The OUTSKIRT Team

The Kabutops watches as one by one the other pokemon make their excuses and leave.
Was his presence really that repulsive?
Well screw them, screw them all.
He was better then them, he was better then them all. No-one was worthy to stand in his magnificent presence!
Regale gouges a long line in the metal walls of the steam engine as outside the desert winds howl up a storm. The metal shavings gleam along the edge of his curved scythes.
Murder gleams bright in his golden eyes as he sits cross-legged on the floor and begins to hone his scythes to an even more deadly edge on the flat surface of an abandoned table of some sort.
This place was nowhere near as magnificent as the Shipwreck of his home. There were no elegant tapestries floating gracefully on the walls. There were no brothers or father to play with or Kingdra to ride and the harsh dry sands that leaked in every gap were vastly inferior to the great currents carrying delicious plankton but he would make do. He would make this place his castle and here he would raise his army.
In his minds ear he can hear the raised scythes being jerked in the air as a thousand warrior’s voices raise in tribute to their king and clawed feet stomp over the corpses of his bloodied enemies. “King Regale!” He hears them chanting. “King Regale! King Regale! King Regale!”
Then he would raise one scythe to them and a great cheer would grow from the crowd as the yellow-bloodied traitor would be thrown before him and his scythe would swing down-
He is woken from his daydream by the tiny nick he cuts in his forearm as his scythe slips.
Dispassionately he watched the tiny dribble of indigo fluid leak over his shining caramel brown shell.
He was better than those others. He was royal as his purple haemolymph clearly showed and he deserved to rule.
It was a right he had earned through tooth and claw and bloody blade and one he had not relinquished willingly.
He would become and even great warrior and here-
He gouges another line across the first until it is a jagged “x” the emblem of war.
Here he would reclaim his birthright because he would be the greatest killer that ever lived.
"You hear that!" He screams out at the empty desert. “You glubbing landlubbers can go choke on an eel!”

Again the Kabutops sits cross-legged on the floor and drops into a daydream. He could do it, he knows he can, he just has to focus. He is a warrior armed with the most powerful of Wwhite Sciences and there were no black arts that could defeat him.
He would not only live he would hunt down that yellow bloodied piece of blubber that had taken away his little cuddlefish and use Ahab’s Rifle to send him down to the murky depths, that moping dick.
Then he would get his power back.
Then he could be strong for her and protect her and she would see that they were meant to be together all along. It can’t have all been a lie, it just can’t have.
She had loved him, he knew she loved him. She hadn’t stopped loving him until he showed up but if he went away then he could get her to love him again because they were destined to be together.
Something so little couldn’t possibly get in the way of true love.
She couldn’t possibly have looked at him that way…
They were in love.
Like bad seafood the memory of the way she had looked at him rises in his stomach.
He chokes it back even as tears of saltwater run down his face.
He…he had to do it.
He just had to…
Regale throws himself at the dusty floor, his golden crown falling off and rolling across the ground and beats the floor with his scythes like a child throwing a tantrum.
Air breathing, something he already disliked, became harder as he whimpered and tried not to flounder.
She couldn’t love him anymore.
He had sent her belly up.
It should have worked.
That yellow bastard should have just died and left her to him. Instead he made her hate him and what else was there to do then?
Regale curls up into a quivering ball of cartilage on the floor and cries to himself.

The Kabutops runs the tip of his scythe along the rim of the golden crown as he thinks and the tears start to fade from his eyes.
He had been tired of trying to get back on her hook. Was nothing he did anymore good enough for her?! He might be her killer but she’d never be his queen.
Ah what a fool he had been, thinking he could be a lover or a fighter than he was not.
He cared too much and that was what ensnared him, any fool could weave a spider web or fishnet of words and drag him under and he would let them like a good little fish. Because the promise of being cared for as strongly as he cared about someone else was like a Lanturn’s lure to him. The end result was pretty much the same two.
“When have angel’s ever helped me yet?” He murmurs softly to himself as he lays his angular head against the dirt and slowly rolls the crown back and forth with the tip of a scythe. “Because magic isn’t real and hope is lost because when they find me I’m batter fried”
The metallic gold eyes slowly close as one last solitary salt tear traces its way down Regale’s gaunt cheeks.
“I used to wish the death of every living thing…” That was the way it had been before back since he was just a skinny Kabuto that could fight properly and his only desire in life had been to kill all surface dwellers. How happy his simple dreams of genocide had been back then, back before the big complicated thing called love came into his life.
She was so beautiful inside and out and of proper royal blood too.
She was the one that cared for the tiny injured Horsea and flightless Wingull he normally called food and he desperately tried to be kind to please her.
The memory that had bloomed in his mind, of him and her playing among the seaweed with the bubbles of their laughter rising to surface he dispels with a blink of his eyes.
Had that happiness been a lie too or had she always thought of him as nothing more than a friend as she cast around for a bigger catch.
Plenty of other fish in the sea, why settle for the small fry?
That was before she had hated him, reviled him and he had turned in his desperation to his other friends only to find out that those that didn’t ignore him hated him too.
“I don’t mean to be hurtful but if yellows the purple well then bleedings the new breathing.” He decides, wishing he had the courage to say something to her before Ahab’s Rifle had torn a violent hole into her pretty violet face.
He waits curled up in his exile, still hoping beyond hope that someone would wander along and be friends with him.
That was what he ran on, after all, pointless hope.

