Crookedkit scowls with pointed frustration down at his starter, laying uselessly on the grass at his feet. The Pidgey he had hoped to battle flutters its little wings once before flying off into the trees. Frog dirt.
He's supposed to be a trainer. It took some learning to figure out what that meant, but now he's confident that it's kind of like being a warrior - something that, once he figured it out, Crookedkit has been absolutely adamant to pursue and excel at. But how is he supposed to win anything when his only Poke-mon is a boring loach that doesn't do anything?? He can't even ask other trainers for help, all the Twoleg kits he's tried to ask having just attacked him and sent him running with his...well, he doesn't have a tail anymore, but if he did it would have been between his legs.
At the rate things are going, he's tempted to just start throwing his Poke-balls at things, with or without Barb Loach's help. It's not like he can really expect a fish to do much anyway. He could drop it into some water somewhere maybe, but he needs Poke-mon that can fight on land!!
It's after one more noncommittal loooch from his starter that Crookedkit finally resolves to go through with his plan. He has to catch something eventually, right? And if he uses up all his Poke-balls before he can, someone will notice and give him some help. Probably. Hopefully.
"Okay frog-brain," he grumbles to his floppy companion. "If you're not gonna help then I'm just gonna have to help myself. Come on."
With some effort, he picks up the Barboach in one hand and wobbles up onto his feet. Walking on two Twoleg feet is hard, but Crookedkit thinks he's getting the hang of it even if he's not really graceful with it yet...He thinks briefly of Fleck, back at the barn. It had been nice for someone to help him figure out how to eat better with his jaw in the state it was. And it would sure be nice if someone could do it again for him with this walking thing.
As it is, though, he has no choice but to awkwardly tiptoe through the woods, the slimy cool of Barboach in his hand the most help she seems inclined to offer at the moment.
He encounters no small number of interesting creatures as he goes. Mostly it's rats and birds of different kinds, and at one point Crookedkit nearly trips over what he's sure is some weird pink kit, but he passes by all of them. If he's going to be a great trainer, he figures, he'll need to enlist only the strongest poke-mon to help him, and that means skittish prey and kits simply won't do. Instead he roams around with his ears straining for a familiar sound. The best sound. He would much rather rely on his nose, of course, but Twolegs can't smell anything!! They can barely hear anything too, but at least it will be easier to listen for that familiar babbling of running, splashing water than to try to pick out the subtle difference between normal damp soil and stream-soaked sand.
What Crookedkit finds after almost a whole day of wandering (a day?! he doesn't feel that tired!) is...disappointing. Not a river, not a creek, barely a rivulet. Just a tiny outlet that splashes pitifully down into a muddy fox-sized puddle full of slick, oily silt.
He wrinkles his nose at the sight of it. Maybe for now it's not that bad that he can't smell all the gross details. There's nothing in the water, but Crookedkit is confident that if he waits here, he'll find something worthwhile. The only Poke-mon worth his time are those fitting a great RiverClan warrior, after all. Poke-mon that don't skulk around like ShadowClan schemers or ThunderClan hunters, ones that know water is the key to...well, everything, as far as Crookedkit is concerned.
So his plan is to sit by the water and wait. And wait he does...until finally he surrenders to fatigue and curls up as best he can on the damp leaves. Oblivious to the curious little creature that eventually wanders from the undergrowth to tuck in close beside him, sharing warmth with soft, downy feathers that fill his dreams with happy memories of a warm nursery nest, his mother and brother nestled with him.
VR SAMPLE
Crookedkit scowls with pointed frustration down at his starter, laying uselessly on the grass at his feet. The Pidgey he had hoped to battle flutters its little wings once before flying off into the trees. Frog dirt.
He's supposed to be a trainer. It took some learning to figure out what that meant, but now he's confident that it's kind of like being a warrior - something that, once he figured it out, Crookedkit has been absolutely adamant to pursue and excel at. But how is he supposed to win anything when his only Poke-mon is a boring loach that doesn't do anything?? He can't even ask other trainers for help, all the Twoleg kits he's tried to ask having just attacked him and sent him running with his...well, he doesn't have a tail anymore, but if he did it would have been between his legs.
At the rate things are going, he's tempted to just start throwing his Poke-balls at things, with or without Barb Loach's help. It's not like he can really expect a fish to do much anyway. He could drop it into some water somewhere maybe, but he needs Poke-mon that can fight on land!!
It's after one more noncommittal loooch from his starter that Crookedkit finally resolves to go through with his plan. He has to catch something eventually, right? And if he uses up all his Poke-balls before he can, someone will notice and give him some help. Probably. Hopefully.
"Okay frog-brain," he grumbles to his floppy companion. "If you're not gonna help then I'm just gonna have to help myself. Come on."
With some effort, he picks up the Barboach in one hand and wobbles up onto his feet. Walking on two Twoleg feet is hard, but Crookedkit thinks he's getting the hang of it even if he's not really graceful with it yet...He thinks briefly of Fleck, back at the barn. It had been nice for someone to help him figure out how to eat better with his jaw in the state it was. And it would sure be nice if someone could do it again for him with this walking thing.
As it is, though, he has no choice but to awkwardly tiptoe through the woods, the slimy cool of Barboach in his hand the most help she seems inclined to offer at the moment.
He encounters no small number of interesting creatures as he goes. Mostly it's rats and birds of different kinds, and at one point Crookedkit nearly trips over what he's sure is some weird pink kit, but he passes by all of them. If he's going to be a great trainer, he figures, he'll need to enlist only the strongest poke-mon to help him, and that means skittish prey and kits simply won't do. Instead he roams around with his ears straining for a familiar sound. The best sound. He would much rather rely on his nose, of course, but Twolegs can't smell anything!! They can barely hear anything too, but at least it will be easier to listen for that familiar babbling of running, splashing water than to try to pick out the subtle difference between normal damp soil and stream-soaked sand.
What Crookedkit finds after almost a whole day of wandering (a day?! he doesn't feel that tired!) is...disappointing. Not a river, not a creek, barely a rivulet. Just a tiny outlet that splashes pitifully down into a muddy fox-sized puddle full of slick, oily silt.
He wrinkles his nose at the sight of it. Maybe for now it's not that bad that he can't smell all the gross details. There's nothing in the water, but Crookedkit is confident that if he waits here, he'll find something worthwhile. The only Poke-mon worth his time are those fitting a great RiverClan warrior, after all. Poke-mon that don't skulk around like ShadowClan schemers or ThunderClan hunters, ones that know water is the key to...well, everything, as far as Crookedkit is concerned.
So his plan is to sit by the water and wait. And wait he does...until finally he surrenders to fatigue and curls up as best he can on the damp leaves. Oblivious to the curious little creature that eventually wanders from the undergrowth to tuck in close beside him, sharing warmth with soft, downy feathers that fill his dreams with happy memories of a warm nursery nest, his mother and brother nestled with him.