I grew up in the small town of Feaves smack on the coast of the Lona region. I never had much interest in becoming a trainer. Never much interest in anythin’ really. I worked the ranch cause that’s what I was bred to do… to breed pokémon. Wasn’t until my sixteenth birthday that the first interesting thing in my life happened. War broke out on the upper coast about four four towns and one city from Feaves. I was drafted the next day. Funny how you only have to be ten to be a trainer but sixteen to join the army. Worlds strange that way.
With Lona entering the conflict the Third Pokémon World War began.
Many other draftees brought pokémon with them… no six team limit anymore… they brought all they could. These weren’t standard league battles anymore. Pokémon died. More importantly people died. Lots of people. Those of us who didn’t have any pokémon were randomly given two donated ones. My parents wouldn’t let me bring any from the ranch so I drew from the box. An Aron and a Bulbasaur.
Bulbasaur was a timid coward at first, always hiding in the corner, I was lucky to have Aron though. My little metal head. He quickly proved himself, always jumping into the heat of battle and shielding me from bullets with his hard steel shell. Not six months after the conflict began and he evolved. A year after that he evolved once more into his final form; Aggron.
The war raged for years and years, other regions joined, seven in total, making it a three faction war with four fronts. In the end our faction–Hoenn, Unova, Lona and Nekma–won. Well “won.” There really was no winner. It stole nearly twenty-five year of my life. I returned home to find my parents long since dead, good riddance, my seven sisters M.I.A. and the ranch a pile of rotting wood. I decided to rebuild the ranch, with the help of Aggron and my now evolved Ivysaur, some of our combat friends, human/mon alike, settled down in Feaves with me.
It’s the part of war not many people talk about, the horrible bloody part, the cripples, the amputees and the injured, the brutally mangled and those who’s body’s have been deformed. I was luckily. In all the years I was gone all I loss was some of the hair on my head. My Bulbsaur though… welll… in one particular conflict he proved he wasn’t a coward and he wears the mark of his bravery with him… through the vine and leg he is missing.
I am General Fora and these are the stories of my pokémon ranch turned veterans hospital
Hey everyone sorry for not getting a story out last week I’ve been caught up playing Pokémon Go and all I got out of it was this story. I have a few things in the works right now including a new part for Steeple and B&MG as well as more original stories so if you’re not up to date with my stories visit my page and get reading. Well you’re there you should follow so you don’t miss what I have coming up in the next few weeks!