The endless tide of the flowing sands scoured clean the orange red scales, removing the dead layers of yet to be shed skin and giving the softer layers underneath an unwanted sanding.
The bright amber eyes closed tight under the dusty dry onslaught that was so different from the softer ashes of his mountain home as the Charmeleon wises for the retractable eye covering membranes of the Sandile. Bright ivory points of thick slashing claws sink heavily in the thick piles of soft umber colored sands as the long trudge through the merciless desert continues.
Behind the winding path of the wandering fire lizard the sunken footprints are erased by the steady pressure of the sandstorm.
The flecks of dirt that pass through the blazing bright flame of the long twisting tail briefly become bright orange embers, the dying sparks of a firework, before they are extinguished by landing back in the arms of the desert.

Two nimble three clawed hands hold on to the single protruding blunt horn, one cool fur the other cool metal.
The light sky blue body adjusts itself by minute amounts, accustomed to the gait of the fire type striding beneath it.
The deep blue eyes, the blue of the deepest pools of water, see nothing but the smoky afterimages of the memory of light.
It feels the harsh gritty sand driving tirelessly against its sky colored fur though and smells the acrid harshness of the bitter desert air, as warm as the scales it sat on.
Riding the shoulders of the Charmeleon in the position that benefited them both the warmth of the flames that boiled inside the fire type warmed its cold body nearly to the core.
The hardened secretions of the fan-like shells it wore on the deeper fur of its legs were carefully positioned over the knee so that the hard sharp edges did not cause discomfort to its companion, the flat black tail held slightly erect so it did not hang against the Charmeleon's back.
Although mostly blind it can feel the suns bright heat diminish and the bright light fade as they stepped out of the desert.
The soft sound of the footsteps in sand becomes the harsher sound of footsteps on metal.
Where are we? The Dewott asks, using only the twitching of his arms and fingers to communicate the sentence.
Head tilted up to watch the actions the Charmeleon turns to survey the twin gashes in the metal.
Outskirt Stand I think...But there's something odd here." The Charmeleon replies, carefully surveying the shadows.

Instantly the sound of voices filters down to where the Kabutops is curled up on the hard gritty floor.
His golden eyes flicker open as soon as he hears the metallic edged echo of the voice coming in from the entrance to the desert.
Intruders is his first thought but the second desperate thought beneath it is...allies.
He needed allies, especially if he was going to reclaim his kingdom. A sharp shard of betrayal lodges itself beneath the metallic plates of his chest and the bitterness within him makes him revise that thought too.
What he needed was friends but what he wanted was subordinates.
Raising himself up slowly and wiping the telltale tear from his hard caramel shell with the silvery back on one of his scythe-like hands Regale stands.
The worn circlet of yellow stone he carefully retrieves from the floor and feels guilty for neglecting his crown so.
He was highblood, born and bred to rule over all with an iron blade. He must never forget that.
The Kabutop's frail psyche latches on to the delusion to mask its own self loathing and as the Water/Rock type strides down the tunnel with all the predatory grace of his ancient ancestors he completely forgets there had been others here when he had arrived.
“W-Water you doing here?!” Regale asks haughtily of the two in front of him trailing sand inside his hideout.

