Hey hey, it's Saturday!
And you know what that means, dontcha?
Why, its everybody's favorite Mudokon, Dante!
Let's see what that rascal gets himself into today!
Chapter 20
Okay, so I was standing around here, looking really foolish and out of place in a slig’s camp. I didn’t really want to know what they were doing all the way out here, but I figured I would probably end up finding it out, anyways.
I quickly looked around, taking in my surroundings. There were lots of pointed tents all out and about in what seemed to be a complete lack of a pattern. The tents looked to be made out of some kind of animal skin—probably paramite, perhaps scrab. A few campfires burned here and there, tended by sligs (which happened to be the only sligs in sight). They had meat roasting on sticks over the fire, and the smells that wafted my way were heavenly.
While I was busy admiring the culinary art of the sligs, I nearly didn’t notice that there were about seven slogs inching towards me, growling.
It was about then that I realized that this slig camp was from Tastee Treets, and it was out here to find me.
Alright.
I turned and ran. The slogs gave chase.
Friends, I wish that there was more to it than this, that I could make the story more dynamic. But, alas, it was as simple as I ran, they chased. At some point, I believe a slig noticed that I was loose, and signaled to his companions.
I was running when an idea
[VISION]
A lanky blue mudokon was darting along a dim, narrow hall in a large, metal room. Several slogs were on his trail. As he tore pat a sleeping slig, it stumbled to its “feet” and shouted “Freeze!” before giving chase. Eventually, the mudokon sees that there is an outcropping overhead, and he jumps for it, and pulls himself up and out of harms way. The slog leaps after him, but can’t reach. The slig isn’t quite sure what happened, or where the mudokon was. Meanwhile, the mudokon laughed to himself, turned, and walked away.
[/VISION]
suddenly occurred to me. I had to find a ledge or something that I could climb up on that the slog couldn’t climb and where the slig couldn’t shoot at me. Lucky for me that a slig can’t shoot and run at the same time.
I kept moving, keeping my eyes open for any possible escape routes. I passed a few ledges, but they looked crumbly and would probably be unreliable if I tried to climb them. But my patience was rewarded, and I saw a little indent in the side of the sloping edge of the valley. The only question was whether or not I could jump that high.
Well, it was do or die.
I ran for it, and when I was about three feet away I leapt up and raised my arms my momentum carried me forward and I was doing it by Odd I would make it and my fingers clawed into the rocks overhead and I slammed face-first into the wall. I hung there, stunned for a few seconds. The sound of slogs growling and barking got me moving, and I struggled to pull myself up and into the little crevice. I had made it out with literally inches behind my heels and the nearest slog’s muzzle. I could feel it breathing on my feet, eager to tear the flesh out of my legs.
I shuddered and tried not to picture that (and failed).
On my feet now, I took a closer look at my little sanctuary. It was a good five feet wide and seven feet high, and it wasn’t just a little indent in the wall.
It was a cave.
About now the (wheezing and out of breath) slig caught up, and started shooting. Naturally, I retreated into the depths of the cave, and was thankful to be out of the range of his gunfire.
Okay, so I had to think. What could I do to get out of here alive? I mean, I couldn’t very well possess that slig, since Orion never bothered to teach me how to do it. But if I decided that a paramite or scrab should come out of the cave, I would have been shot, anyways.
So, let’s go spelunking, eh?
I made my way through the dank cavern, keeping a hand on the wall all along. At least that way I wouldn’t double back, in case I was in a maze or something.
The only light in the cave came from behind me, at the entrance. And after about four minutes of walking, it was starting to fade. I got to a point where I was hardly able to see the hand in my face if I was looking for it. I was thinking about asking Patch for a paramite morph when I realized that I hadn’t even gotten to know the mudokon that had helped me with the scrab power.
I suddenly and completely forgot everything else I was doing, sat down, and thought, ‹Hey, where’s that mudokon that saved my life in the scrab fight?›
There was a brief silence, in which I felt as though someone was utterly confused by what I had said, and then I heard that familiar, high-pitched voice in my head. ‹Is that Mister Dante? Am I going crazy? Maybe he’s haunting me in my head!›
It was obvious he was thinking to himself, and I felt relieved. Maybe he wasn’t going to hold it against me for forgetting about him after all.
‹Yes, it’s me,› I told him, ‹and I’m sorry for not getting in touch sooner. It sort of slipped my mind, what with turning into a scrab and all.›
He was astounded, and suddenly wanted to know about everything, so I retold my tale. He listened (or so it seemed; I just had this feeling in my gut) with fierce intensity, paying no attention to anyone around him. It was like telling a story to a little kid, I would reflect much, much later.
At last, I ended my story, and managed to squeeze a name out of him. He said his name was Nine, and he was thrilled to be able to say that he helped out Mister Dante and helped save his life, never mind that he had caught a cold from his brief moment in the rainstorm. I was starting to like this guy. He might not have been very bright, but he was shaping up to be a good friend. At least Patch hadn’t sent some jerk through.
At last I remembered that I had exploring to do, and said with real regret that I had to get going, and Nine more than sympathized; he said he was anxious to hear more stories about what kinds of adventures I had. We said our good-bys and good lucks, and I stood again and moved on down the hall.
About ten feet down I saw a torch. I was unimportantly sticking out of the rock wall, lighting the trail, and I knew that it meant something was living back here. Something at least quasi-intelligent.
Not expecting any sligs to have gotten up here—they can’t climb in those ridiculous Pants, of course—I continued, expecting to find some mudokon refugees camping out, or trying to plan a raid against the slig camp.
I stepped into a chamber that seemed to be special. I mean, it could’ve been the place where all life on Oddworld originated, for all I knew right then, because there were only a few things I saw then that were important.
There were a dozen sligs standing around when I walked in. They were all fully armed and looking pretty bored. When they heard me walk in, they turned and raised their weapons.
I looked around and was terrified. It seemed that my brain couldn’t decide on whether to run, scream, fight, or cry. But finally it made a decision.
Making a mental note to clean my loincloth later (if I lived), I raised my hands into the air, in a gesture of surrender.
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