Chapter 10: The Council of Polunk
On a tall hill overlooking the center of Polunk Village, an Absol stood alone among a grove of trees, staring out over the nearby houses and the rocky fields that stretched out beyond them. Glancing toward the southeast, where the road came out of the surrounding forest and into town, she briefly spotted the silhouettes of a group of Pokémon approaching. For a moment, she felt an odd sensation through her horn; this quickly changed into a sharp pain, causing her to flinch and grit her teeth. This feeling was nothing new for her, of course—like all others of her kind, she would occasionally have visions of oncoming disasters, and hers in particular usually began like this. This time, however, something seemed different. The pain was worse, hanging around for far longer than the brief spike that came with the warning of an earthquake or a particularly nasty outbreak of disease. She was almost unable to stay on her feet, but she forced herself to remain upright until the pain passed and the visions themselves began.
When they came, they came almost too quickly to comprehend. She saw the branches of a tree pulsing with a strange energy, not resembling any kind that she had ever encountered before. Waves of this energy spread across the land, visibly at first but quickly blending in with the ambient light as they extended further and further from their source. She saw thousands upon thousands of Pokémon—no, it was worse, entire species of Pokémon—massed together in huge crowds, all moving strangely and speaking in unison. In some of the brief flashes of the future, the world seemed to have found a lasting peace unlike any that it had seen in centuries; in others, Pokémon of many different species were constantly at war, sometimes even with those who had once been their closest friends and allies. The Absol had difficulty imagining what sort of event would cause these two polar opposites to play out at the same time. Whatever disaster now approached was not something as simple and short-lived as an earthquake or a plague; this was something on a far greater scale.
Just a few minutes later, the investigation team reached the outskirts of Polunk, passing by the first few old huts and heading toward the center of town. Fatheade had un-crumpled the village elder's letter and was now taking careful note of the directions that the old Lucario had left for them, which would lead them directly toward his residence. Polunk wasn't an especially large village, so before long they had arrived at their destination—an old house built at the top of a small hill, with a set of stone steps leading up to its front door. As they headed up the staircase they passed under the branches of trees whose leaves had changed to various reds and oranges; glancing out to either side, they spotted the remnants of gardens that had been harvested weeks before their arrival—plots of empty dirt, strewn with the dried-out stalks of the plants that had once grown there and the occasional rotten piece of fruit. Before long, they had cleared the stairs and were standing on Elder Lukhan's doorstep.
"Well," Fatheade said, adjusting his hat slightly, "Looks like we made it."
Varney flapped over to the door and lifted the metal knocker with his mouth, letting it drop against the door with a loud wooden sound which undoubtedly echoed far into the house and let its inhabitants know that visitors had arrived. A minute or two passed before footsteps could be heard from the other side; the door swung open to reveal a Hitmonchan, dressed up like a butler, who bowed slightly before stepping to the side and waving them inside.
"You must be the investigation team Elder Lukhan requested," he said, watching as the group filtered through the door in single file. "Fatheade DeStaav and company, correct?"
Fatheade paused for a moment, almost in shock that someone had actually pronounced his name correctly on the first try, and then smiled slightly and nodded toward the butler before continuing down the hallway. As the last of the group passed through the doorway, the Hitmonchan closed the door behind them and followed, directing them to the room where Lukhan was waiting. Rushing ahead for a moment to open this door for them, the butler stepped aside and ushered them in before walking off to return to his usual duties.
The investigators walked into the room they had been led to, glancing around and finding that the ancient Lucario was not the only one present there—sitting alongside him around an old wooden table were two other Pokémon, each of them also having the same look of age and experience that the blind Lucario possessed. A Ninetales sat on a cushion on the floor to Lukhan's right, her tails curled up around her; to the town elder's left was an Umbreon, also sitting upright on another cushion placed on the floor. Though his eyes were sightless and covered by a headband, it was the Lucario who turned to face the newcomers first, picking up on their presence using his highly-advanced aura sense.
