard490]

Battle Breakdowns: The World's Fastest Trapinch

[video id, a Noivern messing with a camera. "Well one of the upsides of putting this together fairly quickly is that I didn't have time to delude myself into thinking some stupid intro looked good on paper." He mutters, before hopping back.

"Hello and welcome back to Battle Breakdowns! I'm your host Mordred, using my years of competitive battle expertise to break down battles sent in both by you and my rookie, well, not quite as much of a rookie anymore, trainer Sam. In this episode, we'll be reviewing her gym battle with Elesa, a battle I didn't find particularly interesting on my first view, but one that still showcases some important strategies and concepts. Let's get into it."

The video cuts to a feed of a battle between Sam, now clad in a long coat. The coat has a purple dragon scale pattern and a large ruff which looks similar to a noivern's mane. She's facing off against Elesa on stage. "So, I'm skipping the usual pre-battle stat comparison because it's not entirely necessary today. What you need to understand is this. Sam is about to take Elessa's four pokemon team, including multiple fully evolved pokemon, to task with nothing but a Trapinch and a Goomy. How's she going to do that? Let's take a look and see what it can teach us about battling."

Sam sends out Bedivere, her Trapinch, and Elesa sends out her Emolga. The video pauses. "So, I'm fairly convinced Elesa is using Emolga entirely as a way of allowing trainers to show off any interesting strategies they develop. Emolga is not a directly strong pokemon. Not that they don't have a place, but in a battle at this level, they really don't keep up if used as a direct brawler. Pretty much the only thing Emolga has going for it is its speed, which isn't exactly spectacular, and a learnset that can make it good at disrupting your opponent's strategy with Light Screen, Nuzzle, and its Static ability, or setting up another pokemon using Baton pass. It can outspeed and knock out other low HP pokemon with a type advantage, but so can other pokemon which are faster, bulkier, and have stronger attacks. Simply put, it's a good support pokemon, but it doesn't brawl."

"For whatever reason, Elesa's is an attacker, and it isn't even running any particularly strong attacking moves. Its best choice is Aerial ace, which with STAB is okay, but Emolga doesn't have the Attack stat to make it more than niche. Which we're about to see vs. Bedivere here. It's something Sam is going to take advantage of."

The video resumes, and Emolga lands an Aerial ace, damaging Trapinch. Sam pulls out an item, and throws it to Bedivere, who scarfs it down swiftly. This action repeats, and after the next hit, Bedivere pulls out a berry and chomps down. Sam then throws a Hyper potion, allowing Bedivere to take a third Aerial ace, and retaliate with a Rock Slide, OHKOing Emolga. The video pauses.

"Now, that was hardly thrilling, but what comes next might surprise you." Mordred notes, and lets the video play. Elesa sends out Ampharos. "Alright. Ampharos, bring them down! Take Down!" Elesa orders.

"Bedivere, dig!" Sam orders in return. The Apharos charges forwards, only to strike a cloud of dust as Bedivere vanishes into the ground faster than the Ampharos can reach them. The Ampharos looks exceedingly confused, before Bedivere emerges from beneath them and lands a powerful bite on their throat, bringing them to the ground and half-burring them before scuttling back at high speed. The video pauses.

"If you're wondering how in the world Ampharos got outsped by a Trapinch of all things, it's simple. Their trainer let them. Let's go back." The video rewinds to the Emolga. "Emolga can do decent damage with an Acrobatics and Flying Gem set, or Thunderbolt and a Magnet, depending on your preference. However, Aerial Ace doesn't do much damage in exchange for being a sure hit. Emolga can't use any electric moves because Bedivere here is a ground-type. So, this is their best option. However, it's not enough to KO them, which let Sam set up using items."

"Now, some trainers think using items isn't good sportsmanship. There are plenty of tournaments which ban using them. However, for a gym battle, they're entirely fair. Which is why Sam gave Bedivere two X-Speeds. Plus another speed boost from his Saha berry. The end result being that Bedivere has now increased his speed by 5 levels. This means that Bedivere is just fast enough to outspeed an Ampharos. Now, why would Sam do this? Well besides being funny, Ampharos is far and away the strongest pokemon on Elesa's team. Excellent special attack, solid overall bulk, they're very well rounded pokemon. But getting hit by a Trapinch's equally mighty attack, with a STAB ground-type move, that will do the trick for putting them down. Sam recognized the biggest threat on the field, and made a plan to counter it using items to produce a truly unexpected maneuver. Because nobody expects the fastest trapinch in Unova."

Elesa stares for a moment, clearly holding back a chuckle at the unexpected sight, and sends out Galvantula. Sam recalls Bedivere as Elesa orders an Energy Ball. Sam sends out a Goomy, who absorbs the attack using Sap Sucker. Mordred narrates as the battle continues. "Now, it might seem insane to switch out when you've got a +5 going, but the simple fact was it's not enough. Bedivere might be the fastest trapinch in unova when that's going, but that's still not that fast, certainly not fast enough to outspeed Galvantula, and an Energy Ball would still be enough to take him down. So Sam looked ahead, memorized her opponent's learnset (entirely fair, you can look up anybody's team and registered set with their BiD), and knew that she was going to lose Bedivere if she didn't switch, and that Gawain would take no damage. You still lose buffs if the pokemon holding them goes down, same as if you swapped them out, you just lose the pokemon too."

As he is speaking, the Galvantula lands an X-Scissor on Gawain, sending him flying, but he retaliates with Draco Meteor, smashing the giant bug into unconsciousness with a single extremely powerful attack. As Elesa sends out her Zebistrika, Sam sends out Bedivere again. Having lost his speed, the trapinch takes a painful stomp from the larger Pokemon, but uses the impact to move itself into the ground with Dig. "Here's another way Elesa misused her Emolga. If she'd saved it for last, she could have swapped it out to negate a ground-type move, especially dig. But without that, her team is vulnerable, and so, they fall."

The ground collapses under the Zebistrika, causing it to lose its footing. As the dust clears the Zebistrika is holding very still, with Bedivere's powerful jaws on its throat. Elesa recalls her pokemon, and Sam picks up Bedivere, only for the trapinch to begin to glow a brilliant white. Sam is toppled by the unexpected weight of a newly evolved Vibrava.

"And so, dear viewers, I do need to rush this one out to congratulate my junior on his excellent performance, and on his evolution. I chose to believe that the realization he could actually move that fast triggered a evolution into a form that could achieve those kinds of speeds without items. But, I hope it has shown you both how not to use an Emolga, and some of the unusual and often hilarious strategies available to you when you begin exploring the power of items. Until next time, I've been Mordred, and this has been Battle Breakdowns."

[thebard490]

Battle Breakdown: Exhibition Match, Mordred vs Leonardo (Scizor)

[Video id: A noivern messing with a camera. He hops back and tries clicking a couple of different buttons, messing with the lighting slightly, checking something offscreen, and then just resetting the lighting. "I'll work on that later. This one's already going to be late" he mutters. "Alright, live in three, two, one. Hello, and welcome to Battle Breakdown! I'm your host, Mordred. In this series I break down battles to help explain the tactics, strategy, and techniques used so you can become a better battler."

"In this episode, we'll be analyzing another one of my matches, mostly because I don't have anyone sending matches in yet. In this case, an exhibition match between myself and Burgh's ace on his champion circuit team. Let's get into the competitors."

An image appears of Mordred, alongside his stats, held item, and moveset. He boasts remarkable speed and decent special attack, but relatively poor attack and defenses. He is holding Bright Powder, and equipped with Psychic, Fly, Dragon Pulse, and Double Team. "So, me, for those unfamiliar, I'm a classic speed type, with a focus on using pseudomoves and my exceptional speed to help confound and outthink my opponents. However, I'm in for a serious challenge this time."

An image appears of a Scizor, alongside their own impressive defense and murderous attack stats. They are holding a Life Orb, and have the ability Technician. They are using Swords Dance, Bullet Punch, Fury Cutter, and Focus Punch. "So this is Leo, Burgh's ace when it comes to fighting trainers who've already completed another region's circuit. Extremely skilled fighter, as evidenced by how he managed to learn Focus Punch, only Scizor I've ever seen with it. I found out after the battle he used to be part of the Ferrum Circuit, which is entirely focused on 1v1s and allows a much broader set of moves. Must have learned it up there. He's really making the most of his Technician ability with a priority move, multi-hit, and then Swords Dance and Life Orb to push those low power moves as far as possible. He's got a clear battle plan and plenty of ways of forcing pressure. The type matchup really isn't in my favor either, resisting everything except my Fly, which his heavy physical defenses and my poor attack makes a poor choice. I won't win a head on fight, but that's fairly normal."

"See, there's many different strategies used by different teams and pokemon, from hyper-offense, pivot, sweep setup, and BIG STALL. However, when it comes to one on one, there are four general types pokemon tend to fall into.

"The first and simplest are the pure power types. These are the ones with the raw power to simply take their opponents on directly and crush them. This includes both your typical physical brawlers like a Garchomp, and can also involve those with exceptional special attack, such as Gardevoir or Alakazam."

"The second type are the technique focused types. These ones don't necessarily have the raw power and bulk of others, but instead make the absolute most of what they do have. Lucario is pretty much the poster boy for this style, and it covers most fighting types."

"The third are tricks focused, myself included. Rather than focusing on direct combat, we focus on preventing our opponent from executing their strategy, and wearing them down using evasion, status effects, and superior tactics. I use Accuracy manipulation for my approach, but others will use confusion, paralysis, sleep, freeze, or burn to hamper the opponent's offense. I'm an example of this, but you'll also commonly see this among Zoroark."

"Finally, the fourth type are focused on attrition, using remarkable bulk and the ability to heal to wear the target down. They might use similar techniques as a tricks fighter, slowing down the target with a status effect, but they tend to favor passive damage approaches like Toxic, Bind, and Leech Seed, while either preventing an opponent from switching out, or punishing them for doing so using Stealth Rock or Toxic Spikes. These guys tend to have bad reputations due to Leech Trappers, but it is a valid strategy for bulky mon who lack traditional offensive abilities."

"So, based on Scizor's stats, you'd expect most of them to be powerhouse types. They're physically bulky and physical powerhouses, with next to no weakness aside from an admittedly major vulnerability to fire. We'd expect him trying to rush me down and clean my clock, keeping pressure high, but ultimately relying on brute force. Let's see what happens."'

A video begins, showing Mordred and Leonardo both facing one another down. The two remain paused for a long moment, before blurring into motion. The scizor closes in, fist cocked back, and Mordred unleashes a Dragon pulse, causing minimal effect. Mordred retreats to try and create space, before Scizor closes the area in a burst of motion and lands a body blow with Bullet Punch. Mordred responds with a blur of motion, evading the next strike with double team, continuing to fall back. Scizor keeps the pressure on, preparing another powerful blow, before being hit with another Dragon Pulse. The video pauses.

"So, this is already a pretty bad situation for me." Mordred admits. "Precisely because of Focus Punch. Let's get into this move in detail. It's a move with an extremely low priority, but immense power. If it lands, it hits just as hard as a hyper beam. With Leo's attack and Life Orb, if he lands it, I'm done. This means I can only try and set up my Double Teams if I know he's not using it, in other words, after he's already socked me with Bullet Punch."

"While I could get lucky and have him miss, bright powder plus one double team drops his chance to hit to 65% on a 100% move. Thanks to his Life Orb, he's dropping 10% of his HP each turn, and each one of his hits has dropped mine by about 25% each time he hits. An X-Scissor will do around 15%. So at the moment, he needs 2 hits to finish me, or one Focus Punch, and has lost probably around 40% of his HP thanks to the Life Orb and my Dragon Pulses. So I need to survive three more hits if I counter every time, or just dodge 6 moves, both of which seem improbable. So, time to get creative."

"Of course, the battlefield, despite being Burgh's, isn't actually that well suited to creativity. It's a solid floor, no substrate to kick up, inside a building, so minimal ability to use outside factors, and in this cocoon, limiting my area to move. However, he does keep his paints up here, so-"

The video resumes, and Mordred uses psychic to fling several of Burgh's paints up and into Scizor's face, blinding him. "Accuracy down by another stage, odds to hit on a 100% move, down to 50% with a 100% accurate move." Scizor goes for another Bullet Punch, and whiffs. Mordred goes for a Fly to punish, but Scizor evades and lands a powerful Bullet Punch, sending Mordred sprawling. The video stops.

"Alright, let's go back and look at this again, slowed down, because this is a seriously impressive trick he just pulled. You can see right here." Mordred says, scrolling back to the exact point where the attack wiffs. "He recognizes he's missed and is already moving to recover. You can see how he turns, moves with the momentum of his strike to keep as much speed as possible, sees me setting up a counter, anticipates it, and then this very light correction here to get himself out of the way, and counter-punch my counter for a guaranteed hit even with my evasion boosted. That's not a powerhouse type fighter, that's honestly masterful technique. There aren't many who are outright better than me in the air, and while I am faster than him, his skill in aerial maneuverability puts me to shame. This is the difference between a Gym Leader's ace and just a normal battle trainer. Quite frankly, I'm getting rinsed. Fortunately, I'm not fighting on my own." The video resumes

"Mordred! Fall back towards the edge, use the strings!" Sam calls out, and Mordred listens. "This is why it's always important to listen to your trainer. In the middle of a fight, you're focused on the fight, and can't necessarily see the full picture. Your trainer can keep a cooler head and help you recognize strategies you wouldn't in the moment." Mordred comments, as his past self falls back and evades another bullet punch. Pink Psychic energy shrouds several strands of the cocoon walls, and pulls them out, catching and entangling the Scizor.

"Now, set it ablaze! He's weak to fire!" Sam calls, and Mordred uses Dragon Pulse on the cocoon walls, creating a massive blast of fire and smoke that sets the Scizor ablaze, falling to the ground and rolling to extinguish itself. The video pauses.

"No matter the arena, there's always something you can use to overcome your weaknesses, and take on an opponent who would be traditionally more powerful, and even more skilled than you are. However, you also need to take into account any hazards from an arena. Such as for example, what tends to happen when you generate a ton of smoke inside a building." Mordred comments, grimacing in anticipation.

The video resumes, and the smoke from Mordred's attack sets off the fire alarm, filling the building with a piercing screeching sound. The bat dragon is clearly overwhelmed by the noise and staggers, unable to move clearly. The Scizor has no such limitation, and closes in, fist gleaming. There is a powerful BOOM that sounds through the arena, shaking the cocoon, and Mordred goes flying, smashing into the ground hard enough to dig a trench through the wooden platform.

"And that my friends is why you respect the focus punch. For anyone wondering, no that didn't hurt, I was unconscious too quickly. When I woke up on the other hand, that hurt like a motherf@#$#@. If you were wondering why this and the last one were a bit delayed, that's why. I'm still kind of sore from that."

"The headache aside, I hope this analysis further showed off the difference between different fighting styles, and some of the approaches one can use to overcome a power disadvantage, as well as the importance of understanding all the elements of your arena, and the consequences of your actions. No action takes place in a vacuum. If nothing else, I'm happy to show off another ace at the top of his game. I'm gonna have to go to Ferrum at some point if they're that skilled at fighting."

"In any case, this has been Battle Breakdowns. This is Mordred, signing off to go get another ice pack."

[thebard490]

Battle Breakdown: Sam vs. Burgh

[video id: A noivern messing with a camera, hopping back, moving forwards to check, and nodding in satisfaction. He stares at something offscreen for a moment. "No, that's a stupid intro. Let's just say hello like a normal person."

"Hello, and welcome back to Battle Breakdowns. I'm your host, Mordred the Noivern. In this series I break down the tactics, strategies, and techniques of battles, to help you learn how to battle better. My last video showcased a fairly high level brawl between myself and Cheren's Braviary, however, in this episode, we'll be breaking down a battle a bit more in line with what a newer trainer might experience, my trainer Sam vs. Gym Leader Burgh of Castelia city!"

