Auranosa Brandsand Forge

[Jackie Cat]

Tempered in the crucible, base metals may be forged into tools of every kind. All civilisation depends on the talents of the smith and on such works of artifice – from the humble plough, to the sword of steel.

Brandsand Crevice is a natural dungeon known for being hotter than anger and drier than despair. It's located in the middle of a salt waste on the border of Sojavena, Prosper and Auranosa that is itself hostile to most life. Missions there are rare, but are nevertheless a career milestone for any ranger – one that earns them considerable credibility.

The Crevice is among the hottest known non-volcanic locations in the world. Its extreme temperatures make it home mainly to fire-types and burrowing 'mon that can endure or escape such conditions. Even with the constantly shifting nature of mystery dungeons, certain things here remain unchanged by time or weather. For instance, salt-crusted spires that stay in the exact same spot, no matter how much the environment shifts. Sometimes, stones can be found nearby spelling out warnings, or pleas for help from passing fliers.

In the depths of the Crevice, it is said that a sealed vault can be found by the deepest delvers. One made of a steel that cannot be scratched.

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[Panoramic_Vacuum]

Something is terribly wrong.
So̸̙͍̩͒̆͋mething is ter̵̪͆͝r̵̜͖̝͓͑ibly wrong.
Some̴͕̜̐t̵̯̯̠̏̄̕ḫ̶̗͖̳́͘͜i̴̙̝̱̖̜̅͛̏̌n̴̩͌͛̃̀̚g is terriblỵ̴͍̼̈̄ ̸̡͉̓w̶͍͔͔̠͂r̴̡̪̬̋o̵͔̚ng.
S̶̳͊̇̈́ͅo̸̙͍̩͒̆͋m̶̲̥̮̹͌͑̃́ͅe̴͕̜̐t̵̯̯̠̏̄̕ḫ̶̗͖̳́͘͜i̴̙̝̱̖̜̅͛̏̌n̴̩͌͛̃̀̚g̶̖̼̦̤̈́͘͜ ̵͙̏̐̽̅͠ḭ̷͓͎̏̉̈́͘s̴̤͛̓́͠ ̵̰̀͒͐̅t̴̥͋ë̷̤́̇͗̾͠r̵̪͆͝r̵̜͖̝͓͔͑i̶̠̩̲͇̟͐̈́̽̈̕b̶̨̛̤̰̱͉̂̄̏ľ̴̜͓̳̰͝ỵ̴͍̼̈̄ ̸̡͉̓w̶͍͔͔̠͂r̴̡̪̬̋o̵͔̚n̵̤̹͙͐͒̉̿g̴̝̲͈͋̈́͘͜.̵̧̭̲͗̿̍̌͒͜ͅ.

A thread pulled wire-taut. An inexplicable feeling of dread. Up was down, and down was up, and Steven woke with a gasp lying on the cold, hard ground. Groaning, he dragged himself to his hands and knees. Rough stone bit into his palms and dug into his shins. It was pitch black.

He let out a shaky exhale, breath feeling warm against the cool air of... wherever he was. Where was he? Blinking, he rubbed a hand across his eyes. They were taking forever to adjust to the dark; like he'd been somewhere bright just prior.

But that was... impossible? In the blind silence, familiar sounds of the underground crept through his senses. He must be in a cave somewhere, he'd fallen and hit his head. And lost his light, of course. Why was he here? What had he been doing? He sighed, checking his head for injuries, but when he felt nothing amiss-- no blood, not even a stinging lump-- things weren't quite adding up.

Smoothing his hair back down, he shook his head and stared into the darkness with a puzzled expression. He should be feeling fine, relieved even! But he wasn't. There was something that kept nagging at him, insisting something was wrong. There was something he should be doing. Someone he should be helping? And why did he have a lingering feeling that he shouldn't even be able to bleed?

It was still too dark to see. Tentatively, Steven patted around the ground around him, hoping maybe his light was within reach, but came up empty-handed. No sense in stumbling around blindly, especially underground. He'd have to wait here a bit longer. His eyes would adjust eventually...

---

Gods, it was bright. Couldn't the sun see he was trying to sleep? Wallace swatted a hand in front of his closed eyes to ward off the offensive celestial body. Except his next immediate thought was oh gods he'd fallen asleep on the beach in the sun, and oh gods can you imagine the tan lines, or worse, the sunburn?!

