{SEASONAL EVENT} Too Gourd To Be True {Open}

{{A request for any who wish to join this thread: I often have trouble loading/reading posting tables, so I would appreciate if people don’t use them here. Thank you!}}

He’d heard of the cursed gourds from the pretty bartender, but this was his first time experiencing them himself. They weren’t nearly the laughing matter he’d expected them to be – more unsettling than humorous – but they also weren’t the threat some of the sentient plants of his own world could pose. They were just so bizarre that it was hard to take them seriously! And for all that Jigano was a serious man – often too much so, or so his old traveling companions had jibed – he wasn’t so straight-laced that he couldn’t let his hair down and have a little fun now and again.

After all, what would be the harm in teasing the mindless plantimals a bit? If nothing else it was a nice break to take his mind off his troubles. And of these, he had many. Past, present, and future were all awash in problems without answers. If he didn’t take a break soon he might find himself breaking, and there was no one here he knew well enough – much less trusted – to help him put the pieces back together again.

The white fox had frozen atop the rock he’d leapt upon just before spotting the little pack of vicious vegetables as the thoughts had spun through his mind, but he shook himself sharply to push back his inner demons and turned his attention to the outer ones, letting out a little yip to get their attention. The collection of gruesome gourds, with their carved faces and devilish eyes glowing in the evening’s gloam, turned almost as one to focus on the newcomer. Jigano bared his teeth in an approximation of a grin and then hopped down from his perch, muscles bunching beneath silky fur as he launched himself straight at the pack – patch? – of his would-be hunters. A smarter foe might have been surprised, but the pumpkins, squashes, and lone zucchini were already heading towards him with gleeful abandon.

The fox realized he had, perhaps, overestimated his new playmates and so, instead of simply barreling through them he turned on a paw and flicked his tail across the round, green, grinning orb in the lead. Tag! he smirked to himself as teeth made of rind crunched together on empty air. The tail’s owner had already begun to run – slowly enough for his entourage to keep up – deeper into the woods. He had to keep bouncing back, tapping first one, then another to keep their attention and make sure he didn’t lose them as he slipped like a pale ghost through the skeletal trees, leading them on a merry chase in what he thought was a deserted grove.

When suddenly…

[ I'm assuming this is the "play with the gourds" thing? :o Jigano ]

So, what had been going on lately was .. both disturbing and entirely normal. You see, to Rory, gourds coming alive and running rampant was a brand new experience, but it was also a very Caido flavor of weird. So while his first encounter with the beastly vegetables outside his front door had been to yelp and leap back inside, he wasn't too traumatized. It was a pain, sure, the dogs were confused and the goats either terrified or in paradise—food came to them!

Turned out the mares and the goats were better at dealing with living gourds than the dogs or Bakshi, who spent most of his days hiding at the back of their stall, refusing to come near the devilish things.

Even after weeks of them being around.

So Rory had left the mares guarding the goats, the dogs indoor, Bakshi in his stall, and the goats-and-mares feasting on gourds whenever there was an incursion. He'd gone on foot into the forest, wearing his greatcoat, the rusty, trusty pike, and his hair in a messy braid.

When suddenly: while browsing through the undergrowth for late mushrooms, crouched down on the edge of a clearing, a fox and a pack of gourds broke into it. The fox was beautiful, eerie white and ghost-like, perfect enough that Rory's brain couldn't help but think of the price its fur would fetch, and the gourds were the usual rabble: bright-eyed and sharp-toothed, mashing seeds and rinds together and making the most disconcerting noise as they bounced and jostled across the ground, obviously chasing the fox, who seemed to encourage them.

Rory held his breath, sitting in place, enchanted by the bizarre scene he was witness to.

The rush of adrenaline and the unexpected joy of the game had been just what he’d needed, cheering Jigano immensely as he dashed and leapt through the underbrush, already thinning with the onset of autumn. He hadn’t had any particular plan of where to go, nor much thought for the future. The gourds weren’t fast enough to pose a true threat and he was confident in his ability to lose them once he tired of the chase.

He hadn’t been expecting company, most of his attention focused behind him on his pursuers, and it took a little while before he registered the blond man sitting so still in the clearing. Surprise had him padding to a halt, ears perked in curiosity as he took in the coat – perfect for protection against messy gourd-splatter – and the large polearm.

