The Artificer struggled to stand, so they settled to crawl.
They had been foolish and bold, and they had paid the price, dearly.
Food had been steadily growing scarce for many rains before, and even just this past cycle they had only found enough scraps to settle into their deep, mechanical burrow thin and hungry, ensuring their survival through their long slumber.
They knew they would awake starving… And foolishly, they had assumed that there would be some stray bounty awaiting them once the skies cleared, new hanging fruit, ripe and sweet? A popcorn plant just waiting to be cracked open?
But no…
There was no bounty to greet them, no new wordly spoils to fill the gaps between their ribs.
Desperation drove them into new, uncharted territories not their own.
They were used to the sheer height and winding interiors of the stone jungle they had claimed for themselves. Back when food was plentiful, they would roam their land freely though of course with caution, they were quick and clever, but small.
They would forge for sweet berries by the deepest wells, despite how the water burned their skin if they were not careful. Grapple along sheer walls to snatch hanging fruit and the occasional Noodlefly Pod. They would chase batflies through dilapidated hallways, and slurp centipedes from the cracks in the foundation.
They knew their land well, they knew every passage and hiding place, every danger.
The stone jungle had been their home for many, many cycles. But no longer it seemed…
Something in them yearned for the cool winds which would sweep through their abode, for the highest rises and breath stealing views…
The shallow, stagnant pools of cess they were forced to wade through were not home.
The wasteland they had stumbled upon may have once been grand, but all that lay before them now was a sunken metropolis of submerged passages built from the rubble of ages long past...
But there was food, food and shelter.
They were not happy there, but they could survive…
Perhaps one day they would return to their stone jungle and thrive once more… But then and there, they had to make due, no matter the perils, they would survive, they would overcome...
They, The Artificer, was a strange creature.
They would be the first to admit that, though they knew quite well that every creature, dull or otherwise, knew it as well...
There was something wrong and strange about them, that was undeniable, not many creatures knew exactly what about them made them so… Strange.
Perhaps it was due to the thick scent of ozone and burning which clung to them like a second skin. The sharp cracks of ignition as fire bloomed from their paws to set them alight.
Perhaps it was their ferocity and fearlessness, the roaming lizards which dwelled across all lands were not used to their prey fighting back, and many other beasts which resided in the stone jungle were not accustomed to being hunted by such ravenous foes.
Perhaps it was simply… Them. Them, with their mangled face and seard skin, their fangs, their claws, their scar smeared carmine complextion which spoke of victories and violence…
But the others did not know, could not know… All they knew was what they had seen, and in the grandest of perspectives they had seen very little.
There was a fire in their belly, a burning sun which demanded and consumed and ravaged all they could offer and demanded more. And that burning sun bled, bled out into the rest of them.
There was starlight in their veins.
They were most unlike their Denmates and even stranger than their Denmakers.
Their Denmakers were simple, not dull, but simple. They held true to methods that had yet to fail without straying from the long beaten path.
They were nothing like their Denmakers. Their Denmakers who were soft skinned and light, pastel hues of sky and earth, gentle and warm, who could not understand their ravenous appetite.
Their Denmakers had no suns in their bellies, no starlight in their veins.
Their Denmates were likewise simple, simple as their Denmakers, soft as their Denmakers. They recalled their Denmates and Denmakers with fond detachment…
They had many Denmates, or at least they did, they had no idea how long they had been away from the First Den, how long it had been since they had seen their Denmakers and Denmates.
All they knew was surviving…
It was all they could do...
Some part of them longed to return to their First Den, but knew that in a way, their Denmates were better off without them. They would only demand more and more from their Denmakers, if only to satiate the burning sun within them for a while longer.
Their Denmakers had more than enough to worry about…
They did not need to concern themselves with feeding a-
Some loose rubble slipped out from under their foot and The Artificer stumbled, crying out as their injured leg scraped against the jagged debris of the cave and tore open once again.
Starlight swelled from deep-set punctures scattered across their leg and spilled across the ground. A thick, putrid haze rose from where the liquid starlight caressed the earth, burning whatever it touched until all that remained was black and tar.
The Artificer grinned grimly. The lizard who had been so bold to dare try and sink its fangs into them was surely paying the price.