Bright orange eyes blink in surprise at the tall gaunt figure striding towards the two.
Leaning back on his scaly haunches and making a passible attempt to steam clean some of the lodged chunks of dirt from his tail Hiroshi had been expecting some form of company but this golden eyed thing was not it.
"Getting out of the sand, what does it look like?" The Fire Type says in a way that only includes a touch of the arrogance normally inherent in such a sentence.
The rock/water type seemed to have some trouble with pronunciation, stuttering over the "W" sound and pronouncing "What are" as "Water". Normally the teenage fire lizard would have had a good chuckle over that but something about the foot long silver blades this pokemon had as arms told him that would be a bad idea.
He flexes his feet, feeling the ache deep in his bones from the long desert trek. Orre was such a dull region, so harsh and dry and boring.
It looked like there was a chance things could get properly interesting thought and that was what Hiroshi liked to hear. Time and time he had been berated for it but he liked the battles. Whenever he won he felt himself getting stronger, getting better.
Barely perceptibly the blazing flame on his tail swells to match the Charmeleon's growing curiousity.
The golden stone circlet of a King's Rock rested rather unstably on the Kabutop's head but, despite how much of his childhood had been spent around human settlements, all that the hat of authority brings to mind is the few pictures he had been in children's books which leads to him forming the impression that it had something to do with a Rapidash with curtains around it and kissing Politoed's to turn them into humans. Thankfully he decides not to mention any of this to the Kabutops.
"What did that wall do to you?" He asks, turning his head to indicate the "X" of deep gashes in the metal.

Hideki remains as usual silent, getting his bearings from the eerie silvery picture made of smells and sounds that was his sight.
The feather light grains of sand have embedded themselves deep in the joints of his prosthetic arm and make an irritating grinding sound when he tries to move the limb.
Ah, what a pitifully weak god it was that stood before them with the salt scent of tears still around it. For all the sheen it had put on its illusion form there was none of the genuine air of command about it; the god did not know enough to recreate it.
The Dewott would humor it, as it did all the Lesser Gods, but only until it either became interesting or else came to be devoured by the more powerful God at his side that tried to compensate for lack of power by sheer persistence. The more Lesser Gods 'Hiroshi" devoured the sooner he could ascend in the eyes of Hideki to a Greater God.
The sea otter like Pokémon lithely leaps down off the Charmeleon's shoulders, taking the fan-like shells of his Scalchops into his dark three fingered hands.
Such a little thing...We should introduce ourselves. The Dewott signs to his companion.
Hiroshi acknowledges the sign with a brief nod of his head.
"I am the Salamder, Komodo Hiroshi and that is the Silent One, Getsu Hideki." The Charmeleon says, using their given titles as well as full names in the face of the unmistakable air of perceived superiority radiating from the skinny thing in front of him.

Regale's scythed arms twitch involuntarily with jumped up battle instincts. Two outcasts wandering in on his shameful exile and showing him no respect... Had they seen his outpouring of emotion earlier; would he have to keelhaul them?!
"It is the call to wwar." The Kabutops tells the Flame Pokemon coolly, acting as in charge as he can manage. "The great wwar-" He could never pronounce his "W"'s especially if he was feeling stressed. " Wwhere I am to be King."
Saying so helped raise the Kabutop's spirits. He had called himself the King and saying it helped him feel it, even in the face of this filthy land dweller and its traitorous amphibious friend. For all they knew he was every inch the rightful heir he tried to act.
The gouges in the steel were a spur of the moment thing, an act driven by the depth of his emotions and little more but now before him they became a great sign no, better, a banner to unify his forces under.
The chanting voices of his daydreaming echo once again in the back of his mind.
King Regale! King Regale!
The Kabutops stands tall, the shafts of golden light that penetrate through the spaces in the solid steel locomotive shining impressively across the steely armour of his belly plates, the crescent shaped scar proudly gashed through one eye a sign of his heroics and bravery in battle.
"Hiroshi and Hideki huh? I am Regale, King Regale" He says, matching the Charmeleon's casual disrespect with a casual disrespect of his own and emphatically pronounces his name Regalle. "I'm afraid if you wwant to stay here you'll have to submit to my schooling."
The pun is forced and anyone not looking for it would pass straight over it but it makes him feel better.