"Ah, welcome," he said, causing the two at his sides to turn toward the door as well. "You must be the DeStaav Pokémon Investigation Bureau."
Fatheade nodded.
"That's right. And I'm guessin' you're Elder Lukhan, huh?"
"Indeed. I suppose you remember why I called you here," he said, "So I'll get right to the point. I know you've only just arrived here in Polunk, but… do you have any thoughts as to the identity of the creature responsible for these attacks?"
Fatheade sat his backpack aside and opened it up, rooting around in it for a few moments before producing a small notebook. He then stepped forward and hopped up onto an empty chair at the end of the table, going over his notes on the subject as the elder had asked.
"Well, just goin' by what ya mentioned in the letter… this thing seemed like it wasn't too keen on the idea of a fair fight, always sneakin' up on people. I'd have to guess it couldn't take a hit as well as it could dish 'em out."
He flipped to the next page before continuing.
"But then there's the way it shrugged off a Dragon Pulse without too much trouble… only one type o' Pokémon that takes Dragon-type attacks that well. So I'm guessin' the thing's a Steel-type."
The old Lucario sighed.
"Normally, that would be a logical guess," he mumbled. "However… this mystery attacker did not merely resist the attack. It was completely unaffected."
The Umbreon's ears perked up and the Ninetales widened her eyes slightly at this revelation; apparently, even Polunk's other elders had not been informed of this detail before this point. Fatheade just sat in stunned silence for a moment, trying to process what had just been said. What kind of creature would be outright immune to a Dragon Pulse? It just didn't make sense.
"You young ones may not yet know the reasons why," the Ninetales spoke up for the first time, glancing past Fatheade and looking back toward where Ed, Varney, and Lopendra were standing. "But the idea of something being entirely unharmed by such an attack is… very troubling."
The Umbreon nodded.
"All life in this world contains a certain type of energy," he explained. "All known Pokémon use this energy to power their attacks, at least to some extent… but what makes Dragon-type attacks unique is that they draw upon it directly, in its purest form."
"The name 'Dragon' is a bit of a misnomer," Lukhan added. "In years long past, this energy was thought to be holy, and known by some as the 'dragon pulse'… the attack and the type itself take their names from this term. What defines a 'Dragon-type' Pokémon is not any of their physical features, but simply that they contain much higher degrees of this energy than Pokémon of all other types."
"This is also the reason why Dragon-types are more vulnerable to attacks of their own type," the Ninetales added. "This energy is equally damaging to most Pokémon because they contain equal levels of it within them. As Dragon-types contain more within them… their energy can overload if suddenly exposed to more from outside, causing them to rapidly grow exhausted."
There was a pause as Lukhan took a slow sip from a small cup of tea in front of him. Fatheade took this opportunity to jot down as many notes as possible, filling another page of his notepad at a rapid pace. Before too long, the Umbreon sitting at the elder's left spoke up again.
"Along the same lines… Steel-types resist Dragon-type attacks because the metallic parts of their body do not hold onto this energy as well as organic matter."
Lukhan sat down his tea and nodded.
"Indeed. And that leads to why this is such disturbing news. The only way for an entity to be completely immune to such an attack would be for it to be a form of life that is completely devoid of the 'dragon pulse' that all Pokémon share."
He paused for a moment, taking another sip of tea, and then continued.
"So what we are dealing with here… is not of this world."
Fatheade froze, his eyes widening as he was immediately brought back to that night in Ririnde Valley when Harmon brought him to see the strange Jigglypuffs that had been locked away after causing trouble among the village. They had said something just like that—that they had been given power that was not of this world.
"'Not of this world,' huh?", Varney spoke up. "So where's it from, the moon or something?"
The three elders laughed slightly before trailing off into sighs.
"Some old legends claimed that the Clefairy species came from the moon," the Umbreon said, "Others, too, have been said to come from other places. And yet they contain the same energy that connects all Pokémon, no different than any other..."
