lifeaftr | October Intro: Louder than Sirens, Louder than Bells

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October Intro: Louder than Sirens, Louder than Bells

INTRO LOG: OCTOBER

Who: Everyone!
What: New souls arrive to the archipelago of LifeAftr
When: October 3rd
Where: Ensō
Warnings: Mark as needed!

The Beach: For All the Rest
The shores of Ensō are far from the tranquil, almost idyllic tropical backdrop that they should be. And so it is that while you fish, or perhaps as you go about your daily business on the islets, the first thing you will note is the persistent sound hammering at the back of your skull.

A drumming.

And it's growing louder.

The source of the drumming will, like it or not, soon become apparent. At the fringes of the trees, wielding slings and hollow, wooden pistols, is a group of large and very displeased simians who have every intent of claiming this spot of beach - yes, traveler, this spot of beach you're standing on right now! - for their own, and by any means necessary.

And they certainly don't look interested in diplomacy.

If you came armed, you might be in luck, because this conflict will require your steady hand in its resolution. If you did not...well, you may be better suited to run, or risk capture at the hands of warriors skilled, cunning, and incredibly vicious. Laugh at their monkey business all you like; they are ingenious fighters and, what's more, they're just as good at killing as they are at capture.

For the uninitiated, this particular brand of chaos doesn't usually sweep across the entire island the way it has. But those who have been here for some time will recognize the monkeys in question, and might even recognize this for what it is: revenge.

Group I: The Squeakquel
Looks like your monkeying around last month has landed you and everyone else in a spot of trouble. The monkeys in question certainly weren't happy to be confronted with others on their lands, nor are they willing to share their territory. While you may have triumphed last time you confronted them, the apes have been planning their revenge in the meantime.

Some of you were unlucky enough to become targets. Overnight, a great deal of them silently invaded the islets. Their blow-dart guns are equipped with a fairly powerful sedative that is more than capable of knocking most living creatures out - and those that were immune were simply snatched up, gagged, and bundled away.

However, it seems that some of their prisoners didn't suit their purposes, for one way or another, and thus weren't retrieved with the intention of long-term capture. Which is why a number of you will awaken in regions of the island that you've already explored.

...the really, really dangerous ones.

Whether it's a Center of Gravity, a parade of centipuppies, a contingent of Lungblossoms, a Fustercluck, or something else entirely, one thing is certain: the monkeys wanted you out of their way.

So get ready to fight for your life.

Group II: Ape Escape
If you're not one of the slightly luckier newcomers that materializes on the shore, then you're one of the unlucky ones that's managed to materialize square in the middle of the jungle. Or rather, in the middle of one of the denser, more populated parts of the jungle. The abodes woven into the canopy are crude, built of mud and sticks, but they're nonetheless sturdy.

And, as an important note - they are also swarming with monkeys. Snarling, baying, armed monkeys. Perhaps they'd be more hostile toward an interloper...if you weren't already in a cage, along with several others.

Fortunately for the newbies, they've all got something the monkeys didn't anticipate, aside from the element of surprise. Most prisoners don't arrive with knapsacks full of newly-acquired gear, and it's a good thing, too - you may very well need it, and the help of the new arrivals, to escape this place. You could always wait for the cavalry to come, but are you really willing to take that risk?

Group III: Pot Luck
As for you, you terribly fortunate third group?

You'll find yourselves suspended in wooden cages as well, though this time, to the hot curtain of whitish steam clouding your vision. It smells an awful lot like smoke down there. An awful lot like something...burning? Unlike your fellows over in the second group, these cages aren't simply a means of containing you, no. These cages are currently hanging over what might be the largest cast iron cauldron you've ever seen. All of this is, of course, for one simple reason:

Some species of monkeys are carnivores.

The acrid scent of smoke is already hot and rancid in your nostrils; the pyre beneath you has been lit, and the hungry flames are beginning to boil the water below quite eagerly. We'd suggest you hurry up in freeing yourself and your fellows - being boiled alive is not a particularly pleasant way to go. At least the monkeys weren't expecting quite so many main courses so soon, which allows you the element of surprise.

