Chapter 1: The Scent of Lilies

Druid Fire

 

Chapter 1: The scent of Lilies

 

Disclaimer: The Plot, Characters, Technologies, Ideas, Daydreams, Genetically Modified Fruit, and Magics contained herein are purely from the imaginings of the author, and any resemblance to any Peoples, Situations, Technologies, Magics, Or Foodstuffs, real, or imagined, is purely coincidental. The author of this story does not claim any ownership to these works, and, by posting this on the Internet gives permission to all readers of a legal age to read this material in their respective country to reproduce this for their own enjoyment. This story contains, or will in future chapters contain, mild sex, explicit sex, violence, blood and gore, blasphemy (depending on your religion), crimes against nature, unrealistic situations which should not be attempted to be replicated by mortals or, come to think of it, immortals, run-on sentences, sentence fragments, techno babble, and confusing dialogue sequences.

 

 

 

The scent of a lily. The flash of a blade, the spray of blood. Another flash, pain, on the back of her head. Then, darkness.

With a gasp, Myria awoke to a burst of pain which receded almost as fast as it had begun, though the feel of multiple wounds stayed. There was a feeling of pressure, in ten points no less than a centimeter in diameter each, moving across her back, lingering for a second or two before moving on. As one point moved across her shoulder blades she could feel the wound on the back of her head seal up. As three more points moved in seemingly random directions she gasped as her arm relocated itself and the tendons healed.

 

The pressure stopped, and she just lay there for a few seconds, wondering what had happened. She smelled cotton sheets, of the kind used in hospitals. That was odd, her and her Tamer where in the woods, nowhere near a... James. She sat up, and immediately felt dizziness and was afraid she would fall until a hand grabbed her elbow. “Calm down now miss, you've had a bit of a concussion, and Mr. Richardsson hasn't been able to heal it since you woke up early, and putting you to sleep might cause brain damage” a voice, a womans, said. Myria trembled with fear and rage as recollection hit her.

 

Her and James had been walking through the forest, going on to the next town. James had stopped, and leaned down to pick a lily. He smelled it, shutting his eyes and reveling in the scent. James passed it to her and she did the same.

 

He reached over, tenderly touched her cheek and smiled. She smiled back, but her smile turned into a look of fear as she saw a Feral Ronin step out from behind a tree and draw her sword. James turned just in time to have his throat cut by what would have been a paralyzing blow. Myria screamed in rage, and threw herself at the girl, only to meet her blade. Myria dodged, but was struck by the very tip of the weapon, opening a cut that bled like crazy.

 

The next couple seconds seemed to be a blur, but she remembered being thrown, with her arm dislocating on the way down, and having her head slammed against a tree. After that, she saw the Ronin brandish her blade, and nothing more.

 

Wait...

 

She concentrated, trying to focus on the fuzzy memory. Ah. She wasn't really conscious then, but her mind continued to record the input regardless. The Ronin brandished her blade, readied for the killing stroke. Suddenly, just as the stroke began, a man dressed handsomely in black tight fitting clothes streaked out of a bush and, drawing an elegant English longsword, blocked the blow. He twisted inside her sword range and slashed her ribs with a dagger.

 

The Ronin clutched her wound, hissed in pain, sprung at him... And was met by a Pokeball going the other way. The man walked over to Myria and gently picked her up. Despite the fact that he was only breathing a little hard, and wasn't perspiring, he gave the impression of having come a long way off, and had run his hardest the whole way. Myria moaned weakly from the pain. The man looked at her, seemingly surprised, touched her neck, and everything faded to black.

 

Myria was jolted back to reality by the same voice from before “ Hmmm, yep that all checks out, it seems your memory wasn't damaged”. 'Oh, a psychic type' she thought warily 'A K-D-Bra, by the look of her'. “Yeah, Mr. Richardsson asked me to watch your vitals while he tends to the rest of the 'girls”. “So, am I in a Poke' center then?”Myria asked. “Oh, no. You're far from any Pokegirl center”. “Then...” she paused, “where am I?”

 

“You are far to the north, past the arctic circle. I could tell you exactly where we are, but Mr. Richardsson wanted to show you around and explain on the way.” Sensing the next question she said “Oh yes, Mr. Richardsson was both the one that saved you from the Ronin, and the one that healed you”. Myria moved experimentally, and was pleased with the fact that all of her external injuries and all of the internal, excluding the concussion, where fully healed. “He must know one hell of a healing spell then.”

 

“Hee hee.” she giggled “No silly, Mr. Richardsson doesn't know Magic. Hee hee.”

 

“Then did he use a potion?”

 

“No, see, potions are simply chemical mixtures that quicken the healing process, but these chemicals are produced in the body naturally, and Mr. Richardsson just presses the pressure points to release them.”

 

“That's amazing! I didn't know you could do that!”

