Markus in Driftveil

This is a fanfic that I started a long time ago and haven't been updating a lot. It's based in the canon of a roleplay that I've been co-GMing for over TWO YEARS, and I want to use it as a prelude to the sequel, when we get to that point. Since the story requires elements from the Hoenn games (Team Magma, especially), and since I haven't completed any 3rd gen game, I've obviously had to stop and play Ruby to get up to speed. Chances are the remakes will be out before I complete this fanfic.

Anyway, I'm posting the first two chapters here for a bit of feedback. The only other person I've shown this to is the other GM of the roleplay. I'd like feedback on how I set the scene and establish characters (who obviously get more development and backstory as the fanfic progresses), considering that both my co-GM and I know a lot about this Pokémon universe, but nobody else does. Sure, it's mostly for the benefit of players of the roleplay, but I'd still like some feedback on the general audience.

I'll only be posting the first two chapters, and no more. I owe this fanfic to the players who have kept this roleplay open for so long, so they will see it whole first.

Prologue​

Route 6​

A lone Venipede scuttled out from under its home of dried, fruitless undergrowth and into the harsh daytime sun. What it was looking for was a mystery, since there was nothing on the hard, dry ground to find. However, it had made itself vulnerable to predators, like the motionless Tranquill that sat poised in the dead tree above. In an instant it swooped down and flipped the bug over onto its back and began pecking at its unprotected underside. The Venipede could do nothing but wriggle its tiny legs at the attacker, not even roll back onto its belly and stand a fighting chance. The Tranquill continued pecking at its new meal, intent on killing it before carrying it back to its nest; it could still crawl away otherwise. Just a few more jabs and-

The Tranquill's neck suffered a swift blow and broke, killing the bird instantly. It collapsed on top of the still squirming bug, only to be picked up by the legs by the lone Bisharp responsible for its death. It was a clean kill; no struggle, no resistance, it didn't even see its death coming. Just a well-taken opportunity. Now, he had dinner. The Bisharp looked down at the Venipede that had served so well as a distraction. It rocked itself back and forth until it rolled over and scurried back into its sheltered home. It was fortunate that it did, because the Bisharp would have offered no assistance otherwise; they were not known for compassion. But perhaps that bug would grow into a more versatile creature now that it had learned to stay out of sight.

The Bisharp turned and began retreading its steps back to his home. Literally. He took care to step on his existing footprints to create confusing, direction ambiguous tracks. It was never his intention to spill the bird's blood. That would lead a bright red, scented trail back to his home that was far too easy to track. Surviving meant more than just finding food and shelter, you had to take care in everything that you did, or else you woke up to the sight of bared fangs and red, glowing eyes, and you became the food. Such had been the way of the Pokémon world for ten years, to the month.

A decade ago, the world was what people would now call paradise: lush, happy and safe. Young trainers battling for the fun of it, and not for their lives. Pokémon appearing but not proving much of a threat. Grass and trees a vibrant green and the water a cool blue.

But then the world changed. Ten years ago, a bright, white light came from the direction of Mount Silver, the mountain that divided the Kanto and Johto regions. At first it was just a small glow, not even visible two miles away. But then it grew, harsher and brighter until it spread beyond the shores of Kanto and Johto and engulfed the entire world, blinding both human and Pokémon alike. It was terrifying, but not as much as what it left behind. For when the light finally faded, the whole planet had been transformed into an endless wasteland. The sun burned with great intensity on the dry, arid land. The oceans and lakes had become polluted and rancid, and water type Pokémon were rendered unable to live in their natural habitat. The rain, when seldom it fell, was filthy before it hit the ground. The very soil became infertile, preventing plants and trees from growing, and grass type Pokémon slowly grew sick and weak. Pokémon all over the world began to grow feral, becoming dangerous and untameable, and making travel in the wild incredibly hazardous.

