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XPiratez / Re: Everyday is Caturday Challenge Run
« on: April 25, 2024, 12:28:26 am »
August 4th, 2601
Doomed Farm
Knee deep in the dead.
Roush was loading in another magazine as she put a burst down range. Having an underslung rifle was a... strange concept to her. But she wouldn't question it. Humans were weird, and the weapon was plenty lethal. Besides, she was waiting for the right moment to fire a grenade launcher. Maybe she would just to have fun...
No. She had to wait. They were in limited supply, and the Capnyan didn't want to waste the limited supply they had. Booo. So instead she'd rack the bolt- and put more shots down range.
If nothing else, these men were possessed of a fervor unknown to even the Spartans. She did not know if that was more or less terrifying- but she did know that was equally worthy of death.
Another burst- two shot connecting as she ruptured a shoulder. The blast of a shotgun would finish him off as she'd pout, looking towards the killer. Some brown haired cat she didn't recognize. She'd mewl sharply in her direction- motioning to her with two fingers. "Hey, stop dealing my kills!"
Grumble grumble. How was she going to impress people with that?
Striding forward with a careful gait, she'd hit the wall of a shed with her shoulder- taking cover as she took a breather. A fellow black cat joined her- their respiration a chorus in the charged air of the night.
"Hey, Roush- do you got a spare magazine?" Roush would check her belt- before nodding and handing over the curved magazine. "Yeah. Here. Your lucky that we share Ammo." "Or maybe the Capnyan is giving all of us black cats, black rifles?" They'd share a laugh- shaking their heads, before leaning forward.
"Maybe... But speaking of black cats, do you know where Kaminyan is? I haven't seen her for a bit..." She'd lean out, putting another burst into a target. This one, was actually hers. Oh good, she could put a notch onto her rifle. "Or how about everyone else? The Claw-Sergeant still alive?" Order broke down awhile ago. Coordination was local, and provincial. And she knew that their sister-Cat was one to go wild out in the field. Didn't want to shoot her.
"Don't know, but I think two of us are down! The enemy is using dragons breath rounds, and they just don't die!"
Roush would look back to her claw-sister, before rolling her eyes. "Just shoot them more! Watch!" She'd then lean out, but held fire. Well, she would have. But she held her fire. She got her answer alright- watching as a black blur streaked through the night, descending upon the men with wild, reckless abandon. Giggling, laughing. Bloodlust in the eye.
It would be downright inspiring, if she wasn't staggering. Clearly at her limits- she'd trundle towards the next man, swinging weakly. Leaving herself a target.
Shiiiiiit. She couldn't risk firing into melee, there stood a good chance that she would hit her. So instead, her hand fell to her belt- opening up a pouch. Their alcohol ration- time to test the strength of the glass on this. If she could angle it right, she could get it right near her... And so she broke cover, angling the bottle over her head as she Chucked that thing with all the strength due to her. The Bottle spinning like a throwing star in the sky- the glint of light of nearby, showed her where she hit.
Right on the head of the man, and nearby to Kaminyan. Direct shot. That would be a story to share for later, as pride crept across her face. But there was always a saying.
It goeth before a fall.
Turning around, caught out- and her claw-sister failing to cover her, a man wore witness to her action. Left exposed, she'd level his shotgun upon her. Before she was any the wiser, the sensation of burning caught her. her senses left her- as pain racked her body. Pellets rendered her nothing more then a lump of meat, igniting within her body as her Kevlar tried to stop the impact in vain. Her mind screamed at her to stop the source of the fire- but she lost strength before even the third shell was fired. Her terror echoed throughout the field, but she would not hear her own words.
If there was any solace, she was spared a painful death. It was merciful even- for it to be so sudden. She did not have to live to be rendered into tallow.
She just merely ended. And that was it.
===
Emptiness in sensation. A world composed of nothing but gray. A sensation of falling through an endless sea. Where there should of been cold, there was only weight. Down, down into the depth we plunge, into the abyss that one belonged.
No longer the taste of brimstone on the tongue, the sensation of burning to kiss the flesh. Pain ebbed away, retreating from the lips to the surface unforeseen. Perhaps to never reach its destination. Ever tempting it was to close ones eyes. To let finality of strength leave from the tips of the fingers. To allow oneself to find rest, that brief touch of oblivion to subsume the hole of whom one was.