"Now, bit of context, Sam is my second trainer, and I got most of my training under my first trainer, Paul, which is also where I learned so much about battling. Sam's still a rookie, but she's got some serious fire and has been working her butt off to develop her skills in battle and train up the rest of the team. Speaking of which, let's meet my juniors!"

An image appears of a Goomy named Gawain, Level 31, with a set consisting of Water Pulse, Dragon Breath, Rain Dance, and Draco Meteor. "This is Gawain, he's the second member of the team, met him tangled up in my mane, long story. Calm nature and strong special attack IVs give him a cool head in fight and some serious firepower for his level, plus that Draco Meteor TM I loaned him. He's probably the best strategist on the team. We've been giving him an Assault vest to boost his special defense into a relative wall for his level, and training HP EVs to compensate for his meager physical defense."

Another image appears, this one of a Trapinch named Bedivere, level 30. "This is Bedivere. He's probably the most straightforwards fighter on the team, move fowards and bite down. That said, as a Trapinch, he's got some of the strongest physical attacks in his weight class, working well with Bulldoze, Dig, Crunch, and Rock Slide. His biggest weakness is going to be getting on target, as he's not very fast or durable at the moment. With a Hardy nature and decent IVs across the board, he doesn't have any exceptional strengths or weaknesses. For the moment, we've given him an Oran berry".

The next team member appears, a Tyrunt, level 30. "This little peacock is Percival. He's convinced he's a Tyrantrum already. He's certainly got some skills, in terms of pure combat instinct, he's a step above the rest of his peers. Thanks to that, he was able to get some powerful TMs fairly early on. Fire Fang, Thunder Fang, and Ice Fang, combined with Rock Slide and his Strong Jaw ability make him the team's most versatile attacker, enhanced further with an Expert Belt. He's got the nature for it too, Adamant, and he shows it. His biggest weakness is honestly his ego. Sam's having to put in work to keep him in line."

An image appears of a Gibble, level 25. "Finally, our newest member, Lancelot. We got him from that huge Gibble outbreak, and still has a way to go to catch up with the rest of the team, hence why he's got the XP share on him. He's underleveled, but can still land a nasty Bite or Bulldoze, and might be able to even the odds with a Sand Attack or paralysis off of Dragon Breath if it comes to it. Now to our opponent."

An image appears, showing Burgh's team of a Dwebble (level 30), Shelmet (Level 31), Karablast (Level 28) and Leavanny (level 33). "This is going to be a decently challenging team. Bug types tend to get written off as weak because of their less impressive first forms, most famously Caterpie. But that's a serious mistake. While the Bug type does tend to have fairly serious weaknesses, especially in their early forms, they can grow to be some of the most versatile and effective pokemon out there. Next episode will be a real showcase of this as I have an exhibition match with Burgh's Scizor. This team has a nice setup of some serious defense (for their weight class) with Dwebble and Shelmet, and the well rounded stat package on Leavany that comes from being fully evolved."

"In terms of expected stategy, Gawain is going to be a Lynchpin for Sam, as his special attacking can help get around the physical defenses of Dwebble and Shelmet. However, he's still slow and fairly frail, she's going to have to protect him. Bedivere has the attack necessary to crunch through that defense, but is similarly slow and vulnerable to commonly known Grass moves, which will be even worse if he takes a hit from Leavany. Let's see how she deals with it."

A video begins of the battle, as a woman with brown hair tied back in a ponytail faces off with Burgh. "I've been waiting to see you come off the stands!" Burgh calls out from across the field. "Show me what you can do!"

"Alright. Let's do this, Gawain, you're on!" Both throw their pokeballs, releasing a Goomy and a Dwebble. Burgh orders rock blast, and Sam orders a Water Pulse. The video pauses.

"Good calls on both their parts." Mordred comments. "Gawain's Water Pulse will hit Dwebble's weak Special Defense for super effective damage, should be a one-shot. On Burgh's part, Rock Blast is Stab and targets Gawain's paltry physical defenses. Based on the damage calculations, four hits from Rock Blast will be enough to KO Gawain, but Rock Blast is 2-5."

Both pokemon exchange blows, a flurry of sharp stones smashing into Gawain, moments before the Goomy braces himself and retaliates with a powerful spout of water that sends Dwebble spinning back before it manages to stabilize and devour a sitrus berry. The video pauses.

"So, Gawain took two hits, minimal damage. However, Dwebble's Sturdy just kicked in, preventing an OHKO, plus, Dwebble definitely outspeeds Gawain, meaning if he stays out, he's in serious trouble. Of course, thanks to that Sitrus Berry, it's going to be trickier for any other pokemon to switch into a hit and then land a KO."

Sam recalls Gawain, and sends out her trapinch, Bedivere instead. Dwebble uses Rock shot, blasting the area around Trapinch, but to relatively little effect. "Good call, Trapinch's resistances let it take a rock shot, and they've certainly got the firepower to break through that shell." Bedivere takes a Struggle Bug from the Dwebble, and counters with a powerful rock slide that knocks it out.

"Nice job. All that time watching's given you a good grasp on theory." Burgh notes as he recalls his Dwebble, and sends out Shellmet instead. "Now keep putting it in practice!"

"Gladly! Bedivere, another Rock Slide would you kindly?" Sam orders, and the trapinch prepares the attack.

"You're not the only one with effective moves. Shelmet, Mega Drain." The shelmet reacts more swiftly, and manages to knock out Trapinch with a powerful surge of green energy that pulses out, wraps around the smaller pokemon, and then pulls back in. Bedivere flops over onto his back dramatically, then passes out.

"Alright, Percy, you're on!" Sam replies, throwing out a Tyrunt. "Rush em down, Fire Fang!" The Tyrunt complies, moving in and biting down on the Shelmet, flame leaking into the shell as the lizardlike pokemon shakes its opponent like a terrier with a rat. "That's enough! He's down!" Sam orders, and Percival obliges by dropping the smoking Shelmet.

The video pauses again. "So this little exchange highlights two major factors that come into play in low level battling. They're important at the higher levels too, but when your pokemon don't have much HP because of their low level, you really need to get these things down."

"First, type effectiveness is huge. With a few exceptions, the offensive output of a young pokemon will grow far faster than their defenses, especially if you take advantage of TMs and Move Tutors. This is amplified even further by combining elements like Type Effectiveness and even more if you have access to offensive abilities or Same Type Attack Bonus. It's fairly easy to one-shot or be one-shot at lower levels due to a lack of HP and strong defensive stats providing you land those x1.5+x2 or x4 bonuses."

"Second, because offense is so powerful, especially when you haven't developed defenses or techniques, speed is extremely important. That clash there went the way it did because Shelmet is faster than Trapinch, and Tyrunt is faster than Shelmet. I'm aware I have a bit of a bias, being a speed-type mon myself, but it is extremely important at lower levels, and remains so at the higher levels as well. You could have a x8 effective move, and it wouldn't matter if you couldn't land it. So have an effective move, and be fast enough to use it, or have a plan to take a hit even with low HP and defenses (such as Sturdy or a Focus Sash)."

"Alright, looks like you're the one to beat then, my little friend." Burgh notes as he sends out a Karrablast. "Make a path! Poison spray!" The smaller bug fires off a powerful mist of purple fog, making Percival roar in frustration, clawing at his eyes.

"Hang in there Percy, take him down with another fire fang!" Sam orders, and Percival complies, coming through the poisoned mist with a roar trailing flames, before delivering a powerful bite that knocks Karrablast out. The video pauses again.

"Fairly standard stuff here, but I do want to bring attention to that move Karrablast just used. Poison Spray, a legitimately great move that sadly isn't learned by many pokemon outside of Paldea because of TM export restrictions. It doesn't do much damage, but it can chip to bypass Focus Sash or Sturdy, while also dropping the target's Special Defense by two stages. On the right pokemon able to capitalize with bulk and high special attack, or on a fast mon paired with a special attacker in doubles or triples, it can set up for some extremely nasty attacks. Don't discount low level moves, even at the higher level. It's not going to be the next Moonblast, but it's got some strategy you can use around it."

"It's always great to see a young artist beginning to bloom. Now show me you can truly blossom!" Burgh laughs, and sends out his ace, a Leavany. "Magical Leaf!"

"Called it!" Sam shouts in joy, already swapping. "Gawain, eat it up!" Goomy deploys, and completely absorbs the incoming Magical Leaf using Sap Sipper. Sam throws him a potion, restoring him to full health. "Alright let's finish this in style! Draco Meteor!"

"Leavany, get clear and punish with struggle bug!" Burgh orders, as Gawain summons a meteor twice his own size and slams it onto the battlefield. For a moment, both trainers hold their breath, before the shards of Struggle Bug slam home onto Gawain, further sapping his strength. The video pauses.

"Yeah, and this is why some trainers hate Draco Meteor. It drops your special attacks twice over and has a long enough lead time that your opponent will get out of the way at least 10% of the time. That said, great read on Sam's part. She knew either a grass-type attack, a special attack, or a grass-type special attack was incoming, and switched out to the pokemon best able to absorb it, and even threw on a heal with the spare time since Gawain had taken some damage. Excellent play. Equally good punish on Burgh's part. Doubling down on crippling Gawain's special attack with Struggle Bug means that now, unless Sam switches out and gives Burgh a free hit, Gawain can't do any damage. However, if there's one thing I've learned and passed on, it's that you don't always need to do damage to win a battle."

"Gawain! Water pulse, focus on slowing her down and soaking the arena!" Sam orders.

"Raphael is a he actually! I know it can be hard to tell though!" Burgh notes from across the room.

"Sorry, focus on slowing him down!"

"It's alright. Take them down and keep your footing, Aerial Ace!"

The Leavany, apparently named Raphael, jumps into the air, and extends a set of wings from under his cloak, zipping through the air towards Gawain. Meanwhile, the Goomy surrounds himself with a bubble of water, seemingly charging it, before Raphael cuts through and knocks him out, becoming soaked through, and covering the floor in water. No damage is sustained.

"So. This looks not great. Why would Sam try a special attack that isn't even effective? Simple! It's not supposed to do damage!" Mordred comments with clear pride in his voice. "Gawain just used a pseudo-move! One reliant on getting hit and having it disrupted! This is why I say he's probably the smartest one on the team. He picked up the idea so quickly, and recognized that he could sacrifice damage to instead coat the enemy in water and slime. Which for those of you who haven't ever met a Goomy, they are sticky as anything, meaning Raphael here just had his speed tanked, plus the water which means..."

The video resumes, as Sam pulls out another Pokeball. "Alright Percival, Gawain set you up! Ice Fang! Freeze the water solid!"

"Oh clever, but too slow! Leaf Blade!" Burgh orders in turn, but it is in fact Raphael who is too slow, restricted by the slime. Percival bites down on the water, turning it into a rushing wave of ice that locks the Leavany in place.

"Alright, he's all yours, finish the job, FIRE FANG!" Sam roars, clearly pumped up, and Percival is as well. With flame trailing behind him, and a mighty TYYYYYYYYYY! He leaps into the air and brings his blazing jaws down hard on the Leavany, smashing them to the ground and KOing them in a single hit.

"NOW THAT'S FUCKING TEAMWORK!" Mordred shouts, clearly extremely proud. "Great work to all of you, and Percival the MVP, Arc he's going to be insufferable later but for now I am so proud of them all!" The noivern is clearly delighted with the younger members of his team. He looks like a proud parent.

"Let that be the last lesson then. With good switching, teamwork, and proper knowledge of the mechanics of your moves and type effectiveness, even an unevolved team can take down a fully evolved ace!" Mordred concludes, still clearly delighted as the video shows Sam quickly reviving her KO'ed team members, and giving all of them hugs before starting as Burgh walks over and coughs. She stands up, quickly apologizing, and wipes off a slime-covered hand and shakes with the gym leader before obtaining her badge. Mordred's face cam sees him clearly beaming.

"Well, I hope this helped trainers new and old to appreciate that there's often still a lot of merit in these lower level battles. For those of you younger, don't consider the time you're training a lower level team up to be something you just have to get through. It's full of all its own kinds of excitement. For those of you further beyond, don't forget that the lower levels still have plenty of potential to be tapped, both in terms of moves, and in terms of their own unique tactics and strategies. Please do remember to send in your own battles, high or low level, for me to analyze, though next time will be one of my own, and it won't be one you want to miss. Until then, this has been Battle Breakdown. I've been Mordred, signing off to go give my juniors another congratulatory hug.

[thebard490]

The Pokemon Cultural Preservation Project: Wild Arceism

The following notes are taken as part of the Pokemon Cultural Preservation Project. With recent advancements in human-pokemon communication, it has become commonly understood that wild pokemon maintain their own cultures, traditions, oral histories, and religions. However, due to a variety of factors, including mass breeding and release programs, increasing numbers of invasive species, and the decreasing numbers of major cultural figures commonly understood by humans as "Alphas" the PCPP exists to document, protect, and promote these cultural practices and traditions for future generations. To both encourage greater understanding between humans, domestic pokemon, and wild pokemon, and to ensure the continuity of cultural practice, the PCPP sets out to interview wild pokemon and collate these findings for a wider audience.

Arceism is a widely practiced religion throughout wild Pokemon communities in Sinnoh and surrounding regions, such as Unova and Kanto, and also has some appearances within the Hoenn region. It appears to be a highly syncretic religion, regularly incorporating other religion's objects of worship as objects of lesser veneration beneath the religion's primary figure: Arceus.

Arceists believe Arceus to be the literal creator of all Pokemon, and that it also created the world, in part with the help of other legendary and mythical pokemon, which the Arceists hold to be "favored children" worthy of some degree of reverence. This appears to be similar to certain practices of ancestor worship or the reverence of saints practiced in some human religions. This also allows Arceism to syncretize with new regions readily, such as practiced in Hoen, where the trio of Kyogre, Groudon, and Rayquaza are each recognized as highly favored children instrumental to Arceus's work. This syncretism is so old that the trio even appear in the Arceist creation myth, leading some scholars to speculate that one religion may be a divergence from the other, though which one is the oldest is hotly debated.

Arceists tend to hold a major focus on the preservation of the natural order, believing that Arceus created the world and each creature in it perfectly, and that by disrupting the natural order, perfection is distorted. This leads to a wide variety of specific traditions, rules, and rituals helping to govern different aspects of life. Many of these hold imminently practical concerns, such as considerations about overhunting or overgrazing in certain areas, whereas others serve more social functions, such as coming of age rituals for newly evolved pokemon.

As part of these traditions, Arceists believe strongly in each individual, species, and even type having a divinely appointed role in maintaining and perfecting the world. These are often referred to as "Arceus's Gifts" and generally follow the idea that each individual should understand their own talents and use them to maximum effect for the benefit of the community. Wider roles are often considered to be assigned to other species, and even types. Some of these ideas can include: Dark types exist as a counter-force to humanity. Earth types exist to help naturally turn the earth and enable nutrient cycling. Psychic types act as oracles to commune with Arceus, Dragon types as protectors of holy places and keepers of sacred knowledge, water types as protectors and administrators of the seas, etc.

Good and evil in Arceism can largely be considered submission to, or rebellion against, the will of Arceus. This is typically understood as the aforementioned general focus on maintaining the natural order and refraining from general cruelty, but in more extreme circumstances, any divergence from norms and rules, particularly in regards to a prescribed role, can be considered as a moral failing. These camps are sometimes referred to as either "Fundamentalist" and "Legalist/Traditionalist" respectively.

Arceists generally do hold the belief that Arceus itself is omnipotent and omniscient, with some arguments about potential omnipresence due to the religion being passed down almost entirely orally. Arceus is also considered universally to be perfectly good and benevolent.

