#oddworld conar's ambition

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Oddworld: Conar’s Ambition, Chapter 13, Draft 1, Part 27

There was chatter, and others running to find rope or reach out with clubs of their own, but their friend was slipping away too quickly.

Conar was aghast. He wasn’t hoping to kill the guy; just scare him and the others off for a second. Without thinking, he dove back into the water.

The Mudokon was spending more time below the surface now. Every breach was a desperate gasp and several splashes straight downwards. Conar swam ahead, trying to find a good way to grab him. Flailing hands batted against him as he tried to wrap his arms around the torso. The weight threatened to keep both of them down; Conar couldn’t hope to lift him up back to shore.

Perhaps he didn’t have to; flashes of green swam into his vision. Some Ratz had dove in as well, surrounding him. What were they telling him now?

There! An opening in their glares; a thick tree root! Conar desperately paddled his tail, trying to push his assailant and himself to this anchor. His already-aching muscles were threatening to tear him to pieces, and his lungs screamed for air as the Mudokon limply weighed him down.

C’mon, just a little more…

With ever inch that brought them closer to salvation, their vision was blurring. Each paddle forward became more of a lurch, and things were feeling grim as his vision started to darken.

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[a-table-of-fics]

Oddworld: Conar’s Ambition, Chapter 13, Draft 1, Part 25

He just hoped he could hold his breath long enough for the chatter above to die down. But then, what would he do? As far as he knew, the Mudokons weren’t under the same kinds of rigorous patrol demands that Sligs had.

The water was clearing around him, and he heard a splash above. Something poked at his back. It didn’t feel much like skin; it was too smooth and glass-like. He risked a look, only to find the blurry visage of one of the guard Muds glaring at him, poking with his club. The pokes quickly turned to sharp jabs as the Mudokon’s face darkened.

Conar could have swum away. He could have regrouped, found the Slogs, or tried to find some nearby shelter to wait for Slim.

But he had had enough of that; he was a Slig of action. He reached up, scratching against the club before his claws finally found purchase. He tried to pull the weapon down, but that Mudokon was strong. Conar found himself struggling to keep his grip on both the club and the muddy stones that made the river’s wall. He could feel himself turn… whatever color Sligs were supposed to turn when running out of air.

He let himself get pulled up. He soared through the surface and into the air, his arm screaming as it was being pulled by centrifugal force, claw well-embedded into the anchor that was the club. He fell limply with a grunt of pain onto the ground, seeing upside-down spectators with their feet rooted on the ceiling.

Even if he had his legs or his Slog, he would be too exhausted to strike. What he wouldn’t have done for a nice, cool patch of concrete, one less foul-smelling than the rest, away from security Suppressors and his co-workers… alas, there was no such thing. Here, there was only cold stone barely covered with mud. He groaned.

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[a-table-of-fics]

Oddworld: Conar’s Ambition, Chapter 13, Draft 1, Part 24

“Hey, what’s that red?”

Shit. How could he forget the glow from his visor? He saw the red eyes every day back at the Sloghut, both before and after the Pilot models. The Magog’s finest in intimidation, filtration, and allegedly night vision, and it was about to be his undoing.

No time to think of a clever escape. He was already crawling away, barely hearing the sounds of racing footsteps over his racing heart.

“Slig! Get ‘im!”

“Kick his booty!”

Conar’s tail started to slide from side to side. Muscles he didn’t realize he even had were pulling and twisting, searching for any way to speed him up. He found himself kicking forward in ways that gave his crawls very short bursts of speed, finally getting him to the river before the Mudokon… Bouncers…?... could clobber him into a fine paste. Not even thinking twice, he dove in, letting the dirt washing off him obscure his escape.

He swam away, hearing their muffled cries above. No way was he heading back to the wall, though; he’d wasted too much time. Instead, he elected to swim forward some more. He at least had the presence of mind to keep close to the bank, so his pursuers wouldn’t see him so easily through the water. He wondered if he could shut his visor’s glow down, but he knew he’d be blind as a Boombat if he deactivated the whole thing. Still, for now he could bury his face into the wall and wait.

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[a-table-of-fics]

Oddworld: Conar’s Ambition, Chapter 12, Draft 1, Part 12

In vain, he tried to crawl away, but one of the tinier ones had already reached his tail, pulling back while the incisors made him cry in pain. He had no choice; either die like a chump, or die fighting like a Slig.

