02-23-2018, 02:10 AM
Nausea.
Queasiness.
Biliousness.
These were all words that did not cross China's mind as the world vanished and reappeared before his eyes with each sickening lurch. These words did not occur to him not because they did not apply most aptly to his situation, but rather simply due to the fact that the Ceramic Beast was not exactly what one might call the most erudite of fellows. On the contrary, in fact; even the word 'sick' was a stranger to his mind, under normal circumstances... though he had at least heard it used by others on occasion, and so knew enough to recognise the malady now plaguing him.
Being able to digest any organic matter nigh-instantaneously had left the golem never having once experienced illness; no matter how small the bacteria or virus, it had always been consumed, just like everything else, which meant that to him this horrid, roiling, unsettled sensation in his gut was something entirely new. Something he had never felt before... and something he never wanted to experience again for as long as he lived.
It was only with the greatest effort of will that China managed to keep from digging his claws deep into the flesh of the master's friend in an attempt at holding himself steady as reality folded in upon itself around them.
He jammed his mouth shut, covering the hovering eyeball within, though the lack of sight made him feel little better, and as if that lurching sensation – like a vast, empty, weightless gulf had opened up all around them for just the tiniest split second, before normality returned – alone wasn't bad enough, with each new torment he found that more and more vigour was leeched from his body. He could feel the noticeable, yet inexplicable drop in stamina that came with each convulsion.
To refer to his current state of mind as 'terrified' would have been an enormous understatement, somewhat akin to calling an ocean 'pretty deep' or the magma chamber of an active volcano 'kinda hot'. China was more petrified than he had ever been in his life, and more confused as well.
He had experienced a great many things in the past which comprehension of had eluded his mind, but this was something on a whole other scale entirely; not even the Archmage, his great creator and his first master, had ever done anything such as this. What he felt now wasn't the same at all as a simple, ordinary, everyday fear of death... no, this was much, much worse; for all he knew, the world might well simply get tired of disappearing and changing and coming back, and instead simply settle for vanishing and remaining vanished. What would he do then? Lost in a void more infinite that his own innards, with no food but for a lean and scrawny swordsman? He would be dead within the week, he was sure.
Or he would have been, at least, had he actually known how long a week was.
All the while, as this horror unfolded (and refolded and twisted and squirmed) around him, China babbled incoherently. There was no noise that came with each of the sudden shifts, so even his low voice was easily detectable... though not necessarily decipherable. As shaken as he was, the Ceramic Beast could barely string together a coherent word, much less a sentence. The one clear thing he did say, repeatedly and frequently, was, “Master!”
He wailed – or at least, came as close as his soft whispers ever could to being called 'wailing' – for her, knowing that somehow, in some way, if anyone could restore this cursed place to any sort of normal, rational state, it would surely we her; the Lady of Lights, the Inferno Infernal, the Star-Spangled Sorceress... surely, if anyone in this strange- no, this freakish land, could keep him safe, it would be her. He could do nothing but cling as tightly to Dane as possible without eviscerating him – lest the master see what he had done and simply decide to leave him to his miserable fate – and wait for her to show up.
At last, though – at long, long last – reality roughly reasserted itself with a whooshing of air and a sudden jolt, as if they had just fallen from some height and the master's friend had absorbed the impact by landing on his feet. China felt himself being dropped, then, but with hardly the energy or inclination to even open his maw to see what was going on, much less the capacity to do anything about it, he simply fell limply to the ground.
There was a slight crashing noised as he struck the hard, harsh stones of the paved alleyway, and what remained of his face caved in, scattering shards of broken carapace and little, blue, ceramic teeth all around. The cracks all across his chest and stomach had spread as well, though as of yet, no large shards had broken off down there. It was a telling mark of his exhaustion that China didn't even worry about how he was supposed to eat without teeth.
Though that may also have been partly to do with the fact that his stomach still felt as though it were auditioning for the role of a circus gymnast, flipping and rolling around madly inside of him, somehow, despite the fact that his innards were nothing more than a dark void.
Finding the strength from somewhere to push himself up onto all fours, he began retching quietly. His body digested its sustenance far more rapidly than any two-legs' digestive system could ever hope to, though, and so despite having eaten just a minute or so ago – though it felt like a age past to the nauseous golem – there was nothing left to come back up.
