Quarry Quarry - Chase
Continued from Quarry Quarry
Angus is slinking in the general direction of Moruwil.
The squirrel panics! He looks over at the cave entrance across the way - damn! If he darts over to get the boy lizard now, he might create more trouble for himself than he'd like... so, donning his hood, he steps out in front of Angus. His tail cranes outward to see around both the squirrel and the lizard, in both directions, before stretching out behind him and 'sniffing' at the lizard, 'recoiling'!
Angus's eyes had been glued to the ground, so the first thing the broody behemoth spies is feet. Ever so slowly, the monitor tilts his head upward, only to be greeted by the hooded Moruwil. "Oi!" he grunts, puffing a bit. "What business ye' got here, mate? S'this some sorta' bloody creep consortium?" He casts a desperate glance over his shoulder, but is apparently out of earshot of his crew.
The hooded squirrel and its tail both tilt 'their heads', and the left arm goes down to reach in a pocket, where the beginnings of a reeded instrument can be seen protruding out. The movement is quick and almost threatening, but then the thing is extracted very slowly, raised up...
The monitor, a habitual sloucher, is not often eager to stand tall. This is a special occasion, however; Angus is alone, and potentially outnumbered, should Moruwil have cronies tucked in the wings. He swiftly takes a step back as the squirrel produces the instrument, considering it with a baffled tilt of his head. "What th' .. ye' some sort of bard, pally? Speak, damn it. What're ye' doin' slinkin' around at night in the bowels o' the forest? Oi .." A hand flies out to shove the creature in its shoulder.
The shove is hard for a squirrel. Moruwil stumbles backward, the tail shooting out to try and buffet the lizard, but the shawm flies out of his paw in his attempt to right himself. He falls to his back, and quickly makes for the instrument on paws and knees!
Angus had not expected the shove to have such an impact on the little critter. Stupefied, he watches Moruwil falter and the pipe fly. Then, when the squirrel clambers for the instrument, the dragon dashes to plant himself between the two. ".. what's yer game, mate?" he grunts, attempting to stall Moruwil with a foot. "Ye' lost yer tongue or somethin'?" His eyes scan the ground for the flute.
Moruwil falls backwards into a crabbing posture as the lizard cuts him off from his helpline... and the hood falls down, revealing a head and face not so far from another the lizard might have seen before. The eyes, virtually the same, stare up at Angus in fear. When he tries to crawl backward, the robe gets caught underneath of him and he falls flat, hitting his head - Moruwil sees stars and at least two of Angus..
Sounding the reinforcement alarm might not be a bad idea for either of them right now. The dragon is baffled by the eccentric squirrel; particularly perturbed by its lack of desire--or inability--to speak. All though the moon is high tonight, painting portions of the quarry in a pallid blue glow, it is difficult for Angus to get a clear vision of Moruwil. Something is definitely familiar, but the lizard cannot quite pin it down. So, instead, he steps toward the cloaked creature and tries to calm it with the confident application of foot pressure.
Angus says, "S'yer last chance, mate. Who are ye'? Speak, or imma' holler fer me mates."
Moruwil's reply begins with sharp accented spasm, as the foot's weight surprises him. "MORUwil, son of Rayuwil, banished prince of... of the house of Nidlorf, now but a humble, humiliated hermit... please..."
Angus springs back and cringes, shocked and irritated. The names swirl in his head, but eventually coalesce into some sort of epiphany. ".. Nidlorf? Ain't that th' .." A palm plants itself over his eyes, pacifying the emotional storm that broils within. "So ye' be with the pine-puffs that ended up with m' child, then?" Words roll from his tongue with a glint of hope, and the dragon crouches to stare Moruwil squarely in those dreadfully familiar eyes.
Moruwil swallows, trapped by the lizard's stare - nothing else exists in the quarry at the moment. Slowly he nods, but then processes the words and shakes his head, "I mean, no... not /with/ anybeast. I live alone. But... but it wasn't my father's crew that dumped him here, at least I don't think s-so... it w.. it was that awful fox. I /have/ to take care of it, he said. Please, if he is following you, DON'T LEAD HIM TO ME!"
