Plagued Beast - RPLOG
Participants
Date
17/5/477
Log
Beach day! The single day which marks the start of summer for beings in Firmament, sponsored by most of the noble families and a glorious excuse for one to enjoy sun, sand and surf. Sure, it's not as if the beach is closed to anyone anytime, but it's always better when it's Official (TM).
Vendors ply the sand, selling cool drinks out of iced buckets and season-appropriate seafood. Even noon mass is delivered by a priest on the beach, everyone appropriately dressed in swimsuits. The sky is clear, hot rays beating down...on a large, misshapen, tentacled blob that's washed up on the sands, a small ring of curious onlookers already having gathered about it in a ring.
"It's a cephalopotamus," one of them, a small-clanned sparrow, declares, pecking at an iced treat. "It also happened earlier this year - one of them things beached itself and died. They're not supposed to come up to the surface like this."
Hartford stumps across the beach, his usual tabard discarded in favor of a pair of black and white striped bathing shorts. It's not often he gets a day off as a guard for the Blackbacks, but he plans to enjoy beach day to the fullest! Joining the crowd, he stares at the strange, blobby thing on the beach. "Should we push it back in or something?" he asks in his deep, slow voice.
A mumble, a flick of her three tails, and Flora makes her way onto the beach. She's clad in another outfit than usual, still meant for work, but not fully made out of leather. Instead, it seems to be a simple, cloth outfit, made to breathe and with segmented leather pads on the front, back and arms, allowing airflow but protecting the vital parts of her body.
"Flora is quite sure that has no use. It's dead, mister... Hartford, Flora believes? We could put it back into the water, but it would just wash up again, due to the way the water flows... Flora thinks we have two options, yes... Three. Let it lay here, get it far enough into the sea to figure out, or cut it open to see what, if anything, went wrong for it, yes yes."
Elroar arrives near the ring of people around the giant globular tentacled thing. The Komodo's left most of his armor behind, clad in only a red set of swim shorts and his plated belt with greatsword. "Aye, well if its dead, we should at least get rid of it before it starts reeking. As for cutting it open, well, I could, but I doubt the barracks want anyone smelling of rotten cephleo-thing vicera." He shakes his head, such a waste, hey at least he got to go to the beach.
Rainer has only one outfit, for the record, and he's wearing it! Yes: big, poofy pants. But he's rolled the legs up to his knees,so there's that. The growing commotion surrounding the landed carcass rouses him from his impromptu nap, and with a yawn and a stretch he sits up, squinting bleary-eyed against the glare of the afternoon sun, and within a minute he's upright and shaking the sand out of his fur. "What's all the hub-bub?" inquired of no one imparticular as he canters over, wiggling his way to the front row. "Ohhh neat! It's some ... thing! Does it have a name? 'Cuz if it doesn't we're totally calling them Gloobers from now on. No, no, wait, that's dumb. How about... Sand Shuckles! Eh? You like that name, li'l fella? You wanna be a Sand Shuckle?" And down into a crouch he goes, twirling index finger over his head and then extending it towards the beastie to give it a poke...!
Rainer's finger sinks into the jelly-like beastie, as if he'd touched a rather soft gelatin dessert. Nothing at first...then faintly, he can't feel his finger any more.
The sparrow, still looking on, pecks once more at his dessert of crushed ice and fruit syrup. "Ach, it'll wear off after a few hours. Mostly harmless, 'less you touch the tentacles. Physicians give it to numb pain, although the thing is quite hard to find. Folks, stand back. This could get messy. Was, the last time I saw some Freeswords do this. This should be a good show."
As if on cue, the ring of beings widens a little, giving everyone enough room. Some of them take a good seat on the warm sand - it's not everyday that one gets free entertainment, after all.
A mumble, a flick of the tails as Flora pulls out one of her scorchers and moves her fingers along a circular rune on the side, sounding a few clicks from within the device... Cuious. Even so, she's standing a distance away from the thing, almost as far as the circle of people. Soon enough, she aims the gun at the cephalopotamus and tries to create a clean, if somewhat unsteady cut with a downwards motion.
