Chapter Text
The trees gently blew in the wind, strands of grass over the field swaying back and forth along with their bigger, bushy counterparts. An eerie quiet took over a while ago, the slugcats having run out of conversation topics. Artificer still glanced over toward the duo of scavs at her side, hoping to be able to see something akin to confidence in their gazes. Unfortunately, she did not find what she was looking for. None of the two seemed downtrodden or saddened, like the coming battle was already lost, but they did look grim. Their expressions did not reflect confidence, but full awareness of what was coming—the very same sudden comprehension that struck her just a moment before she turned to look at them.
Their victory was far from guaranteed.
While they definitely somehow managed to pull out all the possible available strengths for their side—semi-powerful allies, decent weaponry, and an all-around good tactical plan and defense—it could still be that the chance of them coming out on top was slim. None of them stood with a precise clue of what they would be up against. No scouting had been done, no attempts to sneak behind enemy lines to get a closer look at their weaponry, to count the number of enemies they would be facing, or even to try to figure out their strategies. When it came to knowledge, they were in the dark. It did not help that the one ally that could probably sort of remember how many they were facing (had not more been recruited to attack them, void forbid) looked not so confident either. As the former leader of the tribe that came for them, Chieftain looked dismayed at the idea of fighting his own warriors.
Of course, the simple reason could be that he simply did not fancy fighting above trying to find and share reason, or that he did not wish to fight what used to effectively be his own people, but considering the tall scav had shown capacity for violence very recently before that moment, Artificer doubted that any sort of doubt existed inside his mind. He knew and shared the same thoughts as her, most likely. They were not ready for what was to come; there could be a f*cking horde of opponents, and they would be none the wiser. It could be that the battle was unwinnable and that the time they all could spend trying to escape with their lives, they instead used to wait for their execution. While not necessarily the truth, not considering the situation to be possible at all seemed overly optimistic and foolish in the end. Nevertheless, even if they did have enough firepower to win, what would follow was brutal combat. Unless they outnumbered their enemies, the chance to suffer losses was nothing if not pretty much guaranteed. Not exactly the best situation to face down, Artificer realized, a sinking feeling in her stomach as dread set in.
She did have at least a smidge of confidence; she wanted to really believe they could make it through unscathed. They all had a chance to survive the coming encounter, and nothing bad would happen. But while she wanted to be an optimist, Artificer could not lie to herself. All we can do is try our best. Stick to our allies and slaughter as many as we can. It is what we know; we have experience in this, and we will use it to our advantage. Chieftain finally sensed her stare, glancing over to meet her gaze flippantly before turning his whole head toward her. The cracked mask was pushed down over his face, giving him a very threatening appearance when paired with the chains wrapped around his wrists and his tall and muscular build. Only then did she make note of the fact that the makeshift weapons he had kept around ever since being freed in the first place were still covered in dried blood. It made her consider just how much more threatening and terrifying he would look to the invading force when his tools for killing were dripping with fresh crimson.
Despite his terrifying visage, the visible pair of eyes were friendly as he gave her a small nod. Though Cheiftain still looked to be a bit worried, judging by his tense body language, he radiated determination and strength. The thought calmed Artificer’s nerves, and she could not help but smirk and return the nod with a small thumbs-up at the realization that her friend was far from immobilized by fear or thoughts of inadequacy. Her scavenger friend did not worry, so what reason did she have to be afraid? She knew her own moment of bravery, however short, was worth it when Chieftain untensed slightly and gave her a small wink before turning back to look ahead over the field. Hustler leaned into his side, and he threw an arm around the shorter one’s shoulder as they started to quietly talk to each other.
Not wanting to look like she was trying to eavesdrop on the two, Artificer instead turned her attention to the slugcat by her side. In complete contrast to how she’d been feeling just a moment earlier, the red slugcat looked confident. Hunter stood straight, chest puffed out, as he watched the pipe far further ahead with narrowed eyes. The spear in his paw was held steady in a tight grip, not getting twirled around, fidgeted with, or played with. Whether the slugcat was in prime mood for a big fight, far too stubborn to accept anything but victory, or simply did not know any better, it probably did not matter. His whole body radiated dedication and a mind set on the mission; there was focus in every part of him, but there was also something more than that as well.
The grip on his spear was tight, almost to the point of the paw shaking. He twitched from time to time, his free paw reaching back to irritably scratch at an itch over his shoulder. His expression, the constant show of willpower, flickered from time to time as he winced and small twitches ran along his back. Not only was Hunter determined to win the ensuing fight, he was filled with anger. Artificer had no doubt that the enemy could come charging across the field toward the tree, with the red slugcat as the only defender, and he would not hesitate to charge forward to meet them halfway. She supposed it made sense; her friend had all the reason to be really angry. Not only were his friends threatened, his pride insulted, and his mate kidnapped...
Night, the pup bonded to him, and Survivor, not through the blood in their veins but through the love in their hearts, was in the tree right behind them. He was one of six of the last lines of defense between the enemies and Little Night, and Hunter would not back down for anything. It was only then, through that train of thought, that Artificer connected the dots for what the anger inside of the other slugcat reminded her of. Turning back to the tree, the maroon slugcat lowered her spear partly as she glanced up at her own pup.
Despite the coming battle, which would no doubt cause future strife and pain in some way, Monk did not look scared at all. Like always, he was the shining light of their group. Even despite not hearing much of the slugcats’ conversation, she heard Enot genuienly chuckle as the other slugcat commented something and pointed toward the pipe. She was well aware that he had already sent his lizards on the way to stalk across the field toward the trenches, treeline, and the singular pipe that spelled the easiest entrance to the vast space that stood between the enemy and their colony tree. Maybe he was pointing out something funny about his lizard friends? Artificer did remember the way Ruby almost seemed to proudly show her armor off to the other predators, the red scales glimmering slightly as the sun hit them. The others seemed impressed, apart from maybe Sapphire, who looked annoyed with the fact that the red lizard was showing off. Though that could just be irritation over the fact that they were meant to follow her “commands” throughout the fight to keep them in line. It was comical to consider the lizards as having differing personalities, capable of being less aggressive, more energetic, nervous, dominant…
It was often far easier to think of them as simple, hungry predators that only cared about eating anything living they could find and that they were not capable of deeper thoughts than those brought on by their predatorial instinct, but Monk’s taming experience had effortlessly proved such theories wrong. Artificer could not help but feel pride at seeing her pup radiate confidence even in the face of such a hard situation, lifting Enot’s spirits as well as hers even further than Chieftain had already managed. Glancing down and noticing her looking up at him, the yellow slugcat beamed and waved at her. So carefree and kind, uplifting to everyone else! He was an inspiration, and she did not know what their colony would do without him. A warm smile crept onto her face as she waved back, almost feeling a tear come to her eye as she turned away to look back at the field before she would lose her cool.
With the full realization of what she truly was fighting for, what she would be protecting, and what she very well could even stand to lose should they all fail in their mission, Hunter’s determined anger suddenly made sense to her. The ones who were on their way to invade them, coming to their home with the sole purpose of wanting to hurt them all, would hurt her pup. Terrible fear struck her heart at that thought—the thought of another of her own, another little one taken from her far too soon.
The fear transformed into anger, one she was all too familiar with. Artificer was used to the constant rage rippling through her—a burning underneath her fur and skin that could not be satiated no matter how many scavenger throats she tore out with her bare teeth! It was familiar, but it had never been as controllable as it was right at that moment. She would not fight for vengeance as she had many times before, back in the past! No, the maroon slugcat would fight to protect her family, her home, and her friends. Previous rage had always been uncontrollable, and though it made her feel strong and unstoppable, it also would not cease no matter what she did.
At that moment, she was in control. The anger burned her deeply, searing her very soul with rage, but she could still think through her actions and manage her emotions as best she could. As a quiet growl ripped through her throat, smoke trailing from her mouth as she fully turned to look out toward the pipe ahead and clenched the explosive pipe in her paws, Artificer practically felt Hunter glance over and smirk.
Anger is power. Unleash it!
As the thought echoed through her mind, it was as if fate itself changed ahead of her. What Artificer had previously thought to be impossible suddenly felt like a cakewalk, a simple stepping stone. More scavengers to fight—that was the gist of it. Were they outnumbered? It did not matter; they would be crushed underneath her paw. They came running, expecting to see a washed-up Red Death, no longer capable of spreading terror among ranks of scavengers, as she methodically tore them to pieces. But that did not seem fair, did it? Surely all of them would have been told before coming to where they were at that moment; they must have all known what they got into before that very moment.
If not, she doubted they had a chance to run. They were confident, perhaps, but she had dealt with arrogance before. Whether they felt invincible or simply overvalued their abilities in a fight, scavengers bled all the same.
And for the first time in a while, Artificer was itching to spill scavenger blood.
From seemingly nowhere, a loud scream suddenly split the air. Immediately, everyone straightened up and turned their full attention in the direction of the sound. It was far away, but loud enough that it echoed through the trees and reached their location all the same. Artificer thanked her sensitive slugcat hearing for being able to pick up the noise and turn to the right side of the field despite her non-functioning hearing on that very side. Another scream swiftly followed, a bit more quiet but still clear enough; it was obviously one of excrutiating pain. The source of the noise came from the trees, and the first idea that obviously came to mind was that an enemy had tripped one of the traps set in place by King’s warriors.
Gnarly and brutal as they no doubt were, it was likely impossible to doubt their effectiveness. Even despite having heard plenty of agonized noises during her self-made, previous career of wanton murder, Artificer could not help but feel a slight chill up her spine at the howling as it continued on and on. It was only suddenly broken up by a loud explosion from the very same side, the shockwave of which visibly shook the trees around its impact. Even through the screaming and the ensuing eruptions of more blasts on the left side, Artificer could swear she heard several trees collapse as their trunks were no doubt torn into splinters by the explosives.
While the first explosion had happened fairly far off, the ones that followed were closer for a moment before it eventually became fully impossible to even make out where they came from. Noise was everywhere, and it was so bad that Artificer folded her left ear back against her head to try to muffle the cacophony. It only sort of worked, unfortunately, and even through the explosions, she could still hear another loud noise. A collection of screams echoed once again, joining in with the agonized wails that had started elsewhere. The difference was that the new screaming was not agonized or fearful in any way.
What she and the rest of the group, standing on top of and nearest the tree, heard was a collective war cry!
Not long after she connected the dots, countless scavengers suddenly rushed out of the treeline near the pipe that stood in the middle. The cries of rage and desperation came from their enemies approaching the trench, their first line of defense, very rapidly. Even from a distance away, Artificer made out the spears thrown, noting that many of King’s warriors did not seem ready for such a brave charge. Nerves and fear took their due; a lot of the thrown projectiles sailed past their target; many only ended up grazing the enemy or lodging in a nonlethal spot in their bodies. Within mere moments, what was meant to be an effective defense turned into chaos as the enemies got within melee range.
For just a moment, Artificer could make out all the separate scavengers and lizards charging for enemies, shouting commands, or preparing to throw spears or bombs. Then, everything devolved into ruthless chaos. Everything and everyone came together into a grotesque mix of violence as sounds of clanging metal and short yelps of anger and pain joined in with the song of violence already audible. From time to time, the noises were interrupted by a single explosion that would kick up dust and make the chaos even harder to make out for the far-off defenders. Despite that fact, Artificer quickly noted a big problem.
As the chaos went on, it became harder for King’s warriors to keep up any kind of safe perimeter to keep their opponents at bay. It did not take long until a single ambitious scavenger managed to break through the parts of the ground covered by hastily-dug trenches and protected by lizards and spider corpse-wearing allies, visibly struggling to climb out of the edge of the pit. Standing up, the scavenger took a deep breath before looking ahead and spotting their defensive line. Artificer and everyone else got into combat positions, staring their opponents down menacingly from across the far distance. Very faintly, she could only just make out the sounds of Chieftain wrapping chains around his knuckles and Hustler pulling a few of his smoke grenades free of his belt on her right side. Hunter audibly cracked the joints in his neck and growled, and she guessed Monk and Enot also held their own “weapons” threateningly and stared the enemy down.
While she knew the enemy was no doubt confident, Artificer still expected their foe to make the smart choice of leaving. Unfortunately, none of them had such luck. They swayed slightly on their feet, leg visibly bleeding even despite being viewed from quite a distance away. The spear they held loosely in one hand had its tip spattered with blood, and a large part of their body was covered in dirt and grime. Yet still, the enemy simply turned their head, spat a wad of what Artificer guessed was blood onto the ground, turned back to look at them, and bared their teeth.
Then a few more broke through. Climbing up alongside the first scavenger, they all stared the defensive group down. Some were injured; others were simply covered in dirt or even almost completely unscathed despite the chaos. There were not so many, all things considered; only about ten scavengers stood to face them at that moment, but considering the fact that there were still more (judging by the constant sound of combat) behind the group, Artificer guessed more would arrive eventually. Another short moment of staring each other down quickly passed before one of the scavengers took a deep breath and let loose a war cry.
The other enemies joined, and quickly the whole group of survivors of the initial chaos charged forward as their collective cry of anger split the air. Even despite the fact that the distance between them and the tree seemed far, Artificer was shocked at how quickly they made progress. It felt like only a moment passed before they were almost upon them, their screams only growing in intensity as they approached.
“Hey! Catch this!” A familiarly loud voice shouted from behind, followed by an equally familiar round object flying far over their heads toward the split-up group of attackers.
It flew with surprising speed, right toward the middle of the charging scavengers. Though many saw it coming and tried their best to diverge before whatever the hell Enot had thrown hit the ground, a small amount of them did not try to move to the side and dodge. Likely because they were far too busy staring down at the company ahead of them threateningly rather than keeping an eye out. Quite rapidly, it proved to be a mistake. A grave one, not to mention. The “egg” struck the ground hard; a crack was heard as the object immediately rose into the air. It started to spin, building up speed terrifyingly fast as the nearest scavs, who had refused to move quickly, got sucked toward the spinning weapon by some sort of unseen force.
The previously determined screaming turned into warped screams of panic and fear as the scavengers were pushed against the object in the middle. Artificer’s eye widened as she watched the display, temporarily morbidly mesmerized by what the egg could do. Shortly after the scavengers had been pulled in, bashed against each other, and held so close the round object pushed against them both, the egg exploded. Even though the explosion was nothing spectacular, its power alike her own homemade bombs, the close proximity to its victims meant absolute destruction. Their broken and mangled bodies were blasted into the ground as a golden fluid blasted outward as the outer shell of the egg was destroyed.
Some of it landed on another enemy that had been near but not near enough to be pulled into the destruction, splashing against part of their torso. It seemed to be corrosive in some way, the large amount of the liquid splashed upon the motionless bodies that had been closest to the explosion ensuring there were no survivors even if any of them had somehow survived the close-range explosive blast. Immediately upon being exposed to the substance, the scavenger reacted with pain. In response to the burning, they yelped several times over and tried to wipe the fluid off with their hand. Unfortunately, the liquid seemed sticky. As panic set in, their pained noises intensified into shouts as they shook the appendage around when the golden liquid stuck to it and kept burning their skin. Artificer winced as she could have sworn she heard their skin practically sizzling. Despite not having the most impressive explosive power, the weapon’s ability to pull opponents close before exploding and its way to spread the corrosive fluid everywhere, undoubtedly made it horrifyingly effective at wiping out enemies it was thrown at.
Though stunned and flabbergasted by the sheer power of what Enot had available as a weapon, the muffled sounds of a pup crying and whining from inside the tree behind her had Artificer temporarily abandon all angry thoughts about the dangers the cyan slugcat had placed upon all of them by storing the bombs inside the tree where they slept. Judging by the growling from Hunter on the left side of her, he also heard Night in distress and was ready to fight.
Their enemies were close, many of them pulling back hands holding spears as they neared distance to be able to likely semi-competently hit one of them. “Hustler! The smoke!” Artificer yelled, knowing she would likely not be understood. She hoped the context clues would be enough, and they thankfully seemed to be, as she immediately received what she guessed was a verbal confirmation from the scavenger.
Shortly thereafter, three objects were tossed forward, semi-evenly spread out along them, a few meters ahead. There was a burning string at the top of all three, burning down toward the actual part of the object that Artificer guessed was the bomb. The closest enemies chittered something, pointing to the thrown objects with a panicked chitter. A moment later, they went off with a small pop. Immediately, dark smoke rose from inside the metal shells, filling the air and completely hiding the whole group from the sight of their enemies.
As the smoke thickened enough that the enemies could no longer be seen through its gloom, Artificer and the others tensed and prepared for their opponents to charge through. It had indeed been a good plan to enforce the smoke screen, perfect for ensuring close-quarters combat against mostly disoriented enemies, along with the smoke not reaching high enough to disrupt the bomb throwers up in the tree. Thank the void for that. Artificer did not want to consider the consequences of getting an egg thrown at her and being pulled into that explosion. The next cycle of pain after such a death would likely be agonizing and all-encompassing…
For a moment, the approaching footsteps slowed down slightly; quiet chitters were audible through the smoke, along with coughs. A sudden beep at her side reminded Artificer that Sofanthiel was near and in the danger zone, so she reached over and pushed it down to hide behind her back as she raised her explosive spear and aimed it at the smoke in the general direction she heard the approaching voices.
When she saw the vague outline of a scavenger, Artificer growled and threw the spear, wasting no time in pulling another loose of its metal surface below her as the projectile audibly lodged in the enemy and swiftly exploded. All the smoke around the explosion was temporarily pushed aside, exposing terrified glances in her general direction as the scavengers decided to simply rush forward.
