Aghilas’s Sunday night odd encounter(Aghilas)

July 7, 2025

Date: 2025-07-06 04:29

(Aghilas’s Sunday night odd encounter(Aghilas):Aghilas)

[Sun Jul 6 2025]

In Room 701, Four Seasons/span>/spanThe seventh floor suite presents a spacious layout with floor-to-ceiling
windows dominating the eastern wall, offering an unobstructed view of the
Atlantic Ocean. Cream-colored walls complement the neutral palette of the
furnishings, which include a king-sized bed with crisp white linens, a
sitting area with two upholstered chairs and a glass-topped table, and a
writing desk positioned to take advantage of the natural light. The polished
hardwood floors are partially covered by a thick area rug in muted tones of
beige and grey. A flat-screen television is mounted on the wall opposite the
bed, while bedside tables in dark wood hold modern lamps with fabric shades.
The entrance area features a closet with mirrored doors and a small console
table bearing a house phone and hotel directory. Through a doorway, the
marble-appointed bathroom is visible, its surfaces gleaming under recessed
lighting. The room’s controlled climate maintains a consistent temperature
regardless of the season, while blackout curtains can be drawn across the
windows when desired. The distant sound of waves is barely audible through
the sealed windows, creating a subtle reminder of the ocean’s proximity./span>/spanIt is about 55F(12C) degrees. The mist is heaviest At Constitution and Blackstone/span>/span(Your target has been hexed and transformed into an animal against their will. Unable to turn back they need to try to find allies who can understand their problem and find a way to undo the curse.
)

As Dante lays in his bed, he suddenly finds himself usurped by forces unknown and not of this world. Perhaps it is a curse from a past lover, or maybe it’s by a rapper who sold his soul to a demon in exchange for a diss by Dante during a rap battle that had left him humiliated, his career broken, shamed. Regardless of what it is, a feeling of tightness suddenly grasps Dante’s chest, and a feeling of unease settles in his undead body. As if he had become mortal again and was suffering from a heart-attack, the feeling surges, and twists…

And then Dante opens his eyes, still in his bed, yet he is on belly first on the bed. And seemingly on all fours. And rather scaly. His eyes no longer look ahead of him, but to the sides, as if they were on the side of his head.

Dante resorts to a most mortal ploy, a fleeting hope for a small comfort thinking he might still be dreaming, but he doesn’t recall when he fell asleep nor does he recall waking up. The peculiar pain which begins in his chest but courses to permeate through the rest of his body activates a self-defense mechanism that is always on a hair trigger. Rage, usually destructive in capability yet clever in application, fizzling out like the light of a firebug when exposed to the lethality of insecticide. He looks around, finding everything so strange, unable to accustom himself to any of this. Above all trying to figure out what the fuck he now is.

While Dante trashes around in his bed, he would catch a glimpse of who — or more specifically, what — is in his bed from the reflection on the flat-screen television. Instead of the big swamp man lies a giant fucking alligator, slimy and scaly. The beast is huge, far larger than a regular alligator, threatening to crush the bed under its weight as the Dantegator gets accustomed to his new form. It seems, unfortunately for Dante, that he has been put under a hex and has been turned from a hunter into what he has hunted.

There’s quite the commodity in the Four Seasons today, it seems, as Kurt and Silas receive reports of some supernatural activity in the hotel. Upon entering, they would be directed towards Room 701 by the staff, who allow them the use of a one-time keycard to enter; and when they do, they find that the room is pretty much untouched except for a huge fucking American crocodile trashing around on the giant kingsized bed, pillows everywhere, sheets slimy as the animal squirms and writhes as if it is under a hellish amount of cocaine.

Dante never in his right mind would assume that he were turned into an alligator because he’d been hunting them, in reality he’s always viewed them as kin. Granted he also never expected to be turned into one… assuming that’s what’s happening here. Lifting a scaly limb up and stomping it back down again as the body horror nightmare persists well into what should be the world of consciousness. Is he truly now an alligator? How the fuck should he know? An odd predicament for sure and one the playa does not have an immediate remedy for… or any remedy for. It is however unlikely that suddenly being turned into a reptilian beast has diminished his appetite for violence. The unnaturally large alligator staring at Kurt and Silas inquisitively. It seems to smirk with its alligator teeth. Far. Too. Many. Teeth.

