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Iskaria: The Big Green	By : Collip99 Category: +S through Z > Thundercats Views: 3510 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the ThunderCats or any character or events associated with it. I do not own or make any money from the ThunderCats or from this fiction

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
Elan stepped back and admired his handiwork, if pitching a tent could be considered as such. In fact, Elan always argued that it did. After all, so far from home, shelter, electricity and power of all kinds, the homeliness, no, the security of a well-pitched tent was not something to take lightly. He was sopped with sweat and grime, the day had been relentlessly hot, humid and unpleasant. It was so nasty it felt like the air was slippery. After being satisfied his basecamp was at least fundamentally in situ he stripped off all of his soggy clothing. He felt fairly confident that his nakedness wasn’t upsetting any locals (although maybe giving a thousand blood-sucking bugs a few ideas), and if it were he didn’t care. He knew a deep, clear pool with his name on it. He walked a couple of minutes, towel in hand and reached the stone rimmed pool. Above the pool ran a small trickle of fresh water, probably from a local spring. He tipped his toe in the water. It was surprisingly cold, but refreshingly so. He slid his body in and sighed a long sigh of relief.
“That is freaking awesome!” he beamed from one side of his stubbly, grimy face, to the other. He scrubbed up with a small bar of soap and washed himself from top to tail; from arse to apex, as it were! Elan spent an hour in the water, until the day started to lose its light. He stepped out and wrapped a towel around him. He tip-toed back to his camp and ignited a small gas stove to heat some water for tea. After ten minutes his billycan started bubbling and he added three tea bags for a good, strong brew. He dried himself and slipped on some dark green linen clothes. They looked like glorified pyjamas, and very indeed very similar. Something to keep him cool and dry at night, but ward off sinister bugs of various hues. Elan yawned and stretched as he sipped his black tea (two sugars!). It must have been all of half past seven and the night was black and becoming predictably noisy. He finished his tea and stuffed in his ear plugs. He zippered up his tent, entered his cotton sack and fell asleep soon after, the day’s exertions finally taking their toll.
Back at the copter Glaudus was not fairing so well. The left knee was now raging and he was dehydrated (amongst other things). The gun was still two metres down and Glaudus brain had pretty much convinced the rest of the human’s pain racked body that dropping that distance to the gun was ‘just not worth the effort’. But gun or no gun Glaudus and his brain realised that he couldn’t simply dangle there for ever more. The light was just starting to fade and he knew that he had to get down, get a drink and take pain relief, probably in that order! He looked around the scene one more and tried to work out ways to minimise the effect of gravity that his corpulent frame had done so much to exaggerate. Finally, after much head-scratching he came up with a plan. He would wrap one arm behind him and the seat, that would be step one. Then the other arm would unbuckle his body, step two. Then he would carefully twist around so his face was in the seat, step three. From there it was a gentle lowering of his body until he would drop down fifty centimetres onto his right leg, step four. From there he would lay down and work out the rest from relative comfort. Oh…he’d have a gun too! Being right-handed he wrapped his right arm behind him and grabbed the metal frame of the seat as best he could. He cautiously manipulated the buckle release mechanism and pulled. Nothing. Glaudus was firmly at step two so far.
“Shit!!” he cursed.
He tried again, with more force. Nothing. Now he was angry.
“Open!” he yanked.
“The!” he pulled.
“Fuck!” he cajoled.
“Up!” he thumped.
This set of instructions worked and Glaudus applied steps two to four in under one point four seconds. He plummeted two metres onto the windshield, winding himself, cutting his forehead and grating something dubious in his left knee. He howled in agony and grabbed his knee, nursing and comforting it’s obvious deficiencies.
“Fuck, fuck, fuckity-fuck!” he wailed. To add insult to injury, he’d cut his head on the gun!
A noise! There, again!
He wiped his moist eyes and tried to stop whimpering for a moment. The rustling returned briefly. Glaudus craned his ear, trying to pick out anything. The merest whisper.
BANG!!!
The chopper rocked. Something was on the outside of the wreck. Something big! Glaudus cowered and remained motionless.
The chopper rocked once more as something moved over its surface. Every so often the motion would stop, the interloper was pausing. Then the movement would continue again. The light had pretty much left the day behind and travelled over the horizon. The night outside was dark before dusk had even got a chance for so much as a ‘how d’ya do’. Something toyed with the bent and jammed door. Glaudus watched, horrified and intrigued. He was now glad that the door was jammed enough to be effectively locked. His eyes slowly got accustomed to the darkness and there seemed to be no other point for ingress or egress. The ripped off tail had left a small tubular void, but not much could have made its way through that small space, being crammed with wires and tubes. There was now a more concerted rattling of the door and a creak.
“What the?” Glaudus practically mouthed silently.
A deeper, richer creak followed and movement from the door. The interior landscape was black on black, but now there was something else…a different kind of black and Glaudus felt a small waft on his face. Fresher air. The creak was promoted to a groan and then with an awful noise the door ripped away from the frame. A pause and then a crash as it hit the forest floor outside. Glaudus’ heart pounded hard inside his flabby chest as a new blackness filled the doorway. He saw the movement well enough and whatever it was struggled to fit through the frame, but fit it did and this outsider was now inside the inverted chopper. Glaudus knew that playing possum was probably ineffective now.
