LOOK UPON MY WORKS, YE MIGHTY, AND DESPAIR!
Jokes aside, finished my second omake. Got a bit long-winded with this one, and honestly I'm not particularly satisfied with the quality. Probably going to make a lot of edits when I look at it tomorrow. But here it is. Warning to those of a weak constitution, it gets a tad bit gory near the end. Castor has to employ some...creatively brutal methods to bring down his target. Criticism is, as always, much appreciated.
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Teeth in the Dark
Castor Tyndaridae
Thread the bronze filament, tie it off in the simulated copper nerve endings, then connect those to the purified bronze humerus. Insert the end of the humerus into the glenoid, then begin to reinforce the connection with Brass-winged Eagle tendons-
"CASTOR MY BOY! FOUR MONTHS YOU'VE BEEN DOING NOTHING BUT SKULKING AROUND YOUR WORKSHOP! WE NEED TO GET YOU OUT FOR SOME FRESH AIR!" The boy in question swore, just barely suppressing the twitch of surprise well enough to finish soldering the tendon into the glenoid. His work put on hold, the Junior Mechanikos turned to face his senior, schooling his face in polite acknowledgement of the man and concealing his annoyance.
Senior Mechanikos Helios certainly wasn't a bad sort, per say. He was extremely knowledgeable in the field of conversion arrays, and his designs were used all over the Golden Devil territories, converting the heat of the desert that usually had one sweating through their tunic into spiritual energy that could be circulated into other arrays throughout the clan. And with his golden-red hair and beard frizzing out in great bushy waves from his ruddy face, he looked to all the world like a cheerful sun.
But. He was very, very VERY loud. All the time. If Helios had an off switch, Castor certainly hadn't found it yet. In casual conversation he found the Senior Mechanikos tolerable enough, but when he was hounding him almost non-stop, interrupting his research? Just thinking about all the near disasters made his eye twitch.
"I simply wish to perform my duties as a Mechanikos as efficiently as possible, senior." Castor hoped that, like the last four times, that would be enough to dissuade him.
"AND I ADMIRE THAT WORK ETHIC M'BOY, I REALLY DO! BUT-" Damn. "THE PERFECT OPPORTUNITY HAS COME UP TO EXPAND YOUR HORIZONS AS A MECHANIKOS! ONE CAN'T BECOME A TRUE EXPERT WITHOUT SOME TIME IN THE FIELD!" Castor very much disagreed with that sentiment. Surrounded by more resources then he'd seen in his entire life, with Mechanikos centuries his senior who he could call on for questions or advice, Castor felt as if he'd gotten more done in the last four months then he had in years.
Still, he really did need to get Helios off his back. Hopefully performing whatever task the Senior Mechanikos had in mind would get him off his back for a few months, at least. And excessive volume and can-do attitude aside, Helios was considered a genius Mechanikos. Whatever he had in mind, it probably wouldn't be a complete waste. Possibly. Hopefully.
"What sort of opportunity might that be, Senior?"
"I CAN SEE THAT YOU'RE REINFORCING THE JOINTS AND TENDONS OF THAT AUTOMATON OF YOURS! WELL, THE PROTOSTRATOR'S OFFICE HAS COME IN WITH A REQUEST TO WIPE OUT A SPIRIT BEAST THAT'S BEEN WREAKING HAVOC NEAR ONE OF OUR MORTAL HOLDINGS! THEY LACK THE MANPOWER RIGHT NOW, WITH THAT WHOLE TIZZY IN THE SOUTH, SO THEY'VE PUT THE REQUEST THROUGH TO US! YOU'D BE PERFECT FOR THE JOB!
Castor suppressed a groan. A beast suppression task? He'd likely be out of the compound for months just to make the journey there and back, not even taking account how long it would take to hunt whatever creature he needed to find.
The Senior Mechanikos leaned in, nudging the younger cultivator's shoulder in a conspiratorial way as Castor grimaced, preparing for the sensory overload.
