Apocalypse: 2.10 Burnout

Burnout 2.10

Shayne Hayes
September 2015

The mission was… not terrible. The first thing I noticed was that there was no time limit. Unlike my sole other dungeon experience, I could theoretically stay here forever. It was a relief, but ultimately not very helpful.

There was only so much supplies I brought with me. I had enough for my team and I, but the plan was never to pack everything. Every ranger knew to supplement his diet with forage where possible. Throw in Pierce, who most definitely had nothing, and this dungeon would sort itself out one way or another in a few days.

My team and I began walking. Rocket took the lead as always, nose to the ground and ears perky and alert. This being a giant hedge maze, we soon ran into a wall.

The hedge towered over us. It was green, so vibrant that it couldn’t have possibly been formed by human hands. Though it formed a clear, intentional boundary, there was a certain wildness about it that I couldn’t fully grasp. It was as if whoever formed this dungeon had not cut or trimmed the hedges, but coaxed them into growing in this ideal shape.

I tapped Scout. “Up. See if you can get us a bird’s eye view.”

“Tran,” he trilled. He took to the air and should have crested the top of the hedges in an instant. Instead, the hedges grew with his flight. When it became clear that this too was against the rules, he settled back on my shoulder. “Quil. Tranquil.”

“Yeah, I’ve gathered. I’m guessing cutting the bush isn’t allowed either?”

It was a rhetorical question, so the response surprised me. The RKS System popped up directly:

Do not despoil the King’s garden.

I huffed with mild amusement. “At least it’s telling me before I do it. This dungeon’s System might be nicer than the Reservoir’s.”

“Woop-Wooper,” Sir Swagsire croaked. He hopped out of my backpack and gestured to the walls. “Wooper-woop. Woo-Wooper.”

“Hmm… You’re right, Swagsire. The walls aren’t coming down. Actually, the hedges are thicker where Scout made them grow so maybe they can’t come down because there’s no more room.”

“Woop. Wooper-woop.”

“Which means we can use this. It’s a permanent change to the maze we can make without harming the hedges. Scout, fly above my head. We’ll easily be able to make our way back if the places we’ve been are shaded.”

“Tran,” Scout chirped before taking to the air again.

“Good idea, Swagsire.”

“Woop.”

Feeling a lot better about heading into an unknown maze, we proceeded onward. As we walked, I thought more about the king and this mission. Obviously, the king was a grass type, but what kind of tribute could he want?

The fountain had to be a clue. A king and his two… steeds? A human would obviously ride the horses, but that wasn’t to say a pokemon would do the same. He wouldn’t need two steeds, surely. This could be a Chronicles of Narnia situation, with talking animals that served as royal advisors.

One thing I was sure of was that the tribute could fit inside the bowl. It was clearly meant to be an offering bowl of some kind. And seeing how the king was a grass pokemon, maybe… soil? Or water?

Neither of those things sounded right. If that was the case, there would be no need to brave the maze at all. The water could easily just be scooped with the bowl from the fountain.

I froze. Had I skipped a major clue? Was the water the hint? Were we supposed to offer water to the king and receive the “blessing of the earth” that’d make navigating the maze earlier?

I startled when Rocket nudged my shin. “Sorry, I’m just thinking.”

“Oone,” he growled reproachfully.

I told them my thoughts and my team looked at me like I was an idiot. It took me a moment, but they were right. The whole point of the mission was to find appropriate tribute for the king.

“I’m tripping,” I muttered. I hated puzzles like this. I’d never been good at riddles and they always made me second guess myself.

I flipped through the photos. They were only of decent quality, but that was all I needed to notice more details.

For starters, the two horses were very different. The specifics were hard to discern because they were made from marble, but one very clearly had a rigid mane. It stuck out in all directions, more like triangular plates of bone or stone than hair. I tentatively marked this unknown pokemon as a rock type.

The second horse was the opposite. Where the first was all hard lines and edges, this one was smooth curves and drooping hair. Given the way its mane seemed to flow to its ankles, I marked this as a water type.

