Information
NoSleep has a minion!
Etienne the Desert Hopper
Etienne the Desert Hopper
NoSleep
Legacy Name: NoSleep
The
Common Experiment #932Owner:
starlesswinterAge: 14 years, 1 month, 3 weeks
Born: March 2nd, 2010
Adopted: 9 years, 4 months, 3 weeks ago
Adopted: November 25th, 2014
Statistics
- Level: 15
- Strength: 32
- Defense: 21
- Speed: 13
- Health: 15
- HP: 15/15
- Intelligence: 75
- Books Read: 74
- Food Eaten: 0
- Job: Store Manager
... You've been walking through the tunnel for ages, following what you initially thought was the glow of daylight through the exit, but sound behaves strangely here, in the heart of the mountain, and flecks of mica or veins of gemstone reflect the tentative light, yellow this moment, the rich red of wine the next. You've been following the light for hours, having nowhere to go but ahead...
The air is fresher here. A heat oppresses the echoing hollow underground, but there is fresh air, and light, of a sort... a dull golden glow ebbs from somewhere overhead, but from within another tunnel, stories above your head, and at an angle that your neck protests.Thank goodness, you were just beginning to feel claustrophobic, oppressed by the tons of rock overhead. You breath deeply, sucking in the cooler air, eyes scrabbling against the rough rock walls like rats, desperate for the source of the draft. There are noises from deeper within the tunnels, echoing and bouncing off of the numerous offshoots and rifts in the stone, and they're beginning to get into your head.
You trail around the edge of the hollow on a natural ledge of sorts, one hand always gripping the jagged, glittering rock beside you, the other roving for a seam or a crack that may lead to outside of the tunnels. You are alert for any breath of cooler air, so alert that when a gust of hot air explodes against your neck, you let out a guttural shriek. The hair on the back of your neck stands on end as it comes again... it has the rhythm of breathing...
As though possessed, you turn to see what stands a mere breath from your exposed neck, because to resist the urge to look is to go mad. As you turn on one heel, a thousand years creeping by in your dread, you see nothing... and then it moves.
A furry lump descends from the rocky outcropping overhead. You are absolutely bewildered at first, trying to discern what your eye sees, as there is no precedent... your brain reels wildly when you see two discernible wings unfurl, the span of which easily outreach the span of your arms, spread widest. They seem to possess too many joints, flexing liquidly until the shoulders and wrists work in cohesion, and then the claws extended threateningly towards you swivel... to reveal two patches of limpid amber.
The pupils contract, slits like a cat's eyes, and it trills. A tongue, as long as an anteater's, delicately brushes along the conch of your ear, and you yell in alarm, more shocked by the wet invasion than real fear. The trill grows in intensity, and then the mouth of the monster explodes into existence, trisecting it's face. You suddenly realize why there were no eyes, no obvious face... there is simply no room, there is simply the Teeth. Each quadrant is rimmed with teeth, bristling with teeth, and the trill takes on an unpleasant, phlegmy rasp, as though it's choking on the influx of saliva as it considers the savor of your ear wax.
Given no quarter, you turn, intending to... what, inch away, hand over hand? and slam directly into the next outcropping, just slightly overlapping it's neighbor. Your shoulder lights up, a bolt of pain, but it quickly quiets to a whisper as you realize you're turning slightly in the air... the Air... you are slipping, you are falling, you'd vomit if you had possession of your stomach... and as some terrible falls miraculously end, you crash to the soft, lumpy ground, limbs limp with the relief that At Least You Got Away from the Monster... and you are mainly unhurt.
You glance over your shoulder at what broke your fall, and your blood goes cold when you see that it's a pile of toys...Oh God All Those Kids.
But all thoughts of the unexplained child snatchings, which seemed to happen exclusively during "brief moments" of Mother's inattention, as though snatched from above... they are pointless, as the cool green smell of fresh air smacks you in the face.Literally. The wind is rushing into the cave, directly through a rift in the stone, and it is cold. The crack is wider at the top, but easily large enough for your to climb through.You are free. You breathe deeply of the air, and stumble against a ridge of stone, scraping your knee. You press your hand against it, hissing, and decide to beat feet before the creature tries that upper opening, no matter how jagged the edges.