"I EVEN HEARD THAT THE BEAST IN QUESTION WAS AN ELASTIC APE! A BIT ON THE STRONG SIDE FOR A FIRST HEAVENSTAGE CULTIVATOR, BUT I'M SURE A YOUNG GENIUS LIKE YOURSELF COULD HANDLE IT! AND I'M SURE YOU KNOW OF THE USES AN ELASTIC APE'S ARM AND LEG TENDONS HAVE!"
Ears ringing, Castor mulled the offer over. It was true, Elastic Apes, despite their relatively weak cultivation, were considered a premier choice for tendons in automatons, especially when preserved fresh after the kill. The Brass-winged Eagle tendons he'd been using were certainly serviceable, but an Elastic Ape's tendons would far outstrip them, in terms of quality. If it would get Helios off his back for a few months as well…
"I'll respectfully take you up on that offer, senior."
"FANTASTIC! I'LL GIVE YOU A FEW DAYS TO GET THAT POLLUX OF YOURS BACK INTO WORKING CONDITION, THEN I KNOW JUST THE CARAVAN YOU CAN HITCH A RIDE WITH! I'LL SEE YOU SOON, YOUNG CASTOR!"
As the Senior Mechanikos left Castor sighed in relief, turned back to Pollux' shoulder to continue soldering. Seemed things would be getting interesting in a couple of days…..
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Castor squinted as the sun shone down on him, sweat dripping from his brow. This had been a mistake. The first few weeks hadn't been so bad. Most of the caravan was made up of mortals, but they were interesting sorts, and in exchange for tales of what he'd seen as an cultivator of the immortal demons, they'd spoken to him of the different places they'd visited.
The depths of the Organ Meat Desert, where the sun glared down even more harshly then here, and vicious beasts could be found in every corner of the wastes, preying on travelers such as themselves. The Hard Shell mountains, with their soaring peaks and vicious avian spirit beasts. One even spoke of the great rolling hills of the Green Scale plains, inhabited by numerous "Righteous" sects, where lupine spirit beasts roamed in great packs, hunting herds of powerful ungulates of all shapes and sizes. A lot of their tales were of near death experience at the claws of spirit beasts, really. Wasn't exactly filling him with confidence, but the stories were intriguing nevertheless.
Eventually, though, people began to grow lethargic. Simply maintaining a decent pace became an exhausting task for the mortals, while the few cultivators travelling with the caravan, himself included, kept a wary eye on the dunes, watching for bandits or spirit beasts.
Already they'd had to repel a flock of Liver-spotted Spirit Vultures, driven by hunger to attack prey that was quite a ways from death, and a swarm of White Jade Scorpions, which had suddenly burst forth from the sands in the middle of the caravan, killing a number of pack animals with their deadly venom before they were driven off. Every day seemed to utterly exhaust him, the constant state of awareness draining all the energy from his body by the end of the day. At home, he would have consumed his resting hours with idle tinkering and maintenance on Pollux, but out here in the desert he had no tools or materials with which to craft that he could afford to waste on anything other then repairing Pollux. The journey had been, simply put, utterly exhausting.
"Ho there, cultivator!"
Turning his attention from the horizon, Castor looked at the mortal that had called out for him. He recognized this one. The organizer of this caravan, a merchant by trade apparently, who'd travelled wider and further then any other in the caravan, a fact clearly highlighted by the deep wrinkles, which seemed to make a map of his face, and his dark tan. Castor dropped down from the top of the caravan where he'd been keeping watch, and walked over to the man.
"You require something of me, oh illustrious caravan master?" Castor sketched a mock bow, grinning up at the man as he did so.
The caravan master just grunted in return, though Castor was sure he saw a gleam of amusement in his eyes for a moment before his face grew grave.
"I need to speak with you in my carriage for a moment, if you don't mind."
The humour began to drain out of Castor's face as well, at that. If something had the man looking this grim then the situation was probably dire.
"Lead on then, if you please."
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After letting Castor into his carriage, a homey little abode lined with all manner of knickknacks, the caravan master seated himself at the table in the center of the space, next to room's only other occupant, a young (looking) woman, her skin somehow milky white despite the desert sun, and clear of any blemishes, her raven black hair cascading down her cream white robes, unstyled and unadorned.
