Hello Charlie! My flock of Wooloo and Dubwool is getting a bit hard for my dad's old Herdier to manage these days, so I'm in the market for a new herding companion. Most of my colleagues have suggested the typical canine Pokemon, but I'm personally not a fan of most of those options. Given your experience with eevee and its evolutions, do you think something like an Umbreon or an Espeon would work? If not one of them, have you seen any other unconventional working farm Pokemon?
there's a reason why there's a small group of pokemon you typically see doing herding jobs. herding is a specialized behavior that really requires a certain kind of pokemon to do it. herding pokemon need to be agile, intelligent, and focused, with a natural drive to push the herd forward. that just doesn't fit any eeveelution! the closest you'd get is jolteon, and it's generally too sensitive and hard to train to make trying worthwhile. even if you don't particularly enjoy them, there's a reason why the lillipup, growlithe, and yamper lines are the most common herding pokemon. it's better off for your flock to invest in a pokemon that can more easily be taught to safely guide them than to try and teach a pokemon that isn't appropriate for the job.
i've seen a couple of other pokemon used for herd management. furret are common at torchic farms, because they're speedy and nimble and very good at chasing off nickit and rattata; corvisquire are often used to round up skiploom and eldegoss, because they're intelligent and can be taught to create breezes to push these floaty grass types around. still, that doesn't make them good choices for wooloo. i'd really recommend sticking with one of the traditional choices!
Like with my canine one, this is just an idea I wanted to get down. No big plot, just loved the idea of using horse pokemon as working animals (I'm sorry if I used any terminology wrong! I rode when I was younger, not competitively, but leisurely). I just love horses in general.
Corbeau seemed the most logical to involve, simply because he's part of Lumiose's security, and owns many security businesses XD
Tagging @pedestrianwolf (I hope you enjoy this!)
The cold Lumiose air bit pleasantly at your cheeks as you settled deeper into the saddle, fingers tightening around Cool’s reins. Dawn hadn’t fully broken yet, just a wash of pale lavender stretching over the rooftops, but every equine on patrol duty was already crackling with energy. Chilly mornings did this. Made even the steadiest mounts coil like springs.
Cool, unfortunately, was not the steadiest mount. And that was true with most Kantonian rapidash.
You felt her before she showed it: her ribcage expanding under you, her steps lifting just a little too high, and that electric tension running from her poll straight through her hindquarters. A warning if ever there was one.
“Easy, girl,” you murmured, sitting deeper, asking for bend, for softness.
Cool had other ideas. She snorted, loud, offended, and dramatic, and bulged against the bit, dragging you a half-step sideways as she chose her own line down the quiet Lumiose street.
Behind you, Diesel’s hooves clopped in a steady rhythm. Your colleague chuckled nervously. “She’s feelin’ it today, huh?”
“She’s trying to kill me,” you shot back, though affection thickened the words. You tried to bring Cool back under you, inside leg firm, seat deep. “Come on—no lugging, not today.”
Cool tossed her flaming mane and lugged harder.
You passed another pair of mounts—another fiery Kantonian Rapidash also dancing under its rider, and a beautiful Galarian one prancing like the cold had wound a key in its chest. Each rider gave you the same helpless, tight-jawed expression: My pokemon is being an idiot, please send help.
“Morning,” you called.
“Barely,” the other rider on the Kantonian rapidash grunted as their mount snorted smoke.
You didn’t even have time to laugh before it happened.
From a side street came the sound first—hooves striking rapid, uneven, too-light steps. Then the source turned the corner:
A Zebstrika, blaze patterning bright as lightning, whole frame vibrating with pent-up electricity. Her rider was hunched forward, both hands tight on the reins, heels down, posture perfect but absolutely outmatched.
“Easy—HEY—no—no, listen—!”
Zebstrika did not listen.
It snapped its head up violently, ripping the reins through the rider’s hands. Tail whipped the air like a charged cable. The Pokémon half-reared, slashed its front hooves, then landed and threw its weight sideways, trying to spin out from under the bit. The rider fumbled for the reigns, and stuck to the saddle with practiced grit—leaning, correcting, talking fast and low.
For a moment you thought they had it.
Then Zebstrika’s ears locked forward. A spark snapped across its mane.
And it launched.
It surged into a full, explosive gallop, arrowing down the street with the kind of reckless, self-important energy that could set off every horse-Pokémon within a mile. Her rider clung on for dear life.
Cool heard it. She processed it. And then absolutely came undone.
