A Study of Humanity in the Old West (Hippopotamoose and EloquentArgument)

[Hippopotamoose]

Another bullet whizzed overhead, close enough to take a few strands of sweat-drenched black hair with it. Abraham swore, taking the Lord's name in vain as he dove for cover. He opened the cylinder of his revolver and dumped out the spent bullets, quickly reloading before he ducked from behind the makeshift barricade that had been erected to keep himself and other lawmen out.

His posse crept forward with him, moving from cover to cover in a strategic forward push. This hideout was too small to be a real stronghold, but the outlaws had dug themselves into a hillside quarry and set up perimeter defenses that were tricky to get around without opening themselves up to getting their heads blown off. He had suspicions of who their leader was--these bastards loved to come into town, swaggering and gloating about their exploits--but it didn't matter one jot to Abraham: the only good outlaw was a dead one. Especially when they were farm-burning, woman-killing, child-stealing bastards like this lot.

So he had gathered up a few good men and they rode out into the night, following the vague directions of the lone surviving farmhand, and eventually one of the scouts spotted the hideout. Now the lead was flying, and there was a trail of bodies left in his wake as he pushed inwards. Two more of the scum fell to his righteous fury before he breached the actual front door. A grungy man with stringy blonde hair lunged at him with a knife, and he caught it on the forearm before he could block. His hand closed around the man's wrist and he barreled forward with his shoulder, twisting until he could heave the man over his shoulder and throw him bodily across the room. BANG! BANG! He ducked, darted, and took the second assailant out at the kneecaps with another tackle, before putting his revolver to the man's temple and pulling the trigger.

"Don't move, lawman."

Moses "Savage" Greene had a shotgun aimed at his face. Not wanting to taste that much lead at that close a distance, Abraham froze in place, though his furious gaze darted sideways to lock onto his quarry. "Smartest move you've made since you took them kids, Savage. Gettin' me alone. I assume you got a backdoor outta here?"

Savage grinned, half of his teeth having rotted out of his head long ago. "Better. I got me a meal ticket, lawman, and I ain't fed it in a while. So yer gonna stand up and walk on back, let it have its fill'a ya, and then I'm gonna let it loose on yer friends out there."

Abraham stood, slowly, leaving his revolver on the floor by the slain outlaw. He lifted his hands into the air on either side of his head, and waited for Savage to gesture him forward. The outlaw gestured with his shotgun towards a door, and with cold rage etched into every line of his face, Abraham walked through the door into the main living area of the hideout.

 

[EloquentArgument]

Chaos erupted beyond the skeletal walls, sparks in the night heralded with cries and curses. There was no fear that jolted him, no worry clenched his throat. His eyes went from the grime-covered pane that let them look out at the scattered remains of what used to be a farm. On his feet by the time the firefight was in full bloom, he lurched toward the glass, squinting through the dust at the shapes that clashed in the night that bathed them.

"Stay down," His voice was a shredded rasp, a viper's hiss of scales against sand, barely a whisper, but he knew the children heard him. They were crowded together in the corner of their small prison; he couldn't tell what they were more afraid of, him or the thunder of lead rain in the dark. They remained motionless, and he didn't look at them. His eyes went to the door as he backed into the shadow of the room. It was the only place they had been able to get a proper anchor down into the floor, so the heavy chain that stretched to his neck couldn't be worked free. There was a window, yes, but it faced the rest of camp; escape, even if he had the strength, meant the children had nothing between them and the battle playing out.

He sank low in the dark, the chain that held him to the floor pulled taut in his left hand, and he poised still as death in the darkness. Beyond the door, he listened to meaningless words but didn't really hear them. His glassy, black stare unwavering as he waited.

The man was unfamiliar, but his raised in unmistakable surrender kept him in place, hunkered to the floor. In the darkness, he seemed almost skeletal - threadbare canvas wrapped around his hips, the ruddiness of his skin long washed out and greyed, but his eyes were still bright, the black of his huge pupils ringed with a thin circle of chartreuse. Closer, closer, closer, come closer, come closer---

The sound that came from him warbled, deep and dark, echoing in his slack jaws the unmistakable hiss of something angry, of something hungry, of something cold and hateful.