“Who’s there?! I’m injured…please help me…” his left handed moved quietly for his gun.
There was no answer but Glaudus had a feeling that his visitor was now moving efficiently down the chopper’s interior.
“I say! Who’s there….come on…Show yourself!!” his hand found his gun and his fingers wrapped around it. As soon as that happened a deep, guttural growl that shook his ribs emanated from the blackness. Glaudus jumped and let the gun go.
“Sorry! Sorry!!” he jabbered. He now knew his guest had either very good hearing, or night vision. He decided that, on the balance of probability, will all the facts to hand, it was probably both!
Something wooden and heavy thumped into Glaudus’ skull and he blacked out into the already black blackness.
Elan awoke, refreshed and ready for what the brand new day held in store for him. He unzippered himself from his bag and his tent. He went to his wash pool and freshened up. He then walked back to his camp and prepared his ‘essentials’ and put them on the sled. He was able to break apart his sled, depending upon load and need. Now he had a sled half its original size and more than double its manoeuvrability. Happy his camp was stowed and making sure the GPS had a lock on it, he pushed the sled out into the forest to begin the hunt. The human made pretty swift progress. In this part of the forest the trees were monolithic, and therefore fairly well spread apart. He walked between these wooden skyscrapers with ease and the vegetation in between was mostly light-starved ferns and saplings that stood no chance of being any much, unless a storm culled one of their ancestors. Elan stopped for some water and took the opportunity to use his digital binoculars. They didn’t find much of interest so he flicked on the small button called ‘Hunchy’. The purpose of Hunchy was to take a guess as to which the best direction would be to find something interesting (the ‘interesting’ part was pre-programmable). It would be wrong to call the process a random guess. In fact, Hunchy had a fair track record for a small micro-chip in some binoculars. In other stories this sort of chip would go on to be the start of a revolution between machine and man; not this story however, I’m afraid. Hunchy remained delightfully happy (in a digital sense) to be in the binoculars. Hunchy guesstimated that Elan ought to head westwards, so he did. By lunchtime Elan had reached some smaller trees and heard the various rustlings of small mammals. He also saw, in a small clearing, a large wild boar. This delighted the hunter, but not because a boar was quarry, oh no. Where there were boars and other mammals there would be creatures to predate them. He slipped off his rifle from his shoulder and checked it over once more. It was fine. He hunkered down in the buttress roots of a large tree and ensured he daubed the exposed parts of himself with Neutrodine, or as Elan liked to call it ‘Stink-be-gone’. Now he waited.
Glaudus woke up having pretty much the total opposite sort of night that Elan had. Luckily for Glaudus he had been spared the worst, slipping in and out of consciousness for the darkest hours. Now he opened his crusted eyes. It was daytime and he was laying on his side. The smell was ‘earthy’. Somewhere close there was a small fire. He tried to move but found himself immobilised. He did his mental checklist. Hands? Bound! Feet? Bound!
“Shit!” he groaned.
It seemed his would be assailant was elsewhere. Glaudus with much effort sat himself up. This alone made his head spin. His left knee was still raging and most of his body was much better having taken a full body plant into a broken windshield and forest floor. Although his hands were immobile, he was pretty sure he now had a fairly large ‘egg’ on his head where he had been unceremoniously struck. He looked around. There was a fire. There was flattened foliage where a second person had slept and there was himself. He briefly thought about standing, but all common sense that a bust up knee would not be improved by a fat bloke bound at hands and feet attempting to wobble around on it until face planting again.
There was a ‘snap’ and Glaudus knew he was not alone. He turned slowly and saw, for the first time, his captor.
“Holy crap!!” he stuttered. A large male felinoid was in the clearing. The fur was dark brown, black in places. A loin cloth covered the bare essentials. Around each ankle was a leather band with large teeth circling them. Same for the wrists. The male was near one eight feet in height, carrying a large spear and, not inconsequentially, staring at Glaudus.
“Why am I tied up? I’m...I’m injured…I need medical assistance! Please...help me!” Nothing in response. The cat did, however, cock his head to one side of its thick muscular neck.
“Medical….Help! For my knee…and head!” he added bitterly. “Oh come on! Oh…wait…you probably don’t speak Common do you…fucking savage!”
The large cat sat cross-legged by the fire and chewed on something red; eyes not leaving the human.
“Well what now?? We cannot communicate and I need help. All you want to do is chew your toe nails and look at me!! Fat lot of fucking good that is!!” he glowered at the cat. This, at least evoked a response.
“Your toe!” he said levelly and with a rich baritone voice. Glaudus was surprised to say the least.
“Excuse me?? My toe?? What does that mean? Oh wait…OK…I’m Glaudus and you must be…Yortow? Correct?”
“No…your toe!” he pointed at Glaudus injured leg and then opened his cavernous, tooth-filled maw and thrust his tongue out, showing the ‘train-wreck’ of red mush. Glaudus looked at the cat’s tongue and then to where it was pointing. On his left leg, where there was a lot of damage he realised, with horror, that his big toe was missing!
- 4
- 5
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Iskaria: The Big Green