It would be terribly rude not to introduce himself first… but… an impulse born of wicked humor brought a sparkle to bright blue eyes and he gathered himself and flung his long, lithe body back into motion just as a calabash with two mouths made a roll for his ankles. He kicked it on his way past, small paw barely scratching the thick rind, and made a line straight for the newcomer, tongue lolling in greeting. He slowed to a trot just as he reached the handsome fellow, tilting his head to the side slyly with a mental crow of Base! before leaping over a knee and scampering behind him on light feet.

Unless Rory moved to stop him, the white fox would put his paws on the back of his great coat and bark tauntingly over his shoulder at the gourds, daring them to come get him.

The gourds, seeing only new flesh to grind between their toothy rinds, were happy to oblige, trundling towards Rory with fresh eagerness in malevolently-glowing eye holes.

[ I think the mind-speak only works on other Attuned? At least, that's how I understood it. ]

The moment when the fox noticed him was immediately recognizable: the white creature came to a standstill, peering straight at him, and Rory felt the breath catch in his chest. Would it take off, now that it had seen him? And wasn't that calabash rolling a little too close to it? His gaze went to the menacing gourd, then to the fox's thin ankles; could a vegetable cause any harm to the delicate bones and ligaments..?

Should he intervene?

But just as his hand began its journey towards the pike, the fox darted back into motion, heading directly for him: tongue lolling out, elegant leap turning to a flashy trot. Rory's sky blue eyes met the icy ones of the fox, and he felt both a sense of relief and disappointment. It was obviously an Attuned in its animal form, for no wild fox would approach him so.

Regardless, a small smile began to form on his lips. It was difficult not to appreciate the beauty of the fox, and the wicked glint in its eyes.

Then it was off again, leaping across one of his knees and disappearing behind him; he felt the telltale weight of little paws pressing into his back, felt its bark vibrate through his body as it taunted the gourds. Rory laughed as they came rolling, knowing how easy they were to dispose of yet vaguely unnerved all the same: their bright eyes and their gnashing mouths seemed to promise something unholy and painful, but honestly, how painful could a bite from a vegetable be?

Still, he wasn't very interested in finding out, so when the first one came within reach of his pike, he drove the point of the pike into its ripe flesh, creating a makeshift gourd hammer. He swept it into the oncoming ranks, watching some scatter, and some break, including the one on his pike.

{Yup! Just letting Jigano ‘speak’ in case any other Attuned joined the thread}

Rory’s smile, however small, was all the invitation the fox had needed to finish his approach and embroil the man in his game. Laughter bespoke an easy-going nature and a willingness to play, and the smooth way he rose with pike in hand revealed a quiet competence the fox could appreciate. He dealt with the gourds calmly enough – perhaps this wasn’t his first encounter with the devilish vegetation? But there was a large number of the unholy orbs and it wasn’t fair to expect him to do all the work.

Jigano abandoned his safe base behind his new ally to pad off to the side, crouching for a moment and calculating his next move as the blond’s pike-turned-hammer swept a couple of their fruity foes to pulp. Rory had drawn the full attention of the patch and, for a moment, even the fox’s distinctive white coloring went unnoticed as a much larger and more dangerous prey took the attention of their attackers. What more could he ask for?

As the next swing of the pike scythed by, Jigano leapt into the fray once more, taking advantage of the opening to plant his paws on top of an overzealous pumpkin before it could reach Rory’s ankles. From there he bounded to a squash and then the scratched calabash once more before he touched foot on leaf-strewn soil again, this time behind the bumbling group. As he’d hoped, a number of their fiendish friends were drawn back to his dash through their midst and turned away from Rory, easing the number of gourds still bobbling and rolling their way after the man.

With a yip of encouragement to his erstwhile partner Jigano danced back, taunting the enemies focused once more on their original quarry and drawing them off a little ways, darting in with bats of a paw or a flick of his tail to keep their attention on the game of tag while Rory reaped their brethren down to a more manageable number.

[ Ah, I see! :D ]

As far as weird things in Caido went, these ones were relatively harmless and easy to dispose of—physically. It was harder to clear the image of them burned into his mind, the rare but stressful dreams of giant pumpkins tearing through the forest with their sharp, gnashing teeth hunting for only one thing: manflesh. Or horseflesh. It was honestly worse to see a pumpkin thrice the size of his house mangling his horses than it was to die underneath a carpet of fist-sized gourds, but if Rory had to choose, he'd rather not have nightmares at all.