The Bisharp's path took him south east, towards Driftveil city. The dead, leafless trees made the route look like a daytime graveyard, broken up occasionally by branches of the river that trickled down from the mountains, still somewhat clean. Some branches ended in small dams that the townspeople pumped water out of for use in the town. Some bridges remained from the days before what came to be known as The Change, while others had been rebuilt from the dead pines. The Bisharp ignored all of them, wading some distance up or down stream to throw off trackers and coming to where his footprints ended on his way up the route.

The Change had not only seen the partial destruction of the world, it had been the catalyst for the fall of much of the world's society. Crimes of all kinds became incredibly common; robberies, murder, rape and gang activity became prevalent markers of human activity for a short while after The Change, and remained a large part of the world for the years that followed. But as always, people tried to rebuild, and for the most part succeeded. While the dangers of the post-Change world had separated and isolated many of the towns and cities, they had become self-sufficient, self-running communities, where cooperation was strong. The Bisharp was headed towards one of those communities. Driftveil city, once a bustling seaside port, tourist hotspot and the source of most of Unova's rare minerals, was now a quiet, strong town. Bordered by mountains on the north side and by the sea – while green, foamy and partially receded – on the east and south sides, it was easily defendable. The western entrance was the only one that sported a walled gate, ten feet tall, made entirely of sharpened logs, and complete with a watch tower at the northern end. As the Bisharp drew near, he came under scrutiny of the guards on watch duty. Recognising him as one of the resident's Pokémon – the fact that he held a dead bird by the legs being a strong indicator – they opened one half of the gate to let him through. Once he passed through its sanction, it closed behind him, shutting out the threats of the post-Change world.

Chapter 1​

Driftveil City​

A bonfire of sparks sprayed out of the contact point between the metal and the grinding wheel. Hidden behind the visor of the black welding mask, the craftsman's eyes were fully focused on the L-shaped piece of steel he slowly turned against the wheel that spun fast enough to tear flesh off bones in a heartbeat. It was no time or place to be absent-minded; a single slip or loss of focus meant a lost finger, damaged beyond the help of any Pokémon's healing abilities. Thankfully, not a single digit had been lost to the grinding wheel, or any piece of machinery in the forge, for that matter. The entire ground floor of what used to be a small industrial workshop was an exposition of metalworking tools and machines. A lathe, milling machine, drill press, power hammer, contact wheel, water cooled glass cutter and a heat treating oven were just some of the machines in the collection that lined the edges of the room. Most of the floor space was taken by work tables and the coal burning forge. Rows of tool holders lined the edges of the tables, stuffed with dozens of hammers, tongs and files of a plethora of different shapes and sizes.

The craftsman finished grinding the piece of steel and turned off the grinding wheel. Even though the motor stopped the wheel still spun, only gradually slowing down. He walked away from the machine and lifted up his mask for some fresh air and an unobstructed look at the job he'd done, revealing a lean, forty year old face with the age lines to vouch, a grey stubbly beard, and fierce, bronze eyes that had seen more than their fair share of grief. His hair, while streaked with grey, was a dark maroon, and was swept back under the straps of the welding mask. Satisfied with his work on the metal bit, he brought it over to the project that sat half-way under the garage roller door that comprised the open front wall of the workplace. Above it, a sign reading "Mark's Metals" hung lopsidedly on two chains.

Not long after he moved to Unova Mark became a swordsmith working in Driftveil. While its former trades and exports had ceased, people still mined for metals and minerals and this served to be a great way to come across the materials he needed to sustain his career choice. The world was more dangerous and while guns were plentiful and often used, swords were becoming more and more popular with travelers and town guards alike. There was simplicity in using a sword; sticking your opponent or prey with the sharp end was a more natural reflex then aiming and shooting. There was an art to using a blade, and variety in both its making and use. Best of all, swords never ran out of ammo, didn't come in many parts and were relatively easy to repair, provided someone with the right know-how was around. But given that Mark's knowledge of metalworking far extended swords and was by extension far more useful than just for making weapons, he worked as the town's metalsmith in general.

