A Frog's Hit Job

24 January 2019

17:24 Damn Frog begins to set up his daring and extremely clever ambush, a trap from which no poor fool could expect to escape once ensnared.

17:25 < Damn Frog> [I want to warn everyone here that there is going to be digestion... assuming all goes well.]

17:26 < Damn Frog> [But you'll never guess the prey]

17:26 Saul Ashle skitters on in to the channel, and finds a comfortable spot to lay upon.

17:30 < Damn Frog> This evening, the Greninja has remained well hidden, barely more than a shadow in the ever-shifting branches and reeds that line the periphery of the room. It hasn't been long since he had his last meal, and indeed the occasional slosh makes his position clear to those nearby, but his real target tonight is a fire-type against whom he has a particular vendetta: Saul Ashle. And there he is, ripe for the plucking.

17:35 Saul Ashle has a pudgy belly himself, though soft and round, with a fattened tail. No doubt lizard has eaten somewhat recently, and is fairly sated. He gazes up lazily at the evening sun as it begins to set, enjoying the last of its colorful rays before the air gives way to the chill of the night. Little did he know that he'd attracted the ire of anything, and anyways, he felt plenty secure in his status as a fearsome opponent to any who would attack him. Around him though, blooms a defensive cloud of pheremones, though the wind carries them off before they become too concentrated.

17:39 Damn Frog knows the wind is as much a blessing as an obstacle. As the amphibian creeps through the reeds towards his prey, he must avoid being either upwind or downwind. Stiff stems sway with his movements, getting closer and closer with each silent step, until, with barely three meters between him and Saul, the creature prepares his tongue for the strike. The thing is coiled like a rattlesnake about to bite, but unlike a snake, the dangerous part isn't just the tip; the entirety of the frog's pink organ is covered in mercilessly sticky slime, and most prey is held motionless with just one quick flip. He hesitates, watches, waiting for just the right moment to launch his as"saul"t. And when the wind picks up, pushing away the last of that cloud, the Greninja's tongue shoots out blindingly fast, almost invisible in the twilight.

17:51 Saul Ashle heard the rustling around him, and lifted his head as the other begins to creep towards him, but, he didnt see anything apparent among the area around him, and so settles back down. "Must be the wind I suppose..." he mutters to himself, and relaxing once more. As time passes and the sky grows a little dimmer, fading from yellow to orange, he feels a thump against his body, that feels cool and wet on his soft scales. His eyes shoot open to glance down at the long pink object that's attached itself midway down his tail. He hisses and stands up, jerking his tail backwards, only to find that whatever it is has adhered itself quite well to his figure.

17:55 Damn Frog is always on-target, though sometimes he's a little more on-target than others. The fire-type's tail is not his ideal strike zone, seeing as those claws and teeth look a good deal more dangerous, but it's a matter of a quick, powerful contraction of his tongue to pull the doomed creature off-balance and potentially wrap more of his body into the inescapable confine of his tongue. Simultaneously, the Greninja steps forward, providing himself a bit more slack for the act and finally revealing his face. His eyes glow with the satisfaction a predator feels when he's captured his prey, a cat with a mouse under his paw. If Saul intends to beg for his life, now's the chance.

18:01 Saul Ashle feels his jerk against the tongue return with a tug of its own, causing his claws to slide along the rock towards the edge of his perch, as his claws cant really grasp onto the smooth stone for which eh found hismelf on top of. He manages not to get more entangled in the sticky rope, though that's more lucky happenstance than knowledge to avoid it. "What is this?!" He calls out, shifting his eyes across the darkening brush and then lights up a little flame on the palm of his hand. For that matter, his tail too grows increasingly hot along the strip of orange, causing the drool that drips off of the frog's tongue to sizzle upon contact with that patch. Upon seeing the greninja his only response is to toss a blast of fire towards him. "Release me!"

18:11 Saul Ashle moves to put another wave of searing fire out towards the frog, when this motion is interupted by that slippery muscle encircling his body, drawing another hiss of anger. This time, the tongue is in direct contact with several of the fire patches, the one that runs across his chest, and the other that's caught up in his left claw. The sharp points dig into the sticky flesh as he tries to tear it away, and also makes the mistake of trying to wrench it off with his other, slightly free hand, only to get it too stuck to the cool slippery appendage. The poison pokemon has one more trick up his sleeve though...or throat really, as he begins to bring a sticky glob of toxic goop up from his belly, preparing to hauk the most nasty of lugies.

