Thread: Wrath of the Gods

Wrath of the Gods - Chapter One: Rebellion

Intended Capture: Bronzor
Approx. length: 12.000 chars
Author's note: This story was so fun to write so far, the first chapter is done and awaiting grading, and it is loosely based on the film, Clash of the Titans.

A chilling draft blew along the coastline towards the band of rebels on this night. The night that would be remembered hundreds of years in the future. The night the Gods were challenged. A band of no more than twenty Pokemon marched along chanting words merrily as they headed towards the Church of the Queen of the Sea. As they approached the wind died down and the night seemed to grow even darker, nearing pitch-black. The light of their flaming torches illuminated the brave Pokemon on their way. Then, the leader stopped and raised a stumpy arm with three broad, sharp leaves at the end. His followers stopped and held their breath as their leader, the almighty Shiftry began to speak.

“Blessed Pokemon. You know why you are here. I know why we are here. Tonight is the night that will end the tyranny of the suppressing gods,” he roared in a depp, unsettling voice.

The surrounding Pokemon, of many different races stared at him with admiration in their eyes as they cheered. The Shiftry raised both his hands and pointed at the wooden door of the church that was rattling as the wind pressed against it.

“Are you ready?” he asked to the sounds of Pokemon clapping and whooping excitedly, yet a hint of nervousness was evident. “Then… we shall begin!” the Shiftry roared as he hurled his flaming branch at the church. Immediately afterwards there was a flurry of flying embers as more and more lit branches were thrown at the ancient Church. The magenta flames licked at the rottig wood and within mere minutes the shrine to the Water Lord was blazing animatedly. The Pokemon started cheering and stamping their feet in happiness. A shrill hiss filled the air, sending shivers down the spines of the Pokemon.

“W-what was that?” a black, mutli-patterned snake said, slithering to the front. “Nothing, nothing at all,” the Shiftry said. “Cheer up men, we have done the impossi” but he was cut short by a blood-curdling scream that seemed to shake the night air. The slated roof of the church exploded as an army of vicious, mutated Zubats shot out. They poured out in their thousands, some hiding among the billowing, thick, black smoke from the church. The night sky filled with blue as a relentless swarm of bats from hell shoved out. They all spun around to stare at the scared Pokemon, simultaneously, and let out one unanimous, high-pitched scream that caused the Pokemon’s hands or tendrils to raise to their ears as crimson blood seeped out of each and every one of their eardrums.

The Zubat all parted as a massive swirling shape of darkness stretched out around the Zubat. The spinning black substance twisted and turned until it was far larger than the Church. Stopping at around a hundred feet tall the black mass began to take the form of the God of the Oceans and Seas, Milotic. The creature lost it’s near-camouflage colour and it’s original colour restored. It’s large, thick body was a dull cream colour, darkened by occasional patches of ashe from the inferno. Long, blood-red hair draped down from her head as her chestnut brown eyes glared at the Pokemon below venomously. Her eyes filled with hatred.

“HOW DARE YOU!” the Milotic said in her sing-song voice. “YOU HAVE JUST DECLARED YOURSELF INDEPENDENT FROM US, YOUR CREATORS. AND, FOR THAT, EACH AND EBERY ONE OF YOU WILL SUFFER INDEFINABLY AND EVENTULLY PERISH, JUST LIKE THIS CHURCH!” she screeched.

“Please…” a voice pleaded from one of the larger Pokemon. “Be merciful.” “HOW DARE YOU PITIFUL POKEMON. FIRST YOU DESTROY THE SACRED HOME OF MINE AND NOW, YOU’RE TELLING ME TO BE MERCIFUL. YOU DISGUSTT ME,” she spat, showering the Pokemon below with huge globs of bubbling acid. They screamed in agony as their skin bubbled away before them. “NOW ATTACK MY PRETTY LITTLE POKEMON,” the monstrous Milotic droned as the Zubat advanced slowly. There was a huge rushing sound as the thousands upon thousands of Zubat rushed forward, eager to get the first kill, the scent of blood taunting thee ravenous creatures from hell. Complete and utter bloodshed followed and the twenty courageous rebels perished within seconds.

Moneria, The First Day after Vengeance.

