The second chapter in my story featuring me, Rocky the Weavile! Note: There will be vorish scenes later in the story. Comments are a love :D.


After Scavenging nearly every square inch of Svilgaard Rocky was certain that whoever had come by and swept all the people away had left none behind. Dusk was quickly falling around him and he still didn't have anything he wanted. All the weavile wanted was just a couple items: food and water. He had no idea what the forest would provide him with, so for peace of mind it would be ideal to already carry some with him. Rocky wasn't much of a hunter. He preferred to sustain himself on berries or any kind of fruit he could find in the infertile conditions of his native environment. So if he could find any house with fruit or bread, he would be happy.

The several houses he had already broken into were dead ends. It was like no one had every been in them. As scary as the whole town was, Rocky knew he wouldn't leave without the assurance of nutrition.

The hungry pokemon placed a paw over as unhappy stomach. It growled loudly, making Rocky happy that no one was around to hear it. Lucky enough for the weavile, the next home would have exactly what he wanted.

Rocky paused to marvel at the house that was now in view. Smack in the center of the town was a large house with a tall triangle arching roof and decorated with a large amount of lights and signs. It was the only house in the town that wasn't made of wood, but of steady cement. To the pokemon's pleasure, the front door was wide open, as if begging him to step inside.
Rocky smiled to himself.

Not only was the home so inviting but a sweet smell of something cooking was free in the air. The weasel rose to the tips of his toes to get the best whiff of whatever was being made. It smelled like heaven to him. And he needed it.

Without any further analysis he rushed inside, closing the large door behind him so no one could see. The interior was even more wondrous than the pokemon had anticipated. Numerous pieces of technology and craftsmanship populated just the first room of the house. He couldn't wait to see what else there was, but that all could wait. His stomach was still in charge. In a basket just below what Rocky assumed was a dinner table were several fluffy biscuits. That wasn't were the delicious smell had been coming from, but he was eager to see how they tasted. However in that moment, just as he was bending over to slip one into his claws he heard someone come out from behind him.
“Don't move!” shouted a feminine voice, followed by the frightening click of a firearm.
On instinct Rocky twirled around as quickly as he could to find himself looking down the barrel of a shotgun. All the weavile's fur could have instantly came off because of the fright. But the gun wasn't the only surprising thing. Holding the weapon tightly in her hands was a young human female. Rocky hadn't seen a lot of humans in his life but he could guess that she was about a couple years over twenty. She had pretty jet black hair that ended at her shoulders and a face to match. She didn't seem like someone who'd shoot an innocent pokemon.