The project he was working on was just a small repair to a traveler's bike rig. It was a wooden platform, a metre squared, with a metal frame and a bike wheel on either side. A tall metal rod stood vertically at the front of the platform and an armature attached the miniature trailer to the traveler's bike so that while he rode, his Magmar could stand on the trailer and shoot fireballs at any attackers. Mark had scoffed at the idea that he would manage to get a bike and a trailer through Chargestone cave, since that was where he was next headed, but the traveler insisted that it was easily doable. Incidentally, riding it through a cave was what damaged the trailer in the first place; the left wheel's truck had bent out of shape, necessitating repairs. A part of Mark's job was learning what his customers did with the tools he made and fixed for them so he knew how to properly help them. Even though the stories weren't often interesting, it meant that he did the best job he could. That way, they wouldn't be coming back for the same repairs over and over again.

He knelt down by the trailer and began bolting on the bracket. In addition to the single unhurt bracket that remained on the trailer, Mark had made three more: one to replace the bent bracket and two more to make both trucks more durable. Before long he had remounted the fallen wheel and the trailer was fixed. The traveler it belonged to was out exploring town, so that left him with some spare time.

Working the forge was no job for one man. However, like nearly every other person in town, he had his Pokémon to help. His Torkoal, Lairon, Probopass and Bisharp all pulled some kind of duty in running the business. Torkoal, the eldest of all his Pokémon, sometimes acted like a small furnace and filled in for the forge itself when coal was running low. She could reduce the contents of a smelting pot placed in the hole at the top of her shell to liquid within an hour, and when it was time to dig for coal to use as fuel, she helped. Lairon helped dig for iron and other metals and gems. He also served as a great way of getting rid of all the metal shavings that littered the entire ground floor of the building. Simply collect them and not only was the forge cleaner, Lairon was well fed. Collecting them was an easy task with Probopass at hand. A single lap of the forge and every single loose scrap of metal was collected in his bushy, metallic moustache. Naturally it had to be scraped off his enormous nose frequently, else it became far too big. But every time Probopass 'shaved', Lairon was served a handy meal. Probopass's magnetic qualities were also incredibly useful for locating deposits of iron and sucking up any remaining ore left over after Lairon had dug for it.

Bisharp was the only Pokémon Mark acquired in Unova; the others were all native to Hoenn, just like he was. He worked as Mark's assistant in the forge, helping to make swords and tools, shape metal, and in general run the forge with him. Before him, however, Mark had a Gallade working in that position. Also native to Hoenn, he was the final addition to Mark's team before they left for Unova, before even The Change occurred. But despite all they had gone through together, Mark had to let him go, for his own good...

The clack clack of metallic footsteps caused Mark to look up. A second later, Bisharp appeared by the entrance to the forge, holding up a dead Tranquill by the legs.
"Fantastic." Mark said, his voice low and gruff. "I just finished up here," he indicated the trailer, "so we can get straight to plucking it."

* * *​

Dinner rarely varied from roast Tranquill. If they were lucky, an Unfezant crossed their paths. If they were really lucky, their eggs were available, too. The Change had all but decimated the presence of vegetables or fruit, so an all-meat diet had to be as healthy as possible to make up for the lack of plant matter. Mark's body was lean and strong from working in the forge, but his belly was still a little round from before he learned to take the skin off the birds. The people of Driftveil attempted to rear livestock and grow vegetables from whatever resources they could utilise, but there simply wasn't enough to go around. And so, Mark and Bisharp ate Tranquill yet again that night. Torkoal simply needed a drink of water and a fresh lump of charcoal in her shell. Lairon ate from a dish of scrap metal that had been collected over the course of the day, and Probopass didn't eat.

When the day finally drew to a close, Mark pulled down the roller door to the forge and headed to bed. Both he and Bisharp slept upstairs in separate rooms while the others had sleeping areas on the ground floor. Probopass took an empty corner while Lairon and Torkoal nestled into their own small beds and promptly fell asleep. Tomorrow would be a busy day; they were going prospecting.