Difference between revisions of "Rescue From the Swamp Gatoress, Part Two - RPLOG"

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10/9/2016
 
10/9/2016
 
=Log=
 
=Log=
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<div></div><br> <br>With the air nearly thick enough to drink, and clouds of gnats and swamp gasses filling the space in between the densely-paced trees, the swamp was a very uninviting place. Not to mention it was crawling with tough mutants. the toughest, a feral gatoress, lived in a cave in the center. Inside that cave, the gatoress liked to capture and sexually torture victims until they were nearly feral with lust<br> <br>Inside, one such agent was currently bound. Galve was tied with a woven rope to a thick root by the metal collar around his neck, mindlessly trying to relieve the built up sexual tension constantly being dumped into his brain by the nanite-infused metal around his neck.<br> <br>The sky was clear. Too clear for the Storm Dragon&#39;s liking. And what wind existed wasn&#39;t blowing his direction. With his mutant sensitivity to the weather, he felt distinctly uncomfortable as he flew, beating his wings, working hard for altitude. The very air seemed laden with bad omens. There weren&#39;t many warm thermals at this hour, but Acetyl found one and took advantage of it, rising to a dizzying height very rapidly. Rolling his body sideways, the draconic mutant slid sideways in the air, moving off the thermal. As he felt himself beginning to fall, Acetyl locked the joints of his wings in a fully spread position, allowing himself to glide like a kite. Not for the first time, Acetyl was grateful that he was relatively small. If he were too much larger and heavier, he wouldn&#39;t have the stamina to fly as far as he needed to tonight, even though he would never have to leave the relative safety of the bubbles. Working his wings slightly to slow his rate of descent, Acetyl peered down, squinting his slit-pupiled eyes as he assessed the ground far below, trying to navigate. What he saw was correct, thank the Warden, and he nodded to himself. From this height, he should be able to mostly coast the rest of the way. No more exhausting flapping for now. He could reserve energy for the rest of the work ahead. Assuming nothing went wrong, of course. Acetyl sent a silent prayer to the Warden of Storms that he would not encounter any flighted ferals or other problems.
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<div></div>There didn&#39;t appear to be any kind of safeguards or failsafes. It was designed by a near-feral, after all, but it would have to be removed manually. But with Acetyl&#39;s lack of gender, it might be easier for him.....<br> <br>As his diagnostic nanoprograms began returning their results, Acetyl scanned the readout, eyes flicking rapidly as he read with concern. But none of his alarm triggers went off, and sighed with relief. The collar was a dangerous device, but it didn&#39;t seem to have any built-in traps set to spring on anyone who might try to remove it. Whomever created the thing was well down there on the sanity scale, but not as devious as Acetyl had feared. &quot;Thank the Warden and the twin moons of rose-litten Grokthir,&quot; he murmured, not aware he spoke aloud. Of course, there might be something he didn&#39;t have the ability to detect, but he&#39;d just have to take that risk. There was no choice. Flexing his hooked claws from their sheaths - he didn&#39;t want to handle the collar any more directly than he had to, lest it have a detrimental effect on his own nanites. Fully in control of himself and in his rational-scientist mode (or doing his best to be, at least) Acetyl was pretty sure he&#39;d be able to deal with whatever happened, but it was best to be cautious. With great care, Acetyl reached for the collar and began working to remove it from Galve&#39;s neck, handling it as gingerly as if it were a live scorpion that could sting at any moment.<br> <br>Galve&#39;s own movements didn&#39;t help anything, and he received several unfortunate nicks from the claws grabbing at the collar. Eventually though, the hidden catch popped open and the collar clattered to the ground, seeming to buzz like a nest of kicked wasps with nanites no longer having purpose, before settling down and returning to innate-looking metal. The bunny herm himself didn&#39;t seem to change much, although he did topple over backwards now that his collar and tether were gone, still working off the remaining lust in his system. But his eyes were no longer blankly staring. They were now filled with need, but a pleading need, as if to say &#39;help me&#39;.<br> <br>Meeting that helpless gaze filled the Storm Dragon with a wash of guilt. Getting axed by the lip of a big, cold Pacific wave didn&#39;t hit as hard. What have I done? But there was no time to indulge in agonizing at that moment. Acetyl knelt down beside Galve on the dirty cave floor, speaking low to the bunny herm&#39;s ear just in case there were any ferals nearby outside the cave who might hear and investigate. Or, worse, if the gatoress herself should be on her way back... &quot;Can you walk? I&#39;m gonna get you out of here, but we gotta paw it. I don&#39;t think I can fly with someone as big as you, even if I use a bigger form, at least not far enough to get us back to the Garden.&quot;<br> <br>Galve weakly nodded, then stifled a moan as he came all over his underside. Rolling over and standing on wobbly legs, the half-lapine stumbled over to a dark corner of the cave. Reeking of the gatoress, it clearly had to be where she did her more.... personal business when she didn&#39;t feel like leaving the cave. He retrieved from there a mass of torn fabric wrapped around a weighty bundle of stuff. His gear. &#39;L-lets go.... I&#39;m sick of this place....&#39; Galve muttered weakly, unwrapping the straps on the pack and heaving it onto his bare back with a wince as it landed heavily on the scars there. But they&#39;d have more time to worry about that later. For now, he suspected that the gatoress would be returning soon. &quot;Lead the way.