Maou
*)Mauville City - 05:32, Samhain, 2010(*
He knew he had to abandon his trainer now. There was no way around it. Grabbing the small blood-red gemstone out of her pocket, the creature skittered away, getting out of sight just down the hall as he heard the crash and a yell from his trainer. He did not bother to look back; he knew exactly what was happening to her, and what would have happened to her Pokemon still in their balls had he not freed them and told them to leave Hoenn as soon as possible. They all seemed reluctant, but complied.

Knowing that these maniacs would kill him the moment they discovered he had their ritual focus, he flipped it around and swallowed it, hoping they couldn't detect it through his skin and muscle. Almost immediately he regretted it, as it instantly gave him a horrendous case of heartburn. He gagged a bit, but ran out of the Pokemon Center, opting to flee to the east.

*)-(*
It had all begun 48 hours ago, when his trainer, while camping in the woods, came across a small altar with what looked to be a small ruby stick on it. The altar itself was black and twisted, and even through the Pokeball the funk of forty thousand years of corruption almost overwhelmed the ball's built-in climate-control system. This particular Pokemon heard the cries for help from the lost souls... "Peekatsuuu..."... Help me...

Even before the trainer took the stone, this one knew exactly what it was. It was an altar to a being so powerful, so frightening, that he dare not try to even think of its name.... and that stone was the athame used to conduct sacrifices on his holiest night, All Hallows' Eve. A part of his mind figured the irony would be lost on his neopagan trainer, whom believed not in Hallowe'en, but in the holiday of summer's end, Samhain, which was two days away and coincided with that night of palpable darkness. A part of him wanted to warn her, but it was suppressed by the rational half, who believed that the trainer would not understand what the hell he said...

*)6:00(*
The Pokemon ran until he could run no more, pausing for breath in front of an electronics store, which was showing the local news. He didn't bother listening much, even when the anchorman said that his trainer had, as he had feared, been murdered by the monsters. The anchorman did not describe much details, which suggested to him that she had most likely been raped as well.

"Hey!"

The Pokemon eeped and fled into an alleyway, jumping into a dumpster and under a bag of trash. Whomever it was gave chase, but could not find him beneath the refuse and left. Ten minutes passed, then he climbed out of the dumpster and looked around. To his right was a sight that made his blood run cold.

A Gardevoir and four Houndoom were standing there, as if they had been waiting for him. The Gardevoir's normally pallid skin was turning a reddish hue by its hands, and its "skirt" and hair were both stained blood-red. Its crimson eyes seemed to glow red. The hell-hounds seemed larger than normal. The Gardevoir held out a hand. Rather than submit, the scared creature ran, out to the east, wanting to get as far away from these maniacs as he could. He could have zapped them, of course, but only one at a time, and a five-on-one fight would have been suicidal for him.

Slinking underneath a window, he found himself in view of the eastern exit. However, he also saw two hell-hounds guarding it. There was no way he'd get out in that manner. He looked around for another way, but noticed there were more hell-hounds approaching from behind. Thinking quickly, he saw a fence in front of him, about thirty feet away. With no other options, he shot for the fence, the approaching Houndoom trying to cut him off. He was faster than they were by dint of being smaller, however, and hopped the fence quickly.

Hiding beside a house, he looked at the southern exit, only to groan as he saw two more hell-hounds protecting it. He was about to flee when he noticed a human walk directly through one of them, his legs treating the creature like it was air. Armed with this information, he sprinted for the exit, dashing through the Houndoom illusion as it spat fire at him. A singe on his tail told him that the other hell-hound was no illusion, which served to only make him run even faster, as if that... demon... itself were after him. The true hell-hound either refused to gave chase, or was exhausted by the gout of flame.

Dashing into the tall grass - where he had lived before being captured - he laid low, covering himself with fallen leaves and clipped grass stalks to hide his yellow body. He was not going to be captured again if he could help it, especially not by the fiendish Gardevoir. Realizing the hell-hounds would have a good sense of smell, he avoided pissing himself and looked about for a pile of dung to roll in, finding none. He looked up to see the hell-hounds running at him.

He squeezed his eyes shut, fearing a flash of teeth, a gout of fire, or, if the fiendish Gardevoir followed, a sudden and explosive brain expansion. It never came. He looked up to see that the hell-hounds were running down the path and away from him. A thought crossed his mind that they were attempting to corral him in one area to be caught (since these Houndoom were smarter than your average specimen) but then realized, when they started incinerating grass, that they were actively hunting him. He looked about for a safe spot to hide, and quickly dismissed the nearby water. He had no idea what was in it or whether the Gardevoir turned the aquatic denizens against him, and in any case he could not enter without potentially electrocuting every innocent Pokemon in the lake.