This seemed accurate…? Water and soil to nourish life… right? That sounded like the kind of association Pokemon as a series liked to make.

“We’re going to look for spring water,” I told my team. Maybe the water and soil around the fountain weren’t good enough for tribute after all. “Keep an eye out for special springs, or maybe rare soil types. Especially you, Swagsire. You probably have a better shot of noticing that kind of thing.”

X

We found Pierce fairly quickly. He was running with a red, sentient cherry in his arms. Nipping at his ankles were three paras, crab-like pokemon with two, small mushrooms growing on their backs. They were grass and bug types, though the dex had some disturbing things to say about them.

Pierce was a ginger boy who kept his hair in a sloppy buzzcut. He had more freckles than clear skin on his face. He wasn’t fat, but he was on the chunkier side. With snot and tears dribbling down his face and screaming bloody murder, it would have been weirder had we missed him.

“Well, I guess that’s our first objective cleared,” I said dryly. I held out my new, heavier crossbow and took aim. “Scout, help him, please.”

“Tranquil,” the pheasant pokemon trilled. He swooped down with a crooning warcry that probably sounded much more intimidating to a bug type.

Circular sawblades of compressed air spun out from his wings. They struck two paras, smashing them into the ground and grinding away at their chitinous carapaces. Seeing this, I took a shot at the rear paras.

My bolt struck true. It nailed the bug pokemon from above, making it release a sharp, chirping screech as the force of the bolt halted its charge. I had no idea a paras could scream. The dex said the mushrooms parasitized them, which made them something similar to zombies.

Clearly not. On some level, the paras were alive, not just mindless hosts for the mushrooms. It made me wonder if there was such a thing as an un-parasitized paras. Or, given that paras evolved and actively became stronger, was it a form of mutualism?

Either way, it wasn’t dead. It jumped for Pierce’s back, pincers grasping erratically. It was far faster than I’d expected and managed to claw the boy across the back, leaving a deep, red gash and tearing his shirt.

“Gaah!” he screamed as he tumbled past me.

Rocket jumped up to intercept any further attacks as I caught him. My murder-scarf’s claws made short work of the paras.

Three down, I looked around for any other threats. There was a cherubi in Pierce’s arms, which I dismissed for now. Its secondary ball had a tear in it and it was leaking juices so I assumed it had been helping Pierce.

“S-Shane?” he stammered. He fell to his knees, his body finally giving up. “It’s you!”

“Who else would it be?”

“I… It hurts…”

“Come on, turn around. I’ve got disinfectant in my backpack.”

I spun him around and had him take off his shirt. The cut wasn’t too bad, about a quarter of an inch deep and five inches long. We’d gotten here just in time.

I quickly disinfected it and slapped a bandage on top. He’d be tender, but it could have been much worse.

I looked at the oversized maraschino, then at Pierce. “Well, I don’t know if I should be impressed or disappointed with you.”

“H-Huh? Cherubi is a good pokemon, Shane!”

“Not that, dingus. I mean that somehow, you managed to befriend a pokemon…”

“That’s good, right?”

I nodded to the three bug types. They curled up like spiders now that they’d died. “And made enemies of three more. You’re three for four on picking fights with pokemon, kid.”

“T-That’s not my fault. They just attacked us out of nowhere.”

“Maybe. Either way, good job holding out until I got here. You did good.”

“I… Really?”

“You sound disappointed,” I snorted. The bodies of the paras did not dissolve. Rather, they were absorbed into the soil as I watched, almost as if decomposition happened in fast forward. They left behind two, orange-red mushrooms each. “Did you want me to scold you?”

“I mean… No, but I thought you would…” he trailed off. Slowly, he picked himself up from the ground. “I… I thought I was going to die.”

“You were,” I replied bluntly. No use sugarcoating it.

“Jose… He’s dead, isn’t he?”

“He is.”