Their starlit blood was as ravenous as the sun in their stomach. Burning, consuming, demanding...
But defeating the enemy did not always mean that you won the war… The Artificer was gravely injured, they knew this… They were hungry and hurt and cold and helpless…
The sun in their belly demanded sustenance, and they were not the kind to simply wait for death to come for them, oh no, they may have been dying, but they were not weak.
They would continue, slowly, slowly, until they either bled out or the rains came.
But they would not die idle and weak.
So, once again, they rose, a tortured wail escaping their lungs as the blackened tar their starlit blood had scorched around them clung and tore from their skin.
They resolved to keep their wounded leg well off the ground as they began to crawl down the slope of the cliff they had been traversing.
Their leg throbbed as their starlight blood spilled from the deep teeth marks, rolling down their thigh to dribble across the ground as they walked, scorching a trail of tar and ash in their wake.
The word was becoming unfocused and hazy around them, blurring to mere smears of color, a very poor prospect for The Artificer. Their head throbbed, they ached, their chest burned.
There was a light at the opposite end of the wide open cavern they found themselves in, they could only see the light, anything else between them and their destination was a part of the haze.
The air was stale and bitter across their tongue, it hurt to breathe but that hardly mattered… Once they reached the surface they could find something to eat, they could keep going, they-
A spear, long and slender embedded itself into the rubble ground right by their paw, dislodging the surrounding earth.
The Artificer fell, tumbling down the slope gracelessly.
They cried out in pain as they landed on their bad leg, their blood burned the ground beneath them, reducing the debris to blackened tar and foul air.
High, chittering voices approached as The Artificer tried once more to rise, they knew those voices, loathed those voices.
Scavengers were fickle creatures, not dull or senseless like lizards or vultures, but smart, dangerously so.
They hunted and moved in packs, they fought with spears and explosives, firecracker flowers and stones.
They knew that The Artificer was a strange thing, a dangerous thing, and wisely, they chose to fear The Artificer.
This brought on many problems for The Artificer however…
The Scavengers may have feared them, but the Scavengers were neither dull or cowards. They feared The Artificer yes, but they were also smart, smart enough to know that they had an advantage over The Artificer.
An Advantage that they used often.
Numbers.
One or two Scavengers were only as dangerous as their aim, but a whole pack? They could drive The Artificer well away.
Unfortunately, there would be no running for The Artificer now, not with how their leg burned and bled and burned.
Still, The Artificer bared their teeth and snarled at the surrounding Scavengers, daring them to come closer.
Despite the fact that there was nothing in their stomach but the sun, and nothing around them for them to consume and transform and use.
The surrounding Scavengers all bore spears, some tipped with the dust of crushed firecracker flower petals, some not. They all looked and watched The Artificer, eyes wide and curious in alarm, spears at the ready.
The Artificer continued to snarl until their voice grew quiet and hoarse, they kept their fangs bared even after their voice failed them, warding the crowd back.
It wasn't until the Scavengers all parted that The Artificer realized how desperate their situation was…
Scavengers typically preferred to throw spears first, ask questions never. Fear had set logic on the backburner, but now seeing who approached, The Artificer did not need to pause and ponder why they were still alive…
The Scavenger who came to crouch just before The Artificer was large and horribly familiar.
His hide was dark, dark, so dark that in the correct lighting he would not appear at all, but there, he was inky blue, dark as night, uncommon for the Scavenger in and around the wasteland The Artificer had found themself wandering.
The Scavengers of the wasteland tended to be pale, dull and muddled with very few distinguishable markings of any sort, perfect for blending into the fields of debris they called home. Those unfortunate enough to be born with such vibrant pelts were often snatched away by soaring Vultures as they roamed.
But he… He was not from the wastelands. No he was of the dark.
The looming stone jungle The Artificer once called their own fed out to a very, very dark place…
No light bled through the stone, no sun, no stars… Just… Dark.
The creatures in that dark place were vicious and terrifying, designed to survive in such hospitable hellscapes whereas The Artificer was not.
The Scavengers of that place were strong and fast and very accustomed to traversing the darkness.
The Artificer had wandered into that dark place by accident during a long cycle and fled soon after, but not without bloodshed.
