Fate - First Reply Trying to Right a Wrong

Blazh was intensively observing the altercation between the farmer and these quadrupedal creatures. It was amusing him to no end, the creature was barely harmed by the crossbow bolt, and if not for consideration on the devourer's behalf, that farmer would have been reduced to an eviscerated corpse within seconds. A smile overtook his face. Perhaps 'smile' wasn't the right word for it -- the top row of teeth was showing, and there was a faint curve to the lips, but there was no crease below the eyes, no movement of the cheeks. On anyone else, it would be a grimace, at best. On this face, however, it was a sign of bliss.

The faint curvature which danced in the corners of his lips was gone with seconds, replaced by a look of utter nonchalance. His facial expression became blanker than a sheet of paper, for all intents and purposes, he could have been in a coma for years and this would still be his reaction. His eyes bore holes in the creatures, both figuratively and literally.

Blazh possessed a magical ability to not only see various flows of energy, both natural and supernatural, but he was also capable of penetrating through solid material, allowing him to dissect even the most alien physiologies by simply looking at them for long enough. And what he saw was quite interesting. The well developed muscle-skeletal structure implied a resilient organism. Their muscles were dense, made mostly of longer fibers, Blazh made an educated guess that they were capable of far greater exertion than those of a human, even on a pound-for-pound basis. A lot of these muscles were also fast-twitch, giving them endurance slightly inferior to that of a human, exchanging it for the ability to perform a wide variety of explosive movements.

Both devourers were recruiting a far greater percentage of the fibers in a muscle group for a single movement compared to most ordinary animals. Their build was not quite as bulky as that of some bears, but their strength was further aided by a multitude of amazing mechanical advantage. The insertion points of their tendons were far down the bones. Blazh theorized that if he were to move the insertion points of his biceps farther down the ulna and radius, he would be able to bend his forearms up with far greater force. He would be easily capable of outperforming the world record barbell curl by at least 200 percent. Yet devourers had this kind of mechanical advantage on all their skeletal muscles.

Their durability was nothing to sneeze at either. They had osteoliths under the skin that interlocked into a webbed pattern. Both creatures sported four distinct shapes of osteoliths, that interlocked so precisely with each other that a needle could barely pass in-between. The only truly unprotected outer areas were their genitals. Blazh concluded that if he had to kill or incapacitate a devourer, he would be forced to rely, largely, on blunt force trauma or exotic toxic chemicals.

He was quick to swat this thought from his head, he did not come here to commit a bloody murder but field-work, gaining intricate knowledge on the biological function of these creatures would serve him well in the future, or at least that is what he thought. His hand swept across the nearby tree trunk, his fingertips gripping into the crevices that ran through the bark. His eyes came to rest on the pattern, chaotic like the cracks in parched summer earth.

It's skeletal bough's twisted and glittered like brass coils set facing a lambent and curling flame, It's great Bole curved this way and that sprouting new branches that birth a pale green, creating luscious leaves that sparkled in faintest light.

His hand started pushing again, but this time, it was different. The oaks sturdy flesh caved in like putty under the force of his enhanced musculature. He reached up with one hand and, with a deafening crack, effortlessly ripped a fifty centimeters thick branch from the trunk of the spruce. He balanced it in that hand for a moment, and then threw it with blinding speed, shattering it against another huge tree, which shook and trembled at the blow. Even he was momentarily surprised by the achieved level of strength.

"Flesh is knowledge," Blazh mumbled under his breath, finally collecting enough resolve to make his trip downhill. He covered the uneven stone path with a great lolloping gait that suggested his ankles were made of tightly coiled springs rather than the sinew and bone the rest of us have. He looked like the winter breeze colliding into inanimate objects and crashing waves hitting the shoreline. He ran at full sprint for good 300 meters, the increased cardiovascular output and a higher blood cell count were the only things that prevented his body from collapsing of exhaustion, a normal person would have gotten a heart attack by now, not that he wasn't dangerously close to one himself. His dangerously overexerted heart was thumping with the force of a pneumatic jackhammer, he could feel it echoing in his ears, it beat so loudly that it seemed to want to escape his chest.

