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 Posted: Tue Jul 30, 2013 9:17 am
The cat's presence was totally oblivious to the red Sigel, as his mind was preoccupied by the search for Kyou, and whether or not he is still alive or not. He only muttered a recognition to Duncan when he asked about the resting point. Truth to be told, he didn't really care, he can't sleep anyway so he will probably stay up and guard them or something. Although it will be a good chance for him to feed as well, as he is feeling a little tired now.
As the warmth that came with the sunlight slowly disappeared, the forest became a lot colder than it was during the day. Perhaps it was supposed to be like this? Like how deserts are a lot colder at night. Lazarus just chalked it up as a natural occurrence in a forest like this, since it is his first time in one after all. Although he did silently wished that he had brought a jacket, maybe something like Basil's sweatshirt. He did look mighty warm in it.
Before he realized it, the Frei was already floating beside him instead of in front of him. The Sigel don't really mind actually, he figured that Basil felt the chill as well, and wanted to stay near him for warmth. Lazarus had that effect on other people in cold surroundings, since he's like an essence of fire. This reminded him of the time when he and Xiu were visiting an outdoor ice sculpture exhibition, Xiu was clinging to him so tight for warmth. Although that seemed like a much nicer time than their situation right now, as Lazarus swatted at a mosquito buzzing around his face. He's just glad that Basil is keeping to himself, he wouldn't like being cling to by him.
Jeremy noted the change in temperature too, and he find it odd in a forest like this. Never before had he experienced this type of drastic change so suddenly. His guard was up as they navigated around the path, his eyes sharp and wary as he shone his flashlight around, although everything seemed normal at the moment.
The sound of water was apparent as they approached a small clearing. Shining his flashlight around, he found the source of the water - a small pond not very far from them. Although he has a strange gut feeling to tell him to move on, he knew that it is dangerous for them to move in the dark as well. "Is this the resting point you were talking about, Duncan?" Jeremy asked as he notes down the geography of the land. "I think we could set up a camp here." He continued as he pointed his flashlight at a patch of bare dirt, which seemed like someone had set up camp there before too. Maybe the villagers? Maybe even Kyou? It was difficult to tell.
"We should start a fire to keep warm too. Can you two go pick some dry wood around here?" He gestured at the Raevans. If anything, a fire could ward off some wild animals as well, and lit up their immediate surroundings at the very least. The tree canopies are still rather thick where they are, they will barely get any light from the moon when it gets totally dark, which is soon.
Setting down the portable tent backpack on the spot Jeremy was pointing at, he nodded at the request. "Okay." He then left the job of setting up the tent to the older man and went off with Basil to collect some firewood.
They didn't wander very far, just a few feet from the clearing, with it still within sight. Reaching up, Lazarus snapped some of the low branches from the smaller trees, thinking they would be dryer than the ones on the ground. Though he did picked up a few that were laying on top of the underbrush as well. They seem lighter - dead, and dried up; good as firewood.
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Posted: Thu Aug 01, 2013 10:11 pm
As soon as the clearing came into view, Duncan felt his exhaustion weigh on him immediately. It didn't feel like they had been travelling for long, but the excursion they had with the clowder of cats had him on his full attentions.
He glanced down at the map to double check, and nodded. "This should be it, ah-- I haven't been keeping track of the time, which I should have, but it seems we've traveled enough for the night."
Duncan's cheeks and nose were red from the sudden cold. He bundled his scarf and jacket closer to him, and were thankful for his mittens-- given that regular winds were enough to give him chills, it was no surprise that he was as thickly clothed as he was. He noticed that the other three team weren't, though, and hurriedly went over to the clearing to drop off his backpack and tent. He ushered towards the two Raevans to do the same.
"Jeremy and I will take care of you two's tents while you do that, and we can get some sleep for the night," Duncan rubbed his shoulders, then knelt down to unzip his backpack, "Are any of you hungry or thirsty? It's late in the night, but it's worse to sleep on an empty stomach."
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Posted: Fri Aug 02, 2013 8:17 am
The change in the temperature is much more befitting a desert than a jungle. The humidity and stickiness remains in the air, but the temperature itself is dropping swiftly. Perhaps it does not help that this area seems to be cut on all sides by running water.
