Not too crunchy, or not too soft - wurmple carapace had some of the best crunch there is.\. Lucario sniffs the air. The wurmple boiling up in the pot already smelled delicious. Masters sneaks the occasional peak of the feral boiling alive as he looks at the moss-covered landscape. He's trying to look disinterested. .
"Hey, got any good berries?" Lucario asks Masters, who flinches. "Sour or Spicy stuff?"
Masters reaches into a pouch on his bandolier and brings out a lumpy looking berry. Off yellow, with speckles of orange, the berry looks like a fist-sized wart. Masters throws, Lucario catches. It feels like mush.
"Iapapa, packs a punch." Masters explains. "Save me half."
Now there's a name he recognizes. Iapapa brews are synonymous with stupid bets, and faces scrunching up like prunes. It's not only strong, it's killer. Certain palettes can't even handle it without their noggins getting scrambled. Surely he couldn't be bringing them with him for their limited healing properties, it's cheaper and less dangerous to guzzle Oran Wine mid dungeon.
While he'd rather have anything else he's not gonna moan about a free berry. He cuts it into two chunky halves with the spike on the back of his palm, squeezing out the juices onto the bright red Wurmple and gives Masters his half. Master immediately kicks his head back and squeezes all the juice into his mouth like gunning a shot. He licks his lips like he didn't just eat one of the most sour berries in the world, then throws the husk away. Rather than ask questions about it Lucario finishes cooking, lobbing the steamy wurmple onto a stone.
He pulls out the feelers, gets all the rough bits away, the horns - the works. Before he takes a bite into the juicy carapace Lucario lobs off a piece.
"Try it." Lucario holds the chunk out. "This is better than what you can usually get in towns."
"No thanks. I'm not much of a meat eater." Masters sighs. "There's a reason why we don't sell meat in-"
Lucario dangles it in front of him. Masters begrudgingly takes the piece then bites into the meat with a satisfying crunch. The look on the Typhlosion's face isn't negative.
Lucario's already digging in, not bothering to savor it. Is it good? Of course it is, because he's cooked it.
"The move you got me with." Masters speaks in between slow bites. "That was an Aura Sphere, right?"
"I don't know of any other ball shaped projectile lucario have which don't do anything to ghosts." Lucario answers drly. "Try being more specific, maybe we can narrow it down."
"Alright, assume I know nothing and tell me how your move works. I did tell you about my Infernal Parade so consider it a trade."
Or an extortion. He didn't ask for Masters to spill his secrets.
"For starters: Aura Sphere has rules. For it to do its thing I need to make it, then it needs me to read a guy's aura - which could take forever depending on a bunch of other rules and after it's thrown it'll only follow the sucker if they're in sight of me. It won't work otherwise. It's picky."
"Picky" is a great way of summarizing how aura has weird rules, everything has rules. Lucario spits out of a bone.
"You'd be surprised how a lot of things have rules when you don't expect it, even criminals." He sighs. "I'm the idiot who thought otherwise. My job was trash."
"Given all the steps you had to follow, it's impressive how close you had me" Masters says, trying to cheer him up. "I had the advantage over you, and you still went in. I wanna know how you-"
There's a rustle in the bushes behind them. Bits of wurmple meat fall onto the ground as he spins up an Aura Sphere. They wait, and then a lost Wurmple pokes its ugly head out of the bushes. The vacant look in its eyes are those of a feral. Seeing the opportunity, Lucario glances at Masters.
"Do you mind if I…?" Lucario speaks.
"Go for it!" Masters says with an eager grin. "Just don't take the thing's life. You already had your meat."
"I'm not aiming for the wurmple."
A deep breath, a closing of the eyes. After a moment of concentration he begins to see a flicker of aura within the Typhlosion. It's colorless like glass, empty looking. He was expecting a more flame-like appearance…more vibrant.
Aura Sphere's bright glow reflects in the feral's gaze. Lucario gets a feel for the projectile spinning in his pal then lets it loose. It hits the wurmple right between those ogling eyes, practically drilling into its nose before it slides off. Other than being scared for its life, the Wurmple is fine. So is the Sphere as it spins harmlessly in the air.
