Not So Royal <closed>

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How long had it been since he set off? A few days? A month? How far had he traveled? If Cyrus had been asked to use one word to describe his situation, it would have been among his least favorite: helpless. He didn't know what to do, or even where he was going, especially with this damnable fog covering everything. Creatures moved all around him. The wind howled and tree limbs reached for him like gnarled claws. The prince, turned beggar, had just dragged his feet blindly, stumbling over rocks and roots until he was too tired to keep up.  He hardly looked like royalty at all. His family seal had been taken along with everything else he owned, no doubt coined off by those bloody bandits. All he had to his name now was a rucksack with some bread he'd saved from the fire, which he chewed at absentmindedly with his back propped against an old tree. Everything would be okay once he got his strength back ... There had to be a city somewhere around here, right? For now though, he closed his eyes, drifting into a light sleep despite himself.

Cyrus was getting sick of things that went bump in the dark. And to make it worse, this time there were more of them. A surge of panic swept into the grass-type, cutting through his exhaustion. His hands raised to reveal the weapon he had intended for Ares, raising to protect his face.

The forest burst to life in a flurry of wings and talons. A pair of Pidgeottos swooped after a Cherubi, narrowly missing the morsel before it dived for cover in a thorny bush. The birds squabbled noisily at each other in a tongue Cyrus could not make out. One of them must have noticed them though, because it turned and spread its wings, hissing menacingly. They would not be denied a meal.

Now, Cyrus was no coward, but he knew when a fight could not be won. The Cherubi was one thing, but these were mature birds. Birds ate pokemon like him! The prince backed up and gritted his teeth.

"R-Run!"

And run he did, as fast as his little legs would take him.

Ares was frozen as he came face to face with the stronger adversaries. While he certainly would have been inclined to prove that he was not as cowardly as he had been in their previous fight, the Pidgeottos were obviously quite experienced. As he stood there, weighing his options and surveying the particularly nasty looking birds, he heard Cyrus's voice. Though it was muffled to his brain, its intent and saying were not.

All he did was take a step backwards before hurling himself away, the sound of the Pidgeottos fighting continuing in the distance. His eyes closed tight as he attempted to reverse the situation in his head: he wasn't running away. No, he was just getting that Pansy-type so that they could take them on! Yeah!

A flap of heavy wings above him, however, proved otherwise. It appeared that the victor had gotten the Cherubi, and the loser would be getting them. How horrible! His legs throbbed as he continued running, but evidently the Charmander was not its target. As it swooped past him, Ares came to the realization of what its true target was. There was no time to waste!

He skidded to a stop, allowing his feet to drag beneath him as he reared back his head and released a Dragon Pulse attack at the flying monstrosity, attempting to distract it so that Cyrus could at least realize what was happening and respond accordingly.

Wind howled past his ears as he ran, the Pidgeotto hot on his tail gaining ground by the second. Just as it seemed the lost price would be snared by merciless talons, a beam of silver energy struck the hungry raptor. The Dragon Pulse had saved his life, for now, but only served to anger the evolved bird further. It tottered for a bit, fighting for balance, then turned to face the pokemon who had dared to strike at it during a hunt.

Cyrus, meanwhile, seemed to have no objections leaving his fiery comrade to the Pidgeotto's wrath. Better the guy he just met than him, right? The grass-type scampered up the nearest tree, wheezing and sputtering as he shoved himself into one of its hollows, leaving Ares to face the bird alone.

Bullseye! A determined, satisfied expression melted upon his facial features as he observed his attack squarely hit the bird. It squawked and flopped to the ground, which allowed Cyrus a moment to escape, but it was prompt to turn upon Ares. Oh crap.

Ares was one to pursue challenges and to stick his neck out in order to get the job done. It was in his nature to stand up to any opponent, no matter how much stronger they were, and attempt to fight. As much as he despised that characteristic of his, it had saved his hide before. With the tip of his tail blazing passionately, he issued at a howl: he accepted this bird's challenge.

The Pidgeotto was quick to recollect itself and streak towards him, its piercing beak opened wide as it anticipated its opponent's attacks. The Charmander was doing the same, and promptly rushed it head on prior to feinting beneath the bird's outstretched talons and swatting a powerful "Scratch-punch" at its underbelly. It squawked in pain, but the strength difference between the two Pokemon was obvious. It recoiled by flying high into the sky and dive-bombing him with a Tackle, of which knocked the young drake down. Well fooey!

There was no way Cyrus was leaving the safety of the hollow, not when he could hear the ferocity of the battle down below. He doubted that a reckless dive for safety would do anything less than get him killed. Maybe Ares would be able to escape, but so what? He could handle himself down there just fine...

He didn't care.

By this time the Pidgeotto had surely made to finish off the cocky little dragon. The bird itself seemed to have a bit of an ego, as instead of going for the kill it opted to preen itself instead, twittering mockingly. It would amuse itself whipping the air into a Wirlwind, hoping to tenderize its catch on rocks and roots and branches. There was an art to toying with prey -- something its hasty comrade couldn't understand.