Artificer could not help but smirk to herself as the first enemy came close enough to try to swing for her head, paying no attention to her, raising her tail behind her, ready to slam down.
Showtime.
The vague whistling of the wind blowing through the surrounding trees almost seemed to echo through Chatterer’s ears, blending in with the sounds of the grassy soil beneath him. A combination of sounds that may have been calming or otherwise simply pleasant to listen to at any other point in time almost seemed to grate in his ears. Every particularly loud crunch as he crushed small collections of dry leaves under his heel left him wincing slightly, a stark contrast to the allies at his sides, who moved with confidence and purpose. Their walk was more akin to a proper march compared to his nervous half-stroll, half-stumble, but the conviction they radiated did not at all do much for Chatterer’s nerves.
Not only were all sounds overwhelming, but his grip on the spear felt far too loose, too inexperienced. Nervously, he fidgeted with the sharp metal in his hands, trying not to let it slip as he attempted to gain more confidence. The holder on his back, filled with even more spears ready to be thrown at nearby enemies, felt far too heavy to be comfortable. It was not right; Chatterer himself knew the collection of weapons strapped to him were not meant to weigh him down. All it took to come to that conclusion was to simply weigh the one in his hands. Despite being made of metal and functioning more as an improvised weapon made of a scavenged hunk of scrap than any real crafting from the scavengers on their own, the projectile had been picked out because it was light.
Not at all were the weapons he and the warriors carried, like the quality Watcher carried around. His two-tipped spear had apparently been found inside old ruins inside the shaded place, stolen from its spot as some sort of decoration inside. Likely a very old weapon, but still in mint condition, and able to stay that way even as he used it several times over to cut through the flesh of any enemies in his way. Considering the quality, it was not all that odd that he treated it like a kit of his own, constantly ensuring its tip was sharpened, its handle smoothed of any ridges, and practically praying to it before every battle. He said it brought him some luck on the battlefield, but Chatterer guessed it was just a really high-quality spear.
He had seen warriors throw spears many times before, seen how far they could be flung, and seen how fast they could travel as they flew. Not every spear was exactly the same, but they were all close enough in feel and weight that having muscle memory of how to stab, swing, and chuck the weapon helped to wield pretty much every single one of the things effectively. Unfortunately, Chatterer never cared to learn how to use them as effectively as many others. Unlike many other scavengers, he held no interest whatsoever in studying the arts of violence and warfare. Though he was well aware it was no doubt a good idea to learn, he had never paid it much mind. The gray scavenger knew the very basics: he knew to hold a firm hold on the handle of the weapon and thrust forward to stab, to adjust his grip, pull back his arm, and throw the metal toward his enemy when at a distance.
No doubt his skill could very well be matched even by a young kit, so long as the little one had an interest in learning and put a lot of their energy into it. Chatterer, as arrogant and self-righteous as he was well aware it sounded, always saw himself as more of an intellectual. Rather than fight, he much preferred to, more often than not, try to talk his way out of violent situations. Results from this strategy were more often than not very mixed, either working out perfectly and going off without a hitch or resulting in him having to run for his life as he was chased by a very angry opponent who somehow took offense to his attempts at defusing the situation. But he still felt he was getting better and better, more often than not capable of solving most situations with talk rather than action.
Once again, a reminder of his status as a non-fighter reared its ugly head as Chatterer’s face felt slightly itchy. With a quiet huff, he reached up and fidgeted with the off-white mask strapped to his face. He’d found it fairly ugly when Watcher presented it, finding the frowning visage to be weird and odd-looking. Of course, the other scavenger did not agree at all, finding the mask to be perfect for him to wear! Hell, Chatterer was not even of the status to wear a bone mask on his face. The honor was only meant to be bestowed upon strong warriors, so he almost felt like the real fighters of their force would take a sort of offense to him being allowed to sport what was meant to be their thing. Unfortunately, Watcher was quite impossible to argue with when he figured his point to be the correct one.
His arguments had boiled down to the fact that the mask was a discreet color, looked fairly intimidating, and would go together very well with Chatterer’s slanted eyes. When the points were presented, he’d almost been offended at the comment about the way he looked. Even despite slowly growing his social skills from the ground up to what he considered to be at least a decent level, the gray scavenger’s appearance was unchangeable. No matter how calm and collected he would try to look as he attempted to speak calmly to another, his yellow eyes, which slanted downward and almost seemed to make him look constantly annoyed or pissed, would sometimes make it difficult for him. The mask definitely did not help, but that was of course Watcher’s main point for bringing it up to him—that it made him look more like a scavenger of action than he already was.
But he did not want to be someone who took violent action! A solitary groan of annoyance left him as he stepped over a root, ignoring his teammates harsh expressions that screamed to be quiet. Even after sticking to Watcher’s side for such a long time, it was hard for Chatterer to decide what to make of his friend. Although it was clear the bulky scav found him annoying at times and was very grumpy, he’d been quick to seemingly trust the other to basically act as his right-hand man! Despite being a bit wary of the far larger and more imposing scavenger, he accepted. In a way, it was more done as a way to keep track of each other rather than stick around for full-on friendship.
He did consider them friends! They used to be a bit closer before their group got kicked out of the very tribe that Watcher suddenly basically held leadership over, but that changed as soon as they met that maroon-colored beast. The Red Death, as the veterans liked to call her in hushed conversation, very quickly built a reputation among all of them as a terrifying force of nature. After all, Chatterer and his fellow colleagues in the group held the displeasure of having to see the slugcat unleash her anger for the first time. Despite being fully aware of the fact that the group was simply following orders, he did remember to have found the killing of the young ones a bit cruel.
A cruel action that turned out to be a horrid mistake when it awakened the Red Death!
Almost effortlessly, she crushed them all, using her claws, teeth, and anything else she could get her paws on from them to maim and kill. Poor Watcher lasted the longest, whatever injuries he sustained from the incident disfiguring his face, covering him with scars, and granting him a very visible limp. What followed was the group getting thrown out of the tribe and ending up outside the metropolis. It was not a big shock to see the big scavenger walk out of the city with deep wounds from his fight with Chieftain. Obviously, all the wounds were patched by Caregiver but she seemed far from pleased with the situation.
The group had tried to survive on their own for a while, but Watcher was always one to easily hold a grudge. Though everyone else wanted to move on from the whole thing and leave, the disfigured scavenger simply would not let any of it go. A hatred grew for both the beast that had marred him with scars and for his former leader, who had not even made an effort to hear his side of the story out before acting on pure emotion rather than reason and kicking them out. He disappeared from the group one cycle, not even leaving behind a note or anything sentimental for them to try to remember him by.
Not long after that, the rest of them split up as well and went their own separate ways. Chatterer had gotten by alone for a while, only keeping conversations with scavengers stationed at tolls (not ones of his former tribe) and other nomad scavs. Disturbingly, it did not take that long until he ran into his old friend once again. Covered in blood and fresh wounds from a struggle with a pair of green lizards, Watcher had barely even acknowledged the fact that the two had found each other once again. Almost as soon as the initial shock over seeing each other again passed, he pointed at Chatterer and told him to get over and help patch up his injuries.
Then the two had traveled together, mostly in silence and with minimal interaction, but at least there was company. Despite not talking much to the other, Chatterer learned some new things about the other. Unfortunately, the biggest fact that made itself clear was the other scavenger’s intense fear and hatred for the creature that disfigured him. The same disfigurement that always made him want to wear a mask when there was a risk of others seeing his face, even when sleeping around others. Not to mention the nightmares, tossing and turning, whimpering, and sobbing quietly as he relived the memories of the attack. When Chatterer compared the other’s emotions during the night, the way he would reach out in sleep and try to gain any semblance of comfort from the gray scavenger, to the daytime, when he would glare at everyone and always use violence as his solution to his problems, he realized there was likely more behind the other’s grumpiness.
Thus, Chatterer decided to stick around the other for a little bit. Even as the two happened to stumble across Chieftain and his tribe traveling across the region they were in, seemingly downtrodden and defeated as the way was led further out and away from the large metal structures lifting into the sky. Even as a spark of hatred and fear entered his eyes as they hung around near the gate that led to the great expanse of land on the outside of the walls, he saw the Red Death and a yellow slugcat pass by their hiding spot and venture outside. And even as his friend wanted to stick around and get his revenge, spending many cycles to sow doubt in the minds of the members of the tribe, building a connection of scavengers on the inside that told them of all that occurred between the slugcats and Chieftain’s tribe, Chatterer still hung around.
And he even followed up to personally give the dilemma to the slugcats face-to-face!
But it was only at that moment, as he trudged through the grass with the rest of the warriors wielding a weapon he was not at all used to using effectively and sporting a mask that felt uncomfortable and wrong on his face, that Chatterer started to come to the conclusion that he was definitely out of his depth.
Though however badly the scavenger wanted to turn around and walk his ass all the way back to the darker part of the region they controlled, settle down in a warm den with a blanket around his shoulders, and then sleep the rest of the cycle away, Chatterer knew he could not do so. Others might have said what they want about him and his ways, whispered behind his back when he did not hear, mocked him for not being a fighter like them. They could say whatever they wanted, but the fact of the matter was that he understood the significance of loyalty.
While his shaky friendship with Watcher did not seem like much from an outside view, with the two not talking much outside of discussing future tactics or poking fun at each other, Chatterer did view the other scavenger as a genuine friend. Despite not at all being as into the whole “revenge” thing as the larger one, and finding the whole plan to really be a waste of time they could spend elsewhere, he understood that Watcher needed the fight. Whether a win or lose was coming for their group, he had to participate and he had to take his shot. The constant nightmares spoke of the trauma the other had experienced and it likely only cemented his wish to carry out some sort of violent action against the slugcat colony.
So, even though Chatterer would rather be anywhere else, he trudged on with the other warriors. With a frustrated huff, he reached up and adjusted his mask once again. No matter how much he fiddled with the bone accessory, it felt void-awful to have on, and it was starting to drive him nuts. “Hey.” His imminent anger-fueled decision to tear the mask of his face and smash it on the ground was suddenly interrupted by a voice at his side.
Chatterer jumped in surprise, turning to the source to see a brown-furred scavenger he did not recognize. Much like himself, the other had a mask strapped to his face, one that had quite small eyes and something akin to a grin carved where the mouth would be. The combination gave it a rather demented appearance, but the scavenger wearing it did not match the energy all that much. Upon seeing the frightened reaction, their green eyes visibly softened as they looked Chatterer over.
He felt a bit embarrassed over the patting down that was obviously given by an actual elite of the warrior class, fully aware that just one glance at his body language would tell the story of how big a warrior he truly was. “Have you checked the straps?” They asked, absent-mindedly reaching a free hand up to lightly adjust their own mask.
The gray, inexperienced scavenger had very much expected to get some sort of mocking comment or insult from the more experienced of the two, and so was very taken aback by the sudden, genuine question thrown his way. “W-What?” He stammered, kicking himself for sounding so unsure.
At least the warrior did not seem all that annoyed by his fearful nature, simply tilting their head. “You looked uncomfortable with the mask, it feels itchy, huh?” It was barely even presented as a question, but the curious tone made Chatterer sight and nod slowly. “We all struggle with it at the start.” He chuckled shortly, reaching behind his head and pulling on the leather straps keeping the carved bone on his head. “Comfort is all in how tight it fits around your head, adjusting the straps to be a bit looser can do wonders.”
Still caught off-guard by the other’s friendly demeanor, Chatterer stared for a moment longer at the other scavenger. They said nothing more, simply gave one more tug to the straps holding their mask together in demonstration before giving him a nod. With nothing else to be said, they turned their head and looked forward, eyes scanning the nearby trees and bushes for threats as the two walked side by side. After spending a moment longer gaping at the helpful stranger he’d never even talked to before, Chatterer eventually snapped out of his confusion to reach for the straps tied to the back of his own head.
Though pulling at them blindly, the fact he had been the one to put the mask on himself in the first place helped him remember what parts to pull to get the results he wanted. Within short time, the strips of leather tied around his head loosened and Chatterer felt like a huge amount of pressure on his skull suddenly released. It was shocking he had not made note of the feeling earlier, but after correcting the tightness the reason for discomfort became shockingly clear.
His sigh of relief made the other scavenger look over again. “Better?” Even despite the mask on their face, the amusem*nt was clear in their voice.
“A million times so.” Chatterer responded, unable to keep further relief out of his tone as he glanced at the other. “Thank you for the suggestion, uh…” The realization that he did not know the other scavenger’s name hit for the second time during their short interaction, and he turned his head fully to address the other. “Would you mind telling me your name?”
Normally, he was not exactly keen on interacting with the elites in any sort of tribe unless he knew them very personally, all too aware of how brash and rude they could be. But there was something about the one at his side that made him feel a bit safer making small talk. A theory that seemed confirmed when the stranger turned their head as well, smile on their face obvious through their eyes. “I am called Clobber.” They responded, holding their free hand out for the other to shake.
A name very befitting of a warrior, Chatterer supposed. He never was the biggest fan of the usual naming process behind scavengers being what they were good at; all it really did was make all the accomplished fighters in a large group of scavengers have names that spoke to their ability to kill. It hindered a lot of the creative process that could be used when naming others, and although he did not have anything against his own name, he would not at all have anything against giving himself and others different ones that did not have to speak to what they did.
With a smile, he switched his spear over to his left hand and twisted to take the other’s hand. “Chatterer, good to meet you.” They shook hands on what was hopefully the start of a stable friendship.
As they both released the other’s hand and went back to walking, Clobber huffed in amusem*nt. “With a name like Chatterer, I take it you are not an experienced warrior, no offense.” If the gray scavenger had had any sort of pride in his combat skills, he may have been offended by the comment. As it stood, he did not have any reason to be pissed off.
Barking a laugh, he waved his hand dismissively at the other. “None taken.” Chatterer looked back at the scenery around them, not liking how silent everything had suddenly become. No wind blew through the trees or bushes; the noises of nearby critters or distant shouts of creatures had faded to nothingness. “To be fully honest, I did not exactly sign up to have a full-on fight out in the woods.” He added quickly, eager to fill the brutal silence that threatened to spike his anxiety, which had already been increasing the closer they got to their destination.
Luckily, the other scavenger seemed eager to oblige, chuckling slightly as they turned and took their own look at the surroundings. Unlike Chatterer, who looked around in uncertainty and paranoia, Clobber seemed focused as they studied their surroundings. It was quite likely they were actually keeping an eye out for signs of enemies and not only looking around for the sheer sake of easing anxiety as the other scavenger did. At least the idea of being near someone who was experienced and well aware of what they were doing as they marched on calmed him just a bit.
“Not the scenery you expected, then?” They eventually asked, looking sure of the fact that their quick scan came up empty of threats as they glanced back at him.
Not exactly what he had meant, but Chatterer would gladly take some overappreciation of his own thoughts when it came to all-out combat. “Something like that...” He trailed off, forcing himself not to glance around at their surroundings again, as that would no doubt make it obvious he was incredibly nervous. “You have a lot of experience in fighting?” It was quite a clear attempt at moving on from talking about him to talking about them, but judging from the fact that Clobber perked up slightly, it worked.
He himself would have never fallen for such a pitiful attempt at deflection, but that was only thanks to his experience talking to others. Clobber, no offense to the other, did not seem to have as much proficiency in that matter. “Oh, sure. I’ve been in some scuffles back in the day!” Their voice took on a stronger tone, but it still stayed rather quiet and was mostly only heard between the two of them, despite the smattering of more scavengers walking around them. Only when glancing around did Chatterer realize they were walking in front. Don’t think about that; you will only stress yourself out. “I’ve fought lizards, centipedes, and some nomad scavs that got a bit too aggressive; you know how it is.” The other scavenger nodded; he did know. He was well aware that surviving out in the wild pretty much all alone no doubt required being paranoid, but he also knew of some scavengers he had met that were more aggressive than just agitated. “I had some run-ins with the Red Death as well, but I did not meet her as often as some others around here.” Clobber gestured out at the rest of the scavengers spread around to the sides and behind them.
With nothing to really add to the conversation, Chatterer simply hummed as the other quieted down. A short moment of paranoid silence followed before he got the urge to fill the silent space with noise once again. "So, how do you think this skirmish will go?” Felt right to get an opinion from someone who knew what they were talking about. Otherwise, he would theorize on his own, and that would likely only make him even more worried about what would happen.
The other scavenger hummed, seemingly in deep thought, for a short moment as they considered the question. “If you want my honest opinion…” They trailed off for just a short moment, lightly twirling the spear in their hand. “I think we’ll win.” He eventually settled on, seemingly not at all worried about what was to come. Upon noticing Chatterer staring at them incredulously, Clobber explained their train of thought. “While it is very true that our enemies have the fabled Red Death on their side, we still outnumber them from what I’ve heard. They are a small colony of slugcats; we are a large tribe of warriors.” They huffed, looking ahead again and adjusting their grip on the spear in their hand. “I have no clue what Watcher wants to do when we have won, but I only care for carrying out my own orders.”
For what felt like the millionth time, Chatterer was not sure how to respond. It was a very unfamiliar feeling, not at all knowing what to say in any given situation. He was used to always being in control during conversations, but the way he felt at that moment once again really spoke to the fact that he was completely out of his depth. Or “stuck in the middle of a sea of wormgrass with no spore puff," as he had heard Watcher say once.