And the instant Lucario turns to face Masters it flies straight toward him with nary any time for him to react - going right through his chest, leaving behind a comical hole as it disperses out his back. Masters hides the gaping hole with a hand.
"I get it now!" When Masters folds his arms the hole's gone, "So it's sort of like my trick isn't it? Are you afraid I'm going to say you copied me?"
"No. I feel like yours is better, it didn't seem like you had to spend a minute staring at me to get your parade-thing working." Lucario kicks the pot, quenching the coals in steaming hot water. "It speaks for itself."
"Everything's got its use." Masters assures him, looking over at the pit. "Are you gonna give those nice merchants back their pot?"
"Nah, I'm not walking all the way back. It's already afternoon and I'd like for us to get to Halfway Rock while the merchants are still there."
And preferably not when all his former coworkers are flying.
If the troubles the Hollow Dreams Tavern had experienced were any indication of how this Continent's gonna be like, every settlement or hobble in the ground is gonna be flooded by leagues of adventurers. And Halfway Rock - the big trade stop smack in the centre of the Dusk Continent - is no exception.
In reality, the town doesn't compare toThe Tavern in Calico. The sandy streets are clean, the adventurers weren't drunk. There's just a lot of pokemon here, more so than there ever will be. The people cramming the streets are wearing the badges, gaudy scarves and cowls of explorers.
Dusk is to be approaching soon, giving them an hour or two of wandering in the rock's shadow looking for answers. The rows upon rows of merchant tents are this place's streets, and travelers flow through them like a river. A smirk from an Aggron, a wave from a purple Kecleon peddling wares, no one here gives them much more than passing acknowledgement. Their stupid clothes are good for something, they blend right in like birds in a flock. More importantly, they hide their gear.
There's no telling what explorer one thousand and one's gonna do when they see the gear around his neck. Protecting them is the ripped up hood Masters wears as a cloak. He almost wishes this dump were a guild town, at least then someone might be too scared to shoot first. He feels as if he's being watched, knowing there's hundreds of murkrow around isn't helping.
"Hey, listen to me 'M." Lucario grabs his attention as a Kangaskan hobbles past, dragging a cart of cupboards by her shoulders. "I don't want to be around when night hits, so split up, ask around, get what we need to be done on our own. Don't show anyone or admit you've got the thing on you."
The Typhlosion glances at his surroundings. There's a tent nearby with all sorts of fabrics on display and several peculiar looking dolls for sale. It sticks up.
"This place seems good to meet up." Masters says, holding out a hand. "Now fork up your coin, I'll get us the essentials - you worry about the information."
"Did you break the bank?" Lucario snorts. "That hat of yours can't be cheap."
"It was a gift, and getting to the Dusk Continent isn't free."
Lucario surrenders his coins. It feels like swallowing medicine.
"Do I have to tell you to not spend it all in one place?" Lucario snarls.
"The thought hadn't crossed my mind till now!" Masters twists the knife by jingling the purse. "Just getting the essentials, Lucario. I'll be back here before you know it."
With a cute little wave, and a swish, Masters wanders off into the crowd. The sound of bouncing coins loses itself to the cacophony of a bustling market. He can pout about the lost money later, where was he going to start?
Knocking on the front doors to the 'Krows isn't going to go well. They'll know who he is, either squawk him away or worse. The town's indie board might be a good place to loiter in case any gear hunters come strolling through. What they're looking for is a winery; getting those types of backwater folk to talk is all too easy, it's just very, very time consuming.
Everywhere had the usual: Oran, Pecha, and the occasional Sitrus Wines. If there were sellers from the north they were selling for Aspear to the idiots who don't realize just how cold it is up there. No one's selling Colbur, no one knows where they grow the stuff unless they're from the north. What do they even use Colbur for?
"Big Bear." Lucario points at the Beartic running an ice-cold brewing tent. "What's special about Colbur? Who eats that kind of stuff?"
