ORIGIN - [M] You're Gonna Break

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Booker breathed, shaky, stared at the jaguar, opened his mouth to speak again - but Diot stepped in front of him, long tail looping around one of his forelegs, vines bursting forth from the ground to wrap around the attacker's legs. Barnett let out a whoop of victory, grinning, sharp-edged and mean. "Hell yeah! Nice work, kiddo," he murmured, patting the tamarin on the back with a lightly toasted paw. The cat seemed majorly peeved, but the vines held, and the numbat focused, shook free of Diot's hold and stepped around him, coming just close enough to their foe to be out of his range. "Now you're gonna stop that yowling and explain what the hell you're doing here," he growled out, teeth snapping.

Spores prickled to life, rooted in skin and fur, began to sprout, growing into mushrooms of all shapes and sizes. Most of them ended in round, encapsulated tops, and Barnett grinned, success warming him, making him stand up on his hind legs and point, looking down his snout at the captured beast. Power fueled his words, anger and fear and cycles of being beaten and scarred. "So we could do this the easy way, but I'm not a nice guy, so we'll do it the hard way." He shook once, deliberate, and the mushroom tops burst, spraying their spores into the jaguar's face. The scribe didn't much care what they did, as long as the animal stayed down.

"Diot, stay back so you don't inhale anything. He'll talk..." Fire flared in his blood, licked at his paw pads. "Or I'll make him."

ROUND: 2 / 5
ATTEMPT: Stinkhorn him!
DEFENSE: None. Well, he's tiny and mildly fast. (That doesn't count.)
INJURIES:
- Electrical shock

His vines has worked much better than he could have hoped! Especially since they were just juveniles and their target was very large. The large beast of a feline had collapsed, but that hadn't stopped its fiery attitude. It thrashed, attempted to break free. Screaming incomprehensibly at the father son duo. Diot couldn't tell if they were more fearful or enraged. Which ever was the answer they must have been feeling a tremendous amount. So much in fact they were spitting up their own blood in this fit. Booker had given his son a whoop of victory! Praising him on the nice work before approaching the aggressor. Both the numbat's and the cat's teeth snapping at one another.

Booker had exchanged dialogue with the jaguar, even though it remained fairly one sided. Obviously growing tired of the cat's games he sprouted mushrooms of his own. They were rather peculiar, Diot hadn't seen mushrooms like those. With a quick shake his father had popped the tops of his own mushrooms. Sprewing a cloud of spores from his own hide into the jaguar's face. Diot did as instructed and kept a safe distance, still coaxing the vines to keep a strong hold on the cat. Absent mindedly stroking the still coiled millipede he held in his arms.

ROUND: 2/5
ATTEMPT: More vines! YAY!
DEFENSE: None
INJURIES: None

"Speech"

Rolling to see what fate has for Vicktor(fate is being AWESOME, get rekt vicktor!!)

They were already celebrating when these annoying vines dragged him down. Whoops of joy and praise spread around, all Vicktor could do was snarl, spitting out incomprehensible speech. He had known them, hadn't he? His bone white eyes were bouncing between the two, only focusing on Booker once he approached. Vicktor snapped at him, attempting to thrust his jaws closer. Perhaps he could scare him? Make him run? Nothing, the numbat stood there, fire boiling his fatherly blood.

'Now you're gonna stop that yowling and explain what the hell you're doing here'

Vicktor's pinpoint pupils were practically vibrating, breathing violently through clenched teeth he watched the numbat. He would not answer Booker. Any attempt at communicating with Vicktor would spiral into a torrent of incomprehensible speech and loud wailing. Aparantly Booker didn't appreciate that choice, growing peculiar mushrooms along his coat in retaliation? How were mushrooms going to scare him!? It wasn't until they opted for the hard way and popped the mushroom caps. Spore flying into Vicktor's face. His heaving breathing made it easy to obtain more than enough of the rancid smelling spores. The father warned the son to stand back, to not inhale. Shit...this wasn't going to be fun. He could already feel the wave of nausea and discomfort radiate through the white noise of adrenaline.