&quot;<br> <br>The Storm Dragon nodded and moved to the front of the cave. Tufted ears flattened to his head, Acetyl peered into the swamp suspiciously, but detected nothing. Nothing too close, anyway. But the scents on the breeze and the distant sounds coming from all sides were ample proof that there were plenty of local ferals in the swamp. They&#39;d just have to do their best not to run into any of them. Galve clearly couldn&#39;t fight on his own yet, and Acetyl didn&#39;t want to try to fight while covering the bunny herm at the same time. He wasn&#39;t used to that fighting style and didn&#39;t know if he could pull it off with any degree of skill. At least the coast was clear for now. With a silent gesture Acetyl motioned as much to Galve, indicating to come to the front of the cave, too. &quot;Keep behind me as much as you can, but if we&#39;re attacked, hide. Go up a tree or something. I can&#39;t cover you and fight at the same time and the last thing I need is for another one of these swamp monsters to grab you.&quot;<br> <br>Galve nods, following behind Acetyl for a few moments, his overly large lapine feet dragging slightly in the mud as he walked. Other than the wet squelching of their feet, the only other noises about were those of the gnats buzzing in their ears and the rustle of the occasional feral in the bushes, regarding whether or not they were worth bothering. Then Galve&#39;s foot made contact with something hard and solid lying just below the surface of the mud, causing him to yelp in pain as his toe was jammed violently despite his best attempts to stifle it.<br> <br>At first, they made reasonable time, considering the situation. This kind of terrain was not the sort Acetyl was familiar with, but the Storm Dragon was still able to generalize much of the stealth and survival skills he&#39;d learned in the redwood forests along the California coast, then honed in the taming of Xanadu Gardens. He moved on all fours sometimes, bipedally others, as seemed more efficient from moment to moment. Clambering over a nest of fallen logs was best done on all fours, but he rose to his hind legs to scent the air and listen, and to stride through more open areas, placing his hind paws with unconscious, practiced care. Acetyl did his best to guide Galve, as well, but unfortunately the storm dragon was not used to doing things like this in the company of other agents. Much of his work was done on a solo basis, and his group operations had been done in less overgrown situations. So when Galve, still suffering from his experiences in the cave and the effects of the collar so recently removed, stubbed his toe and yelped, Acetyl flinched but bit his tongue to stifle the rebuke he would otherwise have spat at the other agent. Galve probably didn&#39;t know the wilderness as well as Acetyl did - and even if he did, he was not exactly in top condition right now. From the hush that dropped over their surroundings as Galve&#39;s cry faded into silence, Acetyl knew they were in trouble. Ears flexed, held high to catch any sound, &#39;Cet gestured at Galve over his shoulder, without looking back at the bunny herm. Hissing low, as quietly as he could while still being sure he&#39;d be heard, the Storm Dragon ordered, &quot;Hide! Something&#39;s coming.&quot;<br> <br>Galve had barely remained standing after the bolt of pain that had shot up his leg. Halfway to his knees, he blindly felt for the object he&#39;d kicked, half-suspecting he knew what it was. Wrenching the dirty oaken staff from the mud, he hurriedly propped himself up on it and hobbled quickly to Acetyl&#39;s position, the extraplanar energies eminating from the stave seeped into Acetyl, making the oppressive heat of the swamp air diminish somewhat.<br> <br>Worried about approaching ferals, Acetyl at first doesn&#39;t notice Galve approaching. When the other comes within a few feet of the Storm Dragon, though, he senses the bunny&#39;s physical proximity and looks around sharply. The slightly bioluminescent, golden-bronze eyes narrow in displeasure, and Acetyl starts to snap at Galve. &quot;Oi, unless you&#39;re up to defending yourself - &quot; Then he notices the staff and blinks, interrupting himself. &quot;Where&#39;d you get that? Just found it here?&quot; He frowns at the obvious extraplanar nature of the object. Its aura is palpable, although it doesn&#39;t - thankfully - appear to be one of the objects spoken of in the pages of the great necromantic tome. That would have been a disturbing occurrance, and a downright bad omen to boot.  
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Stimulants crackled in his bloodstream, lending aid to his laboring muscles and clarifying his mind at the same time. As he flew, Acetyl&#39;s mind cranked along, calculating as quickly as it could without succumbing to panic. He was doing his best not to panic. That wouldn&#39;t help at all. That sort of bestial thinking was what got you in this mess to begin with, Acetyl scolded himself. Taking refuge in the cold logic of his more rational aspect, the Storm Dragon growled to himself, shaking off the anxiety, though he still felt a small, chill spot in the pit of his guts, as if a tiny creature made of pure fear had burrowed into his insides. That same troublesome, emotional, wild part of his mind kept ranting and howling in the background, throwing blame every which way. It was his own fault for losing control. It was Zephyr&#39;s fault, with their damned combat drugs and their damned lax oversight. Of course, he knew better. Zephyr&#39;s oversight wasn&#39;t at all lax, not really. And he wasn&#39;t merely being indulged. They were studying him, that was all, and so long as he didn&#39;t become too troublesome, they wouldn&#39;t interfere with him, at least not outside the confines of carefully designed experiments and &#39;missions&#39;. Because that would taint their observations and bias their results. Acetyl was a scientist himself. He understood.
 