"Northern fellows, psychic fellows." Beartic chills a tankard with his breath, and takes a swig. "Say if you ever made a Murkrow mad or something hit you with a dark move, Colbur will hit the spot."
"It's just overpriced Oran for ghosts and psychics?"
"Sheesh, if you wanna say it that way…did someone spit in your Colbur Wine?"
"No, idiot. Steel types can't be-" Lucario grumbles. "Does anyone around here sell this? Can I just get told where to buy it?"
"I don't know anyone." Beartic answers. "For sure they sell it at Lapis Town, you might be able to get a bottle from a psychic. There's plenty of those people who come through."
Oh great, more running back to back between psychic people. Forgive him for thinking his new job didn't involve being an errand boy again. Can't get a straight answer, can't get a simple "oh it's over there." If he had just taken a bottle off of Vileplume's shelves he wouldn't be running all over the place. Should he find one, he might start drinking on the spot.
"Like who?" Lucario gestures at the crowded road. "Can you point me anywhere?"
"Sure can do, there is this funny looking bird who was down the road yesterday. His tent's still up." Beartic holds an empty tankard behind him, and a smaller ice bear snatches it away from him. "He sounded drunk but you can never tell with those enlightened types. Maybe you can ask him for a drink when he's back?"
Sure! Just wait around some, give those Murkrow a chance to start following him everywhere. It's not happening. He'd rather be caught red handed barging into this psychic's abode.
"It's worth a shot." Lucario backs away, waving. "Be seeing you."
He doesn't need to ask what tent. Finding this place is as easy as watching all the merchants flick their lanterns on except for this rectangular one near the back of the street. Near to halfway rock's many "entrances" this empty tent sits in a quiet nook. When he gets there, he looks through the door flap and it's like peeking into the abyss. The fabric was dense enough to blot out any sort of sunlight, and makeshift walls pin it to the floor, making sure there's no seam or crack whatsoever for a glint to leak through.
This place reeks. Someone's been burning a bunch of cheap incense in here, and some of it's still lit, burning away on a table. Right next to it was what Lucario was looking for: a half empty bottle of purple wine. He enters through the door, reaches out for the bottle and sees not only his reflection - but someone else.
He swings around to see this thing behind him: a Lizard so slender and tall their tail wraps around the tent. They point between his eyes; blue glow on their fingertips. Lucario freezes in place.
"Are you alone?" The lizard asks.
"And if I were, would you put me down?" Lucario blinks. "Do it or don't. If I'm stealing from people's tents, then I obviously don't have any money to cough up to you or those talking magnets."
There's a second of hesitation, a twinge in the lizard's arm. He lowers his proverbial weapon, keeping the move ready out of sight.
"Then let's not dawdle, Lucario." He says his species name as if they're somehow friends. "What did you see in Pyrite Passage, hmm?"
Lucario twitches. Pyrite Passage, where he found the gear? He best not be shot for a gear he doesn't even have.
"What about Pyrite passage?"
"It's where we met. You may not be familiar with me, but you should be familiar with my marksmanship." The lizard holds up his hand. A stream of energy flows around his fingertip. "Care for a demonstration?"
It's the guy, the mystery archer. How did he find him?
"I'll pass. You already demonstrated plenty when you tried to put me down." Lucario snarls. "What was that all about?"
"What do you think I was looking for?"
"Yeah, the gear thing, I know. It's been all the rage lately." Recounting the story is like running his nails on a chalkboard. "It got to the bottom of the dungeon, time was weird there, things had no color. The gear gave me a fancy ability which didn't matter because the big dumb lizard you saw still beat me. She stole it and lost it before I could rob her back. Now I'm broke."
"I am afraid to tell you whoever has your gear made a town disappear, and that I'm aware of Halcion and most of your story."
"Then what more do you want?" Lucario shakes the bottle. "A drink?"
"Nothing of that sort." The Inteleon smiles politely, shaking his head. "I wish to know if anything strange happened immediately upon taking the gear."