They had run into a Scavenger out on the bridge leading into the Shaded Citadel, the Scavenger had seen them as a threat and attacked.
The Artificer had defended themselves and emerged victorious.
Only once the lone Scavenger fell did the rest of it's tribe emerge from the stonework.
The Artificer fled, but not fast enough to escape the anguished howling of one, lone Scavenger grasping the corpse they had left in their wake.
The Artificer returned to their stone jungle and carried on, surviving through the cycles just as all creatures did. But now with the rain came the howling… Deep inside their head did that scream echo, a terrifying, mourning bellow of rage and loss.
The Artificer decided forever ago that they were to never venture to that dark place. Only death awaited them there, that they were sure of…
But it seemed as though death had been searching for them.
The lone Scavenger looked down at The Artificer through a mighty vulture mask, the mask of a King, with both harpoons mounted on either side… The very same mask the old Scavenger on the bridge had worn when The Artificer had felled them…
The Scavenger's eyes were iridescent compared to the rest of him, they burned like fire within the mask, bright with wrath and fury.
His ears were pointed and barbed with hoops and other oddities pierced through his flesh, they fanned out on either side of his head, obscured by the mounted harpoons attached to the mask, but attentive nonetheless.
His claws were sharp and long and durable, The Artificer could easily imagine them shredding flesh and rending muscle from bone.
The Artificer wondered if the Scavenger would roar as ferociously if their starblood began to burn his flesh…
The Dark Scavenger reached up and removed a single harpoon from his mask, drawing it to point down at The Artificer… It's tip sharpened and well tended to…
The Artificer wished not to die an idle death, had they could, they would have continued to drag themselves across the wastelands until their last breath…
But this was not to be an idle death no, this was a deserved death…
The Artificer looked up at the Dark Scavenger before them… Fire and venom burned in his eyes, his chest heaved, his knuckles faded pale his grip so tight around the harpoon…
The Artificer bowed their head and laid themselves down, offering their throat and belly with little more than a placated sigh…
Their bad eye rested against the ground, their good eye stared straight ahead. They did not want to see the Scavenger raise his weapon, they did not want to see their guts and gore spill…
But their death would not be swift.
A large, taloned paw wrapped around the back of The Artificer's neck where they lay before hoisting them up into the air, they must have screamed as the congealed tar surrounding their leg tore away.
Their voice flew through the cavern as their thoughts retreated into their skull.
They awoke in a familiar, though unrecognizable burrow.
A deep, mechanical den, the very same they would seek out so often to hide from the rains. A narrow passage led out to somewhere unknown, but from the faint call of Scavengers scurrying about out of eye sight, the Artificer could assume that they had been taken back to the Scavenger Stronghold…
A very unprosperous situation indeed…
Another notable difference between the mechanical den the Artificer found themselves in and others They had stumbled across during their travels was the apparent attempt to remodel the shape of the den.
It seemed as though someone or something had taken a great amount of time clawing at the walls to widen the den and heighten the ceiling, grooves had even been carved out of the walls, allowing strange, vibrant stones to sit and glow, illuminating the large den...
The Artificer tried to have a better look around, preparing for the ache of their injuries to reignite as they rose… Only to find that they were unable to. As they tried to move their limbs into position, they found themselves bound with dried reed rope, securing The Artificer in place, allowing them to raise their head and look around but their limbs, nothing.
Irritation, rather than fear, churned in their starlit veins but strangely, also a small sense of relief as they found their leg had been tended to… Not as they would have tended to it, but… Well enough.
They could feel the bindings surrounding the wound, their leg throbbed in time with their heartbeat, but other than that, there was little pain.
The Artificer looked about what little of the burrow they could, twisting their head around carefully… They found themselves atop a flattened patch of earth, cushioned by a plush layer of dried water weeds and other softer materials.
The weeds were molted black in some places, most likely as a result of the Artificer's starlit blood, but at the very least, the binding around their leg seemed intact so said bleeding had been tended to…
Just above the Artificer's head sat a grove in the wall holding a Glow Stone, it gave of a dim orange glow, but no warmth, a fascinating thing, the Artificer would have been very tempted to eat it, just to see what the sun in their bell would make of it.