Rocky watched her expression change as she realized that he wasn't a threat to her. “Oh my, I'm so sorry little fella.” She lowered the weapon to the floor. “You're just a weavile.”. Though he was relieved to not have a giant hole in his chest Rocky took slight offense to her description of “Just a weavile”,
The woman took several steps forward to examine the rest of the room. “I must have left the door open. Rookie mistake.” she grunted. She then returned and faced Rocky, who still looked as pale as a dark furred pokemon could be. “I'm sorry. I thought you were one of the soldiers that came by and took everyone. I guess they still haven't realized they're forgetting some people.”.
“Don't worry about it. I'm glad to finally see another person! If you don't mind, could I have a biscuit?” the weavile asked.
Because of the girl's blank expression Rocky remembered that she most likely had no idea what he just said.
“I can't understand pokemon. We'll have to communicate some other way.”.
Suddenly the weasel's stomach groaned against, this time even louder than before. Rocky felt himself blush, feeling slightly embarrassed. However, it only made the young woman giggle.
“Aw, you're hungry?” she smiled kindly. “Don't worry, I'll get you something nice.”.
She turned around and briskly walked into the kitchen to get something tasty for her guest. Now observing her from a distance, Rocky could see all of her. He was surprised by what she was wearing, or wasn't wearing. Most of her body was visible. She sported some not so lengthy blue denim shorts and a tank top over her shoulders, though it was more of a half tank since most of her stomach was showing. Beyond that she was barefoot, not wearing anything else above her waist either besides the top. She's a peculiar one, the pokemon thought.
“My name's Roxanne.” she called from the kitchen. “But Everyone calls me Roxie.”. The weavile smirked, noticing an obvious similarity between his own name and hers.
Rocky took the next few moments to gaze around the home, admiring every aspect of it. It almost made him wish he wasn't a wild pokemon.
Roxie seemed to catch him looking around her home. “You like my home? My father is the mayor of this town. Ever since the founding of it the mayor lived in this exact house. He's been the leader for the last twenty years, unopposed, so I've lived here basically all my life.”.
She returned from the kitchen holding a small fluffy piece of dough and a tin mug with a small handle. “Here ya go, try this. This is a doughnut.” she said, handing him the piece of dough. “And here's coffee. I don't know if you'll like it, but it's really all that's left here. And give me those gray things you're wearing. They're probably filthy! I'll wash them for you.”. The weavile reluctantly gave her his gloves/socks, slipping them off with ease.
As she turned back to the kitchen weavile found himself fixedly eyeing the young girl. She seemed a lot different than all other humans he had encountered before. She didn't wear to much clothing (though Rocky realized it was probably because of the drastic weather change that happened). But not only that, she was really compassionate and nice. The way she smiled at him and gave him food made weavile briefly reconsider his ideas on pokemon catching.
He had heard many mixed tales of trainers and their pokemon. The widest idea was that pokemon often liked a good challenge and the trainers who trained them. For the most part, Rocky was sure many of the stories were true, but some people could be very cruel. The weavile recounted many experiences of finding beat up pokemon in the woods, desperate for help. They had often been abandoned by their trainers, and essentially left to die. Even one of Rocky's closest friends, a smeargle by the name of Vergil, was briefly owned by a trainer, though he released the pokemon back pretty quickly after the many graffiti charges against him for the smeargle's art. Rocky was glad that happened. If not they would never had become good friends.
The doughnut was oddly delicious to the weavile's surprise. It was like a sugary fluffy piece of a cloud that was edible. He was mixed about the coffee though. It was a bit too bitter for him. As he moved around the house more Rocky came across an interesting portrait hanging on the adjacent wall. It was clearly Roxie, though probably ten or so years younger. At her side, towering over her was a smirking charizard. They seemed like friends.
“You like that painting?” Roxie asked as she came into the room. “That was my father's charizard, Rex. He was such a fun pokemon to have around. He used to like it when I played with his feet.” The girl's face suddenly grew more solemn. “But one day ten years ago a giant minotaur came rampaging through the town. That thing was tearing everything apart. When Rex tried to defend us he was eaten. I'll never forget the way that minotaur happily slurped the charizard down.” Roxie downed the rest of her coffee, slamming the mug onto the dining room table. “Needless to say if I ever see that thing again, he'll be a very dead cow. That's why my father decided to install a safe escape route out of the town into safety. It's right under this house! It's best, since our home is in the center of town, it is the most accessible area. They're already on the other side. I plan on being there soon.”.
Rocky was nearly lost in the conversation. Previously he would have said that minotaurs are only mythological, but apparently not, and Roxie talked about one as if there were others. It seemed there was a lot the weavile didn't know. But the safe trail under her home reminded Rocky of what he was going to ask her. He wanted to ask about his friends.
Once he got her attention. He grabbed his tail with a claw and pretended to be painting, as if there was an invisible canvas in front of him.
“Uhh, are you trying to be a smeargle?” she asked confusedly.
Rocky smiled back, giving her a 'yes'. For his next charade he pretended to be flapping his wings.
“A pidgey? A pidove?”.
That wasn't enough. He stopped to face her and lifted his upper lip with a claw, revealing his sharp fangs.
“A gliscor?” Rocky gave another enthusiastic 'yes'. “Are they your friends?”
The weasel pokemon gave yet another yes, realizing his neck would probably be sore from all the nodding.
Roxie's pretty face grew sorrowful again and she played with her hair. “Im sorry, Weavile. I remember those two pokemon being taken by the new king's soldiers. They were like ten feet tall with mountains of armor! And their search hounds were the size of elephants! I don't know if you'll find them.”.
That was the answer Rocky had been expecting from the girl. But that didn't make him consider changing his mind about finding them. He would get them back.
Roxie apparently saw something in his eyes that showed her exactly what he was thinking. “I wish you the best of luck trying to get them back. My father the mayor is currently trying to get a secret army together. If he succeeds, know that if you can't save them, he may have a chance.”.
Rocky watched her with almost sadness as she walked over to the middle of the living room and removed the rug. Under it was a secret staircase leading to wherever safety was. She gripped her scary firearm tightly over her shoulder. “Your little fabrics will be nice and fresh in a few minutes. And hey, if there's anything I can do for you, you know where to find me.”.
With a wink she descended down the stairs, leaving nothing but silence behind her. Suddenly Rocky was aware of how alone he was. It was a feeling that he hoped he wouldn't have to endure for much longer. The only way to stop it was to defeat the new supposed nearly omnipotent king that was capturing everybody. With nothing left to do, Rocky slipped his gray accessories back onto his paws, and went out the door. He was heading straight for the forest.