hob'Bled Survey%Launch

Yards aheaDallas shrieked, "IT'S OVER HERE, I SEE IT!"

My heart surged as I located him in the frenzy, where he lurched to the right and began to streak in and out of sight between a particularly dense huddle of trees. Sanctuary lay just within that clusteRing. Unfortunately the aggressive critter was still incognito somewhere, possibly regrouping for another strike, while we had a victim on our hands: Dudley still needed to be checked & aided the hunDread yards or so left to Gutterson's GrappleHookout.

I spun back around to the place where everyone (apart from our retreating warrior Cac@Phony) were congregating. Buck became the host of attention, distraught and trembling on one leg.

The team had swooped ahead of my laser-lassoeDaze, assessing if he was alright, Rovo & Siggy stabilizing him beneath the armpits, for they nearest matched his height. Swamp gunk dampened Buck's pink-n-blue shirt, as it tried to advertise his elder brother Leo's soccer fanfare. The Embossed letters upon it: my family Kicks Grass, were no longer legible. A mushroom of blood was ballooning out around his groin, and the next reason for his inhibited balance became clear a moment later:

"Holy shit guys, my foot! It wouldn't leggo! Summin's jus' awful with my foooot," Duds repeated. His fleshy irises buzzed like a swarm through the hysteria... feverishly jittering into my soul. My vision narrowed and Zoomed instantly, crystal-close, with the impression of my head getting caught in a vice. His lips were involuntarily wobbling. A subconscious grimace aged his face a good fifteen years in horror, and misty eyelashes returned from endless space to billow around me with insight.

The guy wasn't someone that people gave much thought for, except to tell him to get lost when he made a ruckus, like a dog seldom shown attention. His main company was that talented soccer guy who was more of a simple, stabilized personality; couldn't have been much comfort for a carefree goof like himself.

Shuddering, Buck pinched his pink peepers shut, and dangled his foot higher for us to examine: "How's it?!" he asked.

A barrage of muffled exclamatory remarks spiked into the atmosphere. "Bucking broncos; my Lord..." The front of his boots were mangled, and at least three of his toes were sushi. "Just stay calm, dude," I heard Trent protest through a sinking chest. None of us could form real speech to deliver the news to him, but after a moment Buck cracked his eye to peek... instantly emitting a chain of dizzy moans.

Siggy tried to assume some order. "Kay'all, the shack is ovore in dee batch of vegetation. We can get fixed up thay. But we needa move ASAP from this danger zone to Dry ground, since that crittore may well be lurking."

"That's right, let's move!" Pheo said, urgently getting under Buck's arm. "Get Stangborne airborne." Rovo & i scooped his legs, & we wobbly whisked him onward, while scouting the green expanse for any extra disturbances in the grime. But everything in my sight was balling into a big blur, mostly a sick green hue with humanoid shapes moving around in it. I was sick of green. And I was haunted from what I had witnessed below the surface -- which my comrades likely had not. I carrieDudley's gashed side, while struggling back an urge to vomit.

My insides rearranged and slipped through queasy knots. Somewhere in my forehead thrived an Acute pain, but upon trying to pin the area, it throbbingly dispersed and expanded. Nothing of this sort was to have been expected until negotiations with the Vagabonds. This was getting off on the wrong foot, all too literally.

The ground started to gradually slope upwards on soggy land, which meant we were basically there. A decrepiTower was piled high, lichen unto a spiky Asian penthouse on a tight-fisted mounDump. The bog acted as a naturally-functioning moat. Shaded wiTHick curtain of timber, suREmaineDiscreet, virtually hidden from every angle. The most obvious entrance being two wee slits curving into the woodeNest; an impression of not leading back very far, when peered at from a distance. Near impossible to happen upon if not walking within 5 paces of the spot.

The incline began to even out, and the scraping of dry land could be heard under our heavy feet. Alright it was still kinda mushy, but arid in respect to a half hour voyage through endless Sea. My jagged thoughts continued to savage, and abruptly the nausea spiked.

My tongue labored to lift my voice, pulling through a rough slur ~ "Guysch…I feel weird."

"Huh? what? why?" I heard collectively. All they understood right now was getting holed up inside. Crap. Ready or knot, here it comes. Thrashing images splattered within me, inflaming a stream of hot barf, as I was forced to release the leg right before I was overcome by my throat pulverizing itself into the ground.

