Spooky Scary Skeletons!

[magpiemythos]

Loki had no idea if any other places were having Halloween bashes, but that wasn't gonna stop him from having his fun! Pub-crawls were a thing if that were the case! The Viper's Pit had been decked out in the spirit of the season, the drinks, boozy and non were themed for the holiday, and aside from the magically drugged glitter one could play with down in the club, there were all manner of edibles.

While the changes were mild inside the building itself, the field had undergone the most changes, from the disappearance of the arena and bathhouse to the forests normally vaguely in the middle distance having been drawn in much closer, ringing a large open field where several bonfires were crackling merrily, each stocked with comfortable places to sit, as well as marshmallows, skewers, and several options for meats to be grilled over an open flame. To the east of the clearing was an expansive-looking corn maze, and standing vigil over it from somewhere in the vague center was a large Victorian-looking house. Anyone who wanted to go snooping would find the maze and home both charmingly haunted by costumed staff looking forward to the chance to scare the pants off some unsuspecting partygoers.

Nothing about the place seems off, or strange. Bats fly about overhead, the moon is large and positioned quite perfectly to make the haunted house look charmingly spooky, and the woods that spread around the clearing are just begging for people to dare to creep down it's paths, jumping at the shrieks that echo from the maze, or just their own imaginations running away with them. Not that there seems to be anything scarier than some mild-mannered wild-life like the owls hooting in the trees- it seems the woods are more designed for a nice nighttime stroll for folks who might want a bit of quiet than anything.

Of course everyone wore costumes. They did right? It's a costume party after all! And if anyone didn't have one, the staff of the bar were quite happy to furnish some of the spares they had on hand, even if it might be something so simple as an animal headband, a pair of wings, or a sheriff's badge and toy gun.

No one was quite certain when things started becoming weirder. Not specifically, and no one was sure why it had happened, given the first sign of things going wrong? Was one of the poor unsuspecting waiters who'd been wearing a cute little bear headband? Was suddenly now a very large, and very confused grizzly bear in a darling little vest trying to balance the tray he'd been carrying on one paw, and attempting to sort out how to get all the drinks off without tipping them onto the customers, who were now a table of animals of varying sizes and shapes, as well as one very bewildered knight, whose plastic armor was suddenly much more realistic and cumbersome.

And from the yelps of surprise and alarm echoing quickly through the Pit and the yard, it was clear this was not an isolated incident.



((ooc: Costume bash! OOC info is here leave any questions in there! Feel free to tag either pre or post-costume realism! For toplevels please use the Trick Or Treat system! If you're just wanting cute fluff or maybe minor spooky stuff, just leave 'Treat' in your toplevel's subject line. If you're here for scary chases and angst, or being a monster to hunt folks for fun (keeping in mind the AVF is in effect!) just post 'Trick'! If you're open to both just put both in! Hopefully this'll make it easier to match up what folks are hoping to play with here even if you're going in otherwise blind. The costumes will revert come sunrise with no ill effects- happy hauntings!))

Comments

[jarheadclan]

This place is strange, dark and cold and full of decay. The movement draws the palulukan's eye, but there is no body heat, no fear-smell or sounds of prey. Nothing to eat here.

Frustrated at the lack of food, the beast growls in his throat, tail lashing slowly. Smoke is an unnatural smell, something not often smelled in the rainforests of Pandora, and he is not certain he likes it. Should he investigate? He sniffs the air inquisitively.

[turningcolors]

Something crunches beneath the great beast's weight if he steps forward toward the glimpse of red he'd spotted. A thick trail of crisp autumn leaves shatters underneath the predator's weight. They shouldn't be here, not crowded among so many cornstalks.

But a tantalizing scent begins to fill the air as more of the leaves crumble. It won't be anything Jake could put his finger on even if he were right in the head but magic is often a tricky thing. To the palulukan's starved senses it mimics what the hunter most wants. The faint but unmistakable scent of prey.

[jarheadclan]

Decaying plant matter in the forests of Pandora are rarely this dry, this brittle. Corn stalks rustle, brushing against his flanks as he creeps forward through the dark maze, sniffing at the air. There is something...

Enormous lungs heave air through vents on his neck, and he lifts his head to catch the scent, glowing sensory quills flared to home in on the signs of prey. Warm blood, warm meat, somewhere in this field of dead things.

There.

The palulukan slinks lower to the ground, prowling forward through the dry brown cornstalks. Ahead, a strange scent of sweet and meat, a living scent that does not belong here. This is a realm of the dead and dying, and the palulukan intends to add to their number.

[turningcolors]

Here and there the red cloak flutters just at the edge of the great predator's line of sight, always just out of reach. The laughter that echoes eerily through the corn is faint but penetrates the air, deep into Jake's skull. It's encouragement, it's the joy of the hunt, it is primal thrill in doing as nature intended of a carnivore.

The spirit makes not a sound as she moves. Does not startle the prey Jake knows he is creeping closer to. Ahead, there's rustling in the corn field that isn't the predator. Hazel is all but guiding this fearsome hunter to what it seeks so desperately.

A prize. A meal.

A hunt.