"Oh I don't think-" The Charmeleon starts to say before a careful nudge in the ribs from Hideki's metal elbow stops him and the blue furred Water Type hurriedly signs a message to him.
There is food here and shelter. We should take advantage of it while we can and letting a Lesser God pretend it has some power is no large price to pay.
"-We could stay for long." The Charmeleon finishes lamely and sits.
The bright flame at the end of his tail dies down again. A prolonged stay with a 'King' Kabutops, whatever that meant, wasn't his idea of a good time but he had spent far too long in the desert for his comfort (he had sand in places he didn't even know he had) and the idea of a good meal and a bit of a rest was welcome. If he ever got bored he could wander around a bit to find an undead to fight instead of taking it out on their pompous host.
Hiroshi stretches out, blinking a few times as his eyes adjust to the relative gloom inside the restaurant. Everything seems fairly standard except for the slightly eerie air you got from a place that used to be a popular spot that now found itself abandoned.
"So then "King" tell us about your war." The Charmeleon leans back, his tail a bright star in the shadows.

Hideki carefully walks a few paces away from the talking two. There was too much lip movement amongst the gods, even between the gods and their illusions as if their pitiful attempts would ever persuade him it was safe to do so.
The Sandstorm has hammered him.
The Dewott's sky blue fur was normally the picture of neatness. It grew as such that in water it would trap bubbles of air and allow him to be carried across the waves as if by the invisible hands of the Gods of the Sea (that is what the Kabutops is; One of the minor sea gods) but the desert gods had hammered him with small amounts of pain and now as many clinging gritty grains had fallen in his fur as if he had been picked bodily up and rubbed into a sand dune.
Irritably he gets the hard but fine edge of the Scalchop and runs it over his fur.
The sensation of the sand being drawn out is as pleasant as its presence was unpleasant.
For one who had no idea what purpose, if any, personal hygiene played he enjoyed keeping clean simply for the tactile sensations.
After ridding the fur of his belly of the clinging sand he did the same with each arm in turn and, with great care, his face until the two pointed tuft of fur that stuck up from the back of his head was once again perfect.
Then he runs the Scalchop over the large flat surface of his black tail to comb the sand out of that as well, a chore seeing as he can't really see it.
Next he carefully cleans his legs and the darker blue thick tufted fur of his thighs before inspecting the Scalchop's themselves and running the pointed metal claws of his metallic hand along them to check their edge has not been dulled before finally turning to the unpleasant buisiness of maintenance of the lump of plastic and metal sewn into his skin.
With a sickeningly organic sound he disconnects the limb from his arm socket, instantly it falls limb and unresponsive. With the delicate claws of his other hand he runs them along the hulking mechanisms the best he could, digging the specks of grit out of any place he can reach. Entirely relaxed sand falls from the loose joints of its own accord too until, finally satisfied he had done the best he could, Hideki relocates the limb the best he could and returns to the Charmeleon's side.

Tell them about his war?
Inside the Kabutops's heart soars. The imagined host of his deepest fantasies had been all seadwellers of strong and noble blood, a loyal horde with each one devoted body and mind to the glory of his all encompassing empire and all leaping at a chance to accompany their glorious ruler in a walk around the beach or to stay out and watch the stars...and there would never be any land dweller traitor scum there ever!
King Regale...
"My wwar is against the unjust that pollute my birthright." He says with an absolute depth of certainty. "Those wwho have spoiled my seas wwill pay."
The two names he turns over in his head, smoothing out his thoughts about them like the tide smooths driftwood.
They were warriors names.
Part of his oh so eager heart, the hope beyond hope inside him, wrapped itself eel-like around the thought that they could come to be friends. The cool childish anger inside him thought they could become allies.
They did not know how he had come to be thrown from the throne that was his birthright.
"'Salamander' Hiroshi, 'Silent One' Hideki." He says slowly. "How does one come to acquire such titles?"
Regale begins to relax...

"Oh a lot of hard work mainly." The Fire Type replies with a false sort of cheer. The look in the Kabutops's metallic golden eyes is disturbingly...hungry.
Subtly he moves to put the blaze at the end of his long tail in a better position for attack.
Strangely the fossil pokemon seems harmless enough, even if he is a huge douche. If he really meant them harm he would have acted on it already or at least acted to stop Hideki who was cheerfully scoping the place out.
"We have fought many, many battles..." The Flame pokemon says with a genuine note of bitter regret in his words. No matter how hard he fought to get stronger it hadn't been enough to protect Sazae. He would have to get even stronger.
In his mind's eye was the silhouette of a Charizard armored in volcanic rock perched on the smoking crater of a mountain.
The silent guardian that couldn't save anyone in the end...
He would be better.