"It's impossible to say where this mystery creature came from at this point," the Ninetales added. "There is much we don't know about the universe… things go on far beyond the moon and stars that we can see from here. Many legends speak of other dimensions, realms connected to our world in some way but existing in another space entirely… perhaps a place like that could be the answer."
Fatheade blinked, shaking off the memories of the strange Jigglypuffs speaking and moving all at once as if some malevolent force controlled their bodies. He shrugged slightly before responding.
"Yeah… I ain't never really been a big fan o' those kinda legends."
He hopped down from the chair, taking his notepad (now with quite a bit more full pages in it than before) with him, and strapped his backpack on once again.
"I think we oughta get started with the investigation now that we're here," he said, looking over toward Elder Lukhan. "You got a map of all the places where attacks 'n' sightings happened? That'd probably be a good place to start."
The old Lucario nodded and knocked on the table with his walking staff. Within moments, the Hitmonchan butler rushed into the room, carrying a rolled-up scroll; he hurried over to Fatheade's position and handed the map over before bowing slightly and heading back out of the room.
"Well," Fatheade said, unraveling the scroll and glancing around to his fellow investigators, "Looks like we'd better get goin'."
As he walked toward the door, he turned back toward the elders for a just a moment.
"We'll report back to you guys as soon as we figure somethin' out," he said. "Oh, and by the way… ya got a place for us to stay while we're up here?"
Fortunately, it turned out that the town's elders had indeed found a place for the investigation team to stay during their visit to Polunk. The local bar was once a full-fledged inn, with nearly a dozen bedrooms built in to accommodate travelers; these rooms were still there despite not being used for their intended purpose since before anyone among the team was even born, yet another relic of a time long past when the northern lands were dotted with towns and even cities. While entire civilizations had grown old and faded away, tiny, remote Polunk still clung to existence.
The bar's owners—a Shuckle family who brewed drinks for the bar inside their shells—were more than happy to allow Fatheade and his companions to stay as long as they liked, so long as they bought a drink or two every now and then. Fatheade obliged almost immediately, ordering a glass of berry wine for himself and a pitcher of water that the other members of the team could share between them. Varney and Lopendra protested a bit, wanting to try the house specialty for themselves, but they quickly found that they were thirsty enough that they didn't really care so much what they were drinking so long as it was something.
"Okay," the Jigglypuff said, setting his glass down after taking a long sip and unrolling the map that Elder Lukhan had given him. "Time to start this thing off. All those big red 'X' marks are spots where somebody's been attacked… 'n' the smaller black ones were reported sightings of anything out of the ordinary. Seein' any patterns here?"
Varney shrugged.
"I ain't seeing anything but a flat thing spread out on a table," he said, snickering slightly. "But, uh, you already knew that… heh."
Lopendra rolled her eyes, briefly considering smacking the Zubat with her tail but deciding against it. Ed adjusted his glasses and leaned over the table, glancing over the map intently for nearly a full minute before adding his observation.
"Looks like they're all pretty far away from the center of town," he said, pointing to a few that seemed to be almost out in the woods rather than within Polunk proper. "Especially the attacks. There's a few more sightings further into town, but half the attacks weren't even within sight of a building."
Fatheade nodded and took another drink.
"It's weird, though," the young Squirtle continued, reading over some notes scrawled onto the map next to the markings. "All these attacks, and not a single one of the victims went missing or died… and not everybody had somebody like Elder Lukhan showing up to help."
"Whatever this is, it's definitely not a predator," Lopendra added. "Must be some other motive behind all this… but what, I don't have a clue."
Varney glanced over in the Venipede's direction, then spoke up.
"So this thing just beats people up 'n' leaves 'em lying where they fall, huh?"
"Sure seems that way," Fatheade said. "It's just like Ed said… not a single disappearance or death this whole time, just a whole hell of a lot of Pokémon getting' their asses kicked by somethin' nobody can identify."
"Maybe this thing's trying to scare people away from Polunk," Ed said, looking up from the map. "It doesn't want to kill anybody, but it doesn't want them here, either… for some reason."
