[Pokémon] A Smell of Petroleum Pervades Throughout

[destinedjagold]

Find a jar inside the house, and put some of that weird fire inside the jar and keep it as your protector-pet-thingy. :3

[Cutlerine]

> Find a jar inside the house, and put some of that weird fire inside the jar and keep it as your protector-pet-thingy. :3

You go back inside the Guide Gent's house, but the fire has got past the kitchen tiles and has started on the floorboards, and you don't feel it would be wise to plunge through it just to look for a jar.

Next door, however, you find a large, sturdy jam jar, and you tap your Spooky Flaming Torch on its rim, knocking a couple of cinders into it. You put the lid on, and watch in stupefaction as the inside of the glass catches fire. Without air.

Man. You're beginning to think that even hiding in that pond wouldn't have done anything to protect you from this stuff.

Still, the jar doesn't seem to be melting, and in fact seems to be burning at the rate of continental drift, so the fire in there will probably last for the foreseeable future.

Othodox obtained one Jar of Sentient Fire! Othodox put the Jar of Sentient Fire in the Epic-Tier Loot Pocket.

Oh, sweet. Something else to go in there.

>Should probably start moving on up to Violet City. Because that's the logical next step? Also, check the state of the dress I assume is still on, is it in good enough condition to continue protect your modesty?
> Head back up route 30, go grab another berry. Check your inventory and Spooky Torch Mark 2's burn level.

The dress is perfect, dahlink. Just perfect.

You walk on up Route 30, newly invigorated by your recently-gained position of Fire Hero (for such, in your state of sublimely inflated ego, you have decided to dub yourself). You regard the flaming wreck of the Lonesome House with pitiless disdain; hah! Eldritch Cyndaquil, indeed. You'd like to see who comes off worse between you now.

Actually, you think, coming to your sense for a moment, no you wouldn't.

You'd like to gather a Berry, but the tree is on fire and the Berries are exploding in the heat with little high-pitched screams that are totally unexpected and not a little disturbing. Hum. It seems they can feel pain.

It's probably best if you didn't think about that too much.

The path forks here. You could either continue up the log leading up the ledge to the path, where there are certain signs of disturbance, or go north through the long grass to the east by the pond. Now that Eldritch Cyndaquil is back in your mind, you don't feel confident about making a decision until told what to do by the voices in your head.

Huh. So much for the Fire Hero, then.

You decide to take the path above the ledge, since that's where you're mysterious saviour dropped you off, and also because the trees by the long grass are on fire.

Scrambling up the log onto the path, you note that, as before, there are signs of some kind of struggle here: a couple of toppled trees, a few huge claw-marks in the dust, a single human femur.

Aaaaaagh!

You start so violently you almost fall backwards off the ledge. There's no mistaking it: there, by that log, is a sun-bleached bone that most definitely belongs on the inside of a human leg.

You feel a little woozy, and have to sit down for a while. Christ. The first physical contact with another human since you got here, and they're dead. It says a lot about this place – or about the Narrator.

In the middle of these thoughts, you are struck by a peculiar noise – something like a crackling hiss, emanating from somewhere rather more close by than you're comfortable with. For one heart-stopping moment, you consider the possibility of the bone having an attendant ghost – and then a scarcely less disquieting revelation hits you: the sound is coming from your Bag.

You shudder, and grip your Dangerous Makeshift Knife more tightly. It's time to check your Inventory.

Inventory:
Adamantine Spider Silk x7
Beauteous Ring x1
Berry x1
Bloodstained Mail x1
Bulging Wallet x1
Dangerous Makeshift Knife x1
Decayed Potion x1
Delicious Meat Bits x6
Elm's Key x1
Flowery Wreath x1
Glass Shards x5
Green Apricorn x1
Half a Cup of Cold Coffee x1
Half a Roll of Gaffer Tape x1
Hambone x1
Hyper Potion x2
Jar of Sentient Fire x1
Lava Cookie x7
Lithium Batteries x4
Long-Range Scanner Attachment x1
Machine Pistol Magazine x6
Miracle Seed x1
Mysterious Note x1
Novelty Giraffe Shoe x1
Poké Ball x1
Potion x2
Powerless Tablet Computer x1
Rare Bone x1
Rocks x12
Shiny Stone x1
Spooky Flaming Torch x1
Stale Baguette x1
Stylish Dress x1
Togepi Egg Shard x2
Weird Shrivelled Thing x1

Nothing. No invading creatures; no eldritch beasties. What on earth could be...?

You frown, and pick up the Jar of Sentient Fire.

sss, crackle the flames, drybonesssburnssticksshungry...

Jesus Christ. The thing can talk.

You almost drop the Jar in astonishment. OK, so it is named the Jar of Sentient Fire, but still... you weren't expecting that.

Is this what makes the Cyndaquil so hungry, you wonder. The constant clamouring of its flames for food, neverending, driving it onwards in search of something, anything that can be digested and burned?

All right, time to forget that. There's no need to make the monster any creepier than it already is.

sss, the flames insist, feedussburnburnhungryy...

You look at the fire, and then at the bone.

“That?” you ask uncertainly, unable to quite believe you're talking to a jar full of fire.

deadflesshbonemeatburn, the fire replies.

You think that might be a yes, and with some trepidation you unscrew the lid of the jar and pour a little of the fire out onto the femur. It flares down its length and consumes it in seconds, roaring hungrily like a tiny tiger – and, much to your surprise, proceeds to crawl back into the jar, where it burns down low and emits strangely rhythmic popping noises.

If you didn't know that it was impossible, you'd say it was snoring.

You replace the lid carefully and stand up, staring at your fire.

Perhaps it's because you lit it, but it seems to be tame.

Now that could be useful.

OK, so it isn't really a Pokémon, but if you hold it up to the light and squint at it a bit, it might be a kind of green fiery Grimer without eyes. And therefore you, as a Pokémon Trainer, have just acquired a new 'Pokémon': your first in quite some time.