Nothing happens for a moment, perhaps due to the blob-like creature's translucent form - although one gets a very pretty light display as the beam from Flora's scorcher cuts through its hide. Thankfully, it hasn't had any time to properly - ah, ferment under the sun - and all that happens is that a small gush of liquids emerges from its side with a wet, sickly sound, pooling onto the sand before being washed away by the tide. Considering that this is beach day and that there are plenty of beings swimming, perhaps releasing a contact poison into the water might not have been the best of ideas...or maybe it'll be diluted enough to not matter.
Hartford isn't totally sure what just happened, but he has suddenly found himself standing inside the ring of onlookers with a group of Freeswords. The deer starts a little when he is approached by Flora. "Hello Highlady Flora," he says, thumping a fist to his chest and bowing as if he was still in uniform, then stepping quickly out of the way as she levels her scorchers at the blob on the sand. He watches as the thing deflates a bit and its juices wash into the water. "Is that gonna be a problem, do you think?" the bulky deer asks.
Elroar hrms. The Komodo standing in front of the big blob and the shaky cut down the side. "Well, that'll make the people in the water rather numb... Let's hope it doesn't." He honestly hopes miss laser-happy is done. "Right lets see what makes it tick, or made it stop ticking." Well it didn't smell so he took that as a good sign. At least he'll just be numb for a little while. The burly Komodo takes one side of the split, trying to tug it open wider.
"Oh yeah, it's a Sand Shuckle alright." Rainer keeps poking and nudging it, until he realizes that everyone's suddenly given the thing a wide berth. "Er, did I miss something? What?" Looking up and around he spies Flora brandishing contraption and after making such a face as suggests he briefly though she might plan to use that thing on -him-, he scoots to safety, crossing arms in front of his chest as he observes the proceedings. "Why do I feel like everyone here knows something I don't." No sooner as he aired that remark, then he lifts his hand, previously used for Shucklepoking, stares at it a moment, then gives it a little shaking out, eyes moving back to the disection in progress.
"Mister Komodo? If you would wait a moment... This was to... Release pressure, yes... Flora can just cut a bigger hole," she mumbles, brandishing her scorcher and moving closer, after making sure Elroar moves back a feet or two. Soon enough, she's cut a larger, circular hole on the side, around the point where she made the first incission, now that she's sure there won't be any venom or other nasty things sprayed in her face. "Mister sparrow said the tentacles were... More venomous? Mind if Flora cuts a few off to research?" she mumbles, pulling out a pair of leather gloves from one of her pockets.
Thankfully, no one starts drowning horribly, so it seems that all the water in the Aqua Magna must be sufficient to clean that particular taint. With Flora's larger hole now cut into the dead creature, the jelly-like flesh gives way easily under Elroar's strength, the komodo staying clear of the dead cephalopotamus' stinging tentacles.
It soon becomes clear that something is not quite right with the beast's insides. What organs that might have been in the jelly-like interior have been partially eaten away, liquified by some virulent plague into a black-and-green pus-like substance. It's enough to cause the closest onlookers to shake their heads and walk away before they lose their appetites.
Further inside appears to what passes for the beast's stomach, and a number of objects are visible within, upon closer examination.
Hartford holds a meaty hand over his muzzle to try to block the worst of the stench. "Creators," he rumbles, "That's awful!" The bulky deer peers at the liquified mess through watering eyes. He leans in to get a better look, despite the smell. "Wassthat stuck down there in it's belly?" he asks.
A mumble, a flick of the tails as Flora cuts off a few stingers and collects them in a small, leather carry-bag of sorts, which she quickly stows away in a specifc, previously empty part of her bag, moving on towards the golem and curiously eying the things stuck inside the cephalopotamus.
There are various things, indeed, caught within the wagon-sized creature's stomach, visible through the clear flesh. Fish bones, as well as bones of something larger-hopefully not a being. Several half-digested splinters of wood. One or two parcels, and a small box tied with twine. All of them are in various stages of digestion, the creature obviously having been quite the extreme omnivore, and the most likely cause is a once-tightly stoppered crystal flask that looks like it came from the twine-tied box.
That aside, there's still the question of how best to dispose of the carcass, especially in front of half the population of Firmament.