My assistants skipped back like children touching a scalding pot for the first time, & as I dropped Buck's leg, he yelled like acid splashed over him. I heard grunts of distasteful sympathy from beside me, then a couple alarmed birdies twittering something of the effect, rough broOo; Don't make us wanna join.

A sizable fortune of yellowish vomit dotted with reds-and-greens, wretched out again and again into a pile, until drizzling to dry heaves. I spit the last bitter mush from my lip, & wiped chin driblets against my arm, from there smearing it down across my brown Romper thighs. Although my entire body quivered, I felt relieved (aside from scalding aroma at the back of my tonsil cavity). I stood up on wobbly cells, as Buck's support staff sagged awkwardly along with his hobbling motion, and poor foothold. "Sorry man," I told Duds. "I didn't wanna spray into your bloodstream or anything."

Trent scooted up to further inspect what puke I left behind me. The Prowleys stared at the lumber Fortress Balcony, pondering how exactly to shamble Buck up the ladder. Built on stilts in endeavors of preventing flood damage, the owner decided to make a monument of it. The whole structure towered three times larger than the shop itself (well, I tended to view it as three stories) with the suite sitting about two-thirds of the way up.

To give it an impressive, sturdy appearance, the owner had overlain the stilts with a hollow scaffold, cammo in most areas, except one region of the faded tarp was painted with a surreal looking Panther, curled around some fish bones it was finishing.

With cross-Bowled over his suit-squeezed shoulder, SiGouge-mound RiveRain plugged a concerned pair of rusty eyes into me from between tiny sideburns. His normally tight bangs peeled erratically down toward his eyebrows, while certain tufts at the back appeared in attempt to eject from his scalp. Either way, he always appeared as one on the Hunt, & Sienna back home adored him for the fortitude. I could currently feel my slimy tendrils of hair plastered along my chiNeck & cheek. "Feeling better that we're out of the water," I assured him.

Solemnly, Siggy answered, "Like to scan a Lie Detectore across that line..." I realized family was hurtling forefront to his mind.

This remark however, inhibited the recovery process: I was trying to subtly communicate composure to the whole group. This would be more than a transient stopover now. This would be a rendezvous of serious implication. Right now, relatives who cared were going on about their daily lives, unaware there was a wonky chance something else would come home for dinner in our places. We were both barely 18.

"Long as we can get Buck up that Ladder," I amended, scanning the 3 dozen rungs that ascended.

Dudley chimed in for himself at this point. "I think i kin manage to waddle up, fellas." He leaned into a weary grin. "I still got 3 quarters spread Uh feet."

"Alright," Pheo began. "Rove, you go up first, & Buck after, so you can drag him over the Balcony when we reach it. I'll be behind Buck myself, since I don't necessarily trust anyone else to catch him if he slips."

Nobody put up an argument against the Decision, and the rest of us waited, nervously watching our surroundings as we waited for the Prowley-Buck Sandwich to organize their unit and start climbing. As the final trio of us still on the ground, collected around the ladder, I firmly insisted I would be the next one of us to crawl up (as I wanted to have a perky view of Pheo from below). Even though she was wearing pants that didn't reveal any skin, those pants were fairly tight.

My wish was granted seamlessly, & I swung up onto the rungs, harboring the first pleasant emotions of any time in the last half hour. I accelerated AFAP, until my face was barely a foot from Pheo's rump & her natural smell of motor oil & peppermint. As I meditated more intensely, the waist of my own pants began growing tighter and itchy.

But quick as my fascination flourished, I became distracted by chatter wafting up below me. The other dudes were starting to orally filter what we had encountered back there.

Trent's voice was hushed, extra timid: "That thing was nasty fast man, and I couldn't even tell if it was swimming or had legs. I thought it was a snapping turtle until i got right up next to it."

"Jus' be glad it didn' have big jaws," Siggy's bolder voice injected.

"Let's hear some applauzzze…" tumbled back, "For that Uh-Maayzing observation." Trent reassumed his sauciness.

"Shff, that's not wha we came out here tug face," Siggy sizzled. "If I'd'a known we'd be…" he trailed off as raw sorrow plugged his rant. He came back more hostile. "Eh, forgEDit. Jus' one of doze anomalies in life. We can't contRoll it, we only gotta be on our toes since we're on its turf - We still god 2 more hours scheduled out in that swamp."

"Nawww," sighed Buck, like a weeping willow. "Don' minchin' toes!"

At this point, I decided I should share some of my hope with them. "Guys, we've had a surprise visitor. But when we wade back out there, trust me, Gutter's gonna load us with Equipment plenty stronger than that bastard."