It was clear the other scavenger held no ill thoughts toward the slugcats they were about to attack. Hell, Clobber did not even seem all that upset over the fact that the Red Death was among them. It could be that they were simply not the one to hold grudges in the end. With that thought, Chatterer did get interested in hearing what their general opinion was of their former leader. They must have been present in some way during the moment when Chieftain was betrayed, after all.
“Hey.” Clobber glanced over with a hum as they walked out into a clearing among the trees, the ground adorned with a large amount of dry leaves that crunched loudly underneath their feet. “What’s your opinion-” Barely halfway through his question, Chatterer was interrupted by the sudden fall of his conversation partner. One moment, the brown scavenger wearing the grinning mask was there, and the next, they had fallen out of sight.
His very first reaction was that the other had simply lost their balance or tripped over something and fallen over, but that was immediately disproven when Chatterer looked down and saw a hole that had been roughly dug out in the soil beneath them. No doubt a collection of leaves had hidden it from view to ensure it would not be spotted and avoided; no doubt it was some sort of trap that the other scavenger had fallen into; no doubt there was something bad inside it, as agonized screams suddenly originated from inside. The sound was horrible, and although every instinct inside Chatterer told him to turn and make a run for it, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he did not at least try to help out.
Crouching down by the edge of the hole and peeking down, he quickly made note of the reason for Clobber’s pain. The bottom of the pit was not simple stone or dirt; it was littered with what looked like wooden stakes. They were the obvious source of the fallen scavenger’s pain, as many of them pierced their flesh, sticking through their arms, legs, stomach, and shoulder. It was gnarly, and that was not even mentioning how extra unlucky they had been to not immediately get one through their chest, neck, or head. At least then, death would have been quick, and they would not be hollering in pain as their blood started to pool at the bottom.
Chatterer heard footsteps and chittering around him as more scavengers rushed over to see what was wrong, but he could not hear any of what was being said through the ringing in his ears. He tried to think of some way to help, but nothing came to mind. The hole was surprisingly deep, and more stakes adorned the bottom that had not pierced flesh. Jumping down was too big a risk, especially if one considered the red liquid smeared onto the sharp tips of the sticks at the bottom. Some sort of venom, perhaps? In no way was he eager to find out, but there were not many other options around to offer help.
Suddenly, the chittered screaming around him intensified for a moment. He looked up to see another scavenger pointing a spear at something in some bushes just a few meters away. Several others that Chatterer only then noticed were actually rather close to where he sat looking into the hole and reacted by rushing over and pointing their spears as well. From his angle, he did not see what they were looking at, but it was obviously something they considered a threat. Eventually, after what sounded like many warnings, one of the nearest warriors raised their spear, took aim, and threw it forward.
The impact did not sound like it hit something solid but soft, like a body. Something splintered instead, wooden and fragile. Followed by a very short moment of something sizzling…
All too familiar with the sound, Chatterer’s eyes widened as he realized what the others had just triggered. Many of the scavengers nearest looked to have realized as well, but it was far too late for them to do anything to save themselves. The very air around whatever they’d thrown their weapon at almost seemed to ignite as the explosions went off. He threw himself to the ground, arms covering his head as he dropped the spear, and felt the shockwave run through his fur. He felt vibrations along the ground as shrapnel from nearby trees rocketed into the ground all around him. Whatever loose bombs had been used set off a chain reaction as several blasts occurred all over the place, the screaming of both Clobber and the other scavengers completely drowned out by ear-shattering noise.
He yelled as he practically felt sharp objects embed into the ground around him. Huge splinters caused by destroyed trees smashing down incredibly close but, by some miracle, narrowly missing him and not actually piercing his flesh. Chatterer’s ears rang even as the blasts had no doubt stopped, and though he would want nothing more than to stay lying on the ground forever, he knew he was nowhere near safe. The traps were planted by their enemies; they were in their home territory at that point, and they just gave away their precise position!
Slowly moving his arms and lifting his head, he was disturbed when he noted how much dust and smoke had been kicked into the air. Chatterer coughed as he raised his head, and he coughed even more when he felt the mask push against his face. He couldn’t f*cking breathe with it on, so with a frustrated grunt, he grabbed hold and pulled it up and off his face, throwing it to the side. His ears still rang, but when he looked down at Clobber, he saw they were still shrieking. The other’s mask was slanted to the side, allowing him to get a view of his wide, bloodied mouth as he screamed, his whole body twitching like they were commanding it to move, but it was completely unable to do so.
For a moment, he went back to trying to think of a solution, trying to think hard despite his ringing ears, irritated eyes, and limited vision. Maybe he could get a long stick and try to make them grab it? Would he even be strong enough to pull them out that way? Finally, the ringing started to fade, and so did Clobber’s screaming. They were still whimpering and groaning, coughing blood from time to time as they tried to move. His new hearing also made him aware of something else, however.
Ahead of him, there was a vague voice. It was barely audible over the ringing that, while lessened, still disoriented him. Looking up, he saw a scavenger splayed out on the ground, lying on their stomach and facing him. They seemed wounded, crawling along the ground and looking toward him with pleading, orange eyes. Knowing there was not much he could do for Clobber, Chatterer stood up to rush over and help the other scavenger. As he rose to his unsteady feet, head swimming for a short moment, he could vaguely make out movement behind the prone scavenger.
It was as that realization struck that whoever was behind the wounded one suddenly came close enough to be made out. A scavenger covered in what seemed like black paint, wearing pieces of a spider corpse upon their body like armor, stalked toward the one who was trying to crawl away. The wounded one started to crawl faster and looked to Chatterer for help as they heard their killer get closer, but the gray scav was frozen in fear as he watched the terrifying enemy approach. As they reach their victim, sitting down to straddle their back, the hurt scavenger’s struggles increase tenfold in panic.
The killer held a steadying hand to the back of the other’s head, lifting something that glinted in the sunlight into the air before stabbing down harshly into the victim’s exposed back. They yelped in pain, barely able to recover before the blade was shoved inside again. Chatterer could only watch in horror as his ally was stabbed over and over without mercy, the only sounds audible being the raspy breaths of the scav in the hole, the gasps of pain from the stabee growing ever weaker, and the quiet grunts of the one doing the stabbing. Finally, after what felt like hundreds of knife wounds, the scavenger on the bottom went fully limp and stopped reacting to the brutal shanking.
Unfortunately, that meant the scavenger had to find another target. As they pulled the knife free, the sharp blade dripping with fresh blood, their gaze slowly lifted. Chatterer flinched as the two locked eyes, and all he could see was hate. The total stranger ahead of him, the one who had just absolutely slaughtered one of his allies, glared at him as if he were a lifelong enemy. They slowly stood, their eyes still locked with his as they tilted their head. Suddenly realizing the danger he was in, Chatterer raised his hands in what he knew was a fruitless attempt to placate the other. As he started to back away, he saw something else in the enemy’s eyes besides hate and anger.
Hunger.
Searching for an escape, he turned to his right, back the way they had all come from. What might have been an easy escape earlier was not any longer; the ground was littered with wounded and dead, some from explosive damage, others from stabs or gouges in their flesh. There were more of the scavengers covered in armor, busy with taking care of their own kills, but no doubt still blocking his way out. Where the hell were they hiding when they walked into the clearing? In the trees?
Turning around quickly, Chatterer noted the way forward was not blocked, but it was wholly unexplored. More leaves littered the ground; no spot was not covered in them. Not only that, but what if there were more enemies inside the bushes or trees waiting for him if he actually managed to get past the no-doubt several traps that waited for the slightest misstep? Turning back to the hole, next to which he had left his spear, the gray scavenger considered for just a moment whether fighting was an option. Whether it was or not quickly became irrelevant as it was casually kicked into the hole by the one with the bloodied knife, still leisurely approaching him as if they had all the time in the world. Though they walked slowly, almost seeming like they were playing with their prey, the distance between them and Chatterer grew shorter and shorter.
Looking around for any other place to go only led to his gaze falling upon more scavengers being killed, whether they were from their side or from the side of the odd spider-wearing ones. More pits were visible further off in the clearing, in the direction where most of the fighting went on; more shouts of pain echoed and clangs of metal on metal as everyone else fought. If he stayed in place, he would no doubt get slaughtered.
Making up his mind, Chatterer whipped toward the direction leading closer to the colony they were to assault and started to run. As more leaves crunched underfoot, all he could do was hope and pray that he would not suddenly step on a patch that would give way and leave him tumbling down into a stake-filled pit. Every movement that produced a louder crunch than usual had him wincing and wanting to stop for a short moment to recollect himself or at least make an attempt to feel for the trapped areas. Unfortunately, the faster footsteps behind him let him know that the one with the knife broke into a sprint to catch him, and that thought only made him speed up.
Thankfully, by some miracle brought on by the void itself, he actually managed to make it back into the treeline. However, the small victory of not falling into a trap was very short-lived when he realized there were only more places for enemies to hide in the shrubbery all around. That wasn’t even mentioning the fact that the scav running after him was still hot on his tail, seemingly effortlessly moving past the trees and bushes and avoiding tripping over the large roots in the ground. Chatterer was not sure if he was imagining the fact that the footsteps sounded like they were getting closer, but he sure did not imagine the way the one who chased him whooped and cheered as they did. They enjoyed the chase; that much was obvious, but they did not enjoy it simply because they loved chasing; they enjoyed it because they would get to hurt him once they caught up.
And they were catching up; that much was obvious to him eventually. Their heavy breaths and panting got closer and closer as Chatterer ran. After a while, he started to wonder how much longer he would have to run, only for the answer to reveal itself to him. Finally, he saw what he hoped was his salvation! A break in the trees, leading out into what looked like a field through the little details he spotted when looking between the obscuring shrubbery. However, with the realization that his safety was close, so came the realization that the scavenger at his back would catch up before he reached the end of the run. Thus, there also came the realization that he would not be safe unless he took care of the threat.
Of course, considering his abilities in combat, Chatterer wanted nothing more than to try anything else. Unfortunately, no other choice was available! So despite the burning in his lungs and the pain in his legs, the gray scavenger forcibly skidded to a stop in the same move that he quickly twisted around and threw a blind punch. By divine luck, the wild haymaker connected with the side of the other’s head, and they grunted in pain and surprise. However, even if the knife was not ready for immediate stabbing, the enemy still swung it wildly even as they stumbled back. The sharp edge caught Chatterer in the forearm of his punching arm, and he hissed in pain as he felt the skin split open.
Stepping back, he put pressure on the wound, watching in dismay as the one with the knife still stood. They took a few steps back, shook their head slightly, and then looked at him again. “No more running.” The creepy scavenger spoke in a whispered voice, twirling the still-blood knife skillfully between their fingers as they stared Chatterer down. He was not in any shape to fight, barely able to provide his body with the oxygen needed as he breathed heavy enough to almost shudder. “You’re mine.” They giggled, their knife clutched tightly in their hand again as they walked closer.
Although terrified and all too aware he had next to no chance in the coming brawl, Chatterer had no choice but to raise his fists, trying his best to ignore the feeling of warm blood running down his arm and the stinging pain that came with it. However, just as the other came close enough to make a move, a thunderous war cry sounded right behind them. Both scavengers jumped in surprise, the killer with the knife turning around.
Just in time to see a spear heading for them.
There was no time at all to dodge; they only had time to gasp before their chest was punctured and the projectile lodged in them. With a groan, they took a step backward, then two, then collapsed onto their back. Almost as soon as Chatterer’s would-be killer hit the ground dead, the scavenger who had saved him stepped out of the bushes, swiftly followed by a bunch more scavs that the gray scavenger recognized as being on his side. Rushing past, they paid him absolutely no mind and instead sprinted into the field, where the sounds of warfare immediately became clear once again.
He flinched as an explosion went off behind him, and his savior grabbed hold of the spear and ripped it out, bent down to pick up the downed enemy’s blade, and then straightened. For a moment, they studied the weapon, then glanced over at Chatterer, who stood awkwardly to the side, watching. With a hum, they turned it over in their hand and handed it to him handle first. Though he was hesitant, he reached out and accepted the small knife. The stranger nodded slowly, and then, without any words exchanged, suddenly yelled and charged out of the trees toward the combat in the field.
As the deafening sounds of scavengers killing each other somehow stepped up in intensity, Chatterer felt his stomach drop. There was enough violence and chaos when only faced with a small group that ambushed him and the others; how much of the same would occur against a larger group? Despite his previous determination to see it all through, he realized he’d already seen his fair share of combat. Looking toward the end of the field he was right next to, he spotted a pipe that no doubt would lead away from the battlefield.
With his heavy heart weighed with an odd combination of relief and shame, Chatterer quickly dashed toward the pipe, trying his best not to flinch at the loud noises occurring on his other side as he moved as quickly as possible. Somehow, he managed to reach the pipe without issue and threw himself inside. The crawl was thankfully fairly short, and he sighed in relief when he climbed out on the other side and straightened himself. Finally, he could surely recover!
The relief disappeared just as swiftly as it came when he looked around at the place he had dropped into. A fairly dark area, sunbeams were overshadowed by a large number of trees that choked a lot of the light out of the area. Despite the gloom, bodies were able to be made out among the ground. Some were painted black, much like the ones he saw back in the clearing where Clobber had fallen, but he also saw some that were no doubt part of his team.
In the middle of it all, holding a bloodied, long blade and covered in viscera, stood a white scavenger. They stood on shaky legs, trembling slightly as they stared out ahead in the same direction that Chatterer knew some of their squad would come from. That was, if the white (at that point mostly red) scavenger had not yet slain them all. A part of him hoped the one in front of him would not have noticed his appearance at all, but those hopes were swiftly dashed as the scavenger suddenly turned their head to look in his direction. He froze under the cold and cruel gaze of the other’s blue eye, which almost seemed to glow in the darkness. A mask that had many colorful pearls hanging off it adorned the other’s face, the strung-up objects swaying slightly with every moment.
With their eye still affixed to him, they turned the rest of their body, eventually looking Chatterer over with both eyes, the other shining a brilliant green as they seemed to study him closely. The gray scavenger stared back for a moment before his gaze moved down to the bloodied blade on the other’s side, then finally looked at his newly acquired knife.
“Um…” He looked back at the other scavenger, who tilted their head in curiosity. “How about we… talk this out?” Chatterer smiled nervously and shrugged, trying his best to look as casual and relaxed as possible.
He kept it up well until the other scavenger straightened out, their grip on the handle of their blood-drenched blade tightening as Chatterer imagined they wickedly smiled under their mask.
Chatterer’s smile dropped, and he swallowed loudly. “Oh boy…”
More fresh, warm blood splashed onto King as he blindly swung his blade in the general direction of his targets. They were a clever and underhanded bunch, trying to surround him whenever possible and making use of the dirt from the ground to blind him. But even when disoriented and unable to see properly, he struck true every single time! Lowering his weapon for just a moment to wipe the grime and mud out of his eyes, he found it amusing that no one took the chance to charge forward or throw a projectile at him while he was preoccupied. His enemies were obviously terrified of him, constantly trying to keep some semblance of organization within what little of their group remained by shouting orders at each other. Still, despite trying their best to keep brave faces, King could see a tiny spark of fear behind their eyes, and that only spurred him on to keep fighting.
The point of his was further proven when he finally cleared his eyes and got a look at the weaklings in front of him. They huddled together, the three that still remained, staring at him with apprehension as the blood-covered scavenger tilted his head at them with a small grin. One of the trio had a long, bleeding wound over their chest, no doubt the one that had been made even as he was blind and swinging for the fences. Maybe they were the one scav in the group who had actually tried to charge him while he was blinded? King wanted to laugh; they charged forward without even considering he would lash out. A rookie mistake—was he fighting warriors or mere pathetic scouts?
Had to be the latter; no true fighter would cower as the ones in front of him did, eyes shifting and heads turning slightly to try to find an exit as King simply stood there. He waited for one of them to throw a spear, to charge him, to do anything at all besides just gawk! It was getting boring, and he really considered for a moment how in the hell some of his own warriors lost to the pathetic bunch. Reminded of the fact, he glanced down at the corpse of his own that lay nearest, their own knife that had been taken from them still lodged in the side of their neck as they lay face down in a pool of their own blood. Disarmed by the very blade they held in their hand and then used to kill them…
It demonstrated a lack of skill, quite obviously. King’s hands were smeared in slippery crimson, and yet his grip on the handle of the sharp blade that still dripped with fresh blood remained sturdy and impossible to shake, no matter how many times his challengers tried to disarm him. Speaking of his challengers, they still made no move to attack, even as his head was turned to the side to look at something else. The white scavenger could understand not wanting to charge forward and try something close-range; he had already proven his ability to easily wipe the floor with anyone there when it came to close-quarters combat, but he did not understand why none of them could even throw their weapons at him.
Finally, his patience reached its limit. Were they waiting for the bodies all around them to rot and bring in flies? Because that would happen either way; if anything, he would save them the displeasure of having to experience the smell. “Well?” King eventually said, unable to stop himself from smirking even wider when the trio flinched at the sudden sound of his voice. The tone was far more scratchy and hoarse than usual, thanks to the constant screaming he had done earlier to shout commands at his warriors. Considering they were all dead at that point, there was no more reason to shout loudly. “Are we gonna get to fighting, or are you lot too busy pissing yourselves?”
The taunting finally got him the results he wanted! Surprisingly, it was the one that was the most wounded that lunged forward, a look of angry determination on their face as they swung the spear in their hands toward his head. f*cking amateur. With their defense completely left open, all King did was lunge forward as well, lowering his head and ramming his antlers into the other’s face. For what he was sure was the millionth time that battle, he cackled as he heard the other’s gasp and chitter in fear, not even letting their friend hit the ground before he closed in on them.