You grin, and decide the most logical thing to do now is to give her – you have arbitrarily decided your fire is female – a nickname.

Also to do something about the way her searing-hot jar is burning your hands.

Spooky Flaming Torch is 5% burned out.

Othodox is a Really Really Tiny Little Bit Wounded!

[Adin Terim]

Name your Jar of Sentient Fire new pokémon Vesta in honor of your goddess. Try and use the Adamantine Spider Silk to make a stylish pair of gloves that will match your dress and protect you from the heat. You should also probably eat a lava cookie to deal with your burn, unless a lava cookie is nothing more than a cookie then you need to use a potion to wash your burnt hands.

[Lopnis]

Do you think if we 'catch' Vesta with a pokeball it will melt like with the Totodile? Either way we should check Mr.Pokemon (Purveyor of all this strange in the pokemon world) House before we head to Violet City oh and the Pokedex to see if it will Register Vesta

[Cutlerine]

> Name your Jar of Sentient Fire new pokémon Vesta in honor of your goddess. Try and use the Adamantine Spider Silk to make a stylish pair of gloves that will match your dress and protect you from the heat. You should also probably eat a lava cookie to deal with your burn, unless a lava cookie is nothing more than a cookie then you need to use a potion to wash your burnt hands.
> Do you think if we 'catch' Vesta with a pokeball it will melt like with the Totodile? Either way we should check Mr.Pokemon (Purveyor of all this strange in the pokemon world) House before we head to Violet City oh and the Pokedex to see if it will Register Vesta

You name it Vesta, which does not please Tabiti. She is a proud and independent goddess of the Scythians, not some flimsy Roman knockoff.

Othodox's Devotion has decreased!

Othodox is now Regarded Frostily by Tabiti!

Damn it. The Name Rater had better have survived the apocalypse, you think darkly.

Now, for something to protect your hands. You eat a Lava Cookie, but it seems it only really works on Pokémon, so you wash your hands in a Potion instead. That does the trick, and the worst of the stinging disappears.

That done, it's time to prevent them from getting burned again. You can't even cut the Silk, let alone make something out of it to match the Dress, but you take a couple of bits, wrap them around your hands and hold them in place with strips of tape. Inelegant, but functional.

Othodox crafted one Shoddily-Made Pair of Heat-Resistant Gloves! Othodox put the Shoddily-Made Pair of Heat Resistant Gloves on his hands.

Kurt's got nothing on you. He might be able to hollow out fruit and use it to catch Pokémon, but you can make shoes and gloves like nobody's business. If you survive this, you're thinking of setting up a tailor's shop in Goldenrod. Othodox & Sons (you have no sons, but it sounds good): Suppliers of Stuffed Shoes and Flame-Retardant Gloves to the Landed Gentry. Est. 2012.

You wonder if any sign-painters are still alive. You'd love to get that shop sign done up all fancy, with gold cursive script on a dark green background.

Mm. Lovely.

Rousing yourself from your reverie, you ponder what to do next. You could try and catch Vesta with a Poké Ball, but you only have one and you're really not sure you want to risk losing it on something that may not even be catchable. Perhaps you could check what the Pokédex categorises her as; if it can register her, it might be worth trying.

With that in mind, you get it out and point it at the Jar. Perhaps unsurprisingly, it seems a bit confused; at first, the entry for Cyndaquil pops up, to be replaced abruptly with that for Grimer. Then it switches to Eldritch Cyndaquil, and finally compromises by adding a new entry between Cyndaquil and Quilava whose name appears to be NEW SPECIES [PLEASE ENTER NAME DATA MANUALLY]. Apparently, the Pokédex believes this to be an alternate evolutionary line of Cyndaquil, and has this to say about it:

A new species only recently discovered by the Pokémon Trainer Othodox. Little is known about it, but its consuming hunger is unrivalled by that of any other species.

This prompts you to have a look at Vesta to try and work out her stats, but whatever the Pokédex thinks, you're sure she isn't a Pokémon: you can't work out her Level or anything. It seems she's just a fire, albeit an abnormally intelligent one.

You keep her jar in hand as you make your way further north up Route 30. You haven't forgotten that the Radar Mode registered thirty-nine Pokémon on this Route last time you used it, and you don't want to be defenceless if you run into any of them. You put your Dangerous Makeshift Knife back in your Bag; the Torch and Vesta seem like more potent weapons right now, especially as the Knife, being made of glass, doesn't seem to have been taking the strain of use too well and is now distinctly cracked.

The northwestern part of Route 30 is of a distinctly higher elevation than the surrounding grasslands, and that's probably why you don't notice the bodies before you reach the top of the incline. Once you do, however, you can't help but stare.

There is a veritable field of Eldritch Pokémon here, claws and tentacles and grotesque excrescences protruding hideously into the air, and every single one is dead.

What the hell happened here?

You take a few cautious steps towards a couple of things that might once have been Rattata, and bend down to have a look. They're covered in a multiplicity of slashing wounds and claw marks, and the same dark ichor that flowed from the Cyndaquil's neck when you cut it seems to have crystallised around the injuries into a kind of foetid crust. There are also some shorter, deeper wounds that, unlike the others, don't seem to correspond with the marks of a Pokémon attack – but you have no idea what might have caused them.

You straighten up after that, unwilling to be so close to the bodies for too long. The smell is unbelievable; there's that same odour of crude oil that all the Eldritch Forms seem to share, but overlaid with the horrible stench of rotting flesh and the dark stink of blood.

Did the beasts here kill each other? No, that can't be right... Rattata fight mainly with their incisors, and there's no sign of bite marks anywhere on these bodies. You move on through the field a little, and see some long, twisted things that were probably Sentret – no bites on them, either, and Sentret too are prone to using their teeth to win fights.