Her whole frame tightened beneath you, muscles bunching. Her head shot up, ears pinned, and then she let out a shrill, fiery squeal that vibrated straight into your spine.
“Oh, come on—no, no, no—COOL—!”
Your colleague’s voice rang out behind you. “Just let her go!”
And you knew they were right. There was no stopping a Kantonian Rapidash in this mood—not safely, and not kindly. You took one breath, dropped your weight forward—not to restrain, but to free—and reached for one of the Pokéball at your hip.
“Arcanine—clear the path!”
Your partner erupted into the street in a flash of red light, his massive, orange-striped form already bounding ahead, barking sharp to pedestrians and Pokémon alike. People jumped aside, startled but unhurt.
And Cool launched.
Her hooves struck sparks as she rocketed down the main avenue, the world narrowing to wind and light and instinctive balance. You held steady, hands low, legs long, letting her stretch, letting her run, letting her burn the energy that had ridden her like a second rider all morning.
Behind you, Diesel tried—bless him, he tried—to keep up, but a Mudsdale was never built for this. You heard your colleague shouting encouragement to him anyway, breathless laughter chasing after you both as they lumbered on.
“Don’t wait up!” they called, far, far behind.
As if you had a choice.
Cool thundered forward, flame mane streaming, Arcanine clearing the way like a seasoned pro. And all you could do was stay centered, stay calm, and ride the storm you’d known was coming the moment you felt that first coil of energy under your legs.
You didn’t stop her.
You guided her through it.
And Lumiose blurred by in streaks of cold, bright morning light.
Corbeau preferred this corner of Lumiose in the mornings—quiet enough to think, busy enough to watch. The early chill kept the crowds light, and the steam curling from his cup mingled with the thin fog rolling off Café Nouveau Truck No. 1.
Philippe stood beside him, posture crisp even off-duty, one hand wrapped around his tea, the other flipping through a small stack of reports. “The northern sector shipments aligned with projections,” he murmured. “But the warehouses—”
“Noisy,” Corbeau finished, eyes drifting over the page without really reading it. “Too many hands in the pot. And too many whispers.”
Philippe hummed an agreement.
From the truck window, Griselle leaned forward just enough to keep an eye on them—watchful, curious, but casual. Grisham, inside the truck, pretended not to notice Corbeau entirely, focused on a steaming milk pitcher with dedicated professionalism.
The street stayed calm for another heartbeat.
Then the barking began. Sharp. Commanding. And urgent.
An Arcanine.
Corbeau’s head snapped up. Philippe mirrored him, both immediately alert as the sound barreled closer—heavy paws on pavement, startled shouts, the kind of commotion that only came when something big and not under control was weaving through the early-morning foot traffic.
Philippe braced. “A wild pokemon?”
“Possibly.” Corbeau stood, already reaching for one of his Poké Balls. “But why would there be an Arcanine here?”
Grisham paused mid-pour, turning to look out the window. Griselle set her tray on the counter, mouthing something that looked suspiciously like, Oh, shit.
Philippe shifted, ready to move, but Corbeau held out a hand, stopping him. “Not you.”
“But boss—”
“It’s fire-type, Philippe.” Corbeau’s tone left no room for argument. “Yours would be at a disadvantage.”
Philippe’s jaw clenched, but he stepped back.
Corbeau pulled a different ball from his belt. “Scolipede won’t manage the heat either.” A beat. “Gyarados. Go.”
The red light burst upward, swirling into massive coils that took shape in an instant. Gyarados rose from the ground like a serpent of the sea, muscles rippling, maw parting in a thunderous roar that shook awnings and rattled café cups.
Arcanine skidded into view seconds later, barking, herding, clearing people aside like a professional—but to an outsider? To someone who didn’t know better? It looked like aggression.
Corbeau pointed. “Gyarados, use Waterfall—keep that Arcanine contained!”
Gyarados surged forward, water gathering along its form in rolling torrents before it slammed down in an arching strike. Arcanine dodged narrowly, paws scraping on wet stone. Another order, and Gyarados lunged with a brutal Bite that just missed the Arcanine’s flank.
“Hey!” Griselle barked from the truck window, but he didn’t glance her way.
Finally, one Waterfall hit its mark, crashing into Arcanine’s side, sending the huge canine tumbling, stunned and soaked.
Corbeau inhaled, ready to command again—
“STOP!”
Your voice cut through the street like a blade.