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%f He also understood what would happen if he did step across that hidden, invisible line, the one labeled &#39;You&#39;ve Gone Too Far&#39;. He would probably not be killed unless he gave them no choice. Human life, even mutant human life, was too precious these days. But he would no longer have even the pretense of being an agent in the field. He would be a prized lab animal... if he was lucky. He didn&#39;t want to think about the less savory possibilities.
 
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And this time, it wasn&#39;t mere killing. He&#39;d screwed up much worse than that. He&#39;d descended into a state of almost pure ferality for several hours the other day, and when he came back to himself, he discovered that he&#39;d done terrible things while under. It was only after Acetyl had fled the scene that he realized just -how- bad what he&#39;d done was.
 
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Acetyl swallowed, willing himself to focus. First things first. For now, he needed to get ahold of the agent he&#39;d victimized. Not only for his own reasons, but because the kemo bunny herm had been a victim of opportunity. Someone else had captured the kemo, probably a feral gatoress by the smell of the cave where Acetyl had found the bound, sexually abused mutant. What he himself had done was bad enough, but the gatoress would probably destroy the kemo bunny&#39;s sanity if left to her own devices. Acetyl owed the bunny a rescue, if nothing else.
 
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Acetyl spotted the cave a few miles ahead and banked, sliding sideways in the air. His shoulders and back muscles ached with exhaustion even though he was a very skilled and able flyer. He was glad to land soon. They&#39;d have to get out on foot, anyway - he couldn&#39;t fly carrying someone else, not unless they were much smaller than Acetyl remembered the kemo being. Finding himself heading toward a tall tree, Acetyl grabbed a handy branch with his clawed hands, flipping his wings to his back instantly to keep them from snagging on other branches in the tree. He rested for a few minutes, breathing hard, but as slow and quiet as he could, to keep from drawing too much attention. He was very still. Then, when he felt rested enough, the Storm Dragon climbed down from the tree and prowled the last mile or two through the swamp. He could probably defeat most of the nasty things here, but he didn&#39;t have time or energy to waste tangling with them. Acetyl had a self-imposed mission here.
 
