And so begins an eternity of pain

Mordred couldn't stop shaking. It had been several weeks since the incident, but even then he still couldn't suppress the memory. He had simply gone off on a simple mission, assuming that it was just another arrest of some petty criminal. Upon arriving to the cavern, he had gone deep inside to look for the hiding outlaw. He learned one thing from that short, painful trip: Never assume that your enemies were who they were.

He had returned to the guild that day, just barely alive. His chest had been hit, leaving a deep gash in the middle of it. He had only managed to return safely thanks to the help of a team of explorers who had conveniently been within the premises. They brought him all the way to the guild, where he was subjected to immediate medication to help with the wound. Luckily, the injury wasn't anything fatal. It would heal, but would scar in the end. He only needed to endure the stinging pain and avoid overdoing himself. His real problem was whether his mind would recover. He could still remember the faint glow of those devious eyes and the face of his familiar attacker.

Although he was supposed to still be resting, he had insisted on finally getting out and doing his duties. The deep wound no longer hurt as it had, healing just enough to become an annoying pain that shot through him every so often. He didn't want to remain a burden to the guild, especially after saving his life. He had to do something, even just a simple F-rank mission would suffice. All he would have to do was either retrieve a stolen item or deliver a certain object for the client. Nothing too difficult that he couldn't handle, whether injured or otherwise.

He shook his head, finally feeling the trembling fade. He walked out the guild, stopping a few feet outside to relish the sunlight. He examined the area around him, noticing the many pokemon running about in the bustling town. Although he had long come accustomed to the noise and the pressure, he felt a similar sensation. When was the last time he felt this? He recalled the time he first came to Grassveil, remembering a familiar, shy Vulpix whom he had disappointed. He felt his nervousness grow upon looking back to that day.

He gulped down his anxiety, reasoning with himself that he only need to go for a short walk before going back in the guild. A brief stroll around town would put his limbs to some much needed exercise after that long absence. Afterwards, he could grab a mission and be out of this crowded place quicker than a Patrat in a room full of Ekans.

Gripping the strap of his Treasure Bag, the scraggy continued walking away from the guild, beginning his brief little wandering around the town.

Poké. He needed it. He needs it so bad. Nixon had come a long long way, only to end up in some small and quaint town. All around him, villagers were working. Some were setting up their stores, others walking around, but aside from that the town was relatively quiet.  

Beginning to walk forwards, some people gave him a quick glance. Maybe newcomers were often found there? He had no idea. But what DID know is that he needed... "Poké..." Turning his head to that tinkling sound, he realized that he can have a job here, and earn the very thing he wanted.


However, some Oddish walked past him and his ears caught the familiar and well-loved melody of sweet, sweet Poké. But then, just as he saw his hand reach out and grab that coin, he used his other hand to push it down. "No, not here you littl-"

Nixon looked around him and realized some Pokémon were staring at him.

"Oh, uh... Ahaha... There was a bu-- Bye!" With that, he ran away with the speed of a Rapidash to the other edge of the town. Him and his stupid kleptomaniac urges! If he wants to survive, he'll have to do it properly, and honestly with the help of nobody but himself.

While running, his foot made the sudden decision to trip over a rock. With the grace of a Snorlax he fell... Headfirst into somebody. Nixon crashed to the ground. He closed his eyes so he had no clue what happened to the guy he just ran into.

"Oww!" Hissing, he checked his arm for any bruises or scratches.

The scraggy had been wandering around the shop district. He'd been gone for quite a while now, and wasn't surprised to find so many new stalls and items put on stock. He looked at the interesting products, listening as their shopkeepers talked and pitched their items with great pride and persuasion. He smirked, knowing that these pokemon could tempt any newcomer with ease. If it weren't for the fact he had been here for a long time, he would've easily fallen into their traps. Shiny orbs, precious stones, well-crafted scarves and an endless stash of food were spread among the little stores of the district, luring in pokemon left to right.

He waved away a random vendor who had begun to follow him, offering some sort of specialized belt. He had no use for those at the moment, especially when he already had his own items. The only thing he'd even ponder to buy would have been a Joy Ribbon, which was an exclusive item blessed with the ability to make growth much quicker than average. If he wanted to become the best explorer there was, or to even come close to defeating his clan, the scraggy would need to get his hands on that ribbon. The only problem was that in each of his attempts, it seemed he would fail due to some random obstacle ranging from fatigue, to annoying strangers who would distract and lead him away from his goals. This time would be different. After the previous incident, he was set on getting stronger. And there was nothing that would keep him from it.