Night settles around the group. The sounds of the jungle climb, quite loud in this area. There is chittering and slithering -- and the eyes still hiding in all the shadows. There is a gaping area, a hole a few feet in front and to the left of them, seemingly made of pure darkness. It is not easy to see what is within, but there are buzzards on the trees and, within the hole, there is the sound of something crunching and ripping.
A dank, tinny, unpleasant smell, muted by the sudden cold, suddenly hits the group.
The cat on the tree seems to make eye contact with Basil. A smiling thought is somehow communicated between them.
Don't look down.
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Posted: Mon Aug 05, 2013 3:31 pm
As I was going to Saint Ives, I met a man with seven wives. As I was going to Saint Ives, I met a man with seven wives. As I was going to Saint Ives, I met a man with seven wives.
It's so cold in the jungle, so cold and the sound so incessant. The cat continues to look at Basil, the gaze so intelligent and full of intent, and something strange begins to happen.
As I was going to Saint Ives, I met a man with seven wives. As I was going to Saint Ives, I met a man with seven wives. As I was going to Saint Ives, I met a man with seven wives.
Where once there was something so close, so very close -- like twins, just separated by the thinnest film -- suddenly a wall seems to appear. A thick wall, slowly and unavoidably separating them, as though the cat had reached in and simply put it between them. So simply. So easily.
As I was going to Saint Ives, I met a man with seven wives. As I was going to Saint Ives, I met a man with seven wives. As I was going to Saint Ives, I met a man with seven wives.
The sounds of the jungle go together with the chant. Reverberate together. Drowning it out. Pulling it away. Building a brick wall between them.
Has Basil ever felt so strangely alone?
The flies seem to have come out of his head. Into the trees. Dispersing.
The Other's voice disappears into the sound of the jungle, irretrievable.
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Dangerous Conversationalist
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Posted: Mon Aug 05, 2013 7:44 pm
When the humans established that this was now their camp-site, Basil eagerly slipped out from under his backpack. He groaned with relief and dropped it with the others, where it slumped drunkenly on its side like a buffalo with heat-exhaustion.
His teeth weren't chattering yet, but his breath had gone tight and wavery. Somehow he felt even more cold without the close, familiar weight of his pack. Vulnerable and somehow naked, like a hermit crab without a shell. He rubbed his hands together to warm them before "kneeling" down on the ground next to it.
While Lazarus started building the tent, he was trying to get a second sweatshirt out of his pack. Apparently it was trapped underneath something, because he needed to pull it fist-over-fist in a tense rope. Like he was yanking the innards out of some small, slow-moving animal.
When he was done, he pulled it over his head and rolled it down over the first sweatshirt, but realized almost instantly that it had gone on backwards. The hood was hanging in front. Realizing his mistake, he wrestled with the shirts for a full minute, trying to twist one around without twisting them both. He gave up when he realized at the rate he was going, he would just end up exhausted and tangled in his own clothes. He sighed in resignation and let his arms fall at his sides. It was a little hard to move with so much cushioning, but dressing in layers was probably the best thing for him until the fire got started.
The hood was the most annoying part, but when he got the idea to tuck his chin inside, it turned out to be what Genie would have called a "happy accident". It trapped the warmth closer to his face. Felt protective, like the face guard on a knight's helmet—or less admirably—the neckerchief of an old-timey bandit.
The Raevans were now tasked with collecting tinder for the fire. Following Lazarus' lead, he turned slightly in reply to Duncan, "I don't think you have anything in that bag we'd be interested in. You go ahead, though. We'll eat when we get back." Off the cuff it might have sounded like a rebuff, but really it was to be taken in a more helpful spirit. Corrective. 'We don't usually eat people food, but thanks for offering.'
Out of the clearing, Basil went right to work collecting twigs and branches. It was probably the perfect job for him. Simple, repetitive, and not requiring much thought. He didn't have the same knack for noticing good firewood the way Lazarus did, but for every green springy branch or wet piece of bark, he gathered three decent twigs to throw in. Genie had a phrase for that too.
"Burn is burn."