His burning lungs were gasping for air. His legs felt numb and unsteady, painfully sore. He bent over for a second, wheezing as his lungs filled with liters upon liters of oxygen, slowly invigorating his shaky body, bringing it back to its normal state. He was currently within the creature's earshot, maybe some 20-ish meters away from them. Not far from Blazh stood a bewildered farmer, his mind boggled beyond comprehension by what he had just seen. Nothing human-shaped should be so fast, so lithe, so powerful, especially not anything far in excess of two meters tall and with shoulders almost as wide as those of an orc. There was nothing normal about it, a large man moving at the speed of a striking snake.

Pretty Boy said:

Pretty was forced to back off as the Grey turned and swatted at his delicate nose, snarling and batting back at him. Both devourers were equipped with curved claws similar to meat hooks, that caught and snagged in delicate fur and flesh. The pair both startled when they heard the explosion of wood. One tree had struck another? They both whirled, their dispute forgotten for a few precious minutes.

What in the hell was rushing at them? Pretty hissed, backing up. The Grey bunched his fur up around his shoulders to make himself look bigger. Pretty decided not to get in the way, stepping aside and pulling his lips back to snarl at whatever it was. The other male roared and met it head on, intending to let this odd creature meet his fangs and tusks firsthand.

Pretty turned and yanked the quarrel free from his hip, licking at the wound.

Blazh

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He had to be careful now, these creatures were large, strong and there were two of them. Blazh could probably take them out, but the amount of effort required to accomplish such a feat is not something he had on his hands right now. Instead of head-on confrontation, he opted for a pacifist approach, nonchalantly placing both oh his arms against his sides, letting them limp after one another in a relaxed manner. He also made sure to walk slowly, but not so slow as to seem like he was stalking or prowling. For someone his size, Blazh was unexpectedly fluid. His body was not only a thing of immense grace and beauty to watch in action, but of supreme functionality; lightning-fast reflexes, supreme flexibility, awesome power, feline grace, and muscularity combined in one total -- and very lethal -- package.

His eyes observed the pair with the outmost interest, he might have been a grown man in his fifties (even if the physical features did not imply that), yet his eyes had a childish twinkle in them, little flecks of light irregularly scattered through his blue iris. This made him look like a child who just got their one-way ticket to a candy store.

"Be calm, I am not here to hard you." He spoke in the friendliest tone that his vocal cords could muster, it was a disciplined voice, laced with intellect and an air of affable pride. Of course, there was still an underlying intent behind his tone, curiosity. A man ever so curious, a scholar and an occult scientist. Throughout his life, Blazh had indulged in various areas of expertise, mostly related to medicine, biology, alchemy, and on rare occasions, even necromancy. He was eager to study these creatures, to understand how they worked and how their inner workings could be bent and manipulated to benefit his cause.

As soon as he was, by his rough estimations, 9 meters away from the pair, he squatted low, arms crossed over his knees. He tilted his head to the side, giving them a friendly wave. The latter of which completely bamboozled the poor farmer who was, but a few meters behind them. The older fella lowered his crossbow, taking a few steps back, he was more worried about this "other" male, whom he assumed either knew what he was doing or was batshit insane. Either of the two would make the stranger highly dangerous, and the farmer wanted none of that, so he loaded in another bolt, aiming it for Blazh's backside.

In any other situation, Blazh would have been perfectly aware of the impending danger, but right now, he was far too preoccupied with marveling at the alien creatures. "I am going to go out on a limb here and assume that you can understand human speech, at least loosely enough." There was something strange about the presence he radiated. It was not entirely friendly yet...it didn't trigger a fight or flight response either. Perhaps the best way to describe it was as “different” or “enigmatic”. "I did not come here to bring you any harm, I am simply a humble researcher who needs some answers." There were no lies behind his words, and no hint laced within, as he was as honest as a sapient creature could be, as was his assessment. His facial expression was glazed, as readable as a blank sheet of paper and one could not discern what Blazh was truly thinking.

​

Pretty Boy

He analyzed the creature that was charging at him, several hundred kilos of bones, muscles, and sinew. He could kill it, but that would be a waste of time and effort on his part, still, he observed, his enhanced eyesight allowing him to watch it move in slow-motion. His brain was already alerted, processing the visual data in one-twentieth of a second, and yet it was plenty of time – his eyes and his mind moved so quickly that one step was enough. It was a peculiar sensation, the balance between speed and clarity.