More vines grew over his limbs, this was more than aggravating. Why wouldn't they just run!? They were risking their lives confronting him! Vicktor froze, he held his breath. A another mounting wave of nausea hit him. Coughing up ichor he stared at Booker, only to vomit towards and possibly all over the tiny gembound. A hot putrid mixture of bile, ichor and partially digested bits of a meal long past splattered against the snow. Vicktor was not having a good day...he barely had to strength to attempt breaking these vines again. Barely able to speak through the nausea and mounting headache.

ROUND: 3/5
ATTEMPT: He tries to break free!?
DEFENSE: None
INJURIES: Headache
-Mild Nausea
-Broken tail [Previous]
-Large hole under and near his lower rib(s) [Previous]
-One cracked rib(lower right) [Previous]
-One broken rib(lower left) [Previous]
-Talon tears down and across his left shoulder [Previous]
-Burnt haunches(2nd degree) [Previous]

"Speech"

"Thought"

@Booker

More vines sprouted to hold the cat in place, and Booker sneered for a moment, victorious, watched the thing inhale spore after spore. They worked fast, the jaguar heaving up blood, and the numbat took a step back, flinching. "Now wait just a second ther-" A veritable fountain of bile followed his words, covered his back paws up to his haunches, and Barnett shivered, snapped. "I swear to the All Mother herself," he muttered, hands shaking as he grimaced down at the mess. No use in moving now - the damage was done. He'd probably smell like overgrown kitten vomit for days.

"Can't even pass out right. Hey, you, why don't you start with your name. Can you do that? Huh? Preferably without vomiting all over me?" Feverish fire burned in his veins, aching to make its way out, and thought a few tendrils licked at his palms, the spell stayed dormant. "Diot, keep it tied down," he called over his shoulder. "The spores might weaken, but they don't incapacitate." Barnett focused back on the cat, glaring. "Now talk. You're hurt, I get it. But you don't get a free pass to fuck with my son!"

ROUND: 3 / 5
ATTEMPT: Light paws on fire, for intimidation. #yolo
DEFENSE: None
INJURIES:
- Electrical shock

@Vicktor @Diot

Booker was more than annoyed, Vicktor was beyond that already. They both stood there before him, his friends, his family! Staring at him as a monster, as some sort of knavish gembound!! He was glad he had thrown up, it only seemed to infuriate the numbat more. Good, maybe they would leave, let him go free and scream till his very lungs collapse. The young jaguar felt too ill now. Still waves of bile erupted from his throat. Coughing up blood as he lay there trapped by the young tamarin's vines.

Perhaps he could try to free himself again...he could only flex his claws, sheathing and unsheathing into the moist soil below. Booker had begun to speak to him again, only now a sneer crawled across the jaguar's face. OH he understood did he!? Did he really think he would hurt his son!? His own friend Diot!? He knew NOTHING. He couldn't even recognize Vicktor! Claws unsheathing he gripped the soil, unleashing a fury of thoughts that for once could be well understood. Emphasizing every syllable, each word scorching hot from the fire he grew deep inside.

"You understand NOTHING! TO THINK, others have called you FRIEND! You cant even recognize one gembound from another! And you stand here before me!? You, BOOKER are the knavish one!" Only this feat of communication quickly diminished. His screams of betrayal and anger flashed into those of excruciating pain. Shrill yowling, he could not thrash from the vines, only stay hunkered down against the earth for now.

From his throat and eyes a white-hot glow emerged, chased immediately by fire itself. His throat seemingly erupted magma, pooling and scorching the soil and plant life as he heaved. The surrounding vines quickly began to wilt under such conditions. He was burning up, and fast, only to stand on his own four feet.

White hot, screaming at both the tiny gembounds, his former friends.