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There it was. The cave loomed ahead. Acetyl smelled his own presence, a couple of days ago, plus the heavier, lived-in musk of the gatoress, and the thinner, weaker scent of the bunny herm. Gritting his teeth, Acetyl licked at his tusk-like lower canines in anxiety, then prowled on all fours into the cave, senses open for any sign that the gatoress might be at home. He was resigned to the likelihood of a confrontation with her at some point, but hoped it wouldn&#39;t be now...<br> <br>It seemed as if the gatoress had been there between now and then but she was gone at the moment. Her presence was apparent by the rope now binding Galve in place, and some fading bruises on his hindquarters where he had probably been punished. The bunny herm was currently in the middle of pawing himself off, one wrapped around his cock and the other wrist-deep in his recently-stretched cooch as he stared blankly into the distance, his eyes and any sign of intelligence clouded by lust and his collar.<br> <br>Moving with every bit of cautious stealth he could muster, the once-again-sexless mutant was inexpressibly grateful that the genitals he&#39;d unexpectedly developed the other day had gone away when he returned to his senses and activated his Nanite Adept programming. The smell of sex and fear was rank in the cave. If Acetyl still had genitals, he might have found it more difficult to resist the ravening instincts that those scents teased out of his mutated brain. As it was, his willpower was still tested, but in a way that Acetyl was now well-practiced in ignoring. Luckily, the feral gatoress didn&#39;t seem to be present. Peering around a bend in the cave into the depths of the gatoress&#39;s lair, where the bunny herm had been kept before, Acetyl was relieved to find the bunny in the same place.
 
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%f He wasn&#39;t as happy when he discerned the kemo&#39;s current state of mind. He felt a little guilty, knowing his own feral lapse had contributed to this person&#39;s degeneration - but in truth, it was hard to wholly blame himself for this part of it. After all, it was pretty obvious that the gatoress had been going out of her way to reduce her captive to her own state of wild hedonistic abandon. (&#39;Cet realized he was feeling envious as he considered the ferals&#39; lifestyle, and quickly squelched the emotion as too dangerous to indulge.) Most ferals liked to infect others. Not just with their form, but also with their madness. This seemed to be a pretty typical case, in that respect. Still, Acetyl was personally involved this time, which interfered with his ability to keep his emotions at a cool, professional distance. He sighed. Clearly, there was no time to lose. The longer he waited, the more damage would be done to the agent&#39;s mind.
 