Blazh darted aside, easily dodging the incoming threat, as he did, he appeared blur like, like a scrap of gossamer flailing amidst the stormy winds. He even went as far as to jokingly bow, imitating a matador. Within a moment's notice, he straightened back up, dusting off any unwanted particles of dirt from his expensive coat. His face wrinkled with bleak unsatisfaction, he had found a hole in his precious coat, a hole large enough to stick his pinky through. A most likely culprit was some random branch, he was not paying much attention to obstacles while running downhill some minutes ago, and his frame must have brushed against a pointy branch, damaging his expensive clothing article.

It was a misfortune, but not a grave one, yet still large enough to draw out a sigh from the male's lungs. He paused to take a deep breath. He let it all out in one sigh, watching it float off like smoke in the breezy air.

Nonetheless, there were more important things to deal with, namely, the remaining devourer; who thankfully looked more friendly than his companion. Blazh instinctively turned to face Pretty, folding his arms behind his back and starting to get closer, he was sporting a steely expression and his steps had a marching quality, an observing person could deduce that he was possibly a former military man or a mercenary, or both at the same time.

"Hello there, I am Blazh." He unhooked his arms, using his dominant one to give Pretty a friendly wave. "As mentioned before, I am a scientist....sort of, I came here to document some pieces of information regarding your species, purely for academic purposes. Would you mind cooperating with me?" He paused for a second, blinking, clearly thinking about something before his thin lips finally parted ways again. "If this goes smoothly, I can reward you with something, like food, or a free medical examination, I doubt you have doctors around here."

Pretty Boy

Blazh winced as barbed bolts sank into his shoulder and lower back. His flesh was tougher than normal, so the penetration was not deep from this distance, his circulatory system started releasing biosynthetic cells, serving the same purpose as the normal human body's platelets, just significantly faster. Scar tissue was forming in a matter of seconds, effectively preventing massive blood loss and infection of the wound. Besides this, Blazh's body also released a large quantity of endorphins, affecting primarily the peripheral nervous system; inhibiting transmission of pain signals by binding μ-receptors of peripheral nerves, which blocked their release of neurotransmitter substance P. This, in combination with relatively shallow penetration and almost instant clothing made him appear no worse for wear, even with multiple sharp objects sticking out of his torso.

Frankly enough, he was getting tired of these people's shit, they were not only blatantly assaulting him, but also proved to be a hindrance to his work, driving off the devourer. In light of these events, he concocted a perfect retaliatory plan. But first, he had to move, going in the same direction that pretty went, at about 50 km/h, which was not that quick for someone like him. He ran in the direction opposite of the peasantry mob, exerting dominance over his own flesh to sculpt a strange, circular object the size of a pineapple. It was a gnarly thing, with a deformed, fleshy exterior from which chitinous spikes jotted out in uneven patterns. It was about one kilogram heavy, out of that one kilogram roughly 70 percent was ammonium nitrate, an explosive compound. The other 30 percent was a relatively thin fleshy membrane and aforementioned chitinous spikes.

Harnessing his inner athlete, Blazh shout-pouted the explosive device towards the crowd, not directly at them, but close enough; relying on an electricity-based detonator made out of a small, but potent cluster of bioelectric cells, also known as Electrocytes. The device would detonate roughly 1.5 meters above the ground, sending out an omnidirectional hail of shrapnel, the explosion itself was a non-issue, as its shockwave was simply too weak to hurt a grown man at this distance. But the barbed chitin spikes would incapacitate anyone in close vicinity, not outright killing them, but still creating an effective diversion.

Pretty Boy

This was starting to get annoying, not only was the unruly mob getting on his motherfucking nerves, but the quadrupedal creature was also making its escape. In any other situation, he would try to remain calm and collected, but this was the straw that broke the camel's back. Blazh came here, into a dirty bum-fuck nowhere, to QUICKLY collect some biological samples, go home, take a bath, and get to studying whatever he brought over. Instead of that, he had to run, exhaust his energy, lose the targetted creature from his sight, got his coat ruined, and had a bunch of hillibilly degenerates shooting at him.

