User:Azimuth/Gemma
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Gemma woke up, and her arms were still tied to the pole. So this hadn't been any sort of dream, then. Well, drat.
Her sleeves had a few holes in them by this point. For some reason it seemed being held prisoner in a place aided the aging process of her clothing by a considerable amount. Gemma had only been here a few days, or that's what it felt like; at least the room had a window. Being transported from the shop had turned her hair white, and she had a cough, but she was very much alive.
Not stealing things from magic shops was now high on her to-do list. It was unfair, really. They could have asked her to put the statuette back, but nooo, as soon as she left the shop with it, the door had teleported her deep into time and space. And the indigenous peoples of whatever rock she'd ended up on, they seemed to know exactly what it was she'd got with her when she materialised in one of their big rooms. Quickly the item had been seized, and she had a few hundred spears in her face, and then Gemma was being led away to this room, where she would stay. Until someone decided differently, anyway.
That someone might well have been her. Over the last few days, she had come to spot imperfections in the pole she was tied to and the rope that bound her. Rubbing them together gave a nice grinding noise that sounded like progress in the making. She'd get back at that place somehow, oh yes she would. Narrow blue eyes showed her unhappiness. And yet the people of this place, they were quite fine. They fed her some sort of grains, and gave her something that seemed similar to coconut milk, and they didn't let her go but they weren't doing anything else, either. They probably didn't know how to deal with something that had just popped into existence holding what may have been a long lost rare treasure.
Admittedly, they were reptiles. That had surprised her, not just the spears they'd waved in her face, but the fact that they were all smooth-skinned and slightly feathery in places. Their faces were all weird, muzzly and smooth; their hands were nowhere near as limber as hers, which explained this form of restraint - and why she could get around it. She was in the spiritual successor to Jurassic Park and there wasn't a lot she could do about it.
But she could get free. The rope was definitely giving, bit by bit. A few hours later, it came apart in her hands, and she had to grab the pole to avoid falling backwards. Surprised, but happy, she set about the knots on her legs, but with her hands free they were quite easy to work out. Freedom! Shake some feeling back into her feet, find the door, and- run!
However, with her first two steps out of the door, her feet locked in place, and the ground underneath began to glow. Gemma looked down, uneasily, and saw there were footprints dotted outside. In two of these, her own bare feet were nestled, and they felt like they were melting, spreading out to fill the little impressions in the floor. The ground seemed alive, as thought it had been waiting for this. And nothing about the prints looked even remotely human. She yelped, and for the first time since arriving here, she felt properly scared. This wasn't the fault of her hosts - this was just her doing. Wasn't it?
A blue glow crept up the outside of her legs as she watched her feet crackle and shrink, toes squeezing together as pointed claws curved out where her toenails used to be. Somewhere between claws and talons, they glistened wetly in the squishy ground, as though the footprints had been freshly made. Gemma heard something in the back of her mind that said she had made those prints. It made no sense, but as the stiff hide began to wrap its way up her legs, it slowly seemed much more likely. The hard hide was a soft green colour, but was quickly taken over by feathers, coarse and heavy, dotting over her flanks much like a bird, but not like any she'd ever seen before.
Gemma's back crumpled up, and she lurched forwards, unable to fall over but very unbalanced. She was being scrunched like a discarded piece of paper, by relentless forces that shrunk her and tugged at her skin. Her fingers were pulled out, one by one, curving at the tips as feathers erupted down her arms, burrowing their way out and fanning into primitive wings. She was hunched over entirely now, forelimbs touching the ground and fitting perfectly into two more impressions in the soft soil. Renewed energy sprang up her arms, and Gemma felt a snarl in her throat. What sort of animal was this? She smelled it everywhere. Whatever it was, despite being much smaller than she, it felt powerful. Her clothes were getting baggy, dwarfing her small upper half. She didn't recognise her body any more. The legs bent too much and the arms weren't arms and something very rude was yanking her head out from between her shoulders.
Gritting her teeth, Gemma's neck got longer; her teeth grated and she swallowed a growl. Her hair bunched up, spreading out into a mane of feathers which travelled back down her neck, tickling her a bit. The pinna of her ears disappeared under this growth, and a throbbing pain rang through the girl's head as her nose and mouth grew forwards, lengthening and stretching to make room for sharp little teeth. She could see this new snout replacing her face, little tiny eyes squinting at the world. It was hard to think, difficult to do anything... something smelled like food nearby, but she was still rooted to the floor. That was inconvenient! Perhaps this shiny light would give her movement back and she could eat. It sounded appealing right about then.