 

“Well, most people can't, Mr. Richardsson studied the physical structures of Pokegirls for years. He was born with the ability to spot the points, but the sheer number of Pokegirl types made it slow going.”

 

“It sounds like Mr. Richardsson is very important.”

 

“Well, without him, our organization wouldn't be able to function. He is our medic, our founder, our leader, and he keeps all the virgin Pokegirls tame.”

 

“...Virgin... Pokegirls? How can they be Virgins and tame?”

 

The other girl blushed profusely “He has full knowledge of pressure points, he can do much more than heal wounds.”

 

“Ah, talking about me? Nothing bad I hope?” both girls turned around, startled. 'How is he so quiet? I didn't hear him at all!' 'I know, it happens to me all the time.' the girl thought back.

 

The man standing in front of them seemed rather young, about twenty seven, he was handsome, with skin best described as moon tanned, hair that was jet black, and perfectly formed mustache and goatee. The only weird thing about him where his eyes. They where light brown, not uncommon, but they seemed... old, and full of a deep sadness, but joy as well.

 

“Oh, no. Of course not Mr. Richardsson, I doubt there are negative things about you I could find, even if I looked!”

 

The joy fled his eyes, to be replaced by pain. “January 8^th, almost thirty years ago.” he said, looking strait at the girl, who immediately blanched and said indignantly

 

“That wasn't your fault Mr. Richardsson. The fault lies on no one”.

 

“Thirty years ago?!” Myria spluttered “But you can't be more than twenty seven!”

The joy returned

 

“Can't I be? Well the world works in strange ways.” he chortled “Can't be under twenty seven! Ah, you do my heart good!” he shook his head, still grinning. “Anyway Miss, would you like a tour of our humble abode?”

 

“She is healthy enough to walk, isn't she?” this last bit directed at the nurse, who smiled and nodded in a way that clearly stated that if Mr. Richardsson thought she was strong enough, then who was she to argue.

 

“I'd love to, and please, call me Myria.”

 

“Alright Myria, try not to get too overwhelmed, it's pretty impressive.” he said, leading her to the door

 

They stepped out into blinding sunlight and mild summer weather, not hot enough to make you sweat, but not cold enough to make you feel chilly, just the right temperature for both humans, and pokegirls. Once her eyes adjusted they widened in disbelief before shutting quickly in pain, that light was bright. They where on the roof of a two-story hospital. She saw...

 

A town. And fields of fruit and vegetable plants. And beyond the fields, where miles and miles of grass, as far as the eye can see. And all of this was under a dome of glass over a mile high.

 

There where picnic areas, and restaurants, and houses, and even a pub. There where theaters, a school, a gym too. All of the buildings had solar panels covering the roofs.

 

“The whole thing is about 110 kilometers square, with 80 square kilometers of produce fields, a kilometer for chickens and pigs, which are fed anything unsuitable for human consumption, twenty kilometers for buildings and roads, and 9 kilometers of grassland. All our electricity is generated from solar panels and Geo-thermal generators.”

 

“We get our water from an underground lake directly beneath us. We filter it, pump it down to a level where it instantly turns to steam, which rises and turns the generators. We then condense it, use it to drink, water plants, etcetera, etcetera. We filter it again, pump it down to generate some more electricity, and then pump it back into the underground lake.” he said, gesturing animatedly as he walked, pointing out things as he conversed.

 

“We lose only about a liter of water every year from this process, which is restored when it rains, and when we come back from travel and use the facilities.” He had a glint of pride in his eye that said, 'I designed it. I funded it. I helped build it. It is my greatest work. It is Paradise' and she had no trouble believing any of it, as he continued.

 

“The only waste produced here is natural body waste, which is first removed from the water and put in the composting tank, which contains bacteria to break down the waste so it can be used by plants. Then the compost is put in storage tanks until harvest time, when it is put on the earth after the harvest to help replenish nutrients.”

 

Myria, feeling she had found a flaw in the plan asked “But how do you get rid of the gases that build up when waste is composted?”

 

He looked delighted at the question “ Good question, it's nice to see you're using your head! We separate the gases through a long and boring process, any combustible gases are used in repair work requiring welding or other such things, and the toxic gases are either separated into their base elements and made useful, put in canisters which we give to the field teams who request them, or put into aforesaid canisters and sell them discretely to bounty hunters, extreme tamers looking for a way to get immunity to those gases, or anyone else who wants them.”

 

“Anymore questions? No? Well, I'll take you to lunch, show you your home, and see if any more questions spring to mind.” As he led her to one of the many restaurants around town, Myria looked around with wonder, asking questions about anything that came to mind, he grinned, clearly delighted that she was taking such an interest in what was obviously his lives work.