As if to read his mind, the Gardevoir spoke. < Sooner or later, we'll find you... and you will regret defying the will of the Living Nightmare. >
Looking about again, the frightened Pokemon noticed that two hell-hounds had come in from the opposite end of the route and were likewise setting the grass ablaze. It was at about this time he realized that there was no hope for him escaping this situation alive... short of acquiescence. He shook the grass off and gave a shout, laying on his belly. The hell-hounds dashed towards him, and the yellow Pokemon feared that he was going to die. Rather than tear into him, though, they simply used their teeth to grab each of his limbs, dragging him back into Mauville, where the Gardevoir was waiting.

< I see you've decided to surrender... the only wise decision you've yet made all day. Now hand over the athame. > The Pokemon, powerless to resist but at the same time unable to do this, shook his head. < No? Then where did you hide it? No matter... >
The Gardevoir held a hand out, and right away the Pokemon felt an unnatural warmth in his stomach, as if his belly juices were boiling. He started to vomit, unable to handle the torment, and with one heave the athame was stuck in the ground by its tip, none the worse for wear. The Gardevoir smiled.

< Take him to the altar. He will be our first sacrifice tonight. >
The Gardevoir slipped a small floppy sack out of her dress, and that was the last thing the Pokemon would see that day.

*)22:00 - Shrine(*
He woke sixteen hours later to the screams and cries of several other Pokemon, some wild, most of them, like he, stolen from their trainers by the trainer's death or brutality. He tried to move, but found that he was restrained with psychic bonds. Looking up, he saw the silhouette of the full moon behind storm clouds, and he leaned his head back down once he realized it was raining. A flash of thunder didn't help.

The Gardevoir was up front, addressing a likewise dourly-accoutred crowd in a language that the Pokemon could not identify. He thought to himself that it maybe was most likely an invocation to their god. He looked at the altar, which had been sanctified with scorch marks from the hell-hounds.

The Gardevoir turned around and pointed at him. He gulped, and looked to his sides. Two hell-hounds were approaching from either side, and roughly tugged him out of the psionic restraints. Panicking, he looked up just as another flash of lightning struck, and it gave him an idea. The only problem would be pulling it off before he was sacrificed to the Living Nightmare.

The hell-hounds roughly placed him on the altar, where the Gardevoir's hand pinned him down, uttering an invocation. It was now or never.

He quickly gathered a burst of energy and sent it skyward, hoping that the lightning storm was close enough to strike the Gardevoir down before he could die. For a moment, however, he suspected he gravely miscalculated when he dodged to the right a bit to try and keep from sudden death when the athame plunged into him. He screamed loudly - dear God, the pain was horrible! It felt like his insides were on fire and melting! He took a ragged breath - the athame punctured his lung, but barely missed his heart.

< You're not... is ti... > The Gardevoir's threat became fuzzy as it pulled the athame up again and aimed it. Just as the athame made contact with his body and he felt his life forfeit, a bolt of lightning screamed down from the heavens with a loud crack of thunder, deafening the crowd. He felt the athame vanish as he got a close look at the Gardevoir, who screamed in what he could only describe as the most anguish-laden cry in history. Her eyes shone white and her open mouth expelled a dark yellow light, then a flash... and he knew and felt no more. His final thought before blacking out was that his trainer would have loved to see this unholy altar annihilated.

*)November 3, 2010(*
A human walking in the woods seeking a campsite stopped in front of what looked like a blackened cairn of stones, in front of which was him - the survivor of the sacrifice, the one whom had broken the spell worked by the Gardevoir on her followers. He started to stir.

"Hey, man, get up!" The human rushed forward and gently grabbed him, helping him up to his feet. He opened his eyes, and for a moment, thought he was being picked up. Upon looking down, he was shocked to notice that he was much taller... and much slimmer... than he was before. He looked at his hands, and was shocked to see opposable thumbs on his red hands. He felt his ears, his face, his tail... What the hell happened to him?

"Are you alright? It's not normal for someone to be wearing a costume in November," said his rescuer.

"Pa... parusu..." said the still-shocked creature. Was this a reward for destroying the Gardevoir? He looked about him, and noticed that not only were the cages empty, but the dirt had the look of having been tamped, probably by the hundreds of footpaws. Remembering he'd had his lung punctured, he felt his chest. No wound. He felt perfectly fine there. Only one thought remained in his mind...

What am I?