His attire was ruined, mottled, and dirtied with bloody stains while arrows clung to it, the coat itself was handmade from layers of special fibers woven together, it alone must have costed a small fortune. Blazh took it off; no, he pried it off his body, tearing out the remaining arrows along the way, the man no longer wanted to look like a dirty needle cushion. He was left with a sporty looking undershirt, which was also stained, thankfully less so than the discarded coat. A pulsating vein popped up on his forehead, and he shook in silent fury. As if on instinct, he took a deep inhale through his nasal cavity, as deep as he possibly could. The air in his lungs expanded as if on automatic refill, and with the rising of his chest came a sense of calm. His brain conjured up an image of waves gently rising over wet sands, birds chirping, anything that could sufficiently calm him down.

Moments later, his face had all the emotion of wet concrete, his facial muscles just as loose. There was no anger, no sadness, no joy or resentment. For all the presence he brought to the area, he might as well have been a store mannequin. Blazh cracked his neck to relieve any tension, before unceremoniously snorting. The latter might have seemed a tad unnecessary, but there was a purpose behind it. Blazh was inhaling as much of Pretty's scent as he could, like police trained bloodhound, he was hellbent on tracking down the creature by any available means.

He lowered himself into a sprinting stance, muscles screaming as they held back the overwhelming strain. One foot forward, and he was gone, like an arrow, he was hard to see and even harder to track. For, while he rocketed over, under, and through the thick jade maze at a rate that should have reduced everything around him to a streaky green blur, yet he could see each tiny leaf on all the small branches of every insignificant shrub that he passed. One thing was for sure tho, he was following Pretty AND moving away from the mob, as far as he could get with his current stamina reserve.

Pretty Boy

Blazh stopped dead in his tracks, feet dragging across the dirt, leaving him anchored to one spot. He had to unbury his ankles from the loose soil and shake away the excess dirt that gathered along with them. Now it was a matter of convincing the defensive devourer to work with him, preferably, without having to fight it first. Blazh was already discontent by wasting this much time on chasing after the creature and dealing with the unruly mob, his clothing was damaged, dirty, and there was no telling how much more he could take before going ballistic.

He wanted to relieve himself, if only a little, so he reached for his pockets, pulling out something that looked like a small teabag. It was a paper wrapping containing chewing tobacco. He poped the content in between his gums and lips, before starting to masticate, picking up a leisure pace. The more he chewed and sucked, the faster did nicotine reach peak levels in his bloodstream and entered the brain. It made his muscles relax, if only a little, while slightly altering the biochemistry of his brain, nicotine was an addicting substance, but it sure did wonders in the stress-relieving area.

"Okay..." This was a better sensation. Though he was already awake, he opened his eyes as if from a deep sleep, there was an expression of discomforting clarity on his face. Unaware of his heart beating or the rise and fall of his chest, the male surveyed the beast, up and down, inquisitively; but with a touch of disdain, for it was an irrational creature. "We can do this the hard way, or the easy way." Step by step, he steadily began to neutralize the distance between himself and the creature. Much like a big cat, he did not walk but stalk and prowl instead. Precisely shifting the weight of his frame from shoulder to shoulder. Aware of each step he took, constantly immersing his senses in the world around him. "I am not here to fight you, but you seemingly insist on being aggressive, if you want to stay unharmed, better drop that act."

He popped a sharp bone spike from his palm, its length coated in a potent, paralytic toxin. If the devourer attacked him, he would use the implement to sedate it, the toxin was non-lethal, as its main objective was incapacitation, not murder. "I give you the choice."

Of course, it was not in his best interest to kill Pretty, he needed him alive and....preferably in one piece. He also needed several samples such as tissue, blood, saliva, and fur, all of which he could have easily obtained without conflict. But, the creature either didn't have as good of a grasp on language as he thought, or it was just naturally skittish and defensive. He had to think of his safety, in either case, hence the non-lethal restrainment method. That way, he could kill two birds with one stone. On one hand, pretty wouldn't be dead even if he attacked, on the other hand, Blazh could save himself from any serious injuries inquired by trying to outright kill the creature.