All heads whipped toward you as came barreling down the boulevard atop a flaming Rapidash, as if the sun itself had decided to gallop through Lumiose.
Cool’s hooves struck sparks in frantic rhythm, her body stretched long with speed she refused to give up.
Your Arcanine staggered to its feet, shaking off water, eyes watching you and Cool.
“Oh, my,” Grisham sighed from inside the truck.
Philippe muttered, “Ah, so the Arcanine must belong to them.”
You yelled again—“MOVE! GET OUT OF THE WAY”—but Corbeau, in a moment of brilliance or stupidity (likely both), thrust his hand forward.
“Block them! Stop the Rapidash!”
Gyarados lowered itself, massive form shifting across the street, creating a living barricade. It let out a roar so loud the glass on the café truck rattled.
Cool reacted instantly, screeching to a halt so violently her hindquarters skidded sideways, flames flaring high. You nearly catapulted over her neck, reins burning in your hands.
Before Corbeau could demand answers, you felt it.
The shift.
The tightening.
The unmistakable rise of a fire-type’s temper—especially a hot-blooded, high-strung, female Rapidash who had been forcibly pulled out of her run.
“Cool…? Cool, hey—hey, listen to me—”
Cool snorted loudly, like a fire-breathing dragon, as she pawed and stomped into the ground.
“It’s alright,” you tried to soothe, rubbing her slowly on her sweaty neck, “It’s okay, girl.”
Her ears flattened and her head lowered.
“...let’s make good decisions now, Cool…”
And then her horn lit. Bright. Blinding. And dangerous.
Your heart jumped into your throat. “Not good decisions—RECALL YOUR GYARADOS, NOW!” you yelled at Corbeau.
Corbeau’s eyes narrowed at you at the order. “Absolutely not—”
“DO IT!”
Cool reared, flames flaring violently, and you didn’t wait. You bailed off her left side, hitting the ground in a practiced roll just as she unleashed a hyper beam. The explosion of power and light tore across the street, narrowly missing Gyarados as it jerked out of the way, roaring in alarm.
Obstacle removed, Cool lunged forward again with a furious snort, charging ahead—
—but she didn’t get very far.
Your Arcanine, loyal even drenched, sprang into action. He darted in front of her, using his massive frame to redirect, herd, and block—but never attacking her. Just intercepting like a growlithe with a death wish.
Cool snapped and stomped at him, not truly aiming to hurt him, just furious he dared slow her down.
“Good job, Arcanine! Keep her there!” you shouted, breathless, scrambling to your feet.
Arcanine held the line.
And finally, Diesel’s heavy hoofbeats thundered into earshot.
Your colleague maneuvered Diesel closer, the Mudsdale’s massive hooves striking slow, grounded rhythms that contrasted wildly with Cool’s frantic prancing. With Arcanine keeping her path curved inward, your colleague leaned out, reached, and caught Cool’s reins.
Cool fought the pressure instantly, but Diesel’s sheer bulk blocked her ability to surge forward again. Your colleague pulled her nose inward, sending her hips outward. Cool stumbled once, twice, then began turning.
A tight, controlled circle. One that made her feet move sideways, not forward. One that forced her brain back into her body.
Her flames flickered, not as hot or flared, uncertainty breaking through anger.
“Good...good girl. That’s it—keep that bend—easy, now,” your colleague coaxed, applying steady inside rein, inside leg, calm as a sleeping Snorlax.
Cool circled again, breath heaving, muscles trembling as that explosive fire finally had somewhere to go.
A third circle.
A fourth.
Her steps softened. Her neck lowered. The blaze along her mane shrank from fury to mere adrenaline.
Only then did your colleague let her slow, transitioning her from spin to walk, Diesel blocking her forward motion like a living wall of earth and muscle.
Cool blew out a long, shuddering breath—one of those full-body releases horses give only when they’ve finally surrendered the fight.
And at last, she was calm.
Relief hit you so hard your knees nearly dipped. Cool was finally walking—tight, snorting, still full of opinions, but contained. Diesel’s bulk bracketed her neatly, Arcanine sat and watched her, tired, but ready to spring into action again.
You exhaled, and then rounded on the man responsible for the near-catastrophe.
“What the hell is wrong with you?!” You stalked toward Corbeau before you could think better of it, hands still shaking from the adrenaline. “I yelled at you to move! This pokemon wasn’t gonna stop! You put yourself, your Pokémon, and everyone here in danger!”