Then you come across something absolutely godawfully terrifying that may once have been a Pidgey and is now a cross between a pterodactyl, a California condor and a leprous frog, and realise that the claw marks were definitely made by talons. Those long wounds, too... they would correspond to Air Slashes, you think. Was this a battle between birds and rodents?

No, that makes no sense either. The Eldritch Pidgey has been split almost in two by another Air Slash wound, and there are the same short, deep gashes in its breast that you've seen on the other creatures. It wasn't fighting them; it was a victim too.

So what happened?

You're not sure you want to stick around to find out, and hurry past the killing field quickly, leaving the smell behind you and pressing on to the north.

Here, the path diverges: there's a small tree blocking the way to Mr. Pokémon's house to the right, and the main road leading to Violet City to the north. Since the voices in your head have been insisting upon it for ages now, you push past the tree and head down the hill again to the right. You pass through a short avenue of trees and then, all at once, the house rises up before you; it always seems to come at you out of nowhere. It's probably the remote location, and the weird beams from the satellite dish that Mr. Pokémon installed on the roof to make his position untrackable by the CIA.

Mr. Pokémon is a man of many beliefs. Some of them even make sense.

His Berry – or Apricorn, it seems inconsistent – tree is gone; judging by the bite marks in the stump, it looks like something chewed it in half and walked away with the important end. His mailbox is empty, and the door to his house wide open.

You pause.

You are not sure why the door would be open, but you are equally sure that it should not be.

Perhaps you should think carefully and consider your options before entering.

[Raquira]

Considering?Thinking? Pshh, thats stuffs for losers. into the house we go, to kill whaterver lurks inside!

[Adin Terim]

Pray in penance to your goddess; explain that of course the charlitains that are the roman gods/goddesses pale in comparison to the one true pantheon of gods/goddess of the Scythians. And that the history of the Scythians is so very lacking in today's society and that the romans had a version of you is the only thing you could think of when trying to name the Jar of Sentient Fire in your honor. Offer up the bodies of the Eldritch Pokémon in sacrifice to Tabiti for your hubris.

Try and use the pokédex to see if there are any pokémon near by before doing something stupid.

For the name maybe, Calcivour the Eldritch Flame Pokémon. (calcine - set on fire and devour - consume)

[Lopnis]

Try to convince Tabitti that naming her Vesta was actually a hit on the Roman Goddess comparing her to flaming mush, Also go inside best case scenario it's a crazy Mr.Pokemon, which in my books would be a distinct improvement to the things we've seen thus far worst case it's an Evolved Eldritch Quilava who's looking for revenge and would be immune to your many new fire based attacks....maybe we shouldn't go in there >.>

[Cutlerine]

> Pray in penance to your goddess; explain that of course the charlitains that are the roman gods/goddesses pale in comparison to the one true pantheon of gods/goddess of the Scythians. And that the history of the Scythians is so very lacking in today's society and that the romans had a version of you is the only thing you could think of when trying to name the Jar of Sentient Fire in your honor. Offer up the bodies of the Eldritch Pokémon in sacrifice to Tabiti for your hubris.
Try and use the pokédex to see if there are any pokémon near by before doing something stupid.
For the name maybe, Calcivour the Eldritch Flame Pokémon. (calcine - set on fire and devour - consume)
>Try to convince Tabitti that naming her Vesta was actually a hit on the Roman Goddess comparing her to flaming mush, Also go inside best case scenario it's a crazy Mr.Pokemon, which in my books would be a distinct improvement to the things we've seen thus far worst case it's an Evolved Eldritch Quilava who's looking for revenge and would be immune to your many new fire based attacks....maybe we shouldn't go in there >.>

You offer a quick prayer to Tabiti, but whether or not she exists, she still seems pissed-off with you. A Roman version indeed! Don't you understand the interpretatio graeca? There are no equivalents, only mortal attempts at drawing parallels.

Othodox's Devotion has decreased!

Othodox is Viewed with a Cold Heart by Tabiti!

Not for the first time during the course of your journey, you consider the possibility that you have gone insane. I mean, it would explain the nightmarish horrors you've encountered, and it would also explain why you appear to be taking the imaginary opinions of a nonexistent deity so seriously.

It would also explain why you're wearing a dress, a wreath and a stuffed toy as a shoe.

Well, insane or not, you still have to deal with your current situation. Purely to put off entering Mr. Pokémon's house for a while longer, you open up the Pokédex and enter a new species name for Vesta's... type. Whatever she is.

REGISTERED:
CALCIVOUR, the ELDRITCHFLA Pokémon.

Wait, 'Eldritch Flame' doesn't fit? Damn it. Can you edit it...? Ah, crap. So much for your marvellous contribution to science.

You sigh, and take advantage of your distraction to quietly enter Mr. Pokémon's house before you get too scared to do so.

The inside is a mess. Tables have been overturned, display cases shattered and valuable curiosities and machinery scattered across the floor; there are clumsily-punched holes in the walls and the vast television that always used to inspire such envy in you has been bodily hurled across the room, judging by the marks on it. A pair of shoes protrude from underneath it, but you don't feel like going to find out if they still have feet in.

(Hint: they probably still have feet in.)

But all of this pales into insignificance before the thing directly opposite you, in the middle of the far wall. Seven feet of gleaming blue-black armour, barbed and hooked at every possible opportunity; taloned fists like paired meathooks, each claw lovingly coated with hundreds of tiny serrations; feet the size of your skull, clearly the cause of the cracked floorboards – and a single, towering horn at the front, snapped off halfway down its length but still obviously lethal. It gives off a powerful smell of crude oil and linseed, but even without that there's no mistaking that this is the scariest thing you've ever seen.

It's very obviously an Eldritch Heracross, and you are incredibly relieved to see that someone has pinned it to the wall with an enormous metal spike.

You take a few cautious steps towards it, reluctant to come too close; as the mysterious note made clear to you, Eldritch Pokémon aren't easy to kill, and despite the way it hangs lifeless from its pin you don't want to risk anything. If that thing came back to life and managed to get within three feet of you, you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that it would kill you almost instantly, with or without Vesta defending you.

