Rapture and Requiem: An X Nuzlocke
I started this story sometime ago, but have decided to rewrite it and, you know, finish it. We'll see where it goes.
This is not a sequel to Locke and Key, and in fact takes place in an alternate world. :) It is, however, still a Nuzlocke.
Ruleset.
1. You can only catch the first Pokemon you encounter on each route.
1a. You may accept gift Pokemon, but may only use them if you don't have a full party.
2. If a Pokemon faints, you must permanently box it.
3. Mega Evolution is allowed.
4. Exp All can't be turned on until after Route 8.
I. Beast
Fancy thinking the Beast was something you could hunt and kill! You knew, didn't you? I'm part of you?
- William Golding, Lord of the Flies
Kalos, supposedly, had once been known for its lush greenery; wiping sweat from her brow, Alena fervently wished she could have been born a thousand years prior. Legend had it that the climate had been temperate, that rains came on the regular to nourish the earth, that happiness hadn't been a myth.
If wishes were fishes. Her aunt Cory's voice clucked in her mind.
She rose, straightening her back and glancing at the sparse shrubbery around her. There was a small glen just north of Aquacorde; the trees were skeletal but ancient, their roots refusing to give up their eternal struggle. She rarely dared to enter it, particularly so late in the day, but her vegetable garden's yield was pitiful.
The thinned and shadowy excuse for a forest was as far as Alena had ever traveled; beyond it lay plains, and true deserts, and mountains, and, worse, the beasts who called the hostile terrain home.
Rumor had it, though, that those same beasts prowled these skeletal woods, particularly when the sun had set and the shadows deepened…
Oh, stop it, she told herself, feeling a chill raise the skin on her arms. Just get a decent collection started and get out of here.
But she couldn't help but look behind her every two steps. Just thinking about the Pokemon threatening her existence was making her uneasy. Had she ever seen one? Well—not that she could recall, of course, but the people of Aquacorde were adamant about their dangerousness, about their hunger for human flesh, and Alena had no choice but to believe them.
She balanced her basket on her hips, frowning. Roots with soil still clinging to their wrinkled skins; berries too unripe for flying Pokemon; vegetables days before rot. Her stomach clenched just thinking about the fight ahead. Well, it can't be helped. Still better than nothing at all, I s'pose.
That's when she heard the hefty crack! of a twig behind her. A branch. She stiffened.
"Who's there?" she called, whirling around; her skirt swished about her ankles, the telltale noise of a naïve human girl out after dark.
It's not after—but it was. She tilted her face toward the sky, amazed at how quickly the sun had set, how quickly the sky had purpled.
"Hello?" she called, her nervousness escalating. "Tim, is that you? I told you not to be spyin' on me anymore, and if you think for one second I won't tell your mama—" she backed up. Her hair snared in a tree branch, tearing it free of its tight braid. "Damn it!"
Tim was twelve and a timid boy; his mother kept a close eye on him after the sun had set, and even if she didn't, he'd never dare be outside this late, this dark.
Alena, a girl of sixteen, had proved to be less intelligent. She freed her hair and began a brisk walk toward the well-worn path that would take her through Aquacorde and back to her own hometown, the quaint village of Vaniville. Her aunt Cory would be waiting, the tea on, the tip of her cigarette burning through the violet dusk. She'd laugh at Alena's meager offering and swat her playfully for being out too late—or not playfully. Alena didn't care at this point.
"Where you headed with that, eh?"
She halted, dust skidding up around her heavy boots. The voice was raspy. Close to human, close to friendly, but not quite, not quite. "Who's there?" she said.
It came from a pile of brush dyed the color of fire from sun exposure; its eyes were hot and red like banked coals. Slivers of broken glass for teeth, a fearsome wolf with a black pelt and bone for armor.
"Surprise," it said, and Alena was so startled to hear it speak that she dropped her basket. Near-rotted vegetables spilled across the ground. "A bit scrawny, but I'm not picky anymore." It bared its teeth at her again in a predatory smile.
She turned and ran.
The second she broke into a run, the thing behind her gave a yip of excitement and began the chase.
What was I thinking—damn it, damn it, damn it! Where did this thing come from? Has it always been livin' here? Why didn't anyone warn me? How does anyone let their kids come out here?