Castor recognized this woman. Before the caravan had set off she'd introduced herself as a member of the Water Mirror Sect, a small sect based near the Northern edge of the Golden Demon territory. They were renowned for their scrying magic and techniques, if he remembered right, and they'd based their sect around a massive, still oasis lake. He'd even heard tell that they performed a massive scrying ritual on the water's surface once every ten years, foretelling their portents for the coming decade.
"Fei Xuan here's been performing a scrying ritual for us every couple of days, keeping an eye out in advance for any major obstacles we might run into." The caravan master motioned to the bowl sat in front of the woman, filled with clear, still water, despite the rocking of the still moving carriage. "Things had been smooth sailing so far….until her scrying ritual yesterday." He glanced over at the female cultivator, and she picked up where he'd left off.
"During my scrying ritual last night, I saw…a river of crimson ichor sweeping away the caravan as a flayed, dancing skin in the shape of a man hid them from a great golden eye in the sky, and…a mouth filled with razor sharp teeth, crunching and gnawing in the darkness the flayed skin cast." The scryer visibly shuddered as Castor considered the strange imagery. He wasn't sure about the flayed skin or the mouth in the dark, but a river of ichor….
"It has to be Blood Path cultivators, right?" Castor looked to the caravan master for confirmation, who nodded in turn.
"That was the conclusion we reached, as well. Fei Xuan has a couple of ideas for how the other images might be interpreted, but she was certain about what the river of blood meant. Which means we'll likely come under assault by some Blood Path cultivators soon."
"Do we have any idea when?" Castor looked to the scryer, who, having recovered from her panicked fit, shook her head.
"The darkness cast by the flayed skin means they'll probably strike at night, but other then that I couldn't say, except that it will be soon."
Castor nodded, turning the information over in his head even as he turned back to the caravan master. "And I assume you've told the other cultivators guarding the caravan already?"
The caravan master nodded again, looking just the slightest bit sheepish this time. "No offense, but well, you being a young lad as you are-"
"I don't take offense, I'm certainly the most inexperienced cultivator in the caravan. It makes sense to inform me last. I guess we're going to be one guard for the next few nights, then?"
"Aye. Can't take any chances, where animals like those Blood Path bastards are involved. We're on full alert every night for the next week. With any luck, they might not be expecting us to be ready for them, and we'll be able to turn the tables."
"Right, I'm going to get a bit of work in on Pollux then. I imagine the sand's gotten into some of his joints." Castor opened the door of the caravan, stepping back out into the desert sun even as the caravan master's parting words drifted after him.
"Best of luck to you, cultivator. Try not to die."
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Bone Crunching Marrow Eater was fucking hungry, in more ways then one. He was sick of wandering around this fucking desert, eating tough, stringy spirit beast meat and hoping that a caravan would finally come their way. He was sick of living in fear of a Core Formation Golden Demon Cultivator or a massive glass spear descending from on high, even if Skin Flaying Heart Eater assured them that his Skin Skein Concealment Technique was hiding them from any Golden Devil Observation Arrays.
And now, with an opportunity to finally kill some Golden Devil cultivators and return in glory, success, and hope that Old Cannibal wouldn't execute him on the spot for siding with Child Corpse Gulper during the civil war, he was getting damn tired of waiting for nightfall to come.
Off to his right, he could hear Heart Eater giggling in his tent, stitching that abomination together in preparation for the ambush, and Marrow Eater gritted his teeth, imagining his Devouring Maw crunching down on the man's bones as he screamed and thrashed in an attempt to block out the maniac's cackling. Just one more day, one more day.
Then…he'd
feast.
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Finally, on the third night after the caravan master issued his warning, the Blood Path cultivators attacked. Castor was watching the western side of the camp the caravan had set up for the night when, from the eastern side of the camp, a cry went up. Castor whipped his head around and, Pollux following close behind, rushed towards the cry. What confronted him as he and the other cultivators that had been accompanying the caravan arrived on the scene was unlike anything he'd ever encountered.
For a moment he mistook it for some sort of spirit beast, a chimera of some sort. Then he saw the stitching. Whatever the monster screeching and bellowing before him was, it wasn't made by natural means.