Hideki rests back on his hindquarters and meticulously grooms his long white whiskers by running his black paws over them. A normal Dewott would have moistened his paws before hand with a lick of his tongue but Hideki would never risk his soul for something so superfluous.
The close pressure of the cold metal walls is something inherently soothing to the Water Type; it reminded him of the World.
I'm hungry, ask the the crowned thing for food. The Dewott signs bluntly to Hiroshi.
Although he cannot see it the Dewott knows by now the Kabutops must be getting curious about the way he communicates through hand motions rather than words.
And explain my method of communications.
Again the Water Type waits for a sign of response from the patch of dry warmth he recognized as Hiroshi before nudging him again in the ribs with his non metallic elbow.
I want Apicot... Hideki tells him, the customary frown of determination that slashed its way across any Dewott's face becoming one of a faint hint of disapproval.

Regale smirks happily, keeping his indecent display of jubilation inside.
Just what any enterprising, up-and-coming king needed to rid his seas of the taint the land dwellers had spread, powerful warriors to fight at his side or, more accurately, to defend him from anyone that was about to try and hurt him.
With warriors here before him his shame (and the fact that they were Land Dwellers) was promptly forgotten in a heady swirl of his dreams of power.
The gaunt figure of the Kabutops predatory stalks his way through the deserted Outskirt Stand and sits himself at the largest table, knocking a debris of half finished meals and dirty cups to the floor as he leans back, puts up his legs and crosses them in front of him.
Yeah, he was so cool.
Crossing his scythes in a cool guy's manner he looks over the silvery tops of the shining clean blades at the pair that had wandered straight into his clutches.
"If by warriors you mean anything like Mercenaries I have a proposition for you..."
This would be the start of his own glorious rise to power.

Arceus Above what a douche this guy was.
Hiroshi would be tempted to completely ignore the haughty water/rock type and just go get Hideki's damn berry himself except that he doesn't feel up to going up against something with a double resistance to most of his moves and to be honest he wasn't entirely sure Hideki would aid him if he attacked.
"We're-" He starts to protest before Hideki nudges him yet again.
Save your pride for later, in this delusion the two are one and the same. Besides I'm still hungry.
"We're...mercenaries yes." Hiroshi reluctantly concedes.
It is a blow to his pride but Hideki was probably right. If this guy wanted mercenaries it was probably safest to be mercenaries.
Besides mercenaries got paid and even though he had no affinity for money apart from its interesting taste it was a considerable bonus to be paid for the fighting he was going to do anyway.

The Charmeleon claps his large clawed hands together.
"If this proposition involve employment we'll be happy to join you King Regale" He says with a hint of sarcasm.
"But if we're going to be your fighting force we should be properly introduced. I am Hiroshi, I specialize in melee combat and Fire Style battle techniques. This is Hideki, he's a blind mute, very unfortunate but thankfully I can translate for you. Just say the word and we'll be happy to slaughter your enemies, within reason of course. Now there's just the matter of our fee..."
Hideki climbs back onto the Charmeleon's back and reclines lazily against the crimson streaked orange scales. The warmth that radiated from the Fire Type is something that still fascinated him.
Muscles bunch as the Charmeleon subtly tries to shake him off and Hideki merely rolls over so his black furred paws are positioned beside the Fire Types eyes.
Get me a Berry Juice too. He signs.
"Both me and my companion are famished, perhaps you could be so good as to find us some nourishment. I want a Lava Cookie, an Apicot Berry and two Berry Juices...so we can toast to your health."

Cheerfully and not minding that he is being manipulated the Water/Rock type scours the place top to bottom in search of the requested food.
He had mercenaries!
He was a mighty, mighty ruler and he had mercenaries!
Back and forth he scurried through the abandoned locomotive.
This far out the place had its own generator still cheerfully humming away to power all the devices needed to keep the food fresh and ready to go.
Carefully sniffing at each strange packet and discarding those from which the foul odors of spoil emanated from it takes the regal Kabutops quite some time to find the requested items.
The Berry Juice was easy, the cocktail being a treat commonly enjoyed by both humans and pokemon. The counter was graced by a large jar of the Lava Cookies as well.
While dust had fogged the glass the cookies inside were alright if a bit stale.
What took the most time was finding the Apicot berry.
The rare berry was kept way at the back of the restaurant in a freezer that Regale had at first mistaken for a sea chest.
"A toast then, to the glorious aquatic dawn!" He announces, raising his own berry juice.