Wallace jolted upright and stared down at his legs. Or rather, where his legs should have been. But there were no legs to be found. Instead he was greeted with a soft, blue-furred tail fin. Immediately fear was replaced with excitement. Was it real? His mother's threat when he was little that if he spent all day in the pool with water pokemon he'd turn into one was true?

He curled his toes, his tail fin flexed, and Wallace burst into giddy clapping. He'd done it! Finally become a mermaid like in the fairy tales! Oh, he could already see his new stage presence now-- wait. Those weren't his hands. Clawed flippers replaced his carefully manicured fingers, and he tried to clamp them over his mouth to stifle a gasp, but all he managed to do was clamp them over the whiskered snout he now had instead. A shocked bark escaped him as the realization struck.

"Oh heavens, I really am a pokemon!" he howled, rolling and twisting away as if he could somehow escape his new form. But all he got for his troubles was a demonstration of the impressive flexibility of his new Popplio body. He patted himself down. Fluffed his neck frill. Even blew a bubble.

It wasn't sunstroke, he really was a pokemon. Certainly not the worst, but still. It was almost too much to believe, and gods, it was hot here. Where was here, anyway? With surprising ease, he tipped up on his tail flipper and scanned the horizon.

Oh, horrific! Not a drop of water in sight!

Wallace flopped back down with a dramatic sigh. Well if fate wasn't a cruel mistress after all. Waking up as a Popplio wasn't the worst. Waking up as a Popplio in the middle of a dry, salty desert was. But, he was a water type... Concentrating, he focused, drawing up the essence of water in his mind and--

Joy of joys! A meager aqua ring formed in the air around him, and oh blessed moisture! Except the sun overhead was relentless. He had to focus a lot to keep the liquid from breaking apart and evaporating into nothing. With a huff, he gave up and let the ring fall to the ground where it splashed with a hiss, vanishing almost instantly into the water-starved soil.

Wallace pulled a face of disgust. Well, he certainly couldn't stay here. Not like this. He'd shrivel up into a Popplio raisin in no time! Desert survival, desert survival, if only he'd filed that information away instead of swearing he wouldn't be caught dead in the middle of a desert. There had to be something he could do to get out of this mess. Maybe find a landmark of some kind? He tipped back up on his tail again and settled for searching for something that wasn't water.

There, on the horizon! It was hard to make out in the shimmering heat, but that looked like something other than dry, cracked salt bed. And at this point, Wallace was more than happy to take whatever he could get. Especially if it meant some godsdamned shade. Popplio or not, his skin might never recover from this.

Another aqua ring cast, and he set his snout in the direction of the something and walked. And walked. And walked. His poor flippers. His poor frill. His poor nose! Fate was a cruel mistress, indeed.

 

[Panoramic_Vacuum]

Finally, his eyes were beginning to adjust. Steven squinted, blinking again as forms were starting to take shape. Brushing his unease away, he peered around in the gloom. A level floor. Ceiling too high to see. Rough walls to the left and right. So, a tunnel of sorts. That was good, he had something to orient himself. But when he turned his attention back to what was in front of him, his blood ran cold.

He was kneeling at the mouth of a yawning portal carved into the rock of the tunnel itself. Strange glyphs covered its surface, patterns of dots creating shapes, letters, words. He'd seen these glyphs before. At a... museum? It felt like he could read them, but every time he tried, the meaning slipped out of his grasp, like grains of sand through his fingers.

But it didn't matter. Because he could feel what they meant. He needed to go through the portal into the darkness beyond. Something was calling to him. Beckoning him. Steven lurched to his feet and staggered, barely able to stay upright. Where had his strength gone? He was exhausted, like he'd hiked miles without stopping. Why?

The portal beckoned again. Stronger. More insistent.

Steven fought back a surge of annoyance. He would go, he would go. He just... needed a minute for his head to stop spinning. The darkness could wait another minute, couldn't it...?

---

Just as the nagging thought crossed Wallace's mind that he might have been chasing a mirage, the something he'd been aiming for came into view, and for a moment all he could do was stare.

It was the crumpled carcass of a Metagross, collapsed face first into the salt. One of its back legs still stood upright, propping its body up off the ground and creating a patch of shade beneath. From the looks of things, it hadn't been here long, what with the lack of rust and grime that probably would have ate away at its body in such harsh conditions. But weirdly, it had been long enough that the color had begun to bleach from its steel hide. He didn't even know that could happen to steel types. Steven would probably know, though, if he were here.