18:16 Damn Frog is rather amused. My my, what's a poor predator like Greninja to do when counter-attacked by such a fierce and potent being? The look in his eyes hasn't changed - if anything, along with the excitement of the hunt, there's an intensity that betrays his masochistic streak, a flash of arousal that only those with the sharpest eyes or keenest noses might notice. That tongue, though! With each part of Saul's body it touches, the thing seems to mold to his form, pressing tighter against him, constricting, and increasing the area in contact with his skin. Simultaneously, planting his wide, webbed feet against the firm ground, the water-type begins to lean backwards. Though nearly the same size as his prey, his daily-practiced muscles endeavour to lift Saul upwards, relieving the fire-type's feet of any purchase on the ground.

18:22 Saul Ashle certainly is too busy dealing with the tongue that gives him another uncomfortable wrap to really notice the look of thrill in the eyes of his predator. THe lump in his belly squishes easily in the grip of the tongue to then bulge up on either side, providing even more surface area for it to latch on to. Even as he feel shimself wrapped up, he's waiting for the opportunity for his counter assault. Its not until he's lifted upwards off of the ground and drawn closer to the frog that that one comes. He spits his mouthful out at the frog and splatters his face with the caustic goop, with an impact to further knock his predator off balance. Much like the tongue, it clings to where it lands, continuing to burn where it lingers.

18:28 Damn Frog curses inwardly, immediately pulling one hand to his face to douse his eyes with a fountain of icy water. The remainder of the poison can wait, though; so long as Saul is still free to produce more of the toxic substance, the Greninja knows it's futile to try to avoid or remove it all. Eyes clenched closed now, the water-type cannot see, but he doesn't need to; in fact, he'll have an easier time swallowing his bolus with them closed. And Saul may have hoped to unbalance the frog, but with his wide-set toes, tipped with sticky pads and trained night and day in balance, it's a waste of his final few living moments. The Greninja draws his tongue into his Pac-Man-like maw, pulling Saul headfirst to at least contain any further toxic emissions. It is surprising, though, that the fire-type hasn't begged for mercy - at least he has earned some respect from this assassin.

18:35 Saul Ashle 's mouth still drips with the poison, which runs down the sides of his face to streak onto the tongue curled around him, though in a much less concentrated form than it'd been in before hand. As he's busy producing a second go of his venom, he's pulled forward towards that open mouth. "You'lre going to regret this! I'll burn my way out of you once that precious tongue of yours has released me," he threatens at the frog, "If my poison does-mmmmpph" His threats are silenced, however, as his head slides up into those jaws, muffling his noise. He's recovered enough to send another, smaller wad of his attack out, which splashes against the back fo the throat, and runs down, leaving a painful heartburn like sensation in its wake.

18:42 Damn Frog knows that it's likely that the Greninja will bear scars from this encounter when they are through, but thus far nothing inflicted on him has been much more than cosmetic. The skin on his tongue, intended for the same rough conditions found in his stomach, regularly replenishes itself and barely reacts to the toxin aside from provoking a grimace as the Greninja gets an all-too-good taste of that vile liquid. But once those pointy reptilian jaws are within his, the game is over: his lips seal around the Salazzle's waste, and his tongue actually follows his prey down that scar-crossed throat, pushing him along faster than swallowing alone would and preventing those claws from doing much damage on the way down. Now looking a bit like a pelican with a shark in its beak, the frog leans backwards until he's seated, neck held vertically to tuck his prey deeper and deeper with each swallow, each blink, each heartbeat. The latter becomes incredibly loud around his prey, echoing in the pink, rough-textured esophagus. And with the light that Saul produces, should he choose to keep an eye open in morbid curiosity, there is a tight ring at the base of this flesh-tube already expanding to accommodate its bolus. Its relaxation coincides with a blast of hot, incredibly vile air that has been collecting around his stomach contents for an hour or so. The frog smells much better on the outside than the inside, who would've thought?

18:50 Saul Ashle is helpless now as he's drawn down into that gullet with the first of many heavy swallows, causing the powerful pink muscles to roll across his form in hearty motions. The rest of the lizard has a mildly smokey flavor to it, though nothing terribly intense and worth writing home about, though the red patches continue to scald it with each passing second, even it it never works through the protective layer of goop. In addition to the loud thumping of his predator's heart, he can hear the labored breathing as he struggles around the large meal, and the gurgling chamber beyond. The air in there is already quite foul with the stench of old meat wihtin the gullet, but becomes odor of his raw stomach juicdes are even worse as they assault his figure. Right now he cant see in that stomach, as the tongue blocks off the light he'd otherwise produce in a shoddy attempt at fire, but it feel slike he's got company inside of there...of who knows ehat.