Barely a moment after he had begun this, he was moving once again, his hands, feet and legs producing an awful screeching noise, like chalk on slate, as he was grabbed by one upper arm and dragged out of the narrow alleyway and into a larger street. With so much of his face obliterated now, little was hidden from the gaze of his solitary ocular globe... or it wouldn't have been, rather, had his head not been lolling weakly, his eye pointed straight down, dully observing the stones that paved the street as his limp form was hauled along by Dane, still convulsing occasionally as his gut tried and failed to eject his last meal.
When the fast person at last came to a stop and let him go, the Ceramic Beast simply slipped back to the ground, though this time he found himself with his head oriented at a slight angle, rather than entirely face-down. Some small amount of light found his pupil, and that great, staring, lacquered eyeball turned to regard the vista before him; a wide pair of wooden gates, swung wide to reveal a well trodden mud and dirt path, leading off between two fenced-in fields. Beyond that, there were rolling hills in the distance, out beyond the farmlands that surrounded the city; with no fog or rain to blot out the landscape, the Moors were clearly visible, even with such an overcast sky.
By the side of each gate stood a man armed with a steel-tipped wooden spear; a common two-legs weapon that the golem remembered from his own world. They both were glaring at the swordsman and China with expressions of utmost distrust... as though they for some reason regarded it as rather unusual for a man to come strolling almost casually out of an alley, dragging a semi-conscious Beast along at his side. It wasn't too long before they opted to leave their posts to cross the short distance from the gate to where Dane stood.
“Apologies, sir,” said one food in a voice not remotely apologetic; it straddled the line between boredom and annoyance, “but we don't generally permit monster hunting within city limits. We get enough of the fucking things sneaking in here of their own accord, without amateur adventurers deciding it'd be fun to chase them through the streets. If you're looking to collect a bounty, post a picture of your catch on the Dataverse to prove you got it, like everyone sane does... don't go hauling around dead or dying creatures everywhere you go.”
The speaker had ginger hair and several days worth of beard growth. Its iron helmet and leather armour alike were scuffed and worn with use, yet seemed thick and sturdy... so far as China could tell, at least... not that he had ever been all that interested in the silly garments that these sorts of foods loved to clothe themselves in.
“A bounty? Nah.” Dane responded casually, his voice sounding a tad tired, though otherwise seeming no worse for wear, despite the hell that they had just gone through. The golem found himself thinking of his master's friend in a whole new light; this wasn't simply a food that had elevated itself to personhood through strength and speed and the favour of a higher being... no, Dane was... was... a monster. It was the only word that China could use which seemed in any way an adequate descriptor; his ability to endure such madness and still stand was amazing enough, but to seem not even the slightest bit shaken by the horrors they had both gone through spoke volumes about his mental state, “This guy is a friend of mine, he's just... had a few too many drinks, that's all.”
The guardsmen stared for several silent seconds at the Ceramic Beast's now-unmoving and much abused body.
Neither reacted when China's eye flicked up suddenly, focusing first upon one, and then the other.
“Riiiight. This thing was drinking.” the ginger man drawled. The doubt in his voice hardly hidden... though he didn't push the subject further. China hadn't even been in this strange, new land for a day yet, and already he knew that there were all sorts of weird and exotic foods and things roaming the place. He doubted it would ever be wise to dismiss anything out of hand around here, no matter how absurd it may seem.
“Say,” Dane continued amiably, “while we're on the subject of monster hunting, do either of you recognise this thing?”
China twisted his head around to look up at the swordsman, who seemed to be holding out a small object towards the two foods, who peered at it intently, their eyes narrowed, for a few moments.
“What in the everloving fuck is this shit supposed to be? Did you draw this crap? If so, I wouldn't recommend giving up the day job, mate.” the other of the foods asked. This one had slightly higher quality gear, if China's lone eye was any judge, and some sort of badge pinned to its chest that may have signified a rank... or may have been nothing more than a meaningless affectation, for all the golem knew. Despite this, its garments were just as weathered as its comrade's, and it bore a scar that trailed from the bottom of its nose down across its lips, just left of centre, all the way to its chin. Its hair was black as jet and its upper lip was moustached.
“No, of course I didn't. It was drawn by a kid... she didn't tell me what this thing was actually called, though, just that it was big and scary.”