As a final note to those who participated in the Test Drive Meme, bear in mind that those threads, if all parties involved would like, can be game canon in the form of dream-like memories involving a place very much like this one, though the layout is considerably different.

All new arrivals will awake with knapsacks with their names stitched to the front. The contents of said knapsacks can be found below!

Feeling a tad adrift? Make sure to check the Locations Page, which has details regarding the starting areas and a handy map for those who feel better with a bird's eye view!

LOGS ● OOC ● STORIES ● MAIN NAVIGATION

( CODED BY BOOTYCALL )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Our first priority is the safety of ourselves and the rest of everyone. After which I don't think I can continue to uphold moral objections to attacking these creatures in the course of an escape. I hate to admit it, but they've made this into an us-or-them situation."

Roy sighed. They were clearly intelligent, and Roy hated resorting to violence if words could do the trick. But clearly these creatures were intent on causing them harm.

"Listen." He turned to face the pair of his fellow captives, looking them over. "Escaping this is probably going to be trivial, if I can still pull off one particular trick. Once we get out of here, we need to get to a defensible position, then establish if anyone else is in our situation. What sort of defenses and weapons do you guys have?"

Severs is being extremely on-task. You can tell because she doesn't ask what a "passimian" is, because if that's some kind of asshole-simian portmanteau, it's about the weakest insult she's ever heard.

Doesn't mean she's not gonna object to anything, though.

"What 'rest of everyone,' buddy? I don't know any of you. I've got no reason to risk my scales on the off chance there might be some more total strangers stuck here." Not with her only backup being a guy with no weapon and some other guy who's too busy making hotheaded threats to notice his surroundings. Blind heroism and brashness do not sound like the kind of combination that lets her walk out of here unharmed.

She frowns, running through a quick check of the bag. Blanket, container of strange white powder, very tiny hairbrush... all useless. Knife? That's something.

"These idiot monkeys left me with my bow, my sword, my dagger. They even gave me a knife." In a cage made of wood and crudely-lashed rope? Downright laughable. Don't even need to put all those lockpicking skills to use when you can just hack your way out! But that particular idea begs the obvious question: what happens after all the noise and movement it takes to break out catches the attention of a half-dozen apes?

"We're pretty high up, though. Don't know if we can break out without being seen, exposed as we are. Instead of trying to fight our way to the gate, our best bet's probably to make for the open water. I don't know about you dryskins, but I can hold my breath much longer than any monkey can."

"My only priority," Guzma spits,"is getting out of here and making sure my pokemon n'that little brat are both in one piece."

Anything, any everyone else? Can rot, as far as Guzma cares. But even he know he can't go this alone, not with this stupid gorilla army here keeping them hostage. He's going to have to rely on these idiots here, and Godzilla there seem the realist...and not a stinking bleeding heart. Lord, this guy can't be serious. Guzma's not risking his and Ariados' necks to save the imbeciles here. He can play hero all he wants, Guzma has no objections, but he's not going to save anyone else but who he's seeking out.

"Still got my knife, too...and my pokemon." He removes an Ultra Ball from inside his hoodie, clicking the button in the middle to release his Ariados. The technicolor spider blinks, looking around curiously, then scurries in front of her trainer, lifting up on her legs with an angry click of hr fangs. Guzma kneels, rubbing her huge abdomen to calm her down.

"She can probably waste a few of these beams, but--...yo, Charmeleon." He nods to the, uh...dragon? Lizard? Thing. "How good're you with that bow? Ari here can tip the heads with poison, if y'all wanna go for a surefire KO. But them apes up there..." He indicates the watchtower. "Pretty sure them's gonna give making a jailbreak real tough. Can you take 'em out once we're free? This cage ain't exactly bulletproof..."

Seriously. If he had Golisopod, the huge bug could just whack a few of the beams with one arm and they're be able to walk out.

Wonderful. Why did he have to get stuck with the neutral people?

