Tug of war! An ancient and noble sport used by soldiers to improve their strength and endurance, used by the common citizen for fitness and fun, and used by some shlarndri demons when a rack is not available in a manner reminiscent of Kola and the two sostroki.

The two pullers relaxed their grip on the pullee. For an instant they stared at each other, red eyes reflected in one another's gaze. With a moment of mutual understanding that crossed the boundaries of both species and intellect, they heaved as one.

In a small way Kola sought to pull the struggling hexapod from the other's grip, but in a much greater one she desired to rip the "rope" in half. She was sure her opponent shared this desire.

The two laboured against each other. Pulling and pulling. The sostroki, while much smaller than Kola, was almost as strong. It dug all six feet into the gravel, before rapidly tensing and relaxing its legs. Slime began to flow from between its armour, instead of the regular dripping, running into the ground and solidifying. Effectively, six anchors were formed around its feet. They rooted the sostroki in place. Given that Kola couldn’t leverage her full weight against it, or else risk tearing open her own feet on the gravel, only the sostroki’s awkward grip prevented it from gaining the advantage. This left the two at a stalemate.

It would be up to a third party to finish this contest, a balloon decided. Or, it would have decided if it weren’t capable of barely more complex thought than the sostroki. Mind you “barely more” was still an improvement. It’s just that the difference between the intellect of what was the mental equivalent of a plant with a few instinctual behaviours and the mental equivalent of a particularly dumb insect wasn’t all that impactful in the short-term. This is to say that though the balloon made its approach at an opportune time, it did not intend to do so.

Nevertheless, it was able to float above the two competitors unnoticed. Partially because its method of movement was more subtle than most on this slope of screeching, embattled monsters (though this was undercut somewhat by its bright orange colouration). Mostly it succeeded because the two were completely and utterly absorbed in their contest. This is why they only realised the balloon was above them when it interfered.

"Foul!" cried the nonexistent audience as four spearhead-tipped tentacles struck down at the anchored sostroki. One was deflected by its gravel armour, two slipped between the fragments, and the fourth skipped off the sostroki's armoured head only to slam back down on the leg held in its mouth. It pierced through the thinner armour, severing the leg. This caused Kola to fall back with the former rope ending up on top of her, pushing her down into the bladelike gravel and biting at her face.

It managed to remove the tip of her nose before she shoved it to the side. Much like before she held it down with one hand while she stabbed at it, twin knives in the other. In her panic however Kola forgot to remove its armour, stabbing it repeatedly in a manner more controlled than a sostroki's flailing and just as effective, that is, not very.

Meanwhile, the balloon struck the other sostroki again and again, breaking its armour and piercing its flesh. Once satisfied with the damage it had caused, the balloon began to rise, speartips still stuck in its victim. The latter was as helpless as the rope had been, unable to reach the tentacles with its teeth and its blades easy enough to avoid. Together they rose higher, anchors only slowing their ascent; one silent and one snarling.

The snarling briefly stole Kola's gaze. She blinked a few times at the odd sight somewhat akin to an actual balloon ride, only with more blood and predatory intent. Her attention was forcibly returned to the gripped sostroki almost immediately as it nearly cut her with a side mounted blade. Sufficiently calmed by the reminder that they were essentially helpless once held, Kola carefully scraped away it's armour in a ring before regretfully bisecting it. Ripping it apart just seemed so much more fun.

Looking upwards revealed no sight of the flying couple. It was unfortunate. She actually liked the one creature on this hill that hadn't tried to kill her.

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'That is always the way is it not? An awesome first date interrupted by a jealous ex.'

The joking thought prompted a memory. A figure stood in the doorway, wind blowing leaves and spherical ornaments past them. Dark, large, and looming. Getting closer. Closer.

Grabbing. Choking. Vision fading.

"Stop!!"

Her shout faded quickly, drowned out by the fighting all around. Breathing heavily, Kola kneeled on the ground above the sostroki. Blood spilling from newly opened gashes where the ground had cut through her pyjamas joined what still flowed from slightly older wounds. Both went unnoticed.

She gripped where the sostroki had been cut apart, fingers digging into its flesh, and cried.

Unconsciously, her hands began stripping the back half of its armour. Bit by bit, pulling gravel fragments free from the adhesive slime. Still crying, she lifted the dense half-corpse up and started eating. It was difficult; the creature's flesh was very tough. Each mouthful could be chewed for minutes and still maintain some form. She chewed faster and faster, shoving as much of what should have been an absolutely revolting meal into her mouth as she could. It tasted amazing!

Once, on a particularly bad day, Kola had been sitting in Lasora's apartment completely unable to do anything. Just sitting there, staring at the television without actually watching it. For hours. Lasora had run about, unsure of what to do. Talking, hugging, offering food, begging for a response. None of it had done anything. Lasora gave up and tried to wait it out. To occupy herself, she cooked. She put everything she could into the meal, trying to distract herself from her inability to help her friend. When Kola was active again, she was greeted with the best food of her life. Afterwards, it had completely overshadowed her memory of the previous hours, allowing her to look back on that day as the day she ate the best meal she had ever had.

The sostroki tasted exactly like that meal. As if it had just been pulled from Las's oven. Moreover, it gave her that feeling you get after a really good workout. Then the smell hit her. Overwhelming brimstone that struck her almost physically. It was what she imagined being drowned in rotten eggs smelt like. Yet the taste was still so good.

The incongruous nature of the meal snapped Kola out of her unconscious feast. After the entire thing had been consumed. Realising what she had just done, Kola felt like she should have been retching. Instead she felt… perfect. The constant pain had ended sometime while she had been eating, her breathing was normal, and her trauma was squished back into its corner of her mind.

Kola smiled and stood up. Slowly of course, so as not to cut herself anew on the air. She began clearing her face of tears and found something very odd. Instead of a clear, salty liquid her hands came back covered in blood. Now, that in itself wasn't a surprise. Even aside from the many other cuts she had taken, Kola specifically remembered cutting her head on the air after shaking it. Not that she had done so for any particular reason. She absolutely had not been trying to distract herself from-

"No! I feel way too good to think about… nothing. There is nothing to think about. Except that my tears are the wrong colour."

After all, her tears weren't clear. They weren't red. Probably; if they were it would have just blended into the blood on her face. They were black. And smelled slightly of sulphur. More oddities soon revealed themselves.

Next were her teeth. Thinking back on her dazed feast, chewing what was essentially all muscle had gotten easier as time went on. She ran her tongue over her teeth. Had they always been that pointy?

As a hand was brought up for a more in-depth examination, another change was discovered. She stared at her fingers. Her fingertips specifically. Both flesh and nail had gathered together to form, well… claws.

She giggled nervously.

They were short, pale green, and looked very sharp. Not like a dog's or cat's, extending from the bone over flesh. Instead they were more like someone had turned her hands to clay, stretched out the last knuckle section on each finger until it had a wicked point, and reverted them to flesh. Except for the claws themselves. The sculptor had made a mistake and changed them to the same metalish material that sostroki blades were made from. She had never given the material itself much interest, simply noting that it was very sharp and could be snapped. She decided to continue that tradition and move on. This could join the pile of mental issues marked 'do not touch'.