[ooc: Eef, I don't normally do RPG very well... Oh well, I'll have a go, anyway...
]
The three Dirgescreamers wailed incoherently and hauled on their leads; they were ugly beasts, yet another cross-bred product of Vykkers labs, a fast, powerful hybrid of scrab and slog, totally blind yet with phenomenal noses and hearing, produced specially to hunt down that… that…
spider creature – nothing else was stupid enough to want to – and near on uncontrollable. If it weren’t for the neural stunners hardwired into their central nervous systems they’d already have eaten the slig they were currently dragging down the corridor and gone on to tear up a couple of muds for dessert…
Skar – real name Skerith, but corrupted to what it was now long ago because of the old wounds mottling his wiry frame – hated his job with an unbridled passion. He hated his job, hated his boss, hated the damned creatures dragging him down the corridor, hated the stupid thing he was hunting, hated the vykkers, hated these smelly, dank corridors, hated his whole Odd-damned life! He hated it and wanted out; he’d run if he thought he could get away, but his Bosses had promised in no uncertain terms they’d hunt him down with these accursed screamers, and, provided he survived, get Vykkers to implant a neural stunner in the back of
his brain to ensure he didn’t try it again. Frack, they’d implied he’d get one as a punishment if he didn’t catch or kill that spider thing… He didn’t know how they worked, but he knew enough to fear them – he’d been a guard when they’d tested the devices on the more unruly sligs. To see even the hardest-nosed sligs broken down to a sobbing, pleading bundle on the cold stone floor of the labs had shaken him to the core, and their screams had given him nightmares for weeks. And once they were in, the stunners never came out again; not without killing or severely crippling their host, at any rate…
Why the Frack do Vykkers insist on creating all these Odd-damned cross-bred abominations, anyway?, he wondered, absently, jerking back on the lead as the front Screamer barged its neighbour and snarled at it. They were all dangerous, uncontrollable and cantankerous at best and downright psychotic killers at worst – and Screamers spent more time arguing amongst themselves than they ever spent tracking…
He snarled as the Screamers unexpectedly lunged at a noise, jerking his already-tired arms and nearly tearing the left one clean out of its socket. He jolted savagely on the leads and cursed quietly, teeth gritted.
Then Skar looked up, and saw – there was a mud up ahead; a shivering, pathetic little bundle by the wall. He gave it a speculative look – maybe it’d have seen his quarry? – and paced closer, straining to keep the Screamers from getting free and vanishing off down the scent path. As he got closer, he could see the mud’s nerves looked shot to pieces, so he’d have to treat it with a
little caution at least – which was a pain, as he was in a bloody Oddawful mood already, didn’t want to have to mollycoddle muds for a bit of information…
The smallest Screamer – the runt of the litter – gave the mud a cursory sniff and decided it wasn’t interested. The other two were squabbling again; he scowled, lightly touched the pad on his wrist-guard and gave the bickering creatures a mild shock. They quietened down quickly after that.
Skar turned his attention to the mud. “Yer seen a slig come this way?” he asked, roughly. “Big fat one, all spines. Seen ‘im?”
[ooc: gnar. That was... er.. fun...? Hm. I know continuity is severely lacking, and if it's crap I'll delete it - ditto for if it makes bugger all sense...
]
[ May 04, 2001: Message edited by: Teal ]