"A toast then!" The Charmeleon says cheerfully, scooping up the orange colored cookie and one of the Berry Juices.
He takes a bite of the Lava Cookie, the crunchy cracker reminding him of his own lava filled home.
After the long and exhausting trek through the desert the crisp treat is exactly what he needs and Hiroshi avidly consumes it with obvious relish before taking a long swig of the juice made of crushed berries and swallowing his now damp mouthful.
He takes another bite before raising his half shell 'glass' filled with the pinkish red juice.
"Long live the King." The Flame pokemon says, spraying bright orange crumbs across the counter.

The Dewott watches Hiroshi eat with visible disgust. It is obvious he considers such behavior unseemly.
Instead he picks up the still cold to the touch Apicot berry from the counter and nods to the Kabutops that bought it to him. It is certainly one of the less common forms of delusion 'food' and he wasn't sure this Lesser God had enough experience to create one.
Musing that maybe it was simply a Greater God that had been defeated and it had most of its power stripped away the Dewott raises the berry to his lips and shoves it straight inside as rapidly as he can.
Cheeks painfully bulging he chews and swallows before repeating the process with the Berry Juice. It takes him no longer than a second to completely drain the container.
Long live the king. He also signs, raising his now empty shell.

Not minding the strangeness of his new employees the Kabutops pours the sweet yet healthy berry drink down his own throat, pleased the pleasant tang has helped wash away the dry acrid taste of sand that had laminated his mouth from his own journey through the desert.
Reclining back in his dusty chair and once again crossing his feet on the tabletops he smiles at the Dewott's strange habit of shoving food down as fast as it would go.
From the glass jar he takes a Lava Cookie of his own and crunched it down with the hard fused plate of his jaws.
"Yes, long live the King." He says with a deep satisfaction as he adjusts the circlet of stone perched on his head.
His scythes gleam faintly.

The Charmeleon wipes a strand of the pinkish red berry juice from the corner of his mouth and slumps back into a chair with a contented sigh, patting the cream coloured scales of his belly.
The chair is conveniently one with a break between the body and the seat with the upper portion through which he can stick his tail.
As he digests his tail sways back and forth, its fires banked.
In his stomach the meal he has just eaten is being broken down for energy, anything flammable being distilled to an oily fuel housed in the glands in his throat, used only when he decides to breath fire.
The Flame Pokemon belches out a small cloud of black smoke in his appreciation and with a sly smile decides to have a bit of fun with the Kabutops.
"Now then my Liege, please don't think I'm baiting you but right now we're just a small fish in a big pond so if we 'wwant to make wwaves' we'll have to start by cleaning out the bottom feeders."

The Dewott swallows the last bits of juice and berry, feeling them fill up the aching void of hunger in his stomach. He had been hungry ever since the tiring trek through the desert sands had begun but he hadn't wanted to tell Hiroshi. There was a lot of things he didn't tell Hiroshi.
For now he was content to observe and wait and quite possibly try to murder his new employer when the Kabutops slept. He does however find Hiroshi's teasing most unwise and nudges the Charmeleon in the ribs to tell him so.
Idiot. Hidkei signs.

Almost instantly the incredible disgust he felt at seeing the Charmeleon eat fades at the faintly teasing word play. It was a habit he had picked up from his love, a little word game to calm him down and get him over the embarrassment of his little stutter. In times of stress making aquatic related puns helped calm him down and make him feel more intelligent.
Not only that but this new mercenary was suggesting his favorite activity; killing off the land dweller scum.
Regale feels a flutter of emotion sprout in his heart.
"Of course..." He says softly.

The fire type smiles, showing the contrast of his bright white fangs against the dark flaring orange of his scaled skin. There had been so much more of the majesty of command in his father than this skinny Kabutops. It would not surprise him at all if the rock/water type was just another poor deluded soul clinging to a false sense of entitlement to convince himself he really was royalty.
More then pity 'King Regale' sparked inside him contempt but playing along with his little games took no real effort and made the Kabutops so happy it was so much simpler to play along than to bother with a fight. With any luck they could fall into a happy routine of training battles against the undead and return to this place to eat and rest in celebration of their 'glorious victory'
"In that case your majesty I hate to sound shellfish but I think I did see a threat to our sandcastle here and these types can get awfully crabby so Hideki and I will be happy to go and show it who rules the beach around here."

