Galve on the Table - RPLOG
Participants
Date
12/12/479
Log
Galve comes to, feeling groggy and disoriented. Things got a little ugly after Shliek threw those parting shots and the sheep was knocked unconcious before being hauled away. Now there is no way of telling where he is.
The room he finds himself in is quite large and spacious. What he can see, anyway. His arms and legs are securely strapped down to the gurney he is on, and another heavy belt across his torso keeps him pretty much immobile. Someone is speaking, so he can only assume that he is not alone in the high ceilinged room.
"We are fortunate today to have a volunteer to test our latest attempt at changing the fleshcrafter's programming, since its former owners have, so far, been uncooperative in teaching us its mysteries."
Galve struggles against the bonds. "H-hey... W-wha's going on? You said you'd let me go..." He says, his head pounding.
"Ah," comes the voice again, "It sounds like our volunteer is awake!" A general chuckle goes through the unseen beings in the room at the comment and a tall, thin, being steps into Galve's peripheral vision, though his face is concealed behind a hood and mask. "Nice of you to join us," he says dryly, "You cannot imagine how glad we are to have you here! Do you have any questions before we get started?"
"What? Volunteer? I didn't volunteer for this... let me out of these straps!" Galve yells, straining against the bonds to no avail, and trying to look around for his captors.
Whoever the ringleader is, he is not about to reveal the others in the room. "Up until this point," he says to his unseen audience, "We have had only our own people available for testing this remarkable bit of technology. We have been fortunate to find a more. . . expendable subject." The being turns his covered face toward Galve again. "No questions? Excellent."
Galve huffs, though he keeps his ears pricked in case the masked one decided to start monologging. Well, more than he already had been.
The masked being does not, in fact, monologue. "Let us begin, then," he says, stepping off to the side and turning a crank that gradually raises the gurney that Galve is strapped to into an inclined position. Probably to give a better view to the audience, who, like their ringleader are hooded and masked, while a number of those eerily similar bears stand guard.
Off to the side, Galve can now see a plain, black box with a plethora of displays and dials on it where the masked being takes up his position. "I believe we have worked out at least the rudamentary settings of the machine," he says to the crowd, "Any requests?"
"A snail!" someone calls, and other voices answer, "Gator! Parrot! Mole! Spider!"
Galve eyes the device. "The stolen fleshcrafter, I suppose? What did you do to its operators.... torture them? Turn them into twisted monstrosities? You know how dangerous that thing is..." He says, though he was really only going off of what he knew... part of it was all bluff so that he could learn more from the masked menace.
"Stolen?" The leader says, "Hardly! Liberated! This power should be available to all! Not just the fortunate few! You will help us to understand the mysteries that kings and priests have kept from us for far too long." The being waves to the crowd, indicating that he has made his decision and he steps behind the control panel. "Do let us know how you are feeling," he says to Galve, "This is for posterity, after all."
"You're mad. You're all-urk...!" The cries of the sheep were silenced by a surge of power from the machine, warping his flesh according to its programming. The first changes were subtle. A pair of black nubs pushed from his forehead, extending out into long insect antennae as his curled ram's horns crumbled to dust and fell from his head. He jerked and pulled at the bonds roughly as he was transformed.
"I am told that the process is less uncomfortable if you hold still," the ringleader says, though it is obvious that everyone is watching in rapt attention as lines of complex, nearly unfathomable mathemagic streams from the machine and wraps itself around Galve's suddenly changing body.
There are strange and inexplicable tugging and pulling sensations as the antennaed sheep thrashes about, like someone poking at his insides in ways that should be impossible. The sheep's thick, fluffy fleece starts to fall out, leaving the ovine captive completely exposed. His sight and hearing temporarily vanish as his face seems to simply melt, his broad muzzle being reduced to a smoothed imitation of a Creator face, with large, dark eyes.
Galve settles, but groans uncomfortably as his innards are warped by the maths streaming from the machine. His exposed skin was darkening in places, hardening into yellow and black chitin all over his form as a large bulge pushed from where his tail used to be, a nubile insectoid abdomen, growing larger by the second.
As the former sheep's fluffy fleece falls away to dust, a new soft, fluffy mane forms on his collar around his increasingly thin, graceful neck. The changing being feels a tightness in his skin as his waist narrows and his limbs become thinner and finer. There is also some discomfort as fine, gossamer wings start to grow from his spine, though the straps still hold him tight to the gurney.
Galve gurgles as his innards are forcefully re-arranged to fit into his new waspish figure, and from just below his bound arms a second pair of similarly insectile appendages pushes from his skin, chitin glistening with strange fluids like a newborn.
Galve gurgles as his innards are forcefully re-arranged to fit into his new waspish figure. "Y-you're crazy..." He groans, not in pain but extremely sore as the chitin on his form sprouted a light dusting of fine yellow and black hairs.
"And there we have the return of vocalization," the leader says from his place behind the controls, "And the completion of the process." He leaves the machine and walks up to stand in front of the new wasp being, producing a long, metal baton. He reaches out with it to gently prod the long, gracefull antennae protruding from Galve's forehead. "Tell me," he says, "Do you feel any discomfort or pain?"
Galve jerks his head back from the cold of the baton on his antenna. "If you'd stop prodding me I'd be able to say yes." He says, indignant as always.
"Good, good," the masked being says, circling a bit and prodding at the wasps newly acquired stinger. "Any sensitivity in the newly added parts?"
Galve shakes his head, flexing muscles he didnt know he had to extend and retract the stinger from the tip of his weighty abdomen.
"And I can see that all your insides are still inside," Galve's captor says, "That is a delightful turn of events! I would call this a success! I believe that, despite the reticence of our other guests, we should be able to use the fleshcrafter to our own ends, until this people is truly freed from oppression."
Galve huffs, exhausted from the transformation. "They'll come back for me when they figure out I wasnt released..." he says, narrowing his eyes at the masked figure.
A scattered laugh wobbles around the room and the main masked figure steps in front of Galve. "Oh?" he says, "I do not expect that will be a problem. I am sure you can explain all of this to your friends yourself." The hooded figure then holds a damp cloth over the new wasp's nose and mouth, letting the potent fumes do their job.
Everything goes hazy and dark. . . when Galve comes to, he is lying alone in a dim alley, his clothes and gear folded neatly beside him.
Galve sits up and shakes his head, clearing it. He looked at his new, slim fingers and sighed. Nobody would recognize him... and all of his clothes were made for a ovine with a waist at least a foot larger. He pulled on the cloak he had been wearing and headed back to the freeswords' compound. At least he hadnt gotten any shorter.