Silas was actually staying in the hotel at the time he’d heard of a ruckus on the 7th floor. He’d talk his way into that keycard anyway and, with an annoyed expression that very quickly turns into brow-furrowing consternation, he stops short past the doorway to peer at the bed, and then at Kurt. “Kurt. The fuck happened to this guy?”, he asked.

Kurt glances towards Silas as the pair walk towards the room, cracking a smile for an, admittedly, abysmally poor joke. “So a dog and a leech walk into a bar…” As the door opens however, he comes up short. Now that’s not how this punchline was supposed to go. Eying the Floridian swamp cat with some skepticism, he glances towards Silas, then back to the creature, then back to Silas. “… Did it just fucking smirk at me?”

Silas snorted, but also then shrugged dramatically at Kurt as a hand automatically reached for the mace he had strapped behind his back just as a precaution.

As the chosen crisis team members, the two men have now ended up face-to-face with the predator of the Bayou. It is a strange sight. The only hints as to what the nature of the alligator on the bed may be is a gauche, burgundy colored, real sick looking pimp coat that’s currently on the floor near the bed. And maybe the fact that the alligator’s scales are a little darker than is natural for one, though that savvy, cold smile is certainly not usual either!

Silas grumbles quietly as he unsheathes his mace. “Fuck me, I’m pretty sure that’s Dante,”, he murmurs as he holds his weapon forward and assumes a stalking sort of posture as he circles Dante. “Gotta take him in… alive. Knock him out,”, he then bids.

Dante enacts the biggest irony of this ridiculous situation in that he could be perceived as looking for some sunlight to soak in. A far cry from the needs of his usual form. he takes on the unnatural stillness alligators are known to be capable of, becoming a silent statue stalking with sinisterness emanating from him? It? The creature is one step away from soaring toward its prey, whatever that prey may be, grinding its teeth in an all too human expression of frustration, or perhaps rage, maybe even both. The bed creaks below the beast–then! One of the bed’s legs snaps! And another! It whips its tail that could break a man’s neck should he dare to get on the wrong end of it. There is no charge, however, only stillness.

Kurt furrows his brows, glancing down at the coat. The remains of a previous meal, or a hint towards the issue at hand? Either way, there’s no situation here where wrestling a bayou water dragon turns out well for anyone. “Alright… Alternately, assuming that *is* Dante?” He strides on up, a brow raising. “Are you going to bite a hand or head off, Mister Savoy? Or are you going to cooperate while we try to figure out how… This… Happened?”

*SNAP!* goes the bed’s leg, finally succumbing to the weight of the reptilian, sending the alligator tumbling to one side as the bed shifts, tilts and then crashes like the Titanic. Despite the stubby little legs and the giant fucking body, the Dantegator still has a real low center of gravity, and while he does go rolling onto the floor, he manages to find himself on four legs regardless.

What is, unfortunate however, is that the Dantegator has rolled straight onto that pimp coat, leaving it covered in slime. If you didn’t know about the alligator, you likely wouldn’t want to be asking questions about what /could/ have happened to leave it so… sticky. Thank God it isn’t the case here.

Silas has tried to shift himself to the other side of the bed in an attempt to at least flank the alligatorised Dante, but he too has done heroic charge into battle – simply hopping up above any potential splinters when the bed collapsed. “Yo, Dante… shit, uh, you in there somewhere, playa? Fuckin’ gesture or somethin’,”, he urges the reptile from where he is, still in hackled defensive mode.

Dante makes a convincing show of scanning around the area like a Yautja, missing only the laser sight that would more adequately reveal where he is about to strike. The frustration wells up inside of the mega-gator and he looses not a growl but a low *HISSSSSHHSSSSSH* that transitions into a homicidal *GHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.* The sonic wave causing a slight tremor across the floor as the creature violently whips, inadvertently smashing itself into a wall before another deep, rumbling bellow. ‘I have no mouth and I must scream,’ would apply here quite nicely, as Dante would likely attest if he still had the ability to speak. In a show of whatever intelligence might remain the beast snaps the pimp coat into its jaws with strange carefulness, and whips its head to have the coat fall onto its back like it’s supposed to be there.

