idolpro | The Last Supper - Hunting Grounds

[ Chosen idols will find themselves abruptly taken, in their unit's room one moment and out in a courtyard the next. An impossibly tall and incredibly dense garden hedge divides the courtyard into sections—moreover, it increasingly gets taller when climbed, preventing its residents from escaping their slice of the courtyard.

A few sparse bushes and trees decorate the area, but there's nothing to keep the hunted away from the hunter.

Everyone will find their unit powers are off. However, Hands and Mouths can feel the power deep within themselves—they can grasp that power and turn into their monster form, should they desire so. Hands will find themselves in a natural disadvantage, however: they're much smaller than their Mouth counterparts, diminutive in size, and moreover, while they acquire whatever claws and teeth their monster form affords them, Mouths are capable of strength beyond that—faster agility and strength at minimum, though they may also have supernatural abilities, such as the ability to breathe fire. ]

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[2, welp.]

[Sometimes you wonder why you bothered getting out of bed.]

[3! So honestly, pretty close. He does come out with no weapon.]

Goodness. To what do I owe the honor?

Dumb luck, basically.

Had to pick someone.

No hard feelings, honestly. At least one of us will not go home with an ache in their belly. But might I ask, was it random?

Basically.

[He should have bought a bigger knife for this guy. It's--

[Well, when you're five foot three and built for speed as much as stamina, there's a lot of looming a guy like Alexander can do.]

Your unit ain't got the best reputation.

You should get to know us before you make such judgements. To avoid any misconceptions. Now, I'm going to stretch my legs as it were. Were they kind enough to give you a different form?

After - what, however long it is I've been doing this? I think I know you all pretty fuckin' well.

[You work up to murder done by saying shit like "I'm going to stretch my legs, as it were". Come on.]

Think I know enough.

[Different form?

[He's about to laugh in Alexander's face, it sounds so absurd, but there's something there. Something coiled, wound tight, something that's finding his skin (his skin) too tight, and ill-fitting: something that wants to snap, break free--]

This ain't gonna end with us holding hands and singing Kumbaya.

You tell me. You're the one that sent the invitation.

[Sometimes you get stuck in a single human body that can't change and it is just terrible. The worst!

Which is to say the area fills with black and purple some to reveal a only eight foot all, four armed eldritch creature that is probably not friend shaped.]

Try it. Who knows when you'll get the chance again.

[Nope, that doesn't look friendly.

[And that's the cue for that whatever-it-is that's wearing his skin and finding it fits all wrong to suddenly, violently shed it, and it hurts: K feels himself torn clean in two and somehow still whole, feels skin split and shredded and there should be blood, but there's not--

[--there's just him, somehow, hunched and tense and baring too many teeth in a snarl, and then there's nothing else to think of but the urge to rip, to rend and tear. There are no better ideas, no other thought: just white-hot fury and a growl like a buzzsaw bubbling up in his chest.

[He springs for Alexander's throat.]

[He's still an ancient deep down in his core, so of course other creatures, other monsters, are fascinating to him even if he doesn't say it. It's a good look!

As K lurches on instinct he puts mentally up a barrier as he's done more numerous times than he can cou--- oh, wait that doesn't work at all, does it? Hmm. There are a lot of metal chunks with his face plate and the adornments of his robes, that it isn't a killing strike, but he sure does draw blood with teeth.

And so he wraps him in a bear hug with one of his outer arms, clawed fingers digging points into his back and side if he is able, and pulling roughly to rip apart chunks of flesh.]

[He knows pain.

[K is all teeth and claws and hard muscle and rage: he knows enough to know the monster is only wounded, and not seriously. The pain has him releasing his hold on Alexander, tears a howl of fury and pain from his throat. No. No, this is wrong--

[He's strong like this, strong enough that he can kick and claw and squirm his way free from Alexander's grasp, the barbed tentacles on his back sinking deep into any flesh they can find, for purchase. He's strong and fast and stupid, the white-hot tangle of instincts focused on nothing but the need to get away, get free. He's not thinking of what that might cost him, of the price he's already paid in agony and shock and the gouges in his flesh, the blood that courses down his flanks, his coarse-furred sides.

[It's over already but, like this, he can't know that.

[So he growls, tentacles lashing, and springs again.]

[Tentacles are adorable, honestly.

Though he did think he'd win in the number of limbs contest, but here he is, being outdone. How charming! The barbed edges, though, less charming. But he can appreciate a good fight and maybe, just maybe, toying with his food a little even if he doesn't smell all that appealing.

He does stagger back from the weight of it, the desperation, the precision as K manages to get himself free. And he grunts a little, a low sound. Almost a huff.]

How troublesome.

[But he is quite a formidable opponent. Impressive, really, since this is all on instinct. As K pounces again, he summons a rather large staff, a statue of something humanoid (as tall as he is almost) as claws and teeth and barbs come for him. He tries to bash him with it.]

[It winds him; might have broken a rib or two, though the thing that is K doesn't know that, either. He lands heavily, but rage and adrenaline and bloodlust have him finding his feet again, head hung low, growling. A wounded beast at bay, determined not to make an easy target...

[Shakes his head, to clear it. It doesn't work.

[He doesn't understand, and doesn't think about it further.

[He doesn't make the mistake of springing for face and neck this time. Instead he goes low, throwing himself bodily at Alexander's waist, aiming to destabilize, to knock him to the floor. The tentacles lash forward, striking out at chest and thigh, dragging, dragging. Get him onto the ground. Go for the belly. Claw and bite and tear.]

['Tenacious'. That's the thought running through his head as he plowed over. Not even the extra limbs give him enough balance as sharp edges rake and tear, as droplets of blood paint the ground.

Enough of this.

He lifts the staff straight above him and plunges it straight down through K, through himself as well, pinning them both.]

[It was already over: this makes sure of it.

[Perhaps it's a mercy. K is bleeding freely; he's weakening, with every beat of his heart. Ending it quickly and cleanly at least puts a stop to all that.

[His eyes widen, uncomprehending. His body goes tense. For a single suspended moment, the monster he's become is bewildered, frightened, lost. Understanding nothing but the now of the pain, a pain so sudden and severe and white-hot he can't even think through it. Can't even breathe...

[It's over in seconds. His muscles turn to water and he slumps: dead weight. Extinguished.]

The Last Supper - Hunting Grounds

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