It's head appeared to be from sort of ram, large, thick horns curling out from the top of it's head as it attempted, unsuccessfully, to gore the cultivators facing off against it. It's torso looked to be made from some great cat, though he saw swathes of scales and feathers here and there, like a poorly patched together quilt. On it's back sat a pair of massive, rotting wings. He couldn't imagine them carrying anything aloft, let alone this great monstrosity, but there they were, flapping and buffeting the surround cultivators with wind. It's arms were scaly, and tipped with razor-sharp claws, though it's swings were slow, clumsy and uncoordinated, and the beast finally ended in shaggy, digitigrade legs, supported by massive black hooves.
The patchwork horror bleated, it's voice a garbled mix of different animal cries at it struck out against it's attackers. It…didn't seem to be doing much damage though. It was large and flashy, in a horrifying way, but it's attacks were slow, and easily avoided. Castor dove in for a strike on the creature himself, planting a fist into one of it's legs as Pollux mirrored him on the opposite side. It's skin felt drawn tight, like he was hitting a drum. No feedback from flesh or muscle underneath, just…skin…
Castor leapt back, screaming a warning, but it was already too late. After a powerful sword swing from Aegean Tabor, one of the two Foundation Establishment cultivators that had been accompanying the caravan, the abomination split open like a balloon, patchwork skin collapsing to the ground as insects buzzed forth in hungry, chittering waves. Cultivators screamed and swatted at the bugs as they bit and stung, and that was when the true attack began.
Blood Path cultivators exploded out of the dunes, cheering and hollering as they fell on the distracted cultivator guards like bloody rain. The first couple of minutes were brutal. The Blood Path cultivators faces were drawn, their limbs thin with hunger, but they fought with a desperation the Golden Demon cultivators struggled to match. One cultivator, his teeth bared in a crazed grin, barreled into Aegean, the two shooting off into the distance to the sound of clanging swords and clacking teeth.
Castor, in the mean time, was struggling to survive. Thankfully only one enemy had singled him out, but as Castor narrowly dodged another slash from the enemy cultivator's saber, he could tell that the swarthy, screaming man was at least a couple of Heavenstages above himself. This was going to be rough. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as the swarm of insects began to form into a solid mass, coalescing into the form of a giggling cultivator, only for an arrows to seemingly sprout from said cultivator's skull. For an instant Castor's hopes skyrocketed, before the head seemed to explode into a swarm of insects again, letting the arrows clatter to the ground before reforming back into a manically cackling face.
Ducking under a swing, Castor was forced to direct his attention back to his immediate opponent, who was still screaming as he swung his saber in a flurry of blows. Quite the set of lungs on him. Castor sent a probing punch at him, which the sword cultivator easily directed upward with the flat of his blade before sidestepping a front kick from Pollux. Damn. His attacks were relentless, but his defenses weren't half bad either. He'd need an opening if he wanted to land a decisive strike.
Spinning out of the way of another thrust, Castor focused his efforts on defense, mind desperately working as he tried to figure out how to land a decisive strike. He'd have to use Pollux and the dart launchers. They wouldn't knock out a Third Heavenstage cultivator like they had Herak, but they'd hopefully disorient him enough to give Castor the opening he needed.
In an instant, Castor stopped his constant retreat, feigning exhaustion and desperation, and launched himself forward. He saw the Blood Path cultivator's eyes widen in triumph as he brought his saber down in an overhand swing, on a perfect path to split open Castor's skull.
Then, Pollux interceded, arm raised in a solid, side-armed block. Castor winced as he heard Soul Steel screech against bronze, saw the blade bite into his automaton's arm. Still, the risk had been a calculated one, and it was already paying off. The Blood Path cultivator struggled to pull his sword from it's temporary sheath, unwilling to abandon his weapon even at the sight of his impending peril, eyes widening instead in panic, now, as he saw Pollux' other arm come up. Then, with a quiet hiss, the dart launcher delivered it's payload in triplicate.
Castor saw his opponent's eyes grow hazy as he swayed drunkenly in place, and charged forward in earnest now. This would be his only chance. One after another, he delivered strikes to every vital point he knew. A fist to the face, a knee to the gut, and even a foot to the groin, much as he was ashamed to admit it, adrenaline driving him to desperation.
