Tormund :So Tobias, where are you from? You do not look northerner.
Tobias :ꀤ'm not from this place and frankly, ꀤ'm not sure where i am.
Tormund: "Aye, figured that. Most folk here don't travel with walking mountains ." Tobias, you are in the true north, beyond the Great Wall. What is the name of those magical creatures?
Tobias :They are called Pokemon.
Tormund : What a weird name for magical beast's.
Tormund: "HOLD! What in the frozen hells is that?"
Tobias: "it's a Growlithe. He's with me."
Tormund: [in awe] "That's no hound I've ever seen... Look at the fur-orange like fire, stripes. But first of all, these corpses have to be burned. Those white ghosts....
Tobias: i asked Regirock to gather all the corpses in one place. "Growlithe, Ember!"
The little fire pup barks and releases a burst of flame that dances across a pile of sticks-igniting them instantly with a satisfying whoosh.
Tormund: [eyes wide] "By the flaming beard of Rattata's grandpa-DID THAT PUP JUST SPIT FIRE?!"
He drops the hunk of frozen meat he was holding and runs over, crouching eye-to-eye with Growlithe.
Tormund: "You mean this fuzzy beast is packin' dragon breath in its belly? Hells, I thought he was just for cuddlin'! That's a fire pup! A proper northern lad..
For some time, both of us stood without saying anything. Suddenly, Tormund laughed and said, 'You can come to my village.'
Let me tell you, i am not boasting, but i am the best warrior in my village.
Tormund and i spent some time getting to the village, and now the sun is setting.
Village.....
smoke curled endlessly from the longhouse chimneys, heavy with the scent of pine pitch, roasted meat, and damp fur.
The village wasn't much to look at-just a scatter of hide tents, timber lodges, and bone-fenced pens-but it was alive with noise. Children wrestled in the slush, dogs barked, warriors sharpened axes and told stories.
villagers reaction to Pokemon's.....
Old Wildling #1: [pointing at Regirock] "It's a stone demon! A mountain cursed by the gods!"
Old Wildling #2: "No, it's a golem! The old tales speak of rock spirits that wake before the end times!"
Regirock: [stomps once, sending a tremor through the camp]
Whole village: PANIC, running in circles, yelling, praying to the old gods.
Meanwhile, Growlithe trots past a group of children, tail wagging, nose sniffing at a hunk of meat.
Wildling Kid: "Is it... a baby sabertooth?"
Growlithe: [lets out a small Ember to roast the meat]
Wildling Mother: "Witchfire! It cooks its own food!"
Tormund: [laughing heartily] "I like him! He's got taste and flame.Bring food! For my friend Tobias and Meat for hound! Rocks for the golem-I don't know what he eats but we've got plenty-and ale for our new guest!"