All was quiet in the seaside resort favoured by many. The pretty, multi-coloured buildings had been reduced to rubble in the middle of the night. Dust blew across the town all throughout the sinister day. Corpses of all sorts of Pokemon lay on the blood coated tarmac ground. Instead of the cheerful call of wild bird song in the morning, there was an eerie silence. The usually serene, clear blue skies had turned into a harsh crimson colour and heavy grey clouds were scattered erratically in the sky. A large, pterodactyl flew through the air, searching hungrily for any survivors. It had been sent directly from hell to scout the lands and remove all Pokemon that lived on the planet. It’s great wings flapped heavily as it soared through the air, diving behind a dirty, grey pillar, perhaps spying prey, and out of view.

A sigh of relief came from somewhere beneath the heap[s of timber, tyres and various other sorts of rubble. A large, splintered chunk of wood was shoved roughly aside and a large teal head poked out. The lower half of the baby Pokemon’s face was a cream colour and two pearly-white pointed fangs poked out of a wide grin on it’s face. The young Pokemon looked around simply as two teal hands rose from the rubble and began lifting it away. Within seconds the majority of the junk was taken off of the Munchlax and it rose to it’s feet. The jagged edges of it’s coat blew around wildly and the teal fur ruffled as the cool, brisk morning wind blew by. Munchlax’s coal-black pupils took in the devastation and a large salty tear sprung to it’s eye.

“Mama?” the little Pokemon called. “MAMA!” it wailed, wondering where it’s mother, Snorlax, was. Munchlax opened it’s large mouth once more as it was about to start shouting, but it’s pink tongue locked up. “ndnhj,” it mumbled, unable to speak. A navy antique mirror rose out from the pile of rubbish. It spun around revealing glowing yellow eyes and large dimple-like bumps framed it’s face. “Please be quiet,” the Bronzor said. “I have locked your tongue to try and help you. Quick come with me, before it arrives,” the Bronzor whispered. The Bronzor ducked down into the rubbish and closed it’s eyes. Rubble began levitating from the ground as the Bronxzor concentrated on them. The Munchlax began clapped, believing this to be some sort of magic trick. A dusty, oaken trap door came into view, previously hidden craftily among the rubble. There was a dark, brass handle on it that lead into the well-hidden soutterain.

A pebble nearby started to glow a faint purple colour and rose into the air, at the Bronzor's whim. It knocked on the hard, wooden door, once, twice, three times. Immediately afterwards there was a screeching sounds as a bolt from the other side of the trapdoor was unlocked. The door swung open revealing a pitch black cave. The Bronzor floated downwards and the Munchlax followed it down the cold, earthen steps. The door swung shut after them as if by magic, sending them into eternal darkness and the unknown. Three balls of swirling purple light blinked into existence, illuminating the Bronzor ahead air levitated down the cold, barrow passageway. The Munchlax whimpered as it followed the Bronzor. It had a morbid fear of the darkness, much to it's dismay. The pair walked along for several minutes. The only sound was the heavy thud of the Munchlax's footsteps and the dripping soundof water spilling from a tap nearby. The Bronzor stopped suddenly at a silver, stainless steel door. The pair could hear laughter coming from inside and the clinking of glasses.

Bronzor took a deep breath before shoving the door inwards, with it's mind. They entered a scene of olden, happy days one would think did not exist anymore in this cruel, vicious world. There were rows of hard benches stuffed with plump, padded velvet cushions. The only source of light and warmth was coming from a blazing hearth to the right of the large, round table and benches. Sitting on the benches were the only know survivors from this particular town. Six or seven Pokemon stared up at the two new arrivals, Munchlax in particular.

"Hello guys. This, is Munchlax," the Bronzor said as he turned around and faced the curious Munchlax. Munchlax's beady eye were fixed on a stale slice of bread lying on the table. It's stomach rumbled loudly as it stared at the bread longingly. "Go on," Bronzor smiled. "We all need to stick together in order to sur- er, have a good time," the Bronzor said, not wanting to scare the young Pokemon. The Munchlax rushed over to the table and shoved the slice of bread down his throat without chewing. A Poliwhirl passed up a wooden basket of bread to the starving Munchlax. "Tuck in," he smiled.

