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Description
Not too much fun if I kill off the main character right away, is it?

Manga Studio 3 and Photoshop CS3

Pokemon (c) Nintendo

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Without warning nor summons, Smokey's mind drifted several months into the past, back to a warm day that sported a cool breeze, which prompted her to snuggle closer to her mother's furry body.

Mama...

Ronar had been a pet Arcanine kept by a family with several children, two of which were pokemon trainers. Though she had no concrete evidence as to who her father might have been, Smokey had always assumed that it was the Houndoom that the boy trainer had kept in his party; after all, how could she have survived as long as she had in this horrific, nightmarish world if she didn't harbor the blood of a real battle pokemon in her veins?

Sometimes, just before the start of a match, Smokey would wonder if her destiny might've included being bound to a trainer, had this misfortunate turn of events not taken place. And what had become of her two beloved brothers, Triple X and BBQ?

The thought alone of her littermates caused a sudden surge throughout the growlithe's body; suddenly she was reminded of the reason why she didn't simply succumb during that first match--the desire to reunite with her family again. Pure white survival instinct engulfed her mind, and she felt her legs spring into action without thinking. Though not directed at her enemy, she executed a quick attack, just as Scythe plunged his claws downward.

The zangoose grinned wider with sickening satisfaction as he felt the familiar sticky splash of blood across his paw, and he dropped his gaze to admire his handiwork, only to find nothing but crimson splattered sand. Scythe's eyes shot open in utter shock; the idea that a target would have escaped his finishing blow, particularly someone as puny as a level 15 growlithe, simply did not register in his brain as possible, much less likely.

However, when he swiveled around to the opposite side of the ring, there stood Smokey, albeit panting and teetering, with no outward sign of damage aside from a badly shredded right ear.

Cold fury bloomed in Scythe's stomach and seeped into his bloodstream; how DARE this miserable pokemon evade what should have been a killing stroke, and on top of that, make him appear overconfident and foolish! She would pay.

Description
Not too much fun if I kill off the main character right away, is it?

Manga Studio 3 and Photoshop CS3

Pokemon (c) Nintendo

---------------------
Without warning nor summons, Smokey's mind drifted several months into the past, back to a warm day that sported a cool breeze, which prompted her to snuggle closer to her mother's furry body.

Mama...

Ronar had been a pet Arcanine kept by a family with several children, two of which were pokemon trainers. Though she had no concrete evidence as to who her father might have been, Smokey had always assumed that it was the Houndoom that the boy trainer had kept in his party; after all, how could she have survived as long as she had in this horrific, nightmarish world if she didn't harbor the blood of a real battle pokemon in her veins?

Sometimes, just before the start of a match, Smokey would wonder if her destiny might've included being bound to a trainer, had this misfortunate turn of events not taken place. And what had become of her two beloved brothers, Triple X and BBQ?

The thought alone of her littermates caused a sudden surge throughout the growlithe's body; suddenly she was reminded of the reason why she didn't simply succumb during that first match--the desire to reunite with her family again. Pure white survival instinct engulfed her mind, and she felt her legs spring into action without thinking. Though not directed at her enemy, she executed a quick attack, just as Scythe plunged his claws downward.

The zangoose grinned wider with sickening satisfaction as he felt the familiar sticky splash of blood across his paw, and he dropped his gaze to admire his handiwork, only to find nothing but crimson splattered sand. Scythe's eyes shot open in utter shock; the idea that a target would have escaped his finishing blow, particularly someone as puny as a level 15 growlithe, simply did not register in his brain as possible, much less likely.

However, when he swiveled around to the opposite side of the ring, there stood Smokey, albeit panting and teetering, with no outward sign of damage aside from a badly shredded right ear.

Cold fury bloomed in Scythe's stomach and seeped into his bloodstream; how DARE this miserable pokemon evade what should have been a killing stroke, and on top of that, make him appear overconfident and foolish! She would pay.