Something was around her thoughts about escaping and freedom and whatnot, but she couldn't quite get her claws around it. Oh well, it wasn't that important now.
Piercing the back of her oversized trousers came a long, thin tail, that slowly thickened and gained a patina of feathers, much like the rest of her feathery-lizardy self. It stretched tall, much taller than she was now, and she clawed the odd cloth away from her legs so it could stretch out without hindrance. Much comfier. She felt the floor let her legs go and the little velociraptor hopped onto both legs, and tasted the good smells on the air.
Something in there was different, and something was still the same old Gemma. It all seemed strange, a bit wrong, a bit surreal. Tearing away the last of her clothes she wandered around the corridor, with high walls on either side. And then, suddenly, a number of larger creatures were upon her. They held her down and she shook and tried to throw them off, but it didn't work. Heavy straps were slung around her wings and shackles on her feet, much bigger than she could actually wear, and a little too heavy for her to just shake off, too. Hands clenched tightly around her neck, pulled her mouth up and open, and meekly Gemma stood and took it. The liquid they poured down her throat was sweet, and it dribbled on her cheeks. The leash they tied around her neck was stiff and strong, and the air smelled of metal. Gemstones began to glow, attracting her attention before she gave a low roar, as something stirred inside her soul.
The world was hot, and getting hotter. The raptor's heart beat quickly in her ears, pounding and drowning out her thoughts, simple as they were. Everything was colourful, but the sensations flowing through her began to enrage her. Gemma's claws shook and scraped the ground, docile snarls became loud and angry roars. Her skin felt like it was splitting again, as she shot upwards, head high as she gave a mangled shout. The shackles were beginning to be a better fit, her legs and wings growing. The reptile creatures were shouting their gibberish and the bindings went taut, driven deep into the ground with heavy tools. Again she was trapped, their prisoner. But it was worse than before; she had tasted freedom and then it had gone again.
This place was quickly becoming too small. Her head was forced against the ceiling, making her crouch down even more. She tried to claw at the walls but it did nothing; Gemma tried to scream at them, but that didn't seem to work either. She was becoming a large raptor, bigger than any textbook would show; the natives' rudimentary magic stretched to this level. Even while an animal, she had kept hold of the edges of intelligence, but like this she would have no use for it, and it started to slip away from her, disappearing and leaving her to the throes of pure instinct. She would still have responded to her name if they had known it, but even that was fading away, slipping beneath the rushing feathers and bone; crushed beneath her heavy taloned feet. Underneath it all was something much deeper, much less refined, truly primitive. Fear, and anger, and power. She was taller than everything here, and ever so hungry. And food was all that mattered to her right then.
Someone in the area held her leash, and they pulled on it, bringing the heavy raptor head down towards the ground level. Something bitter was inserted into her mouth, tasting of magic and sending waves through her brain. Someone, one of the creatures, wanted her to follow them. She cared not for any of that, willed her feet to tear great grooves into the tiny walls around her. And yet that didn't happen, not even a little. Powerless, unable to comprehend her subjugation, the monstrous velociraptor followed the irresistible force. Her footprints left great holes behind her, and the wall ahead crumbled as she walked into it, as though it were not there at all. Sunlight shone on the creature for the first time, but she could no longer care. Gemma would be put to good use, attacking neighbouring tribes and defending these lands. The last of her personality was gone, and so her roars were not even vengeful - just the jubilant calls of a raging beast. The bindings that had been driven into the floor came up easily under her movement.
For a beast shaped from such a small creature, she was very thick around the limbs. Still growing a little even now, her feet were each as big as one of her reptilian masters. The sweet magical liquid still hung on her tongue, fattening and toughening her up. No longer sleek and quick, she was a behemoth, more like a sauropod than a theropod. No littler raptor could have accidentally crushed someone, and yet she was doing so to anyone who did not get out of her path quickly enough. They had been nice to her - but she was beyond caring about that now. The chain about her neck hung tight as she followed the figure in front, way down below on the floor; he who held the shiny stone controlled the beast. Simple magic, but effective. No complaints, and no fuss. Just destruction.