>CHAPTER 1
Explorer
Sunrise.
Beams of light began to seep through the cracks in the holed wooden boards that made up the ceiling.
The decrepit wooden boards nestled within the recess of the cliffs around them began to warm with the light of day. The singing of distant Wingull echoed through the air.
Aside from the calls of the flying Pokemon, there was the soft symphony of waves crashing onto the shore below. The gentle rhythm of the waters' ebb and flow on the sand below resonated beautifully with the songs from above. A new day had begun.
The gentle tranquility of the dawn was met with the subtle rustling of straw and creaking of old boards. Inside the shack, a subtle stir had begun to join the morning orchestra.
A quick inhale replaced the sounds of rustling and snoring within the cabin, followed by the sound of feet sleepily trudging alongside the floor.
Emerging from the shelter was a sole Pokemon, a young Abra.
After a brief survey of his surroundings, he lazily stumbled back into the cabin. In an air of aloofness and disdain for the mundane, he slowly went through his morning routine.
Surfacing a pot of water from the barely-standing well adjacent to the cabin, stopping for a quick drink and several splashes towards his face, and then a tugging of rope that would send the beaten metal pot back into the earth where it had come from.
Grabbing a small satchel from a surface next to the homely hay sleeping space, the Abra slung the bag over his back and emerged once again from the cabin. It was time for him to hunt for his breakfast.
Along the beach were several berry plants, all glistening with morning dew. The Abra began to pluck them carefully off of their branches, making certain not to take more than necessary. With a steady but courteous hand, the Abra took the berries and tenderly placed them into the bag on his back. It would seem breakfast would be extra decadent today.
Next came the rubbing of sticks together, the embers and sparks giving life to a modest flame. This newly born campfire would serve perfectly to cook the berries, now placed in a small copper pot with some water, into a delicious stew. After a short while, the soupy fruits had formed a nice, clear rind, and the aroma wafted through the air. The Abra took a brief recess into his cabin once again, making sure the fire would be contained properly. Returning with a bowl and a glass, he poured his piping hot berry stew into the cracked porcelain bowl, simultaneously pouring the remaining morning water reserve into the dull glassy cup. Breakfast was served.
And as quickly as it was made, it was devoured. Carefully extinguishing the campfire and gathering the dishes, the Abra headed back inside his abode. Putting his dishes into another basin of water, he paused, looking longingly outside the window of his shack at the sea. Exasperating a brief sigh, the Abra's attention then shifted towards the wall. On it were several scratches and markings, a tally system of sorts. There were at least twenty-nine scratches made into the wall, each scratch growing weaker and more astray as it shifted from left to right.
"It'll be thirty before y'know it, buddy," the Abra murmured to himself.
His tone was cloaked in a healthy mix of cynicism and determination, with a sort of sadness sprinkled throughout. His sight shifted several times from the sea back to the tallies on the wall. Knowing his morning routine was already over, he huffed and lazily hobbled back to his bed.
The sunrise had come and gone, and several hours later it was already almost evening. The soft white clouds and cries of Wingull had been replaced with stillness. Dark clouds swelled in the distance, malicious in nature.
From the stillness came a sudden interruption, several flashes of distant lightning, and roars of thunder.
The Abra quickly jerked up, rudely awakened from his slumber.
After observing the incoming storm, the Abra had begun to pack up various supplies in his satchel, making several trips into a cellar that lied below his cabin. Stockpiling his supplies in order to stay safe during the turbulent weather, he continued to pile his rations into containers and shelves in the cellar below.
The blue sky had almost instantly turned a sickly gray, and the winds had begun to pick up rapidly. Having gotten as much as he could've carried in the short amount of time he had to prepare, the Abra receded into his shelter, shutting the wooden doors behind him.
Rain had begun to rapidly fall from the skies above, flooding the land below. The old shelter faced a battery of wind and rain, barely managing to stay standing. Cursing under his breath, the Abra remained in place as nature took its aggression out on the cabin wall, slamming a perturbed fist into the rotted old wooden boards. Things had begun to pick up almost exponentially, as the gusts of wind became increasingly powerful.
At that moment, a deafening crackle of thunder bellowed, accompanied by the strongest gust of wind yet. The relentless gust managed to send nearly half of the shack into debris, with the rest of it riding the current of the wind into parts unknown. Hearing the destruction from above, the Abra angered, knowing he was powerless to stop his home from being destroyed by this force of nature.