The drifter scanned her eyes- head turning but so slightly, as any movement in excess drained what limited strength she could still muster. Looking for any anchor in the abyss- to ground and stabilize herself, what she would find itself, is that she had not become unlike rain.
Thousands of bodies- draining of color as they fell inward. Men and women- Even foreigners... and Nekomimi, not unlike herself. All whom had past that Ethereal gate, and were being escorted to their final rest. Rarely did they move. Many were cradled, or otherwise still as they fell- as if they carried no strength with them to beyond.
Those still conscious, could only lament their final fate. A life cut short. A quest left unfinished. One more task to be done. Was that to be her own fate? To join the screamers, and the dreamers? Perhaps that choice was made for her, as soon she felt herself land upon something both soft- and formless. A Feeling of comfort, but in what remained of her soul, a violent impulse of survival Fight or flight, desiring both.
Hands grasped at her- but they held no sway. The struggle was not in fighting them, they only meant to steal what they could not have. It was to summon the will to fight once more, and she had not come here to die in such a way. Ripping herself from the binding mass of whom was to be her companions- Biting, clawing, ripping her body free- she'd ascended to her feet- rising above those below her.
Her eyes would see nothing more then a vast expanse. Not unlike if she was on a planet, a sphere. With bodies that attempted to defy their fate, not unlike her. Yet they would eventually be dragged back into the mire. Dragged back into the whole. Like a star burning out the last of its light- never to be ignited again. Even now, she could feel fingers dig at her feet- grasping for her ankles.
They did not wish for her to leave. They would not let her leave. There was no escape, in the end.
Ripping her feet from the mire- she'd try to jump try to reach out her hand. Maybe she could swim. Maybe she could buy herself time. Perhaps she was to burn out like the others, but it would be in utter defiance. And so she would walk, circling this sphere. Always on the verge of collapse, but never reaching that final threshold.
An eternity of walking. Animated by a will that never yielded.
A feminine giggle would follow, as her ears perked. Her eyes would dart around as she clutched her hands- bereft of claws, but instinct gave them shape. This was different. This was new. This was terrifying. And yet she stood her ground- for all the danger that provided. She would not relent from this hunter: they would have to take their due from her.
Yet instead, it only whispered in her ear. A promise, a seductive lure.
"Have you not yet had your fill? Do you still hunger for more?"
Oppressive weight fell upon her, as if it was the last defense. To try and deny this woman her prize. Her very being simply became a law of weight. Pulling her down. Down. Down. As if the natural order was fighting against her. As if something was wrong here. Yet she could still speak. "If it gets me out of here, I /do/. I wish for /more/."
"Good. Then take my hand." Flesh would descend upon her- as a giant had reached for her. She would waste no time in clutching it. All she had to do, was wrap her arms around- and trust this being. It was all she could do at this point.
"Remember that it was love that has brought you back... Consume this love, and bring this world closer to the edge of ruin. Become beautiful- for one day you shall return this love when you are consumed..."
Color would return to her body. Sensation would return to her body. Warmth returned to her body. The sound of rushing water flowed past her ears, not unlike billowing past wind. Leaving the fallen behind... leaving this sunless sea.
===
Her body felt weak. As if one had slept for an eon and only been awaken now. Acrid respect for the dead was the taste upon her tongue and the very scent she carried; Formaldehyde. Yet no Nausea followed- It was as if the body simply sweated out the poison. As if the body was a finely tuned machine that simply had been powered down for some purpose- and now once reconnected to mortality, the organs had activated without her.
The heart beat once again. The mind flourished with intrigue and consciousness. The limbic system, despite its discontinued use, rippled with the desire to be used. The sensation of power with the expression of power and muscularity. The nerves didn't even fire back in pain, instead only reaffirming the souls claim over the vessel it was given. And worst of all?
She was hungry. Starving. A carnal desire for fatty meats and sharp tasting fruits. Of drinks to burn a newly virgin throat and indulge of all things sweet. A lust for something salty, and finish with the finest of indulgences that may befit the fancy. The body had spent what energy it had to breathe life into itself again- and now it needed more. To be all consuming. In all capacities: it wished for More.