The temperature plummeted when night had finally arrived, closing around them like a dark quilt of trees and stars and strange noises. Basil was glad he had doubled up on sweatshirts, but already found himself taking longer breaks in between picking up branches. And that worried him. In times like these, a snake's natural impulse is to stay perfectly still for hours until the sunshine thaws them out. Every movement is precious energy wasted. They cannot hunt, they cannot thrive. Basil felt his pulse dropping. Getting sleepier. Fighting to keep his eyes open.
Eventually he started to give in. He was only going to stop for a minute. Get his strength up. Rest his eyes. He floated lower to the ground, his eyelids drooping. Just as his vision started to get bleary, he sensed movement in the bushes. His eyes popped open. He froze the way a rabbit freezes at the sight of a weasel. The Other pulsed in his brain. A hot cloud of pressure that made his ears pop.
Ordinarily Basil could detect a sound minutes in advance, but these seemed new and startling. Movement in the bushes. Secretive, greedy sounds. His eyes slitted at the presence of a wet stench he hadn't noticed before. It was a heavy and slow-moving smell, seeming to creep out of the foliage the way pus oozes from a pimple. When it reached him fully, his tongue went furry and thick. His mouth flooded, pre-meditating the urge to vomit.
He noticed shapes in the trees. Shifting. Creaking branches. Naturally he expected the cats to make a second appearance, but instead saw a group of birds. Vultures apparently, though it was difficult to tell. Big and bulky with their wrinkled, cadaverous heads. Their eyes, bottomless. As cosmic and life-negating as black-holes.
The cat was there also, but did not seem allied to the birds, as though it were directing them. Just there.
The noises continued, and the cat seemed almost smug about whatever business was taking place below its perch. The electricity was back. That spark of connection as their eyes met. For just a moment—a nanosecond really—all three of them were the same consciousness. A strange entity that stepped inside without wiping its feet. It was a pressure. A puncture in his psyche that sucked him through like water down a shower-drain. Made everything turn upside-down and go fun-house mirror. It funneled him. Purified him. And when it was gone, it took more than it came with.
The sticks clattered musically on the ground, rolling into the growth.
What was this feeling?
Basil only muttered one thing in the foul-reeking chill, "No..."
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Posted: Wed Aug 07, 2013 10:02 am
Truth to be told, Basil looked kind of silly with the sweatshirt reversed like that, but at the same time he also had to admit that it looked really warm. The temperature seemed to be steadily dropping and he could feel his shoulder and back shuddering slightly in the chill. The Sigel was half tempted to ask Basil if he had another sweatshirt, but he thought better of it. He will not need help from the cobra, ever.
Their firewood gathering task was going smoothly, he even piled a few into the Frei's arms since he seemed a little sluggish. But suddenly the sound of wood clattering to the floor was heard, and Lazarus knew exactly what happened.
"Basil!" He turned around accusingly, waving a stick in Basil's direction. "Can't you even-" However his next words were caught in his throat at the Frei's expression. He looked... pale, like he had seen a ghost. "Basil, are you alright?" His tone changed to a gentler one as he approached the other gingerly.
The tents were easy enough to set up since Jeremy had done this dozens of times before. Feeling hungry, he grabbed a sandwich he packed earlier and offered the other half to Duncan. "Here, try this. I made it this morning with the tastiest grilled chicken." He chuckled heartily as he munched. The tomato slice and lettuce were not as fresh anymore, but it was still good.
As Jeremy took another bite, he stood up to scour their immediate surroundings. Thankfully moonlight was able to shine into the area, and when his eyes got used to the dark, he could see some distance away. That was when he spotted the curious gathering of buzzards on some trees a few feet away from them. Weird, they're usually only active during the day, and what are they doing gathered so closely like that, it was very unusual buzzard behavior.
Curiously, Jeremy decided to walk as quietly as he could towards the buzzards to give them a better look, his hand still holding his half eaten sandwich. That was when he saw the gaping hole right beneath the buzzard gathering. "What in the world..?" Then the smell hit him, it was unpleasant and... reminded him of shipyards? Like rusted metal sitting in water. Immediately after the smell, he heard the weird noises from within the hole, nearly drawn out by the noises of the forest at night. Cautiously, he lowered the sandwich and took a step back. He has a bad feeling about this...
