Damien Neimad the Girafarig

Damien was born into a small but wealthy family residing in Aileron Village. His father was an old Swoobat named Ingram, and his mother Ingram’s younger trophy wife, a Girafarig named Nicole. Damien would also get a little brother three years younger than him, a Woobat they would name Vance. They even had two housekeepers, a male and a female Indeedee, taking care of most domestic tasks within their comparatively large house in the village. Most the family’s income came from Ingram’s highly successful stone and gem store business in Grassveil, as Nicole held no job of her own and would rather focus on her rare berry trees and vineyard in the property's garden with her husband’s financial support.

The reason the family lived in Aileron and Ingram bothered to commute far away to manage his workers as opposed to just living in the busier town was simple; Aileron was more prestigious, more refined. And what Ingram wanted for his family more than anything was for them to appear classy. Everything related to the Neimad family life was built upon that value, “to appear classy”.

It didn’t take long before Damien and Vance were taken on trips to see things such as museums and art galleries or got to watch theatre plays. All to make sure they were well cultured. At home, they got schooling from the two housekeepers to make sure they understood topics such as mathematics and history, but it also included training in dressing and speaking right. Both their rooms were also well outfitted with big bookshelves and books on all sorts of topics. And although it was not officially part of their schooling per se, their father would often encourage them to be proud of who they are and where their family stands, citing that “our kind are resourceful and innovative” as the reason why they are so well off. Damien was targeted especially often, as his father had decided that he, as the eldest son, would be the heir to the family business when he was older.

Unfortunately, that led to the boy developing an insufferable ego that made him unpopular among other children (in addition to him being part of the Grounded of the village), leaving him pretty much friendless outside of his own family circle. This again led to him staying close to the family property most of the time while he was young, but it did not make him any less happy. At home he had the housekeepers to play with, as well as Vance (who wanted to be his friend on the simple basis of him being his big brother) and sometimes his mother. And although Nicole did not spend as much time with them as the housekeepers, she did get them most anything they could ask for as gifts.

Friends grew even more irrelevant when Damien declared himself to be too old to be playing outside and took up reading as his main pastime instead. He had read before, but not as much as he would now. It was this change in interests that would spark a great alteration of his future, as after about three months of leisurely reading, he came across a research paper among the books in his bookshelf. “Mystery Dungeons: Their Origins” was the title. Intrigued, Damien began flipping through it. After getting to the end (most of the time spent looking back and forth between the paper and a lexicon fetched from the shelf above to understand what the paper even said), he could summarize the contents as “we don’t know where they come from, but they change, contain items we also don’t know where came from, and are dangerous”. That answer did not satisfy him, prompting him to scour the bookshelves for any other literature on the topic.

None of the other things he found on the shelves satisfied him. There was lots of fiction about explorers delving into them, a collection of frameless realistic paintings depicting Cattail Marsh done by some Smeargle decades ago, and more papers with only slightly more info on the topic… Why did they know so little about such a widespread phenomenon? One that was easily available to visit and experience? From the way his father had spoken of explorers previously, calling them “frivolous thrill-addicts only good for supplying wares”, Damien chalked it up to most pokémon being too indifferent about the subject to bother studying it. Yes, they had to be missing the necessary researchers. That, or they had to be too incompetent to get the job done properly. There was no way it was that a difficult subject to study. Either way, this called for some participation from a capable and innovative mind! Ever so confident, Damien nominated himself for the job.

Right around the same time his dungeon research started, his father called him to his home study to let him know that his merchant training would be starting in a few months. Damien grabbed the chance to present his plans to him. Ingram said he was alright with his little “hobby”, as long as his main focus remained on the training.

The dungeon research started with visiting libraries and such to gather information, but soon evolved into him hiring explorers to escort him into dungeons for field research, then into him bringing items back home for further studying and testing (with some aid from Vance, who was quite eager to see what his brother was up to now). He figured that since tracing the origin of dungeons as a whole had proven to be a bigger task than expected, starting with something smaller, the items within, would perhaps be more conquerable. If dungeons seem to appear out of nowhere, and items appear within them in a similar fashion, understanding what creates the items would probably give a clue as to what makes the dungeons, he theorized.

However, despite Damien agreeing to prioritize his training over the item research, it found ways to screw things up for him once his apprenticeship started. Mishaps like him activating a Hail Orb indoors to figure out what it does and having to spend a good hour getting all the hail pellets out of his room before they melt and soak it right before he and his father were to depart for Grassveil, or him testing out a Sleep Seed and messing up his sleep schedule before a busy week became commonplace. A particular incident where Vance was to try a seed Damien had found, only for it to turn out to be an X-Eye Seed and make the poor boy fly into a wall and get a concussion made their father forbid Damien from “making Vance use any of those freakish dungeon contraptions ever again.” Incidents like those slowly wore at Ingram’s patience, but he tried to let it be, and would scold Damien and hope for him to shape up rather than forbid him from partaking in his mess of a passion project.