The Heracross remains motionless.

You let out a long, shaky breath. You still aren't sure whether it's alive or not, but you're halfway across the room and it hasn't moved yet, so you assume it's safe to take your eyes off it and investigate the room.

There's a huge pile of mechanical parts, some of which may still be functioning, in one corner of the room, where they used to be displayed; there are many more bits of electronic gubbins scattered across the floor, as well as a few shattered bits of bone, eggshell and other trophies. There is another heap of goods in another corner, this time mostly organic in origin.

Most alluringly of all, there is a steel briefcase on the floor directly underneath the pinned Heracross. Its lid is slightly ajar, but maddeningly, it faces away from you so you can't see what's inside it. You can, however, make out a very faint blue light emanating from within.

To get to it, though, you'll have to pass within a foot of the beast on the wall.

Spooky Flaming Torch is 12% burned out.

[Raquira]

I bet Vesta is Hungry. Lets give her a taste of Eldritch Heracross, and when you know it's dead, take the breifecase.

[Lopnis]

Before we do anything that wakes the Heracross up look under the t.v. so see if those shoe's are a surivivor a victim or just a pair of shoes not a giraffe, and look to see if there's anymore togepi eggshells, and I wonder if organic means living creatures or plants and berries

[Cutlerine]

> I bet Vesta is Hungry. Lets give her a taste of Eldritch Heracross, and when you know it's dead, take the breifecase.

This would be suicide. Vesta is, as ever, a creature of endless ravening, but even she won't be able to burn the Heracross to death before it wakes up and swaps your skull and sternum around. Sure, you might take it down with you, but really, you'd rather stay alive than die, even if it is a heroic death.

> Before we do anything that wakes the Heracross up look under the t.v. so see if those shoe's are a surivivor a victim or just a pair of shoes not a giraffe, and look to see if there's anymore togepi eggshells, and I wonder if organic means living creatures or plants and berries

Christ. You were hoping no one would make you do this, but...

You tiptoe over to the TV, and take a closer look at the shoes. By a supreme effort of will, you manage to hold back the vomit.

You have found Mr. Pokémon.

It looks like the Heracross picked up the TV and threw it at him with enough force to flatten him from head to ankles. If anything, it's a testament to the strength of the TV; it's almost entirely undamaged. If you were some kind of master blacksmith, perhaps you could create a suit of armour out of it. Or would that be too stupid? Either way, it's too big to take with you, so you leave it and the body it covers alone.

You turn your attention to the pile of organic refuse. Rooting through it turns up a few interesting scraps.

Othodox found one Togepi Egg Shard! Othodox put the Togepi Egg Shard in the Bits o' Egg Pocket.

Othodox found one Sealed Box of Dustox Powder! Othodox put the Sealed Box of Dustox Powder in the Powdered Goods Pocket.

Othodox found one Poisonous Needle! Othodox put the Poisonous Needle in the Weapons Pocket.

That last one looks like it would be a more than adequate replacement for your Dangerous Makeshift Knife. A little tag on it proclaims it came from a Beedrill of unusual size shot near Blackthorn a few years ago; it's still oozing beads of clear liquid from the tip. It just needs a handle of some kind and you could stab pretty much anything to death with it.

Well, anything weak to Bug or Poison, anyway.

Spooky Flaming Torch is 13% burned out.

There is a (possibly) dead Eldritch Heracross here.

There is an alluring briefcase here.

There is a pile of mechanical parts here.

There is a corpse under a TV here.

To the south is the exit to Route 30.

[Lopnis]

See if there's anything of real interest in the mechanical parts than test the waters by getting just close enough that your out of the Heracross' reach and throw a rock at it, if it attacks toss Vesta at it and run for the exit

[Raquira]

Instead of possibly angeringg the beast, why dont we try and use a branch ir something to slide the breifcase over to you without getting in range of the crazy monster-beast.

[destinedjagold]

Well, so much for visiting Mr. PKMN.
Take his shoes off and see if it's still okay to wear, and if it's comfortable to wear than your shoe-handiwork.

[Ragnia]

Try to slide the briefcase over to you without getting the attention of the possibly dead Heracross. Worse case scenario, toss the almost burnt out torch at it and get the heck out.

[Cutlerine]

> Well, so much for visiting Mr. PKMN.
Take his shoes off and see if it's still okay to wear, and if it's comfortable to wear than your shoe-handiwork.

Didn't you read something once about wearing a dead man's shoes? No? All right, then.

You pull off his shoes, and Jesus Christ his feet come with them—

You recoil with a muffled shriek and drop the shoes immediately. There's no way you're going to even touch those now, still less put your feet in them.

On the plus side, you have now seen so many horrible things that you aren't especially bothered about the severed feet lying on the floor. Just as long as you don't have to touch them.

Or, y'know, go within three feet of them.

> See if there's anything of real interest in the mechanical parts than test the waters by getting just close enough that your out of the Heracross' reach and throw a rock at it, if it attacks toss Vesta at it and run for the exit
> Instead of possibly angeringg the beast, why dont we try and use a branch ir something to slide the breifcase over to you without getting in range of the crazy monster-beast.
> Try to slide the briefcase over to you without getting the attention of the possibly dead Heracross. Worse case scenario, toss the almost burnt out torch at it and get the heck out.

The pile of mechanical parts is full of interesting things, most of which you can't even name. Thankfully, the Narrator names each one for you, and you pick a few still-functioning gizmos up to take with you.

Othodox found one Machine for Predicting the Number of Pips in an Unopened Orange! Othodox put the Machine for Predicting the Number of Pips in an Unopened Orange in the WTF Pocket.

Othodox found one Portable Spratchery! Othodox put the Portable Spratchery in the WTF Pocket.

