Commission for buddy of mine,  HoopDoop, of his two fox characters going south to the equator to help a friend with a little resort project. Granted, there's plenty of native labor down there, but it's always nice to bring in cityslickers for added goofing and buggery.

Valentine and Matt belong to  HoopDoop

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Movedicas: Blunder in Paradise

That happy sun: the giver of life, worshipped by billions since the dawn of man, and the perfect companion for a subtropical excursion. Indeed, when combined with the sea breeze and white beaches, it seemed positively Baywatchian, for lack of more sophisticated terms.

But when paired with these particular tourists, well... sometimes, there really isn't a point in being theatric. Fresh off the literal boat, a pair of vulpine figures stood upon the dock. Matt, a trim and fit arctic fox shoved right into a place as far from the arctic as you could get, and Valentine, a feminine and suitably haughty figure of modest curves and immodest sassitude. To say nothing of their outlooks, even their outfits couldn't be more dissimilar, the poor male hefting a heavy rucksack stuffed with supplies, tanned khakis with a vest and shirt, and capped with a pith helmet, specially designed to let those pointy ears poke free.

Valentine, meanwhile... well, Matt could experience the joys of heatstroke all he wanted. She, on the other hand, seemed content with little more than a magenta-print sarong skirt and an equally breezy top, her white midriff exposed to the open air. She wasn't planning on sweating up a storm here.

"Uh, Val," Matt queried as he teetered a bit, "you COULD help me with the supplies. It'd make this go waaay faster."

Her scoffing was answer enough, though Val wasn't content to leave it at that. "Why'd you even bring all that junk? We're just here for a summer job, not finding El Dorado. Besides, just ask the guys on the boat to--"

Before she was even halfway done speaking, the vessel that dropped them off had already pulled up anchor and cast off into the sea, prompting a long glare from the foxes, the male more surprised and the female more irritated. The travel agency would be getting one hell of a scathing review, assuming they'd even make it back to civilization.

"Forget it," she grumbled, already padding down the dock and towards the towering palms separating the beach from the dense jungle that lay ahead. They were already wasting precious time.

"Hey, wait up!" Matt painfully re-shouldered his pack before hurrying after her, pulling out a folded map from his vest pocket. "Pike said we had to follow the path, like -the- path through here!"

"So?"

"-So,- how're we supposed to help him and his cousins out when we're lost?"

"Matt, don't be a dope. You know what 'preturnatural' means?"

As far as he was concerned, nobody knew what that word meant. But best to just humor her. "...A flattering term I could apply to you?"

"Precisely. You're looking at someone with a -preturnatural- sense of direction." Sometimes, Val just got into these know-it-all states, as if some audience were there to ooh and ahhh at her talents. Matt knew it meant trouble, though out here it meant running afoul of Mother Nature, the cruelest caretaker of all.

"...Val, maybe we should--" He ducked a low-lying frond as they trekked along, still holding the map in one hand. "Can we just -stop- for one second and check the map? It'll only take a second. Please?"

The vixen did stop, though given her glare and crossed arms she clearly wasn't having it. "Matt, do you even know how to read a map at all?"

"Sure I do! It's the easiest thing." He unfolded the paper, thereby ensuring he'd never be able to get it folded to its former shape ever again. "First, you find a landmark--"

His lesson was cut short by an immediate snapping sound, the chart suddenly crumpling in half at the middle before being yanked from his hands. He was spared a paper cut, though found himself staring right at the clamped maw of a very toothy-looking venus flytrap. A specimen that large looked tough enough to bite one's arm off... though in Matt's case, the villainous weed just gave him a sneer, chewed the paper a few times more, and rustled back off into the surrounding brush.

Well, so much for being prepared. He was really looking forward for an excuse to use that compass and sextant he bought, too.

"Are you done with your rugged explorer fantasy?" Val seemed unfazed by the cocky plantlife. If anything, she'd have given the thing a pat on the head for being such a pest to Matt. "I told you, sense of direction. Everything's right up here." A confident tap of her temple with an index finger. That's how you let your dopey friends know what's what. "Besides, the map said the resort's somewhere further in, right?"

"Well, yeah, but--"

"So what're you worried about?" Val continued along, a confident sway in her stride.

"Besides plants biting my face off? C'mon, Val, let's just... wait around the dock, someone else'll show up, we can ask them for directions!"

"Didn't you bring a machete?"

"The agency wouldn't let me take it on the boat." Said with more than a little disappointment. That thing wasn't cheap, -and- he'd looked so dashing with it, too.

"Then you'll just have to improvise." Turning to give him a snooty, over-the-shoulder glance, Val kept on strutting. "Face it, Matt: you can't argue with instinct. It's gotten me this far, and it'll take us all the way to the--"

Underpaw, the soil had always been a sandy, if pleasant consistency. Given the jungle's humidity, it was only natural it'd be a -little- damp here and there. But the vixen was so busy chastizing her friend that she'd scarecely noticed just how much wetter it had gotten. The first few steps were nothing more than light plaps, a slight jiggling against the surface, but after a few more moments...

Gloop.