The gate guards looked at one another exasperatedly. The dark-haired man sighed and muttered something that might have been 'tourists' under his breath before responding, “Look, you're not from around here, I get it... but 'big and scary' could describe practically anything out there on the Moors, and this piece of crap ain't gonna help you identify shit.”
His partner nodded and voiced his agreement. Dane said a few more words to them, one said something else, Dane gave his response... the golem had ceased to pay attention. He had noticed that the sickening sensation in his stomach was subsiding slowly, and so sought once again to stand.
He managed to eventually get himself up onto all sixes, with only another few convulsions ravaging his body as his movements caused his stomach to swirl some more. Limbs shaking, tails hanging limply behind him, his vision dim around the edges, the Ceramic Beast couldn't be sure how long had actually passed since he began his struggle to get up, but he now noticed that the gate guards had gone back to their posts, whilst Dane simply stood and waited once again, looking back into the city.
Just as he was beginning to feel a little spark of curiosity lighting up the back of his mind, as he began to wonder what it was that the swordsman was waiting and looking for, he heard her voice.
“Hey, Dane, look! I texted-”
His master drew up short the moment she noticed China's current state. No sooner had he spotted her than his claws were scrabbling madly at the paving stones as he rushed clumsily towards Clownpiece like a faithful hound, whimpering softly as he did.
“Maaaaaster!” he wailed as loudly as his breathy, whispering voice could manage, and the moment he reached her his arms were thrown around her, bearing her down to the ground. He paid not the slightest heed to the others around her, “Please-please not leave again! Me-me so scared-frightened! Please! Me beg-beg! So much-much nasty!”
His words trailed off into a series of choked sobbing noises, though with his body being unable to produce moisture, he had no tears to accompany them. He held her tightly, yet was still careful as could be not to break her, and made extra sure not to risk severing so much as a single strand of her hair with any stray talon or sharp edge of his broken body.
“What the hell did you do?” the Hell Fairy demanded incredulously, wrapping her arms comfortingly around China as she looked past him at the swordsman, who was approaching the group at a more steady pace than had their golem.
Queasiness.
Biliousness.
These were all words that did not cross China's mind as the world vanished and reappeared before his eyes with each sickening lurch. These words did not occur to him not because they did not apply most aptly to his situation, but rather simply due to the fact that the Ceramic Beast was not exactly what one might call the most erudite of fellows. On the contrary, in fact; even the word 'sick' was a stranger to his mind, under normal circumstances... though he had at least heard it used by others on occasion, and so knew enough to recognise the malady now plaguing him.
Being able to digest any organic matter nigh-instantaneously had left the golem never having once experienced illness; no matter how small the bacteria or virus, it had always been consumed, just like everything else, which meant that to him this horrid, roiling, unsettled sensation in his gut was something entirely new. Something he had never felt before... and something he never wanted to experience again for as long as he lived.
It was only with the greatest effort of will that China managed to keep from digging his claws deep into the flesh of the master's friend in an attempt at holding himself steady as reality folded in upon itself around them.
He jammed his mouth shut, covering the hovering eyeball within, though the lack of sight made him feel little better, and as if that lurching sensation – like a vast, empty, weightless gulf had opened up all around them for just the tiniest split second, before normality returned – alone wasn't bad enough, with each new torment he found that more and more vigour was leeched from his body. He could feel the noticeable, yet inexplicable drop in stamina that came with each convulsion.
To refer to his current state of mind as 'terrified' would have been an enormous understatement, somewhat akin to calling an ocean 'pretty deep' or the magma chamber of an active volcano 'kinda hot'. China was more petrified than he had ever been in his life, and more confused as well.
He had experienced a great many things in the past which comprehension of had eluded his mind, but this was something on a whole other scale entirely; not even the Archmage, his great creator and his first master, had ever done anything such as this. What he felt now wasn't the same at all as a simple, ordinary, everyday fear of death... no, this was much, much worse; for all he knew, the world might well simply get tired of disappearing and changing and coming back, and instead simply settle for vanishing and remaining vanished. What would he do then? Lost in a void more infinite that his own innards, with no food but for a lean and scrawny swordsman? He would be dead within the week, he was sure.
Or he would have been, at least, had he actually known how long a week was.