Bad turned worse as water began to pool in the shelter. Cursing again, the Abra once again grabbed his trusty satchel and started to fill it with as much as he could fit. By the time he was finished, the water had risen up to his ankles.
With a breath and a prayer, he flung the cellar doors open, heading out into the wicked winds. One final look back at his barely standing cabin, and he was off.
The torrential downpour had quickly turned the soft soil into thick, gooey mud. His footsteps reverberating against the ground, he ran fast, seeking out higher ground against the rapidly increasing flood.
Making it to a clearing, he observed the beach from before, which was now almost completely covered in water. With a sigh, he returned to his sprint towards safe lands.
An hour had passed of running, with the Abra being deep on the mainland now. The tropical beach climate had turned into a deciduous forest. The rain had also turned into an even harsher slush, making vision ahead anything but possible.
Beginning to accept defeat, he started to slow his pace, beginning to succumb to exhaustion. The sound of footsteps smashing against mud had died down into a solemn trudge.
"So, this is it, huh?" the Abra said to himself with a bleak hopelessness hugging onto his voice.
"Guess I won't make it to thirty months after all."
"Should've been careful what I wished for, huh?"
His tone had started to change from a moan to a roar. He began yelling at the top of his lungs, partially crying out for help and partially cursing out the vice grip that nature had placed on him.
"I never should've come to this place. I should've just wasted the rest of my life back home..."
"Are you happy? Is that what you want me to say?"
"Well, too bad! I'll be taking that resentment to my grave!"
"TO! MY! GRAVE!"
With that final scream, he eased back into a gentle sob. The elements from above covered his face, making it hard to tell that he was weeping in the first place. Just how he liked it. After all, nobody could ever see him that way, lest he be in grave danger.
"Just because I'm giving up now doesn't mean you were right," he said to himself in between sobs.
Tripping over a rock in his angered stupor, he fell not on wet mud but on cold stone. Blind, stumbling, and weakened, he kept trudging forward. The heavy rain and sleet began to stop only due to the stone ceiling overhead. He had unknowingly entered a cave, serving as shelter from the wicked weather outside. After several steps into the depths of the cavern, he finally stopped, his legs refusing to carry him any further.
"Haah.... hahh......"
His breath was heavier than ever before, and his breathing was shallow. He was also frigid, shivering like a leaf. He went from a seated position to a prone lie, and finally a fetal curl.
"So... tired... so... cold... can't... move..." he exhaled, in between irregular breaths.
There was no sound but the echo of his breathing throughout the cavern, seemingly a death knell for the Abra.
But just as he began to let go, he heard something.
"elp.......... one....."
A cold, tired voice echoed through the cavern. But it was not his. He was not alone.
"any....... here....."
Summoning what little energy he had left, he called back. He could not speak any words, only a guttural roar.
"that... hear..... where..."
Trying to communicate, he continued to yell and roar, thrashing about on the floor, trying to make as much noise as he could. The second voice had begun to grow louder, more frequent, and more clear.
"Where... are... you?"
With as much energy as he could muster, he let out a final yell.
"Here!!!!" he proclaimed.
A deafening silence. Then a reply.
"Where.... here?"
"HERE!!!!" once again, he replied.
"WHERE IS HERE?"
He couldn't reply any further. But he didn't have to, for he suddenly felt something brush against his body. It had a soft, fur-like texture that was warm to the touch, albeit not as warm as it should be.
"Ah... here... Here is here..." the voice replied.
"Can... you speak? Are... you still... alive?"
The Abra tried to reply, but no words would come out. All he could summon was a slight jerk of his body.
"I'll... take that as a no... and a yes..."
"I don't know who you are... but you must be more hurt than I am. And you feel colder than the weather outside."
"Just... give me some time... Rest here with me."
The Abra suddenly felt a warm presence next to him.
As warm as the sunbeams streaming through the cracks of his former roof.
As warm as the fire he had cooked his breakfast on and as warm as the food that had once filled his belly.
With a final twitch, everything went black—blacker than before—and all that he could hear was now silent.
What had felt like an eternity of nothingness was suddenly broken by a dull, warm feeling.
The Abra began to rustle around, making sure not to stray too far from the newfound warmth that surrounded him. He could feel his fingers and toes once again, and his strength had begun to return to him, but not completely.