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Approaching Galve, padded hands and feet moving in near-silence across the cave floor, Acetyl reared to his hind legs beside the bound kemo. Closing his eyes in concentration for a moment, Acetyl activated his NICE unit and initialized the Emotional Aura programming. Within seconds, Galve&#39;s nanites received a strong signal instructing them to tone down the kemo&#39;s sex drive and dampen any fear he might feel. The code contained a timer, though, allowing it to execute over a few minutes rather than trying to rewrite Galve&#39;s mental and biochemical condition as fast as possible. Not only was this easier to accomplish as a timed effect, but Acetyl needed Galve to be as clear-minded as possible if the two of them were to get out of the swamp alive and sane. Acetyl knew he could get himself out, but he needed to get Galve out too, and sending the other agent into shock with clumsy nanomagic wouldn&#39;t help at all.<br> <br>(The specific emotion being sent is serenity or calmness.)<br> <br>While Galve&#39;s nanites began their work, his actions continued. The programmed nanites in the collar were now at war with the nanomagic eminating from Acetyl. A surge from the collar brought Galve to a forced orgasm, and it backwashed up the nanomagic pathway. And it didn&#39;t seem to have made a single bit of difference as Galve just kept on masturbating.<br> <br>Acetyl&#39;s slit-pupiled eyes, with their molten metallic golden-bronze irises, gave off a distinct bioluminescent glow here in the darkness of the cave. There was a slight flickering quality to the glow, as if it were powered by a varying flow of electricity. Acetyl squinted at the results, as if he&#39;d found an unexpected bug in his code. Fortunately, of his two &#39;day jobs&#39; in Clairmont, the one he thought of as his &#39;real&#39; job was researching and designing nanomagic. So it didn&#39;t take the nanomage long to figure out the cause of the problem. His lips twitched over his fangs, revealing those long tusk-like fangs in his lower jaw. That was a pretty sophisticated device for a feral to be using. It implied that the gatoress who laired here was more than just a garden-variety feral. Perhaps a Promethean agent who&#39;d fallen back into a wild, nanite-maddened state. It was a disturbing thought. Acetyl decided not to think about that for now. Instead he focused back on the collar itself, leaning in close to examine it as best he could without touching it. His fingers twitched against the input panel of his comm unit as he activated another set of pre-coded instructions, attempting to communicate with the nanites in the collar, to obtain information about any security routines or safeguards that might be coded into the collar&#39;s nanites in addition to their primary function of - apparently - driving their victim insane with lust. (Come to think of it, who&#39;d make such a thing, anyway? Might as well just call it the Feralifying Collar, Acetyl thought.)<br> <br>There didn&#39;t appear to be any kind of safeguards or failsafes. It was designed by a near-feral, after all, but it would have to be removed manually. But with Acetyl&#39;s lack of gender, it might be easier for him.....<br> <br>As his diagnostic nanoprograms began returning their results, Acetyl scanned the readout, eyes flicking rapidly as he read with concern. But none of his alarm triggers went off, and sighed with relief. The collar was a dangerous device, but it didn&#39;t seem to have any built-in traps set to spring on anyone who might try to remove it. Whomever created the thing was well down there on the sanity scale, but not as devious as Acetyl had feared. &quot;Thank the Warden and the twin moons of rose-litten Grokthir,&quot; he murmured, not aware he spoke aloud. Of course, there might be something he didn&#39;t have the ability to detect, but he&#39;d just have to take that risk. There was no choice. Flexing his hooked claws from their sheaths - he didn&#39;t want to handle the collar any more directly than he had to, lest it have a detrimental effect on his own nanites. Fully in control of himself and in his rational-scientist mode (or doing his best to be, at least) Acetyl was pretty sure he&#39;d be able to deal with whatever happened, but it was best to be cautious. With great care, Acetyl reached for the collar and began working to remove it from Galve&#39;s neck, handling it as gingerly as if it were a live scorpion that could sting at any moment.<br> <br>Galve&#39;s own movements didn&#39;t help anything, and he received several unfortunate nicks from the claws grabbing at the collar. Eventually though, the hidden catch popped open and the collar clattered to the ground, seeming to buzz like a nest of kicked wasps with nanites no longer having purpose, before settling down and returning to innate-looking metal. The bunny herm himself didn&#39;t seem to change much, although he did topple over backwards now that his collar and tether were gone, still working off the remaining lust in his system. But his eyes were no longer blankly staring. They were now filled with need, but a pleading need, as if to say &#39;help me&#39;.<br> <br>Meeting that helpless gaze filled the Storm Dragon with a wash of guilt. Getting axed by the lip of a big, cold Pacific wave didn&#39;t hit as hard. What have I done? But there was no time to indulge in agonizing at that moment. Acetyl knelt down beside Galve on the dirty cave floor, speaking low to the bunny herm&#39;s ear just in case there were any ferals nearby outside the cave who might hear and investigate. Or, worse, if the gatoress herself should be on her way back... &quot;Can you walk? I&#39;m gonna get you out of here, but we gotta paw it. I don&#39;t think I can fly with someone as big as you, even if I use a bigger form, at least not far enough to get us back to the Garden.&quot;<br> <br>Galve weakly nodded, then stifled a moan as he came all over his underside. Rolling over and standing on wobbly legs, the half-lapine stumbled over to a dark corner of the cave. Reeking of the gatoress, it clearly had to be where she did her more.... personal business when she didn&#39;t feel like leaving the cave. He retrieved from there a mass of torn fabric wrapped around a weighty bundle of stuff. His gear. &#39;L-lets go.... I&#39;m sick of this place....&#39; Galve muttered weakly, unwrapping the straps on the pack and heaving it onto his bare back with a wince as it landed heavily on the scars there. But they&#39;d have more time to worry about that later. For now, he suspected that the gatoress would be returning soon. &quot;Lead the way.&quot;<br> <br>The Storm Dragon nodded and moved to the front of the cave. Tufted ears flattened to his head, Acetyl peered into the swamp suspiciously, but detected nothing. Nothing too close, anyway. But the scents on the breeze and the distant sounds coming from all sides were ample proof that there were plenty of local ferals in the swamp. They&#39;d just have to do their best not to run into any of them. Galve clearly couldn&#39;t fight on his own yet, and Acetyl didn&#39;t want to try to fight while covering the bunny herm at the same time. He wasn&#39;t used to that fighting style and didn&#39;t know if he could pull it off with any degree of skill. At least the coast was clear for now. With a silent gesture Acetyl motioned as much to Galve, indicating to come to the front of the cave, too. &quot;Keep behind me as much as you can, but if we&#39;re attacked, hide. Go up a tree or something. I can&#39;t cover you and fight at the same time and the last thing I need is for another one of these swamp monsters to grab you.&quot;<br> <br>Galve nods, following behind Acetyl for a few moments, his overly large lapine feet dragging slightly in the mud as he walked. Other than the wet squelching of their feet, the only other noises about were those of the gnats buzzing in their ears and the rustle of the occasional feral in the bushes, regarding whether or not they were worth bothering. Then Galve&#39;s foot made contact with something hard and solid lying just below the surface of the mud, causing him to yelp in pain as his toe was jammed violently despite his best attempts to stifle it.<br> <br>At first, they made reasonable time, considering the situation. This kind of terrain was not the sort Acetyl was familiar with, but the Storm Dragon was still able to generalize much of the stealth and survival skills he&#39;d learned in the redwood forests along the California coast, then honed in the taming of Xanadu Gardens. He moved on all fours sometimes, bipedally others, as seemed more efficient from moment to moment. Clambering over a nest of fallen logs was best done on all fours, but he rose to his hind legs to scent the air and listen, and to stride through more open areas, placing his hind paws with unconscious, practiced care. Acetyl did his best to guide Galve, as well, but unfortunately the storm dragon was not used to doing things like this in the company of other agents. Much of his work was done on a solo basis, and his group operations had been done in less overgrown situations. So when Galve, still suffering from his experiences in the cave and the effects of the collar so recently removed, stubbed his toe and yelped, Acetyl flinched but bit his tongue to stifle the rebuke he would otherwise have spat at the other agent. Galve probably didn&#39;t know the wilderness as well as Acetyl did - and even if he did, he was not exactly in top condition right now. From the hush that dropped over their surroundings as Galve&#39;s cry faded into silence, Acetyl knew they were in trouble. Ears flexed, held high to catch any sound, &#39;Cet gestured at Galve over his shoulder, without looking back at the bunny herm. Hissing low, as quietly as he could while still being sure he&#39;d be heard, the Storm Dragon ordered, &quot;Hide! Something&#39;s coming.&quot;<br> <br>Galve had barely remained standing after the bolt of pain that had shot up his leg. Halfway to his knees, he blindly felt for the object he&#39;d kicked, half-suspecting he knew what it was. Wrenching the dirty oaken staff from the mud, he hurriedly propped himself up on it and hobbled quickly to Acetyl&#39;s position, the extraplanar energies eminating from the stave seeped into Acetyl, making the oppressive heat of the swamp air diminish somewhat.<br> <br>Worried about approaching ferals, Acetyl at first doesn&#39;t notice Galve approaching. When the other comes within a few feet of the Storm Dragon, though, he senses the bunny&#39;s physical proximity and looks around sharply. The slightly bioluminescent, golden-bronze eyes narrow in displeasure, and Acetyl starts to snap at Galve. &quot;Oi, unless you&#39;re up to defending yourself - &quot; Then he notices the staff and blinks, interrupting himself. &quot;Where&#39;d you get that? Just found it here?&quot; He frowns at the obvious extraplanar nature of the object. Its aura is palpable, although it doesn&#39;t - thankfully - appear to be one of the objects spoken of in the pages of the great necromantic tome. That would have been a disturbing occurrance, and a downright bad omen to boot.  
 