All the while, as this horror unfolded (and refolded and twisted and squirmed) around him, China babbled incoherently. There was no noise that came with each of the sudden shifts, so even his low voice was easily detectable... though not necessarily decipherable. As shaken as he was, the Ceramic Beast could barely string together a coherent word, much less a sentence. The one clear thing he did say, repeatedly and frequently, was, “Master!”
He wailed – or at least, came as close as his soft whispers ever could to being called 'wailing' – for her, knowing that somehow, in some way, if anyone could restore this cursed place to any sort of normal, rational state, it would surely we her; the Lady of Lights, the Inferno Infernal, the Star-Spangled Sorceress... surely, if anyone in this strange- no, this freakish land, could keep him safe, it would be her. He could do nothing but cling as tightly to Dane as possible without eviscerating him – lest the master see what he had done and simply decide to leave him to his miserable fate – and wait for her to show up.
At last, though – at long, long last – reality roughly reasserted itself with a whooshing of air and a sudden jolt, as if they had just fallen from some height and the master's friend had absorbed the impact by landing on his feet. China felt himself being dropped, then, but with hardly the energy or inclination to even open his maw to see what was going on, much less the capacity to do anything about it, he simply fell limply to the ground.
There was a slight crashing noised as he struck the hard, harsh stones of the paved alleyway, and what remained of his face caved in, scattering shards of broken carapace and little, blue, ceramic teeth all around. The cracks all across his chest and stomach had spread as well, though as of yet, no large shards had broken off down there. It was a telling mark of his exhaustion that China didn't even worry about how he was supposed to eat without teeth.
Though that may also have been partly to do with the fact that his stomach still felt as though it were auditioning for the role of a circus gymnast, flipping and rolling around madly inside of him, somehow, despite the fact that his innards were nothing more than a dark void.
Finding the strength from somewhere to push himself up onto all fours, he began retching quietly. His body digested its sustenance far more rapidly than any two-legs' digestive system could ever hope to, though, and so despite having eaten just a minute or so ago – though it felt like a age past to the nauseous golem – there was nothing left to come back up.
Barely a moment after he had begun this, he was moving once again, his hands, feet and legs producing an awful screeching noise, like chalk on slate, as he was grabbed by one upper arm and dragged out of the narrow alleyway and into a larger street. With so much of his face obliterated now, little was hidden from the gaze of his solitary ocular globe... or it wouldn't have been, rather, had his head not been lolling weakly, his eye pointed straight down, dully observing the stones that paved the street as his limp form was hauled along by Dane, still convulsing occasionally as his gut tried and failed to eject his last meal.
When the fast person at last came to a stop and let him go, the Ceramic Beast simply slipped back to the ground, though this time he found himself with his head oriented at a slight angle, rather than entirely face-down. Some small amount of light found his pupil, and that great, staring, lacquered eyeball turned to regard the vista before him; a wide pair of wooden gates, swung wide to reveal a well trodden mud and dirt path, leading off between two fenced-in fields. Beyond that, there were rolling hills in the distance, out beyond the farmlands that surrounded the city; with no fog or rain to blot out the landscape, the Moors were clearly visible, even with such an overcast sky.
By the side of each gate stood a man armed with a steel-tipped wooden spear; a common two-legs weapon that the golem remembered from his own world. They both were glaring at the swordsman and China with expressions of utmost distrust... as though they for some reason regarded it as rather unusual for a man to come strolling almost casually out of an alley, dragging a semi-conscious Beast along at his side. It wasn't too long before they opted to leave their posts to cross the short distance from the gate to where Dane stood.
“Apologies, sir,” said one food in a voice not remotely apologetic; it straddled the line between boredom and annoyance, “but we don't generally permit monster hunting within city limits. We get enough of the fucking things sneaking in here of their own accord, without amateur adventurers deciding it'd be fun to chase them through the streets. If you're looking to collect a bounty, post a picture of your catch on the Dataverse to prove you got it, like everyone sane does... don't go hauling around dead or dying creatures everywhere you go.”
The speaker had ginger hair and several days worth of beard growth. Its iron helmet and leather armour alike were scuffed and worn with use, yet seemed thick and sturdy... so far as China could tell, at least... not that he had ever been all that interested in the silly garments that these sorts of foods loved to clothe themselves in.
