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.
The gator knew something was up, but couldn't tell what. It was moving closer. Acetyl could almost physically feel the thing's presence. Not quite... but almost. He couldn't sense the gator's location, but he could feel the fact of its approach, an awareness settled too deeply in his gut to be dismissed as nervous imagination. As a younger agent, new to his mutant abilities, Acetyl had not been so sensitive, but he'd been an agent for years now and had learned not to ignore this feeling.
His Electrical Aura was a defensive power on two levels. It inflicted damage, yes - but living animals produce bioelectricity, and that faint signal was just strong enough for Acetyl to feel because of how it interacted with his electric aura. Really, his nanites felt it, but he was in tune enough with his nanites to notice the subtle static that indicated the presence of a living thing within a certain radius of his body. Because this was a side effect of the aura's electrical nature, though, it only worked within the range of the aura itself. Meaning that for 'Cet to be able to feel the Gator's approach, even in a weak and general way, meant that the Gator couldn't be more than ten or twenty feet away from them at most. If they'd been in an open meadow or a city street, Galve, Acetyl, and the gator would have been staring each other in the face. Only the dense swamp terrain allowed the gator to stalk so close while remaining under cover. Yet the verdant, waterlogged habitat was ideal for the gator's purposes.
Fortunately, for what Acetyl intended, it would work well for him, too. But he had very little time. Only seconds, possibly. The gator might choose to break cover and attack at any moment, and if he made his move before Acetyl made his own, they could be in serious trouble. Acetyl could tell the Male Gator was stronger than the local ferals usually were, but he couldn't tell how much stronger. It might even be the mate of the female who'd captured Galve originally, for all Acetyl knew, and if that was so, the gator might well be stronger than Acetyl in a toe-to-toe fight. His smell put Acetyl's hackles up and triggered his nanites' defenses to activate - clearly it was not the smell of a weaker predator.
Acetyl leapt for the nearest tree and began to scramble up the trunk, up to the thick criss-crossing branches. He wasn't an exceptionally skilled climber, but his clawed limbs and ability to move on all fours helped significantly, and he was up to his desired branch within a few seconds. "Go. Now. Now!" Acetyl barked at Galve as soon as he reached the branch, perching on it like a stalking leopard might have, standing on all fours atop a thick, heavy tree limb.
At the command to run, Galve took off running for the edge of the swamp. Primal, instinctual fear drove his flight as he ran as fast as he could, doing his best to avoid getting hit in the face by branches or getting caught up in vines.
The instant Galve began to run, his feet knocking bits of the wet ground back in an audible kickoff, there was a crashing in the brush behind where he and Acetyl had stood, and an appalling, almost unbiological hiss, like the sound a hot piece of metal would make if dunked in cool water. The Male Gator was a smart and cunning predator, and no fool, but he was a feral, and when confronted with the image of a fleeing rabbit (or, well, a human mutated into a kemo rabbit-herm-person, but for the Male Gator, close enough), he couldn't help giving chase. Though the small, remnant bit of consciousness left to the Gator was aware that this situation was a setup, the instinct to pursue fleeing prey was just too strong to resist. Besides, the reptilian mutant was not particularly intimidated by Acetyl in spite of his unnatural aura, and certainly not by the visibly weakened Galve. So the bull gator crashed out of the brush, his hiss of challenge devolving into a chilling growl. Gators were not built for long distance running, but in a short charge, their swiftness was uncanny. The male gator would have been on Galve's heels in an instant, and the weakened bunny might not have been able to get away in time before the bigger mutant had him.
But that sudden, uncontrolled charge was exactly what 'Cet had been hoping to provoke. His own predatory instincts keyed up to maximum tension, the Storm Dragon's dark goldish-bronze eyes glittered as he crouched - and the moment he saw movement, he too sprang, in the opposite direction. As the gator emerged from the brush and began to surge toward Galve, Acetyl threw himself down from the tree as hard as he could, so that the smallish agent - barely five and a half feet tall and not exactly musclebound - met the big Male Gator head-on, the two crashing together with a terrific impact. Acetyl did not roar, attacking in silence, but he couldn't stop a short, sharp bark, like a quick clap of thunder, when he hit the bigger mutant. As he hit, his nanites triggered his auras to discharge, punishing the male gator with a one-two punch of electric shock and emotional trauma, as the gator experienced sudden horror and revulsion at being in contact with Acetyl, at touching a Necromantic Acolyte. He didn't manage to pierce the gator with his horn, and his claws scrabbled over the gator's heavily armored hide without sinking in, but the sheer force of both bodies coming together so strongly was enough to check the gator's advance.