[jarheadclan]

The predator's mind responds as a predator's should, keen senses alert for any sign of prey, of rivals, following that flash of red and tantalizing smells through the dry field. Color means prey, a chase or a fight, the chance to sink his sharp teeth into soft throat and taste the blood that runs within, feel the squeals as it dies in his fangs. He takes in a deep lungful of air, tracking those scents, sensory quills flared wide and glowing softly against the corn.

Soft footfalls ahead, and a glimpse of green and yellow barely visible above the brown cornstalks. The palulukan hunkers down, slowing his steps as he observes the prey. Not as large as most Pandoran wildlife, but more akin to it than anything he's scented here: four legs, a long neck, its chin adorned with something yellow and sweet-smelling, large green leaves branching skyward like wings. Even if he were in his right mind, Jake would not recognize the Tropius for what it is, the Pokemon wandering among the passages of the maze, oblivious to the threat that lurks in the dark.

He tucks his quills close to his head, every line of his body sleek and fluid, ready to pounce. Step by step, he creeps closer, brittle stalks snapping and crumbling under large paws. He is too large to fully hide, but no matter. His legs are long, and his hunger is great. If it notices him and flees, he will give chase. And if not...

He imagines he can taste the blood already.

[turningcolors]

The Nexus makes many soft. They take for granted what is a gift, not a right. They bask under the protection of forces they do not understand, forgetting to respect the rules of Nature. Many would see this great beast and think to befriend it rather than respect what it has evolved to be.

The AV-field may protect unwillful violence, but the palulukan's prey is a Pokemon. They know combat, and when challenged the Tropius will not first think to flee. It will stand its ground. It will fight.

It's bulk means nothing to a much larger predator. The pokemon rears its head when it scents the palulukan's approach. When it whips round its head it throws leaves as sharp as razors the predator's way. Clearing the cornstalks before it rears a challenge. A brave creature. A foolish one.

A meal.

Hazel sits weightlessly atop what's left of the intact corn nearby to watch.

CW: Pokemon death

[jarheadclan]

His hiding place has been discovered. There is no more purpose to stealth. The palulukan rises out of the shredded, shattered cornstalks, droplets of blood seeping through the small cuts on his black skin where the razor-sharp leaves struck the beast behind its cover. Glowing quills flare wide and he snarls, an answer to the challenge the Tropius gives.

And then he charges.

Six long legs dig claws into the earth, throwing a spray of cold dirt in his wake. More razor leaves slice against his face and forelegs, little stings that annoy him but do little to stop him from pouncing, ignoring the rivulets of blood trickling from his wounds. Claws bite deep into warm flesh, tatter the leaf-like wings, and his first lunge at the Pokemon's throat misses, snapping shut on the sweet yellow fruit at its chin.

The Tropius lets out a cry and stomps at the predator, attempting to throw its weight against the attacker, and exposes its long neck for a moment.

The last mistake it will ever make.

Sharp fangs latch around the doomed Pokemon's throat, and it lets out an alarmed sound that is swiftly cut short as the palulukan thrashes his head. The wet snap of bone rings out in the dark field, a spray of blood painting the dust and dried corn, and dripping-red fangs roar out in victory and warning.

This is my kill. Stay away.

[turningcolors]

In the forest predators hunt using the cloak of night as their cover. In the breeze the hunters stalk well downwind of their prey. Using every advantage nature provides. Honoring the dead falls under her domain as well, but she need not worry here. The palulukan is not going to waste this hard won meal.

It may have been Other mischief that cursed this partygoer into such a beast, but Hazel has ensured the creature will not go hungry on this night. That none of the other ignorant masses will end up facing down a Hungry predator. Or at least not a starving one.

When the palulukan has finished its meal only then does Hazel approach. She strides atop the cornstalks until there are none left intact before walking outright on the air itself to be closer to even height with the predator. Too small to be a meal, still smelling of dried leaves and fresh earth and not a living, breathing, thing.

"Have you had your fill? Do you need me still, fierce one? Or will you roam free now?"

[jarheadclan]

The palulukan waits a moment, surveying the territory he has claimed with lifeblood. No challengers appear, no scavengers on the fringes waiting for a chance to dart in and steal. He lowers his head to the warm, quiet body and begins to tear and eat, hot blood running down his throat. Meat, organs, even bone crunches in his jaws.

There is little left in the end. A few tattered, severed pieces deemed inedible to his predator's tongue, left in the dark stained earth.

His head lifts at the approach of something strange, something new, and his reddened teeth flash before he sees her truly. He does not recognize the words, nor the creature that floats before him, but there is no scent nor sound of life from her. Neither challenger nor prey, yet a force of some kind that he cannot comprehend.

Part of him, deep within, says Eywa.

Not her. But something like.

The snarl fades and he licks at his muzzle, tasting the remnants of his prey, the bulk of it warm in his belly. A good meal, heavy enough to sate the fierce hunger, light enough not to slow him down. A gift? He sniffs, and tilts his head, not quite a bow but an impulse that feels right. Then he turns and slinks back into the cornfield, seeking a place to clean himself of prey-smells, and let the meal settle.