  
 
Acetyl almost winced, thinking of that unholy-yet-sacred Book, and the possible consequences of the things he&#39;d drawn on Galve&#39;s back. The fact that they had scarred over instead of being healed away to nothing by Galve&#39;s nanites was not a good sign at all. It implied that he&#39;d conducted a true ritual while in that maddened state, not merely scrawled on Galve&#39;s back out of a dark desire to shed blood. Knowing himself and his own dark side, he wasn&#39;t fool enough to think that such simple urges and needs weren&#39;t part of it. They were probably the original inspiration to claw-draw in the first place.  
 
Acetyl almost winced, thinking of that unholy-yet-sacred Book, and the possible consequences of the things he&#39;d drawn on Galve&#39;s back. The fact that they had scarred over instead of being healed away to nothing by Galve&#39;s nanites was not a good sign at all. It implied that he&#39;d conducted a true ritual while in that maddened state, not merely scrawled on Galve&#39;s back out of a dark desire to shed blood. Knowing himself and his own dark side, he wasn&#39;t fool enough to think that such simple urges and needs weren&#39;t part of it. They were probably the original inspiration to claw-draw in the first place.  

Revision as of 08:52, 13 September 2016

Participants

Date

10/9/2016

Log

There didn't appear to be any kind of safeguards or failsafes. It was designed by a near-feral, after all, but it would have to be removed manually. But with Acetyl's lack of gender, it might be easier for him.....

