Artagan

Personality

Positive Traits
Friendly/Playful - Artie has a very outgoing persona. He loves games and the act of playing, and will often interact with others as a means of entertaining himself. With the exception of his closest relationships, it is a mistake to take this joy in interaction as genuine care for others, as Artie is not one for deep emotional bonds.

Clever - Description

Kind - Description 

Neutral Traits
Trained Fighter - Description

Benevolent - Description

Unambitious - Description 

Negative Traits
Self-important - Description

Coward - Description

Impatient - Description

Distractible - Description 

Biography

TL;DR
- Born a Nickit from Theivul parents and named Arthur.
- Had a collection of small treasures, including an old, broken pocket watch
- Helped an injured Mew escape humans. Was captured by the humans due to a ruse played by the Mew
- Soul/mind was transferred into a body grown from cells of the escaped Mew, but the body took on Nickit features
- Almost got experimented on more but discovered he knew Teleport and yoinked himself right outta there and back to his home, where he retrieved the pocket watch.
- Lived a long time in despair, knowing he would never return to being a simple Nickit. He was no longer Arthur, so he saw fit to rename himself to Artagan.
- Lived in secret among his former littermates, but brought the wrath of the Lab humans down upon that community. Killed the lab humans in retribution.
- Met a lil’ Eevee/Cutiefly in need of friendship. He needed a friend too, so he stuck around, eventually growing so close they called each-other siblings.
- She gave him the nickname of Artie, and considered him to be very powerful - far more powerful than he thought himself to be, and gave him a cloak themed after Decidueye.
- She left home for adventure, Artie felt like he was adrift for a little while.
- He found strength within himself, deciding that he’d better make a name for himself.
- He trained until he evolved into the Mew/Thievul he is today, then went in search of his old pal Haribo
- Once in RH, he made it clear that he didn’t plan to leave - not unless his Lil' Sister Haribo planned to leave.

FULL BIO:

Content Warnings: Death, Unwilling Body Swap, Mild(?) Body Horror, Forest Fires/Habitat Destruction, Fire, Blood

Artagan was not born the glorious creature that he is today. In fact, all of the memories that he has from before becoming a fusion were of a small Nickit pup named Arthur.

Arthur was born to regular Theivul parents and was the smallest of his litter. He never knew his father, the male having left his mate to raise the litter alone. It was only providence and a good berry yield that kept Arthur fed and not abandoned by a desperate parent in an attempt to save milk for stronger siblings. His mother, Miranda, taught him carefully the ways of being a beast amongst other beasts. The secret ways he could travel when chased by humans or bigger animals, the places to look for berries when yields were low, even the way to tell if a corpse was fresh and guarded - or abandoned and fresh for the taking.

There really was nothing particularly special about young Arthur, nothing to suggest he’d ever be more than just a little Nickit who would eventually grow up into a Theivul. He was, perhaps, a little more kind hearted than was good for him, but that way of being had never steered him wrong. Life had different plans for the pup than those quiet dreams of growing up a normal Nickit until he evolved into Theivul. One day, while wandering around the forest in search of berries to eat, Arthur encountered a strange being. Like a Meowth, but longer and a soft pink colour. It was heavily injured, and reached out to him, imploring him to bring it water, food, or even some bandages. Of course, the dutiful pup was well raised and would never refuse the honest request of a Pokémon in need, even if he didn’t recognise their species.

He had a small store of dry or hard berries saved for a rainy day, and this stock he pilfered for the sake of a total stranger. He knew his brothers would scoff at this kindness - those lessons were ones they had never internalized, unlike Arthur and his sisters. Arthur, perhaps, had recognised the pain of being stepped upon, the difficulty of being in need, and wished not to see others in the same state.

Therefore, he came back to the injured being with not only food, but scraps of cloth from his nest and, indeed, a stolen water-gourd that he jealously guarded within his small den with other treasures such as a broken pocket watch, shiny coins, and several other food items. It being the only way to bring such provisions to an immobile Pokemon, he knew there was no alternative other than to watch the being suffer. The pink-furred thing (A Mew, although he didn’t know the name of it at the time) took his offerings with much gratitude, praising its saviour, but still asking for more. It was pursued, it explained. Injured not by accident but by design. If Arthur would just give it the chance to heal, it could get away in a flick of its long and flowing tail. It could even promise riches to him that he could not imagine, if only it survived the coming onslaught. It even tied strands of its long tail hair into Arthur’s own tail, declaring these strands as a sign of its promise.

He had no reason to lack trust in this injured pokemon, so he carried it laboriously to his den, placed it amongst his treasures, and went out to patrol to make sure they hadn’t been tracked. He needn’t have been so careful, for despite this care, the humans found him. Despite him making fast tracks back to his den to both hide and warn his visitor, he found the den abandoned. His treasures were still there, but the injured stranger was gone.