"I mean the gear is weird, I don't know what else can be more weird than a floating thingamajig." Lucario raises an eyebrow. "You wouldn't have hunted me down if it wasn't crazy, what happened?"
"Pyrite Passage doesn't exist anymore, there is no dungeon. It's become a hole in the ground for visitors to take chunks of shiny ore." Then Inteleon puts his other hand to his chin. "This is a strange occurrence on its own. After Halcion left with the gear, an explorer went searching for the place for treasure. What he found wasn't a dungeon, they found the outside littered with the bodies of ferals."
"Out of the dozens strewn outside of the cave, only two were unconscious, the rest were never to wake up again. There were no wounds on any of the ferals, It's as if everyone in the dungeon ceased to be. I wanted to know if you were aware of this."
A shiver, a cold, glacial feeling that makes his throat dry up. Any feelings of guilt or responsibility he washes down with a quick sip of the colbur berry, flooding his senses with a soury overpowering taste. There's no way he could have known.
"No…" Lucario pauses. "Thanks for giving me something to think about, lizard man."
"It's Louisa."
"Lucario."
"Very well, not everyone has a name.." Louisa performs a short curtsy. "I do not know what to make of this revelation myself, should you stumble onto another in a dungeon - do pause before you take it."
"And what about you? If you hunted down Hal then you're obviously looking for Gears."
Lucario's tone swerves around, as if a sip of liquor was all he needs to turn the thinking part of his mind on.
"I went in there not knowing what those things were. I wouldn't have gone in if you, mystery sniper, weren't trying to keep me from getting what was down there." Lucario steps closer. "You knew about those gears before this bounty was ever a thought in the boss' mind. What's your plan? Why do you want them?"
The Inteleon pauses then smiles. Louisa's look is one of pride and responsibility.
"We both know these gears possess wondrous abilities. All of them are part of one bigger mechanism. Whoever happens to have these gears could do as they please with this power. My goal is to keep them out of the hands of those who may abuse them."
A noble goal, a sensible goal, it makes sense. Louisa lifts open the door with his overly long tail as he slithers, his footsteps vanishing into the crowded streets. Given what he expects of the man who tried to gun him down, things went smoothly. He still has his skin, he's got the bottle. He needs to get out before another gear hunter catches him unawares.
He's not even gonna try busting open the combee hive which is whatever happened to Pyrite Passage. As soon as he thinks it's clear, he's out.
Moments later, he sees the purple fire sticking out the crowd. Masters is at their meeting spot, staring at the collection of dolls as the flaaffy merchant watches with bated breath. Masters waves as he hears Lucario racing up to him.
"M, we gotta get going! Someone's…" Lucario stumbles on his words. "D-Did you get what you need?"
"Yeah, yeah, I got half of what I need." Masters dismisses him, the dolls have his full attention. "We're gonna need one of these if we're gonna be travelling, Lucario. Give me a moment!"
Strewn across the table are dolls of similar shape but wildly varying sizes. They're all vague shapes - little effigies of either a kangaskhan or rhyhorn - a basic horned creature commonly used by people when they can't draw anything else. It's a sort of everyman thing. Their eyes are shut in this kind of sleepy smile, and the fabric does not look cheap.. He's not one for playing with dolls because he's a: not a child, b: financially prudent. They don't have the money for novelties.
His purse is dangling by Master's belt. As Lucario goes to grab it, Masters sidesteps him with grace.
"We can't be buying toys, 'M. We're not hatchlings!" Lucario bemoans. "Don't tell me you've been standing here while I've been wandering around like a dunce."
"Oh, I just gave someone the - ahem." Masters turns up his voice by three notches. "I'm clueless tourist going up to the cool cold lands, can you show me the coooool places up there mister~"
"And a nice guy gave me a map to check out some places." The Typhlosion holds back a laugh, only he finds that squeaky voice funny. "It saved me so much time and money, you wouldn't believe."
