( june event ) who's that pokemon?

[officialnotice]

EVENT: WHO'S THAT POKEMON?

For the residents of Wayward Pines, the 19th is just your typical boring Monday. The sun is shining. The birds are chirping.

Until suddenly, they're not.

That's the first sign. Maybe you don't even notice — you're far too busy with your nine-to-five, or maybe even by poolside, blissfully ignorant to the trouble brewing just out of sight, or to the fact that SPF 15 is basically just water anyway. Or maybe you aren't quite so lucky. You notice the birds have gone silent. You feel the eyes upon you, unseen but still raising goosebumps on the back of your neck.

And then from the woods, that telltale scream.

No, two screams, then three, then five, then more than a dozen. You can't count them, can't figure out which direction they're coming from. It's like they're all around you now. Even above you. Now you spot them on the rooftops — god, they're huge, you can't even fathom how they made it up there unnoticed.

But they're not playing at stealth anymore. One leaps off the roof, a single fluid bound on long thick limbs, and barely lands on the sidewalk for a moment before it lunges at the nearest person — your neighbor mowing his lawn, or maybe the woman carrying that armful of bags out of French's Grocery — long claws slicing through their flesh like a hot knife through butter. Then comes another, and another. Into the streets, the backyards, and the ill-timed pool parties, tearing through every living soul they can find.

By nightfall, the creatures have retreated back into the woods en masse, but anyone foolish enough to wander too far from the safety of their homes runs the risk of being picked off one by one if they're not careful. The 20th and 21st follow a similar pattern; during the day, the Sheriff and a team of volunteers comb through the woods looking for survivors, and during the night, these creatures do much the same.

The morning of the 22nd dawns with the last of the vicious "murder potatoes" (as Linda had hysterically dubbed them on the first day while wielding a butcher's knife with astonishing proficiency) have fallen, and the danger is gone.

For now, anyway. The questions they leave behind, however? Those are here to stay.

MOD NOTES

This is a catch-all for any and all threads pertaining to the Who's That Pokemon event! It covers the battle on the 19th and the lingering danger over the course of the 20th and 21st.

PLEASE INCLUDE IN YOUR TOP-LEVEL SUBJECT LINE: Character Name, date, location, and open or closed, to help keep things a bit more organized.

If you have any questions regarding this event, feel free to ask them here!

Comments

[sirnyxalot]

Fire. That explains a few things. [Also go figure. The moment comes when he actually needs to be a glaive and the monsters are weak to the one element he's been having problems with.

Nyx eyes the guandao and glances over Magnus. He'll be sorry later for being a little skeptical but you don't stand much like a man who's used to this sort of thing. Of course, in all fairness, Magnus's blade is a more sensible weapon than Nyx's so who is he to judge?]

You could say I've been thrown around by bigger monsters.

[appetitive]

[Magnus, on the other hand, appreciates it since fire is the most natural kind of elemental magic for him. It's a fact he shows off when he spots a creature in the distance, and before it can decide whether or not to attack them, Magnus leaves his weapon to balance on one end while both hands shift through the air to conjure up a bright ring of fire around the two of them. The flames are brighter than they are hot, and tinged with flickers of green and blue.

Putting a hand back on the guandao, he leans some of his weight on it while resting.] Then we're lucky to have you here right now. I'm Magnus Bane. [And he offers a hand with something of a weary smile.]

[sirnyxalot]

[Nyx quirks a grin. Having an ally at his side immediately shifts his tension to something more familiar and exciting. He shakes Magnus's hand, thrilled to have another magic user to fight with. He wasn't a glaive but his magic did some interesting things that theirs never did.]

Nyx Ulric. That's some technique you've got. Impressive control.

[He glances down at his hand. His spells aren't nearly as fancy, but he also can't mold his elements like that, which feels like a shame. Nyx focuses, holding his palm up. He can feel the spell pulling at his veins; it warms his skin in a rush that feels like home as much as it brings him back to the day he died. The scars down his left arm are evidence of the price of desperation at the end of one's world, but the stakes aren't quite as high here. The enemies aren't as strong and the fire that flickers to life in his hand doesn't burn.

He feels a wash of satisfaction and looks out to where the creatures suddenly are no longer interested in approaching. He has a weapon now. Nyx extends his arm out to the nearest creature and casts with a thought. His aim is off, missing it by several feet, but the fire blooms like a small explosion and the enemy scatters with an angry shriek.]

We might actually be able to make it.

[Nyx shakes out his arm, residual magic making his scars itch.]