 

[Hippopotamoose]

The smell hit him first. An unwashed body, decaying even as its heart kept beating. He could almost taste the pheromones of fear and hatred on his tongue as he huffed, stepping surely into the dark room.

He heard the terrified chattering of the children's teeth, and spotted the darkened lump in the corner that was certainly them. And then he heard the threatening rumble of the hungry creature, of his impending death. He caught gleam of a hungry stare and felt his heart do flips. What in the Nine Hells have you locked up in here? Then shotgun dug into his spine, shoving him forward as Savage called out into the darkness. "Got a snack fer ya, freak-"

There's a common mistake people make when holding a hostage. Too many of them haven't seen real combat; they rely on large numbers and the luck that they won't run into trained killers in order to win in gunfights. This leads them to making stupid moves, such as standing close to your adversary and putting your gun right against their back. Savage, despite his name and reputation, was a thug and a bully; not a trained combatant. So he wasn't prepared for the quick turn, the heel of a palm to the barrel of his shotgun. Of course, he fired, which heated up the metal and burned Abraham's palm, but luckily the scattershot embedded itself into the wall and not into the children. Abraham shoved the gun to his side and drove the point of his elbow hard into Savage's throat, then his nose. The outlaw squawked in pain, trying to pull his weapon up for another shot, only to have it ripped from his hands. Once, twice, thrice: he drove his fist into Savage's bloodied face, then grabbed his collar and yanked him down as he drove his knee up into the other man's gut.

Savage fell to his knees, blinking up at Abraham a split second before the lawman drove the butt of the shotgun into his broken nose. Unconscious, he fell back, sprawled in the doorway.

Abraham, panting from the exertion, turned towards where he thought the children were crouched, squinting through the darkness. "It's okay now, he's done. He ain't gon' hurt ya anymore." He said, as soft and reassuring as he could make his deep baritone. He started to move towards the shape in the corner, hands held out in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. "C'mon now, let's get ya outta here."

 

[EloquentArgument]

The smell of blood slowly creeping into his lungs had begun to take a certain prominence in his mind. A snack, he'd said; a lie, of course, and the stranger proved that with how quickly he took down the pig. Hunger was a constant friend, something he had learned to ignore, most of the time, but it had been so long since he had ripped into flesh and sated the coldness that had spread into his bones. It was enough to drive a man mad, but he could not let that happen. Not yet.

The children were terrified of him, but that was the fault of their fathers. They were innocent things, their sins only of ignorance, and they were so young. They had plenty of time to still grow into something better than the wickedness that followed the men. He grit his teeth with the strength of Atlas cradling the world, and let loose that wicked, low noise. It grew slowly, louder, a warning cast out from a hollow snarl as the man reached toward the children. His teeth seemed... wrong when his lip peeled back; too pointed in places, crowded tightly, strangely skeletal, like the rest of him. The man spoke softly to them, but that meant nothing, did it?

No, it didn't. Humans lied, it was one of their strongest skills. The children did not call him by name, they did not run to a savior; it was just as likely something worse had taken Savage's place.

He moved like a shadow in spite of the heavy clatter of the large links as the chain went taut. He stopped short of the man's hands, low to the ground, and launched his chest forward, clawing hard at what he hoped was the man's arms, but could not strike properly. He searched for a handhold, something, anything. If he could just get him closer―closer, closer, closer, please, just closer―they could run, out the window, through the door, it didn't matter. The gunshots seemed fewer, then, they would have a chance to get to the trees. "Run," The hiss roiled into a bellow, a tortured noise of raw anger that came from a moment far away from the present, moments that haunted every thought and filled the empty spaces inside of him, of screams and terror and so many more that couldn't be saved, that couldn't get away.

But the children did not run. They rose, tempted not by a stranger, but a familiar reassurance, and their chorus of shrill gasps surprised him. He tore his face toward them and saw only fear in their hesitation. No, no, no, no, please run, run, run.