Despite his attempts to escape, the humans were skilled catchers and he was nothing but a small Nickit. Arthur was captured and caged almost before he even realized it. He did his best to escape, using all the skills his mother taught him, but nothing she had known could prepare a ‘mon for the grips of human hands and human cages. Arthur did not know, but this was the last those Nickit eyes would see of the sky.

---

It was many moons before the next notable event in Arthur’s life. Of course, the humans plucked the strands of the pink stranger’s hair from amongst his tail-fur, robbing him of the one chance at help he thought he might have. They played with those strands and began to grow a thing that was neither dead nor alive. It was not alive, for it had no soul or consciousness to fill it, but it could neither be called dead, for it breathed and had a heart-beat. Arthur was, for some reason he could not discern, placed near to the not-alive, not-dead thing as it grew in a tank just large enough for it. These scientists were playing at something they did not understand, but neither did Arthur understand it so he merely watched with growing horror as the pink thing in the tank began to resemble the pink thing he had rescued.

Although at first he had understood none of the Language of humans, time and exposure began to work at his mind, expanding it. He began to understand small things such as the shout of “back” and “food” when they wished to open his cage and bring him sustenance. He understood that the thing in the tank was supposed to be called Mew, and that it had better not turn out like what had happened with a different organization. These people were better than those criminals of Team Rocket, he learned, as his understanding expanded. These people would do better, and make a true clone, not a false imitation.

One day, there was much rejoicing as the body they had grown in the tube was a little larger than half his size. They lifted it out of the tank, declaring the body fully grown, and ready for the mind. Arthur had grown complacent in his captivity and believed he would eventually be released, and was unready for the hands as they reached into his cage and grasped at his body, pulling him bodily from the place that had become an uneasy home to him. They hooked him up to a machine and placed things against his head, painfully pressing until his body no longer felt like his own. He felt strange. His thick tail had grown long and slender, although it had not entirely lost its poof. His forelegs, once long, were shortened, his paws being distorted into hands instead of the good paws he was used to. His hind limbs were twisted into something that was accustomed to walking around on two feet instead of four. He could feel a shortening to his nose, and it was at that moment that his eyes opened and he beheld the worst change of all. His glorious ruddy red colour was all but gone, replaced by a sickly pink that reminded him horridly of the body that was neither dead nor alive.

He attempted to whirl around and saw that his momentary thought of horror was not unfounded. He saw in the grip of the humans a body, more dead than alive although it breathed and had a heartbeat - a body that was distinctly his own. Arthur felt a scream well up within himself, and with nothing more than a thought it was his arms, his hands wrapping around that body instead of the grip of a human. With another thought, he was home in his den, safe… but not himself. Himself was Arthur, the simple Nickit. What he was, he wasn’t sure, but it wasn’t Arthur. Arthur was cradled in his arms, not so big to him now as he had supposed he would be in comparison to the not-alive, not-dead Mew. Perhaps the body had grown larger to accommodate this new soul? Arthur didn’t know, and to be honest he didn’t really care.

It took a while for him to gather his wits about him to do more than idly feed and provide water to the not-living, not-dead body that was once his own. It swallowed dutifully without being told to, but otherwise it acted as it was - an empty thing. He wasn’t sure how best to deal with the body he could never return to, so eventually he chose the only logical path. He slit its throat and watched it bleed out on the floor of what had once been his home. The Mew fusion gathered up what once had been his prized possessions and stared at them, discarding the old things one by one. An old tea-pot that was dented and tarnished, a pack of playing cards he now knew to be nothing but a human game, a tin whistle… each of these was thrown atop the pile as he prepared to bury his old life for good.

The Mew fusion did not feel as though the old name, the name his mother had gifted him upon his birth, fit to his personage anymore. Arthur was a quiet, soft name, for a Pokemon who was both small and kind. The pokemon did not know if he could be kind anymore, so he discarded that name and began a search for another name. The broken watch gave him his answer. His time in the Lab had taught him more than to listen to the human languages, he’d also taken those boring days and restless nights to learn letters as well, so when he picked up the pocket watch and gazed at the inscription on the inside, he knew in his heart that this was fate, for the letters inscribed within spelled “Artagan.” Artagan it said, so Artagan he became.

And Artagan left the final remnants of his old life, taking nothing but the fur on his back and the old watch, for it was the beginning of this new life. He was not the product of a lab, but the child of this watch and this small den. Let him forget the pain. It was behind him. Artagan emerged from the den for a moment, tasting the sky for the first time in his new identity. It wasn’t so bad, to redefine oneself, he decided. He climbed back down into the den that now felt cramped and began to dig the ceiling, causing dirt to rain down upon the pile of what he used to be, what he used to love, both body and belongings.