Before he could even roll around to get his claws ready, though, he heard another growl in the distance. Even the Sloggie chewing on him paused.

It was another Slog, covered in murky swamp water and roots. Several others followed after, some larger than their leader, but all awaiting his next move. They didn’t have to wait long, as he charged forward, furiously barking as he grabbed the Sloggie in his jaws, tossing her into the mud before shifting his focus onto the leader. He let out a deep bark, the kind that Conar was supposed to punish Slogs for back at his job.

He was never told why, but he knew enough to crawl back.

The two Slogs lunged at each other in a flurry of snarls, bites, and the occasional kick. Before anyone else could join in the duel, the other swampy Slogs joined the fight, so everyone had a sparring partner.

Conar tried to duck around teeth and clawed feet, but he was reaching his limit. All the chases, the fall, the fights… it was catching up to him. His movements slowed and became clumsier, and he had to resort to keeping himself upright with his facial tentacles, but even they were struggling to keep him moving forward.

If only he could get back to Slim. He deserved to know why he wouldn’t be coming back.

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[a-table-of-fics]

Oddworld: Conar’s Ambition, Chapter 13, Draft 1, Part 13

More interesting to Conar, however, were the Mudokon figures. Far from the Scrubs he knew, these were proudly bearing weapons, or making some kind of magic happen, or praising some nasty-looking beast with Scrab-like jaws and many spindly legs, some of which made a crown. They had this sort of power on their side, and the Magog used them to unclog toilets?

Were they stupid, or just afraid?

Slim eyed the massive clubs and strange curved weapons, subconsciously comparing them to the spear he once had. If he could single-handedly fend off Paramites with just a stick affixed to some teeth, what could he have done with one of those? Imagine how impressive he’d be…

He shook his head. He was thinking like a Slig. All that power and status when all he needed was personal security. Maybe he could get some peace, and both he and Conar could scare off anyone who’d try to kill them.

That would have to wait, though, as they were coming across a gate made from logs, tied together with unrefined rope and waving a banner of rough leather. The banner was adorned with Mudokon figures raising their arms up in praise to that same multi-limbed monster. Along with them was that same four-eyed lump.

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[a-table-of-fics]

Oddworld: Conar’s Ambition, Chapter 12, Draft 1, Part 5

Slim, for his part, was pinned on the ground, teeth grit under the pressure of a Paramite trying to maul his face off. It was all he could do to shove one off with his spear, while the other occasionally struck, testing his armor. He was able to kick at the attacking Paramite, and sometimes shift his weight to warn it off with the tip of his spear. The one pinning him was constantly clawing with its face, trying to get at his own. A pressing pain shot whenever it stepped to adjust its stance.

He didn’t know how long he could hold them off for.

“What’re you doing?!” he suddenly heard Conar shout.

He risked a glance, seeing Conar swiping against his opponent, stealing glances towards him as well.

“Wait ‘till the thing lunges and then stop blocking!” he continued between grunts. “C’mon, that’s Combat Wranglin’ 101!”

“What?!” Slim cried. “The thing’ll bite my head off!”

“Then roll, stupid! You gotta get out of there!”

Slim gulped, eyeing the beast staring at his own face. Its head tilted and clicked. And then it attacked again. He pulled the spear close, rolling aside as the Paramite lost its balance. It tumbled into the mud, but it was clear that it wouldn’t be prone for long. Slim took the opportunity to stand up and back towards Conar, his spear ready for either Paramite he had been dealing with.

Conar was spending much of his time rolling, continuing to slash at his own assailant before finally getting a good hit with his claws, causing the Paramite’s leg to fall off at the knee. It immediately fell over, crying out in pain. Conar didn’t have time to celebrate his victory, though; there were two more foes to deal with.

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[a-table-of-fics]

Oddworld: Conar’s Ambition, Chapter 13, Draft 1, Part 20

He brought his arms to his sides and leaned forward. Sure enough, his condensation-covered visor became clear once more, and his lungs began yearning for air rather than nicotine again. Just a few twitches from his tail prevented him from tumbling aimlessly, though he still found himself wobbling more than he’d like. His arms helped stabilize, but he bobbed towards the surface if he didn’t paddle downwards.