But the impact, and the auras, did not hurt the Gator as much as 'Cet had hoped. Instead of being heavily knocked back, or thrown to the ground, it stumbled backward a step or two and bellowed as electricity coursed through it, but its voice was full of rage more than pain. And 'Cet's own scales, with their furry covering, were nowhere near as thick or hard as the gator's. Denied the bunny, but more than willing to take its ire out on this rival predator who had interfered, the Male Gator's own clawed forepaws seized the Storm Dragon, digging in.
Hearing the clash behind him, Galve was conflicted. He could continue to run, or leap back into the fray to assist his ally. Every fiber of his being was telling him to follow the former, his instinctual response. But he had to help. He got the dragon into this mess. Clutching his stave, he turned and ran back into the fray, jabbing the blunted wooden end at an exposed bit of gator. Finding its mark, the stave most likely crushed a nerve cluster. How this affected the gator, the next few seconds would tell.
Acetyl, for his part, was beyond worrying about where Galve was or what he was doing. When the gator's claws sank in, the leash Acetyl kept firmly on his own nanite-born instincts snapped. With a hideous, bloodthirsty snarl, Acetyl turned in the gator's grip, heedless of the damage he inflicted on himself in the process as the gator's claws tore through more of his hide. Released from any scruples or hesitations his saner self may have, the Storm Dragon was as feral in that moment as the gator he fought, going from full control to total wildness in an instant. Few agents could descend into madness with such shocking speed, and the gator was taken aback by how the ferocious little creature in his grasp suddenly whipped around, snapping like a rabid weasel in his frenzy to hurt his foe no matter what it cost himself. It was this moment of surprise that gave Galve his opening. It was as if Galve's staff sensed the momentary inattention of the gator and helped Galve strike an exposed weak spot in that split second opportunity. At the same time, unaware of Galve's presence and lost in his own madness, Acetyl went for the throat, sinking his teeth deep into the softer, less well-armored tissues of the underside of the reptilian neck. The gator tried to bellow again, but only a bloody cough emerged, as Acetyl's jaws were cutting off its air. The blow from the staff hurt far more than Acetyl's teeth, causing the gator to double over, leaning forward automatically. The gator's claws still wrapped around Acetyl's waist, and it pulled hard at the smaller mutant, trying hard to force Acetyl to let go, but the Storm Dragon was lost in blood frenzy and locked his jaw muscles. He knew he was bleeding, felt his nanites' alarm systems going off as they raced to repair the damage he was taking, but he didn't care. He had forgotten everything but his own visceral need for violence, for savage triumph. He would beat this monster, and take a piece of it for his own belly in tribute to the Warden, or he'd die trying. Now beset from two sides with a degree of ferocity it had not expected, the gator lashed out with its tail at Galve, trying to beat the staff-wielder back so it could focus entirely on the dragon at its throat.
Relying on his mostly mutant body, Galve just barely dodged the sweeping tail and dove the staff in for a second attack, managing to land another hit but failing to dodge the return sweep, smacking him away and knocking the staff into the brush behind him. Landing heavily, Galve wiped sweat and blood (he wasnt quite sure whose it really was) from his eyes and glanced upon the crushed bundle of gear. He immediately began to rifle through it, pulling from the depths of the pack yet another weapon, this time a small but rather nasty looking chainsaw. It was proportioned for someone of his stature and he revved the engine, the extraplanar energies within stiring the weaponized tool to life. Much like his staff, it almost seemed to have a mind of its own when he attacked, and this time he went for that sweeping tail.
The gator was a tough beast, but he hadn't been expecting this much resistance. Six and a half feet tall and over two hundred pounds of reptilian mutant, the brutish alligator-man towered above the two agents, and he was clearly used to throwing his weight around to get his way. The supernatural chainsaw, with its ominous revving, sent a spark of fear into the gator's small, instinct-dominated, selfish mind. At that moment, Acetyl's auras reached full charge and fired again at top intensity. With Acetyl's teeth still sunk into the flesh of the reptile's throat and his claws latched into whatever purchase they could seize on the gator's rough scales, the electricity hit much harder, flowing directly into the beast. Instinctively, feeling himself discharging electricity, Acetyl relaxed fully, allowing an Electric Surge to blast forth from his nanite-forged electrophores. And, being a dragon, he released that energy through his teeth as a breath weapon, so that the Surge flowed directly from his cells, through his teeth, and into the gator's flesh. The gator shrieked, a far more human sound than any it had made up until this point, and shuddered with uncontrolled convulsions as the massive jolt of lightning from the two electric powers shook its body and temporarily overloaded its nanites.
And in that moment, Galve's extraplanar weapon sensed its opening, and Galve found himself striking out at that heavy, lashing tail. The chainsaw's supernatural power sufficed where Acetyl's nanite-built claws had not been quite strong enough, biting through the gator's hard scales with ease.