Corbeau didn’t flinch. He stood straight-backed, expression cool, collected…annoyingly serene. The type of man who could watch a building burn and critique the architecture.
“Mhm,” he said mildly. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
You blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Without my intervention,” he continued, voice smooth and just slightly edged with irritation, “your Rapidash would still be charging through Lumiose uncontrolled.”
You stared at him, momentarily speechless.
Then the words exploded out of you.
“You never—ever—try to stop a horse Pokémon through intimidation! Especially not one trained for mounted patrol!”
Your colleague nudged Diesel forward, letting Cool step alongside. “They’re flight animals,” they spoke up, wearily. “Even the trained ones. You throw something that size into their path, you risk a panic response. And with ones trained for police forces, they’re taught to stand their ground, and potentially fight, not flee.”
Diesel snorted as if punctuating the point. Cool snorted louder.
Philippe hummed thoughtfully, gaze sliding to the pair of you. “Mounted police forces, you say. Didn’t the Lumiose police sign a contract for mounted units recently?”
You perked slightly, adrenaline still crackling under your skin. “Yeah. Within the pass year or so, actually. We’re two of the trainers hired to exercise and condition the mounts.”
Corbeau’s brow lifted the barest amount. “Fascinating. I would have assumed you possessed more skill, then.”
You gasped, offended. “You—! You don’t know a damn thing about horse Pokémon or what I do!”
He didn’t rise to your anger. He didn’t even look at you. He simply continued, tone infuriatingly level.
“And while you accuse me of endangering my team, you endangered the citizens of Lumiose. That is what concerns me. Protecting them is my responsibility.”
Your fists clenched so tight your knuckles whined. Arcanine, who had made his way to your side, nudged your hip gently, grounding you.
Your colleague stepped in quickly, voice calm but firm. “Look—it’s part of working with horse Pokémon. They’re animals first. Wild, powerful, instinct-driven animals. But they weren’t a danger to anyone.”
You nodded sharply. “Cool just wanted to run. That’s literally what Rapidash do.”
“And you had Arcanine out,” your colleague added, “clearing a safe path. If anything, that reduced the risk significantly.”
“Exactly!” you said, jabbing a finger at Corbeau. “So for someone who supposedly protects Lumiose with his Pokémon, you sure don’t seem to understand a thing about working Pokémon—at least not these kinds of working Pokémon!”
Cool tossed her head as if agreeing wholeheartedly.
And for the first time, Corbeau’s expression cracked—not anger, not embarrassment—just the faintest flicker of intrigue behind his calm.
Griselle broke the tension first.
“You two want some coffee?” she shouted from the truck window, voice bright, unapologetically loud. “On the house!”
Grisham added, without looking up from his machine, “For the work you do.”
Corbeau’s jaw ticked almost imperceptibly. He said nothing, but the annoyance radiated off him like a silent pulse.
You exhaled once more, this time a short laugh, and shook your head. “No, thanks! We should really get back to the stables.”
“Mount depot,” your colleague corrected automatically.
“That’s what we’re calling it? That’s stupid.” You lifted a hand to scratch Arcanine’s wet ruff. “Good job, Arcanine. Why don’t you rest now” He groaned, leaning into your hand before disappearing in a flash of red.
Your colleague watched skeptically as you approached Cool, still warm and keyed-up despite her calm circle work. “You sure you want back on?”
“What kind of rider would I be if I didn’t get back into the saddle?” You said, before hoisting yourself up and onto the Rapidash. Then, you handed them the reins with a wry smile. “Besides, you’re the one that's gonna lead her. With Mudsdale as an anchor she'll be forced to walk and behave…I hope.”
Cool snorted as if insulted by the implication.
Then, the Zebstrika from earlier showed up, her rider looking like they’d run a marathon while fighting for their life. The Zebstrika herself looked done with humanity, ears pinned, tail cracking the air in electric annoyance.
“Oh my Arcues, I saw everything—are you okay?” the rider gasped.
“Yep,” you said, resigned. “For now, at least.”
As if on cue, the Zebstrika surged straight up, hindquarters launching skyward in a sharp, athletic buck. The rider stayed on with that uncanny jockey glue-seat, leaning forward, praising, correcting, moving with the Pokémon like they were part of the same machine.
“Hey—hey! Easy—mama—easy! Feet forward—not sideways—save it for drills—hey!”
Cool’s head shot up at the display, neck arched, nostrils flaring. You reacted instantly, one hand clamping onto the reins beside your colleague’s.