Kurt eyes the flopped gator warily, before letting out a soft sigh. “I’m going to regret this… I *know* I am.” Shaking his head, the vampire nods once. “Alright, Mister Savoy… Let’s get you somewhere a tad more secure and better staffed than here. Coretech, maybe? Likely the best place for you, as for figuring out what, exactly, is wrong with you.” Aside, to Silas, he merely nods once, hand flattening and pressing downward. Steady, steady.

Silas can’t help but scoff when croco-@playa actually put his coat to order in the distance, meeting Kurt’s nod with a quip of, “Yeh, that’s him in there,”, before he at least lowers his hackles and moves on over to the other side of the now-literal swamp monster opposite Kurt. “Yeh, bro, we need to get ya somewhere safe so, like. Try to chill and we’ll solve this over at Coretech aite?”

Silas at least has the muscles to assist in a noticeable manner if any carrying will be involved.

Whatever may be at play here – a hex, a curse, or just shapeshifting gone wrong – at least the Dantegator looks pimp as fuck in his coat on the back of its stubby body. Really, maybe there’s a new fashion trend here, burgundy with green and all. Kurt seems to have the smartest idea, as Silas certainly isn’t equipped to deal with the Dantegator except for maybe smashing its skull in with a mace — but then things de-escalate.

Ah, CoreTech, the specialists when it comes to supernatural problem solving. Likely not the first man-turned-reptile they’ll be contending with.

https://i.imgur.com/vXUANkh.png

Dante possesses none of the usual rhythm in his step in this form, looking more likely a four legged penguin waddling along toward Kurt, hissing and bellowing in what must pass for the exasperating sighs and murderous curses of an alligator. He looks at dry-faced’s arms and lets out more of a low whine, so unconvinced is the gator that it is low-key roasting the man without the ability to say a goddamn word. He probably weighs around half a ton in super-alligator form so good luck with that. Regardless the situation remains nonviolent as the gator strides toward the door like it justs knows where it is. Waddle, waddle, waddle, then it gets lodged in the doorway. Go figure.

Kurt tries to bite back a laugh at the sight of a supersized sewer dragon getting itself lodged in the doorway. He really does try, he swears. “Maybe, ah, if you roll onto your side? Try and push yourself through that way?” It’s not every day you see the cousin of Crocodile Dundee getting itself stuck like a dog in a cat flap, and the vampire is definitely enjoying the spot of amusement.

Four Seasons is -not- pet friendly. The Dantegator gets stuck in the doorway, unfortunately, and as its fat body gets stuck in between the walls the very walls of the room shake. The goddamn coat doesn’t make it any easier, either, adding an extra layer onto the already wide, thicc body.

Silas has to fucking bury his face into a palm to prevent himself from bursting into laughter – roasted as he was from where he’s standing, this is sweet, sweet karma – though let it not be said this wolf did not do his part for the Hand. Once his chuckles are stifled, he strode forth and stepped right over the Dantegator – with a sharply huffed ‘rekt’ levied down at him – before attempting to clear whatever small crowd may have gathered between 710 and the elevator. Nothing to see here, folks.

Dante would appreciate if nobody in this motherfucking scenario wasted any mental bandwidth on ANY kind of ‘THICCNESS’ it may or may not possess. The ‘Dantegator’ does itself/himself no favors when it lets its annoyance overflow its capacity to contain it. It tries to wrestle the doorway into deathroll, swinging its tail wide from side to side as sounds of the door frame suffering under the violent assault ring out amidst the sudden explosion of aggressive energy. “GGHHRHRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!” It turns, it turns, and it turns again, twisting madly until the door frame finally gives way and bends, much like a cartoon where an exact silhouette of a character is left behind after they ram their way through a wall. The gator waddles on. He waddles on.

As the fierce feline in all the bayou waddles its way towards the elevator, there’s not much for Kurt to do beyond make his way to the elevator, ensuring its presence by the time the flippy-flaps of an alligator waddling its way down a hallway arrive at the elevator. Somewhere in here, however, he has the presence of mine to call out to Silas, “Question… Do you or any of your people have a pickup? I don’t feel like having my rear fender scrape the ground today.”