Othodox found one My First Tri-Beam Ray Gun^TM! Othodox put the My First Tri-Beam Ray Gun^TM in the Child's Toys Pocket.

Sweet, a ray gun! No, wait – damn it, it's just a plastic toy. It does make five different sounds and light up in six colours, though. You could have hours of fun with this thing.

The pip-predicting machine, though? You cannot envision any situation where you might possibly need to use it. You're still going to keep it, though. I mean, you're still hanging onto that Miracle Seed when there's clearly no Pokémon around that you can give it to, so anything as beautiful as that machine (and believe me, it's the most gorgeous piece of engineering you've ever seen) is definitely not getting thrown away.

You turn your attention to the Heracross and the briefcase beneath it. There doesn't seem to be any possible way of getting over to it without risking horrendous bloody death, so you decide that the voices are right, and that you ought to try and drag it over with a branch or something. A short trip outside furnishes you with the requisite materials, and you creep as close as you dare to the pinned beast, branch in hand.

You reach out. The tip of the branch wobbles, tracing erratic circles in the air; it keeps edging perilously near to the Heracross' legs, only to waver away again at the last moment. It's like it wants to brush the shiny carapace, to tickle the bug back into life; you find yourself cursing the branch, sweat trickling down your brow, ordering the blasted thing to stay still and go where you want it—

Tap.

The branch passes neatly through the handle of the briefcase, and a quick jiggle confirms it isn't falling out any time soon.

You breathe a quiet sigh of relief, and take a short break to wipe the sweat from your brow. Christ. You really hate being around monsters of this calibre. In fact, you couldn't be much more tense if there was an Eldritch Tyranitar in the room.

Oh God. You hope you didn't just give the Narrator an idea.

You take a deep breath, and take up the branch once more. Slowly, carefully, you begin to draw it back.

Kkkkkrrk.

The scraping of the case across the floorboards seems very loud.

Kkkkrrrkk.

The briefcase stops.

You frown. Has it got stuck on something? You squint at it, and surmise that it's stopped over one of the big splits the Heracross' feet have left in the floor. It must have caught on some jags of wood or something.

You debate giving it a tug. It might be noisy, but there's probably something you want in the briefcase...

Screw it. Your magpie-like tendencies win out over caution, and you tug sharply on the branch.

Crack!

There's a sound of snapping wood, and the briefcase shoots towards you like a skimmed stone. Your eyes dart to the Heracross, and—

The great fists curl abruptly.

—oh, crap.

They uncurl again slowly, and the Heracross' mighty horn twitches as its titan head rises from its silent contemplation of the floor; bloodless white eyes flick open, and one hand rises to the pin in its chest—

—and then suddenly it's across the room, and you never even have a chance to blink—

—and then the two separated halves of the Heracross fly past on either side of you, trailing dark ichor and unidentifiable gunk, and you are left standing there with a look of vague stupefaction on your face and a spreading warmth in your underwear.

“It took you long enough,” says a cracked voice – a familiar voice – from behind you. “We thought you'd arrive ages ago.”

You turn, and there he is.

Your mysterious saviour.

It's Falkner, and he's riding a freaking dragon.

[Lopnis]

Say the following Statement outloud (If you still can after talking with the voices in your head for this long) "Falkner you're alive, But how? And why were you waiting for me?" while containing the need to jump up and dance with joy there's something alive besides you and the monsters

[destinedjagold]

Falkner definitely knows what's going on. So ask him what's going on.
If he's friendly, ask for something to eat.

[Cutlerine]

> Falkner definitely knows what's going on. So ask him what's going on.
If he's friendly, ask for something to eat.
> Say the following Statement outloud (If you still can after talking with the voices in your head for this long) "Falkner you're alive, But how? And why were you waiting for me?" while containing the need to jump up and dance with joy there's something alive besides you and the monsters

You stare.

“Falkner...?”

“Yes,” he replies impassively. “Me. And you're... well. I'm not sure what you're called this time. There have been a lot of you.”

He looks a bit different now, you realise. It would seem that he's been living here for a while; his hair is longer and wilder than you remember, and he seems to be missing an eye. There is also a large and hideous scar running from his left temple down to his chin; it looks like someone stuck a rope under his skin.

“You're alive,” you manage at last. “But... how? And why were you waiting for me?”

Now that you've moved somewhere halfway to acceptance of the situation, you want to jump up and down and hug him, but Falkner didn't do hugs even before the apocalypse, and this dragon-riding, axe-wielding new version of him probably doesn't either.

“I'm always here,” he tells you. “Every time.” He pauses, perhaps waiting for you to say something – but you don't, and he continues. “Come on,” he said. “You can't stay here. Your Quilava is coming.”

You start. The last you heard, it was a Cyndaquil.

“What? How do you know? And how the hell is it mine?”

“It's your starter,” he replies. “That's how it works here. And I know it's coming because I saw it as I flew south to get you.” He sticks his axe in his belt and pats the back of the hideous beast beneath him. “Get on.”

Your starter? What does he mean by that? You chose Totodile as your starter, you remember it clearly. What on earth is going on here? Hopefully he'll explain later, but... well, for now you'd better do as he says. After all, he quite clearly holds all the cards here.

It's at this point that you realise that the Air Slash that cut the Heracross in two actually cut through the façade of the house as well, and that's why you can see Falkner now; the thing beneath him, which walks on its wings like a pterodactyl and trails vivid bloody plumes from its naked skull, must be exceptionally powerful. You can only imagine it must be an Eldritch Pidgeot; how Falkner tamed it is beyond you. Although the iron collar around its neck with inward-pointing spikes gives you something of a clue.

With some trepidation, you step through the ruined front wall of Mr. Pokémon's house and approach the beast; it tips its serrated beak at you, and screeches wildly – but Falkner yanks on a chain attached to the bladed collar on its neck, and it recoils sharply. Ichor oozes from fresh cuts on its throat, bringing with it a strong smell of petrol.