This also reminded him that he had to deal with a bunch of angry, most likely pitch-fork and torch armed farmers, but that was a thought for later.

Pretty Boy

Pretty Boy said:

Pretty didn’t like this. The other man had cornered him and was advancing on him, threatening him, and had withdrawn one of those scary looking bone spikes. Pretty’s hackles rose on his velvety fur, bunching up tight around his shoulders. He inflated his marsupium and let out the air in a gutteral hiss, similar to the threat of a big puff adder.

He did not like this. He reared up and unsheathed his claws, charging forward a few feet and slapping the ground. It wasn’t an outright attack, but it was a very strong warning to stay away from him. The man spoke like he wasn’t going to harm him but that spike in his hand wasn’t generating a lot of confidence. Pretty wasn’t born yesterday as to the lies humans could tell.

He hissed again and moved his back end to the left, preparing to back up and away from the other man. He was preparing himself to bolt again, and the second the opportunity presented itself he would.

Blazh

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This was one of those "do or die" situations, he had to act quickly, create a diversion; a straight-forward frontal attack would be unfavorable, even if he won, Blazh would get himself injured and probably kill Pretty by accident. He needed a better plan, something to distract the fussy creature while he sedated it, preferably without having to put too much effort into the process.

The soil that they were currently standing on was so rich that it was quite black. Soft and loose, threading on it felt like stepping on wet clay. The soil was so damp that the worms had surfaced to breathe and the crows fluttered over the grass with their inky wings, each of them eating at the sudden buffet. This relatively weak structural integrity gave him an ingenious idea. Blazh pushed the tip of his booth into the ground, using its reinforced metallic tip to dig out a medium-sized stone, slightly smaller than your average tennis ball.

It was round enough for his liking, unevenly shaped in some places but smooth for the most part. Just to touch the stone to the sole of one's shoe was something electric, ordinary, and extraordinary all at once. Using firm pressure, he checked for density and sturdiness; there was no cracking or splitting, even after Blazh used the rock to support at least half of his body weight. The results were satisfying, at least partially.

Truthfully, a slightly larger rock would have been preferable, but he was under temporal constraints and had to work with whatever was available at the moment. Blazh moved his dominant leg back, straining the muscles from the core and downwards. Rotating the hip back into extension and flexing the knee during the backswing phase of the kick. As the hip began to flex, the knee continued to do the same, in a slightly less pronounced fashion, and it was held in this position for a brief period as the hip continued to strain. The knee began to extend before the hip reached maximal angular velocity, with such speed and precision he managed to impart a greater percentage of the overall kinetic energy onto the rock.

He made sure to kick with the inside part of his foot, not the tip, as the latter would most likely result in several broken toes.

The projectile whistled toward Pretty with commendable speed, like a scrap of gossamer caught in a wind storm. A living man would have found it hard to track its movement; but it was, nonetheless, just a clever distraction from the true danger. The bone spike was reshaped to look eerily similar to a throwing knife, with a small handle and a slightly larger "blade". Its geometric center was placed at the same spot as its center of mass. This gave Blazh two possible options, either jump into the fray and try to stab the creature while it tried to dodge the rock; or observe in what direction it moved while dodging/being distracted, then throw the knife in the said direction and hope it hits the center of mass.

Neither of the two plans was exactly flawless, there was room for error, and in the case of throwing the knife, he would have to carefully calculate the force required to pierce the boney chainmail; to quickly neutralize Pretty, the neurotoxin had to administered either into a blood vessel or a muscle, then re-absorbed by the tissues.

Pretty Boy

Pretty Boy said:

The man stopped and picked up...a rock? He examined it like a bird with a coin, prompting Pretty to move away a bit. This man could have all the rocks he pleased as long as he left him alone. Instead, the maniac proceeded to whip the object at him, hitting him smartly on the nose. Pretty snorted and shook his head, wiggling his lips to alleviate the stinging.

Alright, that was it.

Pretty filled his lungs and roared. The noise was deafening, well above the volume any normal bear or lion could produce. It was a fairly accurate portrayal of his feelings on the matter. Who went around bonking people with stones? He stamped the ground again with a loud snort, having made his point, and backed away again. His poor nose was smarting.

Asshole.