Arceists may or may not consider there to be a counter-idea to Arceus, with some considering Giratina as an "evil counterpoint", whereas in more modern times Ultra Necrozma is considered to be the evil counterpoint. Neither of these beliefs are universal, and many do not consider there to be any sort of "Anti-Arceus", only those which diverge from his will, as the "Anti-Arceus" would imply the existence of a power equal to and opposite to the creator. This would be considered by many to be heresy, as despite some appearances, Arceism remains strictly monotheistic.

Despite these differences, the Arceist sacred stories are remarkably consistent across regions and even across time. This is in part because Arceists tend to place a very heavy focus on the written word. Writing is considered sacred in many Arceist followings, though this can lead to variance. Some groups belief that writing is sacred, and thus promote nearly universal literacy, this being more common in the Unova region. As a result of this belief, the majority of our research has been conducted in this region, as it allows for the simplest transcription and recording. Others believe it is so sacred that only those who are worthy and properly trained in the faith first should read and write, this being most common in Sinnoh. Still others hold that writing is indeed sacred, but reject it entirely, believing it to be the sole province of Arceus, and also humanity, this belief being most common in Hoenn and Kanto.

On the topic of our own species, Arceists tend to hold some of the largest divergences in their responses to humans. Nearly all Arceists hold to the belief that humans are also creations of Arceus, with many holding that humans are somehow favored. However, they diverge greatly as regards the particular importance and role humans were granted, and how well we are accomplishing it.

Those in the Sinnoh region seem to hold views that regard humans as having notably failed in their responsibilities, and even that humans are under some kind of judgement. This branch seems to hold humans as somewhat morally inferior, and are generally hostile to human attempts to capture (or interview) them. This may be due to the major changes brought about due to human expansion in the region since the Hisui period resulting in the localized extinction of many Hisuian form pokemon.

This view has resulted in a schism from beliefs in the nearby Unova region, which instead hold that humans remain the favored children of Arceus, and that their role and responsibility are as managers and leaders for their "older siblings". A number of Arceists interviewed in Unova, when questioned on their divergence, credit the legendary pokemon Reshiram and Zekrom for helping prevent "corruption" of what they claim to be the original beliefs. This may also be due to the prevalence of writing in Unovan Arceist communities.

The divergences in Hoennian and Kanton Arceism, due to the extreme syncretism with the Natural Triad in the former's case, and the prolonged isolationism of the later, merit their own discussion at a later time.

[thebard490]

[Video ID: A noivern is busy using psychic to adjust a camera. He hops back a few steps, as the camera shows the inside of a Luxury ball. He moves over and grabs something from the side, a small device, and begins using psychic to type on it. It begins to play back.

"Test test one-two, one-two. Alright. This thing's working. Audio levels are good. Alright. Script? Got it over there. Let's do this. Lights, camera, action! Hello, I'm Mordred and this is Battle Breakdown. In this series of videos, I'll break down the tactics, strategy, and advanced techniques used by myself and other high level pokemon, to help explain the details of how higher level battling works for both pokemon and their partner trainers. In this first episode, I'll be breaking down one of my own battles, an exhibition match between myself and gym leader Cheren's Braviary. Let's get into it.

A screen appears, showing an image of Mordred, his stats, and his registered moveset (Double Team, Psychic, Dragon Pulse, Fly). "Let's begin with an understanding of both parties. Some older trainers may tell you looking up your opponent's team isn't sporting, because it used to be that way, but when everyone can look up the full details of another trainer with their BID in seconds, it's just become part of higher level strategy. Ah the wonders of technology. In any case, understanding yourself, and your opponent is crucial. In my case, I have the strengths of a top-tier speed and strong mixed attack stats, but my HP isn't the highest and neither is my defense. I'm fast, hit decently hard in multiple ways, but I can't take more than one or two good hits. Let's check out my opponent."

Another image appears, showing a Braviary, its stats, and its moveset of Aerial Ace, Slash, Iron Head, and Hyper Beam. "So, Braviary. Decent bulk due to high HP, unspectacular defenses at best, decent speed but slow for a flying type, especially given this one's nature, but an absolutely brutal physical attack stat. The one thing I might suggest as a change would be to swap Hyper Beam for either Sky Attack, if you want to use it as an opener relying on high HP, Giga Impact, or Brave Bird. Hyper Beam is a great trick to pull when your opponent doesn't know your moveset, but in this day and age those kinds of tricks won't work on experienced pokemon or trainers."

"So" the images are now presented side by side. "Comparing the two of us, while I have a definite speed advantage and am generally more versatile, Braviary is stronger and tougher in most cases. If it comes to a head-on clash, then I'll lose. At least, in most cases. Based purely on our stat sheets, we'd expect the battle to turn into a case of me trying to evade him and bring him down gradually with between two and four Dragon Pulses, while he pursues and tries to land a telling blow with Aerial Ace and Slash. Understanding the likely strategies of both sides is crucial, because then you can subvert them. Let's get into the replay and I'll show you an important technique for pulling that exact kind of stunt."

A recording of a battle begins, taken by Mordred's trainer. Mordred begins by immediately bluring into motion, throwing up a huge cloud of dust which covers the arena. The video pauses. "Now, Sandstorm isn't one of my moves listed, and I can't learn it anyways. But this isn't sandstorm. This is double team. By using it close to the ground when the surface is a fine particulate, like the sand used for most gym battles, or even just basic dirt and grass, I can throw up this huge wall of debris. This not only gives me the benefit of increasing my evasion, but also decreases my opponent's accuracy. This is what is called a "Pseudo-move" since it uses a single move to produce a different effect than normal. These are entirely legal, and always have been (a lot of fighting-type moves originally were pseudos. They're just not commonly used since they tend to have a drawback.

In the case of this one, it would also decrease my accuracy, if I relied on my eyes that is. This demonstrates one of the first principles of Pseudo-Moves. You should understand their drawbacks, and develop your techniques in a way where you can avoid those drawbacks using the gifts unique to your species.

So, my accuracy is fine, my evasion is up one stage, and his accuracy is down one stage. What's he going to do? Well naturally use the move which bypasses accuracy altogether: Aerial Ace, his weakest move. Which, yeah it still hurts, but I can take it, and better than getting hit with Slash or Hyper Beam.

The recording continues, and Braviary indeed uses Aerial Ace, closing on Mordred and landing a fairly impressive attack that sends the Noivern staggering back. Then, a rock tears itself out of the ground, surrounded by the pink aura of Psychic. It smashes into Braviary's back, knocking them to the ground. The video pauses again.

"This is a second, important use of Pseudo-Moves. Cleverly used, you can change the type of damage you inflict. By using this rock instead of directly targeting him with Psychic, I was able to hit him with a super-effective move and Flinch him. Of course, the damage would be fairly pathetic and the accuracy a lot worse if he wasn't both a flying type and currently half-blind. This is another lesson in how to use Pseudo-Moves, tailor them to your opponent and use setups to compensate for their drawbacks."

The video resumes. Mordred closes in on the downed Braviary, armoring the edges of his wings with psychic, and begins striking the Braviary with the reinforced wings. The Braviary tries to counter with Slash, but it misses, and Mordred lands a fairly serious hit to his opponent's neck.

"Now, there are three things going on here. Two are good, one less so. First things first, I'm using yet another Pseudo-move, using Psychic to create an energy shield around by wings to hit harder. This one has some of the fewest drawbacks when performed correctly, and is even a signature technique of Gallades, and Lucario will do something similar with aura. However, while it's very effective if performed correctly, it is extremely dangerous to use this technique without proper training. You can seriously hurt yourself trying this in battle without practice. If you want to try this, get a Gallade to teach you, and make sure to use the same motions you'd use for a physical attack you normally know. In my case, I'm imitating Wing Attack."

"The second thing that is good is that I've closed into melee. Now, shouldn't this be a bad idea on my part? Based on our stats and movesets, yes. Which is exactly why I've created a situation were doing it is useful. Coming into this, we'd have expected a game of cat and mouse, because in a head to head mid-air battle, he'd clean my clock. However, on the ground, and in a dust storm, the situation's reversed. He's half blind, I'm moving faster, and my body is better suited to moving on the ground rather than his, which is entirely specialized for the air. This situation reverses what you'd expect purely based on moves and stats, and thus completely throws him off his game, leading to the third thing."

"Since he's off his game and should be in his element right now, he's reacting, not acting. Rather than trying to out-manuever me, he's accepting the close-range battle, since he should be superior there. This leads into the most important lesson of all battling, and one that I admit I have a hard time with, even with my years of experience. Never let your ego get the better of you."

"We have all been given unique gifts by Arceus, both in terms of our species, and each one of us as individuals. But if we come to believe the way we have been gifted is superior to everyone else, we'll make fools of ourselves at best, being surpassed by things we never expected, or failing to learn from our brothers and sisters, or even from our human partners."

The video resumes. Cheren calls a command. "Braviary, fall back and use Hyper Beam!" The video pauses.

"This is a good call. Cheren correctly identified how both me and his pokemon were doing. I can take another Aerial Ace, and possibly even a Slash. But Braviary, despite his higher starting HP, has been brought down enough that I can finish him with nearly any hit. However, if he lands Hyper Beam, I'm done. Besides that, it's a ranged attack, letting him fall back above the dust cloud to increase his accuracy."

The video resumes. Braviary retreats above the dust cloud, charges a hyper beam, and fires down. There's a huge flash as the brilliant beam smashes down onto what appears to be Mordred. But then it passes through, hitting an afterimage. The real Mordred retaliates with a Dragon Pulse, knocking Braviary out of the sky and sending him plummeting to the ground. "Thank Arceus for Double Team. And much as I have talked up Pseudo-Moves during this video, don't forget just using a move normally will pretty much always do more damage and be more accurate. Pseudos are for specific situations where a head-on clash isn't something you want to risk."

"Strictly speaking, Braviary was stronger than me. He was better specialized, tougher, and had plenty of options to end that fight. However, through superior technique and tactics, I kept him from using those options effectively, and was able to wear him down. Any pokemon, even the strongest, can be beaten if you come at it with the right game plan, determination, and a whole mountain of hard work. And even when you do lose, pick yourself up, examine the match, figure out what you could do better and what your opponent did well. You're only ever truly defeated when you refuse to keep growing."

"That's all for this episode. Feel free to send in any of your own battles you found interesting and I'll give them a look over. If it turns out to be interesting or highlight an important lesson, it might show up here. In any case, this has been Battle Breakdown, I've been and still am Mordred, signing off!"

video ends]

[thebard490]

Paladins Chapter 17: Hearthfire

            I am The Bard, who has seen The Story echoed over and over anew. Chaos rises, and the goodly creatures of the world banish it for a time, each again and again until night falls, then dawn breaks anew. Thus it has been since the days of old, when creation was young but no longer very good, so it shall be until the last verse is graven.

As the exhausted and bloodied band of crusaders flopped down in the nearest beds they could find, occupied by a giant warming pad called Kazador or otherwise, they were swiftly claimed by the quiet net of sleep.

This night, they all dreamt, and all dreamt the same dream. Again, they stood outside, but this time atop the walls of the abbey, now blazing with fire like the light of the sun, but the fire did not burn them. From atop the walls they looked out into endless and dark night, dark without stars or moon to light it. In the forest past the edge of the fire’s light they all saw clearly the writhing, strangling infection. All now saw the dark vines, even Julian, pulsing with ebon ichor upon the land, upon the trees. Yndri saw a stag running in the night, agile even through no less tangled than the flora in the creeping curse. Then, they sensed a presence beside them.

Senket saw the Tiefling ghost, blazing in brilliance besides her, and he turned to the abbey and raised a bright finger at it. “Seek us. Seek that which has fallen. Seek the story unforgotten. Echo of what once was, take up our sword once more.” He commanded.

Kazador looked to the west and saw a stone dragon lying broken on the shore, barnacles upon its tail, smokeless fire in its breath, and a sword of mithril rippled liked the waves, in its claws. Fire burned so very dimly around the blade, and he heard many voices, male and female, speaking in the tongues of men, in the tongues of dragons, in the tongues of dwarves, and in the tongues of angels. “Lord of Order, restore what was lost.”

Yndri looked to the north and to the east, and saw trees hung in spiderwebs. Amidst the trees stood a statue of an elven woman, pale as marble. Her arm fell off as she reached for Yndri, and the statue called to her “Wandering Wind, let the gates be opened once more.” As she watched, shadow spread across the statue, marble regressing to insidious obsidian, save the hair. Two pairs of amethyst eyes stared into one another, as the statue spoke words in a language Yndri did not know. Yet still she understood the pleading, as for a mother for her estranged daughter to return. Before any more words could come, silver spiderwebs cracked across the statue and strangled it to dust.

Peregrin looked into the dark and saw many tiny lights, like fireflies in tar, scattered out across it. Across the north, across the east, and all about his feet. “Sword of Light and Shadow.” The voice of a halfling woman commanded him “Let the light of the small be lit once more. Let light shine forth and bring the wanderers home.”

Julian looked into the dark and heard no voices, saw no visions at first, until he felt himself drawn far from the walls into the north. There, where the old road and the mighty river met in the ruins of a once great city he heard a voice. “Godless and without inheritance. Son of heaven scorned for the mother’s sins.” A woman’s voice, great and terrible, rang about him. “What shall you fight for here? You have no gods to fight for and will find no gods here.” It warned, but the paladin did not quail.

“No, you have no time for the dalliances of divinity, do you?” she asked with a chuckle, knowing the answer. “Only that your will shall be done, and the world redeemed by the hands of a man. Such folly, to think that you, a man, shall do what no god can? Come then, seek beyond gods, to the fire that cannot go out, so that the worm must die. Seek that which is anathema, if thou dares to choose a destiny for oneself.” She challenged him, as the black vines burned with the sulfuric smell of brimstone.

The party awoke with minds burning, and in Kazador’s case, a blanket of halflings. He pushed off the several smallfolk who decided the warm dragonborn was a good place to sleep, rumbling and grumbling with enough ornery morning grumpiness to rival War Pig.

“Ah’m gonna have tae tell Peregrin tae ware his folk against using me as a pillow.” He grumbled as he pulled on his armor and belted on his axes.

“Kaz, you are the first man I have ever known to complain about having too many companions in bed.” Senket remarked dryly as she pulled on her tunic and donned her armor. The dragonborn turned slightly more red than usual.

“Speaking of the little fellow, where is Peregrin?” Julian asked as he walked out of the privy, still wearing his helmet out of habit.

Yndri walked in, fully dressed and ready to go. “Julian, do you really need the helmet?” She asked. “Strange habits aside, Peregrin sent me to come and get you. Breakfast is ready.”

Julian took off the helmet and put it by his bunk. Fully aware of the stares the halflings were giving him, he pulled out his spellbook. “I’ll be down in a few minutes.” He said slightly self-consciously.

“Fine, more scoff fer me.” Kazador rumbled as he heads out.

As Julian studied his spellbook. He was surprised to find a new page in the book, not simply leafed in, but completely new, as though it had been made with it. The paper was of high quality, and furthermore the spell was not written in his draconic engravings he preferred, nor in the diabolic script his mother used, but in a fine hand of sacred runes, as used by priests and angels. He frowned as he considered this, and quickly identified the spell as one to call forth a familiar. Even stranger, to find arcane magic written in a script most commonly used for divine rituals. He set the mystery aside for the moment.

Down in the kitchen, Peregrin had been up for a while alongside Yndri, putting the abbey’s food stores to good use. A wide collection of grains, flours, and premade loaves made life far easier, and furthermore the abbey possessed many looted spices and sugars. Best of all though was when he discovered a coop of irritable but bountiful hens, and therefore a small hoard of eggs. With this bounty, the paladins, halflings, and goblins were treated to their first hot breakfast in quite some time, hot steaming bowls of porridge, scrambled eggs, and toast. Simple, but exceedingly satisfying.

