#/- I'm too lazy to drop their bios rn but I'll do so next post!

[stranded-warriors]

 Although it is dark in, there is still sound. A constant crackling, things and structures snapping. It wasn't the ambiance he'd come to expect of his new home, there he was more worried about getting caught in a firestorm than an actual fire. Wherever he was, where ever here was supposed to be, he found himself warm, quite warm indeed. When his eyes fluttered themselves open after many moments of writhing on a cold, flat floor, he found himself surrounded by a great orange glow.

 The pitch-white marble wasn't entirely new, but the architecture and the very material this entire chamber was built from was entirely alien. He was in a palace, or some similarly romantic place made entirely of crystal to the hard checkerboard floors to the high ceilings where a crystal chandelier used to be before it was turned into dust by a gargantuan, flaming object. A red hot boulder had burst through a wall then became lodged into the other, scorching everything in its path and still melting the wall its become a fixture to. Had it somehow flown at a different angle, it was likely he'd have joined the chandelier in becoming ground into dust. Fate, or a sheer stroke of undeserved luck was the only reason he was still breathing right now. The same couldn't possibly be said of this building.

 All around were chunks of quartz, stone which seemed to have been chipped off the glowing red rock, and similarly crystal furniture which had been decimated by the meteor. Looking to where it had come from there what was left of a colorful mural depicting who knows what strewn all over the floor and beyond the giant hole in the wall was a sky, or a lack thereof. A most beautiful night where cosmic bodies twinkled with the utmost clarity, something he'd much love to get a better look at when he wasn't inside of a burning tower but considering everything on his mind, the fire was the least of his problems.

 His ears hadn't quite adjusted themselves to hearing, and there was nothing about the fellow's physiology as a Quilava – a fire type, that kept smoke from getting into his beady eyes. There had to be a way out of this mess before it came tumbling down on his head, or worse he'd be detained for obviously having started this mess. It's going to be real hard trying to convince people the flame he's got roaring on his head somehow didn't spark this entire mess. No, he wasn't likely to be detained, but yes it was better to be safe than sorry. By time he had gotten off the floor he'd already seen his way out blocked by what appeared to be a whole roof's worth of rubble.

 No problem, he must've thought to himself as he approached the priceless blockade, he'll just find a slip between the cracks. He began to sift through whatever bits he could move with his tiny hands, looking into the seams, and after he had lifted a considerably larger piece from the heap he saw a clear path to the next hall over.

 That was when he heard a sound different from all the burning. It was muffled like the rest; however, it had more reason to it than the chaotic ambiance, for that reason it stuck out to him. Quilava's whole body perked up as he listened for what it came from, and no more than two meters away did he find its source squirming under another mound of quartz. Just as luckily for whoever was behind the yellow furry arm sticking out from the earth, they hadn't been completely crushed, just stuck. It was likely he couldn't do much for them other than offer the fellow words of encouragement, and frankly, he was not prepared to have someone's life be trusted into his hands.

 He spoke something to the effect of “I'll come back with help”, but how was he was supposed to tell what he said when he couldn't hear a thing, he didn't know nor did he truly have any plan on coming back. Saving this person was a problem for the next person to stumble into himself, so he pushed onward.. Not a second later he was out in a hall.

 There wasn't much in way of tinder for the fire to possibly grow beyond this room or two, nor were there anything to catch fire in the hall to a point where the rug wasn't even real, just something which was painted on the stone to give the impression the architect was someone of class. Thanks to each three meters or so of the curved hallway being covered in smaller windows he was able to tell he wasn't as high up as first thought, and what he thought was a palace he trashed by sheer coincidence was one of thousands of oddly shaped “towers” strewn about these lands, cut from the same imposing material and of varying degrees of shape and transparency. The sky was uncharacteristically bright, and as clear as nights he only thought possible in dreams. Of the closest among millions of uncountable objects in the sky was a sphere he could only describe as being entirely made from storms which absolutely dwarfed whatever this strange city was.

 For the few minutes he spent staring at the skyline in pure amazement, the fire-type's ears flickered and flickered till they popped on their own. Everything sounded a bit more clear now, even if it didn't change the fact it was all pretty deafening. He would've liked to test his new found clarity and see he couldn't what the poor sod back there was on about, but the moment he looked back to the hole a loud bang yanked his attention back to the hallway where he saw the next door over fly right open. The corpse, or the unconscious body of a dragon-type was hurled out into the hallway like a rag-doll. He only looked long enough to catch a glimpse of their assailant charging out from their room and descending on them, swinging lethal punches left and right as the sounds of more guards came barreling down the hallway.

 Liking his chances in the fire, he reluctantly crawled back to whence he came till he reached the burning chamber again. There must've been something inside the giant rock because everything was still on fire, the ceiling wasn't fairing much better either but provided he stayed in the parts which had already caved in there wasn't much to worry in regards to a chunk of the roof coming down on him. Much to his earlier dismay, this time around he was able to hear the little hand sticking out from the rubble.

 “Someone's there?” the arm spoke weakly, “You- You've come to save me, right?”

 The fire-type coughed, the smoke must be getting to him.

 “Right?”

 He walked over the mound, and grasped whatever loose bits of the stone he could get his hands on. By no means was he qualified for digging people out of graves, he wasn't even a good fighter, but it was the least he could do. Several longer pieces of rubble have folded over the person on the inside, so if he could roll one or two rocks off the pokemon-shaped mound the person will at least have a better time getting out on their own. Sure enough, right after he had removed a sizable chunk away the buried pokemon began to wriggle, and after the second they got both arms out. Whereas they were completely immobile seconds ago, they were slowly making their way out using their hands to grasp, pull and drag themselves out from the dirt.

 A minute or two later they were sprawled out onto the floor huffing and puffing as thick beads of sweat ran from down their head. The fellow looked remarkably unkempt, his yellow fur looked like that of a rat's but they were simply too large to be such a thing. Their tunic, their armlets and the earring attached to one of their big ears were all equally ragged or tarnished, but none of those were nearly as important as the many rows of cloth strips wrapped over their eyes. Whoever they were, there was a reason why he only turned their ear to Quilava when he began to chat.

 “Do you think you can get me out of here?" the young pokemon's voice was plagued with a stuttering inflection, “I already had a hard time getting out of.. um, those rocks, or whatever.”

 “Can you tell me where I am first?” Quilava's voice however, was unnconventionally boisterous for something as little as he, “I have never seen - been to a place like this. There's crystal everywhere, the sky doesn't make any sense, oh and don't forget about the army of dragon-types having a party in the next room.”

 The yellow pokemon carried themselves off until he reached another piece of the rubble where he slowly propped up his back, his legs sprawled out in front of him. “Dragon-types you said?” he wondered, “how do they all fit in there?”

 “It was a big hallway.”

 He began to head back into the hall, slowly making his way towards the tunnel with every intent to leave the fellow behind before he was stopped by the youngster's call.

 “You're going to leave me here?” he could feel those puppy eyes from behind the cloth, “You're not gonna call for help, are you?”

 “Who said you couldn't just follow me?”

 “My legs.”