"First point," Roy said, lifting one figure. "Moral. If we have the capacity to rescue others, we should do so, rather than risking that they will be left to suffer whatever these apes have in mind for us. Second point," he continued, counting them off. "Pragmatic. We have greater strength in numbers than we do by ourselves. We're outnumbered and clearly able to be taken by surprise and incapacitated. Rescuing the others makes it less likely than any one of us can be taken as individuals, as we can set watches and prepare defenses. Third point -- unity. Rescue others and they'll be more likely to look out for you in the future. Abandon them and look out only for yourself, and you ask to be treated that way yourself in future dealings."

Talky man, Roy knew perfectly well, talk too much. His cynicism told him he was wasting his time, that neither of them would be persuaded. Selfishness that would simply abandon others to this fate didn't vanish just because of one reasoned speech, no matter how logical.

Still, he had to try.

"If none of that is adequate persuasion, then we break out and you two run for it. If I remain behind, I'll be the more tempting target, and you can use her bow as protection while you flee."

Hoo boy, there's a lot to unpack there.

Guy one? Her intuition was on the mark. Total hero type. Natural leader, strong sense of justice, so on and so forth. The kind of guy who, in Severs' experience, rarely dies of old age or natural causes. On one hand, that makes him nice and predictable - exactly what Severs likes people to be. On the other? He is definitely absolutely going to die here if he breaks away from the safety of the group to do some reckless solo horseshit.

Guy two... boy, she does not know where to begin with guy two. What's a "pokamon?" What kind of unnatural hellish Conjuration spell lets him summon a giant technicolor spider?? Did he - is he trying to call her charming??? He's talking a lot of common sense, but it's swaddled in so much wild unfamiliarity that she loses a few precious seconds to just staring in bewildered disbelief.

A quick shake of the head to clear her thoughts. Focus. Stay sharp.

"I can hit a skeever in the eye from two fields away. If you want something dead, have your familiar lend me the poison, and I'm not gonna miss." Neither of these men, at least, object to shooting to kill. That makes things much simpler. She looks down to the unfamiliar knife again, grimaces, then holds it out, hilt-first, to the heroic one.

"But splitting up is crazy. Why don't we compromise, hero? On our way out, we'll set something on fire, or knock something over, or let some livestock loose. Make a big distraction. Maybe free one or two people on the way, if we run into them. That'll give anyone else here a better shot at getting out, and it doesn't entail us loitering around here indefinitely trying to bumble into some indeterminate amount of fellow captives."

Edited (forgot that not every one of my characters is they/them whoops) 2017-10-03 20:53 (UTC)

...Yeah, no. Sorry, but midway through Roy's second sentence, Guzma begins to tune him out entirely, pacing the perimeter of their cage and giving the bars a few little shakes and twists. He's testing the stability of the beams and the strength of the rope coiled about them - it's a decent job for primates, but it still a wooden cage... He reckons that just rushing it may be enough to break the beams, but he's not willing to risk the busted shoulder to do it. Their best bet is to cut the ropes securing the beams enough to slip out, but they really have to take out the watchmen, first...

Go figure the giant, talking lizard is the one he's more wont to follow - other humans never really were those Guzma could put his faith into, after all. She seems to have a head on her shoulders though, and isn't about to catapult herself into a literal barrel of monkeys just to save a handful of miscreants who'd probably no later toss him as live bait to the apes than repay the favor. Moron...desperate situations like these always bring out the worst in people. All for one, and none for all.

"Got no idea what y'all's talking 'bout Charmeleon, but I'll take it you're a good shot." Which is excellent - he absolutely wants these things dead. The dead don't talk, and nor do they call for back up. "Ariados, you heard 'em, weave a Toxic Thread real nice, and coat it good, darling...we ain't here to mess around today."

The huge arachnid nods, and begins to form a reddish-purple thread from its mouth, a silky thread about the width of perhaps a spaghetti noodle. Guzma nods head head back over to the monstrous...woman? Honestly, he's not sure, and thinks it rude to ask. Besides, they have bigger issues than that. "Wrap an arrowhead in that thread - it'll dissolve and leave only the poison left after 'bout maybe a minute... Stuff's dangerous, so I suggest not touching it if y'can help it. Wrecks your nerves up real good, so y'can't move well."