Kazador examined the workmanship on the bowls and spoons. They were all identical, indicating that they were either created using magic, or perhaps a gnomish invention such as an auto-forge. They were simple, but all of rather high quality, clearly not goblin make, and thus were either stolen or perhaps simply were used by the abbey’s original inhabitants. As they ate, Peregrin and Yndri joined the pair in the scoff. “You know, we still need to find this place’s name.” Yndri said between bites. “I say we wander about and see if we can’t find any old records of it.”

“Julian, Peregrin, you two are the most well read and well-traveled among us, have you ever heard of this place?” Senket probed the more intellectual pair.

“My studies were mostly large-scale history and the arcane. I’m afraid I’ve heard no mention of this place’s name in my books. The Northern Garden have been abandoned by all civilized races but the hobgoblins for three centuries or so, and it wasn’t exactly a densely populated area even at the best of times. So, its “history” seems all too much tied up in legends and myths rather than solid facts.” Julian said, sounding slightly disappointed.

“I’ve heard stories that supposedly came out of here.” Peregrin said. “And heard a few more from my kin here. However, it’s sort of garbled. Either there’s been a whole lot of times where this place has been invaded and a hero rises to deal with the problem, or it happened once, and everyone kept switching around who the hero was and what the problem was.” He said with a bit of a shrug. “It’s probably a bit of both if I’ve had to guess, my folk will tell a story a thousand times and never the same way twice depending on what we want to get across as a point. I get the feeling that we’re going to be part of one of those stories again.”

“We are nae allowing a bard to come an’ follow us around getting intae trouble. Nae way. Ah am nae keepin me eye on some frilly lute lover.” Kazador rumbled aggressively. Not to worry my friend, I was here the whole time, and you had never needed to keep an eye. Not that you could have seen me after all. The eyes of a king are wise indeed, but one doesn’t get to record these kinds of stories without a certain kind of cleverness,

“Don’t you dwarves have a long history of using songs to keep pace when you mine and march?” Yndri questioned.

“Aye, we chant the old histories and remember the old grudges. It’s nae bard-song though, we tell it like it happened, nae frilly turned o’ phrase or unnecessary elven maids tae rescue an’ bed. Our women can deal fer themselves.” He grumbled.

“I’m afraid we are probably going to wind up in a story one way or another, a whole bunch of paladins on a merry crusade to retake lost lands? It’s practically storybook.” Peregrin chuckled.

“Hm, sort of like that epic about the lizardfolk, out of Muab, Rising Dawn was it? With that… oh what was his name, Matlal?” Julian considered. “Strange habit bards have of slapping names on parties. And why are they always called parties to begin with?”

“Tradition, I suppose.” Senket muttered into her coffee. “I suppose they’ll slap one on us as well. Probably something silly like the Stardust Crusaders or something.”

“I think that’s already a thing, a bunch of monks in Mercat if I recall correctly.” Yndri pointed out. “I suppose if we want to avoid something silly, we might as well come up with something of our own.”

“Bah.” Kazador said as he wiped his mouth and picked up his dishes. “We’ll work it out when we’ve got time. Let’s get this bloody place cleaned out first then deal with this wee bit o’ nonsense.” With the name discussion left behind for the moment, the party split off and began to wander the abbey in search of any clues as to its history and identity.

Senket headed to the walls and the gatehouse, finding the place where she stood in the dream. Scouring the top of the wall, she did find something unusual. Covered by a layer of sandy dust, she brushed clear a section just where the Tiefling was standing to find a small brooch in the shape of a sun, carved from what looked like silver, set into the stone. With a small bit of effort, she managed to pry it free from its engraving to examine it more closely and realized that it was in fact a medallion. The medallion was far too sturdy to simply be made of silver, but it lacked any hum of magic about it. No words were carved on front or back to identify the owner, but it was very clearly placed in this stone and hidden by dust for a purpose.

Peregrin headed outside and wandered through the orchard, between the thick glades of apple trees, ripe with fruit. He saw a clear progression of ages, indicating that each tree was planted several years apart. He followed this to the youngest tree, which even still was a rather old fellow, though nothing before the ancient and massive sort at the other end.

He searched around the tree, trying to find out why they were planted at such seemingly random intervals, hoping to find some hint, until his bare foot stepped on something cold at the base of the youngest tree. He turned to investigate. Brushing aside the dust, he gasped as he found that what he stepped on was a plaque set into a small stone at the base of the tree. It read, in common and a language he didn't recognize; “Abbot Thibb, A good and generous man even in the harshest time. Claimed by the great plague, he provides even in death. Rest in peace.”

Peregrin rushed to the next tree, and found a similar plaque, the resting place of an abbess. He rushed to another, and then another. He swiftly realized that this orchard was not merely a supply of food inside the walls but was in fact the final resting place for the leaders of the abbey. Each abbot and abbess lying peacefully beneath a fruit tree, their body providing nourishment for a new life that shall in turn nourish others. From the general dates of life and death, he was able to find this abbey had stood a remarkably long time, nearly seven hundred years. It predated the hobgoblin empire, and had survived throughout it, and then for almost a hundred years after its fall.

Kazador headed down, following a staircase from the great hall into the comfortable underground. Inside, he found a long table covered in reports with thirteen chairs. The paper and quills still lying there seemed to be various reports, and it seemed this room was where the legate held conferences. The entire room was made of the same warm sandstone as the walls and main building but was generally comfortable and cozy.

On the far side of the room was another door, and next to it a grand tapestry that covers the entire wall. It was a massive cloth edifice showing Tamur’s conquest of the other goblin gods, and his many wars against the other gods.

Kazador was obviously displeased at the existence of such a tapestry and walked over to it. After confirming that there was nothing else flammable nearby, he sucked in a breath and bathed the remarkable piece of pagan artwork in fire. He smiled slightly smugly to himself, thinking that if they wanted to keep their art, they should have made it a bit more permanent. He turned to investigate the other door, when, out of the corner of his eye he saw the flaming tapestry was in fact hiding something. He turned and chuckled slightly, as it seemed the original designers of the abbey had the same ideas on art as him.

Hidden behind the tapestry, which was presumably hung to hide this, was a massive stone carving into the wall itself. This was clearly dwarven work, as only they could paint such a picture in solid sandstone. The carving depicted the building of the abbey, by dwarves and humans working together, under the watchful eyes of a stout looking dwarf lord and a human wearing a mighty sword. As the scene progressed, the human and the dwarf defend the abbey from a horde of various monstrous races. Goblins, Orcs, Gnolls, and creatures more obscure and profane that Kazador could recognize rush in a great swarm against the pair, only to be flanked by an elf from the woods and a dragonborn riding on the river. He stared very closely at the dragonborn in the picture, it appeared to be descended from one of the aquatic dragons, perhaps a gold or bronze one. Most curious of all though was their sword, which rippled like water and was wreathed in flame.

At the far end was the most recent work, looking to be perhaps two hundred years younger than the original piece, showing the human from before, standing with sword in hand in front of a multitude of different humanoids of all races, all standing behind with the same sword in their hands and the same determined stare in their eyes.

It is a truly beautiful piece, although it did contain an imperfection, one only a dwarf or one raised by them might notice. In the final panel, the first hero’s sword was missing the center of its crossguard. Rather than being carved outwards like the rest, it was carved inwards, digging into the wall rather than out of it. Examining the sword’s depiction with the other heroes, the crossguard would appear to have a small symbol of the seven for its center. Kazador smelled a hidden door, and to confirm his suspicions, he quickly departed, moving to go find the one other party member with the senses to detect it.

Yndri was exploring the main building, finding mostly dormitories and other such rooms, but she was pleasantly surprised to find a large suite of rooms that appeared to be a hospital. These rooms were immaculately clean, even by the hobgoblin’s own obsessive standards. The beds are laid with fresh linens, and the room was light and airy with several large windows.

Further examination discovered what looked to be an alchemy lab, with a small stock of potions, names labeled in goblin. Since she could not read them, she left them until she could find Peregrin or Jort. In the next room over was a single bed with straps to bind the occupant down. Many cruel looking sharp implements hung on the walls. It was uncertain whether this was a torture chamber or an operating room. However, considering it was run by hobgoblins, probably both. She turned from the room, which even when cleaned still stank of blood, when she heard Kazador calling for her and headed over to him. After the situation was explained, she headed down to the carven hall and examined it. After several long minutes of study, she confirmed his suspicions. There was indeed a cleverly hidden secret door here.

Julian followed Jort, while also looking like he was conducting his own search. Despite the young paladin’s aid in defeating Pompey, he was still somewhat suspicious of the treacherous blue-nose. Eventually the pair arrived at the Legate’s suite and began to search through it, finding mostly situation reports.

In searching his bedroom, they found the leader’s war chest, a large padlocked and sturdy oaken box. A solid strike from the nephilim opened it, revealing a substantial amount of gold, silver, and copper, as well as several precious stones and golden images. It was probably enough wealth to purchase half a small village, but Julian was somewhat unconcerned with it, what were they going to spend it on?

Despite this, they left it alone for now, and continued to search the room. Julian raised an eyebrow when he spotted a book poking out from under the pillows of the large bed. He snorted derisively when he discovered it was the rather popular “How to Pick Up Fair Maidens.” He considered just tossing it back down on the bed, but instead, after making sure Jort wasn't looking, slipped it inside his bag for later reading. Books are books after all, and he’d needed something new to read for some time.

He was then incredibly pleased when the next room they searched was filled to the absolute brim with books and scrolls. Jort was certain this was the happiest he’d ever seen the Nephilim as he carefully began to look through. Julian’s grin grew even wider when he realized what they’d just stumbled across. Volumes upon volumes of recordings, mostly in the form of clearly dated journals from the abbey recorders across history. The newer books were written in the common tongue, but as he also scanned several of the older ones, other languages appeared. It seemed angelic was popular at the beginning of the abbey, several were written entirely in dwarvish, and an entire tome, larger than all the rest, was written entirely in draconic. The writings on that seemed to have been written by what looked suspiciously more like a claw dipped in ink than a quill.

As he dug in with sheer glee, Julian at last discovered the true name of the abbey in the recordings of one Methuselah; “7.16.[illegible], Little has occurred of note this day, save that I have discovered the etymology behind our fair Hearthfire’s name. It seems that there is indeed magic [illegible] as I discovered in an ancient, almost crumbling letter from our founder [Illegible] to lord [dwarven runes, mostly illegible]. “This place shall have the warmth of the kindly sun in it, a [faded and illegible] goodly people I build it for, for this age and the ages yet to come.” So, that is why it is Hearthfire. I am very pleased to have discovered this, though I fear the paper shall soon become entirely destroyed by age.”

”Hearthfire then.” Julian mused as he looked at the old book, it itself now almost as ruined by the wastes of time as that letter this ancient Methuselah had found. “Fate smirks at least.” He muttered as he put it down. There was too much here for him to throw himself into for the moment, so he selected the youngest of the books and headed to find the others. As noontime rose, the group re-assembled in the hall for a meal and to discuss their findings. At Kazador and Yndri’s report, Senket’s eyebrows jumped.

“Would this perhaps be what was missing?” She said, producing the medallion. Kazador examined it, and his eyes went wide. “By the maker’s beard.” He invoked. “This is Mithril.” He said as he examined the small medallion carefully, seeming unable or unwilling to let it go.

The paladins looked at one another excitedly. They all knew the incredible value of that particular metal, and while they were not greedy, the existence of such a token indicated that this was once an incredibly prosperous place.

“More dwarf work tae boot. Ah keep findin signs o’ me kin but nae a place where they’d call home.” The dragonborn said, actually sounding worried for the first time.

“Still, that’s definitely the key.” Yndri agreed as she looked at the craftsmanship.

“But the key to what I wonder?” Peregrin said, his natural curiosity piqued. “Underground and hidden behind a secret door, whatever it was they really didn’t want it disturbed.”

“Considering I found it where the ghost was, maybe it’s his tomb.” Senket offered.

“I’m not sure, I found where they buried all their abbots, why would they go through so much trouble to hide anyone else? Unless there was some kind of super-abbot.” Peregrin said, trying to consider what a super-abbot would do with his time.

“Whatever it is, it should prove useful, though I think I may have found the most valuable point of all.” Julian said proudly as he produced his book (the history one, not the dating one). “There’s maybe a score or two more of these, the whole history of the abbey once I get time to go through it.”

Kazador rumbled something under his breath about the inferiority of paper to stone, but Julian ignored him and opened the book. “Now, let’s see what happened here.” He mused as he began to flick through the pages until he found where they stopped and the book went blank, and then turned back several pages and his eyes flicked across the paper. He read through the last days of the abbey quickly, flicking the pages over seemingly every minute, totally oblivious to the outside world. Even when Senket placed an empty mug on his head to test, he still didn't notice.

“I’ve seen men look at their gods and at their wives with less love than that.” Peregrin whistled, honestly impressed by the scholarly warrior’s focus.

As Julian read, his face grew sourer and darker as he came to the end and sighed, face grave. “It seems the inhabitants of this place were wiped out by a plague.” He said, though his eyes said that what he read there was far more than that. He shifted slightly, and the mug fell from his head, caught by Jort, who threw it back to Sen. “It struck the land without warning, wiping out almost all major settlements, spreading like wildfire through anything larger than a halfling village. The people here took in the sick, tried to help them. All they did was let the sickness in.”

The account had been harrowing, the recorder steadily growing more and more frantic as more and more died, and then as he had felt the symptoms take hold. It seemed he had tried to keep writing, but collapsed, as the last page had nothing but gibberish, ending with a letter that collapsed into a long scrawl across the page.

“It got worse.” he said, deciding to reveal this last horror. “The symptoms were this. Their bodies wasted away, like the life was drunk out of them. Their blood turned black, and their veins thickened, until they were, and I quote:

“Like vines digging through skin, wherever the light was weakest.”

A chill ran down the party’s spines as they remembered that creeping curse in the dark, and their vision of the strangled land beneath the coils of endless black vines, pulsing darkly like blood vessels.

“None of us are sick though, and neither were the goblins or the halflings.” Senket raised.

“We can’t get sick.” Peregrin reminded her. “And the halflings and goblins are probably the descendants of survivors who developed an immunity.”

“Wait, you can’t get sick?” Jort asked.

“We can’t.” Julian replied, including the younger hobgoblin in that we. “The magic we passively channel keeps us from succumbing to any illness. It’s the same reason why we’re faster, stronger, and heal more quickly.”

“The colonists won’t have that though. Weren’t they sick when we left?” Yndri realized, and the party began to understand why every colonization effort before had failed.

”Damn!” Kazador cursed, blowing smoke from his nostrils. “Julian, that book, did they ken even the beginin’s of a cure?” He demanded.

“Not even close, they sent out people searching but those never came back.” Julian said grimly. “We’re on our own.”

“No, we’re not.” Senket said. “The ghosts, the visions. We all saw our own, didn’t we?” The party nodded. “They must have found something, and now it’s up to us to follow through. This is our quest, to finish the job and save this land. We shall not fail.” She stated, her faith becoming ironclad as the pieces fell together. That same determination spread across the party as fervor and zealotry banished fear and replaced it with the invincible resolve of heroes.

“The ghost bade me to seek where he rests.” Senket said as she stared at the mithril medallion. “I think I might know just where that is.”

[thebard490]

Paladins Chapter 16: We Who Bear Swords

            I am the Bard, who has seen princes set up and torn down. Rarely are they utterly extinguished, until all nobility has been forgotten.

For several long weeks the paladins had traveled the Northern Garden and now the time had come to at last assault Bloodstone Abbey, the seat of power for the local Hobgoblin legion. They had stripped away their defenses, slain or recruited half their forces, including the elite cleric Numa and the Primus Pilus Scythia, and now the time had come to break the abbey and destroy the Legate, Pompey.

Julian laid out the plan. First, the Paladins and archers would approach the abbey from the woods by night and remove the sentries with ranged attacks. Second, the Paladins would climb the walls and move to the back door of the gatehouse. Next, Jort and the goblins they had won to their side would run for the gate with the halflings on their tail to try to trick them into opening it. After the gate opened, the party would breach the gatehouse from behind to keep the gate open and allow them to move in their full force.