“AIIIIIIIIYAHHHHHHHHHH!” is heard from the hallway when the giant gator crashes through the doorframe and onto the corridor, and almost slams into a 20-year old something blonde on his waddling out. She twists, four inch stilettos making it difficult to run, only to stop in her tracks as he notices the pimp coat. Her eyes narrow as her brain attempts to discern what it’s seeing. New Haven is a strange town, but pimpgators are far, far too strange for even the usual residents.

Her brain shortcircuits and she just takes a few steps back to just stare at the lizard as it continues on its merry way towards its destination – CoreTech.

Unfortunately for the group on their way to the elevators, they are now faced with an additional challenge: the plaque in front of the elevators, a bright red, proudly declares a warning for them to behold.

60WARNING: MAX 5 PEOPLE, 500KG

Silas looks back to Kurt after he’d talked a few people away from the path of the jolly gator. “Doubt motorcycles can carry this motherfucker, no – and I’m not sure my Cadillac can carry him either. Might need a truck or something,”, he theorises, and lo and behold, the sheer weight of the Pimpagator becomes a hurdle that has to be solved. The man peered at the signage with an even drier face than the Sahara, and he sighs. “Well what the fuck do we do now. Stairs? Guess that’s time we got to order in a fucking semi.”

Kurt lets out a soft sigh, nodding. “Stairs, it is… Though, honestly, a half-ton gator? If you know any rednecks, now would be a lovely time to call up Duke, Bubba, and Jim, because I’m *sure* one of them has a pickup that’s rated for two thousand.” Turning to face the gator directly, he shakes his head. “I don’t know how you found yourself in this circumstance, Mister Savoy, but I’m *sure* we’re going to be having a conversation about it later.”

The stairs are right there, their path to salvation and a way out. Thankfully due to fire safety regulations, they -are- wide enough to host an alligator that he could reasonably walk down them without getting stuck again.

Silas takes out his phone starts tapping out a text. ‘Julius get the fuck up and bring in a pickup or something, dont fucking care if you have to boost it just get to 4Seasons pronto. back entrance’. Once he’s done, he attempts to usher the Pimp-tile towards the stairwell. “We gotta take the stairs playa, you too FAT for the lift.”, he quips.

It’s 6AM and Julius is awoken by Silas’s phone call, which leads to some grumbling, but a favor is a favor and the Syndicate never turns away one. The request is acknowledged and the man is told that they’ll be sending something to help out, and they should be there in around fifteen minutes or so.

Dante is the opposite of jolly, so anti-jolly that he in fact *SNAPs* his gator jaws at anyone foolish enough to try to take his place in the elevator. A rumbling, behemoth, beast, bellowing imminent death–his aura of eminent threat telling that he’s willing to kill over this. There is no hustler suaveness or chill here, just a cold homicidal appetite to see himself back to normal as soon as possible. Violence in man is sometimes blamed on the ‘reptile brain’ and right now this man is all reptile, the peril is in him now also being able to snap most people in two without breaking a sweat… do alligators sweat? Against the wisdom of his companions he tries to slam his way into the elevator anyway, bashing his reptilian shoulders into the sliding door thoughtlessly snapping his enormous weight forwards… for an indeterminable amount of alligator minutes. Alas, he eventually gives up and heads down the stairs.

Silas wags his smartphone at Kurt. “Got a guy coming, back entrance, fifteen.”

Kurt nods once, warily eying the crowd that seems to be following the most unusual thing in this hotel: A werewolf and vampire cooperating for a change, without any sass or insults. The gator, obviously, has nothing to do with it. “Got it. Enough time to get this guy squared away, and do a little damage control.” With a look spared for the crowd, the man waves a hand in the all too-recognizable ‘These aren’t the droids you’re looking for’, before turning to depart down the stairs with the gator.

A gator, a vampire, and a werewolf walk into the bar- wrong story. They walk down the stairs. It’s easy enough to navigate to the back entrance, the morning crowd of the Four Seasons parting like the sea for the strange trio. Once they’re there, it takes a few minutes of waiting for their transport to arrive.