And in a situation where speed and movement is key? Being slow means death. He snorts again, finally glancing at Roy. Right...you still exist. "Bro, y'all can save anyone you want once we free, but don't think I'm risking my neck for people who don't matter to me. So I'll second what the, uh...lady here says. We'll make a ruckus if y'all really wanna do the daring-do, but I ain't following into hell, my man."

That's entirely what he expected.

"You two do whatever you can sleep comfortably with at night, and I'll do the same," he said, simply and matter-of-factly as he motioned away the offered knife. He had no reason to believe they had any ability to fight or protect themselves, beyond what they'd claimed, after all, but weighed in the balance he believed he would be offering more than enough distraction to prevent the apes from offering much resistance to their escape.

Especially since they recognized him.

Roy turned back to face the outside, quickly taking in their surroundings as his fingers curled and uncurled, as if around the hilt of a sword. "I'm going to attempt to arm myself when we're prepared, but it will not be subtle and definitely will draw their attention. So as soon as we're ready, I'll do that and cut through the bars. You two make your escape. I hope you at least consider establishing a defensive perimeter somewhere so other people can flee to it in turn." His slight shrug freed them of any commitment to that.

Welp. Can't say she didn't try, at least. If what's-his-nuts isn't willing to meet in the middle on this, then forget that heroism garbage. No way she's taking on an army for free. This isn't a "you're the only one who can make a difference" situation. Someone else can be the hero - has already eagerly volunteered, in fact. Doesn't even want the extra knife or anything! Guy's really sold on the going out in a blaze of woefully stupid glory, isn't he?

"Suit yourself, dryskin," she snorts, focusing instead on the two-toned hair guy and his technicolor spider. This is a new means of poisoning weapons, but if it does the trick, she's not complaining; she moves quickly, using one end of the blanket in her pack to protect her hands as she coats an arrow. She unshoulders her bow, nocks it to the string. "It's no skin off my nose if you're not willing to compromise. I'll see to it that this one makes it out with his familiar, at least. You can go seek out Sovngarde known that much."

She pauses a moment, eyeing the probable escape route, tallying up the nearest monkeys, debating how many arrows she can sacrifice to this.

"I'm ready to lay down some fire as soon as we're loose. How fast is that spider, anyway? We won't have to carry it or anything, I hope. I've had too many giant spiders attempt to eat me whole to feel all that good about piggybacking one."

"Right-o," Guzma pops his lips at Roy lazily, shooting him a double-fingergun. Sleep well? You bet your 2D ass he's gonna sleep well tonight when he doesn't have to worry about risking his hide. You are barking up the wrong tree if you think the ex-boss of a gang of hoodlum children has any semblance of morality. Nah, man, he cares about maybe a handful of people outside his immediate circle, and even then...he knows others will take care of them. That, and they're capable little buggers even if they are trapped here. "Good luck storming the castle, homeboy. Avoid pipes and purple shells and y'all be good. I'll pour your backside out one when I'm safe back home, yo."

He could not sound any more cynical if he tried. Anyway, that's that - time to get down to business with Godzilla here, who he's starting to like more and more. Kind of...that 'familiar' thing is getting under his skin pretty bad - Ariados is a pokemon, thank you very much, and she has a name.

"Her name is Ariados, and she's faster'n anything what walks on two legs, that's for dang sure. And she can fight, too, so don't you worry. Just do what y'all need and she'll cover us.

Just know if she gets hurt, or cornered, I'm going back for 'er. You keep running if y'gotta, ain't asking you to keep us safe, but so you know...if we go down, we go down together." He kneels beside the spider, rubbing a hand over her head affectionately. He'd rather not die, of course, but if it's him or his pokemon...Guzma'd choose his pokemon over his own life, without batting an eye.

"Y'ready, girl?" Standing, up, he removes the knife from his pocket and flicks it open. Ariados clicks her fangs, bobbing up and down on her legs before she suddenly gets pretty darn serious. This isn't a battle...this is serious. Her attacks aren't just to deal damage and win, to make others faint, this is ~~Nuzlocke mode~~ do or die.