Once the force was inside, they would send in the goblins to the camp to try to turn as many as they can before launching a lightning assault to wipe out the surviving loyalists. This would leave them in control of everywhere but the abbey itself. From here, they would assemble to catch any attempt at escape and use their superior numbers to keep them inside while Julian used his wings to fly to the top and let down a rope, allowing the Paladins to get inside and attack the legate. Once the legate and the command staff were dead, the party would proceed downwards while their forces pressured the entrances, hitting the enemy from both sides and forcing them to surrender. It was, in theory, a good plan, a clever plan, perhaps even a merciful plan compared with their original idea of just filling the lake with poison, but it was a plan with one major flaw. It assumed the party could kill the Legate.

It was night, three nights since the battle of the Turning Sword, where Jort revealed his colors and together with the traitor goblins helped the party shatter half the legion. Three nights of preparation, planning, drilling, and training. Three nights of constant work for Kazador, reforging not only the Pilus’s plate but also a substantial amount of hobgoblin armor to fit the halflings. Jok himself now wore the bronze that once rung from the tower in the abbey in ages past. Tonight, it would ring again.

Concealed in the shadows all around the fortress were Yndri and her archers. Unbeknownst to any, tonight their arrows were not the same. Tonight, she had gifted them an assurance of killing. In the dark between the days, Yndri had slipped out of the village, and in the woods gathered nightshade, death nettle, toxic mushrooms, and other such poisons. She had ground them together into a potent natural venom and coated her charge’s arrows in them, cautioning them not to scratch themselves and swearing them to secrecy. They must not fail, even if it might offend Senket’s sensibilities.

Julian readied his crossbow, and Peregrin his sling. Kazador had taken a set of javelins from the fallen goblins and now hefted one. The sentries walked the walls, silhouettes clear in the full moon and stars, and Yndri readied a special whistling arrow tuned to play the song of a nightingale to sound the beginning of the assault. Bows were drawn, target set, breaths taken… And the nightingale sang.

Black shadows on the dark blue sky, a score and more of silver strings slipping through the air to their target. Several flew wide, but there were enough arrows to land stinging blows, and enough of those for the poison to do its work. Yndri was in fact the last to fire as she had to swap her whistle arrow for a normal one. She silently cursed the songbird, having not thought that an actual nightingale might tamper with her plans.

Still, it was to her benefit this time, as one hobgoblin remained standing, he opened his mouth to shout a warning, but it would never be sent. Two arrowheads lodged in his lungs, and the wind that would have warned his comrades of the danger was stolen from him. He gasped a few times, struggling to fill deflating lungs, and then sank to his knees. It would be a few seconds more before he died, perhaps a minute if he was particularly strong, but his last words had been spoken, and he would die drowning in his own blood.

With that near disaster averted, the second part of the plan began as the party rushed forwards to the base of the wall. While the twenty-foot cliff of solid sandstone was too sheer for even agile Yndri and Peregrin to climb, it was not so tall that a paladin ladder could not reach it. Kazador was at the bottom, followed by Julian, then Sen.

”Careful where you place your eyes.” Yndri warned the dragonoid as she clambered up.

”If yer at all symmetrical, ah might as well be lookin’ at an anvil even if ah did look up.” The dragonoid grumbled at the elf. “Now hurry up ya bloody prude, plate armor is heavy!”

With the two lightest members up, they were able to brace themselves against the crenulations, and while they don’t exactly pull Senket up, she didn't pull them down hauling herself up. She then turned and helped Julian. Kazador backed up, and took a running leap, but wasn't able to reach their outstretched hands. It seemed this dragon could not fly very well. Julian began mentally cursing himself for not being on the bottom since he could fly, but Yndri instead got out some rope and tossed it down. “We really should have thought of this sooner.” She said as she helped haul the heavy dragonoid up.

“Alternatively, we could have used Sen’s tail if we didn’t have any rope.” Julian commented dryly as he gestured at the unusually long and thick appendage.

“Try it and I’ll turn you into chicken dinner bird boy.” She responded. Peregrin curiously picked her tail up and got slapped in the face with it for his trouble.

“Let’s just deal with the hobgoblins and not waste any more time ogling the freak, shall we?” Senket grumbled irritably as she took up her position near the edge of the gatehouse and waited for Jort.

Sure enough, there he came right on schedule alongside a whole parade of goblins behind him and some particularly angry looking halflings after him. “Open the gate! Open the gate for the god’s sakes!” He shouted, and apparently it was believable, as the gate started to creak open. “Now!” Kazador hissed and the paladins moved out.

Guarded by such high walls and with a half-score men supposed to be walking atop them to view the surrounding woods, the hobgoblins in the gate house never expected to be attacked from the other side of the walls. As such, though the door was sturdy and there was a bar and lock available, it was not being used.

Kazador led the way, surprisingly quiet for his size, and one of the hobs guarding it had a moment to shout a warning to the others and draw his blade before the massive dragonoid was upon him. A whirlwind of axes split him into several pieces before he could even scream. At the gate, the leader of the commander turned from the breathless Jort to heed his comrade’s shout. He went stiff as a blade stabbed him through the back to the front, a hobgoblin blade. He was alive just long enough to know that he was betrayed.

The last of the three saw he had no chance against Kazador, and unafraid of being called a coward he flew past, ducking under his strike and pushing every ounce of his being for the door. He made it through, and then went flying forwards, wind flying from his lungs. He turned to his side to see familiar armor glinting in the moonlight. “Scythia?” He asked in confusion. The morningstar said no.

With the gates opened, the party’s small army made their way inside the quiet abbey. The great walls of Bloodstone Abbey were surpassed. Next, the goblin camp. The party called in their mounts and mounted up for the lightning strike while the goblins slipped inside their camp, that was except for one paladin.

“Where’s shorty?” Julian asked as he looked around and saw a golden retriever without a diminutive knight on his back.

“Uh oh.” Each one said at once when they realized Peregrin was now in the camp, having slipped into the goblin camp to try to convince them to lay down their arms.

“Well. If he got torn to pieces, it’s his own damn fault.” Julian said as he crossed his arms and sighed. Jort ignored this, and bereft of mount, began moving stealthy forwards towards the goblin camp.

Inside the camp, an argument was beginning to formulate as cowardice and self-interest combined with the naturally disagreeable nature of goblins to formulate the beginnings of what was looking to be a riot. Into this mess stepped Peregrin, who raised his hands and voice and began to speak.

“Friends, goblins, lend me your ears.” Several dozen flat feet turned to stare at the implacable halfling, who smiled like a champion. “Here you stand arguing amongst each other, brother and sister against one another, but asked yourselves, who is your enemy?”

Only the straight up divine intervention of his magnificent oath kept them from answering “You!”.

“Is it each other? Tell me, whom among you was the one who cast you from the abbey, though there be room enough for all? Who among you decided that you shall be chattel beneath the heels of the hobgoblins? Let him stand forth and be answered for. Whose gods cast down your pantheon and left you a scattered people? Who was it that decreed that you must leave your homes and your families, to depart from peaceful life into unending service in this host? Who is it that lays claimed falsely to your lives, to your labor, to your very souls? I tell you; it is not your brothers or your sisters, it is no goblin at all!”

“How long shall you allow petty disagreement to keep you at the bottom? How long shall you live enslaved to your so-called betters, and even still to the weakling bully of a god that bears his whip? Is this what you desire? Hovels and shanty towns on the outskirts of the conquests you fought and bled for? The scraps tossed from the table of the hobgoblins and the conqueror? Is this all you are worth? To be less than scum, never to be anything more than the lowest of the low? To be forever despised and reviled by your “allies”? To be thought of as rats?”

The goblins began to listen, in spite of themselves, and look around, look at what was built by the free and what they were allowed to build. “I say thee nay! I say let this be the end of that age, let this be the end of such a state! The paths lie before you are thus. You may attack me, and because of your great numbers, you may even strike me down. What then? A continuation, a lifetime beneath the boots of others and then an eternity before the whip of the bully god. Or, rise above this wretched station, forsake this wicked hierarchy, you know this, those fruits of villainy are never anything but servitude and hatred. Turn from this, and let this day be sung in history of when the noble history of the goblin people began, ever upward until the day when your children, your grandchildren, they are called heroes and champions, worthy as any other!”

That speech, perhaps because of the divine will behind it, perhaps for persuasive rhetoric, or perhaps simply because this halfling, this knight, this hero dared to believe in goblins of all creatures, stirred their hearts and minds and for a brief moment they dared to dream. To dream that one day they might be slaves no more, that their children might be something more, that there might even be a day when they could be called heroes in their own right. For a brief shining moment, the goblins stood and saw a choice before them.

“Well done well done indeed!” An old and rich voice spoke, and that voice made the whole of the host flinch, slow clapping of metal gauntlets echoed as a hobgoblin stepped into the light of the goblin’s cooking fire.

He was tall and almost noble looking, broad yet lean, neither as heavy as Senket nor as mighty as Kazador, but still his presence made him seem a titan. His armor gleamed in the firelight, and a , febladearfully and wonderfully forged hung at his side, and on his side a sturdy steel shield. On his back was a great cloak of a dire bear’s skin, a princely garment paid for with a scar and a harsh battle. His face was handsome in spite of his many scars, in fact it might have been more handsome for them. Doubtless his noble visage would have been the envy of many kings, and his mighty frame that of adventurers and savage lords. He bore a helm crowned with seven eagle plumes, and behind it shone silver eyes bright with cold intellect.

This was the legate, the breaker of legions. This was the champion, the slayer of heroes. This was the scourge, the bane of abbots. This was Pompey, lord of Bloodstone Abbey, knight of the great Conqueror.

Fear began to close on Peregrin’s heart as he realized that this was a trap. The guards at the gatehouse did not expect to be attacked from within the abbey, and so they did not lock the door. The paladins did not expect to be attacked from without, and forgot to shut the gate.

The last halflings to enter the gate, the archers, whirled as they heard the sudden thunder of steel boots behind them. The remaining hobgoblin legion charged them from behind and fell upon them. They screamed out into the dark as the horde filled the door and trapped the rebels inside. The paladins whirled in total surprise, and Yndri turned dark as she remembered the mocking words of a jester. “This is indeed not over goblin. You shall suffer for this.” She promised as she drew her bow.

“I must admit, your strategy has been quite good, and you behaved just as you should have to defeat me. Whomever your strategist is, I salute him.” Pompey said as he stepped forwards and drew his axe. “But I am afraid that your little incursion is at an end. Singulares, deal with him.” He ordered the goblins, but they did not move, either for fear or for indecision.

“Perhaps it was a better speech than you realized.” Peregrin answered as he drew his own blades and eased into his stance.

“Jaborah.” Pompey said with a smile. “It has been twenty years since I slew the last champion of the withered guard. It shall be good to do so again.” He said shifting into his own stance, and Peregrin felt a cold fear try to take hold, but he did not quail before it. For a moment, hope and terror looked one another in the eye. Feet bare and booted shifted, and the fire of the goblins crackled in the night. Then they sprang.

Peregrin struck first and struck hard, lunging low beneath his opponent’s swipe and opening two festering wounds in his legs. Those same legs lashed out and kicked him back. A blade came down. Peregrin raised his swords and parried, but the might of the blow staggered him briefly. A shield crashed into his guard and scattered. Peregrin went pale as Pompey reversed his axe and struck the halfling across the face, sending him sprawling with ears ringing.

Sparks danced in the darkness as Peregrin and Pompey went back and forth, swiping, dodging, parrying, grazing, each well aware that a single mistake could cost them their lives. Each was a master of their art, both good men, but both knew that a big good man would eventually beat a small good mam. Furthermore, Pompey’s armor was troublesome for such small blades to defeat, even if they could slip past his defenses. The goblins watched in awe, unwilling or unable to betray their master, yet still holding on to hope against hope that he might fall as the two figures clashed in the firelight for the fate of the abbey.

Back at the gate, Yndri whirled in the night and called blade to hand to plunge into the melee, ancient words upon her lips. “Arise root and branch, wind as web and wave!” And as at the ruin of the halfling village, the forest answered, binding the hobgoblins in silver vines like spider thread.

“Order on me! Protect the halflings!” Julian shouted as he drew his blade and charged, cleaving down the bound soldiers before their friends could free them.

“Kazador!” Senket shouted as she moved to help him “Get Jort and Peregrin, then guard our rear! We shall hold them!” She promised, reforged armor and old mace glinting as she fell into the fray.

“Aye las!” Kazador said as he ran for the goblin camp. It was not too far, but still he prayed he was not too late.

The hobgoblins did not simply climb over their friends like the gnolls did, but instead those on the other side of the obstruction shifted to two handing their longswords and hacked away the vines, freeing their friends and then stepping aside as others rush in. Despite being so heavily outnumbered, the paladins did not give an inch, despite sustaining blows. Julian rolled past the cut to his shoulder and struck a head from its owner’s shoulders. Using the momentum of the blade, he cut into another before whirling to cut through sword, armor, and hobgoblin. 

His phantom blade took its place beside him. Senket bore perhaps the harshest fury of the hobgoblins, as they recognized whose armor she was wearing, and fell upon her with all wrath. Fortunately, that armor was also enough to ward her from their strike. She responded without fear, every motion pushing through one attack to another, hurling hobs back and splitting apart bodies with mighty swings. 

Yndri received once more the ancestral hatred hobgoblins have for all her kin, but this time she was better prepared and a shade more cautious, not allowing a single blow to land. She danced between their dangerous yet inaccurate blows and showed just why a careful strike could be as deadly as a mighty one by way of slit throats and severed arteries.

As the hobgoblins pushed forwards once more into the thin line of the crusaders, their charge was blunted by an unexpected source. A shower of projectiles fell upon them, wounding several as the halflings picked up the bows of their dead comrades and fired into the oncoming horde. The heroes took heart, and though the odds were against them, fought on all the more furiously.

Julian stood proud, his mighty blade and long reach keeping the wide center of the corridor clear, keeping the hobgoblins from getting close enough to strike down the rallying archers. A small pile of mangled bodies was forming around him, though his own blood flowed freely, golden ichor swirling into strange patterns among blue blood, streams of light in an ocean of darkness. Senket stood by the wall as if she were a part of it, unbreakable and unmoving. Though hobgoblins swarmed all around her and wounds slowed her, she did not fall. Using every weapon she could in the tight melee, shield and mace, tail and hoof, every part of her a weapon to hold back an army. Opposite her, radiant even bloodied, flowed Yndri. The elven woman stood where the moon shines and knew no fear, for her goddess was with her. A smile on her lips and life fully in her eyes, she did not diminish even as she whirled, dealing death with death drawing nearer with every blow she took. Still she stood, a song upon her lips and a bulwark against terror.

And to that bulwark, to that wall, to that whirlwind of fury the halflings rallied, and they filled the gaps between the paladins, giving them much needed breathing room. In that moment, the plot of Pompey failed. While he had planned to turn the abbey into a death trap, the Paladin’s swift action had turned the gatehouse into a massive force multiplier, preventing the full horde from attacking at once, and without their overwhelming numbers, they could not win. Whether they would all live to see that victory was another matter altogether.

Jort finally raced into view of the duel between the two champions. “POMPEY!” He roared in challenge, briefly distracting the warlord. Peregrin saw his chance and leaped, blades leveled to piece the legate’s throat.

Only the warlord’s armor saved his life, as the blades deflected, but in that moment, fate bent, and they deflected into slim cracks and slipped through, pumping Pompey full of dark energy. The warlord roared and threw Peregrin off with his shield, bringing his blade down again, but for the third time the world twisted, and his blow struck air. But he had another blow, and as he reversed his blade for that second blow, the scales of fate were balanced. It was a textbook hit, perfect even. The blade pierced under Peregrin’s chain shirt, and came out his back. Then, Pompey tore it out and to the side, ripping out half of the halfling’s intestines, severing his spine, and leaving him in the midst of a rapidly forming pool of blood and bile.