Putt putt putt putt putt brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr goes the sputtering engine of the tuk-tuk as it arrives, with a man of Indian descent stepping off with a grin and a wave of his hand at the trio as if it were a completely normal occurence for him. “Hello! I am Tarav Rax. You called for taxi?” he asks, patting the backseat of his auto-rickshaw, the seating worn and old. “Please sit. I take only one of you, yes? The rest follow.”

Dante inevitably reaches the stairs after almost taking a chomp out of some forty-something year old Karen who dared to intrude upon his quest for human-hood. She was probably just going to brunch but almost-killing people is just the way and the mood right now. The stairs though, his not-so-little alligator toes are hovered over the first stair like he’s worried about the temperature of the water. The logistics of this are not great but after a belligerent bellow he tries to walk down the stairs, and this does work well for the first few steps, even if they do creak under his weight. Alligator clumsiness takes hold again and he slides forth, cracking a few safety posts, destroying a poorly placed painting and sliding down every ensuing flight of stairs ripping up rug, damaging wood and eventually crashing through the safety rails at the second to last flight of stairs and landing with a *THWAP* that sounds more like Olympus just sent a tungsten rod down from divine orbit. He rights himself and waddles out angrily to view this ‘transport.’

Kurt takes only *some* offense at his original joke being re-interpreted… But, as they say, there’s no such thing as an original idea. Nodding to the overweight, overintelligent, and thoroughly over everything Floridian swamp cat, the vampire then nods to the apparent taxi driver. “This one needs to get to Coretech offices. For sake of weight… We’ll make our way there.” Turning to the gator as though it’s the most normal thing in the world, the vampire steps forward to open the indicated door, the ghost of a smile across his lips. “Mister Savoy, if you’d be so kind?”

Dante tries to figure out how it’s going to fit in there, looking at the others with as much confusion as a gator can emote through its limited reptilian facial expressions. He opens his mouth, letting his jaw hang in something that could be either confusion, awe, or ‘about to bite you fucking head off.’ All the same to a gator really.

Silas had done his part to part that small sea of people down the stairwell and out of the lobby but then… he really can’t help but bury his face into a hand once more as that jalopy of a rickshaw came into view. “Oh, Julius,”, he grumbles, before shaking his head and opens the backdoor for the gator. “Thanks for coming Mister Rax… please do not mind this demon about to board your vehicle and if you need it silenced… I have a mace.”, he quips, all his sass singularly focussed on Dante and not anybody and anything else.

To give it credit, the back of the tuk-tuk is spacy enough that the Dantegator could probably fit on the seat, if he were to lay it on sideways. The driver of the tuk-tuk glances at his watch, eyes narrowing as he pats the seat again. “I have to attend to a yoga class in the park in an hour! Quick, quick, we must go!” he declares, then hops onto the front of the rickshaw to begin the journey. It looks like with Dante on the back of it, the back is likely going to be scraping and grinding against the floor – not that the driver cares much. That syndicate money must pay, yo.

Dante quips back at Silas with several loud snaps of its jaw like he’s about to bite the offending man who just said those offending words into about twelve different pieces. The gator if nothing else is ridiculously fast when it wants to be, though the ‘Dantegator’ is activating these bursts of speed out of pure accident. It’s like a shounen protagonist who hasn’t learned how to believe yet. In this task he must believe though, he lunges and his front half falls into the backseat, but as much as he tries to scramble the rest of him just won’t go. He’s stuck again.

Silas snickers quietly as he’s snapped at with gusto, and he uses this burst of glee at having offended the pimp-a-saur to try and heave him in full into the rickshaw, double-time, as Mister Rax has appointments and so does Silas. And probably Kurt, too. “Coretech. On the double!”

Kurt just stands back and observes, for the time being. For as much as he would like to help, there’s precious little a two-ten vampire can do against a half-ton gator that got itself stuck. As Silas applies good ol’ elbow grease to the problem, the vampire meanders over to his car. “I’ll meet you there!”

Dante succeeds with the help of Silas man but only after having done significant damage to the vehicle he’s getting into. Too large to properly fit despite the driver thinking it was fine, the gator sticks its head out through the window on the other end and prepares itself for the journey ahead.

