Rescue From the Swamp Gatoress, Part Two - RPLOG
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 curdling 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...