He dug until the ceiling collapsed upon him, using Teleport to shift up above the rain of dirt and stone before it could force him onto the pile of what once was but was no longer. Artagan felt a long sigh of relief fill him at the sight of the crater, knowing he was free from that prison. There was a tug of regret at the thought - his den was no prison, his body was no prison, but he pushed it away. No use mourning what might have been. Might as well move forward into what is to be. Perhaps a small part of him thought of the Mew that had got him into this mess. A part of him growled in anger at the thing, yearning to chase after it and get revenge on what it had done to him.

His mother’s wisdom overturned that. No use. It would not change anything to chase down the beast that had already eaten your berries, best to better guard the berries that you still had. Artagan clutched the watch to his chest and willed himself to go on. To continue.

---

And continue he did. For longer than he wished to, at times. Although he swore himself free of that life, he found himself using his power to hide amongst the Nickits and Theivuls as though one of them. Transform was easy enough to use, once he learned he had it as a move. It was so strange, having moves one was unaware of. Artagan saw his littermates grow into adulthood and have litters of their own… he witnessed the seasons passing, saw his own mother age and die from an infection. He got used to living amongst the Nickits and Theivuls, but thought little of the potential danger his presence could do to his former family. It wasn’t until the humans came again, this time in greater numbers than the first time. The first time they had been against a small Mew that was already injured. This time they fought a Mew/Nickit at full strength. They would not get him, Artagan determined, Teleporting out of there and not returning to that place for a full turn of the seasons. He would only go back to check on them, he reminded himself, he was no longer a part of them.

What he saw was not families living in peace. The woods were scorched, no place for anything to live. Had they done this just to spite him, or was it an attempt to draw him out. He found bones, clearly the bones of his kind, and he knew no more for a time.

When Artagan awoke, it was to the scent of blood and smoke and the painfully familiar sight of the lab where old memories resurfaced. No, he had not been born here, he had been born in the forest, in that den with nothing but the watch on a chain he had wrapped around his tail. The blood was not his own - he did not feel any pain other than the pain in his soul. He glanced down and saw he was floating in the air, staring down at death and flame. Too much death. Too much fire. In a blink, he was above a lake he had once flown over, and in another blink he was within the crashing tides of that water, letting the tumultuous flow cleanse the filth of red blood and black smoke from his fur.

Retribution was not his to give, it was up to the gods to do so. And yet, had these humans not put him within the body of a god? This tiny psychic cat that he had been put into was powerful, more powerful than even they realized. Why shouldn’t he lay claim to that power, along with the ability to mete out retribution on those who had wronged him?

Artagan wrestled with that question for a long time, but much time passed before he was able to answer that question and come to terms with the violence he had mindlessly doled out on those who had harmed his former kin. Artagan knew he was lost for a time. Further seasons passed, cycles of them while his body wandered the world and his mind wandered his thoughts. Still young despite the years that had passed, Artagan found himself within a sunny port town, far from everything he’d known before.

He settled himself within a quiet room one afternoon for a nap, not expecting an interruption. He’d observed this place from outside. The patrons, both human and ‘mon, only came in during the night, to be entertained by the owner’s performances and then to sleep. One or two might idly enter during the day to reserve a seat or a room, but no one stayed within the building by day, save the owners. The room should, by all rights, be empty. And yet, he was awakened rudely from his nap by a tiny runt of a pokemon.

By all rights she should not be allowed to be this small. Describing the Eevee/Cutiefly hybrid as 20 cm tall was a generous measure, even compared to his 50 cm height from toe to top of head. Artagan nearly paid her no mind but she insisted on gathering his attention. And within minutes, he didn’t mind the sweet distraction. She reminded him of who he was. What he was. He was no vacuous being without a mind, he was clever and intelligent and needed to act as such. And yet, he was still a child. She reminded him of that as well. She revealed her name to be Haribo and coaxed from him the name of Artagan, and when he decided to call her ‘bo, as a short to her name, she returned the favour and would call him nothing but Artie.

They played. He taught her his skills of sneaking and skirting around adults, becoming unnoticed to their lazy gazes. She, in return, taught him how to play again. How to have fun, to mess with adults and humans and switch things in their baskets. She taught him how to enjoy cupcakes and goodies and other sweet treats, and in return he taught her what he knew of letters and writing, so that she might be able to read the recipe books her heart desired.

One day she presented to him a gift. The gift was unexpected, but he took it with gratitude. He had been complaining of wanting to hide his figure without transforming into the guise of another being, and she had satiated this desire by giving him a glorious homemade cloak, made to resemble that of the grass bird archer, Decidueye. Now he could hide himself within its folds, pretend for a moment not to be the magical Mew that science had twisted him into. He attached his watch to the interior of this cloak.