 

[Hippopotamoose]

A feral growl reached his ears, a rattle of chains heralding the attack from the side. Abraham braced, turning his heel slightly so he could stop the creature from reaching the children but then there was a clank as the chain went taut and the creature struggled at the end of the chain, pawing at Abraham's arms. Blunted nails and skeletal fingers tried to grasp him, and the only reason Abraham didn't react instantly was due to pure shock: what little he could see of the creature in this dim light painted a story of torture and starvation that no living thing deserved to suffer. Whatever this creature was, he could see the hateful glint in its eyes, the hunger in its snarl. Then there was a call, a call to run, not aimed at him.

The children hesitated, cowering tightly against the wall out of the creature's reach as it clawed the sheriff's arms. He tried to batter to the creature's hands away, and when that didn't work he tried to take hold of the boney wrists. "Stop." He didn't shout, didn't spit; Abraham shuffled in between the creature and the children as it swung at him, still trying to catch it's flailing hands. "Stop this now, I ain't gonna hurt'em!" Why would this creature care about human children? Abraham had no answers for that question, but it was clear the aura of fear wasn't only from the young. "I'm gonna get them outta here, get them to safety. Their pa is real worried about them, just calm down now!" Giving it up, he backed up towards the kids, keeping himself between them and this feral beast, and waved his hand behind his back. "Just gonna get them somewhere safe, alright? Ain't gonna hurt'em." The little girl had started to sob, and Abraham grit his teeth before quickly turning his back on the monster so he could usher the children along the wall, out of the room. "C'mon now, don't be scared, we're gonna get ya back to yer pa." He put a hand on the boy's back as the children shuffled forward, urging them towards the door. On the threshold he stopped, looking behind him at the creature for a long moment before he said "I'll be back, just sit tight."

Abraham hurried the children out of the dark room into the light, trying to shield them from the bodies and the blood. The gunfire outside had ceased, and he posted up in the door for a moment to peer outside. The men of his posse were moving between the slipshod fortifications, ensuring the outlaws were dead or restrained properly. When he stepped out into the night, the men spotted him and hurried forward. He barked orders, one hand on the shoulder of each child, and steered them towards his deputy who took over, gently guiding them through the battlefield to the woods where the horses were stashed. Prisoners were quickly rounded up, weapons and ammunition were looted from the dead.

"We don't want ghouls this close to town." He said, kicking one sinner's body. "Build a pyre, burn'em."

With the outlaws taken care of, there was only one thing left to handle. The creature.

He took a waterskin from one of his men, and he found a can of peaches that looked like someone was trying to cook in a firepit. The can was dented and scorched, but the peaches inside looked bright and smelled like heaven. He took these items with him back into the building, and cautiously stepped into the dark room where the creature was kept. "I'm back, like I said I'd be." He called out, his eyes scanning the room until he found the skeletal thing. He approached slowly, stopping just outside the range of the chain before he crouched down and held out the can of peaches. "You look hungry, you like peaches?" He asked, setting the can down and nudging it towards the creature.

 

[EloquentArgument]

He expected a backhand, a swipe of one of the guns, maybe right into his face like the bully at their feet, but rather than knock him out of the way, the man struggled with him, took his wrists in trying to get him to understand. I ain't gonna hurt 'em! The sound simmered still in his chest, but there was a hesitation to his resistance. The little girl's sobs seemed to steal both their attentions, and he found himself poised again in the dark as they ushered by.

Quiet had taken hold on the night beyond, just the stranger's request lingering with him. He cradled his hands and sank back to the floor in silence, his stare drifting down to the anchor tightly fitted into the floor. He could probably get it loose himself, but that would take time, his strength had done nothing but atrophy in his time, and he couldn't reach the pool of power inside of him that could have lent him that strength.

