Rescue From the Swamp Gatoress Part Three - RPLOG
Participants
Date
11/9/2016
Log
A hot, harsh, reptilian smell was riding the wind. From the look in Galve's eye, the bunny herm could smell it too. Acetyl realized his teeth were bared unconsciously, and his hooked claws were flexing from their sheaths. Having hunted by the river many a time, and spent his share of time in the sewers as well, the Storm Dragon recognized the trace of a feral Male Gator. Automatically, survival knowledge and defensive instincts kicked in, and he turned from the kemo agent, snuffing deeply at the air for more information. He wished he had that detection nanomagic, but he'd have to rely on his senses. Fortunately, as a Storm Dragon, his senses of smell and hearing were better than a 'pure' human's would have been, but he still felt tense and very aware of being out of his element while his enemy was on home ground.
Well... kind of. Gator mutants were not normally found in this swamp. It was a place of crystalline birds and hungry lamias, among odder things. But not gators. Probably, it had once been an avian or a lamia, or one of the other usual natives of the region. But the gatoress had infected it, changed it to be like herself. That was what ferals did, after all. They...
And then he spotted it. Acetyl froze, every muscle locked, ready for instant action but unsure of what action to take yet. He couldn't see the whole gator. It was just a single slitted, dull golden eye. Peering at them from the vegetation. Holding still as death itself. Instinctively, Acetyl could tell it had been setting up an ambush, preparing to either leap out at Acetyl and Galve as they walked past its hiding place, or else creep up on them as they hesitated. As he became aware of the proximity of danger, Acetyl's fur-like strands began to puff out, revealing the surfaces of the scales from which the long 'hairs' sprouted. Sparks and small bolts of electricity began to crackle through the Storm Dragon's charged coat as his Electric Aura activated. Acetyl's nanites recognized Galve as nonthreatening, so he was not shocked, but it was clear that touching the storm dragon right now would be a bad idea. That weirder, darker aura around 'Cet also grew in intensity, possibly unsettling Galve with its strong feelings of unnaturalness - the distinctive presence of things not merely not of this world, but that which should not be, period. "There's the bastard," he rumbled under his breath, growling the words more than speaking them, making them harder to understand, but still comprehensible for Galve, being one who was used to hearing mutants speak. "If we get too far apart he'll try to snatch one of us. Act strong," Acetyl added. He spoke without looking at Galve, all attention fixed on that glaring, watchful eye.
Acetyl began to move again, deliberately looking away from the spot as if he had seen nothing, knowing the Male Gator was probably not fooled in the slightest. But the act was part of the game. He had to feign ignorance to see how the Gator would react... and in turn, the Gator would make a choice, to see how he, Acetyl, would react. He'd just have to do his best to think ahead of the Gator. Normally, he'd have no hesitation about his ability to do so... but he didn't have only his own ass on the line here. He had to include Galve in his calculus, and that was an unfamiliar element. Plus, he hadn't brought Iatro, and now he was realizing what a mistake that was. The little golem had proven its worth time and again and was more than capable of taking care of itself. Its senses, and combat abilities, would have been very helpful just then. But he hadn't wanted to involve Iatro in this, any more than he'd wanted to involve any of the other agents with whom he was friendly. This was his mistake, his mess to clean up. Still, he couldn't help missing Iatro, wishing the medical nanite golem was present.
As if aware of being stalked but unaware of the precise location of the Gator, Acetyl began to move again, angling them through the foliage so as not to present too tempting a target without being too obvious in his avoidance of the gator. His ears flexed back, listening for the telltale sounds of pursuit... not that there was any chance the gator would NOT pursue. Rather, 'Cet wanted to track its movements by sound as a way of trying to predict its next move. His gut felt like a knot of copulating earthworms.
As the storm dragon bristled with his agressive auras, Galve braved the auras to put himself closer to his rescuer. Still limping, he contiued to lean heavily on his stave. "J-just lead the way, I'll... be right beside you." Galve muttered in an attempt at bravery.