He wrote in the loamy soil, pointing a claw at Blazh. He’d heard the insult used before, and now that he knew what it meant, it seemed appropriate here. Regardless of his feelings on rocks, the peasants would likely be either assembling mounts or scraping up gold to hire someone. Pretty doubted they were still chasing them; he wouldn’t have chased them. The humans just wanted them off their territory.

Blazh

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Now or never it was, Blazh had an opening if only for a split second, he had to act quickly. For once, it was Blazh who found himself living more slowly than his opponent. What happened couldn't have lasted longer than half a second, but it seemed like an hour. He cocked back his arm as if he were winding a watch. With a tremendous force, he released it, and it arced forward, releasing the throwing projectile with all the power that he could muster.

He was aiming to hit Pretty on the chest or neck, the biggest targets on the creature's muscular body, but a limb would suffice too. It was a simple objective, put the devourer to sleep in the quickest, least energy expanding fashion.

Pretty Boy

Pretty Boy said:

He was throwing something else at him? Pretty planted his rear legs and lunged to the left, meaning to bolt. He felt the sting of the spine along his flank, but he ran anyway. He could only assume the spine hadn’t struck through his natural armor.

As Pretty ran, he felt...cloudy in his head. He slowed, stumbled, and caught himself. What..? He looked back at the bone spike and ripped it out with a paw, but he only seemed to get dizzier. Pretty stumbled a few more steps before falling on his belly. He growled. His head was so heavy. He laid down on his side, and succumbed to sleep.

Blazh

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At long last, he could take a much-needed break. The devourer was out cold, he pumped him with enough neurotoxin to tranquilize a small elephant. Pretty would be asleep for a few hours, more than enough time for Blazh to collect the required samples and...possibly drag the creature with himself.

With a dignified sigh, he slumped against the nearest tree trunk. His muscular legs felt sore, they weren't appreciating the fact that Blazh made them run at full sprint for over half a kilometer, and they rebelled, sending dull pain through his nervous system. It hurt and it was uncomfortable in no small amount, but Blazh accumulated far worse injuries in the past. Broken bones, severed ligaments, even losing vital organs. A dire wolf once tore out his trachea, Blazh choked on his own blood for good 40 seconds before the healing factor kicked in. To him, those 40 seconds felt like years, decades even.

The male reached out to uncomfortably rub his neck, which was being assailed by phantom pain. In that moment of bleak clarity, a thought crossed his mind; what if he had dropped his field supplies? He ran for a while, they could have easily fallen out without him even noticing it.

He panicked for a moment, both hands buried into pockets, anxiously searching for any objects that might have been inside...Blazh came up with nothing, no vials, no scalpels, no syringe, no hypodermic needles. He had nothing, his equipment was gone, entirely. He couldn't even hope to go back and pick it up, as it was surely contaminated by dirt and various microorganisms that dwelled within the soil.

He hung his head low, teeth grinding in silent fury. Blazh exhaled sharply, air escaped from his lungs like hot steam, followed by an iconic high-pitched whistle; eerily similar to what you would hear from a heated tea kettle. He was angry, he had an urge to grab the biggest boulder nearby and bash in the creature's head out of pure spite. Alas, he could not bring himself to do it, he needed Pretty alive, and he didn't enjoy murdering animals either. On the other hand, his expensive clothing was ruined, and his irredeemably rare medical equipment stained beyond repair. It would take no small amount of money to placate his losses.

Hours have passed since then. Blazh had barely managed to drag the creature back to his mansion in Alliria. He made sure to stuff pretty in the basement. The devourer was bound by 4 sets of heavy steel chains. Two sets to tie his front and back legs. Two more sets to anchor his body to the stone wall.

It was unlikely that the chains could be torn off easily. And even if they were, the basement doors were made from thick stone. And the stairway leading to the upper floors was cut off by reinforced metal doors. Blazh didn't want any of his experiments to run away. In that vein, he made sure that everything about his “work” was incredibly sturdy.

The room was fairly clean. The floor was covered in smooth marble tiles. You'd expect a dungeon to be damp and smelly, but this one wasn't. It wasn't cold either, Blazh installed a central heating system a while ago. The pipes extended to each and every corner of the house.