He had been smashed against the ground from the Pidgeotto's Tackle, but the bird's light bones had made the impact from such an attack at least survivable. While Ares was attempting to pick himself up off the ground, it became increasingly evident that his traveling companion would not be assisting with this fight. It was one on one, at least until the other Pidgeotto had finished devouring the Cherubi - and who knew how long that would be.

The twittering was not well received, and promptly Ares seized up with rage. His tail burned with a heated anger, and he foolishly charged straight on at the bird. He was rebuked and sent flying with a Whirlwind. The Charmander had always desired to learn how to fly, for only the strongest of his kind could possess the ability of flight, but this was not as he had imagined it to be. Instead of a sensation of wonder and whimsy, there was fear and terror.

He curled inwards in an attempt to protect himself as he was sucked into that miniature tornado, but eventually felt his claws scrape against the tough surface of a tree's limb. Allowing himself to take hold against the strong gale, although the rest of his body was still being rattled and pulled on by the Whirlwind. He would fire off a Dragon Pulse in the Pidgeotto's direction, attempting to hit it squarely.

The glee that shown on the Pidgeotto's face was replaced with fierce determination as the Charmander managed to take purchase on a fallen log. This was not the first time the raptor had plucked lost soul's from the mists, but by that time they were usually too weak to fight back. Imagine its surprise, then, when this one not only managed to resist its Whirlwind, but rallied a counter attack as well! It broke away, feathers blasted loose by the Pulse twirling in the dying wind. That was a close one...

Up it went, circling like a buzzard over a kill. Just its luck that the prey it had been left with could actually put up a fight.

The descent came suddenly, a Quick Attack to knock the fire-type off of his feet, but the pidgeotto was in for yet another surprise. It was in mid-swoop when it was blindsided, squawking and flapping its free wing as something clung to the other for dear life.

It was Cyrus. He had had a change of heart watching Ares struggle. As much as he claimed he didn't care, as much as he knew that this Charmander had no idea where he was going, as much as he would rather leave some stranger to die than put himself in danger, he couldn't do it. Not after watching how he fought with such bravery against an opponent that clearly outmatched him. The world spun below the Snivy -- then rushed up to meet him. Widening circles rippled through the grass like water from a stone, and the interlocked Pokemon crashed to the ground, sending Cyrus tumbling away.

A second later the bird was back on its feet, staring down the two Pokemon with a hateful hiss. This was no longer a game.

The dancing, whirling blue flames of the Dragon Pulse attack seemed to have snaked their way toward the Pidgeotto as it was promptly subtracted a handful of feathers. While many might not have considered this a truly astounding sight, the aquamarine-shaded fire that sprouted into being from young Ares's conjuring seemed to embody the personae of a dragon to a T: it moved with intent and burned with ferocity. Even if the winds had died down and the attack slowly evaporated into nothingness, the image seemed to linger upon the atmosphere and personified the illustration of a defeated draconic creature.

A problem was promptly presented to Ares as he came to the realization that he was now stuck in a tall tree. With a preference for safely circumnavigating its gnarled semblance instead of simply plopping to the ground in a mock recreation of Newton's discovery of gravity, he found himself unable to command his body. It had sprawled itself out over that branch as if he were hanging in a butcher's shop window, and once more it appeared that the Pidgeotto was inbound. A look of shock first developed upon his face before sliding into more reserved acceptance - it was done.

Whack!

Shock and surprise once more blossomed on the Charmander's facial features as he recognized the tell tale signs of Cyrus joining the fray. How could he so easily fall into defeat? Hope springs eternal!

He was quick to taking advantage of the Pidgeotto's knockdown time and navigated his way down the tree in a relatively swift manner. The young drake rallied at the Snivy's side and glared on with manifested determination and hate, a crude, smug smile appearing as his tail once more burned proudly. This bird was going down, and it would all start with the Charmander producing a wrenching, guttural noise that could be identified as a Growl move.

Cyrus staggered to his feet, crouched low and ready. He flashed a sideways smirk at his fiery partner, eyes wrinkled with uncertainty.

No going back now...

He noticed the low Growls rattling out from the Charmander,  and he's quick to follow up.  He shifted forward as he gazed up at the raptor and narrowed his eyes to narrow slits: a Leer. As the bird was, they couldn't possibly best it, but together, whittling it down, they just might have a chance. Cyrus found himself thinking back to his schooling days. Father had insisted that his sons war strategy early on, in case anything ever happened to him, and even if Cyrus would never inherit the throne (though he clearly deserved it) he still had the same preening.

Strength in numbers, his teachers had said, never go out into the battlefield alone. Their tactic was straight out the war books, too -- wear down the opponent. Observe them, be patient, then take them out with one fell swoop.

The Pidgeotto stepped back, not sure what to make of this change of attitude. Its wings were opened slightly, ready to take flight once more. Was this them giving up, or...?

There was something so wonderful about the fluctuating tone of a Growl move. Unlike a normal noise, it contained such a gravelly, coarse texture to its noise that it simply could not have its effect not take place. Its soundwave dissipated out in a fan-like shape, reverberating against an opponent's eardrum and making them think twice about attacking. Such a glorious move with such abstract, beautiful concepts was something that low leveled Pokemon were blessed with. Their strength was bringing a much more powerful opponent down to their level through wearing them down, and it was demonstrated here.