He kept this in mind as he resurfaced for one last gulp of air. Skimming on the surface felt great, but all this diving felt… unnatural.

To his horror, he found that the way in was grated. Thick wooden poles crossed to keep anything or anyone from sneaking in that way. He could tell as he approached that he couldn’t hope to squeeze through, and as he tried to strike, the flowing waters made his arms too sluggish to make any good cuts.

He was up against the grate now and he was starting to worry.   Not only was he feeling the pain from his lungs, but he wasn’t sure he could swim away now. His fatigue mixed with the current was keeping him pinned to the grate. Maybe he could push off and turn back quickly, before anyone spotted him…

No! He made it too far to be stopped without a fight! He slowly climbed up, taking a sputtering breath before daring to look around. He didn’t see any Mudokon feet tromping towards him, or any sign of Mudokons at all. He decided he could tread water for a moment. Looking up, he could see that the wall was far thicker than the grate that was stopping him, expertly cut. The grate, too, was well-carved, but it was clear they had to insert each piece. Conar considered this, and took another deep breath.

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[a-table-of-fics]

Oddworld: Conar’s Ambition, Chapter 13, Draft 1, Part 19

Whenever he was beneath the surface, he noticed the occasional fish and (oh, what was the word…?) ambivalent float by, not at all concerned by the rapids. Then again, if the water was rushing to meet them, why would they resist that? They didn’t have to gasp for air the way Conar was. Something in him resented that as he struggled to keep upright.

Don’t use your arms, an instinct older than Conar whispered. Your tail will keep you steady.

What’re you talking about? replied the untrained need for self-preservation. We gotta keep clear of the rocks, and we need to, y’know, not drown?

True, but hear me out: your thrashing isn’t doing a good job of that. You’ll need your energy for if things get really bad. You can go back to flailing then, all right?

Well, okay, but if I die, I’m takin’ ya with me, you got that?

No argument there.

The debate of instincts having been resolved, Conar let his arms splay out for stability, letting his tail do the moving. He quickly found that while some water was still getting into his mouth, it was a far cry from how it was before, and his tail was doing a good job of keeping him facing forward. He could see the wooden wall of the Mudokon village up ahead, and just as he suspected, there was a grate under it for the water and hopefully himself to go through. It would be a good time to dive, though those ancient impulses were shockingly quiet on that matter. Maybe it was a teachable moment or something.

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[a-table-of-fics]

Oddworld: Conar’s Ambition, Chapter 13, Draft 1, Part 4

“We ain’t eatin’ that carcass,” he mirthlessly laughed, to try and lighten the mood. “I think I’ve been put off Paramite Pies for a while…”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

Slim sighed. He doubted either of them would have the energy to hunt, either. Maybe it’d be better to forage; he remembered rumors of trees making food ingredients for free. He wondered where they might do that, though, given how static the things are. If the art on drink cans told him anything, it was that the food is always vibrant, and always close to the green.

Of course, packaging taught him that Paramites were friendly and happy pie filling, too, but what else did he have to go on?

Well, the tops of the trees had more leaves, so maybe there were Opples or something there. He focused his attention upwards, trying to find any hint of fruits up there. Nothing around them, but some of the trees on the other side of the water seemed to have something round and bright green hanging off their branches.

“Somethin’ over there!” he called out. “Those look promising!”

“Best lead we got,” Conar shrugged, before gesturing for Chairman to walk into the water once more. He started to dip his toes onto the same path he used to get here, but quickly yelped and ran back onto land.

“What is it, boy?” Conar asked, before seeing the shadow moving beneath the surface. It was one rigid body, but many thick limbs could be seen. He gawked as their pathway swam off, but was at least grateful it wasn’t another fight.

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[a-table-of-fics]

Oddworld: Conar’s Ambition, Chapter 12, Draft 1, Part 6

The two other Paramites backed up, keeping their faces towards the duo. Their fingers twitched slightly. Conar clambered onto Slim’s back, prepared to give backup as Slim kept his spear steady.

Then the Paramites howled. It was a raspy squeal from both of them, and it shook Slim to his core. Conar had issues staying on Slim as the Mudokon stood up and took a step back.

“What the hell? We gotta take ‘em out before…”

“I… d-don’t think it’ll just be them anymore.”