Edited (THERE'S PROBABLY MORE TYPOS, BUT THOSE WERE GLARING WEH) 2017-10-04 01:48 (UTC)

"All right then. Here we go."

Pwok!

The Greenhilt family sword appeared in Roy's hands, wreathed in green energy like flames that cast shadows in sharp relief across the cage and its inhabitants. Roy felt a faint wrench, unlike the last time he'd used this power -- but never mind that. They had no time to worry. He slashed the sword downwards through the bars of the cage, cutting through the wood and vines like butter despite his lack of a true swing.

The whole contraption shuddered and began to slide, but Roy jammed his sword into the ground and held on with a grip that couldn't be called iron, because iron was too weak. The others could escape through the sea just fine, he figured, while he kept the attention of the apes.

Which he certainly had. A coconut shot through the air and slammed into his thigh. He didn't so much as flinch.

"Go!"

Conjuring swords, at least, is familiar enough that it doesn't throw Severs for a loop.

"I'll worry about the spider's name once you start worrying about mine," she quips almost playfully, pitching forward and neatly diving out of the hole that the hero guy had hacked through the cage. The slope below has her sliding and scrabbling, but she twists, finding her footing on the precarious, steep slope. Severs draws her poisoned arrow taut with practiced smoothness.

Inhale.

The monkeys are focusing on Roy, just as he predicted. From this lower position, it's a little harder to aim, but this isn't her first rodeo.

Hold your breath.

The ape who launched a coconut at Roy with that weird little wooden tube gets her focus first and foremost. Take the ranged ones out - he's only got melee. If any of them come after her and Guzma, then she and Ariados can pick off the spear-monkeys as they charge, with any luck.

Exhale.

She fires. The ape that shot Roy screeches, an arrow now firmly embedded in its ribs. Its protests quickly turn to smothered, pitiful gurgles as Ariados' venom does its work. One down, five left.

For one of them, maybe, though given Guzma's experience with the people in this place? He only raises a brow - that's new - and doesn't seem shocked more than surprised by it. Summoning swords - okay, that's a thing now, too, okay. He shoots a look at the lizard and grins at her - oh, he likes this sassy lizard, she's got a mouth and a head on her shoulders. Not only that, but once they're racing through the commotion Roy caused does Guzma catch, out the corner of his eye, the arrow loosed from her bow strike its target dead center. The reaction isn't uncommon, and he ticks off the seconds before shooting out a hand for his pokemon, calling out--

"Fell Stinger!" Ariados lifts her abdomen up, and the two stingers on her rump glow a purple-red light before firing at the ape. With a second to spare, the barbs strike the ape in succession and end it before the poison does. Sorry to kill-steal, Godzilla, but Guzma needed to - Ariados rumbles, and shakes herself a little, feeling that swell of adrenaline. Nice, it worked...she'll be hitting harder now, with that boost to her strength from the kill she just got (by dirty means, but...hey, it worked).

He's sliding down the slop himself, sneakers scraping again a mix of tree-bark and rock and tries to grab for any surface he can find. They're pretty high up in the canopy, and he'd really rather not go out by falling to his death, thanks. What a piss-poor way to go. Ariados, meanwhile, maneuvers the slope as easy as the spider she is, skitter and swerving the coconuts shot at her as she follows after her Trainer and shoots a thread from her mouth, which spatters against Guzma's back and stops his swift descent with a harsh jerk. Ow, that whiplash isn't at all fun, and he fumbles as he tries to catch his sunglasses before they fall to the ground below. Oof, putting those into his pocket, yep.

"Easy girl, lower me slowly and jump down, yeah? We got company..."

Those monkeys with the spears? They're starting to converge on their location now.

Roy wasn't about to wait for them to reach the other two. He yanked his sword out of the ground, sending dirt and grass flying in a wide arc as he all but cut a divot out of the earth, then charged.