Pity he couldn't choose. And lucky they weren't thrice the size of his house or particularly efficient horse-killers. Bracing his body and particularly his right ankle, Rory gave one of the squash a well-aimed kick, wincing as the vegetable went flying. They might be small, but they were compact, and he knew he'd end up bruised if he kicked too many. Neither his feet nor his boots were made for kicking shit around, really.

The fox went back to its game, scampering out from behind his legs and picking a couple of foes, including the double-mouthed calabash from before. Rory grimaced a little and swept the pike in a low arc, clearing the ground just ahead of him to take a couple of seconds to watch the animal again.

To move with such freedom and grace...

But best not go there. A small yellow-and-green striped ball of fury and seeds and a fleshy mouth smashed painfully into his shin. "Ow!" he yelped, driving the pike through it in retaliation.

This really was an unexpectedly fun game, his unease with the fiendish fruits' initial appearance swiftly being replaced with cocky amusement at how easy they were to run circles around. He was damn glad he had found someone with a bit more muscle to help thin their numbers, though; it wouldn't have been a good idea to leave them to their own devices once he started to tire and needed to escape. He was quick enough on his feet to lose them at a sprint, but they couldn't be good for the local animals and heaven forbid they cornered a child or got after domesticated animals in an enclosure... No, he owed the blond man a drink and a 'thank you' someday for this - perhaps when he wasn't expecting it. Jigano was, after all, in an unusually mischievous mood, and he let his tongue loll in canine laughter as he dodged one lunging pumpkin only to suddenly reverse direction and orchestrate a multi-gourd collision between the leaders and stragglers of his little pack of playmates.

The cry of pain got his attention abruptly and he looked to its source in swift concern. The warrior was getting overwhelmed with small but doughty foes, it seemed, but fighting back valiantly. Their numbers were thinning out, but the remaining gourds were redoubling their efforts, perhaps sensing weakness or simply encouraged by their late comrade's success. The white fox barked angrily to try and get their attention - and then yelped as the relentless calabash finally brought one mouth to bear on a back paw he didn't move fast enough.

He kicked back on instinct, breaking through the small gourd's rind-teeth with difficulty and a grim realization that if one of the larger fruits caught him he might be in more trouble. The foot was bruised, but not badly enough to stop him from using it while adrenaline flowed and dulled the pain, at least for the moment. He shook himself, sidling away from an acorn squash's attempt to roll him down, then scampered deftly back to the relative safety of his ally's legs. Taking up position he growled, white fur bristling and fluffing up to make himself look bigger. Attack his base, would they? The next small gourd that tried to ram Rory's legs would find itself head-butted off course by a very displeased ball of white fur and dainty fury.

It would have been more impressive if two more mid-sized squashes hadn't followed in its wake almost immediately...

It was what he deserved for letting himself get distracted, really. He'd been too absorbed by the fox's graceful play and let his guard down—easy target for the gourds. Angrily, Rory stabbed another squash, ending its nightmarish charge. It wasn't like they were difficult foes, either! There were just a lot of them, and he would've much rathered just watched the fox.

But alas. And it was the fox's turn to yelp, causing Rory's gaze to snap back to it. His heart froze in his chest for a moment. That damned calabash had one of the fox's paws in its mouth, and very, very briefly, it seemed it wouldn't get lose. Rory's brain computed the path and the distance to the fox, but before he had a chance to launch either himself or the pike, the little white creature got loose. Not wanting to be caught off guard again, Rory looked down and kicked another encroaching gourd away.

In the corner of his eye he saw the fox return, felt its presence behind his calves; he glanced down, a small smile curving the corner of his mouth. It really was kind of cute, all fluffed up like that. Some Attuned ought to never shift out of their animal forms.

Then again, the person behind the fox could be cute too, but Rory doubted he'd want to ruffle its stomach or tug on its ears.

Still, he had squashes to deal with before he could even think about setting such a plan in motion (and it was kind of weird to think about whenever he acknowledged the fact that the fox was most likely a human in magical disguise). So he chuckled as the fox headbutted away a small gourd that had taken advantage of his spell of inattention, appreciating being saved by his playmate. But.. following in its wake was two rather large squashes, and Rory, again, felt his heart freeze.