This cowering cretin is certainly not what Angus expected to encounter in the quarry. He had braced himself for a tooth-and-nail skirmish, antediluvian adders or, at the least, a pit filled with spikes. Glaring down at the squirrel, the monitor can only convey sheer annoyance. "Aye, th' dog--chances be he's followed us here. Been tailin' us fer moons now, pally." Closer still, the dragon leans to Moruwil's nose; his hand rises to clench at the back of the trembling creature's head, but the grasp is fairly gentle--meant only to coax answers, not injury.
Upon hearing that the fox is almost definitely following them, the squirrel snaps... he goes insane, writhing and flailing, his tail coming out of nowhere to flap at and confuse the lizard, as the squirrel shouts, "Leave me alone!!! Leave me alone and take the fox with you!!!!! Take your child and go!!" Then, he's eerily still. Smiling, even, in spite of being still restrained. "Oh, it's probably heard me, probably... probably..."
Angus hollers as the tail trashes. As a lizard, it is his own tail that typically does the hostile writhing, so the squirrel's evidently autonomous appendage catches the dragon off guard. His hands fly to choke the downy combatant, or to knock it away in disgust. Unable to imagine where that filthy thing might have been, Angus gags and wretches as the tail flutters in his face. "Bloody hell, pally! Simmer down, aye? S'what I'm meanin' t'do!" He settles down on his haunches, palms flat against his thighs. "So he's here? Kin we fetch 'im?"
Stubb's voice precedes him into the area, and the crunch of his paws upon sloughed adder skins is next to intrude upon the fighting pair. "'Gus?" The weasel's voice is hoarse with trepidation, as if he's wary of trespassing on sacred land, or of stumbling upon some sinister nocturnal ritual. "Y'll catch your deaf 'ere!" Just as he draws within earshot, the hisss strikes his ears, and Stubb goes rigid. His wide eyes cast about desperately. "Gus!"
Before approaching the two entangled strangers, the snake slithers up behind Stubb. Waiting, quite comically, the tongue (which is a length of leather soaked in animal fat and drenched in who knows what for slimy effect) flits in and out, close enough to tickle the back of the weasel. The movements are so real... one would think these shrews went to school for this!
Angus stabilizes himself against the shaking ground, but does not recoil. With a quick hop, his hind legs are planted beneath him, so the lizard is poised to sprint if needed. "Bah, pally! Ye' be squealin' at the wrong lizard. Yer doomsayer mumbo jumbo aint' hold no weight ov'r me! Been waitin' t'die fer months!" The monitor is screaming, as well. His voice fuses with the hiss and the frantic squirrel's rambling and the wary cries of his weasel chum; an immensely loud moment to herald the arrival of .. Ah. There it is! The snake.
The hair-trigger fear that assaults Stubb's vulnerable senses charges through his muscles and seems to launch the weasel almost out of the very quarry itself. He tumbles onto his back and gapes back at the monstrous creature before him. In the moonlight, the effect is sublime: a writhing, scaly bulk capped in a head stolen out of mammalian nightmares. He scrambles backward across the sandstone, indifferent to the cuts and bruises his frenzy invites. "'Gus! Amos!" Terror grasps at his throat.
Moruwil looks over at the weasel and up at the lizard, gleeful in the tresspassers' chaotic predicament. He laughs, and looks up at the lizard, suddenly seeming to come to his senses all at once, "Please, hand me my charmer?" He points with a free paw over at the instrument. "If you don't want your friend to be dead in the next half-second."
"Charmer nothin'!" is his shout, just the terrified screams of his comrade finally register and Angus launches. He bails rashly for the toppled weasel, guns blazing. In lieu of actual firearms, or crafted weaponry of any caliber, the dragon is left to lunge with fists and teeth. It would seem that reptiles do not respond to other reptiles with the horrified reverence of furrier creatures. Whether or not they will meet their demise in seconds, Angus intends to latch on to giant snake, gnashing at it with his lethally filthy lizard bite.