Artie began to deeply enjoy the opportunity to once again be a child, as he hadn’t been since the humans stole him from his home. He had gathered a while ago that he did not seem to age, his Mew body not allowing him to pass into obscurity as he once would have, had he remained a Nickit. Artie began to feel his old pains pass away, the friendship of this Beevee healing his hurts. He kept himself hidden from all other pokemon and humans, not trusting them with his existence as he had unwittingly trusted ‘bo. He remained wary of others, but trusted himself to this little child who re-taught him the joys of childhood.

But her little-ness did not remain forever. Like all children do, she grew up, and grew independent. While still maintaining that childlike joy and exuberance for life, she did not wish to remain trapped within her mother’s household forever. She wanted to explore. And so, not knowing of her daughter’s companion and friend, Haribo’s mother sent her off to parts unknown.

Artagan felt betrayed by this departure at first. Or rather, the idea of her departure. Long before asking her mother for permission, she had told him of her hopes to leave. Of course she wouldn’t leave without him knowing. She’d told him of her desire to spread her wings and explore the world beyond this little place, to see beyond what she had seen already. He’d given her his blessing eventually. He couldn’t ask her to stay in this place or remain his companion. He would stay hidden, perhaps find another little Pokemon to befriend and keep him from being alone. He had no need to go out, he’d already seen plenty of the outside world and it did not please him.  

---

Or maybe he was just a coward. He hid within that boarding and entertainment house for some years, waiting and wondering what he might do. His pursuers were either too far away to bother following him, or they had lost their drive to chase him after the… incident. He shivered whenever he remembered what he had done, what he’d woken up to when he came back to himself after the death of the forest and the foxes within. He needed to control himself and never do that again. But he needed to be stronger so that next time someone came to attack him, he could protect any who might be endangered by him, instead of running away.

And so he trained. Artagan found places where Pokémon didn’t mind to beat one another up for the sake of increasing their power. Underground arenas where he could disguise himself as another pokemon and fight viciously until victory was assured. He didn’t enjoy it, but when he felt the energy of evolution fill his bones, he knew it was worth it. He held off the power when he was within the arena, but a quick few battles with wild bugs and rats in a forest somewhere else was enough to trigger it again.

He felt his body fill out and grow, his limbs lengthening. There was now a fancy mustache on his nose, his mask now crossed his whole face and stuck out on either end. He examined himself and found his appearance to be pleasing. It was not the Theivul he’d once wished to grow into, but it would do. He’d grown taller as well, now a tidy 1 meter instead of the 50 cm he’d previously commanded. The cloak that had once been so large as to engulf him now fit as more of a shoulder cloak, but he didn’t mind the loss of covering. It still fit him snugly, keeping him warm and helping him feel comfortable in his skin.

All that battling had done much to foster a greater confidence within the fusion, giving him the strength to be himself, to be grown up without being despondent. It was a boost he certainly needed as he began to teleport around the world, searching for his old friend.

He found himself in many different places, searching for that vibrancy. He found evidence of her in her mother’s home, as well as on a ship far out to sea. No longer afraid of the consequences of revealing his identity, he promised the two pokemon he met in those places to carry her greetings with him as he continued to search.

He visited the forest once, just to see what had become of it. It was a pretty place, now. So many years had passed that the forest had grown back - not to what it had been before, but enough for there to be a lively community of Pokemon living in it. There were Nickits and Thievuls who had populated the area after the fire. It didn’t feel like home anymore, so he left.

He had several small adventures as he searched, often stopping to play a prank or two before leaving a place. Over time, he was eventually able to locate her, playing on a beach and guarding eggs that were not hers. She seemed to have gathered some Pokemon around her - friends of some sort? Particularly of interest was the massive Charizard/Umbreon that she seemed to almost dote upon. There was clearly some romance there, and Artie was not the sort to interfere. He was proud of her, in his own way.

He continued watching Haribo and her little organization for quite some time, only stopping when he noticed a perfect opportunity to join in what seemed to be a little party they were having. A… talent show. He liked it, so he interrupted one of the final performances, using his Mew Magic and using Trick Room to confuse everyone. The only one who realized what was happening was his clever little friend, who rushed out of the little theatre and met him outside, amongst the stars. They stared at one another for a long while, then embraced. They were together again, and Artie swore he’d never allow them to be separated again. Haribo was his first and only true friend, and he’d protect her and her friends and her future offspring, for as long as his Mew body would allow him to remain.

And thus concludes the story of how Arthur, a small inconsequential Nickit, became Artagan, a powerful and proud Mew/Thievul fusion, and joined the group known as Rocket Hideout.

Artagan, of course, brought himself before the administration of the group to formally present his request to join, and they graciously accepted him, granting the Mew fusion the privileges and responsibilities of a Team Rocket member.