Sound was still a strange sensation to her- as if having been pulled from the ocean, there was still water clogging her ears. She heard something about... Proving someone wrong? Rubbing it in her face? And something about Mayonnaise? Nonsense to her. Instead, Roush would try to push herself up. Feeling around what felt like stone. An echoing rumble could be felt in her throat, as the limbs protested.
She wasn't back yet. But others took notice.
What sounded like bootsteps would echo over- sharp and distinctive on metalwork. Then the sound of voices- and blinding light. A sharp, grunting pain would echo- before a feeling of weightlessness. Ascension. Braced against... something. To keep her aloft. Then a question.
"Roush. How are you feeling?" To her left, the sound of a Nurse. A ginger cat, clearly with more care then skill in the field. Though Bedside manner was no skill to be neglected either. Her hand was taken, as her fingers were stretched out. Flayed and handled with doting care. Stiff, and imprecise- a sensation of pain. An instrument that had yet to be finely tuned again.
"Mmmh. Well, i'll never get married now." She'd huff with a sardonic tone. A bit of black humor, having cheated death. The Ginger cat- perhaps self-conscious, would hop back with a flail of her arms, letting the board that could charitably be called an arm hit the stonework- a sharp squeak.
"i-im sorry! I-i was just checking for Rigor Mortis! I-i didn't mean to-!"
"Hold on. Rigor Mortis?" An uncomfortable tingle would crawl up the spine. The core of her being recoiling at what could possibly be- the dream of which she was in dying throughs. Nearly taken in by the graveyard of many. As if willing her fingers to flex, they would on command- before looking back up. "Im /Alive/, arent I? Im clearly not dead." Her tone was flat. Blunt.
"You were dead! It was something the Witch and the Native did you! Did to everyone in this room!"
Hold on, everyone? Her eyes would glaze over... The room itself was horrifying in its own right. A Ritual room, comprised of strange symbols misunderstood. A section of the Medical bay, converted into... some kind of offering room? Her exposed stomach had a stone that had rolled down and caught on it- spent of its energy and dull in color. She'd move to pick up the oddly phalic shaped rock, before claiming it for herself... Observing the room, there was four more besides herself. All adorned with this stone. Fluer, she recognized. But not some of the others...
A question crossed roush's mind. An important one. If she was dead, then how long had it been? A few hours? days? Looking to her hand and the stone she clutched- she'd snap her attention to the ginger nurse, and made the demand known. "What day is it?"
"It's... September 18th. Its Shaday."
Only a month then? She remembered her mission in August. Then it had not been that long at all-
"Your record states that you nearly died a year ago. Its... 2602. You died in 01. You've been preserved until now, so that you could be shot out into the sun. Its a miracle that we had such traditions- or else you wouldn't be here right now...!"
Nearly a year? A whole year? Then the nature of her death... She'd reach for her body- feeling for imperfections. Burns, she felt herself immolate and die- her body a living pyre as she was hit with Magnesium... And yet there was nothing. Perhaps to the Chagrin of the watching nurse- watching a patient feel herself, but there was no scar. There was no wound. If anything, her skin was as smooth as the day she was born.
How much had changed? Were they any closer to getting off the planet? Did they finally get their hands on some lasers? Those were answers that she would not get here. Aiming to slide off the Pedestal, the Ginger nurse would quickly spring forth- aiming to catch her by the shoulders.
"N-no! You need to stay here, you need to go through physical therapy! There's no way your field for field duty!"
"All I need is a gun and to get back out there- That or punching the Capnyans face. Or Kami's for being an idiot and overextending so far-" Even if she had saved her life, it wouldn't have needed saving if she hadn't been so foolish. But protest as she might have- the Nurse was overpowering her. And if she was able to do so, then there was no way she'd survive right now. So with a disgruntled sigh, she'd wave off the nurse.
"Fine, I'll stay. When do we begin?"
"Uhm... given that your capable of motion and /seem/ fine... Uh... Tomorrow?"
Tomorrow was good. She actually had a Tomorrow.
Maybe more, depending. Each day was a gift now. To be consumed whole.
Stream is over!
Suprise, a sauce! And yes, she's actually a Cat! Thanks FF11 for square nosed Cats!