“W-What about Dennis? Elijah?” he asked morosely, afraid of the answer.

“They’re fine. We killed the ariados and dragged them back to town. They were bitten, but I’m pretty sure it was with a paralytic.”

“Oh, that’s good.”

“Which leaves you. How did you end up here?”

“I got chased by some poochyena. I didn’t see anything else I could do, so I jumped in.”

I stared at him like he was an idiot. He could have climbed a tree. Sure, there might be a pokemon up there too, but he didn’t know that. A whole-ass dungeon was surely more likely to kill him than a single, random tree.

“You could have–No, you know what? Now’s not the time,” I kept myself from lecturing him. I yanked him to his feet and nudged him back towards the entrance. “Come on. We’re going back to the fountain.”

“We can go home?” he asked hopefully.

“Probably not. The Gate is out there on the other side, but I didn’t see an exit when I came in. Looks like we either complete the mission and find whatever this ‘tribute’ is, or we die in here.”

“That’s… That’s not good. We have food, right?”

I picked up the mushrooms and set them in a plastic bag. They may or may not be poisonous, but I’d find a use for them either way. “Not really. I didn’t think you’d dive into a dungeon and didn’t have time to get reinforcements or resupplied, so I have food for… two days…? Maybe…?”

“O-Oh… I’m sorry…”

“Eh, chin up, Pierce. We aren’t dead yet.”

We headed back to the fountain. Pierce desperately needed to get some rest and I wasn’t sure I trusted the hedges around me. Grass type dungeon meant pokemon who could blend in seamlessly with our surroundings, or maybe even do that tree-melding thing druids did sometimes.

Nope, all the fucking nope. At least next to the fountain, we’d be able to see them coming.

We settled near the statue. Pierce wanted to crash right away but I forced him to eat a can of baked beans. It wasn’t exactly a hearty meal, but it was better than nothing. Soon, he was snoring away with his head against my backpack. Next to him, Scout settled in for the evening as well.

Rocket, Sir Swagsire, and I watched over the two of them. The dimming sun cast orange light over the fountain. Like this, it almost seemed like the giant bulb on the king’s horns was a kind of crown. Or maybe it wasn’t? Maybe we had to make him a flower crown like the wreath around his neck?

It is the height of hubris for a pauper to anoint the king.

I snorted at the message. “Gee, I know I’m poor, thanks.”

Still, I paused to consider that statement.

Hubris? A pauper? This dungeon’s System was very different from the one at the Stampede Reservoir. Not only was it more willing to speak to me or warn me away from certain courses of action, it almost didn’t seem to consider me a challenger.

In the Reservoir, that was what I was. It never called me “challenger,” but the implication was there: I stepped inside, the System gave me my mission, and punished me when I tried to spoof the System.

Here, I was a “pauper.” The central figure of the statue was the “king.” In fact, this entire labyrinth was the garden of the “King of Bountiful Harvests.”

It was a fundamental shift in perspective. I wasn’t sure what it meant exactly, but I couldn’t help but feel that this dungeon had a very different personality.

X

The next morning, I got the full story from Pierce’s perspective. He’d entered the dungeon and drank from the fountain. Seeing how he was mostly fine, I refilled my own water bottle there as well.

He then wandered around looking for a tribute until he found a cherubi being chased by the three paras. He received another notification from the System to eliminate the enemies of the king’s garden.

“Okay, rule one,” I said, a little exasperated. “Remember what the System says, word for word. Write it down if you can’t.”

“I lost my notebook with my backpack,” he mumbled sheepishly.

“I know. Next time, Pierce. At least we know that the dungeon isn’t going to kill us for the paras.”

“Y-Yeah, got it. So… What now?”

“Now we go look for that tribute. First things first,” I took out the mushrooms I looted from the paras and held it out to the four pokemon. “These things. Are these edible?”

Rocket and Swagsire nodded. Scout looked mildly disgusted, but nodded reluctantly. The cherubi shook its head emphatically. Three yes, one no.