He continued the pummeling even as the Blood Path cultivator fell to the ground, thoroughly out of it, and only after he'd thoroughly exhausted himself did Castor straighten up, chest heaving, pupils dilated as he watched his downed opponent for any sign of movement. Finally satisfied that, no, the enemy cultivator would not be getting up any time soon, Castor turned his attention back to the enemy at large.
To his relief, the tide of the overarching combat seemed to be going in much the same way his had. Though frenzied hunger had buoyed the Blood Path cultivators onward in the opening moments of the fight, it had quickly begun to give ground to the bronze discipline of the Golden Demon aligned cultivators, most of whom had simply weathered their enemy's opening barrages before countering after they'd tired themselves out.
The giggling cultivator, too, had begun to look haggard. Whatever trick he had used to avoid fatal damage from the salvo of arrows that the second Foundation Establishment Cultivator accompanying the caravan, Cothus Callivus, had sent his way had clearly tired him out, and in between crazed laughter he could see that the madman was panting, skin streaked with sweat.
The only area in which the battle seemed to be going badly was the battle between Aegean and the unknown Blood Path cultivator. The swordsmen was swinging his sword wildly, desperately warding off his enemy's ravenous pursuit one handed as he cradled his other arm, the stump where his hand used to be periodically squirting blood. He hadn't caught exactly what had transpired there, but from the maw that had opened up in the man's bare chest, which was currently happily crunching away at the pulped remains of what he assumed to be Aegean's hand, he could hazard a guess.
Still, even with his own battle going well, he could see the Blood Path cultivator snarling in rage, as his eyes darted around, watching as his forces were beaten back and killed. Finally, with a howl of hate, he bit out a "RETREAT!" before taking off across the dunes himself. Castor saw Aegean step forward to pursue, face still screwed up in pain, but Cothus sprung to his side, laying a hand on his shoulder to restrain his compatriot even as he waved a medical cultivator over.
Abruptly, the adrenaline seemed to pour out of his veins, and Castor collapsed into a seated position on the sand, thoroughly exhausted. He felt like throwing up. He'd never fought the likes of Blood Path cultivators before and, well, after that experience he wasn't enthusiastic about a repeat. Still, the long night was over, and they could finally rest. Hopefully the rest of the journey would be less eventful.
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The remainder of the trip was, to Castor's relief, much more peaceful, though many of the mortals and cultivators remained subdued, eyes nervously scanning the horizon for any sign of the Blood Path cultivator's returns. Castor, to his own surprise, had been commended for his actions. The cultivator he'd defeated was the only member of the Blood Path to both survive the confrontation and not escape with his leader, and both Cothus and Aegean had spent the remainder of the trip grilling the prisoner on who his leaders were, why they'd been out here, and what their goal in assaulting the caravan had been.
He'd not taken long to crack, and after learning that the band of cultivators were simply deserters trying to get back into Old Cannibal's good graces, the two had become much more relaxed. A report would need to be filed, and a party of Core Formation cultivators deployed to hunt down the remainder of the band, but yet another Blood Path invasion was, thankfully, no longer a concern.
Castor, in the meantime, whiled away the days much as he had before the attack. Pollux took some time to repair, with the cut in his arm, but the limb was back to full working capacity after a week and a half or so of tinkering. After that, Castor decided to set himself to work on a little secret project, inspired by the confrontation with the Blood Path cultivators. Sickening though the leader of the Blood Path band had been, his technique had given Castor an idea for a secret weapon to install into Pollux that might, if his intuition was correct, serve as the perfect means to defeat the Elastic Ape.
Finally, a full month and a half after their journey began, the caravan arrived at their first, and Castor's final, destination: Jade Frog Village
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Jade Frog Village was, all things considered, a remarkably unremarkable mortal village. Situated on the edge of the Hard Shell Mountains, scarcely a hundred meters away from the dense foliage that marked the edge of the Golden Demon's territorial holdings, the village was made mostly from dried, dehydrated logs, roofed with thatch, and built around two main roads that intersected around halfways down their respective lengths to form a cross. The only really notable locations in the village were the town hall, a large, squat building at the end of one of the village's two streets, where the villagers gathered for meetings and celebrations, and the statue for which the village was named. At the end of one of the streets, as the centerpiece for a surprisingly well-made marble fountain, was a sizeable frog statue, made from pure reflective jade.
