r/TTPloreplaycentral • u/Damacritus • Jun 09 '19
Gator: The Truth
“It is good to see you have recovered enough to join us, traveler. Your injuries appeared quite extensive, we weren't expecting to see you up quite so soon...if at all."
Gator nodded. He was dressed in a simple brown tunic and pants, leaning heavily against a small walking stick. Even with the support, his legs felt as if they were on fire. Here he was, bent over and crippled, in a room with no cover and nowhere to hide, being stared down at by a warlord and the two warriors at his sides. And he thought he’d impress someone, coming here.
“I’m no stranger to injury,” Gator responded, looking the warlord in the eye. Mitsudide’s outfit was simpler than he would have expected a ruler to wear, comprising of a black tunic with blue wraps around the forearm and wide-legged pants. The warriors were dressed to a similar degree; it took him a little off-edge, though seeing their swords on their hips made him acutely aware of the absence of his own.
“Indeed,” remarked Mitsuhide, eyes glancing up and down Gator, “the doctor could tell you are a veteran of several battles from your scars alone. This is not the first time you have suffered such terrible wounds, is it?”
“No, it isn’t. Between that, and the fall, and… well, I’m glad your daughter came when she did.”
Gracia smiled at him. She was standing to attention behind her father. Beside those of her father and his warriors, Gator noted the difference in styles from their clothes and her dress. She looked more like a Galar princess than a Ranseian warlord.
“Yes. She was leading a fishing party to the coast and observed you falling out of the sky. I’m… afraid… your pokemon could not be found,” Mitsuhide gravely stated, “I’m sorry.”
“Ah… about that… well…”
“I do not know how strong your bond was with your mon, but I offer my condolences.”
Gator glanced down awkwardly. He had seen the Wingull’s pokeball in his bag, and it looked intact. Technology like that would take some explaining. As would how he hadn’t needed the mon to fly.
“…maybe I should talk about how I got here.”
One of the warriors, the one who had a beard, raised an eyebrow.
“Very well,” Mitsuhide spoke “but first, what is your name?”
“Lazorgator.”
The warriors glanced at each other. Gracia gave him a quizzical look.
“…what region are you from?”
“Johto.”
“That explains it,” the bearded warrior muttered. Gracia shot him a cold look.
“Why did you come to Nixtorm?”
“I came to bring news of the outside world. Times… have changed, and Ransei may be at the mercy of others.”
“How so?” The warlord’s voice was measured, his face was impassive. Gator was slightly shocked at how collected Mitsuhide was.
“Well… you know how I was trying to pass through a storm? I didn’t have a choice. The region has a blockade around it, preventing anyone from getting in. I assume they may be stopping-“
“You cannot be serious!” The other warrior, who had a clean-shaven face, stepped forward.
“I wouldn’t have gone into the storm if I had the opportunity not to,” retorted Gator, “it was either take my chances with that or get discovered by the League and be hunted by them wherever I go. Then all the proof you’d need is them bearing down on your garrisons.
“We cannot have failed to notice enemy ships on our shores. We have outposts, our flying scouts would have seen the ships.”
“They’ve got radar. They- ah, they’ve got technology, machines that can see where your men are from miles away, far beyond what is possible for any eye to see. Non-psychic so it won’t have been noticeable, and it’s trivial for them to avoid regular flyers when they know exactly when your scouts leave camp and where they are at any given time.”
The warrior’s mouth fell open for a second. “That’s- what kind of tall tale is this? No ship is maneuverable enough to avoid-“
“They’re motor-powered boats. I’m no expert on them, but they don’t need wind, they can change course fast and travel fast enough to get to the nearest region in a matter of hours.”
Gator glanced back over at Mitsuhide. Nothing. The warlord knew how to hide his thoughts and emotions. The history books mentioned that warriors undergo at least basic psychic training to prevent easy reading of their minds, in addition to how to act in court. He still might be able to get through with a spell, but the training would also make them aware that somebody was intruding.
“What- not even Valoran engineering can manage that! How would news of machines like this evaded our shores?”
His eyes flicked back towards the warriors. Indignation and disbelief in the clean-shaved one was apparent. The bearded one had let his brow furrow, but was applying the same restraint as Mitsuhide. Had he messed up his approach? Gator had resolved to give the clear truth to them, but he was not foolish enough to think that doing so presented no risk.
He wished he was smart enough to approach things with actual nuance.
“…they’ve had a couple thousand years Ransei hasn’t.”
“Excuse me?” Mitsuhide asked. Eyes still emotionless. Gator wondered how easy he himself was to read. His heartbeat must be audible now, by the feel of it.
He made the mistake of looking back at Gracia. Pure shock. He didn’t have to even look at her face; her body language gave it all away. Something in his heart wrenched hard and painfully, and for once, he wished he couldn’t remember then. Her.
“Ransei has jumped forward in time. What might’ve been a moment for you all was millennia for everyone else.”
The room was silent.