At the opposite end of the den was a far larger nest, consisting of a soft dip in the ground filled to the brim with soft materials, pelts, plants, leaves, whatever else could be used to make a nest.
Between the Artificer and the nest, along the wall, sat another strange arrangement of spears and handmade Cherry Bombs, unlike the Cherry Bombs the Artificer was capable of producing, but just as capable.
It was also then that The Artificer noticed that they were not as alone as they once thought…
The Dark Scavenger sat against the wall beside them, motionless, watching, not close enough to touch… But too close for comfort regardless…
The Artificer growled at the sight of the Scavenger, their ears flattening against their skull as their lips curled back to show their teeth, the sound to crawl from their throat was less of a growl and more of a desperate wheeze however, their throat was still horribly tender from the previous day.
The Dark Scavenger stared down at the Artificer for a moment, waiting for the smaller creature to cease their hissing, when however, the Artificer stole another breath to replenish their lungs for another round of snarling, the Dark Scavenger flexed his claws in warning.
No words were exchanged, but the message was clear and the Artificer soon silenced their snarling, though they refused to turn away from the larger creature, staring up at the Dark Scavenger through the holes in his King Mask.
Only when the Dark Scavenger made a move to approach did The Artificer break eye contact.
It was weakness, they knew well, to hide ones eyes from an opponent.
Despite their unwillingness to die idle, The Artificer truly did fear death… Death and pain, two things that the Dark Scavenger seemed more than capable of providing.
Still, The Artificer looked away, the ropes holding them in place pulled taught as a sudden primal panic overtook them.
The struggle ended with The Articider once again bearing their throat where they lay, panting and afraid… Waiting for those claws to gore them...
But all the Dark Scavenger did was set a hollow centipede shell before them… There was water in the shell…
The Artificer stared at the offering, baffled by the gesture…
The sun in their stomach and starlight in their veins didn't like water… The Artificer typically quenched their thirst with food, sweet berry juice, salty blood and whatever else they could get their claws on…
The Dark Scavenger looked down at the Artificer… His eyes dimmed in the low lighting of the strange den, made darker by the mask he wore...
When the Artificer made no move to drink, the Dark Scavenger gingerly nudged the shell closer, blatantly offering it to the Artificer, still, the Artificer refused, due to both pride and a reluctance to make themselves sick.
The Artificer hissed weakly when the Dark Scavenger's patience was tested, large, dangerous claws settled over the back of the Artificer's neck as the shell was brought to their lips.
They sputtered as the water burned them, choked as the sun in their stomach began to smoke.
Luckily, the Dark Scavenger was being genuine with his gift, and not just planning on torturing the Artificer to death, as upon realizing the Artificer's distress, the Dark Scavenger was quick to cease his attempts to coax the Artificer into drinking.
The absence of water did not ease the Artificer however…
They knew that the Scavengers were clever creatures, swift and effective pack hunters, they had seen a pack of Scavengers fell a Vulture before, a momentous task…
But they had also seen Scavengers accept gifts and trade goods with other creatures clever enough to do so…
The Artificer had nothing to offer, and they knew full well that the Scavenger before them could easily kill them… The fact that it hadn't yet, meant that the Dark Scavenger wanted something…
Not that the Dark Scavenger would ever be able to tell the Artificer. The tongue spoken between Scavenger consisted of odd clicks and hisses and breathy chuffs, accompanied by body language and hand gestures.
The Artificer could recall no such methods of communication occurring between their Denmakers and Denmates, though they themselves could hiss and howl as loudly as any other creature could, their voice held no tongue.
And even if they did have some tongue to convey, there was no way for them to understand or be understood by the Scavengers.
The Dark Scavenger made some chuffed sound, his head turned away from the Artificer, back towards the narrow dark tunnel they had come through earlier, though the Artificer had no idea how the Dark Scavenger managed to worm his way through such a tight squeeze.
The Dark Scavenger's chuff was met with another before a different Scavenger, muddled green with dark brown spines, crept up through the passage.
The Artificer did not miss how the new Scavenger's vivid pink eyes narrowed at the very sight of them.