If it catches me, I'm done for. That'll be it. Dead out here in the forest, all by myself. The thought quickened her, until finally her boot-clad foot caught a tree root and sent her flying. Her hair spun out around her, a pale, tangled mass filled with twigs.
Her face slammed, hard, against the forest floor. The smell of moss, rotting leaves, and blood filled the air. Blood? She reached up, touched her face, and found it gushing from her nose.
That's when she realized her mistake.
No, no… it can smell blood, can't it?
She rolled onto her side painfully. Her heart thudded.Where is it… where is it at?
There—a flash of black, red, white!
She lifted herself onto her knees, but it was too late. It had her down, pinned to the dust in fear; it had her exactly where it wanted her.
Alena could make out the furious amber glow of its eyes, the red maw and feet, the look of stark hunger. Its ribs showed beneath a patchy black coat. An exoskeleton of sorts covered the outside of its joints in white bone.
"Meatbags like yourself should keep to your own territories," it said in that garbled voice. How could it speak their language, how? Alena dragged herself backwards, away from that horrible doglike face and those flashing teeth. "You trespass, you're fair game. Thought you all knew that. Not my fault you decided to break the rules, though." It advanced slowly. "I haven't eaten so well… in a long time."
What rules, what rules? Her mind searched for a treaty of some sort, but she blanked. Why would the people of Aquacorde make a treaty with monsters, with flesh-eaters? They wouldn't. It was mocking her.
Its muzzle, open wide now, began to leak smoke. She could smell it, that gritty, thick smell that stank of impending death. Her heart skipped several beats; she could swear that the world began to spin, that her stomach had dropped clean through her body and splattered on the ground between her legs.
Fire. This thing breathes fire. She clawed the earth in a desperate attempt to get away; its smoking mouth widened, the teeth began to glow in the scattered light of its embers. Please, god, I learned my lesson, I know better now, oh please, oh please god—
"Get out of the way!"
She turned, the taste of vomit in her mouth, in blank surprise. There was no one there. Or—wait? Another of the beasts, smaller, golden-colored, its ears feathered and enormous. It rushed by her, its wind static-filled, and burst against the hound's flank.
The doglike monster sank its teeth into the fox's shoulder; it retaliated by spitting tiny snaking flames right into its eyes.
Alena threw up everything in her stomach, the fear like a cold knife in her belly. What is going on? Oh, god, save me, save me. She lurched to her feet, leaning against the bristly trunk of a tree for support. Her knees threatened to give. What did I do to deserve getting caught in this?
"Thought you knew better than to get in my business, Fennekin," the dog spat in its gravelly low voice.
When the fox responded, it was sharper and clearer to Alena's ears. "Pretty high and mighty for someone who looks like garbage."
It turned to look at Alena; its eyes, too, were red, but they were urgent, angry. "What are you waiting for, you idiot? Get the hell out of here!"
Don't need to tell me twice. Alena stumbled away from the tree, panic buzzing in her ears. She merged on the path that took her through Aquacorde, thinking of the human speech spilling out of the mouths of monsters, thinking of fire searing the night air, thinking of broken teeth and black smoke.
The smell chased her home, into the worried arms of her aunt, who clutched her sobbing niece with confusion.
Although the day had been hot and unmerciful as ever, the people of Lumiose had begun to place their bets on a rainshower. Indeed, the sky had grayed continuously throughout the day, and now that blackened, thickened, congealed against the stars and the moon.
Dr. Augustine Sycamore leaned against his windowsill, letting the rain-scented wind tousle his hair, his lab coat, the papers stacked on his desk.
Maybe the rain will settle the dust, settle the drifters. He straightened, cracked his back. It'd been a long day, but they all were these days; Sycamore hadn't bothered with intensive research for many years, but now that he'd caught that old wind again, he couldn't stop. The books piled near his door, threatening the proximity of his ceiling; his research notes spilled from tattered notebooks, the handwriting almost twelve years old.
I hadn't dared to hope that Kalos was not doomed, he thought, closing his eyes. Rain collected on his eyelids, his eyelashes. I don't believe in omens, but this has to mean something. Wash the sins of man away, drench us all in salvation.
He thought of a drifter, a mere boy of sixteen, collecting water on his dust-resistant coat, tilting his face to the sky like a thirsty desert flower.
Come on, Calem. Get to Vaniville. I've got a lot at stake here. We all do.