He didn't have fancy techniques like a warblade, or a strange companion like Guzma, or poison and a bow to snipe with. Roy had a greatsword, an MBA, the strength of a giant, and the Great Cleave feat.

His sword whirled in an arch about fifteen feet in diameter, and several of the encroaching apes simply fell in two pieces.

Without waiting to see what came next, Roy plowed on forward, moving to engage the next troupe of apes even as stones and sling bullets and coconuts hailed down around and often into him.

Okay, solid progress! She didn't know exactly what Two-Tone and his conjured spider were doing with that overkill move, but nor did she entirely care. As long as the monkeys aren't getting back up, who cares how they fall? She'd wager that the guy actually has a pretty dang solid grasp on what he's doing; that spider's lifeline keeping his downward progress from turning into a free-fall is a luxury she'll definitely admit to being jealous of.

Admit, probably, when she isn't already busy stumbling and nearly pitching ass-over-teakettle down the precarious incline. She scrabbles a good few feet, one claw digging frantically into the shale, until she hits a protruding tree root. Braced against that, she quickly sets another arrow to her string. One approaching monkey falls wordlessly, an arrow sticking out of its face like a gruesome unicorn, and its limp body pitches and slides down past them.

"Think this is where we say goodbye, hero! If I ever meet your next of kin, I'll notify 'em!" She yells, another arrow notched against her string with practiced swiftness. The further down they go, the harder it is to see their departing companion. If he's going further in to the compound, she figures, this is about all she can do for him.

"Spider boy, you set to make a swim for it?" She lurches away from the tree-root anchor as a coconut sails past her, almost losing her arrow as she once again does an alarming slide a few more feet down. "The second we hit water's gonna be the most perilous! Be ready to dive and swim like you mean it!"

That little guy sure packs a wallop, hot damn. Guzma's slightly impressed - maybe he will make it out of here in one piece, though he won't place any bets on it. The guy's already lunging forward into the heat of battle, and while Guzma commends such a feat of power, he's also woefully aware (or has been humbled recently) by the fact that raw strength and power means so little in the ways of actual battle. Godspeed, little stickman, here's hoping you don't come back as a severed head or whatever.

Once on the ground - or tree? Who the hell knows at this point - Guzma waits for his pokemon and his scaly companion to get down. He certainly does feel very human here, without any weapons or skill that he can use himself to aid in a battle. Can he fight? Oh, absolutely, those muscles aren't for show, but these simians have spears, guns, darts... Hand-to-hand combat isn't exactly an option for him. Thank god for his pokemon, though. Ariados jumps, as instructed, and hits an ape like a small boulder, hissing as her fangs sink into the shoulder of the poor creature. The arachnid begins pumping a fatal dose of her toxic poison directly into its bloodstream, and the beast flails and shrieks, howling as it drops its weapon and tries to claw the huge bug off itself. There's not a chance of survival though, that bite could have felled far larger prey than just an ape, and Ariados leaps away from the others before they have a chance to poke holes into her with their spears. Guzma would love to grab the dropped spear, but it's too risky - he'd be gored and dead before he could make it halfway there.

Time to take a proverbial leap of faith. "Get to getting, Charmeleon, I know how them tides are!!"

He recalls Ariados to her pokeball as she is far less adept in the water than he is, and is just about to jump before not a coconut but a rock sails through the air and hits him hard in the side of the head. A bit of blood splatters from the wound it creates, and Guzma wobbles on his feet as his vision swims in front of him. But at least he has the endurance to keep himself upright, to moves down the rest of the slope (a bit clumsily, as his depth perception has been skewed) towards the water. He's tenacious, if anything. One hit's not going to knock him down, but it's going to make navigating a bit harder - his head literally feels like it's been split open...which isn't exactly wrong.

Oh, by Sithis.

That ain't no love tap. The dull thud of stone against skull elicits a sharp wince from Severs. For just a half-second, she fears the blow is a fatal one, but though he staggers... he stays up on his feet. He keeps moving. By the Hist, this is a resilient one! With his spider unsummoned, though, he's got nothing up his sleeve but his knife and also probably a concussion.