The Dark Scavenger noticed too, offering the new Scavenger a low, rumbling hiss as he moved himself between the Muddled Scavenger and the Artificer.
They hissed and snipped to one another for a while, the Dark Scavenger, after his initial warning, calmly, while the Muddled Scavenger seemed to only grow more irate.
After one particularly volatile snarl from the Muddled Scavenger, it made some move to go around the Dark Scavenger, presumably to attack the Artificer, and, being held in place as they were, the Artificer would have been completely helpless.
The Dark Scavenger was displeased by the Muddled Scavenger however, and despite his size and the shallow ceiling of the cave they were in, the Dark Scavenger struck viciously.
Lashing out at the Muddled Scavenger with lethal claws, the Dark Scavenger took hold of the smaller scavenger by the throat, easily slamming the smaller creature to the floor, holding it down effortlessly as he leaned close to snarl into the smaller scavenger's ear…
Before hoisting the smaller creature up and unceremoniously shoving them towards the passage leading out.
The Muddled Scavenger retreated, spitting hisses under its breath with its tail tucked between its legs.
With the smaller scavenger gone, the Dark Scavenger moved to approach the Artificer, bowing low, not as he had with the Muddled Scavenger, not in a threatening manner, more so, curious.
The Artificer still hissed in warning, docile demeanor or not, they had no reason to trust the Dark Scavenger…
The Dark Scavenger could have very easily ignored them and carried on with whatever he had intended, the Artificer knew well that they were helpless, completely at the other creature's mercy.
Yet, he backed off, slowly, but still away.
It was then that the Muddled Scavenger returned with a dead Squidcada and a very acidic look in its eyes.
The Dark Scavenger hissed at the Muddled Scavenger sharply, culling the poisonous look from its eyes before it once again slipped back into the passage.
The Dark Scavenger then took the Squidcada and tore it limb from limb as if it were made of Batgrass… A terrifying display of power only snubbed as the Dark Scavenger set a slab of carapace and meat before the Artificer…
The Artificer would have preferred to starve than accept any pity or offering from the Scavengers…
But at the sight of meat, the sun in their stomach roared and using what little mobility they had, the Artificer strained against their bonds to snatch the corpse between their teeth and devour.
The Dark Scavenger watched silently, drinking in the sight with a different sort of hunger…
With the sun in their belly satiated for the time being, the Artificer could resume worrying about the Dark Scavenger's intentions, which only became more and more unclear by the day…
The Artificer couldn't be sure how long they spent tucked away within the depths of the Scavenger Den, being stuck as they were, they couldn't determine the passage of time using the sun and moon and clouds as they had before.
The Rain was a routine occurrence, though not often reliable. The sun would rise and fall, and with every passing moon, clouds would gather in the sky, light at first, before darkening with the weight of the Rain.
Eventually, the clouds would cover the entire sky and grow so dark that they burst, and then the Rain would come and the world would go quiet.
There was no true way to determine how long it would take for the clouds to burst other than hazarding a guess, which was why the Artificer never dawdled when it came to preparing for the rain.
The moment the Rain stopped and they awoke, they would hunt to fill the gaps between their ribs before starting all over again.
Here however, in the den of the Dark Scavenger, they did not have the chance to worry about such things as there was no sun, no moon and certainly no sky for them to see.
There were however, sounds, though at most, the Artificer could only rely on the sounds of the Scavengers returning home from a hunt as a reasonably reliable means to determine the passing of time, their chittering cries carried through the den well enough, and often, the sounds of a returning hunt meant food and the return of the Dark Scavenger.
The Dark Scavenger did not stay by the Artificer's side at all times, something that the Artificer found relief and disappointment in. Though they would surely grow weary at the prospect of constantly being on guard around the Scavenger, they surely would have preferred it to the loneliness they felt with his absence.
Despite the reluctance to see the Dark Scavenger leave every presumable dawn, the Artificer still hissed at the Dark Scavenger whenever he tried to get too close, but the hiss was more to save face than actually threaten the other by that point, still, the Dark scavenger never strayed closer unless it was for a good reason such as offering the Artificer food or checking the bindings on their leg.
Despite the fact that the Dark Scavenger seemed to have no immediate intention to harm the Artificer, they still sought to earn the Dark Scavenger's favor, if only to see if they could open an opportunity for an escape.