“Leave him,” he growls. “He's coming with us.”

The Pidgeot seems to acquiesce, though whether it's because it understands Falkner or because it doesn't want its throat cut is a matter of some conjecture.

“Is that thing... safe?” you ask hesitantly.

Falkner looks at you as if you've just announced you threw the pin instead of the grenade.

“What the hell do you think?” he asks. “He's a bloodthirsty monster the size of a Land Rover. Just get on his back.”

You gulp. OK, then. Time to be brave.

You put one hand on the Pidgeot's pulsing flank, in between two thorny spines that look like the remnants of feathers, and cautiously pull yourself up.

Nothing happens. The Pidgeot does not throw you off, or lash you with its tail-blades, or turn around and peck you into oblivion.

You are sitting on the back of the most dangerous thing you have ever climbed aboard, and it isn't killing you.

OK, then.

Things are looking up.

“Hold on,” says Falkner curtly. “We're going back to the base. To meet the others.”

“Others?” you begin, but you never get any further. The Pidgeot kicks away from the ground with a violent jerk and then suddenly you are screaming upwards into the sky at unimaginable speed—

—then there is an abrupt twist that almost flings you from the monster's back, and you are cruising along in level flight on wings that seem part membranous and part feathered, and almost entirely tattered. In the few seconds since the flight began you seem to have risen to a staggering height; Johto is laid out below you like a child's playset. You can see a column of green fire burning its way towards Mr. Pokémon's house, and shiver with relief as you think of the kilometres of unnavigable space between your eldritch nemesis and you – but that swiftly vanishes as you take in the rest of what you can see.

The mountains to the east are normally dominated by the impossibly-large Pokémon League headquarters – but now the great building is gone, replaced by a titanic black castle, all jagged edges and pointed windows; it looks like it was built thousands of years ago by mad giants who respected neither aesthetics nor the laws of physics, and rambles upwards and outwards and onwards across the mountains in a blood-chilling tangle of knotted spines.

The west is no better. A perfect hemisphere of darkness has settled over Ecruteak City, as if someone poured the night sky into a bowl, sieved out the stars and set it carefully over the city. Faint, curling plumes of shadow flake from the hemisphere's surface, rising into the sky like smoke and staining the clouds where they touch them.

Furthermore, the glittering towers of Goldenrod City are undulating slowly in the wind, like vast plants tossed by a gentle breeze, or snakes stirring in their sleep. As you watch, a cloud of unidentifiable winged things bursts from the topmost floor of the Radio Tower and wheels through the sky, fighting over something that drops in pieces to the ground below. Given the distances involved, you think, those things and whatever it is they're fighting over must be absolutely enormous.

You turn to look south, half to keep your eyes out of the biting wind and half to avoid the horrors in front of you, and see that Azalea Town is gone. The forest has marched into town and swallowed, and though the occasional rooftop can be seen through the trees, most of it seems to have vanished. As you stare, you think you can see something with webbed paws and staring eyes screaming at the sky atop one of the trees – but then it slithers away, and you see no more.

“What the hell is going on?” you yell over the howl of the wind.

Falkner laughs.

“We'd all like to know that, wouldn't we?” he replies.

“You don't know?”

“We know some things,” he tells you. “Like that.” He points at where the League used to be. “There's no crossing into Kanto now. The things that fly around that castle are not Pokémon and never were. They came with whoever put that thing there, and if anything comes too close, Eldritch Pokémon or not, they kill and eat it.”

You squint. You can't see anything flying around the castle, but that actually scares you more than if you could. You imagine talons shooting out of holes in the masonry, snatching you from the Pidgeot's back, and shiver from more than just the cold.

“Then there's Goldenrod, where there are... We're not sure.” He pauses. “No one has gone beyond the city limits and returned.” Without looking around, he points behind you. “Azalea. Things crawled out of the well and ate the bugs. You could hear Bugsy screaming for weeks before they got him.”

The Pidgeot is starting to bank around now, to turn to the east, and you point over Falkner's shoulder towards Ecruteak and the dome of darkness.

“What about that?” you ask. “What's that?”

“That's Ecruteak,” he replies, and is silent for a long, long time. “We don't go there any more,” he says eventually.

He tugs expertly on the chains attached to the Pidgeot's collar and steers it further to the left; now, it's heading to the southwest, towards the deep forests around the Union Cave area.

“Where are we going?” you ask.

“To the last safe haven,” he replies, as the Pidgeot begins to lose height, the trees rising closer and closer with each noisome wingbeat. “The only place in Johto without monsters.”

A safe haven? That sounds good to you. You've had more than enough of the whole 'constant fear' thing that's been going on lately.

The remnants of Azalea Town vanish off to the left, and then suddenly the trees open up around a tiny clearing centred on a small wooden structure. The Pidgeot's wingspan is longer than the clearing is wide, and you wonder how it will land – but it simply folds its wings and takes the brutal impact on its hind legs, almost knocking you from its back, then drops back down onto its wing-claws. It shrieks once, and Falkner pats its head reassuringly.

“Good boy,” he says. “Good boy.”

You look around, and are surprised to find that you know this place. It's the shrine in Ilex Forest – but not as you've ever seen it before. A bright white light shines out through the wooden framework of the shrine from some unknown source, and as it touches you you feel a beautiful sense of rightness wash over you; it feels as if all the horrors you have encountered over the last day and a half are being burned somewhere in a back room where you neither have to see nor smell them. It feels like a breath of summer, like sunlight and good wine; it smells like freshly-mown grass, chocolate and amaranth. It even drowns out the petrol-and-piss stink of the Pidgeot.

You slither weakly from the monster's back, and crumple to the ground in exhausted ecstasy.

“It gets us all that way,” says Falkner, dismounting with practised ease and leading the Pidgeot away into the shade between two trees. “Give it a minute, you'll be fine. I just need to get Jawson out of the light... Eldritch Pokémon can't stand this place.”

