summertime chill // OPEN (Event)

[nosotros]

Who: Everyone!
Where: Downtown
When: June 24th, evening
Summary: Ice pixies are such jerks
Rating: PG-13

It should have been a nice balmy evening. Instead it's chilly, and only getting colder.

Throughout downtown various civilians are asleep on their feet. In some cases literally. What's more the ice pixies, little humanoid creatures that look like tiny and slightly spiny ice sculptures, are out in force, flitting about in groups of two and three and generally causing problems.

But the citizens of El Sera aren't alone. The magic stirring in the air calls out to the mages and magical boys in the city, seeking to draw them out of their homes and to the defense of the city...

(ooc: Go nuts, guys! You're free to NPC the ice pixies on your own, as I won't have time to reliably do so myself. However, I can provide prompts, IC stumbling blocks, or other tools for you to play with on request!)

Comments

[warmgun]

Have you seen more of them around town? There's more than just a bit of ice to worry over.

[John taps on the glass of the car behind him, then gestures to the various wrecks along the street.]

I'm a bit cold, but I'm pretty sure Americans aren't that sensitive to a little summer chill.

[amnesiadragon]

Yes. Too many of them. I know fairies like playing pranks, but this is too far.

[He shakes his head.]

I'm pretty sensitive to it, but I'm holding up okay I think. I'll walk with you if you want.

[For a certain value of 'walk'.]

[warmgun]

[John glances down at the pistol held loosely at his side. It hadn't seemed to do much to the pixies.]

Yes. I need to find a better weapon, though. We can't all be dragons, of course.

[He pauses.] You... are a dragon? Or is that some kind of armor? [Not a question he ever expected to be asking, but there you were.]

[amnesiadragon]

I don't know much about guns. I usually fight with swords.

[He nods at the question.]

Half of one, anyway. It's complicated. But this is my hybrid form.

[warmgun]

Of course. [And why not? Half-dragon hybrids wield swords and have flaming fists. This is beginning to sound more than a little like a Dungeons and Dragons game. That had been Harry's area of interest, not his.]

I was more thinking a flamethrower or something similar given the ice.

[amnesiadragon]

[There's a brief semiblank stare - but it's easy enough to figure out what he means by the word itself.]

Oh. Maybe. I wouldn't know where to get one, though. I don't really need it.

[For obvious reasons.]

... Maybe it would be easier to spot them from high up. Do you want me to give you a lift?

[warmgun]

[It's John's turn for a flat stare. When he speaks again, he isn't sure whether he should be amused, terrified, or perplexed by the offer. He's talking to a half-dragon bloke who's offering to fly him some not unsubstantial distance up from the ground when they've just met. He considers how utterly ridiculous that is, then brushes it off.]

Ta! I'd appreciate an overview. Think I ought to get your name before I let you pick me up, though. I owe you a pint for saving me there after this, anyway. I'm John.

[amnesiadragon]

I'm Ryu. And I'll skip the pint.

[Scias was always drinking those and it made him smell really bad. He lands in front of John.]

Just hop on between my wings.

[warmgun]

Well, we'll figure something else out. What do dragons drink?

[John returns his gun to the waistband at the small of his back as he's talking. Now that he's actually faced with the prospect of this thoroughly impossible flight, he feels awkward. How did you actually mount a dragon? A shirtless half-human dragon at that. He settles for treating it like a training drill where he's playing the wounded soldier and someone's carrying him out.

In halting movements, John places his hands on Ryu's shoulders for a brace and swings one leg over his tail. Just... hop? John knows he's about to look incredibly silly. He steels himself then pulls himself up, applying pressure like he would for a piggyback ride to hold himself in place.]

[amnesiadragon]

I usually look like just a normal person.

[Once he's sure John isn't going to fall off, he takes off. His wings actually flap surprisingly little, as he rises above the buildings and hovers at a level near the tops of the larger ones.]

[There's frozen people all over, but it's hard to see if they're concentrated anywhere.]

... Huh.

[warmgun]

[In spite of himself, when Ryu takes off, John's hands slide from a wary grip at the half-dragon's shoulders to lock around Ryu's neck.

All right. He's flying. They're flying. It's like a helicopter. Nothing to worry about. He repeats this mantra as they rise and level off. He'll figure out the appropriate show of thanks later if pints aren't in the cards.]

They're everywhere.

[John's talking as much about the people as the pixies when he finally manages to relax his new vice-like grip around Ryu and check below.]

Christ. Hold on a moment, though... [His brow furrows as he instinctively looks for patterns.] There's more of them near the water. See? By the river and the boardwalk. [Normally he'd point, but like hell he's letting go until they're back on solid ground.] You can't... shoot fireballs, can you?

[amnesiadragon]

... You're right.

[He heads more towards that direction. It shouldn't take long before they're there.]

I can. I'm running out of time on being able to keep this form active, though.

[warmgun]

How many form have you got? [The question might be just a touch incredulous. That isn't exactly what's important at the moment, though. They're making a beeline for a dense pocket of pixies and John needs to figure out what he's going to do. If the dragon's going to be out of power soon, they'll need another line of offense.

He searches the shop fronts below and notes something that looks like a hardware store.] Can you pull down there? By the shop with the orange sign? If you aren't going to last much longer, we'd best be prepared.

[amnesiadragon]

A few.

[He lands carefully, makes sure that John is off his back, and then there's a burst of blue light. He's kept the horns and wings, but he's now dressed in black pants and a black vest, with a white shirt, red mask, and red bowtie. He rolls his shoulders for a moment and puts a hand on his sword. When he speaks his voice is a lot less gruff.]