Almost automatically, he found his mouth moving and making sounds yet again.
"Wh.... where am I..."
His query was met with another sound of rustling and scrubbing against stone. A distant sound of storms beyond had filled his ears, and then a reply.
"You're... awake?" The voice returned. It was a tense voice, filled with a rich timbre but still unmistakably feminine.
It was another Pokemon, for sure, he thought.
"Barely... is this a dream? Where am I? I can't... open my eyes..." the Abra murmured.
"Take it easy, now. Don't go passing out on me again." The feminine voice reprimanded, with a hint of sorrow and concern threaded through it. It was hard to decipher, but it was certainly there.
"Can you tell me your name?" she asked.
"My... my name..." the Abra drooled.
"My name... is Al..."
"Al?" the female stated inquisitively.
"Al... Short for Alphonse."
"Well, Al, call me Beth. Short for Bethel. I'm the one who saved your life." the feminine voice chided.
"My life, huh..." Alphonse thought to himself.
"Thanks," he proclaimed blankly.
"Don't mention it. I'm sure you would've done the same for me."
Alphonse thought to himself again.
"Would I have?"
Here he was, barely clinging to life. He had lost what little he had originally had, and here he was with a complete stranger, not knowing anything but their name. If the shoe was on the other foot, would he truly have helped out?
Before he could think any further, his thoughts were interrupted again by the female Pokemon's voice, now tender.
"I can't even see in front of me, but I'm assuming you can't either. That storm outside has to have been going on for hours now. But you must've been out in it way longer than me."
"Do you have a death wish or something? What were you doing out there?". There was a roughness to her question, but her voice remained as tender as before.
"Don't answer that. Regardless, it seems we'll be safe here until the storm blows over. As long as you stay near me, your hypothermia should wear off pretty quickly, and then we can go home."
"I don't have a home anymore." Alphonse coldly replied, as cold as his temperature.
"Ah, you're some sort of vagabond, then?" Bethel asked.
"My latest home blew away during the storm," answered Alphonse.
"I see. Sorry to hear that." Bethel sighed.
Alphonse paused. He didn't know what else to say. It was sobering to admit, even though reality had barely set in upon him yet in his sickly haze. His thoughts were racing as fast as they could in the little consciousness he was in. Luckily, Bethel was quick with another question.
"I don't expect an answer, but if you know when you're able to walk again, please let me know. I have some Pokemon waiting for me, and I don't want to worry them any longer than I have to."
Bethel paused and squinted outside of the cave, running calculations in her head. After a moment of pondering, she spoke again.
"The storm should probably be over in an hour now. At least, that's what was forecast. Do you think you'll be okay by then?"
Alphonse began to think up an answer, but suddenly his mouth took a u-turn and he replied before he could think of what he was saying.
"I hope so. But please don't leave me so soon."
An awkward pause occupied the cavern, but Bethel once again was quick to cut it short.
"Alright, I won't. But you'll have to make it worth my time." Bethel decreed. Her words didn't match her tone, for there was a genuine sincerity and desire to protect the Abra she had found herself sitting beside.
"I'd like to know more about the Pokemon I rescued. It'll give me something to talk about when I get back home."
"Well, I'm an-" Alphonse started to elaborate.
"I meant your story. Not what you are, but who you are."
"..."
Alphonse went blank. It was a short pause, as he suddenly found himself talking again, automatically.
"Yeah, I'm something of a refugee, I guess. The land I came from was... rough, to put it lightly." Alphonse paused briefly to gather his next words.
"It was a lawless land. There were a lot of bad Pokemon and outlaws. I had to do whatever I could to survive. That's why I came here. I wanted to get away from it all. But it seems like trouble follows me wherever I go."
Bethel patiently waited for the audible cue to reply.
"I had an opportunity to get away from it all, and I took it. But..."
"But what?" Bethel asked, concerned.
"Well, it's a pretty long story... and I don't know if I have enough time or energy to go through it all." Alphonse murmured back.
Bethel could sense the pain in Alphonse's voice. Deciding not to prod any further, she decided to change gears.
"You don't have to go through it right now. Tell you what? I'll tell you some stories instead. How's that sound?"
Alphonse felt a slight smile begin to crack through his lips.
"I'd love that."
"Excellent. Well, there was this one time..." Bethel began to trail off.