“A bounty? Nah.” Dane responded casually, his voice sounding a tad tired, though otherwise seeming no worse for wear, despite the hell that they had just gone through. The golem found himself thinking of his master's friend in a whole new light; this wasn't simply a food that had elevated itself to personhood through strength and speed and the favour of a higher being... no, Dane was... was... a monster. It was the only word that China could use which seemed in any way an adequate descriptor; his ability to endure such madness and still stand was amazing enough, but to seem not even the slightest bit shaken by the horrors they had both gone through spoke volumes about his mental state, “This guy is a friend of mine, he's just... had a few too many drinks, that's all.”
The guardsmen stared for several silent seconds at the Ceramic Beast's now-unmoving and much abused body.
Neither reacted when China's eye flicked up suddenly, focusing first upon one, and then the other.
“Riiiight. This thing was drinking.” the ginger man drawled. The doubt in his voice hardly hidden... though he didn't push the subject further. China hadn't even been in this strange, new land for a day yet, and already he knew that there were all sorts of weird and exotic foods and things roaming the place. He doubted it would ever be wise to dismiss anything out of hand around here, no matter how absurd it may seem.
“Say,” Dane continued amiably, “while we're on the subject of monster hunting, do either of you recognise this thing?”
China twisted his head around to look up at the swordsman, who seemed to be holding out a small object towards the two foods, who peered at it intently, their eyes narrowed, for a few moments.
“What in the everloving fuck is this shit supposed to be? Did you draw this crap? If so, I wouldn't recommend giving up the day job, mate.” the other of the foods asked. This one had slightly higher quality gear, if China's lone eye was any judge, and some sort of badge pinned to its chest that may have signified a rank... or may have been nothing more than a meaningless affectation, for all the golem knew. Despite this, its garments were just as weathered as its comrade's, and it bore a scar that trailed from the bottom of its nose down across its lips, just left of centre, all the way to its chin. Its hair was black as jet and its upper lip was moustached.
“No, of course I didn't. It was drawn by a kid... she didn't tell me what this thing was actually called, though, just that it was big and scary.”
The gate guards looked at one another exasperatedly. The dark-haired man sighed and muttered something that might have been 'tourists' under his breath before responding, “Look, you're not from around here, I get it... but 'big and scary' could describe practically anything out there on the Moors, and this piece of crap ain't gonna help you identify shit.”
His partner nodded and voiced his agreement. Dane said a few more words to them, one said something else, Dane gave his response... the golem had ceased to pay attention. He had noticed that the sickening sensation in his stomach was subsiding slowly, and so sought once again to stand.
He managed to eventually get himself up onto all sixes, with only another few convulsions ravaging his body as his movements caused his stomach to swirl some more. Limbs shaking, tails hanging limply behind him, his vision dim around the edges, the Ceramic Beast couldn't be sure how long had actually passed since he began his struggle to get up, but he now noticed that the gate guards had gone back to their posts, whilst Dane simply stood and waited once again, looking back into the city.
Just as he was beginning to feel a little spark of curiosity lighting up the back of his mind, as he began to wonder what it was that the swordsman was waiting and looking for, he heard her voice.
“Hey, Dane, look! I texted-”
His master drew up short the moment she noticed China's current state. No sooner had he spotted her than his claws were scrabbling madly at the paving stones as he rushed clumsily towards Clownpiece like a faithful hound, whimpering softly as he did.
“Maaaaaster!” he wailed as loudly as his breathy, whispering voice could manage, and the moment he reached her his arms were thrown around her, bearing her down to the ground. He paid not the slightest heed to the others around her, “Please-please not leave again! Me-me so scared-frightened! Please! Me beg-beg! So much-much nasty!”
His words trailed off into a series of choked sobbing noises, though with his body being unable to produce moisture, he had no tears to accompany them. He held her tightly, yet was still careful as could be not to break her, and made extra sure not to risk severing so much as a single strand of her hair with any stray talon or sharp edge of his broken body.
“What the hell did you do?” the Hell Fairy demanded incredulously, wrapping her arms comfortingly around China as she looked past him at the swordsman, who was approaching the group at a more steady pace than had their golem.
![[Image: chinasig3.png]](https://image.ibb.co/gG00sd/chinasig3.png)