I can still fight like this. I just don't have as many fire attacks.

[warmgun]

[John isn't going to ask about the young man having so many different shapes. He's really not. Perhaps after they're finished... killing off the pixies? Driving them out? Was this something Xochipilli was supposed to manage? Rau's letter had indicated some hand in the supernatural. John knows well enough not to count on a cavalry, even if he's hoping for one.]

Right. Just a mo, then. I'll find us something that's more fuel-limited than time.

[He hurries into the hardware store and emerges not two minutes later with a flamethrower, the propane canisters strapped to his shoulders in the backpack set up the unit had come with. It's not nearly as impressive as Ryu's dragon forms, but it'll get the job done. John reasons it isn't really stealing. He'll see to making a large purchase here later.]

Ready to go, mate. Let's get that pack up ahead.

[With some difficulty, John resists adding a Bond one-liner to the effect of heating things up. This certainly feels like a movie, but he isn't that far gone.]

[amnesiadragon]

[He nods, and heads towards the pack. They giggle and head towards the pair - but before one can launch an attack, Ryu sticks his sword into the ground and launches a small jet of flame at the closest one. They screech and flutter around.]

[warmgun]

Easy enough to scare.

[John takes aim at one of the scattering pixies, but his flame isn't nearly as impressive. It's some kind of DIY tool, he tells himself. He can't expect military-grade equipment out of a civilian hardware store.

They move through larger and larger swarms of pixies as they approach the edge of the river. John keeps an eye on his companion... and the meter reading close to the red on his chosen weapon. Not good, but if they can scare off the things, he's fairly certain they'll keep flying.]

Running low on propane. How much longer have you got that form for?

[amnesiadragon]

This one is closer to the one I usually walk around in. This place gave me these clothes. I don't know what half of them are.

I've got more than just magic, though.

[And with that, he races forward and slashes through one of the pixies, cleaving it neatly in half.]

... They're pretty weak.

[warmgun]

Strong enough to put all those people into comas.

[Even still, John considers the move. He doesn't have anything with him for close-range combat and the Ryu's moving with what John would consider unnatural speed. The empty tanks can probably make decent clubs, though. Even as the thought occurs, the flame sputters and cuts out on the flamethrower. No time like the present to test a hypothesis.]

Damn it.

[The curse is muttered as he unhooks the straps and wrenches one of the propane bottles free. One of the pixies, attempting to take advantage of his distraction to come in close is the first victim of the canister. The thing isn't dead, but it's 'limping' in flight terms as it buzzes off.]

How many more do you reckon we'll need to take out before they back off?

[Even if the dragon doesn't know where the pixies are from, he's obviously magic. That's about the best recommendation for an opinion on the matter in the circumstances.]

[amnesiadragon]

[Ryu goes for that one, slicing through it to finish it off.]

I don't know. They're not like the fairies I know. They wouldn't do anything like this.

[warmgun]

You know fai- Nevermind. Of course you do.

[John's brows knit together as he takes another swipe at a pixie. They're backing off now, which he doesn't particularly like. They group together and move higher, settling over the frozen river. A small barrage of ice chunks follows that is annoying, if not deadly. Even if his shoulder hadn't been shot, John doesn't imagine he can lob his propane tank high and far enough to bother them. Luckily, Ryu's got wings, and John's got his gun plus an extra clip of bullets. He sets down the tank and pulls the gun from his waistband at the small of his back.]

Let's finish off this lot, at least.

[He starts shooting, though the bullets have minimal effect, and he keeps having to duck the pixies' volleys.]

[amnesiadragon]

[Ryu steps in front of the volleys of ice, doing his best not to cry out. He doesn't do well with the cold, but he doesn't want John to get hurt, either. He fires off another few bursts of fire, but he's starting to run out. Relying on his sword wouldn't be too bad, but it's not as effective.]

[warmgun]

[John frowns when Ryu takes the first hits meant for him. Then the next. Using a human - or half-human - shield makes him uncomfortable, however tough the young man might be.]

Dodge. Don't take the hits straight on. I can move and find cover if they're too much a bother.

[They are enough of a bother that he's out of bullets with only two of them down out of the assembled dozen. There's the blue magazine clip in his pocket. He doesn't particularly want to use, it but he's drawn to it, just as he had been the day he'd arrived in El Sera. With a muttered curse, John ejects his spent clip and slams in the other magazine. He transforms in a burst of light. He's in a black vest, pair of shoes, and slacks, with a fancy white shirt and electric blue cravat. The costume is embarrassing, but considering present company and the new white and blue assault rifle in his hands, he's not going to mention it.

John zeroes in on the pixies again, and when he shoots this time, the bullets come with their own crackling light and shatter the pixies they hit. He'll worry about how this makes absolutely no sense once they're out of danger.]

[amnesiadragon]

[He nods, and steps aside, mouth hanging slightly open in shock at the assault rifle. He's never seen a gun like that before.]

[warmgun]

[To be honest, John's never seen anything like it before, either. The pixies, seeing their fellows fall more swiftly now, begin to scatter. John dials in on them with an accuracy that feels wholly unnatural and shoots, hardly feeling the recoil. This is very wrong, but it's getting the job done. He stops shooting once the last few have fled too far, and looks down at himself.]

That might have come in a bit handy earlier. Sorry. This doesn't usually happen when I change magazines.

[He wonders if he's got some kind of time limit, too.]