Anime titles are for people with emotions? Exclamation marks create dramatic tension!
Who: Scyther, Xatu
What: miiiiindfuck Kick some ancient mind-warping horror ass together like the pokeninjas they are.
Where: FDC Museum of Natural History
When: After the fight with Ridley but before the Band of the Hawke battle.
This was not something Xatu was looking forward to.
War was a trial in every sense of the word -- it pushed you to your physical limit, bled you dry mentally, and scraped your emotions raw. It was safe to say that Xatu didn't have it as hard as some of the other people of Sumabura, at least. His foresight had promised that he would live through this, and he was surprisingly pristine still; although one sleeve of his coat was torn and stained an alarming red near the shoulder, the garment was surprisingly free of dirt and Aparoid bits. His psychic abilities had enabled him to take out most of the Aparoid grunts from a distance, and teleportation made it hard for the enemy to get in close. The downside was that it was very draining. Too much use, and even the things that usually came naturally became difficult to employ. He was built for brief contest performances, not an unrelenting gauntlet of drones. Frankly, Xatu needed a break.
It was to that end that he had taken shelter in the museum's front entrance. The place had been locked up during evacuation, but it looked as though something very large and heavy had introduced itself to the doors several times. Xatu had no trouble stepping past their battered remnants of. The building was dark, silent, and still quite clean; it was a welcome contrast from the battleground outside. This would do nicely... for the time being, anyways.
What: miiiiindfuck Kick some ancient mind-warping horror ass together like the pokeninjas they are.
Where: FDC Museum of Natural History
When: After the fight with Ridley but before the Band of the Hawke battle.
This was not something Xatu was looking forward to.
War was a trial in every sense of the word -- it pushed you to your physical limit, bled you dry mentally, and scraped your emotions raw. It was safe to say that Xatu didn't have it as hard as some of the other people of Sumabura, at least. His foresight had promised that he would live through this, and he was surprisingly pristine still; although one sleeve of his coat was torn and stained an alarming red near the shoulder, the garment was surprisingly free of dirt and Aparoid bits. His psychic abilities had enabled him to take out most of the Aparoid grunts from a distance, and teleportation made it hard for the enemy to get in close. The downside was that it was very draining. Too much use, and even the things that usually came naturally became difficult to employ. He was built for brief contest performances, not an unrelenting gauntlet of drones. Frankly, Xatu needed a break.
It was to that end that he had taken shelter in the museum's front entrance. The place had been locked up during evacuation, but it looked as though something very large and heavy had introduced itself to the doors several times. Xatu had no trouble stepping past their battered remnants of. The building was dark, silent, and still quite clean; it was a welcome contrast from the battleground outside. This would do nicely... for the time being, anyways.