A Smell of Petroleum Pervades Throughout
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February 27th, 2013 (01:36 AM).
Gone. May or may not return.
Join Date: Mar 2010
Location: The Misspelled Cyrpt
> Burn the house, and then use a stick to burn cyndaquil, if all else fails make sure to have a pocketful of sand and/or rocks to throw at it
The Lonesome House is about three seconds away from catching on fire, and you seriously doubt a monster whose back is perpetually aflame is going to mind being set on fire anyway.
Those Rocks are ready, though.
> Try giving the Cyndaquil a berry. Maybe that's all it really wants. If that fails, scream like a harpy and KICK IT IN THE FACE.
You hold out a Berry.
“Friends?” you ask diffidently.
Judging by the teeth embedded in your wrist, probably not.
Othodox is Wounded!
> Try and distract it by throwing the Hambone past it, when it turns around throw a Machine Pistol Magazine (I'd say the Lithium Batteries but you probably need them later) into the flames on its back, the explosion should hurt it. Chuck some of the rocks you have at it till you think you can catch it with your remaining pokeball.
> I like this but stuff some glass shards in the hambone, Halloween Candy this thing if all else fails give it a lava cookie and escape while it's vomitting
You would love to distract the Cyndaquil by rigging up an elaborate Glass-Studded Booby-Trapped Hambone, but it's pretty difficult with a pair of overgrown incisors sunk an inch into your wrist.
With your free hand, you whip the Hambone from your Bag and fling it past the Cyndaquil. As it sails over its head, it passes through the flames from its back and is immediately reduced to carbon.
The Cyndaquil slowly, deliberately lets go of your wrist and nudges you forwards with its snout.
, it seems to say.
Back off. Have a moment to think.
You stare. Is this thing...
Whatever the reason, it's just watching you at the moment, and you take the time to take a Machine Pistol Magazine from your Bag. You're willing to bet that whatever else it might be, this thing isn't bulletproof.
As if sensing you've chosen your weapon, the Cyndaquil suddenly lurches forward, barrelling towards you like a flaming bulldozer; you press yourself against the wall and watch it shoot past, taloned paws tearing ragged chunks from the floorboards. Those fire-spewing polyps on its back are, for a split second, right beneath you, and you drop the Magazine in place on them with ease.
Nothing happens for a moment; the Cyndaquil slams into the wall, sets it on fire and turns around to face you, all just like last time, back in New Bark.
Then the magazine explodes.
Shards of hot metal trace glowing lines through the air, puncturing plaster, shattering windows, tearing bloody streaks across the Cyndaquil's back; it shrieks and bucks wildly, trying to turn and see what new foe has attacked it from behind.
You'd feel satisfied if you hadn't got shot in the leg.
Othodox is Quite Badly Wounded! Othodox is Losing Blood!
You collapse, the chunks of lead in your thigh burning like hot coals. Any hope you had of running has gone out the window with the remnants of the Magazine; Lava Cookie or not, you're not going to be able to run. The Cyndaquil's back is peppered with bloody holes but it seems more pissed-off than hurt; you, on the other hand, are considerably less tough, and your weak attempts to crawl out of the door have not gone unnoticed.
Bloodshot eyes focus on you.
Synaptic flashes shoot through the abomination's brain, and you can almost see the gears grind into place behind those awful eyes:
I was fighting you. You are the only one here.
put that thing on my back.
The Cyndaquil stalks towards you, flame rolling off its back in reeking green waves. Distantly, you wonder what happened to turn it from something so timid into something so single-mindedly after your destruction; the mental change is at least as drastic as the physical. What would Elm say, you wonder? Perhaps he'd just wonder if it could breed... the man always did love a good Egg...
Your vision is a little wobbly now, and you can no longer quite feel your leg.
Othodox is Really Quite Wounded! Othodox is Bleeding Out!
Perhaps, you think, you ought to have been checking the Radar Mode more often. You were probably given it for a reason...
The Cyndaquil's jaws are very close now, and the stink of rotting meat drips from its rodentine teeth. It has killed a great many creatures to be here right now, and as you stare up absently into its eyes, you know that none of them, none of them whatsoever, mattered.
, and it won't rest until you're dead.
Othodox is Pretty Seriously Wounded! Othodox is Bleeding Out!
There won't be any stopping it, you realise calmly. Not without a real weapon, or a powerful Pokémon, or both. It's just not that sort of enemy.
Cyndaquil lowers its head, and a long hot tongue licks across your face. You can see its throat now, just above you, a pale sliver of grey bobbing beneath the skinless armour of its skull.
Last chance, kid. You'd better think of something before those incisors meet around your cranium.
The Thinking Man's Guide to Destroying the World
The Rocket Case
The Rocket Revival
Neither Here Nor There
Coriolanus Rowland's Guide to Pokémon Husbandry
Robin Goodfellow's Christmas Carol
Stranger Than Fiction
My Trip to the End of Time, by Pearl Gideon
A Smell of Petroleum Pervades Throughout
For information about A Grand Day Out, a bizarre short story in video game form, click
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