About an hour in, Alphonse could stay awake no longer, and he fell back into a deep sleep. Bethel, sensing her conversation partner was no longer cognizant, decided it was almost time to move on.
A little more than an hour passed, and Alphonse felt himself regain consciousness yet again. Stretching his body and feeling muscles he had briefly forgotten existed, he began to move and groove on his own once more.
Now finally able to see in front of him, he looked around at his surroundings. The cave that had sheltered him wasn't that deep, and outside, the storm had died down, and a calm lull now stood where the raging winds once did.
He easily stood himself up and brushed some debris off. Looking around, he saw his satchel on the floor. It was suspiciously empty, and in the place of his supplies was a note.
Confusion fell over him like a wave. Did all his stuff fall out of his bag as he desperately searched for safety? He was in such a daze that he would hardly recognize if anything had happened in that moment. His confusion gradually turned to suspicion. Where was Bethel, the Pokemon that had saved him? She mentioned something about heading out before him, but could she have taken his supplies? Was she just distracting him to rob him blind and leave him in the dust?
The confusion rapidly turned to anger. If she wanted his supplies, why did she even help him in the first place?
Between angry hands, he picked up the note, now shaking with rage instead of bitter cold. After looking over the note several times, he realized it was actually a map with some crude directions scrawled throughout the page.
Having been left with nothing but an empty bag and a vague set of directions, he crumpled the paper and threw it into his bag. Slinging the bag over his shoulder once again, he rose up and slowly emerged from the cave.
It may not have had a true purpose, but it was something to do. So he set off in search of the Pokemon who had saved his life and whatever might come next.
The air was cold yet humid. Looking around as he ventured beyond the cave and into the forest, Alphonse took note of the damage of the storm that had nearly taken his life. Many trees were toppled over, branches snapped, and the forest floor was flooded with dark, murky water and residual black slush. It had been a mild winter, but it seems like nature saved all of its wild force for one final storm. To him, it signified the beginning of springtime, the cruel moment where a Pokemon must awaken from their hibernation and gaze out at the barren wasteland before them. Not totally recovered from his wounds, he took his time strolling through the ruined forest, with nothing but a vague sense of direction as to where he was going.
Although he knew where to go, he was not entirely sure what awaited him at his destination. Would it be a small town, filled with standoffish inhabitants who would see him as a troublemaker? Or would it be a dungeon filled with territorial Pokemon that would attack without hesitation? Or maybe it was nothing, just another cruel joke being played on him by the universe.
Normally, Alphonse would stop venturing and go back to his home, but he felt something that he hadn't felt in years—a drive. There was a hunger, both physical and mental, to figure out why he was still alive. And most importantly, a mission to figure out who this mysterious "Bethel" Pokemon was.
Time passed, and the only enemy Alphonse ran into was himself. Still plagued by questions and uncertainty, it struck a blow in him deeper than any wounds inflicted on him during his wrestle with the forces of nature. The forest became less and less thick, and newer, younger trees gradually replaced the giant wise oaks from before. Until suddenly, he had emerged from the forest, looking out below, atop a high cliff.
Alphonse stopped and took in his surroundings. His eye level met the horizon, and he saw more ridges and mountains in the distance. But below him was a winding path into rolling hills and plains. Alphonse wasn't sure how much time had passed, but it had to have been at least a day, as the sun had finished its ascension into the sky yet again, standing directly in the center. It had to be early in the afternoon, by his calculations. With the now-intense sunlight blanketing the landscape, it was hard to tell if any lights or signs of civilization were hidden among the hills. But with his stomach growling and his mind still racing, he continued his stroll down the winding path from the cliff, leading him into the heartlands below him.
The walk downhill took much less time than he expected, and he wandered through the plains, occasionally unraveling the paper containing directions to double-check his pathing. Beginning to feel a bit weak from hunger, his spirits began to rise as he saw smoke in the distance, a common sign of camps out in wild country, or better yet, a village. He had never ventured this far out from the beach, but even during his desperate jog, he occasionally stopped and took in his surroundings. Even with the situation so dire, he found himself enthralled by the natural beauty of the world. It filled him with a certain hope, a will to be.
But as he now began to approach the smoke lines on the horizon, he felt anxiety rise up in him once again. What if this was a trap? Or, even worse, hostile territory? Still, he had come this far, and it would be pointless to stop now. So he traveled onward towards his unknown destination.