It was something about their size and their glowing eyes and their fleshy mouths, and the noise they made as they determinedly wobbled and rolled and bounced towards them: Rory made a noise that was something like determination and fear-driven anger, and stabbed relentlessly into one of them with the pike.

Sort of belatedly realizing that there were two of them and he wasn't getting his one to stop/die fast enough...

There were only a half dozen of the fearsome fruits remaining, most of them from the fox’s merry little band of playmates he’d coaxed away earlier and now making their bumbling, trundling return to the heart of the action. Unfortunately they were led by two of the larger gourds in the group, and Jigano was a little wobbly on his paws after the ill-thought-out headbutt. Nor was his companion having fun anymore – the sound that came from his throat was almost animalistic and clearly unhappy. The fox didn’t blame him – with both of them nursing bruised legs the game had lost its charm and he was ready to bring it to an end.

The pike whistled past over his flattened ears, stabbing into the heart of one of the twin terrors but its mate was right behind and Jigano snarled, shaking himself as he gathered his courage and launched himself at it, taking heart from the blond man’s steadfast defense. It was as big as he was and weighed more, but the fox had momentum on his side, and the green squash was round and lacked traction. Front paws hit the gourd high, followed by the rest of the fox as he slipped over its smooth rind, scrabbling for purchase. He might have slid right off but his jaws caught the upthrust stem and locked, and as his body continued on behind the vicious vegetable it found its forward motion halted and dragged back a little ways. There was a moment’s pause and then Jigano found purchase with small claws and jerked his head as if snapping a rabbit’s neck. The stem in his teeth crunched and splintered much the same as one and the squash let out a bubbling howl as it tipped over backwards.

The fierce calabash, still with one good mouth, had just wobbled up in its wake and had a few seconds to realize its companion had stopped its charge before the squash rolled back on top of it, crushing the smaller gourd and silencing its high-pitched keen of protest. The fox spat out the broken stem as he scrambled away, white tail fluffed out like a bottle brush as he barked to keep the attention of the remaining four gourds – one trying to roll back upright and three smaller pumpkins – on him while Rory recovered.

He wasn't sure a squash—big and rind-teeth or not—could actually hurt him, but there was something to be said for peace and quiet. To be able to stand still and breathe without a pack of murderous vegetables trying to swarm up your legs, intent on your slow and likely pulpy and painful destruction. Simply put, they'd come to the point where Rory just wanted them to stop, but that didn't seem to be a thing in their vocabulary.

So he stood there, repeatedly throwing the head of his pike down into the soft flesh of the squash, wondering what the other large one would do to them when it came close. Just nip at their ankles?

A thing, though: it could probably hurt the fox.

And the fox sped past him, full of bravery as it took on the other squash, stopping it from getting any closer to Rory. He saw it slide over the top of the smooth green gourd and disappear behind it.

With his face set into a mask of unhappy determination Rory looked down at his own pumpkin; the light in its eyes had gone out and it no longer struggled against the pike. Around him was a fruity mess, soft orange flesh and seeds strewn across the impromptu battlefield. A few gourds still struggled in the goo, one of them being the huge one the fox had tipped over. Rory hefted the pike, with the other pumpkin still on it, and brought it down hard over the other; not like it'd hurt the still whole one, but the dead one exploded in a spray of pumpkin pieces. Pulling his aching arm back Rory lifted the pike's tip again, before dropping it in the incapacitated gourd.

As said before: it wasn't like they were difficult to kill, but he'd be sore in a couple of hours. He wasn't used to this constant stab-stab-stabbity-stabbing, and he was beginning to feel it, so the relative quiet was a welcome change of pace. Grunting, Rory swung the protesting impaled gourd towards the remaining ones, flattening two of them into puddles and sending the last one flying back a couple of yards. Oh, well. It'd come back and die. Or it would take off and be spared. Rory didn't care, just stood there with his makeshift pumpkin hammer and watched it with wary eyes, waiting to see what it would do.

His erstwhile companion finished with his first foe and turned to the squash Jigano had temporarily felled, making sure it couldn’t rise again. More, he managed to take out two of the smaller ones along with it, though orange pulp splattered one of the fox’s forelegs before he could dance back. He was slowing down, the last lunge having taken much of his remaining energy, and he shook himself off with a tired sigh as the adrenaline faded with the defeat of the biggest foes.