Conar stopped struggling to take a look at their foes, and realized Slim was right. His eyes widened when he heard more than two voices in the howl.

There was rustling in the vegetation around them, loud enough to sound like it was coming from all sides. The two of them looked around, making sure none of their current Paramites were making a move towards them. All that was happening on their front was the three-legged one slowly circling in a sad limp, joining its companions.

The howls were getting closer, but still echoing all around.

“Where can we go?” shouted Slim.

“Not sure, not sure…”

Conar kept his claws out over Slim’s shoulders, but noticed the Ratz in the trees were still staring. Damn things took his weapon and now they were going to enjoy his violent death? He grunted, but then he noticed they were tilting their heads, squeaking frantically. He turned to where they were pointing to see a clearing, and realized they were all trying to communicate a means of escape.

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[a-table-of-fics]

Oddworld: Conar’s Ambition, Chapter 13, Draft 1, Part 14

Any more detail was lost when two Mudokons appeared from thin air, aiming bright blue shooters at the duo. They had massive feathers on their elbows, as well as one vibrant plume on their heads.

“Halt,” said the one on the left. It wasn’t strictly necessary with their masked glares and the weapons pointed at the two foreigners, but it was to be expected.

Conar nodded. He was outranked, for sure. He was able to keep Chairman from snarling with a few gentle scratches, but the rest of the pack was shifting, some letting out warning growls.

“Doubt you can put those in the pens,” the other guard remarked matter-of-factly. “They’d scare the Elums.”

“Come on,” said Slim, ignoring the pecking order, “We just need a place to stay. I know they’ll behave, but if you want, we could find someplace outside to store them…”

“And your pet?” asked one of the guards, pointing right at Conar.

“’Ey! I’m nobody’s pet—”

“Oh, lookit that, it talks!”

Conar tensed as the two laughed, but Slim’s hand on the small of his back reminded him of the situation, and he settled for a grumble and glare at those wooden masks.

“My friend here knows how to tame Slogs,” Slim said. “Surely that could come in handy?”

“Most of their kind know better than to come here at all!” exclaimed a guard, bringing his bow closer to Conar’s temple. The two stared at each other, both ready for action at any moment.

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Oddworld: Conar’s Ambition, Chapter 13, Draft 1, Part 2

Rolling to evade another pounce, Slim heard something crack beneath him, and it certainly didn’t sound like stone. He saw a single digit peeking from the rubble, and knew what he had to do.

Lifting stones, he soon revealed the battered and bloodied corpse of a Paramite. He grimaced.

It wasn’t terribly hard to get pieces up to toss to the attacking Slogs. The hard part was getting to all of them to pat their heads while they were still chewing on Paramite. The issue was that he was still unsteady after being under the rocks for so long, and he had to watch for any Slogs that might still want a piece of him instead.

Tossing the bits would only get him so far, so as he was doing that to distract them, he continued to dig the carcass up. To his shock, all the Slogs had stopped going after him and each other, instead all going for the mess of meat. Some shoved against each other, growling lightly, while others climbed on top of each other. Even Chairman joined, much to Conar’s chagrin.

Well, that made it easier.

Slim went around, passing bits to assorted Slogs and petting others. While he wasn’t sure they’d consider him a friend, they’d at least see him as someone who’s better alive than dead.

“You know,” Slim said, “maybe you’re right about ‘em. We could use a whole pack.”

“I dunno,” Conar groaned, from under some Sloggies, “maybe this is too much.”

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Oddworld: Conar’s Ambition, Chapter 13, Draft 1, Part 1

Slim wiped the dust off his face, opening his eyes to be greeted with many a mud-caked Slog. Several of them were being held back by others, including one that was carrying a beaming Conar.

“Whaddaya think?” Conar asked. “Our own personal pack!”

Slim coughed and looked around. From the growls and sometimes forceful shoves or toothy pulls, he was hard-pressed to believe this was one pack.

“I don’t know…” he groaned, “Can… can we keep ‘em all from eating us?”

“Chairman did a pretty good job of savin’ my ass!” Conar said proudly, before grunting as Chairman shook more violently. “And he had some buds with him!”