“No. Cool. Uh-uh. Cool. No.”
She danced in place, fiery mane flaring, but Mudsdale’s steady presence—and two sets of hands—kept her grounded.
Eventually, the Zebstrika’s tantrum dwindled into a restless prance. Her rider blew out a long breath.
“Something’s in the air,” you joked, shaking your head.
“No kidding,” they replied. “Cold mornings do it every time. I'm about to turn her ass around.”
You exchanged a few more horse-person-coded comments—about weather shifts, pent-up energy, feed changes, saddle fit, and “she was fine yesterday, I swear”—before they guided the Zebstrika away with a sympathetic wave.
You turned sharply toward Corbeau, eyebrows raised pointedly.
“See? It’s not just my mount.”
He didn’t reply, but his eyes narrowed, absorbing every detail, filing it somewhere behind that impassive exterior.
You nudged your colleague. “Lead the way before something else explodes.”
You made it a few paces before wind swept past in a soft, pastel blur.
A Galarian Rapidash drifted by like a prismatic ghost—legs extended, mane billowing like soft ribbons, the rider clinging with both dignity and sheer faith.
“Sorry!” they yelped as they shot past.
“Use your corners!” your colleague shouted after them.
“Circle them until they regret their life choices!” you added.
A faint, panicked “I’M TRYINGGGG—” echoed back.
You both burst into laughter, the kind only horse people understand, half camaraderie, half despair.
Cool flicked an ear, unimpressed.
As you disappeared down the street, Corbeau watched—silent, thoughtful, unreadable.
“Philippe,” he said at last.
“Yes, boss?”
“I want a file on them. And on the police mounts.” A pause. “Lumiose is investing in unfamiliar assets. I want to know exactly who—and what—we’re dealing with.”
Philippe nodded, already mentally organizing the task.
Corbeau glanced once more at the direction you’d vanished.
what do you know about rotom-powered technology? how does it work and how ethic is it?
Also, has rotom been around as long as the other pokemon? because it is difficult to imagine a plasma pokemon related to futuristic concepts wandering around in medieval kalos lololol
Thank you for the ask! Let’s break this topic into three key sections: Rotom-Tech Mechanics, Rotom-Tech Ethics, and History of Rotom!
Rotom-Tech Mechanics
Rotom are fascinating Pokémon known for their ability to inhabit various appliances, most notably electronic devices. When they do this, the device is transformed into a form that resembles a Rotom fused with the appliance, but most Rotom are also capable of transforming to more closely resemble the original item.
What was not known for some time, however, is that this inhabitation can be seen as a "symbiotic relationship" of sorts: not only does the Rotom gain some protection, and even sometimes new abilities and Typing, but the inhabited device itself benefits from enhanced functionality. For example, a computer inhabited by a Rotom may operate more efficiently, and a refrigerator may achieve colder temperatures than usual.
Additionally, Rotom also experiences an increase in intelligence that appears to directly correlate with the computational power of the device. While a Rotom in its base form is only marginally more intelligent than average for an unevolved Ghost-type (which is to say, clever, but not alarmingly intelligent by measurable means), inhabiting a smartphone can allow it to understand and even use human language.
Rotom-Tech Ethics
The ethical considerations surrounding Rotom-Tech align closely with broader discussions on Pokémon used in various roles. Rotom integrated into devices such as the Alolan RotomDex or RotoPhones are typically specially trained for these tasks. Many Rotom appear to take genuine pride in their work, showcasing their playful nature in ways that are often beneficial.
Enrichment is a vital aspect of their well-being. Rotom are naturally mischievous, and training programs often encourage harmless pranks, such as playful “glitches” or quirky commentary, to satisfy this trait.
The primary ethical concern lies in how Trainers treat these Pokémon in their roles. While this is not unique to Rotom, it underscores the importance of respecting and caring for Pokémon, whether they are companions, helpers, or partners in technology.
History of Rotom
You mention that it's "difficult to imagine" Rotom wandering aimlessly in a world without the devices they're so well known for inhabiting today. Luckily for our imagination, they didn't; Rotom are, and were, capable of inhabiting and controlling much less technologically advanced apparatuses.
In Hisui, Rotom were known primarily for inhabiting abandoned containers, and using them to startle passersby. They are also known to have utilized basic mechanisms, such as operating a winch to open a gate. While researchers initially overlooked the efficiency gains provided by Rotom due to their Electric-typing, it’s now recognized that these Pokémon were enhancing the functionality of tools and devices long before advanced electronics became commonplace.