Perhaps the two thought they could stand to the side and wait for a chance to jump in and catch him off-guard, but they sure as hell had not expected King to catch them unalert! They were too busy wincing and flinching to properly protect any vitals; a slashed neck to the first that was quickly followed by a deep stab wound through the chest of the other took them both down faster than they could ever hope to react. After watching the light leave the other’s eyes and hearing their spear clatter to the ground uselessly, he pulled his weapon loose and let the lifeless body crumple to the ground.
Looking down at the corpse, King almost hoped it would move again. Hoped it would rise to its feet and try to attack him, no longer fueled by a coward but fueled by pure hatred for the white scavenger, as it wanted nothing more than to tear him apart. At least then it would feel like a proper fight! Unfortunately, that obviously did not happen. Not even when he lightly kicked at the corpse’s leg with a small grunt. “Pathetic…” He sighed, rolling his eyes and reaching up to adjust his mask.
A sudden sting to his right leg made him flinch, accidentally knocking his mask off-kilt as he hissed in pain. Reflexively, King kicked backward with his other leg, catching something solid that grunted in response. With a stumble, he took a step forward, the blade stabbed into his flesh pulling loose. He whipped around with a scowl, ready to take on the third bastard, who was no doubt moving to close the gap…
Only to find them on the ground still, clutching a bleeding face as they squirmed. The bloodied knife in their hand, the one King recognized as previously having been embedded in one of his own dead warrior's necks, immediately painted a picture of what had stabbed him. Seeing as his sad excuse of an opponent did not seem all too keen on getting up to attack, the white scavenger turned his head and glanced down at his wound. A small hole in his calf, not bleeding all that severely as it was, but still fairly painful. Not to mention, he would have a slightly harder time walking until it was healed.
What a pain in the ass! f*cker couldn’t even deal any proper damage beyond causing an annoyance, even when in a perfect position to really f*ck him up. Stumbling closer to the prone victim, King did not even care to bother trying to get a challenge from them. As soon as he got close enough, he raised his blade and took aim, the one below him stupidly moving their arms as they no doubt planned to do some sort of pathetic maneuver that would buy just a bit more time in the cycle.
All the movement did was offer a perfect strike to their face.
Before the other scavenger could even react to their incoming death at all, the sharp edge connected. A loud squelch split the air as more blood rocketed all the way onto King’s chest. At the very least, the white scavenger had gotten his wish of grand warfare! He pulled his weapon loose, whipping it in the air a few times to try to get rid of some of the fresh blood dripping from its blade.
The scavenger below him gurgled and still moved slightly, but they did not deserve a merciful kill from his blade. He spat upon the dying one instead. “Weak piece of garbage.” King muttered as he turned away from the waste of time and looked out into the deeper part of the woods in the direction from which the first squad he just got done slaughtering had come from.
Surely there would be more? He was far from done, his whole frame shivering from excitement as he stood and waited. King tested his wounded leg, finding it surprisingly easy to stand on despite the injury. Good, that meant he could fight on for even longer before falling! As the sounds of agony eventually faded and died down with his last victim, the white scavenger could see movement further ahead by some of the tightly packed tree trunks.
More enemies approached! And they were far enough away that they would not, for a moment, be able to realize what had happened to the last group! Which also meant King could use stealth to his advantage, and seeing as he was the final one of his small squad remaining, hiding completely from sight would be far easier. But where would he hide? In the trees, perhaps? They were of perfect height to climb into, and they were covered in enough leaves that stealth would be easy! Simple bushes were also a great choice, even if they were a bit more at risk due to being checked more often. Otherwise, he could always go for the tall grass once again.
His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a sound coming from somewhere behind him. King froze, listening in to make sure he had not imagined what he heard. As he expected, there was definitely the very slight sound of something shifting. Had someone come through the pipe? Was it an ally? If so, why were they not saying anything? Turning his head, the white scavenger looked behind him to get some sort of confirmation from the sudden appearance, ready to respond with indignant anger if one of his warriors just crawled through and interrupted him in the midst of his fun.
The scavenger that had crawled through the tunnel was not one of his warriors—far from it, in fact. They had gray fur, were a bit shorter than he was (either that or they were very hunched in on themselves), and had yellow eyes that slanted downward. Any threatening effect the unique eyes normally would hold for any other scavenger was completely lost by the fact that the stranger did not look confident at all. Every part of their body language spoke of fear and apprehension, not exactly any sign of a warrior inside of them. At the same time, the other barely even had a weapon, either. From what King had seen thus far, each of his previous targets had a spear of some kind in their hands. His warriors had knives instead, but none of their foes wielded the same shorter blades.
But the one that just passed through the pipe did—one that had its edge smeared in fresh blood. He had no clue why that was; the one in front of him did not seem confident enough to even stab a f*cking batfly to death (provided they managed to catch it!). Surely none of his warriors fell to the bastard in front of him? King turned his whole body around, studying the other scavenger closer for any sign of actual combat. Their fur was all too clean compared to the knife, not spattered in a single drop of blood. Could it be that he’d just stolen the knife from a dead body? If so, what the hell happened to his own weapon? Did he even have one from the start?
After a short moment, the gray one’s gaze slowly moved downward, their eyes stopping at King’s blade. He tensed his grip on it in response, tilting his head as they then looked over at their own weapon with a small wince on their face. “Um…” The scavenger’s voice was soft and weak as they looked back at him, trying to look casual but failing really hard at it. “How about we… talk this out?” They added lamely, almost following it up with an awkward shrug before stopping themselves.
Previous confusion was replaced with excitement as King smiled wickedly and tightened the hold on his weapon handle even further, the blade shaking slightly. He supposed he may as well have a bit of a warm-up before the main course! Though the other scavenger would be no match, he was not one to deny himself some more bloodshed. After all, there was no point in letting anyone go to come back and cause trouble later; everyone had to be wiped out!
Seemingly realizing their attempts at dissuading incoming combat failed, their smile sunk and their expression dropped. “Oh boy…” The gray scavenger muttered, face twisting into fear as King started to stalk forward. “S-Stay back!” Any semblance of calm was long gone from the other as they held the knife clumsily in his direction. They handled the weapon no better than a kit, and it made him laugh loudly, the sound only serving to further unnerve his opponent. “I-I’m warning you!” Their voice broke in the middle of the “threat” as King reached his free hand toward them.
Closing their eyes, the scavenger swung the knife clumsily in his direction. King easily intercepted the swing, catching the other’s wrist in a steady grip and squeezing. Their eyes opened, and he leaned in to glare right at them through the eyeholes of his mask. As he squeezed even tighter, he enjoyed the way their face morphed into a delicious combination of dread, pain, and fear. The knife that was never even held onto in all that strong a grip tumbled to the ground, and King immediately followed the disarm up with a leg sweep. His victim yelped and fell to the ground as the white scavenger released them for just a moment.
They hit their back against the ground hard, and King wasted no time in using it to his advantage, crouching down and pinning the other with a hand to their throat. “Ack! O-Okay, I see you are a man of action! That is fine by me! But y’see, I’m not all that experienced with stuff of this caliber!” As they rifled on, the rant brought on more by desperation than an attempt to distract King, he started to consider what he would do to the other. “Listen, you are obviously a great warrior! A strong fighter, judging by all the… corpses… strewn about.”
For a moment, the scavenger’s face paled as he glanced to the side and saw the bloody results of one of King’s enemies. Impressively quickly, they collected themselves and cleared their throat. “Like I said, man of action! However, I am very much a man of reason! So, what I propose… is that we discuss all of this, yes? There is no need for violence when we can simply discuss with one another.” Getting sick of the rambling, the white scavenger narrowed his eyes and twirled his blade slightly, tightening his hold on the other’s throat. “L-Listen, how about I start by telling you one thing I like about you? One thing I appreciate about you! Then you tell me something you appreciate about me, and we go back and forth for a bit, eh? Get to know each other a little better!”
Barely listening to what the guy beneath him was saying, King hummed and nodded, smiling as the gray scavenger’s expression and body language relaxed slightly. Locking his gaze on the other’s lanky limbs, he chuckled quietly. “I think I’ll start with your arms.” He whispered, slowly looking back at their face.
Almost immediately, their expression twisted in horror. “N-Now, hold on… You don’t have to do this!” Finally realizing that King may not see any reason not to use the very sharp blade in his possession, the gray scavenger struggled slightly once again.
He applied a bit more pressure in response, forcing the other to remain still as he raised his blade. Unable to speak due to the hand on their throat, they could only raise their arms in a pathetic defense. Well, that worked well for what he had planned! King felt himself shake in excitement once again as he held the blade high, ready to chop down with all his strength. Sometimes the cycle is generous to me.
His plan was suddenly cut short, unfortunately. Right before his chop downward, something struck against his back. King stopped in the middle of what he planned to do, more so in confusion than anything else. However, as he saw the horrified scavenger beneath him spattered in a bit of blood, he looked downward toward his torso. A sharp, bloodied speartip greeted him, jutting out of his right side.
Hm, it seemed, in his excitement, that King had completely forgotten about the fact that more enemies were approaching behind him. “f*ck.” He deadpanned, barely even feeling any pain as the weapon was ripped free and he tumbled to the side.
Watcher walked with determined steps as he led his small squad, containing a mix of warriors and scouts, deeper into the woods in the general direction of where the pipe was. He himself hadn’t seen the tunnel at all, but according to the accounts of his (previous Chieftain’s) scouts, it was located in a sort of wall that cut off the length of the field from the thick woods he walked through at that very moment. However, the wall was apparently not infinitely long on either side, which was what allowed him to make plans for a sort of pincer maneuver. While a smaller part of the men and women he had at his disposal would take the path through the tunnel, serving to draw attention while also attempting to deal a lot of damage, the rest of the small army would emerge from the trees on either side of the defending force to close them inside the so-called pincer.
It was the most obvious plan that came to mind, but it was the one he decided to go with. After all, Watcher doubted the slugcats had any sort of fighting force that even came close to rivaling his own! Even if they saw the attack coming the way it did, the enemies had no real way to counter it. The members of the slugcat colony were vastly outnumbered and outarmed, and they would fall easy! He could not help but smirk slightly, ignoring the small itch that followed the action as his facial muscles stretched. In the end, it would not matter that the ones they faced had the help of their strongest warrior, the “Red Death,” as she had taken to call herself.
His smirk twisted into an expression of anger at the thought of the slugcat as he lifted his mask very slightly, only to spit on the ground before readjusting it to fit snugly once again. Watcher felt some of the scavengers behind him stare in confusion, so he glanced back to give them a challenging glare, daring them to speak up about whatever seemed to be bothering them. They turned away nervously, looking out into the treeline to ensure their group would not be assaulted from the sides. He huffed and looked forward again, his skin still prickling slightly with anger. The beast, the one that had torn him apart so many cycles ago... He was about to meet her again. Not only meet, but most likely also get to defeat her in one-on-one combat! Many times, he made it clear to the other members of the tribe that they were not to kill or seriously wound the maroon slugcat, but they were to defeat her in combat and then hold her until he could come around to challenge her.
He figured it was only fair that he was owed that at the very least. Finally, a chance to reclaim the pride that the little bastard took from him on that very cycle. According to some reports from those in Chieftain’s tribe who had interacted with her most recently, she had changed in some ways. Well, they did not really need to tell Watcher that in retrospect. Just the fact that they were able to speak of an experience involving the Red Death herself that did not end in their untimely demise was proof enough of the fact that her burning rage towards their kind had simmered down. Hell, she even decided to get a new mate in a scavenger, of all things!
The sounds of distant explosions made him put all of his angered thoughts on hold for only a very short moment as he glanced back at his warriors and gestured for them to spread out a little bit more. Even though Watcher did not think the slugcats would be smart enough or have had enough time or consideration to put a lot of traps down in the one spot that was easier to defend than the others, taking chances would be a very bad idea. They moved a bit slower, trying to ignore the distant sounds of fighting that had started to originate from the direction they were walking towards. At the very least, it was a confirmation that they were no doubt heading in the correct direction, if nothing else!
With the situation temporarily handled, Watcher let his mind wander to Red Death yet again. Maybe she felt bad about what she’d done in the past, regretted her murders, and wanted to better herself in some way. Not that that mattered to Watcher in the end! Whether or not she was trying to move on from what she used to be, he still had one hell of a score to settle! He would enjoy taking her down, once and for all! Proving to himself and to everyone else that he was a stronger warrior than she could ever hope to be and that the one grisly defeat he suffered at the hands of her claws and teeth was only a one-time thing in the end. The scavenger had been caught off-guard, that was all. How could he have expected that she would suddenly go all feral on every member of the toll? Especially considering she had tried to run and been hit by the blast of a grenade before any of that even happened! Watcher had definitely considered the battle won already, only for the slugcat to suddenly emerge from the pool of water she had dove into to tear into them.
But in the end, the Red Death was not even his top priority. The thirst for seeing her defeated came barely second to the hunger for beating his former “leader” in combat! Chieftain, that backstabbing traitor, was his first target. While Watcher definitely despised the slugcat beast for f*cking up his face and the rest of his body in her rush of brutality, he only felt absolute hatred for the older scavenger that had discarded him and his group like trash afterward. Not only did he take the side of the slugcat over his own people, but he did not even wait to listen to his side of the story before taking the decision. Watcher did not get to defend himself in any way; he was not even in the throne room with the rest of his group when the rain deer sh*t went down.
Then, he walked to the throne room to try to get some answers for himself, using a spear for balance as he limped over to try to get his leader to see reason. Only for Chieftain to address him coldly the whole while, holding a spear of his own as he glared at him like he was never even an ally to begin with. Like he was and always had been a threat that could not be trusted. After all that Watcher had sacrificed for the tribe, after all the hard work he’d put in, after only following the f*cking orders he and his group had been given when it came to the toll…
Watcher and the rest were thrown away. Like the five of them had always been disposable to the tribe, like they were never worth anything at all!
The very same rage that always prickled just underneath his skin ever since that cycle boiled up as they started to come close to the location his scouts had marked out. It was an uncomfortable, but also pleasant, burn that heightened his senses. Watcher’s face twisted into a scowl at the idea of getting to stare into Chieftain’s eyes through his mask, imagining seeing his expression as smug and laid back. co*cky and confident up until he managed to break through the other’s defense, quickly shifting into one of fear as he realized he was about to be killed. He would soak that realization in at that moment and stop for just a second to enjoy the other’s fear and anguish before stabbing through his throat and ending their little feud once and for all, proving him stronger.
Either that, or he could make use of the small sack that was tied to his right side instead. After all, Watcher still really wanted to see what the blue, writhing mass of tentacles could do to another organic body if accidentally consumed or implanted through a wound or orifice.
Knowing he was coming up on the destination leading into warfare, Watcher decided to put the rest of his angry thoughts into the back of his mind for the moment. It would be more useful to make use of his anger and rage over every way he was wronged when he faced down the two reasons behind all of his suffering, after all. However, even as he stored away the thoughts for later and figured he would have at least a little time to gather his thoughts before going into full combat mode, he was immediately proven wrong when he walked past a tree trunk and the tunnel they would pass through finally came into view.
What Watcher expected to see was an empty pipe with nothing surrounding it, clear proof that the entrance picked out was safe and that the groups of warriors walking ahead of the one he led had gotten through to the other side without issue. Instead, what he saw made his stomach drop in dread. There were bodies strewn all over the place, their outlines easily visible even through the slight gloom of the tightly packed trees. He was saddened to see a few of his own on the ground, but was more confused when he also saw several scavengers he did not recognize at all. The unknown scavengers wore some sort of armor that could not easily be made out in the dark and were covered head to toe in some sort of black paint that almost made them look like simple silhouettes in the darkness.
There had been a bloody and brutal skirmish between Watcher’s warriors and the unknown ones; that much was clear. He cursed his own decision to not keep scouts monitoring his enemies for just a bit longer after getting confirmation of how small the group was several cycles ago. Of course the bastards would have gotten some kind of help from another tribe; he should have seen such a choice coming! It was obvious from the way the enemies were camouflaged that they were specifically set up to fight in stealthy environments.
However, this begged the question of how so many had been killed in the first place and if they were meant to stay stealthy and not let their presence be all that known. Letting his gaze wander over the corpses as he heard the scavengers behind him mumble and whisper among themselves in fear, Watcher caught movement closest to the pipe at the very end of the strewn collection of bodies.
A struggle was only barely visible in the dark, a scavenger with a white coat (absolutely drenched in blood) clearly holding someone down. Someone who sported gray fur and did not wear a mask had a voice so audible that Watcher, despite not being able to catch any of the words uttered, immediately recognized the other as a friend. “Oh, sh*t.” Watcher muttered, stepping forward and quickly moving to the struggle, his spear clutched tightly in his hands.
He reached the two just in time, and as the white-furred one at the top raised their weapon to strike, Watcher thrust his spear forward. Aiming low with the intention of making the enemy curl in on themselves in pain and drop the weapon rather than try to finish the strike, his stab struck the other through their left side. They jumped in surprise, pearls that hung off their mask quietly hitting each other as they glanced down at the weapon sticking through them and mumbled something he could not make out.