The Artificer choked down stone and spears, originally to the Dark Scavenger's carnage, allowing the sun in their stomach to transform the materials into Cherry Bombs and Boom Sticks, which pleased the Dark Scavenger well enough for him to start purposefully bringing the Artificer raw supplies.
During one such time after the return of the hunting party, while the Dark Scavenger was dragging a fresh kill into the den, a whole lizard carcass to be exact, and a large one at that, that the Artificer caught a familiar scent clinging to the Dark Scavenger's fur.
The scent of ozone, heavy and imminent dampness prevalent...
The Dark Scavenger must have felt it too, it being the Rain, as he set the carcass to the side to do some last minute rearrangements to the small chamber, cleaning the entryway of debris, his actions somewhat tense and skittish, anxious, as most creatures were before the Rain.
Once he was satisfied however, the Dark Scavenger sat back, just beside the Artificer… And waited…
The low rumbling of the oncoming Rain was felt long before it was heard, even deep underground, the sound of the Rain crawled through the solid walls of rubble and ancient discard, followed by the familiar grinding of ancient gears waking as the small passageway connecting the modest den the Artificer and the Dark Scavenger were sheltered in began to fold in on itself.
Sealing them both inside…
The Artificer stared at the solid wall where the passage once stood, as the Rain roared above them, striking the ground so viciously it could be heard no matter where a creature ran…
The Artificer cared little for what other creatures did to avoid the rains, all they knew was that the dull roar of the storm was a lull, a sign to sleep…
And despite the fact that they were bound in place and far less prepared for hibernation than they would have preferred, with the sound of rain, they could feel a heaviness begin to settle over them...
But then, a different weight was lifted from their throat as the Dark Scavenger began to free them from their bonds.
The Artificer stirred, and upon realizing what the Dark Scavenger was doing, quickly lifted themselves from the floor they had been resting on for so long, scrambling away from the Dark Scavenger to stretch out their weary joints.
To their delight, their leg was free of pain, though it did feel terribly stiff to walk with, but walk they did, to the opposite side of the den, as far away from the Dark Scavenger they could as they fought off their desire to succumb to the lull of the Rain.
The Dark Scavenger huffed at them softly, crouching low to the ground as he moved to approach, the Artificer reacted like a cornered animal, snarling in warning, unlike all the other times however, the Dark Scavenger ignored them.
The Artificer swiped at the Dark Scavenger's face as he leered close, their claws harmlessly digging shallow grooves into the King Mask he wore, which the Dark Scavenger ignored as he nudged their flank with the nose of his mask.
The Artificer yowled a high sound as they were knocked back onto their side, the action didn't hurt the Artificer in any way, but the fact that they were shoved to the ground by the Dark Scavenger was more than enough to send the Artificer into a panicked frenzy.
The Artificer continued to try and claw at the Dark Scavenger, their swipes did little to deter or even harm the scavenger looming over them, the most the Artificer could do was continue to scramble back, away from the Scavenger's hungry eyes.
The Scavenger who very clearly wanted something from the Artificer.
The Artificer managed to scramble away far enough to find their footing, and with a low, threatening hiss, they rose on weak, trembling legs, taking a moment to shake their head to try and fight the lull of the Rain for a while more so they could appropriately respond to the Dark Scavenger.
However, that brief moment the Artificer took to try and clear their head was the moment the Dark Scavenger took to gently knock them back to the ground, specifically into the nest, his clawed paw settling over the Artificer's collar, holding them down.
The Artificer hissed and snarled as the Dark Scavenger crowded close, a low rumble emanating from his chest as he huffed at the Artificer through his mask, nosing along their side.
Apparently, what the Dark Scavenger wanted did not involve his mask as he cast the thing aside without thought to resume huffing and sniffing at the Artificer, nosing their side and stomach as they hissed and swatted at him.
It wasn't until the large, clawed paw settled over their collar shifted did the Artificer fall still once more, their frantic flailing halting as a claw settled at their throat.
With the Artificer still, the Dark Scavenger purred something soft as he resumed his activities, nosing along the Artificer's stomach until he reached their pelvis.