Pretty Boy

Pretty Boy said:

Pretty woke, in a strange and cramped place. He snorted. He was on cool stone, and he felt heavy around his wrists and ankles. He was dizzy and felt sick...what had the stranger hit him with? He was going to be ill. He leaned over and vomited up a half-digested deer, the gelatinous mess of meat, bone and stomach acid hitting the floor with a wet splat. It looked like it had been crushed, owing to the impressive bone plates in Pretty’s throat that compacted large prey down to fit. He groaned and lay on his side, biting at the steel cuffs around his wrists.

What was he to do? The floor was cold and marble. It was warmer, perhaps enchanted, in the rest of the place but there were no windows. Underground? He groaned and rubbed at his face. He needed water desperately. He lifted his head and bugled, a loud noise that sounded like geese caught in a meat grinder.

Blazh

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Minutes later, the heavy metal door started to budge. Someone was disengaged the locks and turning on the knob. Swinging open, it revealed Blazh in a new, clean attire. He was carrying a large bowl of water in one hand. As well as a medium-sized briefcase looking implement. It was an old and battered briefcase with protruding tongues of leather. Its hide had known all weathers and rough treatments, enough to scar and mottle it.

Strolling to the other end of the room, he set the briefcase on a large metal table. The table looked rather unpleasant. With it's polished surface and various leather straps. The straps were likely used for restraining whoever was laid down on the table.

Blazh briefly glanced at pretty, noting that the creature had thrown up. He was expecting that. The whole sedation thing and hours long trip didn't seem to be pleasant for anyone. Tho he felt some pity for the creature, Blazh still had to clean up after it.

He placed the water bowl near pretty's head. Putting on a pair of rubbery gloves, he opened the doors which connected this room to another. The other room was where the huge furnace. A source of heat for the whole mansion. It was just about large enough to fit a whole man inside. Burning with incredible intensity, it radiated heat from several bags worth of coal which were dumped into it earlier.

Blazh reluctantly open its front doors. His face was being met with heat in an instant. A wave of scorching hot air washed over him. Blazh dumped in the carcass as quickly as he could. Instantly shutting the furnace door afterwards.

The flames were hot enough to incinerate flesh. They would reduce the bones to ash, but he intended to clean them up anyways. Blazh quickly moved back to the room where Pretty was being jailed. A small look of disgruntlement flashing on his face. He still had Pretty's bile to clean up. It drank like rotten meat and pickled cabbages. He had to use a high alcohol percentage solution to scrub it clean and disinfect the floor.

Once finished with that, he moved back to his briefcase. Opening it up to travel rows upon rows of various medical implements. Scalpels, hypodermic needles, flesh hooks, glass syringes, even rubber tubes. Right now, he needed four different vials. They were intended for sample gathering. One for blood, saliva, tissue and hair.

Pretty Boy

The chains weren't anchored directly to the wall. But to a set of curved metallic bars which were embedded deep into stone. Each bar was about as thick as three human fingers put together. They were dug roughly a meter into the stone. There were five bars in total. One for each set of chains that were binding Pretty in place. Even if he sheered off the top layer of stone, it wouldn't work. To free himself he'd either have to sever the chains or somehow dig up the individual bars. The former would be incredibly hard to do, and the latter would require no small amount of time and effort.

His face was showing an unimpressed expression. Blazh stared at Pretty with the expression of utter nonchalance. He waved the glass syringes, it's hypodermic needle glistering menacingly in the basement's artificial lighting. “See this? It's for taking blood samples. I am not intend to cut you open, foolish creature.”

The scalpel looked both old-fashioned and revolutionary at the same time. It's blade and neck were fashioned from high carbon steel, polished to perfection. The metal was sculpted in such detail and with such proportions that no normal blacksmith could hope to replicate. The scalpel's handle was polished oak, oiled for protection and shine. It added another layer of flavor to the instrument's overall appearance.