Wallace swallowed thickly. It was grim but... shade was shade, and perhaps there was something poetic about taking shelter beneath something so familiar. He shuffled forward and practically melted with relief as he crossed into its shadow. Sure it was still hot but with the relentless sun held at bay, it felt like heaven. His aqua ring fizzled out, and he sprawled out on the ground, panting. A weak bubble sputtered up from his nose and popped, spraying a gentle mist over himself that, for once, didn't immediately evaporate.

He was probably going crazy, plus had no idea if he was even heading towards salvation, but at least in this whole mixed up, messed up, fucked up situation he had company. Not the most talkative company, but hey that wasn't even that different than normal. Wallace smiled and reached out to pat one massive leg with his flipper.

"You know, you remind me of a good friend of mine. I think I'll name you Steven."

Yeah, he was definitely going crazy.

 

[Panoramic_Vacuum]

One foot in front of the other. What are you waiting for? It's not that hard, Stone.

Then why did it feel like an impossible task? His feet were filled with lead. A chill crept over his whole body, spilling out from the portal in a slow, cold wave that coiled around his ankles with icy tendrils.

He gave a miserable shiver, wrapping his arms around himself to ward off the cold, or was it more an effort to keep himself propped upright? Either way, he couldn't just stay here forever, lost in whatever cave this was. He had no food, no water, no light, nothing. He had to start walking in order to get out. Save himself. Head into the darkness and find his way back.

He shuffled one foot through the portal. The grinding of gravel underfoot echoed deafeningly loud. Almost too loud for him to notice the faint tinkle of wind chimes. Almost. He froze.

Steven...

His head snapped in the direction of the sound. Except there was nothing there but more darkness.

...I'm sending you home...

A warm breeze brushed his cheek, gentle, like the caress of a hand. He leaned into it, followed it, his back now completely turned to the portal.

I love you to the stars and back

He nearly choked, his eyes wide, searching for her in the dark. "...Mom?"

But she wasn't there. Nothing was there. Empty rock walls. Endless darkness. Then where...? She was there, he heard her. Felt her.

Somewhere behind him, the portal roared. Voiceless, noiseless, but it roared just the same. An icy, formless tendril slithered forward and wrapped around his wrist. Another around his leg. His waist. Pulling. Demanding. It was owed, and it would not be denied.

He should listen to the darkness. He should... But then he wouldn't be able to find her. She was out there. He had to go to her. He promised--

Suddenly, he was running. Running away from the cold, towards...? Something? His heart hammered in his chest. There was something here besides the dark. It was just ahead. His breath was loud in his ears. He could feel it. He had to find it. Warmth? Light?

.....ev..n?

What?

St....en....hey.

Was that... Wallace's voice?

....ou....sca...ed.....us...for...a...mome...t.....

...How?

And then the thread SNAPPED. Like he was launched by a cosmic catapult, Steven hurtled from the cold dark nothingness back into consciousness. Groggy, disorienting consciousness that was hardly better than the state he was in prior, but consciousness nonetheless. Gone was his racing pulse, and panting breaths. In fact, he didn't need to pump blood or breathe at all. Strangely familiar, yet oh so foreign all over again.

His eyes cracked open, only to get hit with a wave of nausea, and he shut them again. He felt like death warmed over. Emphasis on warm. Holy gods it was warm. He was still exhausted, limbs too heavy to move, and instead of freezing he was baking.

Lacking the strength to do much else, he cracked open his jaw and groaned.

---

Wallace's fin had hardly flopped back to the dirt when he felt the ground shift beneath him. A dry, crumbling, grinding sound as something moved made Wallace freeze. And then the Metagross carcass above him let out a groan like the hull of Sea Mauville in a storm that sent Wallace scrambling to his feet and darting out from beneath his about-to-collapse-and-crush-him shelter in a panic.

The return of the sun on his back was already unbearable, but it sure beat being flat as a pancake. Except as Wallace warily watched, his shelter didn't collapse on itself nor crumble into dust, and his look of terror slowly morphed into one of annoyance. He stood up on his tail fin and put his hands on his hips with a huff.

"You know, you didn't have to scare me half to death just because you didn't like your new name."

He paused, almost as if he was expecting a response, but of course none came. Gods, he was starting to sound like Steven, talking to inanimate objects like this. Wallace huffed again, sending a bubble into the air. Right. Popplio. He would have to get used to that little side effect...