Amos, Garth, and Hactor race in.
Stubb stumbles to his feet, half-blind with emotion and panting. "Bloody 'ell, ma'e. Came out a nowhere, 'e did. Di'n' mean ta go shoutin' loike dat." Still, his eyes are transfixed by the oversized snake. If he has even the faintest inkling that it is a puppet, his features do not betray it. Trembling, he takes out his dirk and struggles to hold it at the ready. Snakes are known to lunge. Only his bond of kinship with the monitor keeps him from bolting.
The snake sees the lizard lunging for it, and its big head explodes outward in what appears to be a strike - fangs (which are real and left over from whatever former owner possessed them) glisten in the moonlight as the jaws creak open, the shrews, for the moment anyway, quiet and deeply concentrating on their individual tasks. Outside, the snake is terribly wild; it snaps and opens and closes at the two. It manages to get close enough to score several 'bites', before it would be pummeled by the lizard...
Garth eyes go wide at the snake, "Oh..whoa, what in the name of the great seasons is that thing!"
Weapon in paw Amos arrives on the scene behind the monitor, yet despite being equally surprised at the sight the wildcat perhaps prompted to act because of their past hardships moves to stab at the snake as Angus is assulted.
Angus, unfortunately, is too absorbed in his attempt to eviscerate this serpent to commend his scrawny cohort's loyalty. He backpedals as the strikes begin, maneuvering to avoid them. His agility stems from his disregard for formality: the dragon is on all-fours, bestial in his war dance, tail lashing and jaws chomping with utmost savagery. Perhaps this is a strange declaration of some underlying death wish, but it is doubtful that Angus has given the situation that much foresight. He dives in again, aiming to get aloft the snake and attack it from behind its head.
Stubb notices Moruwil suddenly and sees a use for his scrawny self. He chases in the squirrel's direction.
Garth slips out his blade,he looks back to the direction he came and seems to be starting to rethink staying the night, he looks back at the large snake, blade ready if it attcks his direction.
The shrews are all equally fleet of foot, albeit their reflexes aren't exactly snake-like... their attempts are noble in evading the lizard and keeping it distracted with the snapping motions of its jaws... but the numbers against it, which might not be as great a problem for a real snake are slowly forcing this one back into a corner of the quarry...
Moruwil sees Stubb running in his direction and scrambles, quickly grabbing the shawm and darting for the opening of one of the caves!
The fear drips away from Stubb's features as he chases through the moonlit quarry after the peculiar creature. A single backward glance is all he affords the snake--still quite preoccupied--in his determined pursuit. He grasps his dirk firmly at the ready.
Amos attacks directly with his blade, moving to hack and slash at the snake while its busy with Angus.
"Don't lettim' get away!" the dragon roars, spying Moruwil's rapid departure among the chaos. Allies pour in at every angle, bolstering Angus' intent to give this monster some serious hell tonight. Among the dodges and attacks, the monitor has a gut sense that there is something a bit off about this quarry--on more than one level. Adrenaline may have dulled his reptilian senses, but this snake is quite unlike former cold-blooded adversaries. Its aroma is off; its movements are not exactly natural. This does not diminish his rage, however, as Angus dives in for another bite.
Garth looks at the squirrel and if its a good distance from the snake he will go to grab the squirrel himself.
The shrews see Moruwil make his escape and they don't fancy dying tonight... "Better ou' covers is blown, mates, les'go!!!" They all climb out of the bottom seam of the snake and make a run for it!! They scurry along the wall and into another, smaller cavern opening! And... well, there's the snake. Dead as a doornail!
Gosh, she goes off exploring for five minutes and all heck breaks loose. Trace is back wandering around the quarry, and she just happens to head back in the general direction of the others when a black squirrel suddenly runs /right/ toward her. Trace blinks, looking in the distance at absolute chaos and people shouting and screaming and doing everything else in the world, and she just steps to the side, reaching out with a hand to try to grab the squirrel by the back of his robe. "Whoa there, Nellie!"