“Good. Are these edible for humans?”

Four shrugs. How the hell would they know?

“How about as tribute?” This time, I asked the cherubi directly. “Do you think the King of Bountiful Harvests would want this?”

“Cher, cherubi-ru!” it shook its head even more vigorously.

“S-She says that’s not right,” Pierce chimed in. “It’s… about what comes out of the ground…”

“Cher.”

“Oh, so the ‘bountiful harvests’ thing is literal. That sounds right… right?”

“It does,” I agreed. “Trouble is, we haven’t found anything that could be considered a harvest.”

We packed up our camp and headed into the labyrinth once more. Fortunately, it was easy to tell where we’d been already. The hedges that Scout had raised had not gone back down overnight as I’d feared so we could navigate our way back if nothing else.

Walking through the shade was quite nice. I’d given Pierce my spare handgun. He was maybe the least suited for this sort of thing out of all the kids in Carnelian Bay, but it was better than nothing. He at least knew to keep the safety off for the moment.

Eventually, we arrived at where we’d been yesterday. Other than the lingering scent of Pierce’s blood and the paras Rocket picked up, there was nothing here to suggest there had been any kind of struggle. 

Here, the path widened into a spacious crossroad. There were three more paths, each identical to the others.

“This wasn’t here yesterday,” I muttered.

“Great, the maze changes,” Pierce groaned.

“Kinda. The shaded area we traveled through didn’t change at all. Right? Rocket? Scout?”

“Lin.”

“Tran.”

“See? All three of us remember the path we took and Rocket’s scent trail hadn’t gone away, either.”

“So… The maze stops changing when we move through it? Like, like locking in a path.”

“That could be it. I don’t see why it really matters if we haven’t been there yet. Then again… Hey, cherubi, do you know what would be a good tribute for the king?”

“Cher?” it, she, tilted her head. She eventually nudged Pierce towards the left path. “Cher.”

Pierce blinked in confusion. “We’re just going to ask her?”

“Why not?” I asked. “She’s taken a liking to you and who better to ask than a local?”

“I guess. This should make life easier, right?”

“Maybe. We’ll find out.”

X

We walked for a few more hours. There were several more crossroads. Each time, the cherubi pointed and we followed her lead. It made me nervous, but it wasn’t like I had any better ideas.

We stopped for lunch at a small, circular nook in the hedges. There were benches and a stone table set aside, as if this was a true garden. Like this, I could almost pretend we were on a picnic rather than a potentially life-threatening mission.

Here, I had Rocket dig a hole for the cherubi. Apparently, she was happy to derive nutrition from the soil, not unlike the oddish we had. She also glowed a bit, drawing in sunlight. As I watched, the small tear in her ball healed over. It had to be either Synthesis or Morning Sun, maybe the most convenient move in the world.

Once again, I couldn’t help but notice how damn convenient grass types were. In the games, they were always depicted as one of the worst types thanks to their myriad weaknesses. But here, when battling wasn’t the sole focus, it was a very different story.

We continued on for several more hours. It wasn’t lost on me that wherever we were going, we’d have to trek back to the fountain to make the offering. Meaning, if we ate all our food now, the trip home would be fucking miserable.

The hedges widened into a small clearing. Here, we were greeted by more pokemon. Except, unlike the three paras, each were fully evolved. That was reason enough for me to be cautious. Evolution wasn’t everything, but there were seven of them, more than enough to turn us into fertilizer.

I counted four bellossom, two maractus, and a single lilligant that stood in the center of their formation. They spun in circles, chanting in an oddly rhythmic pattern. The cactus-like arms of the maractus rattled in set patterns. They were singing, though I didn’t know what about.

Then, the singing came to a stop. The lilligant noticed us. Her leafy arm extended towards us in an open question. “Lilli? Lilligant?”

“Keep your gun down,” I told him Pierce. The last thing I needed was him getting jumpy. “We’re not going to pick this fight if we can help it.”

“Got it,” he muttered back.