With a grunt, he pulled his weapon free, ignoring the small ache that was everpresent in his arms as he did, and the scavenger that had been about to finish off his friend tumbled to the side and off Chatterer. He only spared the enemy a single glance to ensure they would not want to get up and try to attack him, quickly shifting his focus to the gray scavenger that lay prone on his back. Though obviously shocked, frozen in fear, and breathing heavily, he did not seem hurt in any meaningful way. There was a light splatter of blood covering part of his chest, but it had come from the one who was just about to kill him and not from any sort of wound. Still, despite feeling some semblance of… he supposed relief that the other was not chopped to bits, Watcher was still confused over what in the world the other was doing by the pipe.
Last time they’d seen each other, he was moving with a larger part of the attacking force on the left side from the pipe’s direction, so how the hell did he end up where he could be seen by Watcher? Deciding to get the shaken one to his feet before trying to ask any questions, the larger scavenger extended a hand for the other to grab. When a small amount of time passed without the other reacting, head turned to the side and gaze locked on the still-breathing, prone form of the white one, Watcher huffed and reached down to pull the other up by the scruff of fur on his chest instead.
Chatterer yelped as he was pulled to his feet, fear overtaken by surprise, quickly followed by indignance as he swatted at the other’s arm. He decided to be merciful and let go as soon as the other was properly upright. “Void, Watcher! Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to lay your hands on someone else without their permission?” The gray scavenger took a moment to dust himself off after delivering the scolding.
“Not something that was taught to me… No." He muttered in response, rolling his eyes at the other’s overreaction. What was he meant to do? Just leave Chatterer to stay on the floor? No doubt he would have complained about such a choice as well!
Predictably, the truth did not do much to dissuade Chatterer’s frustration as he looked up from his dusting off and opened his mouth to speak. Then he interrupted himself, his eyes shifting to something behind the taller scavenger as they narrowed, and he crossed his arms. “Do you mind?”
Momentarily confused, Watcher turned around to see what his ally was looking at, confusion turning to disgruntled frustration when the other scavengers following behind him all glanced away and acted like they were not trying to spy on their conversation. “I believe you all have better things to do.” He muttered as he straightened to his full height and stared them all down in turn.
As quickly as they had pretended not to listen to their conversation, the squad all nodded and turned to the pipe, hurrying to climb through the tunnel into the battlefield that was audibly still raging on. Only when they were all gone did Watcher relax his posture, trying his best to ignore the lingering pain settling on his back in the spot he knew was painted with large scars made by sharp claws.
With the interruption gone, Chatterer seemed like he was going to go back to complaining. However, as the scarred one of the two winced slightly in pain, his expression of anger softened just a bit. “Eh, forget it.” He mumbled, shaking his head slowly as he tried to keep some frustration in his voice. “I shouldn’t be angry at you. Especially since you saved my life and all…” As he begrudgingly gave Watcher his thanks for the rescue, the gray scavenger slouched slightly, his arms hanging limply by his sides.
Glancing down at the other's arms as they did, Watcher noted a small stream of blood running down from a slash in his right forearm. It did not look life-threatening, but it still bled and did not exactly seem to be painless. “You are hurt.” He muttered simply, pointing at the wound when Chatterer looked at him in confusion.
The gray one glanced at the cut in his arm, waving his left hand dismissively with a huff when he saw the wound. “It’s a small cut; I’ll be fine!” He turned his head away as he tried to wave the other off, giving Watcher a perfect opportunity to reach out and study the wound closer. It was one he immediately took, grabbing hold of the other’s wrist and lifting their arm to be able to study the wound. “Wha-? Hey!” As he’d expected, Chatterer immediately started to squirm to try to escape his hold. Watcher paid his attempts no mind, focusing solely on the cut that still bled. “Void, you’re annoying.” His patient eventually sighed, giving up on his struggles and resigning himself to the fate of being studied by the other scavenger.
Watcher’s left hand did not shake or hurt as much as it had earlier, as he reached a hand down to the pocket on his side and carefully extracted a small strip of cloth that resided inside next to the jar filled with what he liked to call his pain medication. Though he very well could have put a little of the slime on the homemade bandage to ease the other’s pain, Chatterer had made it clear the wound was not so bad. Not to mention, what little he had been taught about bloody cuts from Caregiver came back to his mind, and he considered the wound to be minor at most.
Besides, he did not want to share what remained of his salve; it was a f*cking pain to go and fetch more when it ran low.
Carefully but firmly, the taller scavenger wrapped the cloth around the small cut, noting the slight wince from the other as he securely tightened it to ensure it would not come loose too easily. Once finally done, Watcher spent a short moment looking over his simple handiwork, and once he found it satisfying, he finally let the other’s wrist go. Though obviously still annoyed, Chatterer gave him a thankful nod as he studied the wrapping for a moment. Satisfied with the work as well, the gray scavenger glanced down at the downed enemy, who still lay in the dirt, apprehension on his face as if they would suddenly get up and lunge toward him once again.
The other scavenger did not feel the same fear; even if the wound he had inflicted was not lethal or dehabilitating, he did not doubt that the very last thing on the white scavenger’s mind would be revenge. That was, unless they were really stupid and honestly thought they could have a chance. Considering that option, Watcher took a step closer to the enemy’s right arm, where the dropped, bloodied blade lay. For a moment, he considered taking it for himself, but the thought swiftly passed when he noticed the vast amount of sticky, fresh blood that coated the entire thing from top to bottom. Instead, he kicked it into the nearby bushes with a grunt, glancing down at the wounded one to see if they had any reaction to their weapon being moved.
They did not, so Watcher felt safe enough to look away from them and toward Chatterer instead. With the opportunity to talk without getting scolded for something, he decided to try to get an answer to the biggest question that burned in his mind. “Speaking of having to save your ass…” He punctuated the sentence with a small prod at the other’s chest, an action that made Chatterer look pissed off all over again as the larger of the two snickered before continuing. “Why are you over here? I thought you would be walking into the action from the treeline on the left side of the field; it’s where I last saw you.” As Watcher considered what the gray one looked like before they parted ways before that moment, he also noticed another odd detail. “Also, where the hell did your mask go?” It was one thing to lose one’s way or misunderstand orders in some way, but to be able to lose a mask that was snugly strapped to your face seemed very odd!
As he got busy considering how in hell the mask could have gone missing besides the obvious reason of the straps being cut off in a struggle (judging by the lack of blood around the head and no signs of Chatterer having been in a scuffle, the option did not seem likely), his ally decided to jump to his own defense. “The mask was not only weighing down on my head; its straps were also far too tight around my head!” Watcher sighed, lifting a hand to his face as he considered lifting the mask that was almost always pressed close to his aching flesh, if only to facepalm. The sign of the other’s frustration only made Chatterer even more defensive as he scoffed. “It was nothing but an annoyance! Hard to breathe through too, compressing my whole face!”
Sick and tired of the other’s frequent complaining, Watcher struck one end of his spear into the stony soil that took over the grassy area nearest the pipe, the sharp tip embedding slightly but still making a rather audible noise that made Chatterer flinch. “Wearing a warrior’s mask is an honor and not one to be taken for granted!” It was a lesson that had been drilled into his head long ago, ever since he accepted his own elite mask that he still wore upon his face (although for an altogether different reason than when he first had it granted to him).
Annoyingly, that point seemed to be one of the few moments the coward ahead of him actually gained a backbone, recovering from the shock of the sudden aggression as he scoffed. “There is no honor in it at all, Watcher. The masks have always been a symbol of violence and warfare only for the sake of it; there is no honor at all in such actions.” If the sentences uttered were meant to calm him, they did not do a good job at all.
He growled lowly, the grip on his spear tightening as he leaned in slightly, looming over the other as he glared threateningly into his eyes. “Watch your tone.” Watcher’s voice was barely above a mumble, but it was still audible enough. Before Chatterer had time to say something else on the matter that would piss him off even more, he moved on to get an answer to the final question still burning in his mind. “You still haven’t answered my other question.” Despite still feeling rage burning in his chest, he kept in mind what he considered earlier: that he would save the most of his anger for later on, when it was truly needed. Considering this, he leaned back and away, relaxing his posture slightly. He was angry, yes, but starting a fight with the other scavenger would not help the current situation in any way. “Why are you even here? Right at this spot? It is not where you were assigned.”
Almost immediately, Chatterer’s angered expression faded. It gave way to something more akin to guilt and shame, which made Watcher narrow his eye. “Um… About that, y'see, when we got fairly close to the field of the fighting-” The sound of an explosion far closer than any previous ones made both the scavengers flinch and turn their heads to the pipe, noting that the tunnel shook slightly from the sheer impact.
They kept staring even when it stopped, both tense and ready for someone to come out and face them. Instead, the two were caught by immense surprise when a mangled corpse fell right out of the air and landed right next to them! Watcher spun with his spear at the ready, relaxing swiftly when he noted what made the noise as Chatterer simply gasped loudly in surprise. A small amount of smoke rose from the charred body; the smell of burnt fur and flesh in the air made the taller of the two wrinkle his nose in disgust. Meanwhile, the second half of the two, not as used to the smell of miscellaneous causes of death, gagged both at the sight and the smell as they combined into a sickly attack on the senses.
Watcher sighed and shook his head, glancing at the pipe at the sound of more explosions going off. What the hell were they even doing? Standing around and arguing about useless sh*t while the full-on war went on through the very tunnel they were standing next to. Considering the inclusion of another faction allied with the slugcats, the warriors no doubt needed help. They had not been briefed or in any way prepared to fight more than a few enemeis, and who knew how many allies their enemies had managed to gather? Both he and Chatterer were needed on the battlefield with the others!
Reminded of the situation surrounding enemy scavengers, he looked back to where the white scavenger had fallen, not surprised at all to see them completely missing. There was a small blood trail leading into the bushes in the same direction as he kicked their weapon, but Watcher definitely did not feel like creeping inside and trying to find them, especially if they’d gotten their hands on the bloodied blade once again. With a grunt, Watcher shook his head and twirled his spear to hold it more comfortably, flicking some of the white scavenger’s blood onto the ground as he did.
Chatterer still seemed frozen at the sight of the mangled corpse, but Watcher snapped him out of it by speaking up. “Forget it all. We are wasting precious time by standing here and arguing over nothing; let us go!” The other scavenger opened his mouth to say something, but he was not interested in hearing him out, so he turned away to show the conversation was over.
As he quickly walked over to the pipe, peeking inside to ensure no enemy immediately waited for them, Watcher noted the other scavenger was not following immediately behind him. I swear to the void if he tries to run… His thoughts were thankfully cut off as footsteps slowly approached along with quiet muttering that the taller decided to ignore for Chatterer’s sake.
Finding the way forward to be clear enough, he glanced over at the other scavenger, who stopped next to him to look through the tunnel as well. Only then did he note that Chatterer not only discarded his mask but also lost his weapon! Where the hell had his spear gone? “I hope you’re not planning on going out into the chaos through this tunnel with nothing to defend yourself.” He deadpanned, his voice making the other jump slightly before glancing around sheepishly.
Eventually, the gray scavenger glanced down on the ground between the two, his slanted eyes lighting up as he spotted something and bent down to pick it up. Watcher merely stared as the other straightened out again, holding a knife in his hand. Not only was the blade sullied with sticky blood and dirt, but it was also fairly short. While a skilled warrior could definitely do a lot of damage with something as agile and quick as a sharp knife or other improvised scrap of metal or bone, Chatterer had nowhere near the skills to use such a weapon to its fullest potential. It was a fact immediately proven clear when he clumsily swung it around and almost slashed Watcher in the arm with it.
Watcher huffed in part amusem*nt and part frustration as he slowly shook his head. “I’ll simply have to watch your back.” He mumbled, barely able to hold back a chuckle as the gray scavenger deflated slightly and gave him a withering look combined with one of frustration. “Now come on. As long as you stay close and listen to what I say, you should be fine.”
“Sh-Should?”
The familiar sound of Artificer’s tail slamming against the ground turned into a signal for Hunter. It was a sign that the combat had truly begun, and as his friend rocketed forward toward the first unfortunate scavenger that walked through the smoke in front, he rushed forward as well with a snarl. Hesitation was for the weak, and stopping to think things through or plan would not help the situation at all. Even if he’d not already been ready to fight for everything he loved and cared for, the shrill, muffled cries of his pup from inside the tree were more than enough to spur him into full-on action.
Hesitation is weakness. Very clearly a lesson his very first opponent never learned, their eyes wide as Hunter charged towards them. His enemy almost looked scared; despite being shrouded partly in smoke, their yellow eyes no doubt held something akin to terror. There was no anger directed towards him, no burning fury that told him they would not hesitate to kill each and every one of them if given the chance. Instead, they were fearful, not looking at Hunter like he was an opponent but a feral animal closing the gap to maul them to death.
Considering the anger rippling through him, Hunter would not be surprised if that were the case. Not only did he charge into action to protect his pup, but his thoughts swiftly drifted to Surv as well. His love, the one and only, he would give the world and more for both his mate and their pup. But one part of his world, of his home, had been ripped out of his paws! They had him, and void knew what the hell they planned to, or void f*cking forbid, already had done to him while in captivity.
Despite his enemy not seeming much of a threat and Hunter’s slight apprehension at slaughtering the other, his momentum carried, and the hesitation that could lead to death slipped as he skillfully brought his spear forward and stabbed. At the very least, he offered a quick death, one that was accepted by the enemy as their neck was pierced, eyes wide in shock, more so than pain, as Hunter ripped it loose. Before the body had even crumbled, he was forced to weave to the side to avoid a second enemy stabbing toward him, backpedaling as swiftly as possible to slip into the smoke as another scavenger tried to join and gang up on the slugcat.
While the very first kills were memorable and required a semblance of focus, he very quickly got into the rhythm of killing. Scav after scav fell before him, either grievously wounded, swiftly bleeding to death, or dead even before they hit the ground. The enemies, the ones who previously had faces, almost became blurred out as Hunter allowed his instincts to fully take over. Despite not having experience in all-out war, his skill in combat was mostly unmatched if he faced down an enemy one-on-one, or even in some situations, two at the same time. His anger, both burning deep into his very soul and staying surface-level enough that he could think through his actions and not slip up and make mistakes, reminded him of his past.
Delivering the slag keys to Looks To The Moon, carrying the green neuron toward his destination, the time when traveling the distance and reaching that destination was his only goal in life. Hell, it was the only thing there was for him after he was informed of the rot inside him and knew his time was running out rapidly. The rage he felt at that moment reminded him of how his anger surged any time his mission was threatened, any time the one thing he had still lived on for was halted or interrupted in any way. Even after so many cycles, he was reminded of how brightly the fire inside him had burned when the neuron fly was taken and how he was willing to do absolutely anything to get it back!
He’d been brutal back then, and though his emotions definitely simmered down since then, Hunter still retained some of his brutality. That much was clear to the red slugcat when he did not hesitate to sink his teeth into a scavenger when his spear was occupied with being lodged in another’s skull. But even in his darkest moment, even when it seemed he really was nothing but a tool to be used by beings larger than he could ever understand, godlike in comparison to a slugcat like him, Hunter found his light.
Survivor, the one who had finally shown him there was a point to living and that there was no reason to despair even when the going was tough. No matter what, one could pull through and make it—something that he and Arti had helped prove by saving the red slugcat’s life! His love, his light, and his home, taken from him! Taken by the very same enemies who stood against him right at that moment! With a growl, Hunter tore the hapless scavenger’s throat out with his bare teeth, watching as they choked and gurgled before turning to the others that approached him with apprehension.
Not only was Surv taken from him, not only was his pup and close friends and family being threatened, but Hunter’s back had not stopped throbbing. As if on cue, his muscles twitched along the back of his shoulder, almost messing up his movement when he went to block a wild swing from an enemy’s spear. Despite everything he had been through, despite all he’d thought, Hunter was simply meant to accept the fact that everything was going to go back to how it was?
His mate gone, rot still existing and turning into more of an issue, his violence still all-consuming, his existence still only guided by the sheer purpose of dishing out pain and punishment?
Hunter did not f*cking think so! With a roar, he ignored a small slash along his leg as he threw himself into the action, cutting and stabbing at the vague shapes that looked like his enemies as his determination and hope relit inside him and shone brightly. His mate had shown him not to despair, not to give up for anything, to fight for what he wanted to keep, and to never back down even when the challenge seemed impossible.
Hell, the red slugcat would clear every single one of the enemies out on his own, if so needed! It was only the first step in his immediate plan to wipe out the immediate threat. What followed would be to comfort and calm Night, ensure she really was okay, and immediately set out to find and rescue his mate!
Unfortunately, his near-perfect record performance in the fight could not hold up for an unlimited amount of time. As one scavenger was tripped up with the blunt side of his spear, the weapon swiftly turned to stab down and finish the job, a sudden spasm ran through the whole of his back. His limbs locked immediately, his whole body tensing and completely stopping him from performing the final stab. It passed quickly enough, but the small slip-up was just enough time for another enemy to thrust their spear forward toward his side.
Barely having recovered from the sudden lock-up of his limbs, Hunter clumsily turned to deflect the strike. He succeeded, but his grip was still weak from the sudden attack, and the blow of metal-on-metal knocked the weapon from his paws. As quickly as he could, the slugcat reached over his shoulder to retrieve his second spear, but the one in front of him recovered from the deflection swiftly. They thrust forward once again, aiming for his throat the second time. Still sluggish from the rot attacking him, he tried his best to duck down under the stab. Unfortunately, Hunter was too slow to do so in time, and the realization he was only washed over him when he saw the spear heading for his right eye.