Later that evening

Munchlax lay curled up on the only bed in the survival base. The bed was originally a couch but it could be converted. It had a sheet draped over it's bulging belly and was snoring softly. His chest rose and fell as he slept and his eyelids fluttered around as the innocent Pokemon started to dream. In his dream the world was a happy place. He did dream of his mother and himself, at the beach. The sun was blaring down on them and the two Pokemon were swimming. They splashed drops of cool, salty water at each other and his mother looked happy. That's what he wanted more than anything, to see his mother happy. The Munchlax's lips curled into a smile as the pair ran along the beach. The soft sand particles sticking to their wet fur and they started to build sandcastle...

"What are we going to do with him?" the Poliwhirl asked from behind his hand of cards.

"Wait. What do you mean? Of course we're keeping him. The poor dote has nowhere else to go and he's our responsibility now," Bronzor said firmly from the other side of the table, watching the Munchlax affectionately.

"No," a large purple pitbull Pokemon growled. He's YOUR responsibility. We wanted nothing to do with the brat. I say we leave him to fend for himself. Besides, you know the chance of his mother being alive are slim to none, right?" the mut, by the name of Granbull said.

"Stop it! We shouldn't think like that. Come one Granbull, you know better than to think so negatively," Bronzor sighed. "I propose we look for her. I mean, seriously, we can't stay here forever. Our food supply is running out extremely quickly," Bronzor added.

"Well, we'd have a lot more if you didn't bring him," the Poliwhil said, pointing a pudgy thumb at the snoozing Munchlax.

"Come one guys. A lot of Pokemon moved up North, out of harms way. There's still a good chance that she survived. Now, I need to go and get some fresh air to clear my head. I'll be back shortly," the Bronzor saidas it made for the door.

Outside the Survival Shelter, a few minutes later
The Bronzor looked up at the dark, night sky, wishing for better times, the good old days. The bright stars above twinkled at him, almost as though they were saying to keep your faith. He sighed. It wasn't easy when there were so few survivors and they all were so depressing. Bronzor spun around suddenly as he heard the bearing of wings. The fieresome Aerodactyl was face-to-face with the startled Bronzor. The pteradactyl gave a hissing screech and it shot forward. Bronzor knew there was no point trying to save himself, there wasn't enough time. But, there was time to implant a memory in one of the pieces of junk. He closes his wide yellow eyes and began thinking quickly, while concentrating on the leg of a wooden, broken-up chair. Then, just as the memory stored itself in the chair large, sharp talons gripped onto the Bronzor and dragged him away. The Aerodactyl flew through the air with it's prey at a blinding speed, until it was merely a speck in the night sky. It was heading for it's nest back home, in the fiery bowels of the earth. Bronzor had no idea what awaited him, other than certain death.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Bit late, but this is claimed <3

Introduction:

Your introduction:

• Is descriptive; it certainly set an atmosphere of a dark, cold night and a blurry image of shadowy Pokemon tramping along the coast came to mind.
  
  
• Is mysterious. I wanted to know why the rebels were rebels and where they were going.
  
  
• Is...melodramatic. Between the quote "The night that would be remembered hundreds of years in the future." and the chilling wind 'n the night the gods were challenged, it felt a tad too dramatic. See, I'm going to guess that some people like drama right off the bat, but personally, I enjoy drama to be worked into a story, over time. If you had described some of the Pokemon's feelings getting all worked up as they were walking, then started to talk about the night that would be remembered for years, then I, personally, would have liked that. Honestly, I don't know what most people would enjoy, as people's taste differ dramatically from one another; this is simply my impression of the introduction.

--
Grammar 'n All That Jazz:

You had some typos, like "depp" instead of "deep". Proof read some more, of course, a few different times and at different parts of the day. I wouldn't say the errors were exorbitant in number, but they were certainly noticeable.

Next of all, remember that when a new person speaks, make a new paragraph. So the following:

“W-what was that?” a black, mutli-patterned snake said, slithering to the front. “Nothing, nothing at all,” the Shiftry said. “Cheer up men, we have done the impossi”

Will become:

“W-what was that?” a black, mutli-patterned snake said, slithering to the front.

“Nothing, nothing at all,” the Shiftry said. “Cheer up men, we have done the impossi”

"It's" is a contraction of "it is" and "its" is possessive. "It's a lovely day." for example and "Its large, thick body was..." are the proper usage of those two words.

Also, and this is just the impression I received, you overused capital letters. You do use them for the length of an entire word when you want to show someone yelling, or sometimes if you are writing out a newspaper headline or a sign (like a sign that would state a location or rule). But you don't always have to use them when someone is yelling.