"What is that smell?" Lazarus smelled it too, it was a strange smell, and it felt oddly out of place in a place like this. "Do you smell it too?" He asked Basil as his eyes turned to search for the humans in their team. Spotting them a few feet away from their tents. "I think something is going on."
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Posted: Sat Aug 10, 2013 10:37 am
The peculiarities of this forest so far were easy enough to ignore on Duncan's part-- the bitter, strange cold was muted by his thick layers of clothes, and the cats he passed off as magical due to their rather feral nature.
Duncan nodded pleasantly to Basil when he responded to him, as he was quite happy that the Raevan spoke to him. "Ah! I hadn't realized," he laughed, "I should have known before we began our trip. Off you go, then."
Once Lazarus and Basil were off on their own devices, Duncan assisted Jeremy with the tent posts, and were relieved to find that they were already quite easy to construct. Just as he sat down at the base of his tent to rifle through his packages of food, though, Jeremy offered him a sandwich, which Duncan looked at and took with a chuckle.
"Ah! Thank you," he set the sandwich next to him, then took out a few things of canned food, "I don't have anything quite like that, but I did bring a few cans of beans and soup for the trip. I have a few, though I'm not too sure how to ration these. How many days do you figure we'll be here?"
Duncan looked up once he finished imploring and found that Jeremy had long disappeared, and his presence was quickly replaced with the rising sound of buzzards. Duncan rose cautiously to his feet and took out his flashlight to look around, only to find that Jeremy was facing curiously towards something in the darkness.
Flashlight now lit, Duncan walked towards Jeremy worriedly. "Is there something wrong?" It was hard for Duncan to focus on what Jeremy was looking at in such dim light; he swatted the buzzards away from around him.
He pointed his flashlight towards the gaping hole in front of them, curious.
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Posted: Sat Aug 10, 2013 3:18 pm
The temperature in the jungle continues to plummet, giving a strange feeling as though the jungle itself is being displaced. The musty wetness in the air begins to freeze onto surfaces, and breaths begin to be visible as the group breathes in and out. The roaring current of the river all around them begins to soften in its sound. There is a strange cracking in the air, and if the party looks up, they would see the formation of ice crystals in the vines above.
The buzzards remain unaffected, sitting silently on their branch, stretching their wings and staring at the groups with their beady eyes.
There are abandoned shovels beside the hole, clearly dug recently. As Duncan flashes his light into the abyss in front of them, the reason for the smell comes into view.
Limbs.
Human limbs, disfigured and disjointed, in a mass grave, piled one on top of the other. The scent builds in its strength, enveloping the group with the smell of death and rot. Atop the macabre pile, there is a large jungle cat, black as night, with velvet fur, crunching on the limbs in the hole. It lets out a low growl and squints its eyes as Duncan flashes the light in its face.
For Basil, there is an unsettling silence within his head, like a room full of people suddenly emptied.
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Dangerous Conversationalist
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Posted: Sun Aug 11, 2013 4:14 am
The others converged on the scene, but Basil was too stunned to notice until a full minute after the fact. His mind and body were totally out of sync. His head was an isolation chamber. No noise, no feeling. All he felt was cold, and silence, and both were competing to ruin him.
The smell was what brought them. A smell that all of them were having a difficult time identifying, but which made them no less anxious. All except Basil.
"Dead..." He rasped in a hollow voice. "It smells like dead."
No sooner had the word left his lips than the temperature dropped swiftly into the low forties, with no logical explanation whatsoever. Already he could hear crackling in the upper canopy. Things chilling and leaves curling. Mercifully there was no added wind-chill, but Basil could already feel himself being baited by a dark, suicidal sleepiness...
Duncan approached, or at least, he thought it was Duncan, he wasn't sure. Whoever it was shone his flashlight into the bushes, and Basil was paralyzed by the suspense. Trying to look without looking.
If it's a toad, just kill me now, he thought bitterly.
But what he actually saw was a thousand times worse than anything he could have dreamed of.