Moodily the Dewott listens to the two exchange idiotic fish puns. He knows of the creature Hiroshi is referring to, weakened by the sandstorm and the long trek here they were too weary to fight it at the time but with the rest they had taken and the comforting weight of food in his belly they should be able to re-kill it.
Good.
Hideki didn't like this God very much and killing something would cheer him up.
To battle. He signs to Hiroshi, closely examining one of his scalchops. ad it really been so long since they had last been bathed in blood?
He wanted that deep feeling of satisfaction that accompanied the rending of other's flesh.

The Kabutops royal unfolds with all the grace in motion of a deck chair, his scythes gleaming dully.
"And I shall accompany you." He says proudly, straightening his crown of his head. "After all I am the king here and I should be there to lead my forces into battle." He says these words proudly as if he did have forces beyond a messy Charmeleon and a crippled Dewott.
For land dwellers they weren't half bad, they were hanging on his every word waiting for his command to leap into the fray.
Stalking across the sands that have spilt into the resturaunt he grins and wraps one skinny arms around Hiroshi's shoulder.
"You knoww you've really got a hook on this seadweller talk. I might even have to put you on the 'do not kill' list."
"[color=#91219E]

"What? No-" Hiroshi begins to protest before he is silenced by the genuine enthusiasm in the Kabutops's tone. There is no way this 'King Regale' is going to take no for an answer.
The Charmeleon sighs, his hot breath wafting from his jaws in waves like hot air leaking from a broken heater.
"Your majesty, I would hate to see you injured in a difficult battle." The Flame Pokemon says lamely, shuffling his clawed feet as his tail waves slowly from side to side.
His assessment is honest, the swiftest way to gain strength was to challenge the strongest opponents. While he didn't mind plunging into a fight against dangerous opponents but endangering the childishly naive 'king' is not something he plans to do to a pokemon that had hired them and fed them. In fact he believed it was best for the Kabutops to just stay here and play at toy soldiers while they went out and did the real fighting.
The crimson orange scaled pokemon shuffles closer to the blue furred one, seeking confirmation of his opinions as well as the Dewott's approval.

Hideki can feel Hiroshi move closer towards him as the Fire Type's warm scales brush against his thick insulating fur. The Dewott rests his non-metallic black furred paw against the Charmeleon's scaled shoulder and gives a faint nod.
The other paw of his artificial replacement hand lays in the darker blue fur of his hindquarters close to the hardened enamel secretion of his Scalchop blade, ready to draw it if needed.
If the Lesser God wants to fight he will allow it out of mere curiosity of the Lesser Gods powers.
If he watches it doesn't matter. The Water Type signs. Let's go already.
Without waiting for Hiroshi to speak a reply Hideki turns and steps back into the driving sands, feeling the warmth of Hiroshi following him behind.
"We may need to discuss some strategy here..." The crimson orange scaled pokemon quietly tells the Kabutops as they once again resume their desert journey.

Strutting proudly at getting his own way King Regale steps back into the dry desert heat and blinks his metallic golden eyes before him. A bright golden sun is set in the sky like the largest piece of gold he had ever seen, it is slowly slipping back through the light blue sky to bring with its retreat the harsh chill of the cold desert nights. For now it bled clear yellowy light across the shifting sands. It wasn't even worth comparing to the splendor of an underwater sunset back home...
With less violence than before his shell is struck by the myriad of tiny grains. His crown of jagged irregular rock still lays proudly perched on his strangely triangular head.
"To the glorious extermination of land dweller scum." He proposes with a grin as he follows behind his mighty mercenary forces, his flat clawed feet keeping a firm grip in the sand dunes.
Glorious victory, he feels, is surely ahead and with it he will be a real king again.
In the dusty haze of flying sand he sees a small shadow of another pokemon ahead.

Hiroshi too notices the patch of shadow in the dark ahead and his dark orange skin ripples as the muscles underneath move into position as he tenses himself in an aggressive crouch.
His jaw sets in an open-mouthed form of snarl that shows the sharp points of each of his fangs and his claws sink into the sand to try and find a grip.
Hunched over in preparation for his strike the only thing that moves is his flame tipped tail as it sways from side to side in a clear warning that says anything that gets too close will get a face full of fire. The flame itself has turned from a dark orange tipped flare to a brighter yellow as the Charmeleon gets fired up for the fight ahead.
The Charmeleon's bright orange eyes fix on the shadow, their slit pupils hair fine lines of tension as he points his head towards the shadow.
With a deep aggressive growl bubbling in his throat he leaps towards the pokemon hiding in the haze of shifting sands.