There were two clacks, and then a thud, as two bone hilted swords hit the dirt, followed by the ruined body of Peregrin Horserider.

“Yes, Jort?” Pompey asked. “I believe you have come to try and kill me. Do you still think that wise?” He asked, leveling his bloodstained blade at the younger hobgoblin.

“No, but it doesn’t matter.” Jort snarled, and charged. Gladii clashed against one another with enough force that steel chipped, and Jort’s shield met Pompey’s. The older hobgoblin went flying back, landing on his heels with the breath stolen from his lungs. The young man crashed against the old like an avalanche, pushing him back another step and making him strain for all he was worth against the sudden, fanatical strength of the young warrior. “For the sake of my father. For the sake of my friends. I. Will. Kill. You.”

“All this still for Marius. You betray everything for a dead man?” Pompey asked. Then he was to the side, Jort’s force carried him forwards, off-balance, Pompey struck, and Jort raised his shield to block. But in the space of a breath, Pompey’s sword and shield switched places, and one shield clubbed another aside. Pompey’s blade flashed, and Jort’s shield fell away from his now lacerated arm, cut free. Pompey’s boot followed through, hitting Jort below the belt, before coming up smash into his face. Jort fell to the ground, but rolled back to his feet, bleeding from a broken nose and a slashed arm.

“Not just that.” Jort wheezed, but raised his blades again. “It’s wrong, all of it. Damn you. Your treachery, your cruelty, the way you need to see everything under your boot, every good thing in the world crushed and brought to bear, as if only we, only you could have any of it! As if we have the right to starve and enslave the ones in the same breath we say we’re protecting. As if we can betray our brothers, our allies, in the name of greater brotherhood and your damned corpse of an empire! Even a child could see and understand how wicked you have made us. If you are loyalty, then I will gladly be called a traitor!” He roared, and came back in again.

His passion gave his muscles strength beyond their limits. Like a man possessed, he threw himself at Pompey, who fell back before the nearly rabid onslaught. Even so, though he gained ground, Jort could not land a blow. The legate’s weapon and shield were everywhere, able to switch between hands and change his threat profile in an instant. There were no weak spots, and no safe angles of approach. Cuts lashed across Jort’s face, arms, and breastplate as he continued his assault. “If even a child can see this, understand that there is some law written on the hearts of man, some truth of good and evil, and you reject it, how can such a fool as you dare to lead, dare to claim the right to commit such great evils for such a greater good?”

Pompey hit him with the edge of his shield, hard enough to crack the younger man’s jaw. His blade flashed backwards nearly instantly, sending Jort sprawling with the side of his face cut to the bone. “I see now that not only I failed you, but so too did Marius. Indeed, children have many foolish ideas that they think wise. It is the responsibility of fathers to beat such things out of them.” Jort staggered to his feet, grimacing through the pain. “But for you, it seems our combined failure was terminal.” Pompey growled.

They clashed again, but weakened by his wounds, Jort was simply outmatched. He realized there was no way to win this and live. His brief life flashed before his eyes. Warmth by the fireside. First his father. Then the paladins, a long darkness between them. There could still be hope, but not so long as that darkness remained. He moved with a blow from Pompey’s shield, and switched his sword from one hand to the other and raised it high. Pompey’s blade was already moving towards his throat. He didn’t bother trying to block, but brought the blade down.

Something turned it aside. He stared in shock, as Pompey had drawn a dagger from a hidden sheath behind his shield, swapped it into his other hand, and parried the falling blade. A masterful display, that left Jort’s all or nothing attack falling to the side worthlessly. Then his true blade flashed upwards, and Jort staggered back, blood spraying from the side of his throat. Pompey had slashed open his carotid, a mortal blow.

“I take no joy in this, my son.” Pompey said, almost regretfully, as he watched Jort stagger back. “But I’m in it for the species. This is the only path that we can take to restore our glory. I cannot allow anyone, even you, to stand in that path.” He sighed. “Such a waste, I thought perhaps one day, you might carry on to see the world as it should be.”

Then, he paused, and shifted back slightly. The blood had stopped flowing, and Jort did not fall. He took a step back, and then snapped his gaze down, meeting eye to eye with the legate. “Maybe, maybe you’re right.” He said, with cold clarity, and a foot forwards. “Perhaps, the only way we can regain the world is through your methods.”

The two clashed again, Pompey raised his shield, and it didn’t matter. A flash of lighting roared into being at the impact, blinding and electrocuting the legate. He howled in pain and surprise, and went staggering backwards. “But what cost will you take from our souls?” Jort took a step forwards and kicked his shield into his hands. “And what cost must that bring?” Blades locked, lighting howled, and the legate fell back. “Justice will always step forwards to have her due!” Jort continued, and slammed his shield into Pompey’s chest. The legate hit the ground hard, and Jort brought his blade down, all the fury of heaven shrouding it. He drove it towards that hateful helm, and struck true for the eye slits. His blade pierced through, and buried itself in the legate’s eye, making a ruin of it, though he could not reach the brain. “And the world cannot long abide those who turn from the path of the righteous!”

The legate tore himself free from the voltaic judgement. Jort’s blade slipped, biting into the earth, and then Pompey’s dagger slashed open his heel. “Souls? A soul is only a man's memory, the story told of him. To those who triumph, the right is given to write their own story. Those who are damned are the weak, for only the weak may be damned.” The legate remarked as he came to his feet. Jort whirled to strike, and hit air, before another boot struck out. He raised his shield, but the block threw him back onto the wounded heel. His balance failed, and Pompey pressed him further. “Righteousness, Justice, you speak with a child's understanding. Justice is found in determining exceptions, and those are made by the sovereign. Whosoever is king, he then is justice.”

He pressed down, throwing Jort further off balance by his wounded heel. Jort struck to counter, but Pompey’s dagger was swifter. Three of Jort’s fingers fell from his hand, and with them his sword. Then the dagger struck him in the side, and Pompey cast him down. “As for such things as righteousness, indeed, there is the instinct of group survival, but it is only rightly followed to one's own kind. To show mercy to your enemy is to show cruelty to your kin.” He kicked the younger hobgoblin’s shield aside and brought his boot down on it, breaking Jort’s wrist and pinning his arm to the ground. Gentleness in battle is evil, for it allows the enemy to destroy your people. Righteousness, in short, is only that which benefits the race.”

He raised high his blade in both hands. “Finally, as for laws, I know at the very least I taught you this much. Quoting law is worthless for we who carry swords.” The blade fell, and something hot as a forge stepped forwards.

“This then, is where you fail” A voice, deep and terrible, spoke. An axe met the falling blade, and the blade shattered like glass. Pompey whirled, then something hit him in the chest, a white-hot blur that burned and broke his armor, hurling him bodily with broken ribs. “Those who think swords make laws must not wear crowns.”

Pompey got up, coughing up blood, and looked at death. The dragon stepped over his wounded comrades, blazing like a torch in the darkness. His scales glowed red-hot, his breath licked with tongues of fire. But his eyes, his eyes were most terrible, piercing through Pompey and leaving his soul bare. “Your laws end with your sword.” Kazador snarled. “Your rule dies with you, and its death is long overdue.”

The battle still raged at the gate. Julian still swung, blood still flowed, hobgoblins died, and the paladins held, but all that was distant now to Kazador. All of it was so very far away, gone beneath a tidal wave of fury, a melting, searing hate like magma from the core of the earth, white hot and overwhelming. His body burned, the dwarven mail turning red-hot from its wearer’s own internal heat as axe raked the air like a talon. Kazador spoke an oath, not in his thickly accented common, not even in the dwarven tongue his mind knew best. He spoke as a dragon, in the language his mind had never learned but his blood had never forgotten, and his words were power, graven into the soul and name of the world by ancient magic.

“Pompey. By Bahamut, by Tiamat, by ancient Mardok. By the blood of my ancestors, by the strength of stone and by the purity of fire. I will kill you. For the sake of any righteous crown cannot abide unrighteous ones, and, petty as it may be, because you dared to hurt my friends.” Pompey felt in that moment a chill, though the night was warm, and heat washed out in waves from the enraged dragonoid such that the air around him shimmered. He felt the chill of death, and his breath left frost upon his lips at the sheer might of Kazador’s vow of enmity.

The other paladins sensed the divine power manifesting and knew what it meant. For a moment they considered turning back, but they would not let this be in vain, and so, in the name of their fallen brother-in-arms, they brought furious vengeance upon the hobgoblins. Pulsing crimson, slashing silver, radiant golden flame. The fury of the paladins was greater and more terrible than anything the hobgoblins had ever seen. Julian moved like a Solar, each blow turning bodies to red mist, leaving mangled armor in his wake. Yndri flowed like lightning, and neither blade nor bone remained unsevered before her blades. Senket was perhaps most terrible of all, horns in flame, hooves grounding dust into the air around her, armor was broken, bodies burnt to ash as though the fires of hell itself sprang forth from her.

What then shall hobgoblins do against such reckless hate? Naught remained but to flee, for even the iron discipline of that race has limits, and to see so many of their number laid low by such mighty forces was too much even for them. They broke and forsook the abbey forevermore.

Yet their captain remained, and he and Kazador flung themselves at one another. Axe clashed against dagger. Though weakened by Peregrin’s fell blows, Pompey was still a mighty man of valor indeed. He caught the other axe on his shield, but the axe went through, and Kazador ripped it from his arm, carving a deep rent in Pompey’s flesh and armor as he did. He swung again and Pompey reached up and grabbed him by the wrist, holding the larger man back. The remaining paladins turned and rushed to their friend’s aid, pounding down the courtyard in their haste.

Pompey drove his blade into a weak point in Kazador’s armor, twisting it. He slipped away from a blow, and struck again, again, and again, but it had seemingly no effect. He could not bleed the dragonoid dry, for such was his fury that he cauterized his own wounds as they were inflicted. He swung his axes in a pincer, keeping Pompey from fleeing. Instead, the legate moved forwards, using all his strength to drive his blade through Kazador’s elbow and hold back one side of the dragon’s onslaught. But Kazador tensed himself, and Pompey felt as though he was pushing against a wall. He fell back, trying to slip away. But Kazador’s other axe swung into Pompey’s blind spot and made contact.

There was the sound of shattering metal, mulched flesh, and fractured bone. Kazador’s blow blew Pompey’s helmet apart, and buried the head of the axe to the haft in the legate’s face. Pompey’s grip on his dagger wavered, then, he gripped it fiercely again, denying death even with a solid three inches of red-hot metal embedded in his brain. “No.” He whispered. “I have too much still to do.” Then Kazador tore his axe free, and swung both like a pair of scissors. Pompey’s head soared into the air, last eye briefly flicking this way and that, attempting to make sense of what had happened. Then it hit the ground with an unceremonious thud, and the legate was no more.

The party arrived to see Kazador collapsed into a seat, still glowing from his rage. The dragonoid reached out a hand and laid it upon Peregrin’s laboring body, still desperately holding on. The others laid their hands upon him, and the healing magic flowed, even Jort, somewhat unsure of himself, assisted in spite of his wounds, and soon enough the flesh re-knit and the hazel eyes open.

”Ugh… well, all of you here, it’s quite heartwarming. No wait that’s Kazador ow! Ow!” He said as he wiggled away from the still stove-hot dragonoid. “Good to know we can cook eggs on you if we ever lose the frying pan!”

Kazador looked at him sternly, and then just grinned and threw back his head in a long and rumbling laugh of relief. “A shame nearly dying dinae force ye tae reconsider yer terrible sense of humor ya wee bastard!”

Peregrin laughed, and then returned the favor, laying a hand upon Jort and healing his wounds in turn. “I saw what you did, welcome to the party my young friend.” He said, proud as a father.

Julian raised an eyebrow in confusion then remembered the sound of roaring thunder. “Wait, are you saying…” He said in some wonder, as Jort turned towards Peregrin in equal confusion.

“Aye, I saw it as well. A sleeping giant awakening. A paladin, come into their power.” Kazador confirmed.

Jort looked down at his hands, and wondered at the sparks of electricity which still danced there. “I… I guess so. I’m not sure how or what I did. I just…”

“Stood up for the right thing.” Senket finished.

“Had something to fight for.” Yndri added.

“Saw the world as it aught to be.” Julian considered.

“Woke up, and grew up.” Peregrin noted.

“Did what ye had to.” Kazador finished. “That’s all it is. We do what we can, an’ when that’s nae enough, we figure out how to do more.”

And so, the Paladins retired for the night, entering the sandstone abbey for the first time, and in triumph. The halflings and the goblins looked at one another with great unease, but for the moment the presence of the paladins and the euphoria of the night was enough to keep tensions silent.

“We really ought to re-christen this place. Bloodstone Abbey seems too grim for a place like this.” Senket considered as they entered the great hall, the warm walls rising upwards above many long tables.

“Save that theological debate for the morning, I’m tired. If you have to do it tonight, then just call it Redwall or something like that and be done with it.” Julian grumbled as he headed in the general direction of what was either the dormitories, or the cellar.

“Redwall? Seems a little too obvious. It probably had a name before the goblins took it, maybe we can find that.” Yndri suggested.

“Fer once I agree with ser chicken nugget, ah’m offskee.” Kazador grumbled as he wandered off to bed, which for him probably is in the cellar. The remaining paladins looked at one another and shrugged, before bidding one another good night, and wandering off to find proper beds for a well-earned rest.

[thebard490]

Paladins: Order Undivided Chapter 15: Battle of the Turning Sword

            I am the Bard, who has seen each war since the First. Many were righteous, many more unrighteous. Few were great, all were terrible. So it has been and shall be. 

            Under the moonlight, the paladins rode, bearing word of coming doom. Under the moonlight, the halflings followed, and came by them to the first village. There, they did not rest, but labored intensely to make ready for a red dawn.

Despite their best efforts and the best of their infiltrator Jort, the paladins did not yet know just how mighty a blow the Legate had reached out to smite them with. That night, four decanum, and fifty Singulares prepared to march out at dawn. On their left flank were twenty soldiers, skilled and ruthless, led by the veteran Primus Pilus Scythia, and on their right twenty more, led by a Judas yet unknown. In the center, fifty goblins slavered for blood, the dancing madness of the jester and sorcerer Fimbiblius bringing them to a fervor. As the dawn bloomed across the blackest sky, the fading vineyard of dark ichor throbbed with expectation. It was a blood dawn, a red dawn, the dawn of a day for slaughter!

The thud of boots trampled, as four columns marched smartly down, the beat of drums keeping every soldier marching in time. The red morn glinted on their weapons and armor, some old yet well maintained, and others freshly forged of bronze that once rang proudly from a high tower, today the bell broken would ring out on dwarven steel!

Behind them the flat green feet of lesser goblins pattered infrequently, any stragglers finding the sharp crack of the whip and the snarl of a cursing overseer. While they might grovel and cower, their wicked hearts beat hotly, long tongues lick thin lips as rusted daggers and dented scimitars glinted in the glades. Today they would strike their hated foe, and tonight they would feast on their still warm flesh!

A stag lifted its head at the sound of the war beat and quickly rushed away, light hooves leaping gracefully through wooded fen to atop grassy knoll, the light of the moon and unnatural cleverness in its eyes. As it bounded it bugled out a warning, a planned signal that its lady would know.

Yndri meditated in the coming dawn, aside from the village, sat cross legged in a favored tree, lips speaking silent prayers to her gods. “Creator, grant me victory, Maeve, guide my arrows, Heavens, shield these little ones from the ravages of the dark gods.” When she heard the warning, her amethyst eyes opened. There was a sort of excitement to them, a momentary taste of the thrill of battle, to feel the blood of her foes upon her blades and charge once more in the name of her goddess. She rose and dropped from tree to shadow, and as she prepared to depart, she offered a silent, singular prayer to a goddess her mind no longer knew but her soul would always remember. “Watch over me again…”

“Watch over me once more, dark mother…”

Silver hair ran in dark shadow, blurring across the dawning day, back down into the village, a warning on her lips. “Arise! Arise halflings! Arise my comrades! Evil came upon us! A day for battle dawns!”

