route_1065 | It's a bird! It's a plane! It's a... flying shark

Who: Anyone in Olivine who wants to hop in
Where: Olivine Pokémon Center
When: Throughout July 30
Summary: There's a hurricane and the Sharpedo are flying, so the Pokémon Center is a natural place to take shelter.
Rating: starting with PG for injuries and mild language. Thanks, Sharpedonado
Log:

What a way to end a month of rain, rain, and... more rain. A hurricane striking the coast is just about as extreme as you can get, weather-wise, and Olivine City is battening down the hatches. The damage is inevitable, but people have been taking what precautions they can over the past few days.

What isn't helping is the ill-timed swarm of Sharpedo coming up the coast. So have fun when the storm starts lifting them out of the water and flinging them at innocent bystanders.

The Pokémon Center is an obvious safe place for travelers to hunker down and wait out the storm. It's equipped with provisions and (hopefully) space to accommodate most anyone who needs shelter. Power will more than likely be lost at some point, but the best people can do for now is wait this disaster out.

((This log is mingle style, so put up headers and add your tags to the entry as you want!))

Threaded | Flat

Don't ask Scar what the hell he was doing outside.

When everybody was talking about this hurricane, he had thought it would simply be heavy rain. Perhaps a little wind. Scar had never experienced a coastal storm, before. His natural brashness and complete ignorance were nearly the death of him.

Again.

But seeing the danger of the storm with his own eyes wasn't enough to drag him inside. Quite the opposite, really. The network was shaky and he couldn't get a hold of anyone. What if Lust hadn't made it to the next town, yet? Scar, in top idiotic form as always, wasn't thinking rationally at all. The shock of the hurricane only made his impulsive instincts worse.

With the Stone gone from his body, he wasn't as resilient as he used to be. In the Great Scar Tradition, he just had to get hurt in some completely absurd way. In this case, it was taking a flying Sharpedo right to the side of his head. So here comes his Growlithe, Daniel, dragging him back to the Pokémon Center. Scar was unconscious, soaked, and covered in mud. His head was bleeding. He was probably sporting quite a few new bruises. He'd been worse.

It was better than his usual sewer escape routine, at least.

What possessed Raikov to go outside, no one knows. Maybe he forgot something out there. Maybe a certain fuzzball had gotten blown off his shoulder and the poor man had to go rushing after her in the terrible storm.

It was a miracle he hadn't died considering a Sharpedo slammed right into him just as he managed to return Katya into her pokeball. It knocked him flat on his back and he blacked out for a second or two. When he snapped back to his senses, he looked up to see the rather large shark pokemon lying on top of him. The weight was... well, he had experienced heavier. It almost made him nostalgic.

But now wasn't the time to lie around and think of days past. After a bit of struggling and possibly some punching when it set in that a freaking shark was on top of him, Raikov quickly reconciled with the thing and decided to catch it for the time being. He could let it go once the storm was over.

Now that the shark was taken care of and Katya was safe, he had to get himself back to the safety of shelter. While he hadn't broken anything, there was definitely some bruising going on around his ribs. He slowly rose to his feet and hunched over, holding his sides and grimacing in pain as he made his way to the Pokemon Center. Once inside, Raikov felt the toll the storm had taken on his body and prompt collapsed into a nearby chair, completely exhausted.

Why, oh why, did he care for that electric puffball so much?

Edited 2014-07-31 00:11 (UTC)

There was grumbling in the basement of the Pokemon Center.

Shit, after a few hours with a crew stacking sandbags around to keep the roads from washing out and to try to keep water away from at least one building in this town, Blake was soaked to the damn bone. He was stripping off his raincoat and sitting down on a stool to wring out his socks.

The bare bulbs overhead gave a strong, steady light. The chug of the generator was textured with a few crackles and the ting of teeth tapping metal.

"Tired, Steve?" he said. "The squirrel can take over."

Steve made a firm snub around her mouthful of metal. Blake didn't speak dog, but he caught the gist that she had a few more Thunder Fangs in her.

From upstairs, somebody yelled that there were sharks flying around in midair outside.

"No there aren't," Blake said to nobody in particular.

mentions of blood/head injury in here

Open to all!

Open to anybody!