In an earlier time, when the risk of damage to the very same eye had occurred, Hunter had been able to avoid any sort of mutilation to the sensitive organ. Unfortunately, with the spear approaching far too quickly to stop, the world around him almost moved in slow motion as he realized there was no way to avoid damage. All he could do was brace and hope for a miracle, hoping that one of his allies would narrowly throw a projectile to take the attacking foe out. The hope of rescue was crushed along with his eye when the spear made contact.
A horrible squelch sounded, so disgusting and odd that Hunter, for a moment, had to wonder whether it even was a sound that came from his own body as the spear first tore through part of his lower face on its way up before wedging inside the sensitive organ. The pain was almost immediate, as was the sudden halving of the slugcat’s vision. He could do nothing but let loose a short scream of intense pain as the right side of his available view turned red from his own blood and then swiftly turned black, much like a lantern being extinguished in the darkest regions of Shaded.
The thrust had been more akin to a jab, thankfully, and did not pierce all the way into his skull to end his cycle far too early. His scream continued even as his remaining eye widened. Another short spasm ran through him, his body shaking with adrenaline and uncontrollable anger as he wrapped both his paws around the handle and forcibly ripped the weapon free of its mangled socket. Any satisfaction that may have been in the scavenger’s expression faded into shock and surprise as Hunter tore the weapon from their grip and whipped it to the side. Then the shock quickly morphed into fear when the slugcat lunged forward and grabbed hold of their neck, toppling the enemy.
He kept his grip tight, even as the scavenger landed hard on their back and immediately started to struggle against him. With growing desperation, they clawed at his paw and forearm as he squeezed as tightly as he could, blood from his wounded eye dripping down onto the other’s mask as they fought for their life. They were strong, that was for sure, but Hunter was stronger. A part of him that still attempted to think rationally tried to argue how bad an idea it was to have such an intense struggle in the middle of a battlefield with more enemies, even if he was partly obscured by thick smoke. The slugcat could not care less at that moment, baring his teeth as his opponent’s struggles slowly started to fade underneath his steel grip.
Not satisfied with the scavenger simply being strangled to death, Hunter put all his strength into squeezing the other’s neck even as their struggles completely faded, feeling all muscles working hard until something inside the scavenger audibly cracked. They tensed for a short moment before finally going completely limp underneath him, neck bent at an unnatural angle as he removed his paws.
Hunter was given no time to feel any catharsis from the kill, not only because of the pain on one side of his face that remained intense and agonizing, but also because he was put in a daze by a scavenger’s knee striking him hard in the chin. He crumpled to the side, trying his best to recover as his head spun. Whoever hit him followed it up with a sharp kick to his side, and the slugcat gasped as he felt a rib break. Sent reeling by the sudden assault, Hunter could not even recover enough to be able to tell what was up and down, his head spinning and his vision swimming as the vague outline of an enemy pushed a knee against his chest and crouched down to loom over him.
As one of his ears was gripped and a sharp edge was pressed against the skin above his remaining eye, Hunter’s vision finally sharpened enough that he could see the wicked smirk on the scavenger’s face before he noted the flash of steel very near his vision, saw their arm tense, and realized-!
Pain.
Sharp and burning.
The physical and mental anguish worse than the feeling of losing one.
Hunter screamed once again as he felt his eyeball practically split open along with the skin on his forehead and cheek right above and below the sensitive organ. His world was plunged into complete darkness in an instant, and somehow the knowledge of what had just happened—the reality of what had occurred—overshadowed the agonizing pain he felt underneath the sharp edge of the blade that tore through his flesh.
Disoriented and nauseous, Hunter struggled like a wild animal as the hand previously gripping his ear pushed down on his neck instead. He growled, more in desperation and fear than actual rage, as he lashed out as best he could with his sharp claws. They caught the scavenger; he was well aware. Even without his vision, he felt them catch on to something for just a moment before tearing through. He smelled the familiar scent of fresh blood in the air as it mixed with the smell of his own.
Despite the damage, his attacker chuckled, shifting slightly as they no doubt raised the knife clutched in their hand to make another incision. Hunter could not help but whimper in fear, blindly reaching out to try to stop the knife’s approach, but gripping and slapping at nothing as he could not even see where it would come from. Even if he did get lucky and manage to grip the knife, maybe even disarm the attacker if he was lucky, there was nothing he could do from there. He would not be able to defend himself effectively; even if he did manage to get his paws on a weapon, he was blind!
It sank in fully then, as he practically felt the scavenger holding him down coming closer and closer with the sharp implement at the ready. It sunk in that both his eyes were gone, and he was effectively f*cking blind. Hunter felt more helpless than he ever had in his entire life, even more so than during the very worst of his rot cycles, before they managed to get to Five Pebbles for the very first time so the iterator could fix him up. At least when the rot was tearing into him from the inside out, causing him agonizing pain and threatening to burst him from the seams like a meat puppet, he was still able to f*cking see!
Unable to properly defend himself, Hunter covered his head with his arms pathetically, only causing the scavenger to laugh louder as they no doubt neared him to cut again, and they would likely disfigure him further and it would hurt and he would not be able to defend himself-!
Suddenly, an enraged scream filled the air, approaching swiftly from a direction that Hunter was unable to pin. With his vision completely gone, the sound may as well have been someone screaming right next to him, and his ears folded against his head to protect his hearing instinctively. As the noise carried and somehow got even louder, the laughing of the scavenger faded, a fact only barely audible considering the scream that overshadowed all of Hunter’s other senses.
The scream finally ended, with the sudden, visceral sound of metal cutting flesh causing Hunter to flinch and expect pain to follow. Except instead of pain, all he felt was the crushing weight of the elite’s knee suddenly easing considerably. As what the slugcat guessed was the sound of his enemy’s corpse crumpling to the ground was heard, he shakily brought his paws to the two spots on his face where his eyes used to be. Pain so intense that Hunter swore he could feel his very skull vibrate erupted as he did, even despite his gentle touch.
For that moment, he did not care for the pain. The physical agony could not compare to the despair inside of him. Whether Hunter would be able to ensure he came back next cycle with vision or not, it was a harrowing experience. He had never lost any of his eyes before; even despite the constant conflict of his earlier cycles as a messenger, there had only been a single close call that he’d considered the most dangerous moment of near injury in his life. In just a few minutes, that earlier injury was completely trumped by the one he experienced in that field. Nothing could have prepared Hunter for the sensation of losing one of his senses, not to mention one that was so important to him.
Would he even be able to get his vision back? The easiest solution Hunter considered was the most obvious, of course. Even blind, there was no doubt that bringing a knife to one’s own throat was a sickeningly easy endeavor. The challenge came more from bypassing the natural instincts of trying to stay alive than actually coming up with a way of going through with it. If put in a situation where there was no other choice, such as the one he faced right then, the idea of being able to effectively come back fit for fight with no more consequences and only a lot of pain for a moment seemed a hell of a lot better than being left blind for the rest of his living cycles.
It might not be that bad. Maybe there’s just blood in my eyes? That’s why I can’t see, just have to wipe the blood off. At that thought, a small amount of hope grew. Hunter could have sworn he felt his eyes being cleaved by the sharp edge, but that could have very well just been his panicked mind playing tricks on him! There was no reason to despair just yet; he had no confirmation of the scope of the injury. It could very well be that it was only the flesh of his eyelids that was cut open. Maybe it's deep enough that they’ll scar shut, much like Arti’s wound. The thought came out of nowhere and did nothing to quell his anxiety. The red slugcat’s desperate wiping of blood became more frantic as the warm liquid was replaced over and over by the open wounds.
No matter how hard he tried to wipe it all off, it made no difference!
He couldn’t see. Why couldn’t he see anything?
Suddenly, he felt a presence crouch down right next to him, and he flinched, bringing his arms up to shield his head with a whimper. “Hunter! Holy sh*t…” His intense fear of being hurt even further dissipated, and the red slugcat uncurled and turned his head in the general direction he felt Arti’s presence.
The timing of his close friend’s arrival to save him from further wounds filled him with some relief. But as the horror in Arti’s voice registered, and she subsequently gasped in shock as he turned to look at her, it did not do much to calm his racing heart in the end. Neither did the gentle paw that squeezed his shoulder in an attempt to offer comfort. Hunter didn’t need comfort; he needed reassurance!
“A-Arti…” His voice was shaky, filled with fear and anxiety. “I-Is it bad?” Hunter stayed quiet for a moment, awaiting a response from the other that he hoped could be heard above the constant sounds of explosions and clashing metal ensuing all around them. “Artificer… Please.”
Even still, she didn’t answer his question, but her paw on his shoulder tightened slightly. It was more than enough of an answer, and the truth made him hiccup a sob of despair. The situation was too much to handle; he was meant to be one of the strong, unrelenting protectors of the colony, and he had to stay strong no matter what. But no peptalk could have prepared him for any of what just occurred. Artificer’s other paw suddenly came around to support his back, helping him to stand unsteadily. As he rose, the red slugcat’s head swam, and he was even further disoriented in the process. Nausea pricked at his stomach, and he whimpered as another painful spasm made him freeze up for just a moment.
“Chieftain, Hustler, cover us!” The slugcat holding him suddenly screamed, making Hunter flinch in surprise as vague sounds of affirmation were called back in response.
Slowly, he was led by the other slugcat away from the battlefield, hopefully somewhere safe. Hunter’s ears rang as he stumbled forward, and he had no clue whether this was caused by the loud explosions surrounding him or by the fear etched into his soul. Without any visual cues to guide the way forward, the walk led by his friend felt like it stretched on forever, the sounds of warfare neither increasing nor decreasing in volume. It felt like their constant moving would never end, like he would forever be stuck walking in place in complete darkness as he felt warm blood run down his face and into his mouth, then down onto the ground…
The feelings kept building further and further, and Hunter had no way to escape. Eventually, a cry was ripped from his throat. Overwhelmed past what the slugcat had ever experienced, he could not do anything to cope but start sobbing like a pup. Any other time, the red slugcat would have felt pathetic and weak for even reacting in such a way rather than sucking it up as he otherwise always would, but he was far too distraught to even consider having another sort of reaction to it all.
A gentle paw suddenly carded through the fur on the top of his head slowly as his face was guided to rest against warm fur that had a slight scent of gunpowder. Artificer was completely uncaring of the bloodied tears soaking into her coat as she tried her best to comfort him. “You’ll be fine, kid.” She said softly, her quiet voice somehow audible over the chaos that actually finally sounded a bit further away than earlier. “I swear, you’ll be fine.” Hunter stumbled slightly, Arti’s arms holding him steadily to ensure he would not fall as he instinctively tried putting an arm out in front of them to try to not walk into a wall despite being led forward by someone with at least one functioning eye.
Despite his friend’s comforting words and gentle touch, the tears don’t start running down his face. Hunter’s wounds burned even worse as they mixed with the salty water, and he nuzzled further into Arti’s chest as she purred to try to calm him. First his mate, and then his f*cking sight! He was blinded by a few lowly scavengers who wanted nothing more than to simply see him and his family suffer for a past that was far behind them at that point! Finally, some of the despair shifted to anger. Unless Hunter were to be killed and then come back the very next cycle, he would stay blind.
Never again would he be able to see his mate’s beautiful expression as they locked eyes, a light blush upon the other’s cheek as he leaned in to teasingly nuzzle against Surv’s neck, enjoying the way he practically melted at the contact and smiled giddily as he placed a peck on his cheek.
He would not be able to see Night’s joyous smile as she engaged in play time; never again would he witness her eyes glow up as she enjoyed a tasty treat or get to see her lift her paws up and make grabby motions toward him when she wanted to get lifted into the air…
Hunter would not get to witness his pup grow up; he would not get to see her transformation from a small, adventurous pup to a strong, independent adult.
That thought alone was enough for the slugcat to make up his mind. As soon as the battle was done, when everything was safe and the coast was clear, Hunter would excuse himself and go outside, where no one could see him or find his body. He would bring a knife; even blind, the slugcat was sure he would find his way around the area with little difficulty. Death was a better alternative than the hell he was going through.
It would hurt like a motherf*cker, but at least he would regain his vision. The only problem he could see with his plan would be the others asking questions or finding his body after all was said and done, but Hunter considered it a non-issue.
They would understand; he couldn’t stay blind.
Suddenly, it was like he was led over a threshold; the air around him changed to become warmer, and the loud noises were slightly muffled. “Dada!” The shrill and terrified scream of his pup immediately made Hunter’s fur stand on end as he prepared to go on the offensive.
He was in the tree, and someone else was there. Someone dangerous! Someone was hurting Night! With a growl, his claws extended and his teeth were bared, but Artificer squeezed his shoulder in response. “The little one is fine; she’s just worried.” Even despite the stressful situation, Artificer’s voice was still soothing, calm, and collected. Hunter knew the other slugcat was to be trusted, and he immediately relaxed at her words.
After being led a bit deeper inside, small footsteps approached, and Hunter jumped slightly as something small ran into him. His leg was hugged tightly by arms barely long enough to even be able to reach around, more familiar sobbing heard from the little one. Artificer carefully let him go as he felt his heart break, and he slowly crouched down to wrap his pup in a hug. Immediately, she buried her face in the warm fur on his torso, and he could only hope there was not a lot of blood staining the specific spot she picked to nuzzle into. He leaned forward slightly as he cradled the little one, hoping she’d not caught a decent sight of his grisly injuries.
Another set of footsteps approached, slow and measured. “Void… What happened?” Planner asked in horror, audibly crouching down in front of Hunter as he lifted his head to “look” in her direction. When she audibly winced at seeing the injuries, Hunter frowned and felt close to crying once again.
Still at his side, Artificer gave his shoulder another squeeze. “You’ll be okay, Hunt. Just stay in the tree, okay? The others and I will handle this.” Despite the despair in his soul, and the urge to help pulling at him, Hunter simply nodded in response. The other slugcat gave him one final pat in response before letting go. “Patch his wounds; we’ll try to keep them away from the tree.” Artificer’s voice was strong, but there was a slight shake and a tinge of uncertainty. “It’s looking bad, so…” She paused to sigh, audibly standing up. “Be ready for anything.” With everything said, her footsteps were heard but quickly faded as she ran off, leaving the trio alone in the tree.
Though he did appreciate Arti’s honesty, Hunter was terrified of the prospect of any of their enemies reaching the tree and deciding to take a look inside. As horrible as it sounded, he really hoped the enemies would focus more on trying to take down the maroon slugcat outside instead. He knew she could handle it; she was their main warrior, and he knew she sure as hell would not fall until his pup was completely safe! At the thought of the little one, Hunter hugged Night even closer, the pup purring against him in response. He was unsure whether it was done in an attempt to comfort him or because she felt safe in his arms. Maybe it was both.
A gentle hand suddenly grasped his chin as Planner hummed, causing Hunter to flinch slightly when he suddenly realized how close to his face she was. “Hold still, okay?” Knowing better than to question why when he could not see what was happening anyway, he stayed completely still. A cloth was carefully pushed against one of his bleeding eyes, and he winced in pain. “I’ll stop the bleeding and wrap the wounds.” Planner explained, holding the cloth in place to let it soak up the blood. “Not much else can be done.” Was added with a sorrowful tone. Hunter was not a fan of the other’s choice of words at all, but he held back the urge to whimper so as not to worry the small pup in his arms.
As the explosions and screams continued outside and Night desperately purred and hugged him as tightly as she could while soft cloth started to get wrapped around his head and eyes, Hunter could only hope the rest of their defense could hold up without him.
On the other side of the tunnel, past the fairly tall wall that blocked out some of the sounds of warfare, lay the most chaotic warzone Watcher had ever witnessed. When he first started through the pipe, he was not all too sure what to expect. There were a few enemy scavengers that he knew of, perhaps coupled by a small amount of lizards, as one of the slugcats apparently had an affinity for taming those beasts all willy-nilly. It was a guarantee that they would face down slugcats either way, for it was their colony they were attacking after all. So all-in-all, a rather easy fight that would no doubt be over before any of them could say “noodlefly pie!”
What he did not expect was to witness all out chaos.
The first thing Watcher set his gaze on was a trench a bit away from the exit of the pipe, inside which several scavengers stood. A great mish-mash of ones he recognized as allies and others that were clearly foes, judging by their painted fur and odd armor, were swinging and stabbing against each other. He knew from experience that a big battle would quickly become anything but controlled, likely starting out with tactics or a deliberate set-up the first few hours before the real fighting started, when it would devolve into chaotic violence.
Any scavenger he attempted to follow with his gaze went through a simple process: they got into a fight, emerged victorious, and then moved on to the next to die. Either that, or they died immediately before a victory, either killed by their opponent, ganged up on, or killed by someone from behind or to the side by an attack they could not even see coming. There was not even a way to see which side was winning; everything was just a mish-mash of miscellanious violence, gore, and explosions.
Glancing around, Watcher also spotted the lizards deployed by one of the slugcats. A pink one that darted in and out of nearby cover, either by craters made by explosions, the trenches, or other improvised forms, spread around. From time to time, it leapt in to strike at a scavenger, swiftly tearing a throat out before quickly going back to dodging and avoiding spears. It was swift and hyperactive, but when it became a priority for his warriors, Watcher reckoned it would not be able to avoid all that came its way. A green one also charged for some of its own enemies but was far slower than its pink counterpart, several spears sticking out of its back as it almost struggled to even move. Yet like all green lizards, it did not give up easily, which became an annoyance when the predator actually managed to catch one of the scavengers and tore them to shreds effortlessly with its massive maw.