Post Mortem
The logs get longer, but the Mortem doesnt get done...
Doomed Farm
Knee deep in the dead.
Roush was loading in another magazine as she put a burst down range. Having an underslung rifle was a... strange concept to her. But she wouldn't question it. Humans were weird, and the weapon was plenty lethal. Besides, she was waiting for the right moment to fire a grenade launcher. Maybe she would just to have fun...
No. She had to wait. They were in limited supply, and the Capnyan didn't want to waste the limited supply they had. Booo. So instead she'd rack the bolt- and put more shots down range.
If nothing else, these men were possessed of a fervor unknown to even the Spartans. She did not know if that was more or less terrifying- but she did know that was equally worthy of death.
Another burst- two shot connecting as she ruptured a shoulder. The blast of a shotgun would finish him off as she'd pout, looking towards the killer. Some brown haired cat she didn't recognize. She'd mewl sharply in her direction- motioning to her with two fingers. "Hey, stop dealing my kills!"
Grumble grumble. How was she going to impress people with that?
Striding forward with a careful gait, she'd hit the wall of a shed with her shoulder- taking cover as she took a breather. A fellow black cat joined her- their respiration a chorus in the charged air of the night.
"Hey, Roush- do you got a spare magazine?" Roush would check her belt- before nodding and handing over the curved magazine. "Yeah. Here. Your lucky that we share Ammo." "Or maybe the Capnyan is giving all of us black cats, black rifles?" They'd share a laugh- shaking their heads, before leaning forward.
"Maybe... But speaking of black cats, do you know where Kaminyan is? I haven't seen her for a bit..." She'd lean out, putting another burst into a target. This one, was actually hers. Oh good, she could put a notch onto her rifle. "Or how about everyone else? The Claw-Sergeant still alive?" Order broke down awhile ago. Coordination was local, and provincial. And she knew that their sister-Cat was one to go wild out in the field. Didn't want to shoot her.
"Don't know, but I think two of us are down! The enemy is using dragons breath rounds, and they just don't die!"
Roush would look back to her claw-sister, before rolling her eyes. "Just shoot them more! Watch!" She'd then lean out, but held fire. Well, she would have. But she held her fire. She got her answer alright- watching as a black blur streaked through the night, descending upon the men with wild, reckless abandon. Giggling, laughing. Bloodlust in the eye.
It would be downright inspiring, if she wasn't staggering. Clearly at her limits- she'd trundle towards the next man, swinging weakly. Leaving herself a target.
Shiiiiiit. She couldn't risk firing into melee, there stood a good chance that she would hit her. So instead, her hand fell to her belt- opening up a pouch. Their alcohol ration- time to test the strength of the glass on this. If she could angle it right, she could get it right near her... And so she broke cover, angling the bottle over her head as she Chucked that thing with all the strength due to her. The Bottle spinning like a throwing star in the sky- the glint of light of nearby, showed her where she hit.
Right on the head of the man, and nearby to Kaminyan. Direct shot. That would be a story to share for later, as pride crept across her face. But there was always a saying.
It goeth before a fall.
Turning around, caught out- and her claw-sister failing to cover her, a man wore witness to her action. Left exposed, she'd level his shotgun upon her. Before she was any the wiser, the sensation of burning caught her. her senses left her- as pain racked her body. Pellets rendered her nothing more then a lump of meat, igniting within her body as her Kevlar tried to stop the impact in vain. Her mind screamed at her to stop the source of the fire- but she lost strength before even the third shell was fired. Her terror echoed throughout the field, but she would not hear her own words.
If there was any solace, she was spared a painful death. It was merciful even- for it to be so sudden. She did not have to live to be rendered into tallow.
She just merely ended. And that was it.
===
Emptiness in sensation. A world composed of nothing but gray. A sensation of falling through an endless sea. Where there should of been cold, there was only weight. Down, down into the depth we plunge, into the abyss that one belonged.
No longer the taste of brimstone on the tongue, the sensation of burning to kiss the flesh. Pain ebbed away, retreating from the lips to the surface unforeseen. Perhaps to never reach its destination. Ever tempting it was to close ones eyes. To let finality of strength leave from the tips of the fingers. To allow oneself to find rest, that brief touch of oblivion to subsume the hole of whom one was.