ROUND: 4/5
ATTEMPT: FREE HIMSELF???
DEFENSE: None
INJURIES: Migraine
-Extreme Nausea
-Burnt mouth(3rd degree)
-Broken tail [Previous]
-Large hole under and near his lower rib(s) [Previous]
-One cracked rib(lower right) [Previous]
-One broken rib(lower left) [Previous]
-Talon tears down and across his left shoulder [Previous]
-Burnt haunches(2nd degree) [Previous]

"Speech"

"Thought"

It didn't matter to Diot if retreating farther back with his father would be considered gutless. It was better to be alive and well than dead with an inscription of 'Bravely Died' across your grave. Diot already had one null grave, he really wasnt looking to add another one next to it. Let alone a real one. Though it all had happened so fast, he may not have a choice. With the effects of the spores and the large cat's violent reaction to them. They were still throwing up, seemingly about to give up even! Until Booker said 'something' that stirred up a violent reaction from them.

When the cat began to scream, coherent words for the first time Diot could only recoil. Each syllable was dripping with the fire that soon erupted from them. He would have called it poison, except this was far worse. This was something unlike anything he had ever seen. The shrill yowl that erupted, the heat that radiated through this cat killed the vines he had called forth. Their aggressor was now free, screaming in agony before them. Magma pooling around its ebony paws. There wasn't a doubt in the young tamarin's mind that they would be the ones screaming next.

Reaching out he pulled his small father toward himself, backing up and giving the large black cat space. Staying far enough away, should the scorching bile he had be thrown towards them, they would be out of harms way.

ROUND: 4/5
ATTEMPT: Grab father and back up!?
DEFENSE: None
INJURIES: None

"Speech"

(wow my muse for this was really rekt...)

Fur rippling, Barnett only chattered back when the cat began to screech, finally giving some kind of reply. Not that it was much of one, anyway. The numbat bared tiny teeth, digging into decayed and shrouded memory for a stronger hint of who, exactly, the bloodied beast was. Black cat. Black cat. Where the fuck do we know a big black cat from? I dunno, Barn, but you better figure it out quick, or he's gonna be lunch, Booker whispered inside, wrenching control from Barnett enough to stumble back as the jaguar burned, taking to his feet.

Well.

That just wouldn't do.

Booker glared, jaw snapping as boiling flames erupted from his palms, licked at fur and flesh. Hands clenched into fists, unclenched, rose as the scribe steadied himself on his back legs, the weakened thigh trembling. Books, what the hell are you doing? No, don't answer that, just let me look dammit, don't throw our body away to fight some weirdo who thinks we've me- Booker blinked, ears twitching, eyes steady on the cat but feet shifting uneasily. Barnett? Books, he's right, we have met, it's Clover's kid, the little cub, and he could see it, could almost feel the plush fur instead of the snowy ground.

He could've died back then. Lured in by a friendly voice and a story of friendship, family. Booker snarled, fierce and grieving, for what he couldn't pinpoint. A chance. A child, corrupted, turned into an out of control monster.

"Vicktor." The numbat's voice was cold, wavering, venomous. "Oh, I remember ya now. What ruined you? Hm? What excuse are ya gonna throw out next?" He coughed out a laugh, stepped back again, fire wavering and the air filling with the acrid smell of burnt fur. Diot pulled him closer, and Booker maneuvered in front of the tamarin, the flames knowing better than to taste the orange-brown fur. "Cry me a river, kid. Either calm down or I'm gonna make ya calm, and All Mother bless me I'm gonna have a party doin' it."

ROUND: 4 / 5
ATTEMPT: Summon flames
DEFENSE: None
INJURIES:
- Electrical shock
- Surface burns on paws [self-inflicted]

They only retreated from him, backpedaling away from the scorching bile and ravenous flames he spat. Vicktor had no idea how fire erupted from him. He was only a wielder of electricity, or so he thought. But now he was spatting out white hot bile, fire searing his throat with such heat. Where his electricity made him numb and posed little threat to himself, this could kill him. He was terrified. Thoughts haphazardly raced through his mind, many incomplete. But he focused on the flickering flames that stood before him. The flame that danced across the numbat's palms. Booker rose up to him, challenging the jaguar.

"Vicktor."