I stepped forward with Rocket. “Scout, to me.”

“Tran, tranquil,” he chirped, settling down on my shoulder. This way, the grass pokemon wouldn’t be shaded out when the hedges rose to block his flight.

“Hello,” I began, crossbow aimed down.

I wasn’t really sure how to go about talking to these things. I’d had some luck negotiating with wooper back in the Stampede Reservoir Dungeon, but those guys had come to me. They were hungry, ate some berries, and had been kind enough to barf up the seeds. I didn’t really have anything to bribe these grass types with.

The lilligant tilted her head curiously. If I remembered right, the entire species was female-only, though the bellossom could be of mixed genders.

“Lilli-lilligant. Lilli~” she crooned. It sounded lovely, like a refreshing spring breeze. She stepped forward, leaving her friends behind. Then, she spun in a circle before sinking into a curtsy. “Lilli Gant~”

“Lin,” Rocket growled. ‘Linoone-lin.”

“Gant. Lilli.”

“Linoone.”

“Lilligant.”

“What are they saying?” Pierce whispered.

I shrugged. “I’m not sure. I can mostly understand Rocket, but she’s harder. She doesn’t look like she wants to fight though.”

Seeing that we did not understand, she rose from her curtsy and began to dance. Each sway was almost hypnotic. Though she was the size of a child, she had the grace of a ballerina.

Then, halfway through a pirouette, she held out a hand. “Lilli~”

That couldn’t be misunderstood. “She wants us to dance with her.”

“I-I can’t dance,” Pierce whispered, aghast. Funny enough, he sounded just as horrified by the prospect as when he was being chased by the paras.

“Cherubi, is the tribute past them?”

“Cher,” the little, cherry-like pokemon nodded.

“Well, that’s our answer then. Come on, it’s either this or trying to muscle our way through.”

‘Fuck my life… I’m going to look like an idiot.”

“Too late, kid. Your dignity died when you decided to get drunk in the woods.”

So, we danced. My pokemon, traitors that they were, settled down to watch the show.

At first, we did what we knew to do. I felt a bit like we were at a middle school dance, where everyone just kinda shimmied like sardines to 2000s-era pop music. Pierce tried doing the robot. I tried and failed to moonwalk. The grass types burst out laughing. 

“We’re being laughed at, aren’t we?” Pierce grumbled.

“Yup.” I didn’t need a translator to know that much.

“Lilli! Lilligant!” our host gasped. Her leafy hands caressed her face as if she was looking at a trainwreck. She then came over and stood next to us. “Lilligant!”

“Copy you?”

“Lil.”

“Alright, fine. Show us how to dance, lilligant.”

She did. It was a swaying, delicate thing. Not necessarily fast or complex, but each motion carried an intentionality that I’d never experienced before. She went between us, nudging our feet or hips to move just the right way. And when she didn’t like something, she gave us the saddest, most disappointed pout I’d ever seen on a pokemon.

An hour? Three? We did get to rest between, but she absolutely refused to let us pass unless we could copy her routine to her satisfaction. By the second hour, I almost would have preferred a battle. At least then, our deaths would have been quick.

We moved on that evening, tired and hoping that knowing how to poke-boogie would come in handy one day. At least our pokemon got plenty of rest.

Author’s Note

Still not sure how I feel about this. This dungeon’s kicking my ass, lol. Still, I didn't think it'd get better if I held on to it so here it is.

Shane thinks Glastrier and Spectrier are rock and water types respectively. It’s not a bad association to make, certainly makes more sense than ice and ghost unless you have the Crown Tundra context.

The maze changes because there were several grass type encounters I workshopped. Trying to muscle through seven pokemon wouldn’t be a good idea, even with Scout having a type advantage. 

Animal Fact: Elephant trunks contain around 40,000 muscles. For comparison, the entire human body has anywhere between 640 to 840 muscles. Human anatomists will give you different answers depending on how they count distinct muscles, especially since some have multiple parts.