18:51 < Damn Frog> [As one last warning, graphic digestion without disposal is going to happen now. If it's not your thing then you should probably divert your eyes.]

18:53 < Medley Slugdragon> [>//////> doooo it]

18:54 < Dragonair Pit> [eicon]tinihuh[/eicon]

18:56 Eragon The Mander watches

18:58 Damn Frog 's tongue has a special trick to it: the slime coating it, so effective at capturing just about any surface and warding off chemicals and heat alike, can be shed at will, leaving behind naked skin and tastebuds that will, in time, regain their former hard-earned reputation. The coils around Saul's torso and shoulders seem to loosen as the slime sloughs off, though it's stuck to him just as certainly as it was before and there is no hope of ridding himself of it. MEanwhile, the frog is able to slowly withdraw his tongue from his own throat, inches at a time, at the same time as the Salazzle's once-deadly hind feet are drawn past his lips. Without his tongue wrapped around his neck like a scarf, the Greninja's bulging neckline is apparent to anyone, and the whole meal is moving visibly downwards. There is a bit of a release of tension when Saul's head finally passes the lower esophageal sphincter and is plunged into the putrid chamber beneath. The sight is not one for the weak-willed.

Saul is not the Greninja's first meal today. Beneath him, partially submerged in murky green liquid with floating gray-pink scraps of fat and mostly dissolved skin, is a Mudkip. The creature has managed to keep its head out of the liquid, not that it's done any good, and as it stares up motionless at the new visitor, it is unclear whether Saul is witnessing the macabre positionining of a corpse, or the last moments of a living creature, issuing him a silent warning, a guarantee of the same fate awaiting him.

19:10 Saul Ashle feels it at first, rather than seeing it, as his head slides deeper into the invisible murk, which feels like mud to his tough scales, which will provide him some modicum of protection from the fluids at first. However, as the tongue lets his chest loose after sliding in, the warm glow illuminates the dimly lit chamber just enough for the lizard to see the horrors contained within the other's belly. As he displaces the mudkip, its pretty clear that the meal has certainly passed on, as his eaten chest rises to the top of the goop, revealing a pitted sternum and holes into the deeper cavity. What's more, he can see blue scales and the bones of...a totadile? mixed in there with him. As he opens his mouth to shout, the liquid rushes in, tingling at his tongue and filling it with the bitter meaty chyme that surrounds his figure.

19:18 Damn Frog , and to anyone spectating on the exterior, the last bits of Saul visible are his pointed toes, looking every bit as sleek now as they did an hour ago. But when they, too, find themselves immersed in the Greninja's maw, there is nothing left but a satisfied smile and a somewhat pinker tongue wrapping itself lightly about the frog's shoulders. Aside from his distended gut, the Greninja looks relatively normal; one hand is still showering the poison off of his face where it can, another planted on the ground behind him to keep him from tipping over backwards should his prey try to throw his weight around.

Within, innumerable hydronium ions swarm every bit of Saul's immersed form, joined by enzymes to handle the trickier bits. They may take their time to do their job, but thanks to the previous meals, the frog's stomach acid has filled practically the entire chamber. Opening his mouth is a mistake, though it's a mistake that will at least shorten the fire-type's suffering. The more of his tissues the bitter chyme coats, the shorter his pain will be. It's a small mercy that he was swallowed head-first, after all - going down the other way would've been as excruciating for the Salazzle as it would be dangerous for the Greninja.

19:28 Saul Ashle digs his forelegs into the bottom of the stomach to force his head up above the surface of the goop, where he sputters and cleans the muck from his maw, ending up swallowing much of it down, including a couple bones that seemed to have gotten stuck in there. All around him he can feel the powerful muscles of the geninja kneading the ever prescent chympe into his form, including what remains fo the poor little mudkip from before. That meat seems to burst against him with each squeeze, moving from larger pieces into smaller chunks, while the sharp bones tear small gashes in his scales, revealing his much softer insides to the stinging solution.

Even still, despite all the pain, he's not done fighting. The amount of pressure in tha tbelly continues to grow as Saul's hot body liquifies more of the juices around him into a vapor, one that admittedly burns at his nasal passages. His claws scrach against the surface of the stomach in an attempt to fight his way out, causing the bulges within the predator to wiggle with life. The motions are uncooridnated though, and easy for a well trained predator to resist.