Angus drops in a heap as the snake miraculously perishes beneath him. All though the demon is inert, he continues to pound at it with his fists, meanwhile chewing at the back of its head. A moment elapses before the monitor becomes aware of the unexpected victory, but his punches gradually slow, as well as the gnawing, as eyes roll to inspect the inanimate carcass. "Er .. gotcha?" he squeaks, yanking at the leathery flesh. The monitor sits up, straddling the late serpent, and pokes at it. ".. I don't .. I didn't--" For now there is a lot of blinking and stammering and nervous glances.
Hactor comes hoballing up from where the group was, and stops dead in his limp. He wonders if he's crazier than usual. His good eye sees a huge, dead snake and shrews running away. "Er....Stubb?"
Stubb's momentum leaves him ill-prepared for the sight of Trace emerging suddenly from the ubiquitous gloom. Giving a yelp, he throws out his paws to stop himself from hammering into Moruwil's back and loses his grip on the dirk. It clatters over the rocks.
Moruwil is caught for a brief moment by the rat but /jerks/ away and pushes out at her in the direction of his momentum, foot out, attempting to trip her up. Turning around as he does gives him a view of Stubb, pursuing him close behind. "Gaah, get out... of'm.... ergh, way!!!"
Trace is all about ubiquitous gloom. It's kind of her thing. It's probably why she was hanging out back there all day. In any case, she's not really expecting the squirrel to put up such a sudden fight. Neither is she expecting Stubb to come running from the other direction. Really, she's used to just getting her way. So when the squirrel literally shoves her out of the way, tripping the rat up in her forward movement, she finds herself crashing head-first toward Stubb in a flail of rat limbs. "Agghlergghh!" she states, most eloquently.
Angus dismounts the cadaver and gives it a dumfounded kick. One hand rubs at the back of his neck, the other is planted on one hip, and Angus cranes to see his scattered companions: ".. Boys? Methinks we been had." By the time he completes this proclamation, the dragon catches moonlit glimpses of the scuffle nearby. He takes off in a winded run, attempting to catch up before they slip from sight.
Moruwil enters the cavern entrance and disappears in the darkness... the shawm, lying discarded right around where he made contact with the rat, broken in half from the run-in. He frantically searches around inside the tunnel entrance, yelling out, "Mally! Mally! Come! Quickly - we must go! No time to ask, dear, take nothing with you!! Mallllyyyy!!!"
Fuming that the snake his disappeared before he can exact his fury, and finding himself alone surrounding the "snakes" remains the wildcat with weapon still in hand moves to chase after the lizard. Hissing.
"Out a moi bloody way!" comes Stubb's debonair retort to Trace, limbs akimbo with the effort of shifting his inertia in a direction that averts catastrophe. Remarkably, even in his fatigued state, he manages to remain upright even as Trace's flailing threatens to fell him. With an agile spin, he breaks clear of the tumbling rat and continues after Moruwil. Clearly, the months have afforded the weasel far too many opportunities for practicing such mad pursuits.
Hactor wonder's waht the blazes is going on, but apon seeing Moruwil growls, "You!" He to joins the chace, limping as fast as his withered legs will go. He doesn't know what he'll do when he catches the squirrel, but he knows it /won't/ be pretty!
"What in the flipping seasons is going /on/ here!?" Trace shouts, as she sort of falls half over at Stubb's departure, catching herself with a paw touching the ground, instead of completely falling over. The rat pushes herself quickly back upright, a paw curling around the whip at her side to draw it out rather abruptly as she takes off in a sprint after Stubb and the squirrel.
Moruwil finally breaches the main cavern and runs around the underground pool, its phospholuminescence casting undulating blue hues on the black squirrel as it darts around the perimeter, "Mallllyyyyyy!!! What on earth are you doing - I couldn't wake you up with twice as much chaos as this, why do you have to nap /now/?! Maaaaallllyyyyy!!!"