 

“How did you make the dome?” “Well, first we constructed a dome out of steel and spread sand on it. We had seven phsychic types, I think they where Ala-K-Whams, to create a dome of telekinesis to hold it in place. A bunch of fire types where carried by the pokegirls that could fly so they could use Flamethrower to melt the sand. After it cooled, we enchanted it so it wouldn't collapse under it's own weight and removed the steel dome. As a side effect the dome is now impregnable to pretty much everything.”

 

“What did you do with the steel afterwards?”

 

“All of the pieces where made to be used in construction afterwards. A lot of it went into the Geo-thermal generators, as pipes to pump the water and such. All the leftover steel was either sold or put in storage for future repairs.”

 

“ Ok, but how did you...” “Whoa, stop, stop!” they had arrived at a fairly large restaurant, of the kind that serves almost any kind of food. “You can grill me after lunch, Ok?” She smiled at the obvious pun “Alright, lets eat, I'm famished!”

 

The waiters seemed to know exactly what they should both have, and brought cobs of corn, buttered peas, and a small pork-chop for him. She got a salad, with almonds, fresh lettuce, cherry tomatoes, what tasted like Havarti cheese, and strawberries. Also, there was a strange, mildly purple fruit, which was sweet and best described as tasting how sunlight feels, and a smell akin to the feeling of happiness for them both to share. “What's this thing” she said, motioning to the remains of the purple fruit “and how can it smell of happiness and taste of sunlight?”

 

“It was Bio-engineered to transfer 77% of it's energy to the consumer, instead of the usual 10%.” he explained. “And the taste and smell was a side effect?” she asked. “No, I just like the smell of happiness.” there was an awkward pause as the pokegirl stared at him.

 

“Well, what is it?”

 

“That”, he said with emphasis as he pointed toward the fruit, “is an Awesome fruit”.

 

“I know it's awesome, but what is it called?” he stared at her blankly for a few seconds, seeing if she was joking, or dumb, or both.

 

“I just said that it's an Awesome fruit. That's it's name”.

 

“Ah, I see.” she said, but she didn't. Not really. “So, why is it called...” she paused for a second “An Awesome fruit”?

 

“Because”, he explained patiently as he attempted to get the last bit of meat off his very small pork chop, “It is Awesome” he finished triumphantly as he succeeded in scraping the last bit of sustenance off the bone.

 

She stared at him blankly for a second, and decided it was just one of those weird things you can't do anything about. “Why didn't you have a larger pork chop?” she asked as he wrestled the marrow from the bone. “Because”, he grunted, prying another ounce of marrow out “I requested that my food be rationed by a doctor to provide the best balance of nutrition, and I've had quite a lot of bacon this morning”.

 

They sat for a while, with only the occasional sound from fellow diners, and from Mr. Richardssons determined way of sucking every nutrient from his food. “So”, she said cautiously “how much is the food, I don't have any money, and...” her chest tightened in pain from the loss “James, my tamer, is dead”.

 

He looked at her appraisingly “Everything here is free.” he said quietly.

 

“Is that because your the leader?” she said, angry and upset at her tamers death as she was, she wanted to take it out on somebody.

 

“Leader, me? Not at all. I may be the founder, but I'm not the leader. Everything here is free. The food, the clothing, the health care services, everything”.

 

“Well then, why does anyone work?” she said, wiping her tears and berating herself for taking her anger out on someone who had only been kind to her.

 

“We work because we want to and there is no other option. If no-one worked, we would all starve, since all our food is produced here, and almost all our work is on agriculture.” he explained carefully.

 

“Each person only has to work three days a week. But anyone caught dodging work without good reason when they are on the rota is first given a warning, A second offense requires them being denied food until they either show remorse, or until it would be dangerous to their health if we kept it from them any longer. A fourth offense would be imprisonment for up to a year with minimum food”. And then, so quiet she could barely hear it; “A sixth offense is punishable by a mind wipe of any information about our village, and Banishment”.

 

She didn't know how, but he just managed to pronounce the capital B in Banishment. They sat there for a while. Finally, someone spoke. “Sorry about that.” Myria muttered apologetically “It's just...”. “I understand.” he said, interrupting her in mid sentence. He looked at her, and she noticed the sadness in his eyes again, and wondered what had caused it, what had happened those thirty years ago? “Would you like to see him?” he asked quietly. “What?” she asked, startled. “Would you like to see his body?” he repeated. She hesitated, wondering how she would react to the site of her dead companion. Finally she decided “Yes, I... I'd like that very much... Thank you”.

 

Back at the Hospital, in a back room, James was laid out on a stretcher with a sheet over him. Myria walked over slowly and pulled it back. The blood had been cleaned off of him, the cut in his neck, the only wound on him, gaped open, revealing that it had cut all the veins and arteries on the left side of his neck, as well as cutting his larynx.