She told the hero-type that she was gonna see this guy out of this mess in one piece. No way in Oblivion she's going to just leave him staggering and bleeding while she bolts. No, if the spider's gone, then she's just got to pick up the slack. Another arrow spent - another monkey sinking to the ground with an arrow jutting from their ribs. She gives up on firing any more, though: her bow is shouldered, and she turns to dash as swift as her legs will let her.

"Forgive my grabby hands, dryskin. Brace!"

Forsaking gentleness for speed, she half-tackles half-grabs Guzma, scaly arms wrapping around his middle. She simply doesn't have enough time or enough arrows to patiently lay cover fire while he struggles with the injury dizzying his vision and tipping his balance. What they need here is to move.

"Wuld nah kest!"

She utters three words. Whirlwind, fury, tempest. Reality hears her Voice and bends to answer: her next step is nothing less than a leap. Words, not muscle, send her catapulting forward with alarming swiftness, hauling both her and Guzma a solid hundred or so feet forward to drop into chest-deep saltwater.

"Your brains still working, two-tone? Still waters, clear head!" She calls, still rudely half-dragging him as she transitions from sprint to swimming. Easier to do it that way. Dryskins swim like dogs, clumsy and slow and obviously meant only for dry land, and there are already coconuts splashing into the water around them. Better not to strain him with his head cracked like a walnut, and better not to risk it happening again. "What day is it- wait, I don't even know that. What's the former High King's... this isn't Skyrim. What's my name?"

Everything happens in a sickening blur - Guzma is grabbed, a voice from far away speaks to him through the loud ringing in his ears. If his sense of touch weren't still fairly keen, he may have attempted to break away from the poor reptilian for fear she was one of the simians trying to restrain him. Guzma can pick out only bits and pieces of what she says, as he struggles through the agonizing pain and the dizziness as blood runs down his face from the injury, dotting his shirt and hoodie with red. Lovely, he'll need to scrub the undershirt to free it of stains...though the black of his hoodie should mask most of the blood. Hopefully. It's held up this long.

The word passes by in another instant - more words, unfamiliar to him - then the slap of water pouring into his nose and mouth. That's enough to at least rattle him back to his senses, and Guzma hisses at the stinging in his skull when water seeps into the wound. What's she saying now? Day? No, he doesn't freaking know--name?

"Charmeleon," he grunts, squeezes his eyes shut as he's dragged along like dead weight. His head begins to slowly clear, though the ache is still as powerful as ever. "I can hear you..." Now he can; a bit better anyway. He reaches up to touch his head, pulling his fingers away to look. Ah, yep...that sure is still blood.

"Wh--...what hit me?" If they broke his sunglasses, he's gonna be pissed.

"Deep breath," she answers, the only warning she can offer before she pulls him down into a dive. Coconuts sink into the water around them as she twists, sharply turning out of the way and veering her course parallel to the shoreline. It'll sting the poor bastard's head something fierce, but not as much as getting hit would. One coconut thumps into the small of her back, pushing her and her cargo further beneath the shore. A rush of air bubbles from her mouth, but her gills kick in to compensate. Just a bruise. No time to let it hamper her. Tail still works, so keep swimming.

They resurface a short distance down the beach. The apes, unwilling to brave the water or climb back up the slope to get around their own fence, are quickly fading into the distance as they reluctantly return their focus to the prey still within their compound.

"Sorry," Severs chirps. "Glad you're lucid enough to recall the pet name. One of those punks clocked you real good with a rock. Thought for a second you were a goner, two-tone." She risks a glance over her shoulder, adjusting her course toward the shore. "Let's get you back to dry land and get a look at that. Don't strain that head of yours, dryskin. I'll keep you safe. First sign of anyone coming, and I'll be on them like a Nord on a keg of mead."

Her feet touch sand, and the transition from swimming is an awkward one; she's still inclined to support her makeshift passenger, even in the shallows.