“Flugh,” you reply, closing your eyes and basking in the warmth of the shrine's enigmatic light. “Bloooo...”

OK. That's better. You sit up and rub a hand over your face. You feel so much better now.

Vesta is Touched by the Spirit!

Vesta is losing health!

Ah, crap. Looks like Vesta isn't, though. She's not as tough as the Pidgeot, and the light of the shrine appears to be bad for her. You get up slowly, walk over to where Falkner's left Jawson and take the jar containing Vesta out of your Bag.

“I need to store this somewhere,” you say. “Can I leave it here?”

Falkner looks at it curiously.

“Huh,” he says. “You're the first one to think of that.” He nods approvingly. “Good. You might survive a day or two longer.” He motions to the darkness outside the clearing, where Jawson lies curled on a nest made of whole trees. “Just leave it here. The shrine's influence doesn't extend very far.”

You set Vesta down and poke a couple of twigs into the jar to keep her going, then follow Falkner back to the shrine. You see now that there's a large collection of stuff lying around here: clothes, food, bits of strange machinery, whole articles of furniture – all the kind of weird crap you've been picking up so far on your journey. Falkner must have done some serious looting too.

“So.” Falkner turns his back to the shrine and looks at you frankly with his remaining eye. It has an unnerving tendency to wobble a bit, but you can put that down to shock and see past it. I mean, there's someone here to help you. You don't care what they look like, as long as they'd rather aid you than eat you. “So,” he says. “It's probably easier if you ask the questions. What do you want to know?”

[destinedjagold]

Question time!
1. Where are the other survivors?
2. What did Falkner mean by "I'm not sure what you're called this time. There have been a lot of you" ...?
3. Are there any other gym leaders alive?
4. Are the Elite Four alive?
5. Where's Red?

[Lopnis]

Add anything you don't want to keep, are not wearing and won't harm anyone to the pile of supplies put your most helpful foot forward, Ask if the Pokegear network is still up and if calling for help from Sinnoh Hoenn or Kanto would be possible finally Ask how he found this place and who else is part of the survivors.

[Daydream]

Ask Falkner his opinion on your snazzy dress. Do a twirl for him.

[Cutlerine]

> Ask Falkner his opinion on your snazzy dress. Do a twirl for him.

“What do you think of the dress?” you ask, twirling.

Falkner considers. The fact that he's taking this seriously makes you wonder about how sane he is, but then again, you're not exactly certain about your own state of mind either.

“You fill it well,” he says at length. “Though your flat-chestedness makes it a little loose in front. Aside from that, you have a good figure for it.”

Well, mostly positive. At least he gave you some constructive criticism.

> Question time!
1. Where are the other survivors?
2. What did Falkner mean by "I'm not sure what you're called this time. There have been a lot of you" ...?
3. Are there any other gym leaders alive?
4. Are the Elite Four alive?
5. Where's Red?
> Add anything you don't want to keep, are not wearing and won't harm anyone to the pile of supplies put your most helpful foot forward, Ask if the Pokegear network is still up and if calling for help from Sinnoh Hoenn or Kanto would be possible finally Ask how he found this place and who else is part of the survivors.

“Where are the others?” you ask him. “Are they Gym Leaders, like you?”

Falkner nods.

“Yeah. Most people died pretty soon after everything started, but the strong survived. The Leaders. The Elite Four. A few other Trainers here and there.” He looks around, vaguely confused. “They should be here... oh, yeah. They're probably sleeping again.” Falkner laughs, and there's something that you really don't like about his laugh. “Hey, guys, come on out!”

You watch with increasing unease as he stalks over to one of the heaps of supplies – the one you thought was clothing – and hauls out something that looks awfully like a scarecrow: straw-stuffed shirt and trousers, painted-sack face, limply dangling hands.

“There we are,” he says with satisfaction, ramming its stick deep into the earth. “Recognise her now?”

“Uh...” You're not sure what to say. Your instinct is telling you to run, run as far away from the madman as possible, but he's got an Eldritch Pidgeot and you'd rather stay on his good side. Consequently, you want to say yes – but you have no idea who the scarecrow's meant to be. “Uh, is that...?”

“Clair, yes,” says Falkner, grinning. His eye is, for reasons known only to himself, pointing straight upwards. “Say hi, Clair.”

He wiggles the scarecrow's arm; it flops about like a dead fish. You shudder and smile weakly.

“Hi.”

“Yeah, and here's Pryce, and Jasmine, and Koga, and Gaven – he used to be an Ace Trainer on Route 26 – and Karen...” With each name, Falkner sets up another scarecrow, and you are forced to admit to yourself that there is no way this can be an act. He really has gone completely mad. Is there anyone else at all in his so-called 'group'? Can you trust a single thing he says? You're not sure. You only know that you want to pump him for information and get the hell out of here as soon as you possibly can. Eldritch Quilava is scary, but a mad Falkner with an axe and an Eldritch Pidgeot is even scarier. It's just... it's wrong, so horribly wrong, and it chills you to the bone.

You greet the scarecrows politely, and are fascinated (in a sick kind of way) to note that there's been some attention paid to details. The Pryce one has a walking stick nailed to its hand, for example, and a scarf around its neck. The Jasmine one has a bow on its chest. The Bruno one...

You stop yourself. This can't be healthy. Time to move on to another question and try to forget about the ring of fake survivors surrounding you.

“OK... Um, you mentioned something I was kind of confused about,” you say. “You said there have been a lot of me or something?”

Falkner gives you a look. Well, half a look, technically, but it has the same effect.

“You didn't find out already?”

“Find out what?”

He shakes his head.

“Everyone else figured it out long before they made it anywhere near Violet. Tell me,” he asks, “what's your mother's name?”

“What kind of a question is that?” you ask. “It's—”

You pause, mouth open.

“Well?” says Falkner, a sardonic grin on his lips. “We're waiting.”