Before finally climbing out, he also ensured to take a quick scan to ensure the red lizard was not immediately around. It thankfully only took a short moment to surmise it was not, and that it was probably through the smoke and dirt kicked up into the air by the constant creature activity and explosions all over the place. Feeling the presence of Chatterer behind him, Watcher pulled himself out of the makeshift cover offered by the tunnel and landed in the grass below. Glancing to both sides, he noted there were no immediate foes ready to ambush them. Still, he stayed on high alert, considering the all-out chaos unfolding in front of him. Getting caught unaware at an inopportune moment would most definitely spell death, after all.
Chatterer peeked his head out, freezing up and looking upon the fighting with wide eyes. Though Watcher’s first instinct was to reach in and pull the other scavenger out, it was probably a far better idea to let him properly process what was going on. Not only so he could understand how serious the situation was, but also so that the shock that no doubt struck through his soul at the sight could be recovered from as quickly as possible. So even as the gray scavenger visibly slouched, staring at the violence unfolding, he did not comment on it. He busied himself with keeping an eye out as he tried to figure out exactly where, among all the chaos, Chieftain and the slugcats could feasibly be located.
Thankfully, it did not take all that long for Watcher to figure out a very possible location. Squinting through the thick dust kicked into the air, he could narrowly make out the colony tree he had been told about far off in the distance. The side he saw from where he stood was covered in thick smoke, but it was unlike the natural one the scavenger looked through. It was far thicker and of a darker shade, not dissipating as regular dust eventually would, despite seemingly not experiencing a lot of constant explosions around all its parts as the dust clouds did. From his experience, it made no sense at all.
Then he started to make out the constant flashes of explosions. Not powerful enough to create any big shockwaves that would clear the smoke screen long enough for something to be made out, but far smaller pops that Watcher almost felt he recognized. As he stared a bit longer at the pattern of how they seemed to constantly move around inside the smoke, witnessed different types of explosions seemingly occur, and then finally saw a scavenger struck with a spear in their gut tumble backwards and fall to the ground, he came to a conclusion.
He knew of a creature that had quirks like what he saw—a maroon-colored one that he wanted to pick a bone with. Despite all the time passed since last, Watcher knew of her strength, and the bodies scattered around the smoke became more clear to him. More and more of his allies were rushing into the smoke screen to engage with the enemies he could not make out, and then die fighting against them. Despite how strong she was, it would be impossible for her to fight them all on her own. Thus, it became clear she would definitely have her allies fighting side by side with her.
Which meant Chieftain was near the tree.
With the destination set, Watcher growled and tightened the hold on his spear. Deciding the other scavenger had had enough time to process the situation, he turned to the pipe where he still sat. “Chatterer!” He yelled, only realizing afterward that it was a bit too loud, even despite the constant explosions as the gray scav flinched.
Turning to him with wide eyes, it was clear he was nowhere near getting over the shock of what was going on. Unfortunately, considering the amount of death and destruction, there was only a matter of time before the fighting would spread to their location, and it was not all that defendable. “W-What… What is…” He mumbled, his words partly guessed by the other scavenger who read his lips. It was something easily done thanks to the fact that Chatterer had dumped his mask, which was a fact Watcher found he was still a bit peeved about. “What the hell have you brought us into, Watcher?”
Shivering in fear and terror, he looked back to the death and destruction again, gripping the side of the pipe in a tight and shaky grip. Watcher sighed, reaching through the pipe and grabbing hold of the other. Despite the fact that it seemed he held on strongly, the gray scavenger let go as he was fully pulled through to stand on the ground on unsteady legs. Though the taller one wanted to tell the other that it was not exactly his fault they were there in the middle of the chaos, he was never exactly one for lying to… anyone he considered an ally.
So instead of screaming at the other for some sort of perceived insult when there was not one, Watcher simply awkwardly patted Chatterer on the back before turning his head to the fighting to figure out the best way through to Chieftain. Though the original plan had been to fully try to win the battle before considering revenge, it seemed a bit unfeasable for the two to throw themselves into the f*cking meat grinder of death and violence in front of them. The mosh pit was still going strong; no matter how many died, there always seemed to be more to replace the one who perished. Looking closer, he found his own definitely outnumbered the scavengers in the trench, but the dark-painted ones were skilled and seemed to even be making use of some sort of red liquid; he periodically saw them splash onto blades (or, in some cases, his allies’ open wounds or eyes) for some sort of paralyzing effect.
At least the lizards seemed to be slowly taken care of. He watched as one of his own stabbed the pink one through the side of its neck, pushing the sharp spear deeper as the predator writhed, tensed, and then died. After making sure the beast was fully dead, they tore the spear free, wiped some blood from their face, and then charged into the midst of the trench warfare ahead. During the same time, the green one was dying as well, having moved a bit closer to Watcher and Chatterer as it heavily bled. One scavenger remained trying to kill it, wounded and bleeding but still in better shape than the predator, as it seemed it was trying its best to escape. Looking past the imminent death of the lizard, he finally spotted an opening they could get through. One part of the trench, although still filled with fighting enemies, was a lot less crowded and obviously led the way further toward the tree if the foes that did reside inside were avoided or killed. Walking around the side seemed like suicide, judging by the flash of red scales Watcher saw lunge upon a poor soul who considered the same idea near the treeline.
Looking at the other scavenger, Watcher squeezed his shoulder harshly to get his attention. “Follow me; I’ll lead us out of this sh*t.” He muttered, trying his best to smirk confidently.
Suddenly, the gray scavenger’s expression changed to anger as he batted his hand away. “Will you really?” Chatterer gritted his teeth, jabbing a finger into the other’s chest. “Or will you only lead the way toward your targets?” His words dripped with venom, a rare anger that Watcher did not often see in the other scavenger.
Even so, he would not be talked down to, and so he growled. “We don’t have time for this, jackass! This is what we came here for!” To make his point clear, Watcher gestured to the tree in the distance, and the other scavenger glanced over to the tree.
A realization he thought would calm the other only seemed to make Chatterer’s anger worse. “You came for this, asshole!” He screamed, his voice breaking as he gestured his own arm out at the fighting scavengers. “And you tricked all these poor fools to follow us both on this f*cked-up revenge scheme!” The gray scavenger stepped closer, bumping their chests together and looking up at Watcher with no fear. “How many more will die for nothing, Watcher?”
With a huff, he pushed the other, taking care not to use all his strength to topple Chatterer but still ensuring he stumbled back to give him some space. “I’ve made it clear from the beginning why I wanted to come here.” Watcher’s voice was cold and calculated; he had had enough of the constant back-and-forths that led nowhere. There was no time for distractions, not when they were so close! “You never complained about revenge, not even once. All the way, you have followed me. We have followed the same mission. Yet now that we are almost here, you back off?” It was his turn to step closer, looming over the gray scavenger that looked... downtrodden? “Why? Why back away when victory is almost within our grasp, Chatterer?”
Chatterer frowned, almost seeming hurt from out of nowhere. “I didn’t follow you to get revenge on the slugcat or on Chieftain, Watcher.” His voice was far lower, barely audible once again. For a moment, he stayed silent, and the other scavenger considered simply turning and walking on to stop wasting time, just as his voice started up once again. “I find all this useless.” The scavenger’s face suddenly held a lot more determination. “All the violence and death leads nowhere, Watcher. It’s a cycle; it just continues in a f*cking circle and spirals out of control!” Once again, he gestured to the fighting at their side, the moment far more desperate than last time. “Surely you can see that? That all this bullsh*t is just a waste of time? A waste of our lives?”
There was desperation in the other’s voice and expression, along with something akin to worry as he looked up at the other scavenger. It made Watcher feel odd and made his chest hurt in a way he did not appreciate. So, with a huff, he turned around and started to walk to the trench. “Then make your own choice.” He called back, his eyes locking on the scene of the green lizard that was about to be slayed as he set his sights for the dugout ground behind the scene. “Follow or run; it makes no difference to me.” Enough distractions; it’s time to finish this!
Getting close enough to call to his ally, who raised their spear to stab down into the squirming green’s neck, Watcher hailed to get their attention. If Chatterer doesn’t come along, I may as well get someone else to watch my back. The scavenger turned their head, their orange eyes showing relief for just a moment. Then, a cyan blur suddenly crashed down on them. Before they could even react, they got knocked off their imminent kill, and a half of their torso was suddenly inside another lizard’s maw. As the razor-sharp teeth bit down, the scavenger screamed in pain and terror. Watcher jumped back in surprise, preparing his spear as his ally was shaken like a limp noodlefly. He considered charging forward to try to help, but it was far too late to do anything considering the massive spray of blood that splattered onto the ground in a sort of pattern as the scav fell completely limp and their weapon clattered to the ground.
They kept getting shook around for a moment longer before the cyan lizard finally stopped. With a growl, it swung its head and flung the corpse further away. Turning its body to the green lizard, the cyan hissed and meandered close, nudging the bigger one with its head. The green responded with a very weak chirp, and Watcher could tell that, although it was still alive, the predator would bleed out very shortly. In response, the cyan one purred, resting its head on the other in what seemed like an attempt at comfort. As they closed their eyes, the two almost looked peaceful, and Watcher considered trying to sneak around the predators to get to where he needed to go.
Up until it opened its eyes and suddenly locked gazes with Watcher.
It growled angrily then, eyes shifting down to the weapon he held in his hands. The cyan's eyes widened as it glanced back and forth between its wounded friend and the spear, seeming to come to some conclusion as it roared and moved in front of the green one protectively. Watcher prepared his spear, noting that the cyan most definitely saw him as a threat, one that needed to be wiped out. As the predator got ready to go for him, someone suddenly appeared at his side. “f*ck, I can’t believe I’m actually following you into madness like this…”
Despite their previous argument, the sheer annoyance in Chatterer’s voice actually got Watcher to bark a painful hack of a laugh that strained the scar tissue stretched over his chest. “I knew you couldn’t stay away for too long!” The only response he got in return was an annoyed huff, and that was all the time the two had to communicate before the cyan launched forward.
The first jump was easily dodged, with both scavengers jumping to opposite sides of the impact point. It was the second jump that Watcher worried a bit more for, considering the other scavenger had nothing more than a small knife that would not be able to do sh*t against the predator’s armored head as it leapt to bite into him. Thankfully, his fears were unfounded as the cyan immediately jumped toward him, and he turned his spear to point toward the lizard, waiting for it to deal all the damage to itself.
Except that the singular cyan in front of him was smarter than any other he faced, and with two more rapid blasts from its tail, the predator suddenly flew in from his left side!
“f*ckin’-!” With only enough time to turn his spear in defense, Watcher’s scream was interrupted by the predator bumping into him. The two crashed into the ground, with the cyan’s jaw thankfully caught against his spear handle and being kept at a distance by his arms.
Only narrowly did it not reach down with its razor-sharp teeth, but it gnashed them together aggressively still, seemingly trying to chew through the metal that guarded Watcher’s life. It thankfully failed, probably never succeeding thanks to the gilded metal his spear was made of. Unfortunately, his aching muscles were rapidly losing the fight against the large predator anyway, and if only a few inches were given to the creature, it would tear his stomach, no doubt.
Thankfully, it was too nervous to notice the second scavenger coming up from the side until Chatterer clumsily stabbed the blade into its side. The predator made a yelping noise but kept on the assault against its pinned enemy, so the gray scavenger stabbed again and again. Only after the fifth stab of the weapon, which was probably far too small to cause real damage unless used properly against the predator, did the cyan make the grave mistake of releasing its hold on Watcher’s spear to snap at Chatterer.
As the other flinched back, leaving the knife embedded still in the creature, Watcher knew he had to make a move. One end of his weapon was pinned by the creature’s giant foot, but the scavenger still had leverage to turn the spear. With a grunt, he shifted his hold to hold right below the spearhead that was free, lifting and aiming it to point at the nearest leg. Though pinned, the cyan was standing on the second sharp tip, so when he pulled hard, it tore into the underside of the foot that was trapping the other end of his weapon.
The lizard roared, lifting its leg instinctively, which freed the scavenger’s spear to stab into the spot he had aimed for without difficulty. It took another step back, surprised at the sudden ferocity as Watcher laid back and followed his stabbing up with a swift kick to the stunned predator’s face, careful not to snag his foot on any teeth. Then, with a lot more space to work with, he tore his weapon free, spun it around to point it right at the cyan, and thrust it forth right as it recovered and lunged.
It embedded in the creature’s mouth, and its subsequent jumps from the tail out of instinct for injury only served to force the predator further down along the handle. Before it could even react, the sharp side came out on its overside, piercing through the back of its neck as it immediately faced cycle death. After waiting a moment to ensure the beast was dead, Watcher chuckled lightly, glad to have gotten a small taste of the bloodshed to come as he lifted his legs to try to push the predator off his body. Chatterer thankfully jumped into action and helped out by pulling on the cyan corpse as well, slowly moving it off him enough to where he could stand and rip the lodged weapon loose with difficulty.
As he looked over the kill and spent a short moment flicking some blood off the stained end of his spear, Chatterer approached him. “Are you okay?” He asked nervously, with a tone of worry in his voice. Watcher tilted his head in confusion, seeing no reason to be worried at all. They both worked to accomplish a fine kill; why be sad? Still, to calm the other, he nodded. His ally seemed relieved, glancing over at the corpse. “Man, that thing was aggressive. I definitely did not expect it to react so ferociously when it saw both of us were armed.”
Watcher huffed as he looked at the corpse and saw the knife still embedded inside the softer side of the lizard’s scales. “Guess it wasn’t threatened by your toothpick.” He could not help but smirk under his mask as he felt a glare at the side of his head from the other, only then realizing the bone object was lopsided. Quickly, he turned his back, reached up to correct its placement, and pointed in the vague direction of the lizard. “Speaking of, make sure to retrieve your weapon, lest you go on unarmed.”
While it was quite a useless armament in Chatterer’s hands, it could at least do a hell of a lot more than the other’s bare hands. Hell, if it weren’t for the knife he had, Watcher would likely be dead. After successfully correcting the mask to sit comfortably on his face in a way that hid his visage properly, Watcher looked to the trench. Their way forward was clear enough; the duo only needed to go for it before they lost their chance altogether. Thankfully, his companion seemed to finally realize speed was of the essence, and it only took a moment for Chatterer to join his side.
“Alright. Let’s go then.”
Exchanging a shared glance and a nod, the two took off toward the trench. Moving past the green lizard that seemed only moments away from cycle death. They kept up a light jog, with Watcher at the front and Chatterer staying behind with his head on a swivel to ensure no one would sneak up. It seemed the combat had lightened up even further in the spot they were to jump into, with only a few scavengers still remaining, most having rushed over to fight on a side with more enemies. As hired help, the painted scavengers either did not seem to understand their mission was to defend the tree or simply did not care to follow such instructions.
They were guided by blood and warfare, judging by the smiles on the unmasked ones’ faces as they cut into any scavenger not also smeared with black paint or adorning the limbs of spider corpses. One in particular suddenly appeared right where the two scavengers needed to go, pulling one of Watcher’s own up to their feet and pushing them against the edge of the trench. His fellow scavenger was wounded, unable to defend themselves as the one with the spider armor raised their blade. Fortunately for the one about to be stabbed, the duo got close enough fast enough to do something about the issue.
Hearing the approaching footsteps and looking up, the enemy only got a split second to react to Watcher’s kick carried by momentum flying for their face. As it connected with the bridge of their nose, he was unable to stop the speed he had built, and so he followed the scavenger backward as they toppled. His ally only narrowly avoided the kick but was still knocked over as the other’s hold on them stayed for a slight moment as they fell back. Watcher collapsed in a heap but quickly recovered and stood up to face the enemy that was still prone on the ground.
Though, considering they were struggling to stand and still clutched the knife in their hand tightly, they were still a threat. With no hesitation, he lifted his foot and stomped down on their head. When they kept moving, Watcher repeated the motion two more times. He very well may have done it a third, had Chatterer not suddenly appeared by his side and pulled him away. Only when he was did he note the blood spreading into the toil below from the one’s skull he’d just crushed. At least the other scavenger was still alive, and they gave him a grateful nod as they picked up a discarded spear and got ready to fight again.
The duo moved through the trench, bodies that littered the underside of the soil beneath becoming more scattered and rare before eventually not coming up anymore as they moved into the areas of the trench that had not yet been touched by combat. An odd middle ground in the midst of it all, a spot where next to no violence had been meted out compared to the other two spots where a sh*tton of deaths occurred. Still, that did not make it so easy to move through. There were confusing turns all over the place, and even though the scavengers could climb out at any time, none of them would be all that surprised if something was patrolling and waiting for them as soon as they scaled the soil wall to try to run across the field instead. Not to mention the fact that they could easily be picked out if the colony was smart enough to place one of their own in a lookout spot where projectiles could be thrown down at them. There wasn’t a lot of cover in the field, after all.
Of course, it wouldn’t be a moment with the gray scavenger at his side without some sort of complaint. “This revenge better be worth it.” However, unlike the previous arguments Chatterer had made, the one he uttered then, in the slightly quieter area of the field (if you ignored the explosions and fighting that had decreased in volume from deafening to managable), was more somber and sad.
Confused by the tone, Watcher glanced at the other as they moved side by side with barely enough space not to bump into the trench walls. The other did not look at him, simply stared forward with an unreadable look on his face. He sighed and turned his head to look forward again, twirling the spear for a short moment before responding. “I’ll make sure it is.”