 

Mr. Richardsson stepped up behind her, and laid a hand on her shoulder. She didn't know she had been shaking and crying until she suddenly stopped. She looked back at him, tears still lingering in her eyes, and saw... sadness. A deep, overwhelming sadness that made her want to cry again.

 

“He was still alive when I got there, but he was delirious from the blood loss.” he said. “I brought him back, and tried my best, but my healing only works on humans if they have enough Pokegirl blood in them”.

 

“The nurses, maybe a Magic type?” she asked, although she already knew the answer.

 

“Not even Magic could have healed him in time, the blood loss was too great, and his lungs where flooded.”

 

“We had a psychic check what his Will was before he died”.

 

She nodded solemnly.

 

“He had precognition, you know”.

 

She gave a start, surprised “No, he never told me”.

 

“He didn't have the power to see his own future, only other peoples, and only when it didn't involve him directly.”

 

“He knew he was going to die, because he saw your future stretch on, and he would never leave you”.

 

She still felt sadness, and grief, but it was bearable now, and she realized that he was calming her in the same manner he had healed her. “He entrusts your Pokeball to you. He also left a message for you. He says he's sorry it had to end. He wants you to know that he loves you. He says that you have a bright future, and to not lose hope, no matter how black it seems”.

 

“Thank you”. Then she asked “What where you doing, close enough to see what was happening?”

 

He sighed, took his hand off her shoulder and replied “I was scouting James out”. He sighed again at her confused look

 

“You see, this village is populated by roughly 4,000 individuals, about half pokegirls, and half humans. We made this as a haven for pokegirls, and all the like-minded humans who see pokegirls as people”.

 

“So...” she said, working it out “you where seeing how James treated me, and if he treated me like another human, then you would have brought us here?”

 

“Yes.” he replied sadly, “I had made my decision earlier that day. That night, after you had made camp, I would have come to offer a place here”.

 

“I know what you're going through...”. She suddenly cut him off

 

“No, you don't.” she said coldly. “You'll never know”.

 

He paused. “Thats what I thought, 20 years ago. No one knows this pain. No one, but me.” they stood in silence for what seemed like days, but was only minutes.

 

Finally, he spoke: “You can sleep here tonight, I'll ask one of the nurses to make up a bed for you.” and then he left. She remained staring at the empty door frame until the nurse wheeled a hospital bed in. After the nurse left, she collapsed onto the bed. And cried.

 

 

And that is the end of chapter one. I am currently still writing the story, so it is very flexible, if you have a character, technology, magic spell, genetically modified fruit, genetically modified killer rabbit or other randomness that you would like to see in the story, then you can contact me at: This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it., (necron referring to a race in the board game Warhammer 40k) or you can post your ideas in the reviews. Please review, reviews are the grease that keeps a writers mind going! Also, if you have suggestions as to 'girls to be in there, it would be appreciated, as slogging through the 'dex can be tedious, unproductive, and overly entertaining if you don't know exactly what your looking for.

 

Thank you in advance, and see you next time. This is Good_Omens, signing off!

 

Dex and Character Enhancements Chart:

 

 

Mr. Richardsson:

 

Species: Human

 

Height: 6” 11'

 

Build: Seems to be fit, broader shoulders than one might expect with his height.

 

 

Natural Abilities:

-Touch of the Gods: Mr. Richardsson was born with the ability to release chemicals throughout the body by manipulating pressure points, while only the ability to heal and tame without taming are mentioned, there is evidence that he can control emotions in this way as well. It is implied that this ability has many other applications, but as to what they are, Myria can only guess. While it is said that Mr. Richardsson was born with this ability, there are no records of a bloodgift of this description.

 

-Endurance: The ability to physically exert himself indefinitely without exhaustion is implied in the circumstances of Myria's first encounter with him, as he would have to have been watching them from a long way off for them to not notice him. May be the result of a bloodgift.

 

-Enhanced Speed x?: The speed at which he got to the scene of the attack from so far away, and the fact that he was at least as fast as the Ronin suggests either faster movements or faster reaction time than a normal human (in woods, reaction time can greatly speed up movement. You can't go fast if there is a tree stuck in your head). May be the result of a bloodgift.

 

Enhancements:

-Longevity: Myria doesn't know much about this enhancement as of yet, but Mr. Richardsson is very old by his own account, and that of a minor character. May be the result of a bloodgift.

 

Myria: Sorry, but I didn't have time to find a suitable match, and it doesn't really matter cause she changes next chapter. She's supposed to be a type of bunny, but one that isn't really good for battling, so that it's believable that the Ronin beat her so easily, if you have a suggestion, then I'll edit the story so other readers will know.

 

 

I will be explaining Mr. Richardssons powers as Myria understands them, and as the story progresses, I will add more info to the ones listed, and also add his other powers as they are revealed to Myria.