Feeling his tail be severed was the last straw. The Gator wasn't in it for this, not at all. There was much easier prey to be had here. But Acetyl, unaware of what else might be happening, was still locked in the gator's flesh like a rabid dog and was not about to let go. His jaws bit deeper. The gator pulled at him frantically, its claws ripping at the five-foot agent's body, but the dragon only bit deeper. Stumbling backward away from Galve, frantic with blood loss from its wounds, the gator's mind began to fade. It couldn't breathe at all now through the pressure of Acetyl's jaws, and even with the help of its own nanites, it couldn't keep fighting forever, not with its air cut off and so much blood pouring from the severed tail. Shuddering all over, the gator staggered back a few more steps, until its rough back hit a big tree. It fell to its side and went limp. It was unconscious, and would remain so for some time, until its nanites repaired it. Acetyl shuddered, too, and lay still for several seconds. Then he pushed himself onto all fours and ripped backward, flexing the powerful muscles of his predator's neck. The chunk of flesh he'd bitten into tore free from the male gator's throat with an awful sound, like wet canvas giving way. Acetyl snapped his jaws, once, twice, three times, then shook the morsel like a dog with a rat, though the chunk of meat was already 'dead'. Then he tore it to pieces and devoured the meat he'd taken, growling to himself. He seemed to have forgotten Galve was there.
Panting and slowly getting more covered in blood and viscera from Ace's brutal display, Galve was suprisingly calm despite what just happened. He backed away a bit, though, as the dragon gorged itself, and busied himself with finding the stave that had gotten tossed into the brush.
Fortunately, although the Storm Dragon form was one that, for unknown reasons, had more violent and savage instincts than most Fairhaven area forms tended to, its programming lacked the pure gluttony of other anomalously violent forms, such as the Wild Cannibal, or the daemoniac rage of others, like the Stygian Hound. It was not usual for the throat to be torn out - typically, even a feral Storm Dragon would simply grasp the throat in its teeth to force obedience as it savaged a defeated victim in other ways, with a single piece of unimportant flesh being taken at the end as the coup de grace. Acetyl, though, seemed totally out of control, at least for the time in which he was savaging that chunk of torn-out gator throat. He hadn't severed the head or damaged the spine, only torn a piece of flesh away, so the gator was still alive, if unconscious. The gator's nanites were already at work repairing the wounds - a short new tip already began to protrude from the severed end of the tail - but the throat wound still bled, and the maddened dragon went for that next, lapping at the wound, growling low in his throat. His growls slowly dissolved into low whines, though, and the licking slowed. He seemed to be coming back to himself. Finally he stopped and sat up, putting his face in his hands as if appalled by what he'd found himself doing. (In truth, he was just appalled by his own loss of control.) Then he heard the quiet rustling of Galve moving around and his head snapped up, the glow in his eyes intense with resurgent madness. Fixing on Galve, that hot gaze showed no recognition, only sensing the presence of another being nearby. Bloody teeth bared as the whiskered muzzle twisted in a snarl. But then the expression shifted from pure hostility to angry confusion, and Acetyl forced a few incoherent words through the growl, struggling back to sanity a bit at a time. After a minute or two, he seemed to finally remember who Galve was, and his snarl withered into a look of exhaustion, making Acetyl look much older than he must have been. "Give me a minute," he apologized, putting his face in his hands again. Under his breath, he muttered to himself. "C'mon, man, c'mon... control... get it together, 'Cet..."
"Figured you needed a moment..... Ah ha!" Galve said, fishing his oaken staff from the bushes. Chainsaw and stave still in hand, he warily approached the storm dragon. "A-are you ok?"
Curling his overlong tail around himself, Acetyl rubs at his eyes with his fists before dropping his hands with a sigh. He isn't looking at Galve, may even be avoiding the other's gaze, but seems calmer now, at least. He is silent for a moment. Then, with another growling sigh, he shrugs, still looking at the ground, and grunts, "Nothing we don't all suffer, sometimes, I guess." He's obviously minimizing - most people didn't suffer from cannibalistic frenzies when they went feral, just crazed horniness - but it's just as obvious that a more honest answer is unlikely at the moment. Pushing himself onto his hind legs, rising to a more bipedal stance, the storm dragon winces as his movement pulls at his unhealed wounds. "I need a smoke. Real bad. But we ain't stopping here. Let's get out of here. I..." Acetyl's odd, rain-sounding voice trails off, and he glances furtively at Galve. Whatever he was about to say is left unsaid. Instead: "We," he corrects himself, "got some talking to do." Although still bleeding from the gator's claws, deep rakes across his torso and back, even a tear in one wingsail, the storm dragon doesn't want to linger in the swamp any longer than they have to. He's been hurt worse than this in the past and knows he needs to get to a safe place if he doesn't want to be hurt any worse.