Elroar holds on to the slab of carcass he managed to rip off. His hands were already numb as it was. "Now what do you suppose this lummox ate." He peers inside, he was numb, but he wasn't exactly a fan of being covered in possibly more toxins. The flesh made him numb, that pus could do anything. Maybe the same thing did to this Cephelopotmus. He holds the flesh in one hand, pulling out his greatsword with his other... No small task for someone with numb hands. "Right, Lets dispose later... Once we know what that is. Looks like he ate a cargo hold."
"Flora isn't going to grab that, no... Flora does suggest using gloves to whoever is grabbing those, yes... Since they killed the thing, yes yes. If there's any of that stuff left, Flora would also like a small sample, wants to know what it is, yes," she mumbles with a grin, procuring a small, uncracked crystal flask to collect the fluids in.
Elroar sighs. Right, looks like he's fishing this stuff out. He leans into the gaping hole they managed to cut/tear in the carcass, using his sword to cut through the stomach and start pulling the half digested cargo closer to the group. "Ya know, I would say this is the strangest thing I've ended up inside. But I'd be lying." He drops the fleshy slab on the sand to use his other hand to help fish out the goods. crates, packages, flask all while trying to avoid most of the goo that used to be the rest of this thing's organs. "Ugh."
Indeed, looks like the beastie ate a cargo hold. Once the items are retrieved and wiped reasonably free of slime, some of the items become more apparent: a number of the parcels appears to be that of crudely refined ebon, with a hastily-scrawled note to send it to an address in the shanties. There are other things which Elroar has fished out: a few old rings and other bits of jewellery, largely not of any true value, a rusty musket. The crystal flask which escaped from the package is empty and drained, but there are still four more in the box, which, incidentally, is addressed to a certain associate professor Lewis Pastor in the Firmament Academy, along with a hastily scrawled "Do not open!!!!! Deadly!!!!!" Five exclaimation marks, truly the sign of an insane mind...but twice? Does that make it doubly insane?
It certainly must have been horrible enough to poison a such a creature, though.
Hartford walks around, looking at the strange array of items strewn on the sand. He reads the note, with a little difficulty, then shakes his head. "Don't know many of those Academy bigwigs," he says, looking back at the poor, dead monster. "So what do we do with the beastie?" he asks.
"Flora... Suddenly does not want a sample anymore, no... But Flora does want to know what this is, yes," she mumbles, holding up a vial with a gloved hand and looking at it curiously, before turning to the beast... "Flora doesn't know... Flora supposes Flora could take a few samples, but... Flora prefers not meeting the same fate the beast did, no... Flora thinks... Flora thinks it might be best to burn it, yes... Make sure that whatever did this can't spread, no... We'd need a stone box around it or something to keep everything in, in case it creates dangerous fumes, yes..."
Elroar pulls his head out of the beast's innards. "Smart move lass. I'm going to take this stuff to the Guard, and once I don't smell like rotting sea creature, start pressing into these matters. The guardsmen can handle the ebon smugglers, but this killer crystal stuff is Something for Freeswords to investigate. I have a bad feeling about it." He burys the end of his sword in the sand for a moment, sorting out the last of the goods. "Creators these things can eat."
Ever one for following orders, Hartford glances around the beach for stones to pile around the dead beast's corpse. "I'm sorry, High Lady," he says sadly, "I don't see any stones for stackin'." The big deer stands at attention in his bathing shorts, hoping that someone will give him an order he can follow soon.
"Flora would... Suggest using magic, yes? Makes a better seal, yes yes. Any beings here know earth magic?" she calls out over the group, gesturing at the beast and mumbling softly. "Someone needs to magic up a tomb, yes."
There is some small discontent over Flora's suggestion. Maybe all the iced drinks aren't enough to cool tempers.
"A whole tomb? And ruin the beach?"
"Last time something got beached, some Angus Solacious hobnob led some Freeswords and just burned the thing to ashes, then swept the lot into the sea. Don't see why a tomb is needed."
"Eh, way to ruin a good stretch of beach, and on beach day, too."
Most of the beings do depart a little sulkily. Whether that's good or bad is yet to be seen.
Elroar says "I can't say I really do at all. Are ya sure you want to be buring that thing on the beach anyway? Besides, making an entire rock tomb on the beach is a tall order lass. It might be magic, but you still need the rocks to make it with aye?" He stacks up the half digested crates, getting them ready to be turned in to the guards. "Torching it still seems like the thing to do, but maybe somewhere less populated."