...of the God of the Oceans and Seas, Milotic.

I'm 99% sure that your use of god should not be capitalized. The name "God" generally takes two forms: one is the proper noun and it refers to the Almighty Father; the second is not a proper noun and it refers to a deity "Those are the gods of Zoopydoo land." for example.

Oh! And people keep switching pronouns on me >.< Why? It seems the last few stories I've read on Bulbagarden/PE2K have switched the gender of the Pokemon. For example, your Bronzor, you called him "it" for a while and then switched to "him". Keep him a him and her a her and it a it, otherwise you chance confusing your readers.

One last thing, I swear, then I'll move onto another section.

"Tuck in," he smiled.

Should be:

"Tuck in." He smiled.

He smiled is an action; and if you'll notice, it doesn't describe the dialogue at all. Thus you use a period instead of a comma.
--
Use of Description:

You have a handle on how to describe things; how strong a handle, I can't say for sure, but I feel it's fairly strong and is itching to grow stronger. Generally you have an idea as to what needs to be described and how you want to describe it. You also--usually--described things that I, as a reader, would like described and avoided throwing a bunch of tiny, incredibly unimportant details at me.

In fictional stories, description is important. There is not a set limit on how much is too much and how little is too little; nor is there a national Fiction Writer's Department that has released an official guide on what is the "proper" style of description (as there is none). All author's write their stories a bit differently from one another. Now usually you can tell if someone goes to one of two extremes; detail so sparse you can't imagine a thing or so much description you feel like you're floating in a sea of adjectives describing the length of every scar a cat has placed into an old chair. I ramble on about this...stuff because I wish to tell you that you seem to be roughly in the middle of these extremes.

(I also wanted to bring up the mention of amount of description and style as I think it'd be a good idea of you were conscious of these two things as you are writing. Ask yourself: what do I want to say and how do I want to say it? And am I certain I have portrayed my ideas to the reader as accurately as I can? Have I left any detail out that is actually quite important?)

There were moments during the story where I felt that you had a chance to go further in the way of description than you did. You created a kind of spooky atmosphere at the start of the story, but then it felt like afterwards there were periods where you could have continued on adding to that atmosphere. Then again, it was a short story, so there wasn't much time to build up a sense of fear or whatnot. I may be picking at nits :P

Anyway, especially when it came to emotions, you might think of describing things more. You vaguely described the rebels as being nervous and in pain and so on throughout the story, but I would like enjoyed hearing more detail of what their feelings were. How you add more description to the emotions, I do not think I need to tell you.

I'm not an expert on this, but it felt like your style of description was a bit...spotty. Overall, it was quite consistent, but there were a few moments where you switched from a generally strong, down-to-earth description to a kind of dramatic description (you know, like when people compare someones eyes to the flames of hell, instead of just saying they were full of malice and hate). If you meant it, then that is fine :D If you didn't, then try and be kind of aware of that shift.

One note I'd like to make is that you overused "Pokemon". More specifically, an example would be when the Zubats burst out from the church, you kept calling the group of rebels Pokemon. You should have exchanged the word Pokemon with something else, perhaps the word "group" or "rebels" or "gathering" or something along those lines.

--
Plot:

Eh. I do like to read up on old myths and on ancient religions, but I'm not too big on this plot. It was alright, it was certainly creative, though not too realistic/explained. For example, why were they attacking the church? Sometimes you can indeed leave plot holes without really detracting from the story, but in this case, I'm still wondering why. I understand you keep using the term 'hell' as if the "church" is evil, but what event pushed these rebels to rebel? And rebellion brings to mind oppression, though no oppression is mentioned. I know it's chapter one, which indicates there will probably be a chapter two, and thus more plot explained, but still...

And the destruction of the land and the hidden Pokemon = awesome sauce for a plot.

BTW, I did quite enjoy the Aerodactyl :) The addition of it and the description of it.

--
Length:

12,017 characters, to be exact.
--
Outcome:

If you capture Bronzor, does he escape from the Aerodactyl? Or does it mean that he'll get captured and taken to wherever the Aerodactyl is headed? Maybe he'll escape from there. Hmm...

Hmm? Why are you still here? *pause* Ohhh, yeah, that...

Congrats! You have captured a Bronzor!