19:36 Damn Frog could feel him shifting. Those bones are the most resistant to digestion, and the Greninja often expels them after a meal rather than waiting for them to dissolve or soften enough to pass through his duodenum. In this case, a few of them were broken when the two creatures were eaten, likely crushed by his perversely effective stomach muscles, and the acid has whittled them down into needles. These very same weapons that now jab and prod at Saul from all sides, most painfully across his face and against the relatively weaker scales of his neck, have been inflicting the same sort of damage to the Greninja's stomach for the past hour. Trapped between muscular stomach wall and stomach wall, the fragments give him a bit of indigestion, but the end result is the same: his gut is meant to withstand this kind of abuse, and the Salazzle's claws, though sharp, are no serious danger unless they can somehow pierce the leather-thick walls that delineate Saul's final resting place. Meanwhile, the peristaltic waves in the frog's throat, augmented by that wonderful swallowing trick that amphibians do, force Saul's hindquarters in after the rest, twisting and bending him as needed to do so. Pressing against the Greninja's stomach walls does not make the organ expand to give the fire-type more air, but rather reduces its volume like squeezing a waterskin, and each time he tries to struggle, more and more of those increasingly potent fluids wash across his progressively failing skin.

19:59 Saul Ashle files in slowly over the course of several minutes as the frog forces him down deeper inside of htat belly, until finally toes and tail alike are pressed into the slippery chamber, which clings tightly to his body. He's lucky that his lizard bones are so flexible as he contorts in on himself, twisted up much like a cinomin roll, while mucky remains of the other two creatures that had been inside of there coat him like a foul icing. Around his neck where the bones had cut deep wounds, he was quickly losing scales, exposing more of his flesh in angry red patches across his body. And, with his slit now in the gurgling juices as well, that sinsitive area is soon assaulted by the fluids which are squelched up into them by a contraction, to reach the sensitive weak flesh contained there within. Open sores are gradually spreading across his body where his tough scales used to be, deminishing even his heat as those organs are burned away into a mess of thick chyme.

20:04 Damn Frog can feel his target fading. That life force was so strong just a few minutes earlier, struggling for his life, fighting for freedom, and finally trying to inflict retalliatory wounds. But now the Salazzle's heartbeat is barely evident, his movements more forced by the amphibian's own involuntary muscle contractions than anything else, and he finds himself wondering how much longer his snack will resemble a creature, not just a bony soup. With practiced caution, he stands up, legs spread wide to distribute the unusual weight in his stomach. There is no trophy here for him to take, no proof of his deed, but at the same time there's little evidence that a struggle happened aside from a few scuffs, some vile splotches on the ground, and the lingering pain on his face and in his eyes. He wonders offhand whether the Salazzle even guessed why he was taken, who had ordered him killed. But the story has no loose end: Saul's acid-bound companions, the two tiny water-types, were the one who had ordered his death, and they'd paid with their own lives. A fair trade, in the end.

20:14 Saul Ashle fights for as long as he can as the searing pain rolls over his body, while flesh gives way to bones, especially upon his thinner spots, like his hands. Now that the protection of his scales had been rendered rather ineffective by the gashes that were left oer his body, he was very quickly starting to resemble the mudkip that he'd seen upon entering the belly. Not that he could see anymore, as his eyes were clouded and useless, and his fire patches had dulled abd been rendered moot. Finally, as the frog begins to move, there's not much left of the creature's consiousness. Finally he sinks beneath the fluid and passes out into the the caustic solution, unknowningly mixing with his foes in one last soupy mess. At least there'd be one last parting shot for the frog. THe powerful toxins that course through his body would certainly not be any fun for his predator, as his stomach gives out and releases the concentrated flood into the larger belly around him.

20:19 Damn Frog is certainly going to have some awful indigestion later, and possibly have to spend a day or two in bed... unless he happens to find a Pecha berry or two. But his night is done - he's going to slink back into the woods, disappearing with his full stomach and one more mark eliminated. His gut, in time, will break down its food; most of the matter isn't needed and will simply be eliminated in time, much of the energy will go towards the process of digestion itself, and some additional amount of protein will help him build his muscles to take down his next target.
Pokenoms, watch your asses.

20:21 < Damn Frog> [Let's have a big thank you for my delicious meal, Saul! And thanks to the 60 of you who stuck around to enjoy the fun.]

20:22 < Robbie Goldheart> (definitely was a show, I normally wouldn't like the idea, but I believe that may have changed my mind~)

20:23 < Bryce Daeless> [sub]Who did you even eat, Logan?[/sub]

20:23 < Damn Frog> Poor Saul's had a rough day.