In the village, warriors roused themselves from their breakfasts and donned what armor they had, padded shirts and wooden shields swiftly sewn and hewn. Ancient weapons reborn and the blades that once so harshly oppressed came to hands as they assume their positions.

Already, their champions were arisen. Kazador and Senket left their tent and set their separate ways. He would go to the forest, to ride out again and break the enemy with his mighty hammer. She would remain, to rally the defenders and hold against the tide, an immovable anvil for the foe to break upon.

The bone hilts of Avoree laid warm in the hands of his champion. Peregrin, ancestor of Bolgar the Horserider, stood at the center of the trench line. He would not depart from his people, godless though they might be. Godless again stood the son of the heavens, with blade an echo of his father’s in his hands. Aside Kazador and War Pig he rested atop his mighty steed until the time came for the lord of conquest to ride forth and shatter the foe.

“Death.” Swore Jort. “Death.” Swore the loyal betrayer, death to his foes, death to those besides him, death to his false comrades, death for the sake of the one whom he still owed loyalty, even beyond the gates of hades.

Silver and red made a beautiful tragedy as the crimson light blossomed across the readied stand of Silverthorne. Strung and mighty was her shaven bow, and silver were her arrows. Readied were her favored blades, openly worn, for the boot was too far to risk now. By her stood the hunters, their deadliest prey coming unto them with slaughter in heart.

They could all hear the drums now, and all stand ready as the force stepped from the woods to the clearing. What they saw was hardly what had been expected. The green before them was cut bare, and before them stood a thin line of halflings, armed and armored best as they might, with weapons in hand and paladins at their head. Scylla paused, and looked at this in some confusion, and the legionaries murmured amongst themselves. They had expected perhaps an ambush, but certainly not open battle, or open war against the halflings themselves. But they saw among them the devil’s daughter and elven amazon, and were greatly confounded and enraged.

Scylla watched carefully. These were the self-same warriors who had contested them during their tribute expedition, and now they stood alongside the halflings. A glance informed her that these halflings were not merely the inhabitants of this village, but of several others. This was no mere resistance, it was open rebellion, headed by the hated elves. Forth she sent an emissary, and drew up her lines for battle.

“Halflings!” The emissary called. “His sovereignty, Imperator Legate Pompey, has sent us to offer you sanctuary in these times of trouble. Lay down your arms, and yield to us, and you and all yours shall be taken safely into Bloodstone Abbey for the duration of the crisis. Do not be deceived by elf or devil, for they are your enemies. They shall seek your enslavement, and bring ruin to your people.”

Then Jok, the leader of the halflings, answered him. “You say that they seek our enslavement, and you our protection, yet what have you done for us? You have come and only taken, and given naught in return. Our people have suffered much indeed before you, and now how much more with you? You come and would starve us, and take us from our homes, with all armies and savagery. But here stand these few who have fought for us, and asked nothing of us in return. How then can you say one is a slaver, and you protector? When insofar as any of us can see, you are no friends to liberty, but slavers, even enslaving yourselves. Therefore I bid you in turn, go out from the abbey, and depart from these lands, for we who dwell in them have grown sick of you!”

The emissary, being a soldier and not a diplomat, lost his temple. “Why you ungrateful little shit.” He drew his sword, as if to come across the plane of diplomacy and cut down the halfling where he stood.

A shaven bow sang, and in that song was the promise of a new age, an age without the terror of the conqueror, an age of peace and prosperity. Perhaps this was the promise that this song of rebellion brought, but it sounded the creaking of ancient and terrible gates. Henceforth peace departed, and blood came upon the land, for the gates of Janus were open, the dogs of Mars bayed havoc, for henceforth, there was only war.

Scythia watched as her emissary fell, an arrow in his throat. “So be it.” The bloody maid stated. “Let there be death!” She cried as she raised tall the banner of the goblin god and ordered forwards her force.

“DEATH!” She was answered, though not by her troops, but by the valorous small, a cry of defiance, of hatred, and of cold acceptance that today there would be no quarter. “DEATH!” again the halflings cried. For the briefest moment, even the hardened butcher gave pause at this most unusual sight, then she shook it free and donned her dragon helm as the legion advanced. The goblins came up the middle, with the hobgoblins on either end. It would be a tactic of envelopment, pinning the foe with the goblins in the center, and then striking from either flank to overwhelm and roll up their presumably less disciplined foe. Scylla commanded the left, Fim the center, Jort the right.

Jort headed his own flank, wearing no helm and marching forwards with no fear on his face, merely a hard-set determination. Behind him his men had long grumbled at their leader being naught but the eightieth before today, but even they saluted his courage. Now he stood along them the youngest officer, but noble in his countenance. Almost naturally, he stood at the head of his men, like a hero of the ancient republic, leading from the front among the other young men. The same could not be said for the goblins, who hesitated at first at the sight of even these slapdash defenses. The whips cracked and the jester urged them forwards. “Stab! kill! Stab! kill! All glory to me!” Henceforth they began to charge.

“Fire on the leftward arm! Give Senket and your comrades as much aid as you can!” Yndri shouted as she let fly into the oncoming wing of the retaliatory force. Silver slashed red as a soldier fell mid-charge and was stepped over by his brothers. The halfling archers followed suit, and the sun twinkled between the shadows of falling shafts. Shields were raised, protecting most of the force, but still some small shafts slipped through to wound. Blood spattered the grass.

Through the shower of projectiles, Scythia charged on. Clad head to toe in full plate, she was all but invulnerable to the halfling’s assault. Onwards she plunged with two at her left and two at her right into the halfling’s flank, hoping to break through there. From there they could circumnavigate the defenses and roll up the rebels with the other flank while the goblins held them in the middle. Doing so, they would crush the impudent midgets in jaws formed of sturdy hobgoblins.

The paladins, under the command of Julian, had prepared a strategy of their own. The halflings had dug out a hidden trench the night before, and filled it with sharpened stakes. Any charge against their lines, as might be expected to break them, would hit the trench and be slowed and wounded, leaving them easy prey for the halflings. Soon, the efficacy of this would be tested, as the line of goblins surged towards the thin line of the militia.

On the left, the jaws of defeat would find themselves broken upon the indomitable iron that was Chult’s rejected daughter. At the edge of the halfling line to counter any such oblique attack was Senket Zarathustra, the immovable knight of devotion. Gladius and Morningstar clashed, and shield locked against banner. Hoof and boot stepped forwards and dragon helm slammed into horned head. Eyeball to eyeball the two warrior women strained against one another.

 “So, the slaves think to sell their souls for freedom.” Scythia remarked before shoving back, forcing Senket to retreat and deflect two slashes so swift that they seemed as blurs. “I am afraid to inform you that those are not theirs to sell. The halflings belong to me and the horde, mind, body, and soul!” She declared before lashing out with the standard. It struck Sen in the face, bruising it.

The infernal paladin was undeterred and responded with her mace. While Scythia slipped the first blow, the second struck her armor, blunt force crunching it to leave a serious bruise of her own on her forearm. “They never have, and they never will!” She responded, clarion voice raising her challenge above the field of battle. 

The hobgoblins moved around them. On their left, a pair discovered the hidden trench by falling into it. The halflings were upon them in a moment, restored maces turning bloody again as they crunched through armor. Two more tried to go around, only to be denied by Senket’s striking shield and seeking mace, sending one to the floor and the other to the grave.

The goblins hit the trench and fell, only for their friends to step on their heads to get over. The halflings descended and met them. Physically they were almost evenly matched, likewise both sides had salvaged weapons and next to no armor. Despite this, it was no stalemate, not only did the trench grant the goodly folk an advantage, today is their day of retribution. What skill could not provide sheer fury would instead, as the hatred of the halflings left them unrecoiling from wounds, instead striking on through to deliver telling blows. Blood flowed deeply as superior numbers and superior morale strained against one another.

On the left, Jort moved more slowly, a careful advance behind the goblins with shields raised to avoid casualties from arrow fire. Seeing the trench, he began to lead his men around in a wide flank to circumvent it, and to isolate them from the rest of the army. He spied Peregrin opposite him, and Yndri in the center. That meant that the decisive firepower of Kazador and Julian were still unaccounted for. If he failed with this gambit, then the two of them would be able to swiftly fall upon his isolated unit. Once they were safely away, he called a halt and turned.

“Brethren.” he said calmly. “The halflings are correct.” The statement made the others around him take pause, and he stepped forwards, turning so that he might look his men eye to eye. “I have been in long consideration, regarding the approach of our current legate. It is wrong. I do not say this merely from my own personal distaste for the man, my bias is easily understood. But I say this, having seen a better way. Look to them now, see how courageously they fight, how many come together without the need of whips and blades. How is it that they have obtained this? It is because their cause is just, and justice in a manner that is clear to the hearts of all.”

“As for us? How are we outmatched in the strength of spirit by farmers, by those we once condemned as weak? Are we so diminished in spirit? Forever we have sought to restore the empire, but in doing so, we have diminished our hearts. We cling to old propaganda, and walk as only ghosts. Is this what it means to be hobgoblins, to murder those who refuse our protection? What are we protecting them from then, if not ourselves? Such hypocrisy. We said once we were the unifiers and protectors of the world, but now here are those unified without, nay, against us, and seeking protection from us. All that we have aspired to is forgotten now, for the ambition of a few men of blood and ruthless ambition. I shall not die for this, far less so kill for it. Come, my brothers, let us be done with this folly, and seek justice and righteousness once more, true justice, and true righteousness, and not the propaganda of emperors long past.”

The other hobgoblins stared at him like he’d gone completely and utterly mad. The younger ones, nearest to him, considered his words carefully, and looked honestly upon what was happening. Had they not after all been sent to protect these people, why then were they being fought against? It seemed like madness. But as for the elder hobgoblins, their stunned silence gave way to hardly quiet anger, and one of them stepped forth. “I see now that Pompey was indeed a fool.” He remarked, and gave Jort brief hope. “A fool to place such a coward and traitor as you in any manner of command. We rule, we lead, and the rest follow or die, that is how it has always been and must ever be. To turn against this is nothing short of treason to our entire race, and blasphemy before our god.”

Jort stood, weapons ready. “If this be treason, make the most of it.” And the triari came forth to indeed make the most of it. The eldest third of the unit pushed past the others, and moved on the younger hobgoblin. The one who spoke first rushed Jort, and their blades clashed against one another’s shields. Their weaponry and armor was equal, but Jort had the strength of youth, and his foe the wisdom of age. They pushed against one another briefly, before the older man gave ground, only to pivot and slash at Jort’s throat. Jort blocked, falling back. The elder pursued, and thrust his blade forwards at Jort’s sword-arm to disarm him. In the blink of an eye, Jort swapped his shield and sword to the opposite hands, and deflected the strike. His opponent had no time to process this unexpected ambidexterity before Jort retaliated and slashed open his throat.

Despite this swift victory, Jort swiftly had to fall back, giving ground before the oncoming forces. He was vastly outnumbered, but fortunately, he’d isolated himself from the rest of the army. About two thirds of his own unit were now trying to surround him and cut him down, but he moved swiftly, baiting them nearer to the halfling lines and keeping up a defense. He took a momentary advantage, and landed a lethal thrust again one of his purusers, but the blade became trapped. Another stepped in, and landed a cut across his arm, forcing him to drop his blade. With no weapon, they pressed in on him more confidently, landing blows on his armor that winded him and drove him further back, until one slammed their shield into his chest, throwing him to the ground.

Swiftly, they made to execute the fallen spy, and four blades fell for his throat. Then, in a flash, all four were turned aside. In another moment, four blades hit the ground, hands followed shortly thereafter. Peregrin had entered the fray! As the maimed hobgoblins fell back, trying in vain to stem the bleeding from their lost limbs, others pressed forwards. Peregrin danced into their midst, using his smaller size and the enemy’s advantage in numbers to his advantage. Amongst them, he used his own enemies as cover, preventing them from all swinging against him effectively. All the while, his own blades danced, each one fighting a different hobgoblin at once, covering the ground in blood as he struck for crucial tendons and joints, weak points in armor that left his foes falling to the ground crippled. As more turned to face him, they found themselves suddenly assaulted from behind, as Jort picked up a dropped sword, sans hand, and hacked into his former allies’ backs.

Then, just as the hobgoblins rallied, from the forests charged two mighty beasts, a great black steed like nightmare, the devil in its eyes and midnight in its coat. By its side was a great boar, with cold winter in its heart, from which the mortals quail, drawing together by hearths beneath totems of pine and tinsel. Astride them rode two champions, captains of man and dwarf. In one was a blade like a holy avenger, with the wings of an angel for the hilt, the voice of the divine was in his mouth, terror all about him. In the other silver axes gleamed in the hands of a dragon. Fire was in his heart and justice in his eyes. About him was clad dwarven steel of fine make, and at his voice the stones trembled from the craftsman’s tongue.

“Justice! Justice for the sons of Esther!” Kazador roared in the tongue of his true father as he fell upon their lines. Axes cleaved and the anvil rang out, followed by the thuds of corpses hitting the earth. War Pig bellowed, bane of Baratheon, tusks gored and bulk crushed. He smashed directly into the center of their formations, hewing about with utter ferocity.

“A breaking! An ending! And a new world from the ashes!” Julian roared in celestial as blades physical and phantom cleft the foe, who scattered before that beginning of wisdom, terror of the holy. The war horse whinnied, wrathful beyond its kin, hooves cleaving and trampling once more in wicked glee. “All who heed him, flee, for all who stand this day shall perish!” He declared, and unleashed a surge of his power and authority. Red light covered the battlefield, as he struck against the hearts and minds of his foes. Their movements slowed, becoming spasmatic, allowing him to easily unleash devastating blow upon devastating blow from horseback.

A shout went up from the halflings as they saw the right flank begin to fall, and the pressure relieved. Redoubling their attacks, the goblins looked ready to break already, such was their cowardice, but the whips drove them on. Seeing this, Yndri called upon her forces anew. “The whips! Fire on the whips!” She demanded, delivering two silver streaks to two faces, and two souls to Acheron. The hunters responded, and while they lacked her skill, numbers would suffice as several whips were turned to pincushions. The goblins wavered, and then pulled back at the jester’s cry. “Run! flee!” He ordered, and the cohort pulled back, a shade too controlled for a full rout.

The triumph beginning on the right had not seemed to reach the left though, as Hobgoblins swarmed Senket. Despite her impeccable defenses, attacks from every angle struck her. Scythia took advantage, lashing out with her gladius she rent through the coat of plates and cleft the paladin grievously, before striking her in the jaw with the standard, forcing her to a knee. “Down! I shall not be delayed by some infernal whore! Bend the knee and die already!” Her blade descended like an executioners, only to be stopped by a shield emblazoned with a burning sword.

“I am the heir of Arvidor, knight of the burning blade and servant of the high heavens.” Senket growled as she rose, forcing back the blade despite several wounds, her sanguine flesh soaked in blood, both hers and her enemies. “I shall not kneel, save before my lord at the end of my duty.” Her eyes flared, and she lashed out with her shield. Golden fire surged and Scythia screamed as the paladin flung her back. “AND ONLY IN DEATH DOES DUTY END!” Senket roared as she pushed on. Her morningstar became the blazing sun itself, rending plate and bone in radiant fire. Inspired by her courage, the halfling flank hurled itself at the hobgoblins. “DEATH!” they roared their terrible cry anew, forcing the hobs to turn their attention from Senket.