He was completely focused on his old friend now. They remembered? The large feline seemed about ready to throw himself down, to relax. Especially since they recognized him right? Wrong. He was only greeted with a cold demeanor, stabbing words that dripped ignorance. Vicktor snarled. Excuses? EXCUSES!? He wished he could rattle the tree tops with his screams. How could they!? Didn't they recognize him? Know that this wasn't who he truly was!? No? Well, it wasn't surprising, not anymore. This battle started flooded with confusion, and it would end as such. Haphazardly strung thoughts that remained clouded by judgment deemed it a great tactic to launch himself at the numbat. To bite at his hindquarters, or anything he could get his jaws on. This would make him leave? It would end this right? Well it would, one way or another.

ROUND: 5/5
ATTEMPT: Bite at him! Shut him up! Make him run!
DEFENSE: None
INJURIES: Migraine
-Extreme Nausea
-Burnt mouth(3rd degree)
-Broken tail [Previous]
-Large hole under and near his lower rib(s) [Previous]
-One cracked rib(lower right) [Previous]
-One broken rib(lower left) [Previous]
-Talon tears down and across his left shoulder [Previous]
-Burnt haunches(2nd degree) [Previous]

"Speech"

"Thought"

Unfortunately, it seemed the whole 'calm down' request hadn't gone through, considering the jaguar was once again tensing up, unhinged fury lighting his eyes. "Diot, get back!" An elbow shoved back into the tamarin's chest, only inches clear of the impact as the cat leapt forward, maw gaping open, and Barnett had time to let out an angry, outraged screech before one of the thing's massive saber teeth pierced his bad leg, thankfully not going straight through, caught up in scar tissue and old broken bone. Too angry and pained for words, the numbat simply gasped out strained breaths, eye twisted into a hateful glare, flaming hands thrust forward towards the cat's muzzle.

He'd be damned if the thing got away without a brand, something the thing could carry with it, a mark to others - this one is damned, run while you can. "You're gonna pay for that you big sacka shit!" Screeching, the scribe writhed in place, not daring to look towards Diot lest he find the tamarin flattened beneath their massive foe. The leg. It had to be the leg. Why does everything want to eat my legs?

ROUND: 5 / 5
ATTEMPT: Slap Vicktor with flame hands
DEFENSE: None
INJURIES:
- Electrical shock
- Surface burns on paws [self-inflicted]
- Puncture wound to damaged leg

Diot was focused entirely on the cat before him, the flaming bile dripping down his fangs and pooling to frozen ground below him. The young tamarin was locked in, frozen, watching with horror even now. They needed to leave, they could reach safety he was confident! He could lead his father up a tree high enough, it would work! It would have to! That was until Booker walked out in front of him. Challenging the unknown cat, flames dancing around his own paws in retaliation. This was perilous! This was practically suicide to challenge this enemy now! They needed to get out of here, he could feel something was going to break, and he rather it not be any of them.

"Vicktor."

Booker spoke out a familiar name, one of a young jaguar. He could practically feel that familiar ebony fur that was softer than the very shadows of the forest. No, this couldn't be him!? What happened!? Vicktor was standing before them, broken and bleeding and boiling with hate and anxiety. Diot felt so broken watching his old friend driven to the very edge. No, they had to help him! He was afraid, confused! Just like he was as a child up in the trees! They could still help him, right!?

Diot couldn't stop Booker's words. He couldn't take them back, or the pain that Vicktor felt from them. He was already on the edge, and now here he was taking a leap towards them. "Diot, get back!" Booker had shoved him back, elbowing him into the snow. Collecting himself he attempted to scramble far enough from Vicktor's path, screaming out for his father to follow. Only to turn and see him caught in Vicktor's jaws. His lame leg gripped tight and the numbat screeching as fire rolled across the jaguar's face. Diot could only scream, his powers overwhelming into a flat line of answers. He could only scream, cry out for Vicktor to let him go. Until he thought what would stop himself. With a deep breath he screeched towards them.

"VICKTOR! WHAT WOULD CLOVER THINK"

ROUND: 5 / 5
ATTEMPT: Summon SOMETHING!?
DEFENSE: None
INJURIES: None

"Speech"

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