It was about thirty minutes into his jog through the hills that he saw a sign. Noticing the sign, he diverged from his path to read the text on it. The letters were old and faded, but he could make out the gist of them.
"ARCADE, UP AHEAD"
"EXPLORERS WELCOME"
"TROUBLEMAKERS PROHIBITED"
Judging from the sign, it seemed like a settlement was ahead, and not far off either. His fears quickly resolved, but as quickly as they washed away, new doubts crept up in his head. He would have to explain his situation to even more strange Pokemon, and he'd have no idea how they'd react. But once again, being more adverse to a life back in the wilderness, he pressed forward.
Alphonse began walking up to a tall tower, a gatehouse of sorts. He kept the little wits that he had left and pressed forward.
Suddenly, a voice called out to him from the unknown.
"Halt! State your purpose!"
Alphonse was slightly taken aback. He didn't even know the answer to that one. But he figured it would look worse if he said nothing, so his mouth acted with the first thought that came to his mind.
"Uhm... explorer. Exploring."
Alphonse was met with a deafening silence. Had he said something wrong? Or were they calling his bluff? He certainly didn't match his statement with a lot of confidence.
"Proceed!"
Alphonse jumped back as the gate rolled up. Was it truly that easy to get in? This has to be some sort of trap, there's no way. But even with doubt clouding his mind, his feet led him forward.
After passing through the gatehouse, Alphonse walked down the main street of the town, which he presumed to be known as Arcade. Oddly enough, he did not see any other Pokemon on his voyage. Where could they all be? Even the guard didn't seem to come out and greet him, let alone really hold him up at all.
With a rumble of his stomach and the scent of fresh food wafting through the air, his thoughts were cut off. His feet began to work alongside his growling stomach, as he had not eaten or drank anything in a substantial amount of time. It led him towards a homely-looking building, one he had presumed to be a tavern or an inn of some sort. Before he could hesitate, he swung the door open and headed inside.
Oddly enough, he was once again met with nothing but emptiness. All the seats at the bar were empty, but there were signs of recent use and traffic throughout the building anyway. Just what is going on in this town?
His investigations were quickly interrupted by a gruff, twangy voice calling to him.
"Now, what do we have here?"
Alphonse leapt back. He was totally caught off guard and had no idea what would come next. He brought himself into a fighting stance, his eyes darting around the once-thought-empty building.
"Settle down, kiddo. I mean no harm," the voice reassured.
From the shadows emerged a Pokemon he had never seen before. The Pokemon was definitely an old timer and seemed pretty relaxed in nature. So Alphonse began to let some of his guard down.
"Who are you? What is this place?" Alphonse barked.
"Well, you happen to be in a bar, kid," the old gentleman replied.
"And me? I reckon that answer wouldn't interest you much, now."
Alphonse growled. Just who was this guy, and why was he the only one in this ghost town?
"Get this old timer; I'm not playing around, I'm-"
"Yer looking for something. Ain'tcha?"
Alphonse was taken aback.
"Now, I ain't a psychic type, but I know a young man in search of something when I see 'em. And I'll tell you what, what you're looking for likely ain't here," the old gentlemen proclaimed.
"And I'm sure you're wonderin' where everyone headed off to. They're all gonna be at the town square. Big commotion goin' on."
The old Pokemon took a break from speaking to swill what they had in their cup. Gently stirring it around in their hands, they then took another healthy chug.
"Where's the town square?" Alphonse inquired, still half-ready for a surprise attack.
"Keep followin' that main road. Y' can't miss it. And I reckon the festivities will be starting soon too." whistled the older Pokemon.
"Run along now. And hey, come on back to the bar here tonight. I'd like t' talk with ya s'more."
"Yeah, sure." Alphonse shot back.
"Thanks for the directions, I guess."
Not letting the old Pokemon out of his sight, Alphonse backed up out of the saloon until he was out the doors and back on the main road. He then took an all-out sprint back towards the road.
Alphonse realized he probably should've stopped and seen if he could've gotten something to eat at the saloon, but he was more interested in finding out what this "commotion" was. As he got closer and closer to the heart of the village, he began seeing more Pokemon crowded around what appeared to be a stage. Pushing his way through the crowd, he looked at the center of the stage. Upon it, he observed three more Pokemon that were also foreign to him. He realized in that moment how long it had been since he even saw another Pokemon, especially so many Pokemon he had never met before.