You limp home, too tired to even remember what brought you here in the first place.
But on the way home, the thought Toys... intrudes on your numbness.Followed by the blood-chilling speculation on the sense of smell of a creature that functions mostly sans eyes...
Story by Mesic.
The air is fresher here. A heat oppresses the echoing hollow underground, but there is fresh air, and light, of a sort... a dull golden glow ebbs from somewhere overhead, but from within another tunnel, stories above your head, and at an angle that your neck protests.Thank goodness, you were just beginning to feel claustrophobic, oppressed by the tons of rock overhead. You breath deeply, sucking in the cooler air, eyes scrabbling against the rough rock walls like rats, desperate for the source of the draft. There are noises from deeper within the tunnels, echoing and bouncing off of the numerous offshoots and rifts in the stone, and they're beginning to get into your head.
You trail around the edge of the hollow on a natural ledge of sorts, one hand always gripping the jagged, glittering rock beside you, the other roving for a seam or a crack that may lead to outside of the tunnels. You are alert for any breath of cooler air, so alert that when a gust of hot air explodes against your neck, you let out a guttural shriek. The hair on the back of your neck stands on end as it comes again... it has the rhythm of breathing...
As though possessed, you turn to see what stands a mere breath from your exposed neck, because to resist the urge to look is to go mad. As you turn on one heel, a thousand years creeping by in your dread, you see nothing... and then it moves.
A furry lump descends from the rocky outcropping overhead. You are absolutely bewildered at first, trying to discern what your eye sees, as there is no precedent... your brain reels wildly when you see two discernible wings unfurl, the span of which easily outreach the span of your arms, spread widest. They seem to possess too many joints, flexing liquidly until the shoulders and wrists work in cohesion, and then the claws extended threateningly towards you swivel... to reveal two patches of limpid amber.
The pupils contract, slits like a cat's eyes, and it trills. A tongue, as long as an anteater's, delicately brushes along the conch of your ear, and you yell in alarm, more shocked by the wet invasion than real fear. The trill grows in intensity, and then the mouth of the monster explodes into existence, trisecting it's face. You suddenly realize why there were no eyes, no obvious face... there is simply no room, there is simply the Teeth. Each quadrant is rimmed with teeth, bristling with teeth, and the trill takes on an unpleasant, phlegmy rasp, as though it's choking on the influx of saliva as it considers the savor of your ear wax.
Given no quarter, you turn, intending to... what, inch away, hand over hand? and slam directly into the next outcropping, just slightly overlapping it's neighbor. Your shoulder lights up, a bolt of pain, but it quickly quiets to a whisper as you realize you're turning slightly in the air... the Air... you are slipping, you are falling, you'd vomit if you had possession of your stomach... and as some terrible falls miraculously end, you crash to the soft, lumpy ground, limbs limp with the relief that At Least You Got Away from the Monster... and you are mainly unhurt.
You glance over your shoulder at what broke your fall, and your blood goes cold when you see that it's a pile of toys...Oh God All Those Kids.
But all thoughts of the unexplained child snatchings, which seemed to happen exclusively during "brief moments" of Mother's inattention, as though snatched from above... they are pointless, as the cool green smell of fresh air smacks you in the face.Literally. The wind is rushing into the cave, directly through a rift in the stone, and it is cold. The crack is wider at the top, but easily large enough for your to climb through.You are free. You breathe deeply of the air, and stumble against a ridge of stone, scraping your knee. You press your hand against it, hissing, and decide to beat feet before the creature tries that upper opening, no matter how jagged the edges.
You limp home, too tired to even remember what brought you here in the first place.
But on the way home, the thought Toys... intrudes on your numbness.Followed by the blood-chilling speculation on the sense of smell of a creature that functions mostly sans eyes...
Story by Mesic.
Pet Treasure
Experiment 932 Plushie