The shot opens over a large grazing pasture. The sky is grey with rainclouds although it seems to be more of a drizzle than proper rain.
Whoever is holding the camera doesn't say anything as the video starts, but rather switches the angle to landscape view before focusing the lens on a flock of mareep and flaffy in the distance.
'Go to work.' A strange phrase out of context, but after a few seconds a manetric appears running at full tilt towards the flock, away from the camera man. The mareep immediatly begin avoiding the dog 'mon, which takes a wide arc around them and causes the entire flock to begin moving towards the camera.
The cameraman turns away and a hand is seen opening a gate, and dragging the wooden barbed wire fence outwards. The camera turns back to the manetric, who has successfully manuvered the mareep into a position where most of the flock willingly wanders into the open gate.
As the dog mon loops around the right side to 'motivate' stragglers, a single large teal colored mareep makes a break for it off the left side. The free hand of the cameraman comes up and a sharp whistle almost peaks the mic. The manetric perks up, notices the runaway and almost effortlessly intercepts the rebel.
The mareep puts up a fuss - to the point of releasing what could easily be recognized as a thundershock to most trainers.
The manetric seems unaffected by the attack - and has an almost unimpressed expression on its face - before baring sharp teeth and escorting the sheep back to the open gate with snarling and not a small amount of snapping at at its heels. (A trained eye would also notice that not once does the manetric actually touch the mareep - the bites are placed where the pokemon was, not where it would be.)
After the last sheep is secured behind the fence, and the latch shut, the cameraman gives the manetric a pat on the head, and the command 'Stand Down.'
The dog 'mon begins trapsing across the empty field, and halfway through lies on its back and does a good old fashioned victory wiggle in the grass.
Sylveon was discovered by carnival performers who, because of the nature of the job, used Eevees who had great charm and big baby-doll eyes. Their eevees were always very well taken care of, going out with their trainers dressed up in ribbons bows and ruffles. These factors combined with the large amount of praise given to the Pokemon is what they figured might be the catalyst for the special evolution.
The trade secret was kept for a long time but eventually reached public knowledge when circuses declined in popularity. It’s still considered the carnie’s eevee .
What kind of Pokemon are best for guarding? I have a farm with small Pokemon (Buneary mostly; I breed them for contests) and I'm worried about Pidgeot and Fearow eating my poor little Buneary.
I would definitely look into a solid Electric-Type, as they keep away predatory Flying-Types and also tend not be accidentally shock Buneary (seeing as they burrow underground). I would recommend an Ampharos for their calm and generally protective demeanor, and I’d advise staying away from the Shinx line, as they are also natural predators of Buneary.
Hi! I was wondering how much you knew about fire types? A couple months ago my Arcanine passed away (rest in peace Kazoo, I miss you so much). So now I'm looking into getting another fire type pokemon. I'm a blacksmith by trade, and a fire type that can get my forge up to the temps I need is incredibly useful to have!
This time around Id like to have a pokemon a bit smaller than a full grown Arcanine. Kazoo was originally on a competitive team that needed to be retired early due to an injury. Had I been her first trainer I probably would have kept her as a Growlithe.
All the fire types Ive looked at were all either, (1) MASSIVE, (2) Don't get hot enough for what I need (about 1500-2300°F), or (3) are generally unsuited to living in a home. At the end of the day my pokemon should be my friend! Not just a firestarter.
Do you have any ideas on what pokemon I should get?
flareon is probably your best bet. although their internal temperature doesn't quite meet what you need, they're able to use fire type energy to produce flames of up to 3000°f. a well-trained flareon can manipulate the temperature to be anywhere from about 1000°f to that max of 3000°.
a couple things to note with flareon, though. it's important you really research your breeder to make sure you get a pokemon that can meet your work needs. i wouldn't pick up an eevee or flareon from a shelter for this. poorly-managed breeding has resulted in an uptick of flame sac disorders upon evolution into flareon, and a flareon with this issue shouldn't be made to produce high-temp flames on the regular. most of the flareon that get surrendered to shelters were intended to be battling pokemon until their trainers found they couldn't keep up with the physical demands. flareon also need a higher ambient temperature than arcanine. while an arcanine can comfortably live at room temperature, flareon prefer an evironment that's at least 85°F. you'll need to make sure you can provide spaces that reach that temp for when your flareon is relaxing.