A funeral pyre, stacked with paper-white limbs in varying stages of decay like Satan's Lincoln Logs. There were smears of rust-colored blood, and knobs of disarticulated bone. Hints of elbows and buttocks and fly-eaten sores.
The beam from Duncan's flashlight seemed somehow dingy, as though it was shining through pond-water. The shivery disc of light swept over the carnage, and perched there at the top, was the King Of Corpse Mountain. A steroidal version of its small black cousin, with eyes like molten gold. They flashed, pupilless in the beam.
The beast turned to them, its body flexing with muscles like braided steel. It regarded them coolly, and growled with a blood-chilling timbre. Whether it planned to abandon its meal for fresher meat was unclear, but safe to say, nobody felt good about their odds.
In the stillness of the moment, Basil was heard retching into the tall grass. The moisture from earlier was not favorable to the putrid yellow odor, and when it hit him, sure-enough the hand of nausea yanked him inside-out. Having no stomach or stomach contents, he could only cough up thick ropes of saliva into the grass, spitting between each wave. He groaned and bowed his head when he was finished, sobbing for breath. His lungs and sinuses burned with cold, searing fire.
"No, no, no, no..." He chanted as though in disbelief, turning away.
He didn't understand. This was where The Other was supposed to help him. This was when he got pulled down into his body. This was when he was supposed to go to sleep, and when he woke up again, he'd be somewhere safe—Somewhere not so damn cold. This was serious.
Then, a thought occurred to him. A thought that hit him with such suddenness and dread that he nearly flinched.
What if Kyou was somewhere in that pile?
What if he had met his fate here, in this frozen dimension, his limbs plucked for the King's satisfaction? And what if they were next?
He turned to the Incubus with real panic in his eyes, "Laz." He hissed, pausing to wipe his mouth.
"Laz," he said again, barely above a whisper, "I can't... It's too cold for me. Please, you have to help me. I can't run... If that thing comes over here..." He trailed off, but his point was clear.
'I'm a sitting duck.'
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Posted: Mon Aug 12, 2013 10:16 am
"No.." Jeremy reached out and grabbed Duncan's arm as he pointed the torchlight into the pit. Inwardly, he didn't want to know what laid at the bottom of the pit. The fear of the unknown, one of the oldest and most common fear on the planet. However Jeremy was a second too late as the light revealed the horrors that laid in the darkness.
Limbs, a mountain pile of them. Horrified, he couldn't help but lifted his hand to cover his nose and mouth, as he now realized what that tinny smell was - blood. Or at least what remains of them. The smell of rotten flesh was apparent too now as he noted the varying degrees of rot from the disjointed body parts. Some of these bodies are weeks old, but some are fresh, a few days at best. And to his horror, none of them have heads...
Suddenly, the sandwich in his hand doesn't seem so appetizing anymore...
The sudden plummet of temperature stirred up some old memories in Lazarus. His mind started to tug at some far away memory that he had been trying so hard to suppress. There was a feeling of dread deep inside of him as his stomach turned to knots, his gut is telling him something is not right here.
This is just the low temperature in the forest at night. He tried to convince himself. This is normal.
However as the Raevans moved towards the direction of where the humans are, towards the dreadful smell, Lazarus realized he could see his breath in front of him. And that sent chills up his body much colder than the current surrounding temperature. Eyes wide, he stopped in his tracks and looked around him, and saw thin layers of ice on the blades of tall grass. This isn't happening. Now filled with dread, he moved slowly towards the group and joined them in their gaping of horror.
The sight before him made his blood run cold. Sure he had seen dead bodies before, on television that is. It is just so much more different when faced with the real thing. The smell is real, the limbs are real... limbs that was once attached to a real human being. Reality is just so much more harsher. Red eyes wide, he leaned over and looked deeper into the pit. It was deep, and to his horror he cannot see the bottom of the pit at all. Just how many bodies are in there?
Oddly enough, the thought that perhaps Kyou might be in there somewhere never crossed his mind.
When he saw the black panther on top of the pile moments later, he gasped softly in shock, drawing in a sharp, piercing cold breath. Lazarus didn't see the large cat earlier because it blended so well into the darkness.