"Eh… maybe that's what's goin' on, but I dunno," Fatheade said. "You'd think somethin' with that kinda agenda would be goin' after more high-profile targets. Handin' out a beating to whoever stumbles across it might put the townsfolk on edge for a while… but in these parts, somebody gettin' a little roughed up when they wander too far out in the woods ain't that unusual."
"Yeah… you'd think this thing would stick around to go after Elder Lukhan if that was what's going on," Lopendra said. "Then again… it could be that it just didn't think it could handle him. I know that old coot's tougher than he looks, blind or not."
Fatheade took another drink, then paused for a bit to think things over. He glanced over the map again, his eyes searching over it for the homes of the town elders' families.
"Well, let's keep watch on the other two elders' kids and grandkids," he said, pointing out a few houses, some of which fell squarely in the range where previous attacks had happened. "If we get a buncha Vulpix or Eevee kids turnin' up beat half to death, then maybe this thing's got the elders on its hit list after all."
Ed looked over the map again, noting that each of the 'X' marks signifying attacks or sightings had the date that it had occurred written nearby. After a couple minutes of looking over these, he began to notice something odd—that there had been no new attacks or even sightings of the mysterious creature in the past four days.
"Hey," he said, pointing to the dates of the most recent marks on the map, "Look at this."
Varney cocked his head to the side.
"What's going on?"
"For a while there were sightings every other day, and attacks at least every three days," the Squirtle continued, "But look. The most recent sightings were all four days ago, and there hasn't been an attack in nearly a week."
"So whaddya sayin'," Fatheade asked, "That this thing's already left town?"
Ed shrugged.
"I dunno. Just seemed weird to me that the sightings just… stopped like that."
"That is a little odd," Lopendra said. "Especially after being so consistent for the weeks before that."
"There weren't any reports of anybody fighting back or anything, were there?", Varney asked. "I mean, if somebody managed to hurt this thing, maybe it's gonna be a while before it shows up again."
Lopendra shook her head.
"No mention of anyone successfully fighting back here," she said, glancing over the notes next to the most recent attacks again. "Elder Lukhan's the last one to get a hit in, and we already know how that turned out."
About this time, one of the Shuckles who ran the bar crawled over to the table, carrying a platter of food in two tentacles and offering it to the group of Pokémon. Noting that their lunch had arrived, they hurriedly moved the map aside, with Fatheade carefully rolling it back up and tucking it away under his chair to make room for their meal. Varney and Lopendra nearly drooled at the sight of a small bucket of boiled Surskit eggs, much like what they had eaten for lunch the previous day; Ed had a similar reaction to the plate that was plopped down in front of him, loaded down with a variety of leaves and roots from the sort of lake's-edge plants that would make up a large part of a young Squirtle's diet in the wild. Fatheade grabbed a sandwich from the platter and took a huge bite out of it, pausing to chew for a few moments before nodding and giving a thumbs-up to the waiter… despite his flipper-like hands not seeming to have any thumbs at a glance.
The team proceeded to hungrily scarf down their first indoor meal since their stay at Ririnde Valley as quickly as possible while still managing to taste it in the process, occasionally speaking their minds about the situation at hand when their mouths weren't entirely full of whatever they were eating at the moment. Before long, the table was cleared; Fatheade fished a few small coins out from his backpack (he was the only one still wearing his at this point, the others having dropped their packs off in the rooms they would be sleeping in later that night) to pay for the meal and his berry wine before waddling off toward the door with the rest of the investigators following not far behind.
Far away from the tree-lined outskirts of the village where the investigation team would soon be making rounds, the town's elders once again sat at the table in Elder Lukhan's residence. The blind Lucario drained the last of his cup of tea and then set the cup down; within seconds, his Hitmonchan butler had swooped in and plucked it (and the ornate coaster it rested on) from the table, hurrying off into the kitchen to ready it for the wash as always.
"Quite an interesting group," the Ninetales said, glancing over to Lukhan. "The Jigglypuff… could he perhaps be related to the DeStaav clan who fought in the Yellow Forest War?"