The drifter scanned her eyes- head turning but so slightly, as any movement in excess drained what limited strength she could still muster. Looking for any anchor in the abyss- to ground and stabilize herself, what she would find itself, is that she had not become unlike rain.
Thousands of bodies- draining of color as they fell inward. Men and women- Even foreigners... and Nekomimi, not unlike herself. All whom had past that Ethereal gate, and were being escorted to their final rest. Rarely did they move. Many were cradled, or otherwise still as they fell- as if they carried no strength with them to beyond.
Those still conscious, could only lament their final fate. A life cut short. A quest left unfinished. One more task to be done. Was that to be her own fate? To join the screamers, and the dreamers? Perhaps that choice was made for her, as soon she felt herself land upon something both soft- and formless. A Feeling of comfort, but in what remained of her soul, a violent impulse of survival Fight or flight, desiring both.
Hands grasped at her- but they held no sway. The struggle was not in fighting them, they only meant to steal what they could not have. It was to summon the will to fight once more, and she had not come here to die in such a way. Ripping herself from the binding mass of whom was to be her companions- Biting, clawing, ripping her body free- she'd ascended to her feet- rising above those below her.
Her eyes would see nothing more then a vast expanse. Not unlike if she was on a planet, a sphere. With bodies that attempted to defy their fate, not unlike her. Yet they would eventually be dragged back into the mire. Dragged back into the whole. Like a star burning out the last of its light- never to be ignited again. Even now, she could feel fingers dig at her feet- grasping for her ankles.
They did not wish for her to leave. They would not let her leave. There was no escape, in the end.
Ripping her feet from the mire- she'd try to jump try to reach out her hand. Maybe she could swim. Maybe she could buy herself time. Perhaps she was to burn out like the others, but it would be in utter defiance. And so she would walk, circling this sphere. Always on the verge of collapse, but never reaching that final threshold.
An eternity of walking. Animated by a will that never yielded.
A feminine giggle would follow, as her ears perked. Her eyes would dart around as she clutched her hands- bereft of claws, but instinct gave them shape. This was different. This was new. This was terrifying. And yet she stood her ground- for all the danger that provided. She would not relent from this hunter: they would have to take their due from her.
Yet instead, it only whispered in her ear. A promise, a seductive lure.
"Have you not yet had your fill? Do you still hunger for more?"
Oppressive weight fell upon her, as if it was the last defense. To try and deny this woman her prize. Her very being simply became a law of weight. Pulling her down. Down. Down. As if the natural order was fighting against her. As if something was wrong here. Yet she could still speak. "If it gets me out of here, I /do/. I wish for /more/."
"Good. Then take my hand." Flesh would descend upon her- as a giant had reached for her. She would waste no time in clutching it. All she had to do, was wrap her arms around- and trust this being. It was all she could do at this point.
"Remember that it was love that has brought you back... Consume this love, and bring this world closer to the edge of ruin. Become beautiful- for one day you shall return this love when you are consumed..."
Color would return to her body. Sensation would return to her body. Warmth returned to her body. The sound of rushing water flowed past her ears, not unlike billowing past wind. Leaving the fallen behind... leaving this sunless sea.
===
Her body felt weak. As if one had slept for an eon and only been awaken now. Acrid respect for the dead was the taste upon her tongue and the very scent she carried; Formaldehyde. Yet no Nausea followed- It was as if the body simply sweated out the poison. As if the body was a finely tuned machine that simply had been powered down for some purpose- and now once reconnected to mortality, the organs had activated without her.
The heart beat once again. The mind flourished with intrigue and consciousness. The limbic system, despite its discontinued use, rippled with the desire to be used. The sensation of power with the expression of power and muscularity. The nerves didn't even fire back in pain, instead only reaffirming the souls claim over the vessel it was given. And worst of all?
She was hungry. Starving. A carnal desire for fatty meats and sharp tasting fruits. Of drinks to burn a newly virgin throat and indulge of all things sweet. A lust for something salty, and finish with the finest of indulgences that may befit the fancy. The body had spent what energy it had to breathe life into itself again- and now it needed more. To be all consuming. In all capacities: it wished for More.