The final pumpkin, fearless and determined to continue its reign of terror, began rolling towards them once more. Jigano gave it a perfunctory growl and then limped over to Rory, looking up at him with limpid blue eyes. The blond man looked tired, as worn down as the fox was, if not more so. He had been scampering and playing, but the human had been swinging his heavy weapon, stabbing and smashing the pumpkins to pulp. Perking white ears forward, Jigano gave a hopeful whine, glancing back at the last gourd as it picked up speed, cackling as it came.

The fox slipped between Rory’s legs, taking shelter behind his ‘base’ one last time and giving the other man an encouraging bark to slay their final challenger.

He was ready to be done with this, and all signs pointed to the fox being ready to be done with it, too. It limped when it made its way back to him—probably from when that stubborn calabash had got its paw. Rory's eyebrows drew together in concern as he met its gaze. Then its ears perked forward and it slid in behind his legs again, and he found it in himself to chuckle. "You owe it to me to at least let me ruffle your fur after this," he told it wryly, the corner of his mouth curling up in a small smile.

But then he had a more immediate concern: the final gourd of this horde. Rory was too tired for dramatics, but something in him wanted to save what he could of the playful atmosphere. In the end, though, he ended up just hefting his impaled pumpkin high, and bringing it down in a hard blow: both gourds exploded in a spray of seed and flesh and rind, splattering his already soiled pants. They glistened wetly with fruit flesh.

The silence following the last swing was...bizarre. The incessant chattering and cackling was gone, replaced by the relatively mellow sounds of the forest. For a moment, Rory simply stood where he was, breathing rather heavily and hearing little but that and his own heartbeat roaring in his ears.

Then, to his own surprise, he laughed. It was brief and of the 'what the fuck just happened?' variety, and he shook his head. Around them was a crime scene, and gingerly Rory stepped away, towards a cleaner patch of ground. Once he found it he dropped both his pike and his pants himself, folding down rather gracefully into a sitting position. He huffed out a sigh, then looked curiously towards the fox.

He’d heard the man laugh, and cry out in pain, but this was the first time he’d really heard him speak. Jigano flicked his ears in appreciation of the blond’s mellow voice and wry good humor, tilting his head at the bargain before slipping out of the splash zone on three nimble paws. Given the spray of gourd guts he was very glad he had, letting Rory take the brunt of the mess without so much as a flicker of guilt. Pants were easy enough to wash, after all, not like fur!

The silence after the chase and the game was almost startling, but more welcome than Jigano had expected. The squashes had long overstayed their welcome, and he was lucky to have come across the human man when he had. A very tired and somewhat – okay, very – messy human man, who found a clean spot to collapse against after a laugh that had the fox’s tongue lolling out in shared humor. It had been a bizarre experience from start to finish, and the shared game - battle? - had built a bond between them they could explore later, perhaps, but now they could finally rest.

A part of Jigano appreciated the graceful way his ally sank to the ground, but he hadn’t forgotten the yelp from earlier. Carefully, treading delicately through the splatter zone to avoid getting any further mess on his paws, he padded over to Rory and nosed gently at his shin, whining softly in concern and looking up at the blond with big blue eyes.

Rory had mostly forgotten about his shin—it had been of the hurts-like-hell-upon-impact-but-two-minutes-later-you-don't-even-feel-it type, and while he'd probably get a bit of a bruise to show for it, it wasn't that bad. It'd be sore if he hit it for a couple of days. So, in a sense, he was a little surprised when the white fluffy creature daintily picked its way over to him, and—nosed his shin. After a second or so his brain caught up, and he wriggled his foot. "Just bruised," he assured the fox, again skirting around the issue of the fox being human, somewhere beneath all that white fur. It was easier to think of it as simply a very clever and empathetic fox, easier to let himself go.

But that illusion was hard to cling to when meeting those blue, blue eyes. No natural fox would engage in such a human behavior.

Rory grew still, watching those eyes. It felt like admitting to himself that the fox was more than a fox would somehow spell the end of something, but he couldn't put a finger on what that was. "Hey," he said gently, almost sadly, holding out a hand out of habit; it was the way he greeted most of his animals, giving them something tangible to sniff, and then they could choose whether or not they wanted to be petted.

The gesture was comforting to him somehow, as if it reinforced the fox-ness of the Attuned in front of him, stripped it of its human traits in his mind—and should his outstretched hand pass the inspection, he'd gently turn his hand palm up to scratch its jaw.