The snack that bites back: Unpopping the raptor. Open RP.
((Jurassic Park III incarnation. As I don't want him to be instantaneously popcorned again, he won't attack unless A) he's provoked, and B) you give me permission to have him (try to) munch on your character. Feel free to come meet the confused dino. :D I'm probably heading to bed soon, but I'll reply within a few hours.))
There was a loud thump and clatter as the buttery raptor found himself on a cool stone floor, upside-down, pale belly vulnerable. He gave an indignant screech and promptly righted himself, tail lashing as he raised his head to scent the air. The stench of something utterly alien overwhelmed his senses, making him feel disoriented as he slowly stood and cautiously moved through the room.
Approaching six feet tall and roughly three times as long, he was a bit bulky as raptors went, large even by Isla Sorna standards, with its genetically engineered dinosaurs; he'd evolved from the original InGen raptor sisters. Splotches of red and orange broke up the dark pattern of his skin, and narrow white stripes that ran from his snout to his tailtip, as well as a crown of quill-like spines, clearly distinguished him as a male of the species a certain paleontologist had once said were smarter than dolphins, smarter than primates.
Perhaps it wasn't undue praise. Far from being a mindless killer, within his eyes was a fierce intelligence, demonstrated in the way he methodically investigated his surroundings, all of his senses working to take in and process information. He paused near one of the many kernel-containing glass cases, rubbing his snout against it until he lost interest and moved on. There was much to explore, to discover, and... remember.
He had vague, jumbled memories of being here before, of sprinting through dank corridors and garishly bright rooms; outside in the bitter cold air, through the woods, branches reaching out like arms-a shack, humans, fresh meat...
The slimy coating of butter was compromising his footing, forcing him to crouch lower than usual as he steadily made his way toward the door of the Popcorn Room. Tentatively, he called out for his packmates with a series of low vocalizations, then started to make sharp, resonant sounds that were a cross between chirping and growling. He listened to the echo of his own voice, and wondered if this time he might receive a response.
There was a loud thump and clatter as the buttery raptor found himself on a cool stone floor, upside-down, pale belly vulnerable. He gave an indignant screech and promptly righted himself, tail lashing as he raised his head to scent the air. The stench of something utterly alien overwhelmed his senses, making him feel disoriented as he slowly stood and cautiously moved through the room.
Approaching six feet tall and roughly three times as long, he was a bit bulky as raptors went, large even by Isla Sorna standards, with its genetically engineered dinosaurs; he'd evolved from the original InGen raptor sisters. Splotches of red and orange broke up the dark pattern of his skin, and narrow white stripes that ran from his snout to his tailtip, as well as a crown of quill-like spines, clearly distinguished him as a male of the species a certain paleontologist had once said were smarter than dolphins, smarter than primates.
Perhaps it wasn't undue praise. Far from being a mindless killer, within his eyes was a fierce intelligence, demonstrated in the way he methodically investigated his surroundings, all of his senses working to take in and process information. He paused near one of the many kernel-containing glass cases, rubbing his snout against it until he lost interest and moved on. There was much to explore, to discover, and... remember.
He had vague, jumbled memories of being here before, of sprinting through dank corridors and garishly bright rooms; outside in the bitter cold air, through the woods, branches reaching out like arms-a shack, humans, fresh meat...
The slimy coating of butter was compromising his footing, forcing him to crouch lower than usual as he steadily made his way toward the door of the Popcorn Room. Tentatively, he called out for his packmates with a series of low vocalizations, then started to make sharp, resonant sounds that were a cross between chirping and growling. He listened to the echo of his own voice, and wondered if this time he might receive a response.