Lukhan nodded.
"Indeed. The one who came before us today is none other than the son of the great Gullemel DeStaav himself," he said. "The resemblance is unmistakable. His aura… it was almost identical to that of the old clan's former leader."
"Gullemel DeStaav, huh… there's a name you don't hear often outside the history books these days," the Umbreon muttered. "If only I'd had a chance to meet him like the two of you did, all those years ago…"
"In truth, we were hardly even acquaintances," Lukhan sighed. "Gullemel and his clan stopped in Polunk to rest for a few nights before heading south to back up Ririnde's forces against the Yellow Forest tribe… we only met in passing, and spoke perhaps once or twice, if that."
The elder tapped his staff on the table and immediately the Hitmonchan returned to the room with a fresh cup of tea, setting it down quickly but carefully right where the previous one had been. Lukhan paused for a few moments, hovering his hand over the cup so that he felt the steam rising off of it, and then continued.
"Anyway… it's not only Fatheade DeStaav who is out of the ordinary," he said, taking a small sip of his tea once it had cooled a bit. "His Squirtle companion… Ed, was it?"
The Ninetales cocked her head to the side slightly, a bit confused. She hadn't noticed anything unusual about the Squirtle, though she could have guessed that he had unusually poor vision going by the fact that he wore a pair of fairly thick glasses.
"What about him? He seemed like a fairly normal Squirtle to me."
Lukhan chuckled slightly.
"Ah, perhaps on the outside… but his aura was hardly normal," he explained. "Quite unusual for one his age. I don't believe I've seen a Squirtle quite like this one in all my years."
The Umbreon turned his head toward Lukhan, the youngest of three elders addressing the oldest with the first question that came to mind.
"What was so different about this one?"
"So many things… but first among them," Lukhan replied, "Was his potential. Only just now drawing near the age of first evolution, and yet somewhere deep within was the power of a fully-trained Blastoise warrior, just waiting to burst forth."
The Ninetales sighed.
"That hardly sounds so unusual as to put him on the level of a son of Gullemel DeStaav," she said. "You have peered into the potential within plenty of young Pokémon… it's almost every day when you come back here with a remark on the strength and wisdom hidden away within one which you glanced upon in passing during a morning stroll."
Lukhan laughed.
"Oh, but this is not merely untapped future potential I speak of," he said, smiling slightly. "This one has already dipped his metaphorical toes into the surface of this sea of power within him… perhaps in the heat of battle he lashed out with strength he didn't know he had, or perhaps while slipping into unconsciousness he let loose with a final attack that he couldn't remember ever learning."
The Ninetales shrugged.
"A Squirtle's water-elemental abilities are naturally amplified when one reaches critical condition," she stated matter-of-factly. "How would this final attack you mention be any different?"
"A Squirtle fighting on his last legs may unleash a stronger Water Gun than usual, true," Lukhan said, taking a sip of tea. "But an unconscious urge to fight harder when the stakes are highest will not suddenly allow a Pokémon to use moves they did not previously know how to use."
"And how can you tell what moves this Squirtle has used?"
"Remnants of their power yet linger," Lukhan replied. "And these remnants were of the sort of power which most Squirtles do not have access to. For example… I detected a hint of psychic energy around him. Growing a bit faint… perhaps several days old at this point."
"Psychic energy… strange," the Umbreon mumbled. "I can't say I've ever seen a Squirtle with psychic powers..."
Lukhan nodded.
"Nor have I," he said. "And yet, they were there. Not only water-elemental power, but psychic energy as well… and even the faintest traces of what I believe resembled the Steel type."
The other two elders were at a loss for words. A Blastoise trained in certain styles of fighting using a Steel-type move or two was not unheard of, but a young Squirtle with access to that power was something they hadn't imagined they would ever come across.
"Hmm," Lukhan said, sipping his tea once again and letting out a barely-audible sigh. "This development has even the two of you stunned into silence, I see. I suppose I really must have a word with this Squirtle before he leaves town."