As his diagnostic nanoprograms began returning their results, Acetyl scanned the readout, eyes flicking rapidly as he read with concern. But none of his alarm triggers went off, and sighed with relief. The collar was a dangerous device, but it didn't seem to have any built-in traps set to spring on anyone who might try to remove it. Whomever created the thing was well down there on the sanity scale, but not as devious as Acetyl had feared. "Thank the Warden and the twin moons of rose-litten Grokthir," he murmured, not aware he spoke aloud. Of course, there might be something he didn't have the ability to detect, but he'd just have to take that risk. There was no choice. Flexing his hooked claws from their sheaths - he didn't want to handle the collar any more directly than he had to, lest it have a detrimental effect on his own nanites. Fully in control of himself and in his rational-scientist mode (or doing his best to be, at least) Acetyl was pretty sure he'd be able to deal with whatever happened, but it was best to be cautious. With great care, Acetyl reached for the collar and began working to remove it from Galve's neck, handling it as gingerly as if it were a live scorpion that could sting at any moment.

Galve's own movements didn't help anything, and he received several unfortunate nicks from the claws grabbing at the collar. Eventually though, the hidden catch popped open and the collar clattered to the ground, seeming to buzz like a nest of kicked wasps with nanites no longer having purpose, before settling down and returning to innate-looking metal. The bunny herm himself didn't seem to change much, although he did topple over backwards now that his collar and tether were gone, still working off the remaining lust in his system. But his eyes were no longer blankly staring. They were now filled with need, but a pleading need, as if to say 'help me'.

Meeting that helpless gaze filled the Storm Dragon with a wash of guilt. Getting axed by the lip of a big, cold Pacific wave didn't hit as hard. What have I done? But there was no time to indulge in agonizing at that moment. Acetyl knelt down beside Galve on the dirty cave floor, speaking low to the bunny herm's ear just in case there were any ferals nearby outside the cave who might hear and investigate. Or, worse, if the gatoress herself should be on her way back... "Can you walk? I'm gonna get you out of here, but we gotta paw it. I don't think I can fly with someone as big as you, even if I use a bigger form, at least not far enough to get us back to the Garden."

Galve weakly nodded, then stifled a moan as he came all over his underside. Rolling over and standing on wobbly legs, the half-lapine stumbled over to a dark corner of the cave. Reeking of the gatoress, it clearly had to be where she did her more.... personal business when she didn't feel like leaving the cave. He retrieved from there a mass of torn fabric wrapped around a weighty bundle of stuff. His gear. 'L-lets go.... I'm sick of this place....' Galve muttered weakly, unwrapping the straps on the pack and heaving it onto his bare back with a wince as it landed heavily on the scars there. But they'd have more time to worry about that later. For now, he suspected that the gatoress would be returning soon. "Lead the way."

The Storm Dragon nodded and moved to the front of the cave. Tufted ears flattened to his head, Acetyl peered into the swamp suspiciously, but detected nothing. Nothing too close, anyway. But the scents on the breeze and the distant sounds coming from all sides were ample proof that there were plenty of local ferals in the swamp. They'd just have to do their best not to run into any of them. Galve clearly couldn't fight on his own yet, and Acetyl didn't want to try to fight while covering the bunny herm at the same time. He wasn't used to that fighting style and didn't know if he could pull it off with any degree of skill. At least the coast was clear for now. With a silent gesture Acetyl motioned as much to Galve, indicating to come to the front of the cave, too. "Keep behind me as much as you can, but if we're attacked, hide. Go up a tree or something. I can't cover you and fight at the same time and the last thing I need is for another one of these swamp monsters to grab you."

Galve nods, following behind Acetyl for a few moments, his overly large lapine feet dragging slightly in the mud as he walked. Other than the wet squelching of their feet, the only other noises about were those of the gnats buzzing in their ears and the rustle of the occasional feral in the bushes, regarding whether or not they were worth bothering. Then Galve's foot made contact with something hard and solid lying just below the surface of the mud, causing him to yelp in pain as his toe was jammed violently despite his best attempts to stifle it.

At first, they made reasonable time, considering the situation. This kind of terrain was not the sort Acetyl was familiar with, but the Storm Dragon was still able to generalize much of the stealth and survival skills he'd learned in the redwood forests along the California coast, then honed in the taming of Xanadu Gardens. He moved on all fours sometimes, bipedally others, as seemed more efficient from moment to moment. Clambering over a nest of fallen logs was best done on all fours, but he rose to his hind legs to scent the air and listen, and to stride through more open areas, placing his hind paws with unconscious, practiced care. Acetyl did his best to guide Galve, as well, but unfortunately the storm dragon was not used to doing things like this in the company of other agents. Much of his work was done on a solo basis, and his group operations had been done in less overgrown situations. So when Galve, still suffering from his experiences in the cave and the effects of the collar so recently removed, stubbed his toe and yelped, Acetyl flinched but bit his tongue to stifle the rebuke he would otherwise have spat at the other agent. Galve probably didn't know the wilderness as well as Acetyl did - and even if he did, he was not exactly in top condition right now. From the hush that dropped over their surroundings as Galve's cry faded into silence, Acetyl knew they were in trouble. Ears flexed, held high to catch any sound, 'Cet gestured at Galve over his shoulder, without looking back at the bunny herm. Hissing low, as quietly as he could while still being sure he'd be heard, the Storm Dragon ordered, "Hide! Something's coming."

