First Rodeo

Sawyer - the Scrapper

“This is your first rodeo.”

It wasn’t a question. Sawyer speaks quietly to avoid drawing unwanted attention. Just a few moments ago, the group had been running for their lives. A pack of gigantic, barrel-chested creatures with a mask of dark fur across the eyes was hunting the group. They had caught the scent of the team shortly after slipping through the dragon’s barrier. New to the Wilds, Ash does not recognize the animals’ long snouts and the mask of dark fur across their eyes, and that lack of knowledge added to his fear. Sawyer’s relaxed attitude acted as a sharp contrast to Ash’s panic.

Sawyer leads Ash and the others into a cave that barely fits four grown adults. The mischievous grin that crosses their scruffy face belies the very real danger that surrounds them. Sawyer is a Wyldling, a unique being that occurs when the wild magic melds animal and human. Their lean face is full of dangerous angles. Their form is lithe and athletic.

“Those are coybears.” Sawyer gestures with one hand towards the exit. Their hand is remarkable; the fingernails are long, black, and pointed. Blood drips from one of them, probably from swiping them across the mask of one of the pursuing creatures. “At least that’s what I call ‘em. They’re what happens when wild magic settles in on a canine and a bear.”

Ash brushes a hand across his face in an attempt to wipe away the grime of the panicked run. He nods, still a bit breathless. “First time… yeah…”

Sawyer nods. “We’re safe, for now. Take a few minutes… catch your breath.”

Ash settles against the rough rock and tries to control his breathing. He pauses for a moment to inspect a gash in the back of his calf.

“Shit,” Ash murmurs barely above a whisper. On instinct, he puts his hands on either side of the wound to magically shine some light. Before the crystal rings on his fingers could begin to glow, Sawyer roughly smacks his hands away and thrusts a first aid kit at him.

“Stop squirming, kid. We need to wrap this up before your blood attracts more critters,” Sawyer snorts, as they direct a flashlight on the back of Ash’s leg. “And for chaos's sake, don’t use magic. That only attracts every blasted magic-eating creature outside the six cities.”

Ash grumbles but pulls up his pant leg to wrap his calf with the medical gauze. He glances over towards the cave mouth, where a pair of young humans, Travis and Teresa, prepare what looks like a trap and camouflage netting to cover the cave mouth. Ash’s eyes follow the twins as they do their work.

“They don’t use magic, do they?” he asks as an aside to Sawyer.

Sawyer controls a burst of laughter. “Nah…” They raise their voice just slightly. “Oie, Travis, come ‘ere.” Travis moves over towards Sawyer. With a sudden movement, the predator-touched lashes out towards Travis with a hand glowing with electrical power. As Sawyer’s lightly furred talons close around Travis’ arm, he flinches and swears under his breath. However, no harm comes to the young man.

Travis punches Sawyer. “Stars, Sawyer! I hate it when you do that!” From across the cave, Teresa’s eyes shoot daggers at Sawyer.

Sawyer’s light laughter belies the seriousness of the situation. “The Terrible Twins are Nulls,” they explain. “They suck the magic out of a place. With them around, I can ride under the radar and get what I need done without attracting tunnelers, storm-eaters, coybears, and other creatures who want to eat my magic, or are attracted to it.”

“Once, I traveled with one of those chatty Masques,” they continue. “Nearly had a platoon of draklings on us. You know those magic-eating tunnelers with triple jaws, one reaching out after another. I swear a dragon had a bad dream and sent it out into the Wild. The demicats find the hatchlings of these draklings super tasty. It makes the perfect bait for what we need.”

Lazily, Sawyer leans back putting their feet up on a nearby rock.

Ash’s serious face does not share Sawyer’s light-hearted attitude. “This is a big deal, Sawyer. How can you be so cavalier about all...” He gestures around. “All this?”

The humor drains from Sawyer’s golden eyes. The vertical pupil begins to widen slightly as they become adjusted to the dim light in the cave. “Life is hard, kid. You can’t take anything too seriously.” Sawyer sighs and rubs their stubble-dappled chin. “Look… Life sucks pretty much everywhere. I used to work in Mudslide.” Sawyer holds up a hand to stall Ash’s question. “Yes, Mudslide, sure it’s not the official name. To us real people, it's just Mudslide.

“They’ve got huge factories for building all sorts of technology with assembly lines to create all those huge buildings, vehicles, and other devices you see in the city. They also grow tons of food, make textiles, and so on. Which is great and all… but it's all done on the backs of grunts. Ten-hour days. Seven days a week. In dangerous conditions. You know the noise? It's so loud that most folks go deaf in a year. Some people never hear their kids' voices.

“You would think with all this important work and terrible conditions, that they were compensated?” Sawyer spits on the ground. “Hah! Corps are what they are… money-grubbing ratfinks who only serve themselves and their families. I was working a security detail once, and I found something on the other side of the supply yard unnaturally fascinating as a dozen teenagers ripped off an entire palette of construction materials. I hope they sold those goods and made sure their families could eat for a month. Needless to say, I lost that job. I’m not really great with authority figures.” Sawyer sighs, releasing some of their recalled tension.