The first touch to their pelvis had the Artificer once again squirming, although their efforts were paused once again by the claw at their throat, the sharp point of the talon tapping against their throat in warning before the Dark Scavenger gently nosed their thighs apart.
The Artificer snarled softly as the Dark Scavenger ran his nose along the inside of their legs, the action was not sweet, merely curious, instinctive.
The sensation of a tongue soothing over the space between their thighs was as well.
The Artificer had left their Denmakers and Denmates when they were still young, far too young. They knew how to hunt, how to survive but little else.
Since leaving the First Den, the Artificer had thought of little but survival...
The Artificer had never considered the idea of finding a den for themselves, let alone becoming a Denmaker. The very idea had never crossed their mind, largely due to the fact that, other than their Denmakers and Denmates, they had never run across another member of their kin...
But as they lay there, pinned beneath the claws of a massive Scavenger as he either knowingly or unknowingly began to prepare them for becoming a Denmaker, the Artificer found themselves stricken with a desire, a need to become a Denmaker.
The Dark Scavenger lapped their tongue into the Artificer, not brutishly as one would expect, but not kindly either, with purpose if anything, although said purpose roused a soft noise from the back of the Artificer's throat as they writhed beneath the larger creature holding them.
The Dark Scavenger huffed softly in bemusement as the Artificer pressed one of their hind paws to his shoulder, not in an outright attempt to shave him away, more so requesting.
A request which he promptly ignored in favor of delving his tongue deeper into the Artificer, drawing a very heated whine from the small creature beneath him.
The Artificer had spent the majority of their lives relying on their instinct to survive in the unforgivable world. And at that moment, instinct demanded that the Artificer turn onto their paws and raise their tail, and if not for the fact that the Dark Scavenger was holding them in place, they would have gladly done so.
Instead, they were held in place by the Dark Scavenger who had begun to purr, a deep, reverberating sound, louder than the lull of the Rain as he continued lapping at the Artificer.
The Artificer mewled breathlessly as they sunk their claws into the wrist of the Dark Scavenger's wrist, that was enough to finally catch the Dark Scavenger's attention as he pulled his tongue from the Artificer to loom over the supine body beneath him.
The Artificer panted heavily where they lay, squirming weakly, their thighs still spread wide despite the fact that they were trying to roll over.
The Dark Scavenger looked down at them long and hard before he slowly released the hold he had on their collar.
The Artificer made another soft noise as the large paw left them, when they tried to turn over however, the Dark Scavenger stopped them, pressing them back down onto their back as he crowded close, his nose pressing to the side of their throat as he aligned himself with the body beneath him.
Their coupling was neither sweet nor rushed.
The Dark Scavenger pressed into the Artificer slowly, his bulk holding the smaller creature down as the difference between both their sizes and species became all the more prevalent as the Artificer howled in discomfort as a deep ache crawled up their spine.
For a moment, any and all desires to become a Denmaker the Dark Scavenger had instilled in the Artificer were evaporated by the pain of their union, the Dark Scavenger reaching deep inside the Artificer, too deep.
Though the Dark Scavenger offered the Artificer little choice in the matter as he quickly pinned them to the floor once again, he did offer them some small comforts.
Crooning and purring at the distressed Artificer beneath them as he stilled within the far smaller body as he allowed them to tucker themselves out of their panic.
Eventually, the Artificer did grow still once more, lulled into submission by both the Dark Scavenger and his crooning purrs, and by the sound of the Rain which promised sleep….
Before said promise of sleep could snatch them away however, the Dark Scavenger rumbled a soft, reassuring sound as he began to gently rock into the Artificer.
The initial pain of him breaching the Artificer was dulled somewhat, not entirely, but enough to allow the desire to become a Denmaker to once settle as a soft, warm sensation in their chest.
Though they had never met another Denmaker besides their own, the Artificer had stumbled across other Makers during their time in the world. Their bellies soft and full. Admittedly, the Artificer had also felled many Makers, the weight of their young slowing them, making them easy prey.
Just another reason why the Artificer had never thought to become a Denmaker.
Before this point that is.
Now, the thought of growing round and soft was as tantalizing as it was tangible to the Artificer.