Chatterer was seemingly not satisfied with the response, turning his head and opening his mouth to speak. He got not even a word out before a scream suddenly split the air, causing both scavengers to freeze in fear and surprise. As quickly as the shout erupted from nowhere, loud enough to overshadow the distant explosions, it ended with a squelching sound that reminded Watcher of the noise a blue fruit made when crushed in one’s hand. The sound was very close, originating from around the next corner, if Watcher’s hearing was correct in its assumption.
Both scavengers were completely stopped, holding their breaths as they strained their hearing and waited for any sign of what could be around the corner waiting for them. However, as they stood still, there were suddenly the heavy sounds of footsteps. They were getting closer, and with the heavy steps also came the very clear growling of a lizard. Immediately, Watcher motioned for the other scavenger to stand behind him as he prepared his spear and backed up a few steps, giving a bit more distance between the corner where the beast was and the duo. As soon as they moved slightly, the creature hissed and walked quicker, obviously able to hear them despite the fact that they made next to no sound.
Not many lizards could hear that well, as far as Watcher was concerned.
He did know of one, but it was above ground last he checked. Finally, the beast walked around the corner, and to their shared horror, it truly was a red one. Its maw was covered in fresh blood that dripped into the soil below as it growled. Revealing more of its body, it turned around the corner to let them see its full, terrifying form. Bulging with muscles as all reds, some f*cking madman had strapped a bunch of red centipede plates to its back, making it even more of a threat than usual. A few near the tail had been knocked off, likely by explosions, but it created only a very small hole in its otherwise near impenetrable defense.
With an aggressive growl, it approached the two, the frills on its back standing up threateningly as it closed the distance far slower than was usual for a red one. It was almost like it was simply warning them, letting them know to get away quick before it would maul them. “Watcher, we need to go!” Chatterer called at his back, pulling slightly on his arm to try to get him to retreat. Watcher pulled his arm out of the other’s grip, considering what to do about the threat. “No way can we win against that, Watcher. Please!”
He didn’t listen to the others' calls, narrowing his eyes in challenge to the beast as he reached for the pocket strapped to his side. The sack that still hung from his hip was visible, the one that writhed against him as he actually focused on its existence. As the predator froze and stared at his hand, Watcher got an idea. If he recalled correctly, the red ones had a long tongue they would use to take weapons to bite down on and break. However, what would happen if the beast grabbed the bag full of blue cysts?
With a plan in action, Watcher smirked and suddenly darted his hand down, grabbing hold of the sack and pulling it free. Almost immediately after he did so, the lizard shot its tongue out, the sticky limb wrapping around the object skillfully and ripping it out of his hold. Retracting its tongue, it bit down hard on its collected bounty, the sharp teeth in its mouth ripping through the material easily.
The blue parasite was freed, and the scavengers got to see just a moment of the thing writhing in the lizard’s mouth before it shut close. Immediately after, the red one realized too late that something was wrong. It hacked and coughed, something visibly bulging in its throat as it tried its best to rid itself of whatever it just swallowed down. Unfortunately for the beast, none of its attempts did anything but cause discomfort, as all it managed to spit was fluid as blue as the cysts it swallowed and its own blood.
Watcher watched with fascination, noting the effects the parasite had on direct contact with living tissue. Though he was interested in staying and watching a bit longer, Chatterer did not share that opinion. “Okay, now’s our chance. Watcher, time to go!” Once again, he shrugged off the other’s pulling hands. He did not see the rush, the beast was no doubt dealt with, and he wanted to see what would happen next!
That was until the predator did something he failed to actually expect. With a roar, the red charged towards them. Unlike before, when it simply walked slowly to intimidate them, the creature moved at its full potential speed. It closed the distance incredibly quickly, and the duo of scavs did not have time to do much but jump in surprise before it reached them. The red collided with Watcher, knocking him into Chatterer, who fell down as well. Crumpled in a heap on top of each other, they could do nothing but wait in anticipation for the predator to maul them both to death in seconds.
Except death never came, and the two scavengers opened their eyes in surprise, finding it shocking to still be alive. The footsteps of the predator faded behind them, and the duo only caught a single glimpse of its still armored tail as it ran away, hacking and coughing still. Immeasurable relief flooded Watcher, but it was quickly cut short by a bony fist suddenly colliding with the side of his face. He grunted, the blow not close to hard enough to actually knock him down but solid enough to hurt a bit.
As he got to work affixing his mask again, Chatterer cradled his aching fist while glaring at him. “What the hell were you thinking? We could have been killed!” Though he never appreciated being punched in the face, Watcher supposed the other did have a point.
It had indeed been a bit risky and stupid to treat the momentary relief from a red lizard as a sort of biology lesson, and he would accept that as a mistake of his own. So, without any complaints, he got done with fixing his mask, climbed to his feet, and helped the other up. Then he made sure to bend down and pick up his weapon painfully slowly, feeling his muscles ache as he did. Looking ahead, the scent of crimson started to slowly fill the air, likely proof of the red lizard’s handiwork up ahead.
After a short moment of stretching his aching arms and shoulders, Watcher huffed and started to move forward, ignoring the burning glare the other scavenger was sending him. “Let’s keep moving.” He muttered, not in the mood for another argument at all.
Thankfully, Chatterer simply sighed and followed as he started to walk. He felt a slight sting along his arm as they rounded the corner, so he busied himself with studying the small wound as corpses littered the ground along with crimson puddles. Judging by the gasp from behind him, the scavenger behind him did not have any sort of distraction to keep from witnessing the results of the red’s rampage. Watcher would rather not know any of the details, so the far smaller wound on himself was a good thing to focus on.
It was indeed small, barely a worry at all. A very small cut along his left arm that bled minimally. Most likely, it was just a small scratch. For some reason, it stuck far more than such a small wound ought to, but considering the wound was nowhere near severe, Watcher decided to ignore it. Looking back up as they rounded another corner, there was finally an end to the trench. A small slope of dirt greeted the two, facing forward out toward the field, judging by the lack of visible treelines. They sped up, eager to get away from the place of bloodshed.
Exiting the trench, they looked ahead and saw the smoke screen where the fighting was likely occurring. Flashes of explosions were still going on, but suddenly another loud blast caught their attention. A few scavs that were not even near the smoke were blown into the ground by some sort of explosion that covered their corpses in a golden liquid. As Watcher and Chatterer looked on, the fluid seemed to have a corrosive effect, melting the skin of the bodies.
Looking for the source of what the hell could have caused such damage, Watcher noted there were a few figures on top of the tree that lay ahead. The bottom of the colony’s homeplace was not visible through the smoke, but there was no smoke to cover the duo standing up top. Judging by their position and the damage that had just occurred outside the smokescreen, Watcher quickly drew a connection.
They couldn’t have something like that ruining their plans!
Chatterer still seemed all too confused, staring in shock and horror at the melting bodies, so Watcher instead busied himself with finding a spear to throw. It did not take long for him to find a viable one lodged in the ground, likely launched from an explosion all the way over to where they stood. Pulling the weapon from the ground, he handed his personal spear to the other scavenger. “Here, hold onto this.” The gray scav jumped but accepted the spear to hold onto while he turned back to look at the distance to the tree.
It was a long throw, but considering the enemies did not seem to care about taking cover, Watcher figured it would not be so difficult to hit one of the figures with the projectile. Getting to pick his target, he decided to go for the one that seemed to be gesturing around with some sort of object in their paw.
Monk watched as another “egg” tore a chunk of nearby soil out of the ground along with a helpless scavenger that was accidentally caught up in the odd pull the spinning object in the middle of the chaos had. Judging by the way they struggled even as they were pulled in, the enemy most likely saw what happened to their allies that failed to escape. Though it could also be a natural reaction to suddenly being lifted into the air and forced up against a round object that was thrown by an enemy, an object that was most likely a weapon.
As it exploded, the scavenger at least died immediately in the blast and did not suffer further. Though Monk still could not help but feel nauseous as the odd fluid from the egg splashed onto a nearby scav and started to burn them, he turned away as the screaming started, barely audible even from a bit away. None of this is right, and you know it. You are part of this violent torture. There’s no choice; they are coming for the ones we love. We have to fight. But does it have to be this way? Do we all have to be just as bad, if not worse, than our foes?
Trying his best to ignore the thoughts in his head, Monk crouched down to stay slightly covered and looked around to find Arti below. It did not take long to spot her—the maroon slugcat standing closest to the tree between it and the smoke screen that cut the scavenger’s vision. Though he was always worried when witnessing her fight, he kept reminding himself that she would be fine. Arti was a warrior, through and through, and she had waged war on scavengers before, all on her own. Even then, as he looked to see her bouncing between enemies with a flourish, spear stained with fresh crimson as well as her muzzle, scav after scav fell to her claws, teeth, or weapons.
Although she refrained from throwing around explosives (a smart choice considering how close she was to the tree), Arti made great use of her explosive jumps to flank opponents or get the drop on them as they were completely unsuspecting. Any time she found herself in a pickle, the maroon slugcat let loose a concussive blast to clear the space around her. She fought as she used to back in the cycles as Red Death, with ruthlessness and scary efficiency. There was a lot of anger behind her strikes as well, something Monk associated with Hunter’s earlier injury.
He had not seen exactly how it happened, as he was all too busy handing more eggs over to Enot for them to throw at unsuspecting groups of scavengers that climbed out of the trench closest to the tree. Monk was well aware that it was bad; however, it was bad enough that Arti immediately rushed to the other’s aid and helped lead him away from the battlefield while Hustler and Chieftain watched their backs. Speaking of the two scavengers, they seemed to be doing alright as well. The taller of the two kept to close-quarters combat, fighting one or sometimes two scavengers using the chains around his wrists effectively. Combined with the armored spots of his body deflecting or blocking strikes or swings from the enemies, he had a great thing going. His friend watched the back and sides, using different sorts of bombs for smaller groups trying to go for them and scavenging spears or knives for singular targets.
They worked well, and even when Arti had gone a bit earlier, the duo kept up a strong defense along with Enot before the maroon slugcat came back. “Hey, Monkilicious!” He jumped slightly at the loud voice of the slugcat at his side, turning to see Enot smiling at him. “D’ya think you could hand me another egg? Pretty, please, with a cherry on top.” They batted their eyes at Monk as he only stared in confusion for a moment.
The fact that the cyan slugcat was taking the violence and death happening all around them so well disturbed Monk slightly. Not even Arti or Chieftain, who both experienced extensive battlefield combat during their subsequent cycles, took the violence as well as Enot did. Though they seemed violent and bloodthirsty, the yellow slugcat did not miss the way his mama sometimes turned her head as she stabbed an unsuspecting scav through the head, splattering blood and gore all over her fur. Nor the way Chieftain sometimes held back from completely pummeling an already unconscious scavenger and instead kept an eye on them to ensure they would not stand to fight again.
Enot did not seem to mind any of what was happening, which either meant they somehow had been through something worse than all that was going on or that they were too naive or stupid to realize the sheer and extensive horror of the situation. Nevertheless, the throwing of the eggs provided a lot of help for their friends on the ground, so Monk turned to the small stash the two hid in a safe corner of the branches they stood on. His heart sank as he looked upon what used to be a stash of at least eight or more and only saw a singular one left. As he picked it up and turned to hand it to Inv, who smiled wider and nodded before standing up and taking aim to throw the lethal weapon, Monk considered saying something about the lack of further weaponry.
He decided against doing so until after his friend threw the egg, but stayed sitting and turned away from where it was aimed, flinching slightly as he heard more terrified chitters followed by a loud explosion and desperate screams. Within a moment, they were by his side again, still with that small smile on their face. “Another egg, if I may?” They asked politely, stretching a paw out to Monk.
Had it not been for the violence and chaos that kept Monk’s brain in shock mode, he may have been angry at each other for treating the whole thing like a game. As it stood, there was no energy in him to be spent scolding Enot because of their insensitivity of all things. “We are all out.” He called instead, moving slightly to the side and gesturing to the empty stash as the other slugcat leaned around him to have a look of their own.
Though Monk was slightly nervous at the prospect of their part of the fight coming to a close, Inv did not at all seem worried. Straightening their back, they chuckled. “Don’t worry, Monkatron! I have yet more eggs to give you~!”
The other slugcat sighed. “Monkatron?!” He winced as the rest of the words registered as well. “Also, please don’t ever put it like that again.” He shook his head, trying not to consider the (hopefully) accidental implications from the other slugcat, while Enot simply kept chuckling.
Suddenly bending over slightly, Enot put their paws against their mouth and started to cough and hack. Monk’s ears pinned to the back of his head, recognizing the slugcat procedure of coughing an item out of one’s own storage. Don’t even tell me... He didn’t want to immediately consider the fact that the other slugcat was dumb enough to store more eggs in such a dangerous place, but he was unfortunately proven right in his assumption when the other spat up a new egg into their paws.
With a triumphant laugh, Enot held it up in the air. “Ba-ba-ba-baaaa!” They held it up for a while longer, stuck in the pose with both arms holding the explosive high up before finally lowering it. “Pretty neato, huh?” Inv looked incredibly proud of their little trick, but Monk did not exactly share the excitement.
Instead, he was too busy considering the fairly small size of the egg compared to the whole of the cyan slugcat’s body. “Enot…” Monk felt himself pale as he glanced down at the other’s stomach. “How many more of those do you have stored inside? None, right?” Despite believing differently, the yellow slugcat held out hope that the other was not stupid enough to do something so dangerous. That hope was quickly dashed when he glanced back up at the other’s face and saw them smile wide.
As Monk slouched, Enot’s smirk turned a bit more strained as they glanced away slightly. “J-Just a feeeew~” Great, just great! He really should have expected something so odd and wacky from the other slugcat!
But for some reason, he wasn’t able to be all-out angry. After all, they needed more eggs to throw, and here Enot delivered! Even if it was in a very weird and dangerous way, the two would still be able to help the others out, and Monk was at least thankful for that. “At least we have more eggs to throw, I suppose…”
Enot visibly perked up as soon as they realized Monk was not mad, tail wagging behind them as they nodded. “Mhm! The two of us will give all the help to our warriors on the ground, El Monko!” Standing up and going into their throwing pose, they kept their head turned in the yellow slugcat’s direction and winked. “Now watch closely, baby!” Turning their head back forward, the cyan slugcat drew their arm all the way back. “This throw is for-!”
Something suddenly lodged inside the other’s stomach; the sheer suddenness of the sound along with the fast movement of the projectile caused Monk to yelp in surprise. It only took a moment for his surprise to shift to horror and concern when he registered that the object in question was a spear, and the yellow slugcat immediately kicked himself for not telling his friend to stay crouched while pulling their stupid speech. It’s fine! Not a lethal wound! Enot is tough; they’ll survive it. He stood up quickly, walking over to help the other sit back down as he reached into his satchel to retrieve a flower and material needed to patch the wound around the spear as best as possible.
He stopped completely in his tracks when Enot turned their body toward him, gasps of pain leaving their mouth as their expression was twisted into a rare combination of pain and fear. Their gaze was locked to their own stomach where the spear was lodged, and when Monk followed their gaze, he gasped. The spear had pierced the other’s stomach storage, a faint sizzling audible as the fluid inside one of the cracked shells burned the already large wound to be bigger around the sharp weapon.
The yellow slugcat threw his paws up to his mouth and took a step back in shock, almost gagging as the smell of burnt flesh and fur hit him. Unable to tear his gaze away from the destruction that kept going, he noticed another alarming thing. Other eggs, some visible inside due to the widening hole in the other’s stomach, were also cracked. They glowed faintly in a familiar way, much like the way he had witnessed them glow when thrown.
All of them always glowed that way right before they blew up, and with this revelation, both slugcats looked up at each other at the same time. “Crap.” Enot said, which was very much an understatement, as they suddenly floated into the air slightly, blood running down their chin. “Monk… Run!” The rare seriousness in the other’s voice would have been enough for Monk to immediately react, even if he wasn’t already trying to scramble away from the pull of the egg that was rapidly increasing.
His paws suddenly caught the edge of a branch, and he fell backward, bracing for impact as he only fell a short distance, then seemed to float for a short moment before... Flying back toward the egg. Oh f*ck. No, no, no! This is what you get for playing god with powers you do not understand. Trying his best to save himself from flying all the way up into the explosion that Enot was about to be the center of, Monk managed to somehow move enough to control his ascent upward. Rather than floating all the way up and joining the cyan slugcat, who was now visibly spinning, thankfully seeming to be unconscious from their injuries, he instead hit his chest on the thick branch he had fallen off of. The wind was knocked out of his lungs, but he kept a steady hold on what saved him from guaranteed death, hugging himself against the wood as the pull increased further and further.
Knowing what was coming next, Monk was fully aware of the fact that he was far too close to the explosion to get out unharmed! Seeing as the egg was about to blow, he could do nothing but close his eyes, brace for impact, and throw his right paw out in front of himself in panic to try to shield his face.
BOOM
He wanted to scream as he felt something break apart; no pain immediately registered within his mind, but the feeling of flesh somewhere on his right arm splitting was still very clear to him. Monk was blasted backward, feeling something splash over parts of his head and torso as the wind rushed in his ears. Something burned him, and unlike earlier, he did feel it sear his fur and immediately cook his flesh wherever he was hit.
But his, then finally attempted, scream was cut short by his sudden stop. Hitting the ground hard, the back of his head bounced off the soil underneath him. A surge of pain shot through his skull for only a second.
Then darkness as black as death filled his vision.