“A guy got loud one day and told us we should stand up for ourselves. Surprisingly enough people listened, we had a little riot of sorts. A couple hundred of us stood up from our jobs and were met by a line of armed soldiers. They had guns, we had fists.” Sawyer thrusts a balled-up fist into the palm of their other hand, before their shoulders drop a little. “Needless to say, we didn’t last long. That guy was arrested.”

Ash blinks and leans towards Sawyer a fraction of an inch, enraptured by the story. He barely notices as Travis and Teresa return from laying their traps. The twins rest back to back and seem to doze quietly in a rare moment of respite.

“The next day, he gave a speech, imploring us to stop resisting and get back to work,” says Sawyer, their voice taking a mocking tone before returning to normal. “So most folks did. I had trouble with it though, so I lost that job too. I heard shortly after that he never returned to the assembly line, but I noticed his kid was being transported to the inner city, dressed in a clean school uniform. Someone made him a deal he couldn’t refuse.” Sawyer’s shoulders shrug slightly with a nonchalance that belies the grave implications of his story. “Oh, I don’t blame him. If I had family, I’d probably do the same.” Sawyer pauses, noticing the seriousness in the young faces around them, then smirks slyly and injects a little humor to lighten the mood. “Not that I’d ever weaken myself with family.”

Travis rolls his eyes, as Teresa whispers, “Sure, Sawyer. Sure you wouldn’t want to weaken yourself...”

Whatever else Teresa had to say is lost in a large racket as one of the traps goes off. The twins move from an apparent doze to wide awake on their feet with weapons in hand.

Sawyer grins broadly, rolls their neck, and tells Ash, “Time to earn our pay.”

As Sawyer rises to their feet, claws extend from their hands, and with a high-pitched screech, they launch towards the mass of black, worm-like creatures roiling through the opening of the cave.

Ash’s mind slips to a clinical observation state, a self-preservation tactic he learned years ago. As if outside his own body, he observes the hatchlings slithering forward swiftly. The creatures have a shiny black articulated carapace with hundreds of little legs, each ending with a grasping claw. The eyeless head separates with a triparted jaw, with another snapping mouth and neck within, extending its reach three feet.

Sawyer falls upon the creatures, moving to match their speed. Their screeching battle cry seems to bother the draklings ears. Sawyer’s skills and magic directly counteract the strengths of the draklings. They are the front line, holding back several of the hatchlings alone.

The twins use catch poles, long poles with looped cords on the end, to capture creatures while keeping them from swarming Sawyer. Ash takes the middle position, bashing any hatchlings that get past Sawyer before they can attack the twins.

Sawyer’s voice rings out over the din of alarms and chittering. “Two incoming,” Sawyer yells. “Remember, we need one wriggling!”

The world around seems to slow as Ash’s reflexes speed up. He hefts his trusty baseball bat. The crystals set into the bottom of the bat glow faintly with Ash’s magic. Knowing instinctively that the twins can handle one, he twists to let the first hatchling by, then spins to gain momentum and bring the bat down hard, crushing the head of the second hatchling.

Before he recovers properly, a third hatchling slams into his blind side, sending him out of position. He hits the ground hard but manages to avoid being stunned. However, he loses his calm battle mind, raw panic starts to grip him. Tapping into his attuned crystals for assistance, he accelerates his movements and starts to bludgeon the rogue hatchling over and over. Momentarily deafened by the blood rushing in his ears, he loses track of the battle until Sawyer’s calming voice cuts through.

“Easy kid. You got it,” Sawyer croons like speaking to a wild animal. Coming to his senses, Ash looks up and around. He noticed Sawyer’s claws dripping with ichor, and half a dozen of the hatchlings lay at their feet. Several scratches ooze on Sawyer's face. As Ash studies the veteran, the wounds begin to close slowly.

Ash grins sheepishly as his crystals slowly dim.

“We got one!” Travis shouts. He and Teresa both hold onto a pole with the squirming, wriggling drakling in the loop at the end. Sawyer strides over and picks it up, shoving it roughly into a sack.

Ash watches with trepidation. “Why do we need demicats anyway?”

Sawyer smirks. “You know what a radrat is, right?” Teresa and Travis start packing up their gear silently, letting Sawyer take lead on the explanations.

Ash nods, “Sure… they sneak in through the sewers and spread plague and radiation disease through the city. The news said they’re working on a cure.”

Sawyer scoffs, “Cure… Sure… for those with connections. It’s another way for those corps to put money in their pockets.” Sawyer pauses to make their disdain for the corps completely clear. “That’s not what we’re doing. We want to build a healthy demicat population in Undertown.” Sawyer shakes the sack a little and the creature inside squirms. They grin maliciously. “Demicats hunt extremely dangerous creatures, including radrats. The Wild Storm gave them resistance to the plague and radiation, and heightened senses. They are kind of amazing creatures really.” Their voice takes on a fond tone as they describe their ultimate prey. “I’d probably own a dozen if they were tamable.”

Travis snickers, “You’d definitely be an old cat hoarder.”

Sawyer playfully smacks Travis off the back of the head.

“Good work, kids. Now let's go get us some demicats.”

With that, the four hunters move deeper into the tunnels in search of their elusive prey.