Two years of training passed, and the final part of Damien’s training was getting closer and closer. He was to manage the shop without Ingram’s supervision for a month. If it went well, he would finally inherit the shop, scoring himself a stable source of income on the side as he kept up his research. His obsession with dungeons and mysteries had not waned over the course of the two years; if anything, delving deeper into the topic during that time had only captivated him further.

Ingram had told him that he could not go visit dungeons during his exam month, which Damien had agreed to. It would simply be too inconvenient and time-consuming for such an important period, and he could manage a small break. Especially with a small storage of items to run tests on during the time he would not be at the shop, which he had decided to collect three days before the exam month’s start.

To minimize the risk of something unexpected happening, Damien chose a dungeon he had been to several times before, Pricklemist Hill. He also put up a mission on the bulletin board of Grassveil's guild, calling for a team to escort him even though he had recently dipped his hooves into entering less dangerous dungeons on his own. The team that picked up the mission consisted of a Sneasel, a Seviper and a Tangela.

The expedition went well at first, with the team coming across many items and managing to keep the dungeon’s inhabitants at bay. Trouble only started brewing on the way back, only a short amount of time after they had turned back for the day. A group of a dozen Zangoose or so appeared around them, apparently having surrounded them while they were busy dealing with other pokémon. One at the front accused the group of concealing an enemy spy sent to observe the Zangoose and their territory, namely the Seviper. The team naturally denied the claim, and tried to explain that they had worked together as a rescue team for two months and a half already and that they hadn’t come here to have him spy on anyone. Unfortunately, the pack was having none of it, and a fight broke out. The team was a capable yet new one, and the sudden zerg rush of Zangoose outnumbered them sorely and made protecting the client difficult. There weren’t enough Warp Orbs to send them all away, and Damien quickly ran out of Gravelerrocks to chuck at them as he tried to outrun a duo he was trying to avoid a full-on confrontation with after the Tangela and Sneasel went down. The chase did not last for long, as Damien’s pace was halted by a Pursuit to the tail, followed by a Slash raking down his back before it all went black.

When he came to, he found himself trapped a makeshift cage of branches, still inside the dungeon. Beside him was the Tangela, gently trying to wake him while the Sneasel spoke to a Zangoose outside of the cage, sounding like they were arguing. The Seviper was nowhere to be seen, and the Tangela explained that they held him someplace else and were interrogating him. More Zangoose came by to ask the rest of the group questions, but Damien could tell they held less hostility toward them than their main suspect, as the questions were simple things like “Where did you come from?”, “If you’re not helping the Seviper, then what are you here for?” and “Can you prove you’re not a spy?” with the occasional attempt at making them rat out the Seviper to free themselves, without too much pressing for different answers. Answering their questions managed little more than to keep their captors from getting any angrier, however, as most of them remained sceptical even after being told their story several times. Damien had a hard time not snapping and yelling at them, stressed both by the awful situation and the equally bad timing, but tried his hardest not to, knowing it wouldn’t get him out any faster.

They held on like that for six days until the team and their escortee were properly recognized as missing (with hard badgering at the guild from the Neimad family after Ingram had finally swallowed his pride and gone to them for help), the job was picked by a willing rescue team and the group was located within the dungeon. The second team were more experienced and made quick work of the Zangoose, freed the captives and had a quick look at their wounds before helping them back out of the dungeon.

After Damien got out, his family had him checked in at a medical clinic in Rainfront as soon as possible, with the rest of them staying at the Inn while they waited for the personnel to give him the OK for travelling back up to Aileron. His status wasn’t bad, with the only real concerns being the infection risk of the claw wound and the tail head’s newfound aggressive behaviour. He was doing well enough for visits, so he was accompanied by his family between treatments. Ingram told him the exam month was going to be postponed until after he had recovered some more.

However, things would not run that smoothly. Two weeks later, Damien was back in the family house, preparing for the next month by going over the things he had learned about the trade so far. His wound was closed with healing skin, his tail was acting (closer to) normal and he was generally feeling a lot better. That evening, a single housekeepers reluctantly knocked on his room door, prompting Damien to open and see her strained face struggling to make a reassuring smile as she began speaking. He was asked to follow her, only being told that Ingram wanted to speak with him in his home study.

The other housekeeper stood ready to open the door to the study, looking just as troubled. Damien was already worried, but that worry increased tenfold as he reached the desk and was met with his father’s stern, yet slightly apologetic gaze.

“My son,” he began, appearing to ready himself. “I am very glad that you have recovered. The whole family is. Do you remember what we told you while you were still in Rainfront?”

“Yes…? The exam was postponed, was it not?”

“Ah, so you do remember…” Damien could have sworn he looked unhappy with that answer, nearing on embarrassment, with his pupils sliding away for a moment. “There has been a change in plans about that.”

Damien could hear a shuffling noise outside the room and felt his tail wriggling with discomfort.

“Oh?”