It was a tool, no more. Either for a noble doctor or an evil, cold-hearted murderer. And so the importance laid not in the blade yet the heart that wielded it. Blazh had no intentions of dissecting the creature, the scalper was merely for his to get a small Nick on the flesh. A tiny tissue sample for later use. But he couldn't do it if Pretty kept trashing. No, actually, he could. But he'd be running the risk of damaging the expensive medical instrument. He needed the creature to calm down. His patience wore thin earlier. Tho he was rejuvenated by a hearty meal and warm bath. There was no telling just how considerate he would remain if things kept getting unnecessarily complicated.

To prevent further discourse, Blazh tried his best to explain the situation to Pretty. Of course, his words were laced with cold calculation, not the most... endearing tone. It wasn't threatening either thought.

“I need the scalper to get a sample of your tissue.” Blazh felt a bit ridiculed. This horse sized creature displayed signs of overt fear. And from what? A finger sized scalpel. Blazh was about to wonder out loud if Pretty even had the basic understanding of his own biology. He was fucking huge, and covered in bone chain mail. Blazh couldn't use the scalpel to dissect him. He wasn't some sort of idiotic charlatan.

“I wholeheartedly advise that you stop damaging the wall. Those metal rods are sunken deep inside, it's going to take ages to dig them even halfway out.” Blazh made an offhanded comment. Not even an actual threat. He seemed too busy disinfecting his medical equipment with a high percentage alcohol solution.

Pretty Boy

Pretty Boy said:

Pretty bared his teeth, snapping them nastily. He was prepared to defend himself. He tugged against the chains and tossed his head, determined to keep the man away from him. He wasn’t going to sit still. How could he trust anything this man was saying? Why did he want his blood and skin? Some horrific black magic. He crouched down and hooked his tusks around the bar keeping his neck chained down. He twisted, and the metal gave a deep groan. He managed to bend it a bit, the muscles on his shoulders and neck popping as he strained.

He unhooked his tusks with a nasty growl, and snapped his teeth. He wasn’t letting the other man get anywhere near him. He’d been kidnapped and now chained! He was still nauseous from the drug. Pretty picked up the bowl of water and tossed the water at Blazh with a sharp jerk of his head. The bowl he put between his forelegs, and guarded. Something told him it would come in useful later.

First it was just hair and blood. Then it became one of his teeth, or his beautiful tusks, or god forbid...knowing the obsession two legs had with gelding things..! This man could be up to anything! He didn’t deserve a single bit of his beautifully plush fur.

Pretty tossed his head angrily. He’d skewer him if he came close. He heard stories of evil two legs who kept Devourers as dray beasts and bred them like dogs. Maybe this man was one.

Blazh

Click to expand...

Blazh twisted and bent unnaturally to evade the splash of water. It seemed like his joins had a range of motion superior to that of a normal human. And it looked mighty weird. Returning to the previous position, Blazh cracked his neck, unimpressed by Pretty's display of bravado.

He wordlessly moved closer to the creature. Making sure to approach it from the side, where it's thighs were. That way Pretty couldn't make a full turn to stab or bite him. Blazh didn't waste much time on the pleasantries. Grasping the syringe firmly, he sank its needle into the flesh. He bypassed the bony chain mail much like any needle would. Once deep enough, the needle hit a sub-cutaneous blood vessel. Starting to draw out blood, he carefully observed the syringe's measurements. He required a specific amount of blood for research. If he were to take too little, that'd require him to repeat the collecting process. Such thoughts were highly unfavorable, especially given how stubborn these creatures were.

Once satisfied, he popped open a glass vial and moved a few steps away from Pretty. Blazh proceeded to empty the syringe content into the vial, making it half full.

In the tube the blood was as bright as any field-born poppy. But something made him raise an eyebrow. The devourer's blood was thicker, more viscous. There wasn't much color difference when compared to human blood. Yet its overall density appeared to be higher, even if not by a huge margin.

Feeling intrigued, Blazh reached for his briefcase in order to retrieve a magnifying glass. It consisted of a piece of convex-shaped glass. He has to hold at the right distance between his eye and the vial for the object to be in focus.

His face was one of barely concealed glee, there was triumph in those ice-blue eyes and his mouth twitched upwards on the left, dimpling his cheek. The smirk grew over his face like a lazy teacher's check mark, the faded “red ink” stretching up into his dimple.

“So this is how you have such a good endurance and immune system, huh. A larger quantity of blood components. Interesting.”

Pretty Boy