Angus huffs fiercely from his battle with the sham snake, but eventually catches up to the others. His bipedal waddle extorts more energy that it is worth, though, so the monitor drops to the ground and slithers. As the squirrel navigates the edge of the pond, Angus simply dives in. He coasts beneath the water, wake disrupting the ghoulish incandescenc, until he pops up on the opposite shore. The plan is to wriggle ahead of Moruwil; to put up a monitor-sized barrier in the path of his escape.
Several of the shrews catch up to the squirrel through a bypass and are running behind him, "Yore princeship!! What are we t'do?! 'Eyve neva come a'down 'ere in such numbers, we's no match for'em! Mori'wull!" Even they tire behind the pace of the squirrel, but then being inside a snake for nine hours isn't easy!
The glowing blue pool is awesome enough a sight to slow Stubb's run to a trot. There's little chance of his losing sight of the retreating squirrel now, at least.
Moruwil looks across the pool at Stubb and gives a none-too-friendly gesture, before darting into another chamber... across the cavernous space his shouts to the young lizard echo, "Mal-al-al-al-al-ally-ly-ly-ly-ly..."
Trace doesn't seem to want to slow down, and she almost shoves Stubb out of the way as /he/ starts to slow. No squirrels almost knock her over. It's just something that doesn't happen. Trace doesn't really get /why/ they're chasing the squirrel or what the big deal is, but she's got her own personal vendetta at this point. And she's fast, too. "AND WHAT IS A MALLY!?" she shouts, as she sprints.
Hactor finally catches up to Stubb, catching his breath. THe pool dazzles his eye for a moment, but he regrains himself and yells down the tunnel Moruwil whent, "I'll ring your flee bitten neck!!" He then catches some more gasps of air before continuing on.
Angus shakes his scaly frame, slinging water droplets and bits of glowing algae. He stares at it briefly, as if the glowering matter only added to his indignation. Respite is short; this lizard is back to stalking his prey soon enough. "My son!" he shouts back to Trace, desperate words ricocheting among the rocky terrain.
The scratch of Stubb's paws on the sandy ground gives rise to a sound that seems to flit interminably around the chamber, bouncing from wall to wall. "Aye, 'is son," he says in a sharp whisper. "Whoi are you givin' chase if ya don' know wha' yore afta?" He struggles along the lip of the pool's basin a distance, arms heavy at his sides, before coming upon Angus, still dripping from his swim. "We'll catch 'im, ma'e. Don' have nowhere to run now."
Trace had been wandering these caves earlier in the day and she seems to know her way around at least a little bit. And she continues sprinting, moving to follow the squirrel down the other chamber, catching bits and pieces of what everyone else is saying. Sounds like there's something personal going on here. Besides just her annoyance. "We've got him cornered, chaps.." she states aloud to no one in particular.
Angus sends Stubb a soggy snort. "Nowhere t' .." The lizard heaves a breath. ".. run, mate? Iffn' ye' didn't notice, this pit is florkin' *huge*!" Hardly tolerant of dawdling at such pivotal moments, he quickens his trot. In spite of the circumstances, the monitor looks oddly at home in this bleak underworld. He glides along the sandy earth with stark determination, squawking, ".. M-mal? Mall-Mally? Oi, son! Yer papa's comin' fer ye' .."
"Yeah papa's comen Moruwil!," growls Hactor's gravelly voice in the darkness. "Oy Stubb," he begins to the weasel still panting, "What if this tunnel as more than one exit?"
Moruwil rummages through everything in his chamber and gives up. She's gone. He's gone. Whatever it is, it's gone! He's a dead squiggle. He just sits on top of his snake-shedding mattress and waits for them. Waits for death. He's trapped, and there's no point of it now. Suddenly, though, a shrew hails him, "MA' what are y'doin?!! We spotted a'lass, she's wif 'us, get y' and y'tail comin' wif us!! Now!!" He bolts, and both head for a tunnel deeper in underground...