Silas manages to push the gator into the back of the tuk-tuk, and without waiting Rax floors it, the brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr echoing throughout the morning haze of the streets as the tuk-tuk flies off towards CoreTech. Well, flies off at a speed of around 30km/h. But the effort is there. It’s easy to follow, and while the tuk-tuk receives a LOT of side-eyes from people wandering around – what the fuck is a gator doing riding in the back of a tuk-tuk – it is New Haven and they aren’t stopped by police, or worse, animal control.

They manage to make it to CoreTech, the tuk-tuk (and hopefully the rest of their vehicles) pulling out up front of the building, where two men in black wearing shades are already waiting. CoreTech knows all, and now for them a gator in a pimp coat is certainly interesting enough to warrant a response.

Silas skrrrts into the next scene in an old-but-new Cadillac sedan and, since he hasn’t even been onboarded whatsoever, simply leans into a car door and watches the gator get processed by the suits, content for now to see his duty done.

Dante happens to be an employee of CoreTech, and even in this shape that could mean something or at least so the man-gator would hope. This time he climbs out of the tuk-tuk all on his own and after barreling out of the vehicle waddles his way toward the building. He does so slowly, however, not wanting to start a confrontation with the security there.

Kurt steps out of his vehicle, stepping up with the gator towards the suited individuals. “Gentlemen. Mister Savoy here has… Suffered some sort of misfortune, as you can see. He is conscious and sapient, so I wouldn’t expect any sort of hostile response. With that said?” He straightens his sleeves, flicking off a bit of… Something gator-related, he’s sure. “He’s all yours.”

Dante emits an agreeable hiss after Kurt gives the security agents at the front a brief rundown of the situation. He then tries his best to make it even clearer that he means to be friendly and so he whips his tail up and down, gesturing like he’s saying ‘yes.’ It also looks like he’s wagging his reptilian tale. How awkward.

Silas snoooorts loudly, perhaps even loudly enough for Dante to hear, all the way over there from the curb, as if to display extreme doubt at this docile and passive stance they had displayed.

The two men in black stare at the pimpgator making its way like a real pimp up the steps of CoreTech. “Sick coat.” one of them mumbles, elbowing the other in the side of the ribs before they clear their throats and get to work. “Right this way, intern.” they say, though one does raise an eyebrow in response to the tail wagging.

Thankfully, they’re professionals, and Dante is allowed into the depths of CoreTech (and so are Silas and Kurt, if they wish to follow) down hushed corridors and into one of their arcane laboratories. The hex on him is a shoddy one, having only changed his physical form but not his mind, and it’s revealed it was enacted by a rapper known as Zozoboy 4000, a known rival of Dante’s from his early days in the alleyway rapping scene of New Orleans. It’s lifted, and the swamp creature is turned back into a man, free of his ex – dressed only in his slimy pimp coat.

(fix. hex not ex lol)

Silas did push himself off his car to follow Kurt and the hater-gator, visibly seething at the chance to see Dante face to face as he’s de-hexed. And when he is, and at their most vulnerable, just after transforming back and scot-free… he cups his mouth with both hands, and makes a Nelson laugh. HA-HA!

Kurt lets out a quiet ‘huh’ as the reptilian rap god is reverted to the normal, non-reptilian variant. There’s something there in the vampire’s expression, before he nods, departing, as evidently his duty is done.

Dante sneers evilly when a homicidal tower of a man again, wrapping his coat all around himself to prevent the lab techs from wanting to study another river monster after the first one had only just been taken care of. He calls somebody up to put a hit out on Zozo right then and there, with a delirium inducing number of specifications as to how he should be ‘sorted out.’ He looks to a Silas man with trademarked pimp caliber cleverness and tells him. “De Bayou man is still a creature of de bayou. And I am wearin only a coat, I will helicopter it and show you what ya MOMMA be workin wit. Boyo.”

Dante then prepares to depart himself.

Silas says “BOYO. “

Silas turns on his heel and follows Kurt out.

Kurt thinks we’re all good here, and would like to thank the SR for a fantastic scene that had him cackling like a madman.

The situation is resolved, and indeed, Dante has been saved from his curse. Thanks for participating!

Silas couldn’t stop laughing at certain awkward moments, curses the SR (in a good way)