Just as he had finished deciding the risk of getting crushed was worth being able to get out of this wretched sun, the cracking, grinding sound happened again. And this time, he watched slack-jawed as the supposedly-dead-and-gone Metagross moved.

---

Unfortunately, groaning hadn't seemed to help any, not that Steven thought it would. He was still hot. Still exhausted. Still nauseous. Still couldn't see much either. He'd tried opening his eyes again, only to find one couldn't see anything, and the other could only see blurry... dirt? He worked to bring things into focus, because that was somehow easier than trying to stand up. Why was he lying face first in the dirt anyway?

And then everything came rushing back. Sunward, the Covenant, Amida-- He had to get up. Something happened, something bad.

Steven grunted with effort has he tried to rise. Claws ground against the dirt, trying to gather his sprawled limbs. His legs strained to move, but they hardly budged. Since when was his body so godsdamned heavy? Oh right, he'd evolved. But still, he hadn't had this much trouble before. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong.

Betel? What happened? Why can't I move?

---

Well, that was anticlimactic. The Metagross moved, but not very much. Still, a little movement was more than no movement, and that meant that the Metagross had to still be alive! Somehow. Maybe. Unless this was the heatstroke kicking in and he was hallucinating the whole thing. But he had to bank on it not being heatstroke, though. Because if the Metagross was alive, they might be the only two living creatures within miles in this gods forsaken desert.

Still keeping his distance, Wallace shuffled around until he could see the Metagross's face and... Ah-ha! It was faint, but he could see a red eye glowing in the one visible socket. Moving closer, he waved a flipper in its field of vision. No time to be subtle, they were both slowly baking to death.

"Hello? Hello in there! Blink twice if you're alive."

---

His ping to Betel was met with dead air. No response. Okay, definitely something bad. His body might have betrayed him, but not his mind. Think, Stone. What could have happened? He squinted through the lingering nausea. Could he still be in Sunward? The heat felt right. The sunlight, too. But the dirt-- it was the only thing he could see much of-- wasn't right. Not red enough, more salt than iron. So he wasn't in Sunward anymore. Then... where was he?

And suddenly he became aware that he should have been asking 'with whom' instead.

"Hello? Hello in there! Blink twice if you're alive."

No, that was impossible. Could it be--? Steven swiveled his eye towards the sound of a very familiar voice.

"Wallace?"

---

Wallace gaped. That was most definitely not two blinks. That was most definitely a Metagross staring right at him and saying his name in the voice of the very person he'd named them as as a joke.

His flipper dropped back to earth in a puff of dirt. "Steven?!"

 

[Panoramic_Vacuum]

"I don't understand, how did you get here--"

"Oh my god it really is you, what are the chances--"

They both spoke at the same time, which caused Wallace to bark out a laugh and Steven to give an awkward hum, which Wallace promptly waved off with a flip of his flipper.

"No, no, you first. You seem to be more comfortable with the whole 'I suddenly woke up as a pokemon' thing, so perhaps you know something I don't."

"Ah, well, it's a bit of a long story," Steven began, trying to rise but failing again. An annoyed look crossed over his one visible eye, so Wallace sidled up closer and settled down next to his friend to make conversation slightly easier.

"Enlighten me," said Wallace, resting his chin against his flipper. "Though maybe give me the abridged version, the sun is still baking us to death, and it would be a crime to never get the chance to go for a proper swim in this body."

Steven made a rumbling sound that could be construed as a laugh, and some of the annoyance in his eye was replaced with amusement. "It does suit you," he said, prompting Wallace to primp his frill with his free flipper. "Alright, short version."

Wallace listened intently as Steven explained Forlas and the Wayfarers, the call for help they'd all answered, and Betel.

"--but I think something went wrong. With Betel, maybe? I can't seem to reach them, and..." Steven's eye furrowed, and he peered at Wallace. "How long have you been here, on Forlas?"

"About as long as it took for me to find you, so, half a day, maybe?" Wallace tipped his head to the side in thought. "Though maybe not, since the sun should be a little lower by now. Or are days in Forlas twice as long as what we're used to?"

The frown in Steven's eye deepened. "No, that's not the case. It's remarkable similar, save for the more obvious differences. But... oh no."

