RVA: The Red Vixen at Sea, Part Twelve

[jeriendhal]

With a mutual yelp of surprise, they both hopped back away from the… Yes indeed, it was a tentacle, rising up out of the sand to form a curved, rubbery bar about a meter in the air in front of them, one end still leading into the ocean, the other into the trees, with lots of noisy rustling as it pushed aside more sand, leaves and fallen branches.

Melanie was the first to act, her fatigue suddenly banished in sheer terror. Grabbing Rolas by the wrist, she started dragging him into the trees, well clear of the tentacle, as the sound of something crashing through the undergrowth reached their ears. She dropped flat to the ground, Rolas beside her, as a figure emerged.



It was a male wazagan, a blue skinned, vaguely draconic looking humanoid, about two meters tall, long tail dragging along the sand, bleached matted and unkempt head fur trailing down its naked form almost to its ankles. To Melanie’s eyes it looked sickly, its pattern of fine scales flaking away from malnutrition, ribs and joints pressing out from its skin. It looked at the undulating tentacle with a blank, unblinking expression, head slowly turning from left to right as it examined the ground.

We forgot to brush away our pawprints in the sand, she realized suddenly. She squeezed Rolas’ arm, and he looked at where the wazagan’s attention was drawn, apparently deducing her concern.

Back, he mouthed, twitching his ears to indicate they should move deeper into the trees. She nodded in understanding, sliding slowly backwards on her belly, praying the sound of their movement would be covered by the roaring surf.

It was only when the wazagan turned, following the trail of their footprints, when she spotted the second tentacle it trailed, hidden partly before by its long headfur and thick tail. It was narrower than the one they’d found buried in the beach, perhaps only two centimeters in length, and seemed to be attached directly to the draconic alien’s spine, running from the base of its head all the way to the base of its tail, skin and scales along where the  tentacle sealed itself bursting out in painful looking sores. Now that she saw it, Melanie could see it ran back into the trees, in the same general direction as the thicker beach tentacle. In the Mother Goddess’ name what is that?

Her ears swiveled as she heard the sounds of more figures emerging from the woods, two humans and the kinis they had suspected had helped push their boat out to sea. Like the wazagan, all three of the newcomers were naked, had long grey tentacles attached to their spines, and their bodies looked emaciated and ill-used. The kinis in particular was a horror, its normally thick white and grey pelt seemingly torn out from the roots in great clumps, leaving it mottled with scars between the remaining patches.

The wazagan opened its mouth, letting out a deep, scratchy croak. The others sound joined it, taking deep breaths, wheezing and croaking, as if using muscles that had long since atrophied. Then the ruff of Melanie’s neck rose in fear as they began to speak.

“WE knOW yOu ARe thEre,” they spoke in unison, an unholy chorus of the damned. “yOU WIll  surrreNDER. yOU wiLL BE our NeW tOOls. wE neED New haNDS NEw boDIES. it WILL not HURT.”

TBC

Comments

[shadur.livejournal.com]

Melanie: ... Note to self. Once we manage to contact civilization, request saturation bombardment of entire island. Thermite charges if Salli balks at nuclear devices.

[jeriendhal.livejournal.com]

Now, now. It's not the island's fault. :)

[shadur.livejournal.com]

It's the only way to be sure.