"Now you're spending all the money you saved - my money - on stupid dolls." Lucario looks past the table. The pink sheep wearing a knit hat and scarf smiles back. "You there, lady. What's so special about these dolls?"
"I make them with electrified wool." She chuckles. "Should you ever need a light, you can stick a little copper needle into it and it'll glow! It's my own personal touch."
She picks one up, this horned green fellow. Flaaffy drives a spearlike needle through its side.. After a short second or two, the wiry looking head of the needle lights up - somehow not burning the soft little thing. It's unique, he'll give her that.
"Although most explorers just buy them to dupe ferals." She sighs. "Those dungeon creatures aren't the smartest, they tear those dolls up without a care in the world. It makes me wanna cry."
The lady snivels, it's impossible to tell whether it's a show or not. Masters is nonetheless engaged, he's sucking this up. Maybe on purpose..
"Ah, don't you cry! I wouldn't think in a hundred years of throwing my little guy to the ferals." Masters' smile is warm and joyful. "You said you can make clothes for these guys too," he gestures at Lucario, "got any blues? He's gonna be buying one too!"
"No, I-"
Masters swipes the one with the copper stuck into it, stuffing it into Lucario's hands. Its stitched little smile feels like it knows what it's doing, this little olive jerk's mocking him. Lucario wants to pop its wooly head off.
"And this one's for me." Masters says. The one he takes is a bit bigger, it has a blue back instead of olive. He gives it a friendly squeeze, then drops the whole sack of gold onto the table.
"There you go, take all of it! I might even come back for some clothes once I figure out what to name this little guy!"
Nevermind strangling the stupid plush, he wants to ram his first through Masters for this. Even if a punch is gonna do nothing to the ghost, seeing a hole in his face will make him feel a lot better about the money he just wasted on these frivolous toys.
"Oh, that would be delightful." Flaaffy giggles. "Tally ho, misters!
Masters waves back. Stepping away from the shop he hands Lucario a rolled up map. Although still squeezing the doll like a long lost sibling, his demeanor changes as they begin heading out of town.
"You know where to go?" Masters asks.
Lucario flashes him the bottle, and the Typhlosion nods.
Map, bottle, and these stupid dolls in hand - the two explorers exit the shadow of Halfway Rock. As dusk settles upon the lands the crowd slowly thins. The hundred wings and caws of Murkrow overhead signal their leave, and the beginning of a long night ahead.
The world above the merchants was as busy as below. The post office is crowded with murkrow grabbing their packs, preparing for the long flight or several flights ahead. A whole continent's worth of mail gets sorted on the daily, Murkrows have to be scheduled around, some orders requiring three or four birds at once to carry all the goods. It's almost too much work for their murder to handle. It's up to the organizers, the bosses, to make sure this fragile system of night fliers doesn't crack under pressure.
And so far, even during this influx brought on by the bounty, Murkrow Mail has been pulling it through. Thanks to the help of its co-owner, Honchkrow, it'll survive this front.
But even he's getting tired of this. There has to be a better way to live. Seeing those Krows tire themselves out working night by night flying to and fro is as tiresome to watch as it is to organize. He's thought of a bevy of solutions, perhaps buying a Chesto Winery to make sure no one falls asleep mid-flight, maybe giving them better pay. All of them require something he doesn't have: money.
Someone very close to Honchkrow does.
As soon as it's in the clear and the first wave of mail pokemon are, Honchkrow drags out boxes upon boxes of recent mail, spewing them all over a desk. His 'Krows begin to work, opening them up, scanning for any signs of strange artifacts, then sealing them with parchments and stamps as if nothing's happened. No one in the last few weeks has been the wiser, not even his boss.
As they begin to work squawking, sending papers flying, a tired pair of wings enters the offices. A murkrow, identical to the hundreds of others, falls next to the table. An empty flask of Aspear dangles around his throat as he catches his breath on the floor.
Honchkrow peers over the desk, a stack of opened mail in his wings "You okay, son?"
The Murkrow smiles and opens up his clenched talons. In it is a peculiar, purple berry.
"I know where it is, Boss."