When the stranger returned, there was no answering growl, only the faint hiss. Still cautious, but weak, tired; his eyes dropped down to the can in his hand, following it down to the floor. There was several heartbeats of silence where he remained motionless at the question. The smell was so intensely sweet, overpowering the entire world for a split second. He wanted to pounce, lick every drop, every sliver of fruit, but he remained still several moments longer. When he moved, the motion was deliberate, measured; he sat hard on the floor next to the can. He reached for it carefully, digging into the soft fruit with one hand. He wanted to gorge himself, but he was too familiar with that pain. He'd almost rather starve than take on the full body cramps that came with having suddenly too much food. He shoved it into his mouth, rumbling with a warm, pleased noise.

 

[Hippopotamoose]

The quiet hesitation and eventual acquiescence gave Abraham's eyes time to adjust to the dark. It was still hard to make out, given the lack of light, but he could see how thin and sallow the creature was. The chain that slithered across the floor was heavy and unyielding, and he followed the length of it to an anchor point. He let the creature savor the peach a moment before he also set the canteen down and slid it across the floor to be within range. "That's right, nice and slow." He encouraged, not wanting the emaciated thing to be sick from the sweet treat that he certainly had been denied for too long. "Those peaches are all yours, yeah? And maybe we can find ya something a little more substantial, if ya like." There were footsteps behind him and, not wanting to overwhelm the creature, he scooted back a few steps until he could see out the door and held up his hand to stop his deputy from stepping inside the room. The man hesitated, but offered a silent nod, and Abraham turned his gaze back to the creature.

"Doesn't look like you were here by choice, and I'm assumin' ya'd like to get outta here quick as spit." He said, in much the same tone as he had spoken to the frightened children. "Now, it seemed to me like you were tryin' to protect them kids when I came for'em, which is mighty admirable of ya. They're safe now, and we're gonna take them back to their pa." He crouched down to eye-level with the creature, keeping his voice soft and even. He had no way of knowing yet if this creature was fae, which made him hesitant to share his name, but the sounds, the eyes--they certainly weren't human. "You got a name? Not whatever these scum called ya, but a real name? I'm sure their Pa will want to know who it was what kept his young safe."

 

[EloquentArgument]

His free hand spidered to the canteen the moment it was released; he fumbled, but quickly opened it up and pulled it to his mouth. Part of it spilled down his mouth, down his chest, and he struggled with the urge to the remainder on himself. That was a waste, though, when it tasted so fresh and clean and wonderful on his tongue.

He drank for only a moment, though. He made himself pull away, peeled his fingers away from it for another bite of the peaches. His stare never changed, but there was a thoughtful frown that had developed as he stared. He did not believe the man could simply be kind; perhaps he was better than his previous captor, perhaps he was a different type of awful altogether. But, what choice did he have? From the pan straight to flame, for better or worse he was still chained to the floor. Peaches and water was more than anyone else had bothered to give him in a very long time.

"Bo," It wasn't his name, he wasn't stupid, but it was a name, one that had been given to him by his family and friends. His name was the only thing that still belonged to him, and no one could take it from him, not with knives or guns or threats. Bo was it's placeholder. "Release me," His voice crackled with the rasp, the words somehow foreign and familiar on his lips. "I will run, I'll be gone from this place," And go where? Somewhere, anywhere, even if he remained alone.

 

[Hippopotamoose]

Bo. A simple pair of letters that told him nothing of who or what this creature was, but it was a start. Still, he'd had dealings with fae before, and knew good people who had been tricked into giving up their names, so he was wary. Pleasure to make your acquaintence, Bo. You can call me Ray, for now." A common enough moniker that hopefully wouldn't give away his true name.

The command for freedom gave Abraham pause, and had his lips thinning as the corners of his mouth pulled back in a worried grimace before he could school his features. "I'd like to, Bo." He kept his voice gentle again, "But I ain't too certain of what you'll do once I let ya go. I been around enough to know ya ain't human, and that means I gotta make sure my people are safe if I let ya loose. You might run, ya might decide yer hungry enough to take a few of us for a vengeful little snack." He lowered himself to the ground, sitting cross-legged in front of the creature. "Can ya tell me why that bastard had ya chained up in here? Can ya tell me what ya are?"