A wicked grin filled Fimbimbulus’s face as his jester bells jingled. “Now! KILL THE BOSSES!” He screamed with a mad laugh as he hurled a bolt of wild magic into the hobgoblins on the left. It slew one and jumped to another, burning her flesh in electricity and acid. The sadistic goblin laughed like a maniac at her dying screams. The goblins turned and fell upon the hobs with glee. Even Scythia stumbled as a goblin struck her heel.

“Treachery.” Scythia hissed as she lashed out at the goblins around her. With a single sweeping blow, she struck the heads from two, and then slew another pair before one dove under her attack to plunge a dagger into her heel. She turned and saw Senket’s mace descending. With her wounded leg she could not hope to evade, so she closed her eyes and braced for death, only to be surprised as Senket instead crushed the goblin, before flattening another and kicking a third into the mud.

“Wretched creatures! Do not defile this contest between warriors with your treachery!” She ordered the green skinned creatures back. Cowed by her fury, the goblins slunk to find other prey, joining with the others to destroy the remaining hobgoblins. Scythia looked at Senket confused before the latter reached out and caught her arm as it pulled away. A light touch of healing magic flowed between the two and mended the Pilus’s heel, before Senket let go and stepped back, readying herself again.

For a moment the two warriors look at one another. “Why?” Scythia asked finally.

“You face me as an equal, and while you yourself might welcome outside interference, my honor demands that I face you honestly.” Senket responded.

Scythia looked at her, and in spite of herself, smiled. “Honor? A thing I thought long dead. I had thought to capture you and see you brought low for your defiance, but in light of such a rare treasure, I shall merely slay you. I would have your name though, that I might remember our contest.”

“I am Senket Zarathustra, and I would have yours to remember you by.”

“I am Scythia, Pilus of Pompey’s Legion. It was a privilege to face you. Go swiftly to your gods without disgrace.”

“And you also, to the glory of Acheron.”

For a moment, the two warriors, each badly wounded to near death, prepared, each knowing that the next wound they received would be their last. Even among the chaos and butchery, there was a peace. Then boot ground and stepped, hoof leapt, and trails of scarlet flowed behind twin blurs of steel-orange and burgundy. There was a ringing, and then a sound like breaking glass, as Senket not only blocked Scythia’s blow, but shattered her blade altogether. In the instant before her death, Scythia closed her eyes at total peace, before morningstar and golden fire blasted her head from her shoulders and her body to ashes, leaving only a faintly glowing and slightly mangled suit of armor. The banner of the legion fell, and broke in two, the blood of its soldiers drowning the red hand of the goblin god in a sea of untraceable stains on the once white cloth.

Yndri observed the turning tides, and furthermore the cruelty of the jester. It was then that she decided that such a creature would not be allowed to live, and advanced, firing two arrows at the mage that caught his attention and sent him scrambling before the pale slayer. As the jester Fimbimbulus scrambled away from another silver arrowhead, he turned to Yndri with hate in every fiber of his being. “This is not over elf-thing!” He hissed before he vanished into invisibility and ran into the woods.

Between the goblins and halflings, the remaining hobgoblins were butchered. They neither asked nor gave any quarter, save those few who had heeded Jort’s words, and fled into the woods. The paladins pulled back and focused on healing the wounded, but Senket refused to be healed until all others were cared for. When it was all said and done, they had no spells left to heal, so Senket finally allowed herself to fall unconscious and be carried inside.

In the aftermath of the battle, it was found that twelve halflings and thirty goblins had died, along with all the hobgoblins. Without any leader, the goblins agreed to aid Jort in defeating the Legate on the provision that they would be allowed to live in the abbey afterwards, which Kazador agreed to after much grumbling. They had to go to Sen’s bedside to talk with him, as he, along with Yndri, refused to leave. After Sen finally regained consciousness and was healed, they finally set out to recover the weapons. The slaughter was such that all could be armed twice over.

Kazador on the other hand vanished again, having last been seen carrying Scythia’s suit of plate armor. After some searching, they found him back at the chapel repairing it before he ordered Yndri, who found him, to go and get Sen.

”Lass, if yer planning on continuing tae do such daft things as fight off an entire enemy army’s flank by yerself, yer gonna need better armor and ye and that goblins woman are about the same size.” He insisted. “Besides, you’ll freeze in that southern gear.”

Senket was somewhat uncomfortable to change her gear but agreed. After another day and night of constant work, Kazador had refitted the armor to fit the Tiefling. During this, Julian prepared new plans for assault, Yndri and Peregrin trained their troops, and within the bloodstone abbey, Pompey sat upon his throne, one eye pouring over the maps of his defenses. So, the traitor had shown his true colors, and had paladins to boot, one of whom had even slain his beloved Scythia. It was inevitable that they would attack his abbey. Let them come. He would be ready.

[thebard490]

Paladins Chapter 14: Powers, Plots, Hopes

I am The Bard, who has seen much of what was, and is, and is yet to come. Woe, woe to you who dwell upon the earth.

Jort passed along the wall by night, keening his ears to hear the faint hoof-fall of a hidden deer, and the fainter sounds of elvish footsteps. Twice he circled the wall, and on the third, dropped a small package from his palm. He stooped, to tie his boot, and held until the sound of swift steps came and went again. The paladins had the information. They would know of Pompey’s plan, his condescending obligation to the halflings demanded that he brought them into the abbey. However, there they would also be excellent hostages against the paladins. Jort had no idea how they intended to stop it, but he knew without this information, they would stand no chance of doing so.

Thus, it was with some concern that on his fourth circuit, another figure walked up alongside him, bells ringing in his crown. The goblin jester, Fimbimbulus. “First seven, then eighty, and soon to be three, of seven thou were, and six shall be. Of stone and sky, of fire and tree. Called by the river, followed by sea. Now eighty-three-six, riddle with me.”

Jort raised an eyebrow at that. About half of what the jester said was nonsense, but fairly regularly there was a great deal of truth hidden in the fool’s rhymes and riddles. By ancient tradition, the goblin jester lived as a truth-teller, but lived as much by telling the truth carefully and in ways not fit to offend a legate. They were one part seer, one part gossip mill, and in other cases just one part entertainer. Fimbimbulus, or just Fim, was no different, but something about him always seemed a bit off. The jester gimmick was always forced, nobody actually talked like that. But he held hidden depths, even beyond that. Among other things, Jort knew him to be a magic user, an illusionist, rather than the more combat-oriented thunderbolts and fireballs favored by most mages in the legions. He didn’t know the depths of the goblin’s magical abilities, or even if Fim knew himself.

“Alright then, it’s a quiet enough night for now. Riddle as we walk.” He suggested amiably. Best to at least keep up appearances, and while he certainly didn’t trust the jester, he also didn’t dislike him either.

“As brilliant as a burning rainbow

That wanders whether weather says so.

Across mountain forest plain and sea

They stake their name on all that be.”

Jort thought for a moment on it. A thing with many colors, that could travel over any place and laid claim to everything beneath it. No, not just a claim, a name. “Dragons” He answered, for the dragons had named the world and all within it.

“Most splendificorous, now it is your turn cunning wyrmling.” The goblin replied with a smile that was all teeth.

Jort considered carefully. This wasn’t simply a flight of fancy for the jester. But if he wanted answers, the game would have to be played.

“I have no arm but a thousand spears.

I have no legs but set boots to marching.

I set both to laughter and to tears.

By me soothe hearts or set them scorching.”

The goblin considered, then answered. “Voice, or perhaps speech. Clever and bemusing.” Then he replied in turn.

“Nine tarnished pearls hang.

Above the shadow upon tears.

Yet sulfur soldiers feel love’s pang.

I am their hope and greatest fears.”

This one was harder. The nine tarnished pearls were undoubtedly the nine shield worlds against the Nadir, the hells. The sulfur soldiers confirmed it, their inhabitants. He considered what in the world love had to do with any of that, let alone how it might connect to hope and fear. More deeply he considered. The devils were once angels, proud defenders, and the shield worlds were not always hells. Would it be memory? No, that wasn’t it. Hope, could it be for some manner of redemption? No, that didn’t make sense with fears. Hm, perhaps then… “Angels.” He suggested. “The devils hope for aid, but fear their once allies may turn against them?”

“Treachery is certain, the question is from whom, but no.” Fim replied. “Tieflings was the answer.”

Jort raised an eyebrow in confusion. “They are the offspring of devils and mortals, and even devils are not without love for their children. And while you are young, well, not too young, to recognize it, perhaps when this legion finds for itself more women, you will understand.” The goblin laughed bawdily. Jort considered that carefully, then shook his head.

“Don’t even joke about that. I’m far too young to be a good father.” He said with utter sincerity. “I should like to stop being a fool first.”

“Then you had best die celibate, because all fathers are fools, for all men are fools, women the more so for having us. But enough young monk, tell me your next riddle.”

Jort recovered, and considered his next riddle.

“To some the very barest bore

A flavorless banality

But to generals the perfect board

 A cook’s canvas for tasteful artistry.”

“Hah, plain and plain, but not plain at the least.” The goblin noted. “And, I can see a pattern, as can you. Tell me, how long have these five been here, at least to your knowledge?”

Jort’s blade was drawn in an instant, but the goblin waved it aside. “Peace, friend, you asked that I speak plainly, and thus, I shall. I have foreseen your betrayal of Pompey in many a dream. His is a rotten world, dying, and something new and something old is coming. You, young wyrmling, may yet be a part of it, or at least, part of the old dying.”

Jort sheathed his weapon. “You mean to betray him as well then?”

“If by betray, you mean to demonstrate the true loyalty I have ever held him in. The old empire was doubtless wonderful, for the hobgoblins. But we mere, singulares, we have no interest in its return. Old powers with new gifts though, ages before, ages to come, ages apart from such nonsense.” He said, looking out at the camp. “How many of us die for you, and for nothing but you, and you who are in truth, nothing? Nothing but tattered old banners, tarnished gold and faded purple, dying remnants.”

Jort stood by him and watched, looking down upon the camp, and lifting his eyes to the abbey beside it. “I am reminded of a story which my father told me once.” He remarked. “When we came to war with the elves, we called ourselves the freest of peoples, but they said to us that we were the only people who had enslaved ourselves.”

“Both are true, and both are also delusions.” The goblin replied. “There are always masters, and everyone has their master. The question is what, and who. You and I, we have come to see that a corpse makes a poor master, and have claimed for ourselves another one. But, we speak too much of philosophy, to the practical. I have a message, from one servant to another, that you may pass to your masters, or decline.”

“I have no masters.” Jort countered.

“Typical adolescent.” The goblin snarked. “Then tell whatever you are told to call them that a new power and an old one is rising. They may join with it, or challenge it and be burnt away like so much chaff.”

“Interesting.” Jort considered. “And what if I say to the hells with that, stab you in the head, throw you off this wall, and inform Pompey of your treachery?”

“Firstly, you presume that you can kill me.” The goblin noted. “And mightier men than you have tried. Secondly, then you will lose an ally. Soon, battle will be joined between the old world and the new. Whether you join with the true heir or not is irrelevant, you are useful to clearing away an annoyance, and so, the powers of the new world which is old will aid you. When the time comes, be ready, and remember the generosity of one who lays claim by might and birthright.”

And then, he was gone. Jort looked here and there again, but it was as though he had never even been there. Jort looked around again, then continued on his patrol. “The world is changed.” He muttered to himself. “You can taste it on the air, feel it on the waters. The beginning and the end of ages.” He thought again on what had been said, that he said he had no masters. He looked again to the abbey, and to the camp below, and thought on the paladins once more, on the strange comradery found there.

He looked at the space between the abbey and the goblin camp, and saw the wound long rotted. He looked to the space between the named and the nameless, and saw the fall of empire. The legions were meant to be invulnerable, families and brotherhoods, an entire society dedicated to war. But this wasn’t it. It was several different societies, each standing atop another in hopes of not being the bottom. Each one was trying to be a master, so as to not be a slave, or at least the lowest slave.

“What fools we have made of ourselves.” He considered. “I have no masters.” He said again. “But brothers free, and those who are still enchained.”

Meanwhile, the paladins read Jort’s note, and something like a chill went down their spines. “If he brings the halflings into the abbey, he’ll have dozens of hostages.” Peregrin was the first to speak, crumpling the note in his fist. “We have to stop them.”

“Or else take advantage of it.” Yndri suggested. “With them inside the abbey, it could make an infiltration strategy far simpler.”

“While I’m inclined to agree, I won’t risk sacrificing civilians.” Julian countered. “We’ll need to get them moved out of the villages, figure out the most likely route and evacuate them to be clear of that, move them back in later.”

“Running won’t stop the problem, if they just return, they’ll find them again and be far from pleased.” Senket pointed out. “This needs to be stopped in its tracks, a head-on clash.” She slammed one mailed fist into her palm. “We’ve beaten them before, killed their officers, demoralized their men, one solid strike now and we leave them open for an assault on the abbey itself to finish this.” 

“We don’t have the resources for that. The rest of the colonists can’t get here in time, and as strong as we are, five cannot face an army.” Julian warned.

“There’s another problem here laddies.” Kazador noted. “They’ll know we have a mole if we act on this. Whether we run or fight, they’ll ken something suspicious is afoot.”

“So, we also need to extract Jort.” Peregrin said with a nod. “The good news is, from his note he’ll likely be deployed, perhaps he can even sway some of his comrades to our side.”

“If it comes to a battle, a well placed dagger at the right moment could be decisive.” Yndri concurred. “But we have a problem, we have no way of communicating our plans back to Jort. We’d have to find a way to convey that mid-battle, or else rely on his instincts to know when to strike.”

“That is a terrible idea then.” Julian snorted. “Even assuming we can place our trust in him to place that dagger decisively, we’ve got the small problem of that just changing from five vs. an army to six vs. an army.”

“Well, we nae exactly have to be just six.” Kazador pointed out. “Aye, the guards are too far to help, but, well, material goes further for making wee arms and armor, an’ the halflings have reason enough of their own to fight.”

“Absolutely not.” Julian replied, crossing his hands in an emphatic gesture. “We’re here to protect these people.”

“An’ so we shall. But we cannae do it alone, an’ beyond that. The time must come when a people must choose tae stand for themselves in the face of evil.” Kazador replied. “We can give them strength, give them hope, but freedom is nae something that can be granted. Ye must reach out an’ grasp it, or it’s nae freedom at all.”

“Well, I agree now that you’re not suggesting drafting them.” Yndri pointed out. “If we make haste, we might be able to gather the fighting men and women of each village, concentrate our forces, and make a stand. Anyone who’s willing at least.”

Senket nodded. “It’s about the best option we have. Besides, birdbrain’s a decent tactician, I’m certain you can find a way to even the odds.”

Julian glared at her, then nodded. “Right. Can’t risk anything too complex, but I’ll see what I can manage. But we need to make damned sure they understand what they’re going into. If they waver, or break, then it’s over, all the fighting will be meaningless if they turn and run to be cut down in the back.”

Peregrin sighed, and took a long draw from his pipe. “If you think we’re weak because we’re farmers, you’ve not met many farmers.” He remarked. “And would be equally foolish to think that those who fight the evil of the world with plowshares are ignorant when compared to those that fight with swords. We are not unaware of the evil of the world, though oft we do our best to build the good in return, and to turn the cheek against any blow. But we are not ignorant. So many of our holidays, the secular ones, are “they tried to kill us, they failed, let’s eat.” And that sort of thing. To carry on in goodness, and in the heart and spirit of gentleness, in the face of that, that is our resolve, not the same as the dwarves or elves, but resolve nonetheless.”

“My bothers and sisters in this land, they have endured much. But, now, we can all feel it, a turning in the air, the end of a season of sorrows and the beginning of something new. That vow you swore to them, it is not only for yourself. But they will see hope, and stand again. Indeed, they have endured much, and thus again they will endure much, for the sake of their homes and for their hopes. Let them come, so that you may see what valor there can be in the weak, and how tall the small can stand when they have something worth fighting for.”