Rainer finally comes forward, with finger stuck in his mouth, sucking on it, pulling it out just long enough to give it another shake in the air, and straight back in it goes. "Erf yuh wuhned t'keep hit hwy'd j'go slyfin' it hup here?" Out comes the finger for another shaking, and for the duration of which he's firing an annoyed glare in its general direction. "Y'could always, y'know, cut it into little bits, be super easy to haul it away then, right? If only there was someone on hand with a good blade or two..." He folds his arms behind his head and begins rocking forward and back on the balls of his feet, making the scabbards strapped to his hips bob and rattle.
Hartford shakes his antler-crowned head with a snort. "I don't have any magic, Lady," the deer says, "But with a rope or two, I bet we could drag this thing off the beach and push it back to the deep water. He nods at Rainer, "Or we could do as the wolf there says and cut it up first, then dump it to the fishes." The oddly colored deer waits to be told what to do, his piece already said.
"Flora isn't saying whatever killed this will kill a being... But considering the note... Flora would prefer being damned careful, yes. What if the thing that killed this gets airborne by burning it? Even if the chances are slim, does ANY being here want to risk not only their own life, but the lives of everyone present by doing it in the open air? As for the tomb... We can collapse it afterwards, catch all the fumes in a smaller box to properly dispose of, yes." The cat hisses out at the malcontent beings. "And cutting it up... Doable, but best to not touch the thing as much as possible..."
Hartford gets a short stare, a shake of the head. "It might poison more creatures... It could spread. However... Flora thinks the gathered beings should decide, yes... Do you wish to do it in the open air, provide a hazard to everyone? Do you wish to cut it up and treat it like a dangerous transport to burn elsewhere, with the difficulties that brings? Or do you sacrifice a small part of the beach for a while to make sure it all happens safely? Flora leaves the choice up to you, yes."
"Or do you wish to risk poisoning the fish in the ocean with whatever caused this?"
A quartet of beings move forwards, looking rather hesitant, but quickly setting up a large tomb of solidified sand around the thing, leaving only a small hole as per Flora's instructions. "Anyone have a good source of fire?" she asks around, before a fifth stands up and sends a good dose of fire straight through the hole.
Flora seems to be supervising, listening to the sound of the fire, and keeping a close eye on the hole to ensure that indeed, the thing is burning up properly. Meanwhile, she's calling the shots to the four beings, and they slowly make the sand tomb smaller and smaller to keep the ashes, fumes and fire inside, but nothing more than that, until after a good, long time of burning, a small, heated cube of compacted sand, ash, and captured fumes is left over, only a foot or three in any direction.
Elroar picks his sword up from the sand, putting it back in it's sheath. "Well I guess that works. Now to get rid of the sandbox." He hefts up the rest of the junk he pulled out of the beast's belly, trudged across the sands, still rather numb from the poison, but it doesn't seem to bother him that much. Then he needs to bathe something fierce. Dead stuff bile does not smell good when left to rot. Especially when left to rot.
"Yow, hey, I'm standin' here!" Rainer picks up his foot and hops aside as the ground begins to rise to form the sethapotatomussuses container, huffing indignantly. Having little else to contribute to the disposal of the poor, adorable, toxic thing, he watches the disposal proceed a while before taking note of Elroar gathering up the contents of the thing's belly and comes traipsing over to assist. "Hey, lemmeh guh yuh buh... fhhbbhgh..." Slowing to a halt, his brows knit in concern as he stands there staring crosseyed down his muzzle at his tongue, hanging limp from his agape maw, jaw slacked. It turns out trying to remove a coating of Sand Shuckle poison with your own saliva is not such a recommendable procedure.
It seems like the worst of the worst is over. It's a bit sad, watching the poor creature's remains cremated like that, but it seems to be over. Most of the beachgoers still give the smouldering mess a wide berth, though, and the contents of the beast's stomach are dealt with in their own fashion.
There still needs to be a lot of follow-up done, especially on the strange flasks found, but perhaps it can wait until everyone is changed out of their swimwear.