The villagers had a thousand different stories for how, exactly, the statue had come to be there, but the most generally agreed upon one was that, at some point in it's muddied history, the village had rendered aid to a Golden Demon cultivator, who had repaid them with the fountain and statue. As for whether this tale was true, well, the Golden Demons certainly weren't going to deny it.
Castor, of course, didn't particularly care for any of the town's history. His time there was only a brief stopover, wherein he consulted a couple of the village's more experienced hunters, who stalked the dense canopy of the jungles near the village, as to the possible locations of the ape that had been terrorizing them for the last couple of years.
Information attained, Castor quickly departed the town, Pollux drawing amazed stares from the awestruck villagers as he followed along behind, and made his way towards the jungle. At the very edge, Castor took a deep breath. This hunt wouldn't be easy. An Elastic Ape was an enemy more suited to an opponent multiple Heavenstages above Castor himself, even if the beast had likely grown cocky terrorizing normal mortals. With a sense of finality, Castor stepped over the threshold into the thick jungle, and sighed internally as his foot instantly sank a few inches into the fetid mud with a wet "schlorp". He was going to be cleaning mud out of Pollux's joints for the entire trip home, he suspected.
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Most of the day was quiet struggling through the undergrowth for Castor, even with Pollux placed ahead of him to destroy any offending roots or branches that might block his path. The jungle seemed to possess an almost physical weight, the shrill bird calls and distressing roars of distant beasts seeming to settle on his shoulders like a yoke. If he ever returned he resolved to finder clothing better suited to this environment. His robes seemed to snag on every branch and root, and only a couple of hours after his hike began he was already dripping in sweat. Finally though, just as night began to fall and Castor reached the final location the hunters has outlined as a likely spot for the ape to make an appearance, his quarry revealed itself.
Castor almost jumped out of his skin as, with a loud thump, a large, furred figured drop from the canopy in front of him. He hadn't even heard this thing coming. If it hadn't decided to reveal itself intentionally, well…best not to think about it. He'd have to invest in some sort of sensory technique, at this rate.
As the figure rose to it's full height after it's crouched landing, Castor's eyes followed it up, and up, and up. Geez this thing was tall. It was at least the same height as Herak's Heaven-defying Ogre, maybe even taller, and with it's barrel-like torso it looked to be even sturdier. It's arms and legs, though, were surprisingly lanky. The arms stretched down to it's ankles even at it's full height, and if what he'd read about Elastic Apes was corrected, they weren't even close to their full length at the moment. The ape's entire body was covered in coarse, reddish brown fur, with the exceptions of it's hand, feet, and face. Under the creature's jutting brow, eyes gleaming with cunning sized up Castor and Pollux curiously. He didn't detect a hint of fear there, just the confidence of a predator examining particularly odd-looking prey.
Castor readied himself in a combat stance, Pollux mirroring him a second afterward. The ape was still a few meters away, but he knew that it wouldn't even need to close the distance to strike at him. Still, it's cockiness was an opportunity he could seize. All it needed to do was strike at the right spot, and the trap he'd been preparing since the Blood Path attack would spring.
Castor's thoughts were cut off as, almost lazily, the Elastic Ape threw it's first punch at Castor. Even expecting it, he just barely leaned out of the way as, with a strange hum, the ape's limb extended almost three meters longer, crossing the distance between it and it's target in an instant and narrowly grazing Castor's jaw. This thing was fast, even faster then Castor had expected. He just had to hope that his quarry would fall for the trick. If it didn't….well, losing Pollux would be the best outcome he could hope for.
