------Honey Woods is not a 'mystery dungeon' by definition, but it is noted with a precariousness among the Guild confederation due to the fussy, factional politics surrounding it, the plethora of
ferals within it -- here, however, they tend to keep to themselves until provoked. Any discord here is less than other dungeons; it is recommended to most rookies for its linearity. It is a beeline from one entrance to another, the gates of the Combee Hive Village, the culmination of interweaving dirt paths, lined with hollows and overgrowth. Here, the trees stand tall, awash in a breeze, waving discretion:
'Stay away, stay away.' Sunlight gasps between the thorn-like fingers of a strangling canopy.
------At the moment, a crowd of Heracross have slung colored paste across their faces and freshly-gained gallons of 'liquid gold' over their shoulders as they book it into the thick of the woodland. Their wings beat in unison -- the head of the swarm, streaked in yellow bonguri, fires a Round off the peak of the combined cacophony, prompting an explosion of branches and undergrowth.
------The ferals of the forest rush to find cover.
------The ultrasonic barks of the leader Heracross carries across the swarm: "B-LEFT, R-RIGHT, GO, GO, GO."
------From the treetops, thorns bombard on the parting crowd. The Bugs scatter, as they had planned, successfully. Those sticks only stick into the ground, dejected.
------"Dammit! Gahdammit!" goes an angry lisp. The Paras positioned in the tree has lost a lot of upper hands in that moment.
------She turns to the little, hopeful sunlight leaking through the canopy, and an incomparable glowing patch alights between her claw.
------"You asshole," Chika mutters. "There's
eight of 'em. You better be the gahdamn bess veteran ever."
------There is movement in the neighboring tree -- a slight
bzz-bzz? Through the pines, a lookout peers to confirm that this gleam is that of an official exploration badge.
------The bright-red Paras glares.
"What?"
------And the Heracross seizes up, staring back, her own objective fresh in her mind, and the reality of what is staring back. She recognizes a lack of confidence on her part, that the reassurance of a Pokemon like that not
possibly being able to confront her from over
there… it is derived from fear. And the confidence that allows this Pokemon to look back, to measure the Heracross' pint size, the flayed "butterfly" shape of her horn -- to know that even they could take her.
------This is stalled, of course. Chika has already skittered her way from branch to branch.
------The closeness of the trees… The Heracross realizes too late, the closeness of the Paras.
------Chika closes the gap and lashes out with a claw.
------The lookout feels it scrape her exoskeleton; she grunts and shudders and stumbles back and manages to retaliate with a swing of her armored arm.
------Clink. It bounces off. Bewilderingly, the Paras stands her ground. Now, her claw is drawn against her face, and her expression is that of concentration.
------The lookout's own veneer spells the gradual spinning of gears.
------"Heh." The explorer launches herself like a bullet. The force of Heracross' hit comes back twice as hard, and she is sent soaring from the tree.
------Soaring… Wings! She snaps her open, just in time, her legs kicking up twigs and grime as she slows herself and settles.
------The Paras' battle cry is
wild, and she launches herself onto the enemy, taking that moment of reorientation to land on her head.
------The bellowing lookout writes and bucks in protest.
------Chika wraps her claws around the Heracross' horn. She hisses indiscernibly and jabs her little legs down into the Heracross' face, nearly dashing her eye before the beetle can summon a single desperate heave, bumping the Paras off and onto her back.
------"Fuck you!" The Paras pushes a claw into the earth, pulls herself up.
------The Heracross faces her, backing up, cautious.
Hmm-hmm go her wings, half-drawn against her carapace.
------Chika lunges, her pounce missing, the lookout whipping around to storm into the trees. But as her wings begin to blur, she feels a force behind her, like a rope has been tied to some point between her shoulder blades, and she barely manages a foot ahead in her escape without being dragged back again.
------There is a tug-o'-war between the Heracross, struggling to fly, and the Paras, wrestling with an emerald aura surrounding herself, and less apparently, her target. Her vision is blurred by vibrancy when she uses this move. Even still, Chika is able to slink forward, to distinguish the cobalt color blurred beneath the glow. She raises a claw; she is ready to pin at least one of them, and to succeed in some part, any part.
------"ELYTRA."
------What buzzing-- no, the leader?
------...The impact was silent. She felt it first, and then she was helpless after. Pure Herculean strength channeled into a terrible blindside, one punch catapulting the Paras away, away, away. She screams, tumbling over herself through air, crashing through fen, smashing into the ground like a meteor striking earth.
------In the distance: "ELYTRA, YOU OKAY?"
------She can barely make the figures out, the entoptic colors from staring at pure light dancing all around her in her vision. She cannot give up, though. This is her first mission, though.
------Chika struggles to stand --
Crack -- stops.
------The Heracross turn, stare.
------"FUCK, ELYTRA. WHAT DID YOU DO?"
------"MMM... THAT WAS
YOU…"
------Oh, so they knew?
------A fragile covering of leafs and twigs collapses from beneath her and with a screech she is sent spiraling down, down, into the mystery dungeon.
HONEY TUNNEL
B1F
