Chapter 8: Necrochanges
Drops Jaw was in panic mode as his eyes opened to a barren badlands. One blink and the hive was gone, along with the surrounding forest.
'That stranger took it away! We should have never trusted that writhing trickster,' Drops Jaw concluded. Without a hive, Drops Jaw was as good as gone. There were no drones to order and no hope of shelter, as there was no gel to use on all these loose rocks. He was alone for the first time in his life.
Even in his sleep, Drops Jaw was watched by The Night Seers. With everyone gone, it was up to him, and him alone to endure the blisteringly hot sands below his feet, and the morbidly scorching sun that rained down from above, both challenging him to stay: to not lose his mind to the sudden catastrophe. No self-respecting Necrophage would leave a challenge to rot.
As if in response to this commitment, a dark figure made itself known in the corner of my left eye.
"Friend, what are you doing on your own?" Called the figure, clearly unaware of exactly what it was dealing with. He should have known Drops Jaw's name, and that he was not named at birth like himself. Drops Jaw had to earn his name.
In a flash of action, a lot about the figure was reviled to Drops Jaw. Primarily the similarity to his own form: A lower half of four vaguely insect-like legs, connecting to the torso, which leads to two arms, both ending in a three finger hand, and a head atop the torso, much like a human. Instead of reserving a space at the top of the otherwise normal looking face for the eyes, there was a blackened dome cap that contrasted with the fleshy, muted gray of the rest of his body. Much like Drops Jaw, the lower half of the face was humanoid: with a nose, ears, and a mouth. The mouth though, was where the similarities ended. The lower jaw was missing.
The figure brought his hand to his face and let out an inhuman scream as his brain reminded his nerves that he was supposed to have a lower jaw and the pain caught up to him. He quickly dropped to his knees and glared up to see Drops Jaw looming over him with a hand ax stained by a thick, let watery neon green substance. The figure quickly realized it to be his own blood, and his eyes widened with horror.
'How could he be so fast? I didn't even see him swing,' Was the last thing the figure perceived before his skull caved in.
The life faded from the stranger's eyes, and Drops Jaw saw someone entirely different take the place of Drops Jaw's next meal. The shape-shifter was now reviled to be an equine bug, with glassy eyes of solid neon green, similar to the substance staining Drops Jaw's ax and quickly pooling underneath the corpse before him.
Beyond this, the glossy, jet black corps had a protrusion jutting out of the things head in the shape of a solid horn that was slightly displaced when the ax made contact. The corps was small, barely a quarter of Drops Jaw's own height. Transparent Bug wings adorned the area where the loin met the back. All in all, the thing was a much less threatening version of a horse, aside from the fangs that broke up the monotony of the otherwise complete row of molars on the upper jaw. First of all, the eyes were huge given the size of the head, which easily made up a third of its total size. The orientation of the eyes and the vertical height of the head, in general, implied a predatory nature that would allow for some depth perception. However, the muzzle, despite its abnormally small size, would still heavily impair its ability to look down. Another disadvantage to increase the befuddling question: how has this thing not gone extinct?
As Drops Jaw began to feast on the raw cares, he realized that the thing must have been desperately malnourished with a patchy, unkempt mane that dragged as if recently dipped in water. Despite the Writhing Tricksters' experiments, he has never seen anything as extremely starved as to cause the see-through, bug-like wings, and the legs to form physical holes that all lead straight to the other side. The holes were so large and frequent; it baffled Drops Jaw that the thing could even stand to begin with, even without the implied malnourishment.
The shape shifting was a mystery best left to his superiors, and with no sign of them returning anytime soon, that would have to be left unsolved.
However, Drops Jaw did still have a purpose. The Hive might return. He didn't know how, but he was not going to be idle, and preparing for that return was the best use of his time he could think of.
These shape shifters could not be allowed to survive. This one was not a problem, but in all likeliness, this was just a baby and a starving one at that. The older, more successful of its kind would certainly prove more challenging. The Forgotten were already a huge security leak, and the thought of their stealth skills combined with shape-shifting into exact duplicates of overseers made Drops Jaw shudder. This was the first time he was afraid in his life and all because of what had to be a starving infant.
'These things must all die. No Exceptions.'