“Y-yeah… but I don’t think THEY’RE AS WELL-TRAINED AS—”

A Slog had broken from the crowd, letting out a roar before tackling Slim to the ground. It immediately tried to tear into his chest, only being stopped by that armor. It growled in frustration before being shoved aside by another Slog.

“Hey, hey!” Conar shouted. “None of that!”

Even the wild Slogs stopped for a moment before snarling and snapping at each other again.

“Gotta get their trust again!” he continued, frantically looking around. “But what could we feed ‘em? C’mon, c’mon…”

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Oddworld: Conar’s Ambition, Chapter 13, Draft 1, Part 11

Conar gestured towards the branches, with green eyes staring back down at the duo.

“…The Ratz were giving us a hand. Maybe they’ll help those Muds out, too.”

Slim looked up incredulously.

“Those things? For real? You think those vermin’ll—”

“Not those Ratz, stupid! There are Ratz there, too. If they can guide us somewhere, they can probably guide those Mudokons, too.”

Slim frowned for a moment before sighing.

“Well, here’s hopin’ they do,” he finally conceded. “Guess all we can do is find a place to sleep.”

“I guess so. I don’t wanna go into whatever they use for Slog Huts around here. There’s a reason we sent you guys to clean ‘em back home.”

“Yeah, and there’s a reason we had you guys scout ‘em out first!”

“I knew it!”

The two laughed loudly before quickly hushing. They were still in the wild, after all.

“Well,” Conar finally said, as nothing was coming, “any idea where we should go?”

“Start by gettin’ a job, hippies!”

Conar reflexively swiped, barely missing the giggling Chippunk as it disappeared into the brush again.

“Hang on,” Slim interjected, stepping forward. “Lookit that!”

“I know, can’t waste my energy—”

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Oddworld: Conar’s Ambition, Chapter 12, Draft 1, Part 14

He might have laughed had that not been too much effort. Here he was, finally free from slaving away and running away, and he was even more trapped than before. Even his companion had run off, who knows where to, and Slim couldn’t know if he was still alive or even looking for a way to help him.

Then he heard barking. It was all too similar to his former workplace, rubbing it in even further. It was even getting closer, like those times he had to clean the pens of untrained Sloggies. He’d be surprised if he didn’t still have bite marks on his butt from those assignments. At the very least, he didn’t have the Slig spectators to go along with it.

He swore, sometimes he saw Conar outside the pen with the rest. He laughed with the rest of them, but was never the one to shove him in, nor did he ever talk about betting. In hindsight, that was weird.

His train of thought derailed as he heard the barking come closer. He soon heard footsteps that became louder and louder before climbing above him. Once they reached what he could only guess was the peak, to his distress, they stopped walking, but continued barking in anticipation.

“Alright, boys,” he heard Conar say. “Dig!”

Slim couldn’t help but smile as he heard the Slogs growl and rock start to shift. In the distance, the sound of stone falling started to give a good rhythm to the whole thing.

“I hope you’re still not Slog meat,” Conar called down, “‘cause you gotta see this!”

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Oddworld: Conar’s Ambition, Chapter 13, Draft 1, Part 9

“Sure, if they let me use it anywhere!”

Slim shook his head.

“You really didn’t think this through, didja?”

“Hey, you followed me out here! You coulda stayed with those junkyard Muds if you wanted to. Why did you—”

“You said we’d be hunted down! But… what we did… I’m sure they’re gonna be itchin’ to toast our asses even more after all this!”

“We woulda been hunted down!” Conar replied. “Clunk had my name and registration; with you outta the motel, I think they’d put two and two together.”

Slim stood up with a start, glaring at Conar.

“You mean to tell me we left those Mudokons to die at the hands of a search party?”

“No, no!” Conar exclaimed. “We got those Slogs tamed. If anything is found, those Slogs won’t be telling no one!”

“But what if one of our friends is out there when they arrive? Or they think that monster crap was some kind of vandal?”

Conar was about to say something, but stopped. Slim did have a point, and despite the first impressions, Conar had to admit those guys weren’t doing anything worse than he was. At least they didn’t rope an underling into their own revenge story.

“…Look, I dunno. But what can we do? We’re in the middle of nowhere, in case you haven’t noticed. We gotta look out for ourselves out here.”

“Augh!” Slim replied, storming off. He didn’t go far, but it was enough to make a point.

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