Jeremy too, was alarmed when he saw the animal atop of the pile. It was huge, and despite his many previous adventures, this was the first time he came so close, face to face with a large feline like this. Without steel bars in between them nonetheless.
"Don't point the light directly at it..." He whispered softly, just loud enough for everyone to hear. With a hand on top of Duncan's flashlight, he pushed it downwards, away from the panther's face. In the darkness, the creatures eyes glowed an eerie yellow. "Now back away, slowly..." Hand now on Duncan's arm, he pulled the other man backwards one step at a time. "No sudden movements..."
It was then that Basil barfed into the weeds. Alarmed, Lazarus dropped the pile of sticks to the ground with a loud clatter, which earned a warning glance from Jeremy. Noting the man's intentions, the Sigel went ahead to see if the Frei was alright, and perhaps try to quiet him down. "Shhh..." But he was only met with a panicked Frei.
Thankfully his voice was soft as he spoke. "Don't worry, I..." Lazarus began to whisper back, but suddenly something occurred to him. An idea that was triggered by Basil's words.
Cold, can be countered by fire. And fire can ward off wild animals.
"Stay close to me." With one arm, he hugged Basil close to him, hoping that his body heat would keep the Frei warm. The feeling of his sweatshirt against him was pleasant anyway, it was warm at least. Then ducking down, he picked a large stick among the piles that he just dropped, picking it up by it's tip. Then effortlessly he lit it on fire, and threw the fire torch at Jeremy, which the latter managed to grab on with some difficulty. The Sigel picked up another stick and created a fire torch for himself as well.
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Posted: Thu Aug 15, 2013 5:30 pm
Duncan hesitated the moment their group caught the attention of the jungle cat. The sight of the mass grave didn't hit him immediately, his senses too caught on the strangeness of the surrounding putridity and deep, deep cold.
Shuddering, Duncan stared with wide eyes at the limp, pale bodies, the sleek surface of his flashlight threatening to slip from his sweaty palms. All the man could do now was haplessly stare at the remainder of his group and walk backwards, his feet stomping against the forest flora. They crackled quietly beneath him, and Duncan stifled his breath.
As Lazarus lit one branch and threw it to Jeremy, Duncan startled again and tripped against the root of a tree. Though he wanted to retaliate in return for their actions, all he could do was stare onward at the massacre, his will to speak jostled considerably by the sight before him.
"Wait..."
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Posted: Thu Aug 15, 2013 7:54 pm
As Duncan and the group creep slowly away from the gruesome hole in the ground, the jaguar slowly looks up. It seems so black atop the blue-white of the limbs in the hole, like a spill of ink atop the mangled pile. The sudden appearance of flame in its line of vision widens its reflective eyes. It moves, the ambient light of the flames catching on the tight muscles of its shoulders as it tenses and leaps, with ease, to the mouth of the grave.
The buzzards in the trees shift, wings splaying and then relaxing, their beaks opening in hunger. With the jaguar out, they tiptoe on their branches, waiting for the beast to gain further distance before they descend on the meal below.
The jaguar slowly circles the team, its ears against its head, stepping so softly on the jungle's underbrush it almost seems to be weightless. It growls, a faint and threatening noise. It seems annoyed to have been interrupted, annoyed at the flame in Jeremy and Lazarus' hands.
The temperature continues to drop all around them. Icicles are forming everywhere, and the sound of the rushing water behind them has stopped altogether as a chilly crack signifies its freezing. It's only then that the team notices that the jaguar's movements have trapped them between a rock and a hard place -- there is nowhere to run but over the thin ice of the just-frozen river, or to take their chances against the beast.
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Dangerous Conversationalist
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Posted: Fri Aug 16, 2013 6:00 am
Basil eagerly fell into place under Lazarus' arm, wrapping around his midsection in an awkward sideways hug. His fingertips bit painfully at the Incubus' skin.
Stay close to me!
"Not a problem..." He whispered through a cloud of white vapor.
There was a waiting quality to the stillness now. Something pregnant about this moment in which the panther hadn't quite committed itself to attacking, but showed no sign of easing off. Lazarus (and by extension Basil) had done the only rational thing by backing away. The humans did the same, but unfortunately, their willingness to retreat only lured the panther closer.