“I... I must have forgotten,” you say, but the way your voice is shaking, you're really not convincing yourself. “I forgot a lot of stuff—”

“Forgot, or never knew?” asked Falkner. “You have nothing but the most superficial backstory, do you? Just enough to let you know what's going on in the world. Names of the Gym Leaders. Rough geography. The Teams.”

“That's enough,” you say sharply, but he doesn't stop.

“Let me tell you exactly what happened, probably... yesterday morning? Yeah, that'd be it. You came to your senses standing in the exact centre of your room, staring towards the south wall. All you knew for the moment was your name.”

“You were watching me,” you tell him. “You could've been spying on me easily enough—”

“Why would I bother?” asks Falkner, snorting. “I never even watch you unless you make it to Cherrygrove. Most of the time you don't even do that – the Cyndaquil gets you.” He takes a step towards you, and you realise for the first time just how much taller he is than you. He's grown since you last met – but hasn't the apocalypse only been going a few days? From the changes in Falkner, it seems more like years. “See, when all this began a switch got flipped somewhere,” he says. “A setting changed. It's no save and permadeath now. You try. You die. You have to start again. At least, that's how it is for you.” He laughs. His breath smells of petrol, and you wonder what he's been eating. “Us NPCs aren't so lucky. If we die, that's it. Game over.”

“I'm... I'm the player character,” you whisper softly. “Jesus Christ, I'm the player character.”

It would explain the voices. It would explain the way certain events don't seem to happen until you enter an area.

God. All this time and you thought you were just a regular NPC, like everyone else.

No, not all this time. Just a day. You are only a day old, you realise. You were named and spawned by the Players, just as someone else was before you until they died, and someone else before them, and someone else before them...

“There've been about six hundred of you,” Falkner continues matter-of-factly. “Most of them were you, but others were this girl who looks similar but has worse hair. I think the Players are trying to fix what went wrong, but judging by the precedent they've set...” He shrugged. “They're not doing so hot.”

The player character. Christ. As bombshells go, that's quite a big one.

Still.

Avatar of the freaking gods and all that.

Can't be all bad.

“OK,” you say slowly, taking a deep breath. “OK. So what happens, then? What happens to... me?”

“Mostly, the Cyndaquil gets you. When whatever it was happened, every Pokémon changed at once – mutated into the monsters you've seen around you. It was like the whole world reset: everyone was allocated a starter again. And just like before, the starters are stronger than most other Pokémon – you must have noticed, the Pokémon you've met other than the Cyndaquil have gone down pretty easily. But the starters... They're a tougher breed. Smarter, too. And they don't stay dead unless you really cut them up.” Falkner strokes his axe absently. “And they have a weird idea about following you, too: they hunt you down until either one of you dies or you smash them into submission.”

Falkner points out to where you know Jawson slumbers in the dark.

“He was mine. A Pidgey. Before everything changed, it was one of my team. Afterwards, it melted its way out of its ball and tried to eat my face.”

You nod wisely. You have had much experience of attempted face-eating.

“Had to use some pretty unorthodox training methods, but I got him in the end.” Falkner's hand traces his scar mechanically, without him noticing. “You've never managed to get the Cyndaquil, though. I can understand. He's a right bastard. I could beat mine to the floor, but that doesn't cut it when your enemy's on fire.”

“So, does New Bark Town, um, reset whenever I... spawn?”

Falkner nods.

“The Totodile, Chikorita and Cyndaquil disappear and respawn in the lab,” he says. “I watched it a few times – when I first figured out what you were, and still had some hope you might be able to accomplish something.”

Ouch. You have every intention of accomplishing lots, thank you very much, and if only you knew what exactly it was that you wanted to accomplish, you're pretty sure you could go ahead and accomplish it right now.

You decide to change the subject.

“Where's Red?”

Falkner shrugs.

“We'd all love to know that. God knows he'd be better at this than you. Unless he's already dead.”

OK, you're beginning to resent this attitude.

“Could we call him?” you ask. “I tried to battle him once, on Mt. Silver. He gave me his number.”

“Why would he even have a number?” asks Falkner, puzzled. “He's mute. It kind of renders telephone conversations pointless.”

Damn. You'd forgotten that.

“OK, could I call for help from Kanto, Sinnoh, Hoenn – anywhere?”

“You think we didn't try that?” Falkner points to a Pokégear on one of the scrap piles. “The network's still on, yes – I'm sure you've noticed how well-preserved everything is – but this happened all over the world. Simultaneously.” He shook his head. “Everyone's on their own now.”

You sigh. Well, so much for that. You didn't really think that would work, anyway.

“OK.” You look around. “Uh, what else... This is the Ilex Forest Shrine, right?”

Falkner nods.

“The forest's protector cleanses any taint,” he said. “I saw the light from the air when I was fleeing Violet City and landed here.” He looks at the shrine, a vague look of satisfaction on his face. “Celebi does all it can,” he tells you. “But it isn't enough to protect anything but the smallest part of the woods.”

“I see.” You point to the piles of supplies. “Do you need any of my stuff? I have lots.”

“If you're anything like the rest of you, your inventory is ninety per cent crap and ten per cent stuff that you can't give up because you'll die without it,” Falkner informs you. “You keep your stuff. Just don't take any of mine.”

He seems pretty philosophical about all this, now you come to consider it – though is that because he's mad? Actually, he seems quite tame for a madman. Although there is the possibility you haven't seen all of it yet. Perhaps he has recurrent episodes of tremendous uncontrollable violence.

Man, you have got to stop with all this wild conjecture. It keeps terrifying you, and you're almost certain it gives the Narrator ideas.

[Lopnis]

Wow Othodox the Pc Highest Teir you can get (Well besides us of course ) Anyway ask Falkner if he has any idea what to do next?
What is the longest one of your previous incarnations lasted?
Could he teach you his Training Methods?
Ask he has an extra Pokegear you could use to stay in contact just in case.