The commotion of the crowd suddenly fell to a hush, and attention was drawn to the stage. One of the three Pokemon had begun to come forward. He also noticed they all had strange tools with them.
"Ladies and gents, we're honored to be out here with you all!"
A roar erupted throughout the formerly silent crowd, rousing every Pokemon around.
The three Pokemon settled the crowd down and then took turns speaking in left-to-right order.
"As I'm sure you all know, I'm R, for Rillaboom!"
"And I'm O, for Obstagoon!
"And last but not least, it's me, T, for Toxtricity!"
And then, in unison with the screaming crowd, they all cried out:
"And, we!"
"Are!"
"R.O.T.!"
Alphonse felt himself covering his ears, as the crowd had begun yelling twice as loud. Their yelling was confusing to him, but it was clear it came from admiration, not frustration.
Then suddenly, amongst the screaming cries of adoring Pokemon, came a new sound. There was a rhythm to it, a beat, and vocals he could hardly make out. Alphonse then realized what was going on. These Pokemon were musicians.
Alphonse had come across some musicians before in his travels, but never any like these. The ones he had seen were often solo and played a single instrument. But the ones before him now had tools—no, instruments—that he had never seen before in his life. And the sound he heard was out of this world.
It was a totally foreign experience for him. But he knows one thing for sure: he liked what he heard.
Many Pokemon in the crowd began to mouth the words alongside the vocalist, which appears to be the Obstagoon in the center. Many others began to move their bodies to the sound of the music, which Alphonse assumed was some sort of funky dance. It was all so unknown to him, but the good vibes were infectious. Alphonse quickly found himself dancing alongside the rest of the crowd, something he'd never thought he'd be caught doing. He was in a sort of trance, unable to move on his own free will. He didn't seem to mind it too much, though.
Several songs rocked off the stage into the audience, and Alphonse had forgotten everything that had worried him up until this point. He felt a strange sense of relaxation that he had never felt before in his life.
Several more songs were played, and the crowd eventually began to tire out. It was well past daylight now, and the moonlight reflected nicely off the instruments played by the band of Pokemon. After a final encore and despite the begging of the audience, the festivities finally came to an appropriate conclusion.
As Pokemon began to disperse from the crowd and head back to their homes and businesses, Alphonse felt the rhythmic trance that had taken over his body for the past few hours slowly die down, and his exhaustion returned to him threefold. He began to walk towards the stage, but was stopped as he suddenly bumped into a small feline Pokemon.
"Hey, watch where you're going, bumpkin!"
Alphonse, still coming off his high, l ooked around, then realized the Pokemon was talking to him.
It was also a Pokemon he had recognized the species of, a young female Litten.
"I take it you guys don't use your eyes out here, huh?!" the fiery Litten exclaimed to Alphonse.
"Ah, get lost!" Alphonse retorted back.
The Litten gave him a dirty look and then headed back towards the stage, beyond the curtain. Just as she had appeared, she was gone.
Alphonse then felt his stomach growl with the most intense hunger pang he had felt yet. He made the decision to head back to the saloon from before, just as the old Pokemon had suggested earlier.
Alphonse followed a crowd, and his nose, back to the saloon from before. He noticed a sign that he hadn't noticed before atop the doors of the saloon.
"THE WATERING HOLE," it read.
Heading back inside, it was an entirely different environment from before. At first glance, not a single seat was open, and the bar counter and various tables were piled with food and drink.
Alphonse then saw, out of the corner of his eye, a Pokemon motioning him in their direction. The vague shape of the Pokemon was familiar. Upon inspecting closer, Alphonse recognized the Pokemon as the old gentlemen from before.
"Pull up a chair, kiddo. You look famished."
Alphonse, too hungry to object, obliged the old Pokemon's request, pulled up a stool, and sat down at the table.
"Now, what's your name, kid?"
"Ah.. Al. Alphonse in full." Alphonse mumbled.
"Nice t' meetcha. I'm Lazlo, the Smeargle. And feel free to help yourself to the food here, it's on me."
Alphonse nodded with gratitude, and began filling his cheeks with the delicious food and drink laid out before him.
"Y' probably ain't seen most of my kin before. But that's fine." Lazlo added.
Alphonse looked over at Lazlo in between bites and chews, barely finding time to breathe.
"Easy there, kiddo. No one's gonna take it from ya."
Alphonse paused with his mouth full of food, blinked, and swallowed. He then opened his mouth to reply.
