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Stomach Pangs

Discussion in 'Pandora, Year 1 - 7' started by Geralt of Rivia, Jul 7, 2018.

  1. Geralt of Rivia

    Geralt of Rivia The Witcher

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    June 7th

    Geralt stopped stabbing the knife in when the Zeugl finally stopped making it's disgusting slobbering bellows and it's tentacles went limp in the scum covered pool it had taken residence in. It had had almost eaten Roach, pulling on the horse's gear with it's long pink appendages and dragging it kicking and mewling into the muck to swallow. Geralt had moved faster and struck out with his silver blade, lodging it into the beasts blunt toothed maw. The Zeugl let out a mighty roar but was able to swallow the blade and copious amounts of it's own foul smelling blood in the process. Geralt gagged at the stench but went for his boot knife, stabbing at the things fleshy head to pierce the brain. Usually he would have dropped a grapeshot bomb down it's throat and finished it off but since his sword was still inside it's belly he knew he couldn't risk bowing it to pieces as well. With the beast finally dead Geralt spent two hours using Roach to tow it's body out of the water enough to get at it's guts. He was not going to enjoy this, especially not with his enhanced senses, Zeugl ate anything they could get their hands on, anything. Including inedible objects like his sword. Geralt pulled out his gutting knife and slashed open the wet flesh of the beast and was instantly recoiling from the foulest stench that he'd ever had to deal with. Piles of partially digested bits of offal, dirt, pond scum, human remains, and non human remains, and what he realized was half of another horse. Geralt felt bile in his throat but forced it back down, he'd drank some nasty potions in his time but this was not at all similar.

    The Witcher began to root around, by his estimate and the age marking on the Zeugl it had been there for a year and with their eating habits that meant it had possible six hundred pounds of food inside of it, especially with how long it took for it's species to digest food. Roach snorted and stamped, moving upwind of the stench, Geralt simply winced and closed his eyes, digging into the stomach muck of the beast with a groan of displeasure.
     
  2. Mordred

    Mordred BBC Merlin

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    It was the smell that first got his attention, carried on the wind and making his nose wrinkle in disgust as it drifted past. Though unpleasant it still made Mordred curious - mostly about what could possibly smell that bad way out here, and before he'd made a conscious decision to follow the smell to its source he began drifting in that direction, slinging his satchel of herbs over his shoulder. Collecting plants could wait.

    The smell was relatively easy to follow, at least at first, given it involved little more than following the wind, but before long it seemed to be all around him. He almost regretted his choice, but having come this far already it seemed a waste to turn around now. It was during his debate with himself over the merits of turning back that he hit a shoreline, and on that shoreline lay what he could only assume was the source of the stench - a creature like nothing Mordred had ever seen before and a man who appeared to be...mutilating it.

    Though somewhat more comfortable defending himself with magic these days Mordred still wore his sword at his hip when he ventured into the wilderness, a habit that had proven useful on more than one occasion given the wide variety of beasts that seemed to appear out of nowhere in Pandora. He gripped the hilt with one hand - not intending to draw it, but there was something reassuring about the action - and pressed the sleeve of his other arm over his nose and mouth as he cautiously approached the man. He assumed he'd killed this creature, but that didn't necessarily mean he was friendly. "What is that thing?"
     
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  3. Geralt of Rivia

    Geralt of Rivia The Witcher

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    Geralt looked up from his disgusting work and grimaced shaking off some of the creatures entrails that coated his hands. “It’s called a Zeugl. It’s a big mouth with tentacles that eats anything it can grab, ate my sword so now I’m looking for it.” Geralt stood up and stepped back to let more of its stomach contents to pour outwards, some human skeletons, still red from the digestive process. “It’s been busy, probably two months old at least. Swords gotta be at the top of its stomach, last thing it ate before I killed it.” Geralt looked over at the man and motioned for him to stand back as he pulled out more of its disgusting stomach contents, finally he felt the handle of his weapon.

    He tugged his sword free and swept away some of the muck, grabbing up a cleaning kit and sharpening tool. He got to work getting the shit off of his sword. “It’s dangerous, can move pretty fast when it see’s food.”
     
  4. Mordred

    Mordred BBC Merlin

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    Watching the man shake viscera off his hands Mordred found himself very glad he'd chosen to stay a respectful distance from the creature. He was fairly certain that smell would never come out if it got on his clothes. He might have to burn them just to be safe. He'd never heard of a zeugl before but in his time in Pandora he'd learned to accept new things without a fuss, or mostly without a fuss, and whether or not it was actually magical he chose to lump it under that heading in his mind. It certainly fit as well as anything else.

    He also assumed that the zeugl came from this man's world given his casual air in dealing with it, and after he'd fished out his sword Mordred edged in for a closer look, though his face remained wrinkled in disgust. "You killed it to get your sword back? I'd have just gotten a new sword." Surely that smell would linger for days, no matter how long he spent polishing it. Still, even cut open as it was the creature look fearsome, and Mordred was impressed that any man could kill something of it's ilk. "You must be a skilled warrior to kill such a thing on your own."

     
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  5. Geralt of Rivia

    Geralt of Rivia The Witcher

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    "This sword is specially made for the type of hunter I am, meteorite steel with silver edges, and it'd cost more to get the runes etched into it again." Geralt flipped the sword around, expertly catching the blade by his fingers on the flat of the silver strip of steel. He ran his fingers over the runes, producing a purple light from them from an inch below the tip and all the way down from a half inch from the crossguard and hilt. He dug the tip of the blade into the dirt and rubbed some of the cloves and flowers against the blade to work out the smell bit by bit, he could smell it starting to fade, he pulled out his whet stone and started to work on sharpening the edges to cancel out any dulling the acids inside the beasts stomach had caused. A witcher's swords were part of them, having one stolen was the biggest embarrassment they could endure, well not really but it was pretty high up there. Most of their swords were custom made, by the Witcher themselves just for the purpose of hunting and killing monsters. Most thought the steel was for humans and the silver was for monsters. While steel had to be used for humans often it as really because some monsters didn't cut with silver as easily. But still Geralt had more often than not drawn his steel to fight humans.

    Geralt looked up at the man and smirked. "I'm a Witcher, we're made to fight things like this, a Zeugl is one of the rarer things we have to hunt, most of the time they're stumbled upon by accident"
     
  6. Mordred

    Mordred BBC Merlin

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    "A magical sword?" The words were startled out of him more than deliberately produced, as the light shining from the etchings drew his attention away from the creature. Weapons could be enchanted of course - most things could - but he'd never seen one himself before, let alone the strange markings that lit up at the man's touch. For a moment he swayed forward as if ready to reach out and touch it himself, but then thought better of it, settling his weight back on his heels with only a faint flush in his cheeks to mark his impulse. Fascinating or not the lengths he'd gone to to retrieve it gave Mordred the impression that he probably wouldn't like someone else handling it.

    "Where I'm from knights are the ones who fight creatures like that, although," he conceded with a slightly rueful look at the zeugl, "we don't actually have any quite like zeugls. What do the runes do, exactly, if I may ask?" Having the freedom to ask questions about magic was something Mordred took full advantage of these days, even from a stranger.

     
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