Although he cannot see the blurred outline of a pokemon in the shifting sands the Dewott can hear Hiroshi stop walking and start to growl.
Their target was just ahead of them.
Moving lithely across the sands the Water Type swiftly grabs both shell blades in paw.
The ever shifting sands once again mat his light blue fur and fill his small black ears with a mournful hissing but the blind Discipline pokemon doesn't care.
His paws sinking deep into the sand and his black tail raising a cloud of dust as it thumps the ground Hideki starts to perform a strange kind of hybrid of fighting form and elegant dance. The razor sharp blades of shell he moves smoothly like they were delicate paper fans as the Dewott twists his bodies into ever more complicated motions. With every practice strike he executes correctly Hideki's focus grows tighter and tighter and his potential for harm steadily rises.

Light gleaming off his hard brown shell King Regale imperiously raises one scythe towards the patch of darkness. Through the sandstorm he can't tell exactly what it is but if his mercenaries think so it is surely worthy of destruction.
In his opinion the setting sun behind him highlights his commanding form.
"Forwwards my wwarriors!" He commands with a hint of childish excitement undermining what he thought was a suitable tone for giving orders as he points out his target.
He can hear the faint hum of insectile wings as whatever the thing was picks up the sound of the Kabutops's voice and starts to crawl towards the potential prey.
Not realizing he has inadvertently made himself a target the Water/Rock type takes a few steps back to the top of the dune and begins to give orders like a pokemon trainer.
"Hiroshi use Fire Fang, Hideki use Aerial Ace." He says with more than a hint of arrogance, pleased he could remember what moves his mercenaries actually could use.

Hiroshi clicks his sharp white fangs together and, with the tiny spark that results, then breathes a hot, wavering and above all highly flammable gas his stomach has distilled from the food he has eaten. The gas ignites into a hot ball of flame that flickers from around his teeth. Like a miniature dragon he breathes out and small tongues of flame flicker from his jaws and his claws dig deeper into the sands. With a brief warning nudge to Hideki he starts to swing his tail more violently, the flame at the end getting hotter and hotter in preparation.
The shape of the shadow becomes less hazy and more distinct as the sound of many small legs follows the buzzing of vibrating wings.
Seeing his target the Charmeleon charges forwards, his head tilted low to the ground as his clawed arms held at angles from his side in a way a human might have identified as a 'bird run'
opening his mouth wide with a fearsome battle cry the Fire Type faces the red-eyed undead sedately crawling through the sandstorm and fastens its fiery jaws around one twitching wing.

Hideki ceases his Swords Dance. The flattened edge of the Scalchop smacks into his palm from a mid-air twirl. In some corner of his mind he considers using another one of his battle techniques out of simple disdain for the Lesser God's sense of self importance but Hiroshi is already mounting his attack and the Dewott would not leave him alone in the fight.
Adopting much the same stance the Dewott charges forwards, scalchop in paw.
His blind blue eyes see nothing but the stink of rotting flesh draws his towards his target Illusion like a compass needle.
He pushes off the dry sands as he twirls the bladed scalchop around in a brutally efficient arc.
The blade of shell down from above up the dry corpse smell then swiftly slashes back down in the swift and deadly blow nicknamed the 'Swallow Return'
Dark corrupted blood flows over the edge of the shell as the desert air is rent by a horrible screeching.

The Water/Rock type instinctively recoils back at the sight of what they were fighting.
This horrible mutilated land dweller thing churns his stomach with a deep nausea as his mercenaries fight the thing blade and tooth.
If he had been a bit more educated in manners beyond his watery domain the Kabutops would have recognized the shape of a Vibrava under the deep purple discoloration and torn skin. Sand clogged blood flowed from tears in its purple blotched body.
One of its diamond shaped wings is trapped between the Charmeleon's flaming jaws and a deep cut runs across its body from the Scalchop slash.
Protesting loudly with ear-splitting screeches the Vibration Pokemon struggles to break free, tearing off part of its wing in the process.
"Get it, kill it! King Regale shrieks loudly, waving his scythe arms. "Attack it again!"