"Ah, sorry. I just... haven't eaten for, well, I don't know how long now. Let alone a meal as good as this." Alphonse replied cheekily.
"'S fine. Just don't go chokin' on me now." Lazlo chuckled.
"Y' definitely look like you've been through it. Tell ya what—you tell me all about it, and I'll make it worth your while." Lazlo added on. There was a softer look in his eyes as he spoke now.
"Hm?" Alphonse murmured through munches.
"Why do you want to know?"
Lazlo paused, as if almost taking offense to the question. Then he closed his eyes and chuckled to himself again.
Moments later, he reopened them, this time with a twinkle of light shining through his left eye.
"Ah, right. I'll put it plainly: - us Smeargles tend to have an artistic integrity in all 'f us."
Alphonse stared plainly between bites back at Lazlo.
"Except for a few of us, like me, I reckon. So I compensate by being artistic in other ways."
"I'm somethin' of a writer. Except I don't write up fairy tales, I like to tell the tales of Pokemon like you."
"Like me? What's that supposed to mean?" Alphonse scowled, defensively.
"Well, random Pokemon showed up here, definitely not for the concert. Looks like a total mess. Starving, wounded, and on the edge. There's gotta be something they went through that's worth hearin' about." Lazlo casually barked back.
"You don't gotta come around just yet, I suppose. Just get this, we'll treat it as an IOU. I'll make sure you get your health back, but I'm not letting you go anywhere 'til I get my story."
"And don't think about sneaking out. Cus I'll find ya." Lazlo proclaimed almost menacingly.
Alphonse looked puzzled. Just who was the Lazlo character, and what's their goal here? It didn't add up, Pokemon didn't just help other Pokemon out without wanting something in return. And sure, he wants a story or whatever, but there's nothing valuable about that. It made no sense to Al.
"...Fine. But only until I get back on my feet." Alphonse agreed.
Lazlo closed his eyes and flashed a sly grin.
"Excellent!" he exclaimed.
Alphonse continued his meal, with Lazlo taking an occasional sip from his mug, rarely touching his food. The occasional Pokemon would come over to check on how the meal was, and if the two of them needed anything else, their hospitality was totally unknown to Alphonse. But Alphonse figured that as long as Lazlo handled it, he didn't have to get too involved. For now, at least.
Afterwards, Alphonse finished his meal, even taking some from Lazlo's plate. Lazlo of course, was okay with this. After Alphonse was full, Lazlo paid for the two's meal, and the two new acquaintances walked out of the saloon and back over to the inn that Lazlo had been holed up in. Walking through the lobby and hearing several conversations reliving tonight's musical event, the two arrived at Lazlo's room at the inn.
"Feel free t' throw your stuff anywhere. And the bed in the corner's yours." Lazlo calmly stated.
"I actually don't have anything but the bag on my back."
"My supplies were stolen from me not too long ago. And before that, everything else I had was blown away in the storm." Alphonse stated, barely able to hold back his frustration.
Lazlo sighed, looking over at his own bag and counting over his supply of Poke.
"'S no problem. We'll get you squared away at the market first thing tomorrow." Lazlo mentioned.
"Or we can go find the thief who stole my stuff and get it back." Alphonse said, briefly regaining his fire.
"Heh. You're a wily one, ain'tcha?" Lazlo smiled.
"Regardless, there's nothing we can do about it now. Try to get some proper rest, and we'll decide in the mornin'."
Shortly after saying that, Lazlo curled up into a ball and passed out stone cold. Alphonse, impressed with his new friend's ability to quickly relax himself, then passed his attention towards a nearby window in the room, staring out at the stars.
"It's been a pretty eventful day. Or days. I'm not even sure," Alphonse found himself thinking.
"And if anything is certain after today, this continent is nothing like back home."
Alphonse then walked over to his bed, and lied down.
"But I suppose that's a good thing."
"..."
"I've still got a lot of burning questions to be answered. It's going to be hard for me to get to sleep so soon."
"Who was that Pokemon that saved me?"
"What's the deal with this Lazlo guy? And those Pokemon playing music together?"
"And what was that Litten's problem from earlier? Everyone else here seems so... neutral, except for her."
"I guess I have no choice but to keep going forward. I mean, it's gotten me this far already."
Alphonse sighed and closed his eyes. One last stretch, and he began to doze off.