Basil was realizing, maybe The Other was right to have waged his private war on the feline species. Even with a stomach full of corpse-meat and every opportunity to leave, it was still coming closer. Not just coming, but circling the wagons. Fencing them off.
Shivering and at his most vulnerable, it was the unfairness more than anything that had Basil screaming in his mind. At the imbalance of power. At the senselessness! The panther was bigger, stronger, faster, and it had the home-field advantage. More than that, it had been totally unprovoked! It had no reason to bother them!
But he was realizing cats were just bastards that way.
He was realizing it didn't matter if they were hungry or not. It didn't even matter how much of a threat you posed to their young or environment. Both fell to the wayside in their overriding need to attack things that move. To pursue things that run. To play with their food...
The simple fact was that it didn't need a reason, making all of them more conscious than at any other time in their lives, that they were just so much meat.
Edging closer to the riverside, it was too late to find a hiding spot, and their group was too disorganized to hatch a decent strategy. At four to one, they still had numbers on their side, but that was about all they had, and it didn't count for much with everyone watching their own step.
They had entered the low thirties now, the air gone harsh and gnawing. Lips were turning blue. Noses were running and consequently freezing. At this point the two Raevans weights had combined and Basil was relying totally on Lazarus' strength. All his energy had gone into just staying awake. Needless to say, his bargaining power was pretty close to none at all. Where Lazarus went, Basil went. What Lazarus chose, Basil had no choice but to accept.
Suddenly Lazarus flexed towards the ground, and when he straightened up again, Basil squinted to see what he was doing. There was a soft phoomph as something ignited in his hand. A miniature fireball that briefly bathed them in a fairy-like glow. He gravitated to it. He wanted to touch the fire in the way a man lost at sea might fall and kiss the ground when he's reached shore. He whimpered as Lazarus passed the torch to Jeremy and promptly lit one of his own. It wasn't enough. The panther wasn't impressed.
Eventually they stopped altogether, and both Raevans realized at about the same time that they couldn't go any farther. Not if they didn't want to take a plunge in the river, although that problem seemed to be solving itself.
Earlier there had been a sizzling crack they weren't able to identify. The sound of water freezing over. In the globe of firelight from Lazarus' torch, Basil could now see fingers of ice racing over the surface, making it cloudy and nacreous. Only the edges had turned absolute white, and without shining a flashlight on it, the rest of the river was uncertain darkness. Theoretically, the Raevans at least had a chance. They could hover over the ice to cross, but there was no guarantee that it would support the weight of the two grown men. And what about all their supplies?
In any case, Basil was fading fast. He tried to think, but his thoughts were all running together. Dripping in chunks like wet tissue paper. The stable warmth from Lazarus' body wasn't counteracting the coldness quickly enough. At the rate the temperature was dropping, Alaska would have been more hospitable. The steam from his breath was growing incrementally shorter, his eyelids fluttering under the threat of sleep. His only recourse was to become as still as possible. Use as little energy as he could. Feel his pulse dwindling down. A heartbeat for every twenty seconds.
This was what they must have meant by 'a cold day in hell'. Yes. This was hell and he was in it.
His eyes tried to focus. Locate the smirking face of that tiny black cat in the treetops who he knew was somehow responsible for this. He could hear his breath whistling through his sinuses, passing the threshold where coldness brings pain, and transcends into a deadly numbness. A numbness where his body could not meet the physical requirements for terror. The arms of peaceful apathy.
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Posted: Sat Aug 17, 2013 9:26 am
"Not so tight..." Lazarus hissed through gritted teeth as Basil practically dug his fingernails into his skin. As much as the fire Sigel appreciated the extra layer of warmth covering his exposed middle section partially in this cold, the fact that it was Basil draping all over him was still an uncomfortable idea for the Raevan.
The terribly chilly weather had not been missed by Jeremy, as he too felt cold as his body shudders involuntarily. The fire from the stick torch was a welcoming warmth to him, and also an important tool to fend themselves from the wild cat. They had been slowly walking away from the pit of death, but to their chagrin the black panther followed suit. Everything in this situation just feels so abnormal, the chilly Russian weather in a tropical forest, a wild black panther seemingly unafraid of fire, and that pit of dead body parts... he remembered the shovels by the side of the pit, only a human would be able to use that.