Sound was still a strange sensation to her- as if having been pulled from the ocean, there was still water clogging her ears. She heard something about... Proving someone wrong? Rubbing it in her face? And something about Mayonnaise? Nonsense to her. Instead, Roush would try to push herself up. Feeling around what felt like stone. An echoing rumble could be felt in her throat, as the limbs protested.
She wasn't back yet. But others took notice.
What sounded like bootsteps would echo over- sharp and distinctive on metalwork. Then the sound of voices- and blinding light. A sharp, grunting pain would echo- before a feeling of weightlessness. Ascension. Braced against... something. To keep her aloft. Then a question.
"Roush. How are you feeling?" To her left, the sound of a Nurse. A ginger cat, clearly with more care then skill in the field. Though Bedside manner was no skill to be neglected either. Her hand was taken, as her fingers were stretched out. Flayed and handled with doting care. Stiff, and imprecise- a sensation of pain. An instrument that had yet to be finely tuned again.
"Mmmh. Well, i'll never get married now." She'd huff with a sardonic tone. A bit of black humor, having cheated death. The Ginger cat- perhaps self-conscious, would hop back with a flail of her arms, letting the board that could charitably be called an arm hit the stonework- a sharp squeak.
"i-im sorry! I-i was just checking for Rigor Mortis! I-i didn't mean to-!"
"Hold on. Rigor Mortis?" An uncomfortable tingle would crawl up the spine. The core of her being recoiling at what could possibly be- the dream of which she was in dying throughs. Nearly taken in by the graveyard of many. As if willing her fingers to flex, they would on command- before looking back up. "Im /Alive/, arent I? Im clearly not dead." Her tone was flat. Blunt.
"You were dead! It was something the Witch and the Native did you! Did to everyone in this room!"
Hold on, everyone? Her eyes would glaze over... The room itself was horrifying in its own right. A Ritual room, comprised of strange symbols misunderstood. A section of the Medical bay, converted into... some kind of offering room? Her exposed stomach had a stone that had rolled down and caught on it- spent of its energy and dull in color. She'd move to pick up the oddly phalic shaped rock, before claiming it for herself... Observing the room, there was four more besides herself. All adorned with this stone. Fluer, she recognized. But not some of the others...
A question crossed roush's mind. An important one. If she was dead, then how long had it been? A few hours? days? Looking to her hand and the stone she clutched- she'd snap her attention to the ginger nurse, and made the demand known. "What day is it?"
"It's... September 18th. Its Shaday."
Only a month then? She remembered her mission in August. Then it had not been that long at all-
"Your record states that you nearly died a year ago. Its... 2602. You died in 01. You've been preserved until now, so that you could be shot out into the sun. Its a miracle that we had such traditions- or else you wouldn't be here right now...!"
Nearly a year? A whole year? Then the nature of her death... She'd reach for her body- feeling for imperfections. Burns, she felt herself immolate and die- her body a living pyre as she was hit with Magnesium... And yet there was nothing. Perhaps to the Chagrin of the watching nurse- watching a patient feel herself, but there was no scar. There was no wound. If anything, her skin was as smooth as the day she was born.
How much had changed? Were they any closer to getting off the planet? Did they finally get their hands on some lasers? Those were answers that she would not get here. Aiming to slide off the Pedestal, the Ginger nurse would quickly spring forth- aiming to catch her by the shoulders.
"N-no! You need to stay here, you need to go through physical therapy! There's no way your field for field duty!"
"All I need is a gun and to get back out there- That or punching the Capnyans face. Or Kami's for being an idiot and overextending so far-" Even if she had saved her life, it wouldn't have needed saving if she hadn't been so foolish. But protest as she might have- the Nurse was overpowering her. And if she was able to do so, then there was no way she'd survive right now. So with a disgruntled sigh, she'd wave off the nurse.
"Fine, I'll stay. When do we begin?"
"Uhm... given that your capable of motion and /seem/ fine... Uh... Tomorrow?"
Tomorrow was good. She actually had a Tomorrow.
Maybe more, depending. Each day was a gift now. To be consumed whole.
Stream is over!
Suprise, a sauce! And yes, she's actually a Cat! Thanks FF11 for square nosed Cats!
Post Mortem
The logs get longer, but the Mortem doesnt get done...