His sudden realization fueled Steven's tired limbs, and with a push he managed to dislodge himself from his face-down predicament, settling his body fully on the ground with a loud, dusty crunch. He still wasn't feeling well enough to stand all the way up, but this was a marked improvement at least. Wallace coughed and spluttered, making a show of swatting the dust from his face.

"Sorry," Steven apologized, though he was already rapidly scanning their surrounds now that he could properly see them, and his heart sank. "But I think we may be inside a mystery dungeon."

Wallace paused, mourning the loss of his shade, before prodding further. "And that's...?"

"Not good. Well. It's usually good. I've explored plenty with other Wayfarers, and with Betel to help us... Now, though..." Steven trailed off again, concern growing not just from the lack of Betel's presence, but his own weakened state. Caught in a dungeon with the added responsibility of not only getting himself out of his mess, but now Wallace, too.

"Mm-hm," Wallace hummed, inspecting one of his flippers like he might be checking his nails. "I was hoping for something along the lines of, 'Well, Wallace, a dungeon is--' but I can appreciate you cutting to the chase. But, no I get it. They're not here and now you're stuck in this dungeon with me."

"That's not it," Steven admonished, only to look back at his friend and find Wallace wearing quite the cheeky expression. "Very funny. I--" thought I'd never see you again Steven stopped himself before the words could come tumbling out. Besides, was this even Wallace from his world? Surely if he was, he'd know about that... right? Steven course corrected, forcing a smile to his eyes, because well, what he said instead was still the truth. "I'm glad you're here. Even if I'm puzzled exactly how you got here."

Wallace's smile took on a more self-satisfied note. If he noticed Steven's hesitation, he didn't mention it. "Well, far be it from me to look a gift Horsea in the mouth. It's good to see you, too. Now how about you use your handy-dandy direction sensing and get us out of this dungeon or whatever. It's a good thing you ended up as a Metagross and not like, a Minior or something."

At this, Steven's expression fell. "Ah, I'm afraid it's not that easy. Normally, I could try to sense what direction was magnetic north, but I'm not sure that would help inside a dungeon. Not to mention this heat is affecting my internal magnetism. I don't think I can even levitate right now."

The first look of concern crossed Wallace's face. "Well, that is a problem then. I can't exactly carry you, nor do I know much about these 'mystery dungeons.' But I get the feeling if I left to try and find help, I might not be able to find you again."

"No, no. Ah, it's better to stick together, you're right." Steven's reply came out slightly too quick and slightly too nervous. He was ready with an explanation-- it was the right call from a survival standpoint-- but really it was a cover so he didn't have to explain how painful it would be watching Wallace disappear from his life for a second time.

Thankfully, Wallace didn't seem to notice, so instead Steven put his efforts towards trying again to stand. "Normally I could call for help over our network, but it doesn't seem to be working," he said, the ground cracking beneath his claws as he managed to gather his legs from where they'd sprawled. Almost there. "I hope the others are okay..."

"Well, if they're half as resourceful as me, or half as evolved as you, I'm sure they'll be fine," said Wallace, casting a new aqua ring as he sidled into the meager shade cast by Steven's body. He curled up and peered out at the flat expanse of desert between them and salvation. "Looks like it's just the two of us then. Just like old times."

Steven's eyes dimmed as he tried to focus on regaining his energy. "So it seems. And this time it doesn't even involve me dragging you to a cave."

"Or me dragging you out of one."

At Wallace's pointed look aimed his way, Steven gave a nervous laugh. "Ah... A fair point. That feels good, by the way. It's a clever trick." He could feel the cooling effect from Wallace's water manipulation up close, and he leaned towards it.

"I'm full of clever tricks, Steven. You know that. In fact, this is giving me an idea for my next contest. No spoilers though, you'll just have to come and watch when we get back to Hoenn."

Whatever relief Steven had been feeling was snuffed out in an instant. His gaze darted down to where Wallace was seated in his shadow, but Wallace had already gone back to scanning the horizon. Did... Did Wallace not realize what he'd just said? Or was it that somehow Wallace didn't know? Just like he hadn't.

Steven stared down at his friend, who carried on rambling about water type moves and their applications, and held his tongue. By some grace of good fortune, he was given this new lease of time with Wallace. Maybe it was selfish of Steven, but he didn't want to do anything to taint it. It would be better to let Wallace remain blissfully ignorant.

"Mm," he hummed in confirmation. "When we get back to Hoenn."