Woman, you're asking way too much right now of him. Guzma barely gets a 'huh' out before he inhales a lungful of saltwater, and feels the sting in his eyes and head where his wound still bleeds, coloring his hair a soft, reddish tint. Lord, that smarts, but it's less pain than another projectile to the noggin. He's starting to come around just as they make headway past the monkey camp, the pain still prevalent, but the fog clearing somewhat. He's a tough cookie, this big idiot, and once he gets a breath of fresh air, Guzma coughs and begins to pull his weight at last.

"For real?" he grunts, and begins to swim himself, a little. Normally, he's fairly good in the water - comes with the area he was born and raised in - but the head injury makes his movement a little haggard and clumsy. "They's lucky I recalled my pokemon when I did, then..." That, and the fact Golisopod wasn't with him. Those claws he has do very serious damage, and he's as much a loose canon as Guzma is, when he's mad and protecting his trainer.

As they make their way to the shore, Guzma definitely begins to feel the wear of his injury, and exerting himself as he paddles with her, and tries to walk on his own. He's breathing a lot more raggedly, and he can taste the blood mixed with saltwater as it trickles down his face, sticking to his skin. It's an uncomfortable feeling, but not one he's unfamiliar with. He just needs a rest, yeah, and flops heavily onto the sand once he's not wading in the push and pull of the surf, sitting on his knees.

"Don't baby me, lizard," a slur of words, as he taps his head to check the damage. "I had worse scrapes n' this." Sometimes self inflicted. "Just need'a...sit for a while..."

Ah, there it is. Lizard. Always the same to dryskins, yeah? You're just an animal dressed up in people clothing. Those filthy boots are only worth a tenth of what a proper Nord is. Don't even deserve to live in our cities.

She chooses to ignore this much less charming pet name. Busies herself shifting the layer of leather armor loose to get at the clothing she wears underneath, using her dagger to trim away an inch or so of hem on her shirt. A bit of a chilly look for Skyrim weather, but in a tropical setting like this, it's an easy enough sacrifice to make if it means she's got herself a makeshift bandage. She wrings out the saltwater as best she can.

"I don't doubt that you have," she answers, holding the newly-cut strip of linen out for him to tend to himself. "Doesn't change the fact it's too soon to be slacking my guard, does it? You're injured, I'm fine. It's only logical sense that I should play lookout while you see to that little whoopsie-daisy."

She's not so much looking at him now - true to her word, her eyes are on the trees, waiting for some sign of pursuing apes to rustle through the undergrowth. Even so, a smile tugs the edges of her mouth. "But maybe I will get it into my head to baby you just a little. Wasn't it fun being carried? Bet I could do it on dry land, too."

In all honesty, Guzma is perhaps the last person who'd treat this sassy reptilian as anything but a force to be reckoned with. He much prefers the presence of other creatures to actual humans, and she's proven she's well above the populace of them here on Enso. He's just tired, cranked, and injured - both physically and his pride as well. Guzma's definitely miffed one of those filthy apes got the drop on him like that, and actually managed a decent blow. If one does show up...he probably won't feel bad if he snaps its neck.

With a grunt, he takes the cloth, dabbing it at the wound with a hiss of pain before applying the necessary pressure in hopes of stopping the bleeding. It does absolutely nothing for the horrendous headache he's sporting - worsens it actually - and Guzma squeezes his eyes shut with a low groan. Mother of Mew, that is some fierce pain...and he would love to just lay down with a bottle or four of something just as intense and dull that horrible ache. He hates being a sitting duck like this, and if he would will the pain away, he'd do just that. Sadly, Guzma is still very much human, and he needs to rest and recover naturally.

"Tch, not until you sprout wings and fly me back to Alola, Charmeleon." He...barely recalls riding on her, just that he was moving at some point through the air and water, but the idea is hilarious. Guzma snickers, then squints one eye shut. Ow, mother fucker--! Nex thing he's asking that dumb rabbit for is a two pound container of ibuprofen. "Otherwise I don't think you wanna haul this, uh...'cargo' anywhere anytime soon."

Also he still has his dignity to maintain, thank you very much.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

October Intro: Louder than Sirens, Louder than Bells

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