Sort of.

He found himself falling. A huge, painful thump hit him in and in his absence of mind, he had allowed himself to lose balance. "Wh- OW!" He fell to the ground, just barely saving himself from colliding headfirst onto the ground behind him. He brought a hand up, rubbing the spot on his forehead where the hit was dealt. The hell was that? He looked forwards, being greeted by the sight of the culprit. It looked... creepy. A Croagunk, it seemed. He never found that species very appealing with their weird eyes and poisonous tendencies. It must have been a newcomer, or someone he hadn't seen around town before he went on his absence. There weren't any Croagunk that lived here, last time he had checked.

He stood up, dusting himself off. "Watch where you're going next time," He said, walking over to the other fallen pokemon and offering a hand.

Rising from the ground, he declined to touch the guy. Not because he was afraid of the germs, but because there's always that teeny tiny chance that he'll poison him. He definitely does not want that.

"Nah, I can't touch." he held up his hands, specifically wiggling the bright orange middle finger. Then again... Nixon just realized this guy is covered from head to toe in bruises.

Yeah, he definitely doesn't want to touch that either.

"And uh.. You sure you should be outside? You look like somebody came into your house and beat you up. That, or you're that guy I saw somewhere getting run over by a whole flock of Tauros."

Yeah, he just can't stop staring. In fact if the guy was still going to say something he didn't hear because he's so preoccupied with absolutely memorizing each and every visible bruise. What in the hell happened to this guy.

But that aside, Nixon got distracted again. He held up a hand to his earholes and tried to follow the sound. "You hear that? Poké." Grabbing the Scraggy by the shoulders, completely ignoring his rule of 'Don't touch people', he shook the Pokémon with no regard whatsoever to his well-being. "I. Need. Poké." The look in his yellow eyes could only be described as murderous because if this Scraggy he was holding right now didn't tell him where to get Poké, he may just snap.

It's been far too long since he held the little things. Too long...

That's when Nixon realized he's digging his fingers (specifically the middle one) too deep into this guy's bruises. Panicking, he just threw the guy onto the floor. "Sorry, sorry, sorry for that!"

What's even worse is that Nixon touched the bruises.

He shuddered.

Upon being reminded of the poison sealed within the Croagunk's finger, Mordred immediately took his arm back. That was a close one. He was definitely not in the condition to handle poisoning, nor did he have the sort of patience and time to haul himself all the way back to the guild for treatment. That would be embarrassing and just plain shameful. The healer would nag him for all eternity. He shuddered, imagining the angry, red-faced fury that would be right in his face. The deafening volume of voice was already out of the question.

And right as he was hoping to avoid embarrassment, the guy suddenly points it out. Mordred flushed, never exactly finding it comfortable to have his injuries pointed out. Yes, they were a mark of experience and whatnot, but realization and witnessing the events that lead to him had made him learn that they were also a mark of clumsiness and failure. It wasn't any better that his eyepatch had been lost during the incident, leaving his injured, blind eye exposed. He had been lucky that the majority of pokemon he came across earlier were courteous enough to ignore it, but it seems not everyone had the commonsense. "Haha, nah, um... I'm fine, really. These are all pretty old bruises from missions and stuff..." He replied, trying to sound like he didn't feel as nervous as he was.

"SO, what... Uh..." The Croagunk was still staring at them. At his injuries. Did this guy have any manners at all? His hand twitched, indicating his urge to cover. He didn't like being examined. He didn't like having someone look at his failures so thoroughly. That, and this was really just plain rude and awkward.

To his fortune, the poison type seemed to have lost focus on his blemishes. "Uhh... Poke?" He raised a brow, confused as to why the other would suddenly think of that. His confusion rose as he was grabbed, increasing rapidly as the Croagunk began shaking him like some sort of instrument. "I-i-i-i-i-" The Scraggy was unable to form a sentence as he was shook. He tried to ask the other to stop, but was rendered speechless as he saw the crazed, hungry look in the pokemon's eyes. Sweet mother of Arceus, this guy was insane!

And then he was thrown back to the floor. "ARGH!" He felt his face actually collide with the dirt this time. As if the pain from the Croagunk's squeezing and shaking wasn't enough, now he felt sore. He stayed there, a little dazed before slowly staggering back onto his feet. He spat out the dirt, brushing his hand over his face to get rid of the rest that had stuck.