“We have considered many things and thought a lot… And I do not mean to upset or hurt you, my beloved son, but… you will not be partaking in an exam next month.”

No answer came from Damien, only an unflinching stare as he felt all sorts of feelings battle for dominance within him, an anxious, heart-gripping curiosity finally coming out on top.

“The heir… is no longer you. Your brother shall be trained in your stead, and will do the test instead in due time. You are of course welcome to keep training to work underneath him, and you will be guaranteed a job here once your behaviour is fit for-“

“What? Father, what is the meaning of this? Why would you do this?”

Ingram swallowed regretfully after being stopped and rested a wing thumb on his temple, seeming like he would rather have finished it all as fast as possible rather than have to deal with a back-and-forth.

“The way you have been behaving lately is unfit for the leader of a business like ours, Damien. We have a reputation to uphold, and you have proven to be unfit for that task.”

“Wait, is this about the Zangoose incident? You do not seriously believe that I got kidnapped on purpose, do you?”

“I do not. However, I think you that you should not have embarked on the trip to that place to begin with. The exam was just about to start, and you should have remained home and prepared for it instead of tempting fate.”

“I had three whole days left! It was supposed to be a small day trip, I had hired bodyguards, and we went to Pricklemist Hill. There exist way worse dungeons out there, and I have been to this one before. It was a calculated trip meant to be safe, and I was by no means “tempting fate” as you claim!”

Had Damien had any longer fur, it would have bristled. Did Ingram think he was stupid or something?

“Yet your bodyguards were defeated, and you were hospitalized for two whole weeks. Can you truly call that a “calculated and safe” trip?”

“It was bad luck, that is all. Bad luck is not grounds for a big decision such as yours, father. Give me another month and I will show you.”

“I will do no such thing. This incident is not the only reasoning I have for this choice,” he sighed, shaking his head slowly. “Your whole training period has been nothing but chaos, and I have come to notice that you are not popular with our workers either. Your brother, on the other hand, has been working hard the whole way without issues, even if it would seemingly never earn him the top rank because of it being promised to you. The business would be better off with someone like him to lead it, and I am sure you will come to realize that as well.”

As much as he wanted to keep arguing his case, Damien found he could not manage anything but to curse his father after that, making the old Swoobat shoo him out with an ever so calm: “I will be speaking to your brother now. Please understand and go to bed.”

As expected, outside the door was Vance, accompanied by two Indeedee who had finally dropped the cheerful façade. Vance himself looked no better, giving his brother an apologetic look matching the words he spoke quite well. Damien heard very little of it as he ran for the stairs and to his room.

As he got inside, he got right down on his knees, craning his neck down to stare at the floorboards as if they’d explain this evening to him if he did it for long enough. Whether what he felt was rage or betrayal, he was not sure. It was quite possibly both. How long had he spent on preparing to take over his father’s shitty little shop now…? Two years? Just to be dismissed like this? If his research had been so bad, why would Ingram let him continue with it? That coward, hiding behind that claim when he could have changed it so easily. He almost wanted to ram his head into those floorboards, just to let it all out somewhere. But at the same time as he was shaking with those feelings, an icky feeling of humiliation clung to him like slime, making the idea of producing any more noise seem mortifying.

That coward held power over him. That was perhaps the worst part. This way, he was dependent on him for approval and the rights to the business. It had not crossed his mind before, but now that he was faced with it, the disgust nearly made his stomach turn. If he could choose, he would never want to feel like he’s at someone’s mercy again, not to a coward, not to anyone. He would not tolerate them insinuating that he had failed and punishing him.

And... and what happened to the “our kind are resourceful and innovative”-shtick? Had he only said that because all was going well? Was it that hollow a statement? It seemingly stopped being relevant the moment he was not becoming exactly what Ingram had planned and wanted. To Damien, it felt like he was second to the family’s image in importance. If his future meant nothing compared to the future of some shoddy stone shop and he could not use his resourcefulness for anything but that shop, then he wanted nothing to do with it.

Yes, if he did not bother with it, then how would Ingram hold any power over him? He would not. Damien got up, firmly yanking his tail loose from the nightstand leg it was busy mauling. He calmly made his way over to his writing desk, grabbing pen and paper through telekinesis. If his father loved his shop and his reputation so much, he could have it to himself. But their family was not going to be known for that anymore. No, he would accomplish greater things than just running some shop. He would put their name out there, have them be known for something that isn’t some middle-aged lady’s weekend shopping trip destination. The research was not a mistake. He had not failed. That he would show them.

When the former heir left his room, bag packed with food and all poké he was confident he could call his, it had become night. The household had settled for the night, letting him pass through the quiet, dark building without further confrontations. On the writing desk in his room laid a note reading:

“I have left to surpass you. Screw you. Screw your shop. Do not come for me.”

It was perhaps a bit dramatic, but it was his note and he wrote what he felt. And now this was his life, and he would do what he wanted with that as well.