Suddenly, Jeremy realized that there were no more sounds of running water around them. It was abundant when they were setting camp earlier, they were surrounded by water. Then the sound of crackling behind them made Jeremy's blood run cold. It can't be... had the temperature dropped so much already?
Eyes wide, he glanced behind them, and vaguely remembered there was a small river there, although it was too dark to see. Wary storm grey eyes quickly turned back towards the panther, he is now closest to the animal, he cannot afford to avert his eyes again.
"Duncan... shine your flashlight behind us." Only he and Lazarus had flashlights, and only Duncan's one is turned on.
"Jeremy! We can't go backwards anymore." They had been pushed so far that the Raevan's ribbons are already dangling on the sheet of ice. It was no problem for them since they float and don't carry a lot of weight, but it will be a different issue altogether for both the humans.
Lazarus was right though, perhaps why the black panther is advancing, is because they are retreating. They need to fight back! If only he had his hunting knife with him... earlier when they were setting up, he used his knife to cut some rope, and he left it at the camp site. Eyes glance back at their tents covered in a thin layer of ice not far behind the black panther. It's impossible to run past the animal now. Then he remembered...
"Lazarus, give me your hammer!" The Raevan only has one knife to defend himself with, he can't deprive him of their only weapon. That hammer had been distracting him all day, wondering why in the world would the Sigel bring it into a forest. But at least now it could be used in a defensive manner.
Without doubting Jeremy's intentions and orders, Lazarus passed the hammer over to Duncan, who in turn passed it to Jeremy.
That was when he noticed that Basil's grip around him had started to loosen and... he was slipping off! Immediately, he grabbed onto the Frei's sweatshirt. "Hey, Basil!!" Wait, is he... falling asleep? Then he remembered that snakes hibernate in winter. But he can't fall asleep now! "Basil, don't sleep!" It was futile, Lazarus tried to slap him to wake him up but if he let go, Basil will fall, he could feel the Frei's entire weight on his grip. The only way he could cause pain to Basil now was...
Without warning, he jabbed the butt of the makeshift fire torch into Basil's arm, hard.
Jeremy too, was making his advance when he had the hammer in his hand. Hammer raised, he roared at the black panther and began to wave the torch at it, trying to intimidate the animal, scaring it into leaving them alone.
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Posted: Tue Aug 20, 2013 7:40 pm
The fact that Duncan was backed against a tree trunk didn't help the group's scenario whatsoever. He was still focused on staring at the mass grave just in front of them, now scarcely visible past the glean of torch pyre exuding from Jeremy and Lazarus. The panther approaching them seemed nothing but a strange illusion to Duncan, at first.
Duncan sank into the forest cold. He shuddered once frost started to line the trees around them, and a few of his senses approached him again with an underwhelming enthusiasm. To him, the Raevans and Jeremy's voice was nothing but muffled cacophony, but it was enough for Duncan to make an attempt to stand up, his back still pressed against the sanctuary of the tree trunk.
The panther was quickly approaching him, and Duncan was the only one who was left frozen at first. It was only when Lazarus threw a hammer at him that the elder caught it clumsily. It took him a moment to realize that he was to throw it to Jeremy, though once he did so, he quickly followed suit with the rest of the group to move away from the panther.
When Jeremy shouted at the predatory jungle cat, though, Duncan froze again. He looked around the forest and at their equipment. The only thing he knew was that the jungle cat was far too close for comfort to be near their tents-- and all the equipment they had to spare.
BUt he knew that Jeremy was distracting them, if only for now. Duncan breathed in and stifled.
He knew where Jeremy's tent was, along with his supplies.
"The flare gun," Duncan said briefly. He didn't give himself a chance to hesitate before running towards the tents, dropping his flashlight first so it lit behind the group, as Jeremy requested. His brittle legs moved as quickly as he could towards the campsite. His goal was to retrieve Jeremy's backpack-- though Duncan could scarcely fight back against the panther, he knew that he could distract them with a concentrated flare.
The campsite was close-- all he had to do once he found the flare was aim.
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