Galve had barely remained standing after the bolt of pain that had shot up his leg. Halfway to his knees, he blindly felt for the object he'd kicked, half-suspecting he knew what it was. Wrenching the dirty oaken staff from the mud, he hurriedly propped himself up on it and hobbled quickly to Acetyl's position, the extraplanar energies eminating from the stave seeped into Acetyl, making the oppressive heat of the swamp air diminish somewhat.

Worried about approaching ferals, Acetyl at first doesn't notice Galve approaching. When the other comes within a few feet of the Storm Dragon, though, he senses the bunny's physical proximity and looks around sharply. The slightly bioluminescent, golden-bronze eyes narrow in displeasure, and Acetyl starts to snap at Galve. "Oi, unless you're up to defending yourself - " Then he notices the staff and blinks, interrupting himself. "Where'd you get that? Just found it here?" He frowns at the obvious extraplanar nature of the object. Its aura is palpable, although it doesn't - thankfully - appear to be one of the objects spoken of in the pages of the great necromantic tome. That would have been a disturbing occurrance, and a downright bad omen to boot.

Acetyl almost winced, thinking of that unholy-yet-sacred Book, and the possible consequences of the things he'd drawn on Galve's back. The fact that they had scarred over instead of being healed away to nothing by Galve's nanites was not a good sign at all. It implied that he'd conducted a true ritual while in that maddened state, not merely scrawled on Galve's back out of a dark desire to shed blood. Knowing himself and his own dark side, he wasn't fool enough to think that such simple urges and needs weren't part of it. They were probably the original inspiration to claw-draw in the first place.

But clearly, it had become something more. Certain sigils had been inscribed which spelled out statements, and spells. And worse, some of them were questions. Worst of all, the last ones indicated that those questions had been answered. At this point, Acetyl could no longer read, at a glance, the full depth of meaning of everything he'd cut into the bunny herm's back. Which was why it was so critical to get Galve and himself both out of here alive, intact, and sane. Acetyl had to study the Book and related, lesser occult texts, and the scarification itself, in order to figure out just what exactly he'd done. It could be nothing more than dark, unsettling prophecies meant to happen in a thousand years, or weird hints about a hideous antiquity. The Book and its associated materials were full of such things.

Yet there were uglier possibilities. Some very, very ugly indeed. Though he worshipped the Book and had no fundamental ethical problem with being involved with such things, it was one thing to face the shadowy places of the world calm and in control and quite another to draw down dooms from the black places between the stars without having any idea of what you were doing or why. That was a good way to get -everybody- in a good deal of trouble. Acetyl didn't want to die. Nor did he particularly want to destroy the world or release hideous unnamable Things locked up in metaphysical prisons to protect the relatively sane and meek life of this world or any of the other horrific possibilities currently worrying at his mind...

Acetyl realized his mind was wandering, and shook his heavy, broad-muzzled head to try to clear it. He had been lost in thought only a few seconds, but to him, it seemed like a dangerous lapse in this threatening place. Acetyl felt desperately homesick for his beautiful Garden. Even his bland apartment at Zephyr HQ seemed like a haven at that moment. "Doesn't matter, I s'pose. Just watch out. Something heard you. We may have to fight our way out of here over the last stretch."

"This? I lost it when I came here. I'm honestly glad to see it again...." Galve says, trying to remain hushed. He honestly couldn't remember when he got this beauty of a walking stick but it seemed nigh indestructible and was excellent for whacking ferals senseless with. Sometimes it even did extraordinary things.

"Whatever you want to do, I don't care. Let's just get out of here...." Galve muttered, looking about warily. The scent of a rather large and angry feral was getting heavier. It smelled like cuddling blood and the fear of consumed prey... but was distinctly male. So it couldn't be the gatoress. Galve wasn't even sure his mysterious ally could handle her...

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