Thankfully, the Electric Aura was nanite-controlled. Thus, although the crackling sparks that leapt now and then from the draconic mutant's fur would occasionally sting the kemo due to simple proximity, Acetyl's nanites did not specifically target Galve, making him mostly safe from the tame lightning that hissed and spit among the storm dragon's fur like serpents of electricity. The Unnatural Presence brought on by his being an acolyte of the book of necromancy, however, had no such scruples. The closer Galve drew to Acetyl, the more he would be affected by it. Thanks to the scratchings on his back, the affect would be a little unusual, though... instead of being totally repelled and disturbed as a normal person might, Galve experiences both repellence and an inexplicable draw, a fascination he cannot begin to explain yet feels just as strongly as he does the aversion and horror which the aura normally cause. Galve doesn't really know this person he's with, has no idea of his intentions, and the aura only reinforces that. Yet it also reinforces the feeling that Acetyl is a person of compelling interest, at the very time as it makes him seem like a potential threat.
Of course, whatever subtle suggestion of menace may hang around Acetyl, there was the very direct and obvious menace posed by the stalking gator, which may well have influenced Galve's assessment of the situation.
And as Acetyl had predicted to himself, the gator had not gone away. Acetyl's ears twitched but remained pricked, turned up and backward instead of flattening against his skull. The gator was a skilled hunter, far more so than the ferals native to this place. Acetyl was still fairly confident he could defeat the thing, but he knew he'd probably have to get ugly to do it - not a prospect he looked forward to at all, with Galve present. It was pretty obvious that the bunny herm didn't really remember Acetyl, at least not as the one who'd raped him and cut his back up while he was bound in the cave a few days ago. Acetyl worried that Galve's memory might be triggered if he were to witness Acetyl being so feral. Worse, it might bring out the imposed ferality that Galve had only recently escaped. Worst, Acetyl didn't fully trust himself anymore. If he allowed himself to fight as freely as he might, what if he didn't come down after the gator fell or fled? What might be do then...? He'd already made a mess of this situation. He couldn't afford to complicate it even further.
But he might not have a choice. They were within a few minutes' brisk walk of the edge of the swamp. So close, yet it might as well have been miles with the gator on their backs. Acetyl knew the gator would make his move before they were out of the dense tangle of trees and fetid water that were the swamp. He almost wanted to whip around and charge the creature, to deny it the opportunity to make a move on its own time, and if he'd been alone he would have. Part of Acetyl was getting restless and edgy, the too-ready anger emerging from the place Acetyl usually kept it in the back of his mind. He realized he was hoping for the gator's attack now, not trying to avoid it but preparing for it. That wouldn't do. Acetyl ground his teeth. The smell of the gator triggered the savage side of the Storm Dragon infection, priming him to do battle with a rival predator. He couldn't afford to indulge his instincts. He had to get out of here, and get the kemo bunny to somewhere safe where he could study and think.
An idea occurred to Acetyl, suddenly. They were so close... It would require trusting Galve not to run off on him, of course, but he was pretty sure the bunny wouldn't do that. If he did... well, Acetyl would have to solve that if it happened. But for the moment, if this worked... "Oi. Bunny. Can you run yet? Zig-zag, live fire training style?"
"I-I think so...." Galve said, putting weight back onto his jammed foot and finding that his nanites had either dulled the pain, killed the nerves, or fixed the problem. Either way, he was in mostly working order physically. "W-where are we going?"
Knowing he didn't have much time to explain, Acetyl shook his heavy-muzzled head in a sharp, discouraging gesture. "No time." As he spoke, he looked away, over Galve's shoulder, into the brush. A scowl of calculation twisted the bestial face. "When I tell you to, I need you to run for the edge of the swamp. It's a few hundred yards that way," Acetyl added, pointing in the direction he thought would be the easiest to run in to reach the edge - it wasn't the shortest possible route, but it was the one with the fewest obstacles for Galve to have to scramble under, over, around or through. There'd be plenty of that, of course, since it was still a swamp, but there was no deep water or apparent quicksand or anything terrible that way, so it represented what Acetyl saw as Galve's best shot. Acetyl couldn't see the gator from where they were, but his rank reptile musk was heavy on the air. He was definitely still around, and watching. Speaking urgently now, but as quietly as he could to keep the gator from overhearing, Acetyl said, "When we're safe, we'll talk. We need to talk," he added in a dullly sardonic tone. "For now, we gotta get away from here."
Acetyl rainily rataplans, "When I say so, just run. As fast as you can. Don't think. Just run."
Galve nodded, understanding somewhat what was about to happen, and roughly in what order as well. He clutched the stave with both hands, feeling the familiar wood beneath his fingertips. If it got close enough that he had to fight, he'd have to make his first hit count. And it would, because from personal experience the stave guided him as much as he guided it. Something to do with the extraplanar nature of the item and what it may have been before it.