"What is your problem?" His voice was raised. He didn't like how this guy was acting. To add to it, a few of his newer bruises began stinging from the impact and from the rough hold. He winced, unable to suppress it at this point. "For the love of Arceus, if you wanted Poke that desperately just get a job! Go be a merchant or something. Heck, go join the guild and take on some missions! Those should pay enough, you nut!"

"Wait, what did you say? A... a guild? YEAH, I SHOULD!" Nixon grinned widely, the orange sacs on his cheek widening and emitting a strange noise. As the size of the cheeks became smaller, so did the noise lessen. "Not only will I get Poké, but random junk too! And I can sell that random junk for EVEN MORE Poké!"

Nixon was very, very pleased with himself. With the guild job he can get money. And with that mone, he can get stuff. And that stuff, he can resell, to get MORE Poké, and so on and so forth. Plus, all those people from the guild looked pretty cool.

But the thing is, he had no clue where the guild is.

And he is definitely not going to walk around town to ask around. Then an idea struck him. He approached the guy he pushed on the ground, careful not to have his feet touch that bruised-up body, and he leaned over. "Where's the guild?" he asked, eyes now brimming with eagerness. "Up, up!" he grabbed the Scraggy's hand with his, again, ignoring his rule of 'Don't touch anyone' and pulled him up with not a hint of gentleness.

"You. Are going to guide me to the guild, okay? Okaayy? Okay!" Without due consent, Nixon tugged at the Scraggy like he were really, really beat-up luggage.

"And you're also going to have to teach me the stuff, y'know?" he blabbed, somehow managing to cut off each of the Scraggy's complaints (if he had any) with another question of his.

it would keep going, right until they'd reach the guild.

It would have taken faster, if only Nixon hadn't been distracted by each person who passed by that had a single coin of Poké on them.

Damn, this guy really wanted money. Mordred could understand wanting some wealth as material possessions were, of course, a necessity at times, but he didn't exactly obsess over them. He had plenty of things from missions already, most of which weren't even that useful for him. A few TMs, berries, and stat bands he could remember. If he wished, he could simply sell them and make profit. He didn't, however, knowing that they may come in handy in the future. He may have to sell the TMs, though, as he had discussed it with a senior guild member some time ago and realized that none of them were very useful for him. Well, more funds for him, he supposed.

He looked at the Croagunk, trying to pierce some sort of judgment on him. The scraggy was conflicted with how to view this one. On one end, he wanted to punch him in the face and leave him in the dust. On the other, he felt... pity. There had to have been something that caused this guy to become so crazed over money. He had come to learn, from the many encounters he experienced in the past, that some pokemon came to love material possessions due to unpleasant influences. It wasn't a pretty effect, often causing them to become so engrossed in wealth that they lost sight of who they were and of those they cared for.

He snapped out of his thoughts when he realized the poison type was suddenly uncomfortably close. "The guild? Oh it's- Guh!" He felt himself be pulled back to a more balanced stand. He had already tried to stand, but his daze was still threatening to throw him back to the dirt. He appreciated the gesture, really, as it saved him from an irritating accident, but he only wished the guy hadn't done it with force that threatened to rip his wounds open. "Ow! Ow! Ow! Watch it!" He winced, gently patting some of the bruises to ease some of the irritation.

His arm was grabbed, and the reptile found himself being pulled like some tug-of-war rope. He stared at the Croagunk, deciding that he was indeed dealing with a 5-year old. He understood the eagerness one would have at the prospect of joining a guild. He had been pretty psyched at the possibility when he first found out. The fame, the glory, the reward. There were so many things to expect that it would've been much more surprising to find someone not be excited. It still didn't excuse how utterly childish the Croagunk was acting.

"Alright, alright! I'll guide you to the guild! Just- just stop tugging at my arm!" He said, attempting to take his arm back from the overly-enthusiastic pokemon. He didn't even have room to complain when the guy started rambling on and on about the guild. "Wait... Teach? I don't-" He was cut off by the Croagunk's babbling. The other kept on talking and talking, not giving the scraggy any time to interject. "Alright! Alright! FINE!" He growled, getting somewhat annoyed.

With a frustrated sigh, the reptile led his accidental companion to the guild. Unfortunately, the encounter didn't go as quickly as he had hoped. The guy kept getting distracted! And by the sound of money, it seemed. Mordred couldn't help but hit his own forehead with his palm, unable to comprehend why in the world the guy was getting so hyped. He would be able to make his own money soon, so why wasn't he rushing?! This was definitely one of the more baffling pokemon the scraggy met, and not in a good way.