As the arm snapped back to it's previous length the ape actually had the gall to look offended that Castor had avoided it's punch, looking down it's nose at him for a moment before huffing in annoyance and turning it's attention towards Pollux, evidently deciding to eliminate what it assumed was the easier target first. This was it. All it had to do was throw that punch and Castor would have the opening he needed. He saw the ape wind back it's arm just slightly, it's shoulder tensing in preparation-
Then it paused, and Castor's heart almost leapt up into his throat. Something, he had no idea what, perhaps simply wild instinct, was warning the ape that something was wrong. The huge beast furrowed it's brow as it stared at it's intended quarry, then down at it's arm, still cocked to strike. Confidence and animal instinct warred in it's mind as it considered it's options. Then, with a quiet chuff, confidence won, and it's fate was sealed.
The punch the Elastic Ape threw was a textbook perfect punch. It whizzed through the air, dead centered on it's target's sternum. The ape had no intention of aiming for the head as it had with Castor, and having it's prey embarrass it again. Had Pollux been human, the blow might very well have been fatal. But, with a loud "KACHUNK", the trap was sprung.
The Automaton's sculpted chest split open, exposing it's internals as the two separated halves formed serrated bronze teeth. Then, as the fist soared into the opening that had been revealed, the teeth snapped shut with brutal force, biting in the Elastic Ape's arm and trapping it, even as they began to dig further and further into the fur and flesh.
For just an instant the ape's jaw dropped open in shocked, two rows of yellowed, razor sharp teeth exposed, before the predator shrieked in agony, thrashing and leaping around as it futilely tried to free it's arm from the vise it had been caught in. Pollux was unrelenting, though, heels dug into the ground as his new weapon bit further and further into the Elastic Ape's arm. The Bronze Jaws had been a risky gambit. A bit too slow to snap shut and the ape likely would have hit a vital part of Pollux's internals. Still, the risk had paid off, the ape's attention wholly diverted to the agony coursing down it's arm.
Castor, in the meantime, leapt into action. Wild animal though it was, the beast would likely recover from the pain soon enough to take proper action and free itself, something Castor couldn't allow. With only moments to spare he closed the distance to the Elastic Ape, which remained wholly focused on a level of pain it had never experienced before.
He needed to make this decisive. Punches wouldn't do it, he doubted even a groin shot would. It'd be gruesome, and hopefully something he'd never have to do again, but he knew a way he could end this definitively. Finally arriving in front of the ape, he could see in it's eyes that it was finally beginning to get over the haze of pain, instincts to seek out the threat that had inflicted this injury and eliminate it rapidly reasserting themselves. With an instant to act Castor leapt, straddling the beast's chest as it switched it's attention to him, shock and confusion showing in it's eyes.
Then Castor jammed his fingers into them. Trying to ignore the absolutely repulsive sensation he drove his fingers deeper and deeper, desperately hoping he'd be able to reach his target as he felt the ape's free arm pawing at his shoulder, it's fangs biting into his torso. Then, with another disgustingly wet squelch, it was over. Castor pulled his fingers out of the ape's eye sockets with a pop, landing on his feet with a slight stumble at the it's body slumped over, tension fleeing it's body in the same instant as it's life.
With a wince he prised the ape's jaws apart, freeing them from his torso. That was going to hurt, when the adrenaline wore off. It's arm, thankfully, hadn't gotten a solid enough grip on his shoulder to start squeezing. As he stared down at the Elastic Ape's lifeless body he zoned out for a moment, trying desperately to suppress the memories of that horrible feeling from his fingers as they-"Urp" Castor wretched, tearing his eyes from the ape's body as bile rose in his throat. The ape was a monster, one that had killed and eaten tens, even hundreds of humans. But still, the idea that he'd killed another living thing, snuffed out the light in it's-don't think about eyes, don't think about eyes-body was still making him sick.
For almost an hour Castor stood there, morals waging war against duty and purpose in his mind. Finally, though, resolve hardened, he turned his attention back to the ape's body, eyes carefully averted from it's face. He couldn't exactly dismantle the body here, and even with the assistance of Pollux it'd be a long hike back to the village. The caravan would be passing through again in a couple of months. He'd need to work fast, if he wanted to install the Elastic Ape's tendons and joints into Pollux in time, and already the clock was ticking on the freshness of the materials.