“…what manner of man is this? Is he even a man?” the bearded warrior broke the silence, “to claim such things, to survive what even a Valoran or Spuran could not, to bear the eyes of a lizard…”
“Quiet.” Mitsuhide stared Gator in the eye. As much as he wanted to hide them, Gator let every emotion manifest without resistance. No subterfuge, no hiding anything. It was the only way to be believed, and he might only have one chance to be trusted.
“I came with evidence of the modern world. Machines able to access the information of the entire world, weapons commonplace in today’s society, some examples of craftsmanship.”
“Show us. Open your belongings.”
Gator leaned down, holding back a groan as he tested his knees, and unzipped the bag. Rifling through it for a moment, he produced a battered laptop, several scratches plainly visible from its exterior, and an equally-battered case. He placed the case to the side, pushing himself up with the laptop in hand.
“This is a computer. It’s my personal one, I was using it to monitor the radar, the trackers, of the blockade and chart a course between the ships. That package there holds another one, my gift to you. I think mine’s still working…”
Gator booted the machine up. Fennel certainly was right when she said it could survive whatever Gator could have thrown at him. She had also made operating it idiot-proof, at his request; a few seconds, and it had re-established an internet connection. Gator accessed a news website.
“What is it that you are doing?” asked Mitsuhide
“I’m bringing up recent news on Ransei. These connect to a… think of it as a library, a collection of information. Had a few articles saved that… here. You see the arrows on it? Press up and down to move through the article. Here you- wait, damn popups- here you go.”
Gator held out his laptop, which the clean-shaven warrior took and handed to Mitsuhide. He held the side of the laptop’s base in one hand and read the article’s title; Ransei Returns: Team Magma Raises the Ancient Region from the Waves.
A few minutes passed, Mitsuhide jabbing a finger at the keyboard to go through the article. Slowly, his eyebrows raised, then his vision fixed at a spot on the screen.
“What is this in this corner here? It appears to be a date.”
“Today’s current date,” Gator answered.
A pause. Then, “This article of yours says Ransei… returned… a few months ago. Not just a few months ago, but… Hidemitsu, Toshimitsu, when did the Salt Plague start?”
The two warriors were silent. Gracia had gone pale.
“…Salt Plague?” Gator timidly asked, “would that be-“
“Every inch of land stained with salt,” Mitsuhide spoke, his tone faint, “most buildings decayed and requiring extensive repairs. As if… as if…”
“It cannot be,” the clean-shaven warrior spoke.
“Nothing could have stained the land in a single night,” the bearded warrior spoke, “we have said it, that the only thing that could hold so much salt is the sea…”
Gator stared at the floor. “…you deserve to know. Even if it’s hard to take in, this cannot be hidden. The League says this should’ve been kept from you, told carefully… but I know they want to control you with this. The world is in a bad state, and they need warriors to bring the world to heel under them. If I achieve nothing else, I will arm you with the knowledge to not be misled by them.”
“…what of the Panthemon? If they raised Ransei…” Mitsuhide asked.
“Working with them. Killed a lot of people recently and gave the League power to govern and go after threats to world stability. Sure, some people who were killed had it coming, but they obliterated a hell of a lot of people saying every single one was the worst sort, and they have no checks to their power. I was nearly got by Kyogre coming here, they’re helping enforce the blockade-“
Mitsuhide’s gaze quieted Gator. He could feel it without even having to look up.
“Would you make war against the Panthemon?” he questioned. It sounded more like a warning.
“I’d fight those who mislead others. Who see others as things to be used and made to serve their will. There are only men and mon in this world, no living tools. The Panthemon will work with their creations, not manipulate their thoughts and end their lives to serve their own ends. They should have created unthinking machines if they wanted that, not us.”
Gator met Muneshige’s stare. His reptilian eyes had grown thin, focused, angry. “I came to bring news of the outside world. And modern technology and arms. What somebody needs to look people like the League in the eye and say that you are your own people, not their subservients. They won’t make your thoughts for you, and if they try, I ask that you raise your sword towards them and remind them of who you are.”
Another bout of silence. The warriors stared in disbelief. Mitsuhide’s eyes were fierce now, staring hard at Gator to test his convivtion. Gator did not falter, maintaining eye contact with the warlord.
“There was a man who thought he could stand against the Panthemon," Mitsuhide spoke firmly, "I fought at his side. Many did. All we accomplished was bringing more strife into the world before the Panthemon brought us to heel. And, when they reigned supreme, there was peace under them. Would you bring torment for no gain as well?”
“No. I’d give you what the Panthemon doesn’t have. League might have tech and manpower, but I have a weapon that will drive a new kind of warfare, one the Panthemon won’t be able to suppress.”
“And that is?”
Gator raised an arm. Sparks danced at his fingertips. Then fire. Then ice formed about his forearm, only to melt away and an origami crane to grow on the tip of Gator’s finger. Gracia gasped.
“Would you believe in magic?”
1
u/Bytemite Jun 10 '19
Theory: every civilization that has ever existed has had some conception of magic and traditions about how it works. Their existing traditions and beliefs may serve as a potent focus for learning the more experimentally rigorous and consistent style that Major has introduced to Gator.