Ares had no idea what Cyrus's moveset was, but the young war deity came to a quick - perhaps misinformed - judgement that he was the bulkier of the duo. As his Growls faded slowly into obscurity, the Charmander's claws would once more extend out and glow as energy surged through them. He would charge his opponent healong, only feinting at the last minute to the Pidgeotto's right so that he could attempt to drive his Scratch-punch directly into the bird's false ribs. It was his hope that he would smash its brittle-boned structure directly into the tough, grassy soil.

It was for the better that Ares took the lead; Cyrus was built for support, and he doubted he could take a direct it from the damned bird. As the Growl fanned out, he dropped his Leer and scurried back. He wasn't running this time, though -- just getting to a better position so he could continue to whittle down the bird's defenses. Ares was doing well enough keeping the bird preoccupied, allowing the grass-type to circle around behind their enemy and cast yet another Leer.

Their tactic, along with the damage that had already been dished out, was taking its toll on the Pidgeotto. The fire lizard's claws hit their mark with the punchy crack of shattering bones. Down the bird went, without so much as a squawk. It flailed and flapped, its beak stretched wide in a silent scream, confused and terrified as shock moved over it like a steely hand. A cruel grin slithered across Cyrus's features as he observed their fallen foe, but his victory was cut short by a quiet thought, a warning in the back of his mind.

There had been two.

"We should get out of here. Before its friend comes back." he said softly, checking the skies. He'd seen Ares take a beating -- as proud as the Charmander was, neither of them could go through that again.

It was as if the whole world had slowed. Ares found his brain was overworking for such an insignificant moment such as this: his entire perception becoming sluggish was a mere side effect of his body working overtime to analyze his world. His eyes, narrowed in concentration as all energy and power was transferred into his swinging arm, locked with those of the Pidgeotto that now seemed perplexed and puzzled - more so in alarm than trivial surprise. Smoke poured forth from his nostrils as he felt his fist penetrate a soft warmness, and as he observed the bird's body move alongside the force and direction of his swing.

The world promptly sped up as the young Charmander's brain registered that the threat had been immobilized and impeded, and he was left recovering standing near the downed Pidgeotto. With clarity achieved, and a sickening discovery that that warm, plushness had not merely been the bird's feathers, he allowed an exhale to slip through his sturdy persona as he pivoted to face his companion once more. There was a rugged, almost aged, look to his eyes as he stared on towards his friend who communicated the prompt need to vacate the area.

There was a glint by Cyrus's foot, however, and the treasure loving lizard couldn't help but point in a childish fashion and inquire curiously, "Oh! What's that?"

This dice is not existing.

Was it a miracle that the two travelers were still alive after such an encounter? Or perhaps something more? Had their chemistry actually been soon effective? Cyrus was still in disbelief at their triumph. They had managed to best an opponent that far outmatched either of them. And, furthermore, he felt he could finally trust the Charmander. If he'd been out for blood, he would've just left him to the birds.

He blinked and looked down at a slight protrusion in the ground near his feet, bending down to dig their treasure out of the ground. Arceus willing, it would be something that could help them find their way home, because Ares sure didn't know where he was going. The reptile felt relief flood into him as he picked up the item, brushing it off to reveal an intricate blue orb. He knew what it was the moment he turned it in his claws. "A Warp Orb," It wouldn't get them out of the forest, but it would come in handy for when the avian's friend showed up. He turned back to his comrade with a satisfied smile, holding up the find for him to see it clearly.

He tucked the Orb under his arm, wishing anything that he'd kept his rucksack with him. "You should eat that berry from earlier..." Cyrus said, eyeing the reptile's wounds. He shrugged his shoulder, readjusting his grip on the bulky Orb, and continued onward. They were bound to run into something soon -- he wasn't keen on letting Ares lead anymore. Not that it'd make much of a difference either way.

He blinked slowly as he eyed the orb, a devious glint present in his eyes. There was something so beautiful about it that he simply could not let it out of his sights.

It was round.

It was shiny.

Treasure... Kinda!

Although Ares highly subscribed to the rule of "Finders-Keepers", he was not so keen upon it when it consisted of him not getting the reward. This often branched into abiding by this rule with other 'mon's belongings, which had not made him particularly popular in his war-torn homeland. Perhaps that was one of the main reasons he had left.

"Do I look that bad?" he would inquire innocently, "Because I feel like I could punch some more Pidgeottos in the face."

Cyrus noted the look in the treasure-hungry dragon's eyes, and gave him a reprimanding glance. It didn't matter who "owned" the orb -- it was going to be useful for both of them.

"You took some pretty harsh blows." he replied flatly, looking the Charmander over "Eat the berry."

He began to jog, feverishly checking the sky for any signs of movement. By any luck, they could find cover before the other one went looking for its buddy. The dense forest had begun to thin ever so slightly, the moon basking the dewy trees in sliver light. A good sign, but not a surefire one. For all he knew, they could just be reaching a clearing.