Whereas before, when they were alone, wandering the world, the thought of willingly weakening oneself to carry life was baffling. The risks far too high, and the potential consequences far too disastrous...
But there in the Dark Scavenger's den, well tended to and looked after, provided for and safe, the Artificer couldn't help but imagine themselves growing soft and round with their own litter.
The Scavenger purred something low against the base of the Artificer's neck, a deep, satisfied rumble in response to their own trilled purr as he began to press into the Artificer more urgently, the very base of his member slipping from its sheath to press against the Artificer as their coupling drew to a close.
The Artificer had never been a Denmaker before, nor had they ever been so lucky as to stumble across another member of their kin. They had no idea of what the exact steps towards becoming a Denmaker were, though they had seen other creatures fall into the throws of mating.
They knew that it took two creatures to produce kin, a Sire and a Bearer, and they had seen their fair share of such interactions with far duller creatures.
However, they never had stumbled across a coupling of Scavengers. They knew that Scavengers avoided the Rain just as all creatures did, they must have lest they all be wiped out…
As the Dark Scavenger hissed one last strained sound against the base of their throat, and offered them one final press of his hips, forcing the knot at the base of his length to slip into them, the Artificer easily found the answer to their question.
The Artificer mewled a quiet noise of confusion and discomfort when the soft bulb pressed into them, forcing the very head of their mate's length through a barrier within them where he remained still.
That mewl however quickly became a strangled noise of panic as the soft bulb quickly began to swell and grow.
They tried briefly to squirm away from the Dark Scavenger, but he was quick to once again place a hand to their collar, holding them in place, as his other hand settled at their stomach, gently petting the soft expanse of skin, as the Dark Scavenger began to sow his seed.
The Artificer remained where they lay, panting softly beneath their mate as their stomach began to fill out with seed, the Scavenger's knot performing its duty well, ensuring that nothing of their coupling would be wasted.
When it became apparent that the Artificer was in no position to try and move further, the Scavenger released his hold on their collar to reach out to the lizard carcass he had brought into the den, which would see them through the Rain.
By this point, the combination of the rain and sheer exhaustion was more than enough to have the Artificer well on their way to hibernation, though, before they could finally succumb to the blissful lull pf Rain Sleep, the Dark Scavenger coaxed the Artificer into eating some small bites of the carcass.
The Dark Scavenger watched as the Artificer slipped into unconsciousness, his massive paw gently ran over the swell of his mate's stomach where his seed would hopefully take root and begin to grow once the Rain fell.
He would remain awake throughout the Rain, watching over his mate diligently, never straying from their side until his knot receded with the Rain, leaving him ample time to ensure his seed would take.
The Artificer would wake some few more times during the rain, each time by the Dark Scavenger, whether by his gentle rocking against them as he gleefully pressed another load into them, despite the fact that they were still tied together by his knot, or, more commonly, so he could hand feed them more bits of carcass, ensuring that the gaps between the Artificer's ribs never became prevalent.
By the time the Rain finally passed and the mechanical burrow opened again, the Artificer's stomach was soft and round, full of brood.
The Artificer awoke to the familiar grinding of gears as the passage leading out into the Scavenger Stronghold opened, but above the sound of the mechanical den rousing, was a soft, pleased purr from the Dark Scavenger as he happily nosed their belly, pressing his jaw to the soft swell along their middle to feel a delicate paw press back against him.
With the lizard carcass nothing but bones and meat too foul to eat, and the Artificer starving from their hibernation, the Dark Scavenger donned his Mask once again, leaning down to nuzzle the Artificer's stomach, and then the Artificer's throat, one last time before he turned and slipped through the narrow passage to resume the hunt.
The Artificer had a half though to try and escape then, slip away… Out of the Stronghold and away...
But the weight of their belly, hanging below them as they rose, gently brushing against the ground as they waddled towards the entryway to peer out to try and see what was beyond the den, had them stilling before they could set a single paw out…
They were a Denmaker now, with a litter on the way, and a perfectly good den to make use of...
By the time the Dark Scavenger returned, their den was clean and tidy, and their nest was soft and warm and inviting.
The Artificer devoured the Centipede their mate had presented them with as he crooned and nuzzled their swollen belly excitedly.