"...huh?" Val hated interruptions, especially interruptions that kept her from chiding Matt. Whatever this was, it'd better be good as she looked down.

It was most assuredly -not- good. All that confident trekking had led her right into a tanned, golden-brown clearing. More importantly, a gently bubbling clearing of very damp and gooey sand, the stuff already glomming happily to her paws before glubbing towards her ankles, sealing them in sticky warmth.

Some leadership quality -she- had: not even a half-hour spearheading their hike and already she'd fallen for the oldest peril in the book. Biting her lip, she grunted and fidgeted, trying to yank either foot loose from the earth. The surface merely stretched a few inches upward, forcing the opposite leg down in kind. Matt was lucky enough to have been lagging a few feet behind her.

"Val! You're--"

She growled before he could finish. "I know it's quicksand, stupid! I've seen movies!" Certainly the stuff had that corny, pulp-movie quality to it, gurgling noisily as the mess settled in around her shins. As the mire sifted against her digits and soles, she gave another snarl Matt's way. "Well? Don't just stand there! Do something!"

"Huh? ...oh! Right!" Poor Matt, it wasn't often one got a good look at their friend in... admittedly, not such a bad peril. Sure, it was swallowing her by degrees, making such delightful little bubbling noises, settling into her fur and occasionally flicking strands and splatters of golden silt up higher--

"Matt!!"
Val's yelling brought him back to reality. Oh, right. Rescuing the damsel in distress. "...r-right, sorry." Skirting the edge of the pit, he frantically pawed through the surrounding bushes, desperate for a length of vine. You'd think a jungle would be teeming with the damn things, but no luck, the bubbling behind him a constant, ticking reminder of his friend's plight.

"Quit smelling the flowers and get me outta here!!" Of course, she had plenty of reason to be fussy: all her squirming had agitated the hungry sands even further, every grain sliding against her flesh and around her knees. Conventional wisdom said struggling only made things worse... but then, it also said that quicksand didn't actually suck people down. And yet there was an undeniable suction, the surface seemingly flowing in on itself, a small depression as the surface buckled beneath her legs.

"Alright, I got something!" Matt finally yanked an old length of vine loose, a teetering stagger as he righted himself. Facing his friend, he weighed the plant in his hands; yeah, sure, no problem. Just toss her one end, like in the movies. He chucked the lifeline over to Val--

But as it sailed through the air, something smacked it aside. The fox blinked, unsure of just what happened, but he could see it plain as day: halfway between him and Val, a heavy tentacle of sand had risen from the earth to knock the vine aside.

Actually, worse than that. It had coiled itself around the other end of the vine, and Matt was still holding on to his length.

"Matt! Let go before it--"

Val's advice came one second too late, the tendril giving a hefty yank that sent the fox sprawling forward with an awkward splatter, the tip of his muzzle smacking right down into the slimy sands. "...! Mmpphn, hrmmph--" His palms pressed flat against the mess, the surface tension holding firm as his face slorped free. Snorting his nostrils free of the slop, he got to his feet...

Or, awkwardly stumbled to his shins, the loosened mess gurgling even louder against him than it had against Val. The added weight of his pack certainly wasn't helping as he pumped those toned legs, each slorp dragging him further and further down.

"Quit messing around!!" Val yelled out, her sarong already fanning out over the surface as the sands kissed her thighs. Hips shifting this way and that, the muck responded by clinging upward, reaching higher up her flesh to settle in and sloowwwly drag her that much further down.

Matt wasn't in a better position, that sandy tentacle swaying threateningly before him. He put up his dukes, a stiff right hook sailing towards the beast. He felt his knuckles graze the creature as it parried, and then coiled itself 'round his entire forearm. Before he even had time to react, the thing whipped him forward. For a moment he feared the suction and motions would dislocate his legs.

Instead, the surface became oddly accomodating, his legs sliding through the mess as though it were a thin slurry. Good news, up until the creature sent him crashing straight into Valentine, the two foxes flopping down into the quicksand with a muffled splash. By the time they'd righted themselves, they were already up to their waists in the mess. Val was -not- impressed with his would-be heroics, delivering a punch and shove against his shoulders. "Get off of me, you oaf!"

"I'm trying, but--" He wheezed out, Val following with a gasp of her own as she felt something tighten across her abdomen. The tendril was already coiling against them, forcing the foxes back-to-back. Or, back-to-backpack as Val felt something stiff from Matt's rucksack poke at her shoulderblade. Damn him for bringing all this junk. Cursing was about all she -could- do as the living ooze coiled about them like an anaconda, the lower bundles of liquid muscle seemingly fusing with the pit's surface. Another squeeze forced a gasp from the stuck furs.

As though getting the squeeze put on them wasn't bad enough, either one felt it, that powerful suction still working over their lower legs, now combined with those mighty loops clinging and tugging them deeper. The entire mushy surface heaved and roiled, excess goop flowing over the shores as the displaced gunk worked that much harder to devour them. Val never once stopped her thrashing, even as the mire met their chests, breath coming that much slower to them.

"Val, I--"

"Oh save it," she snarled in between huffs for breath. "If this is gonna be our last moments on earth, the least you could do is not make it awkward for me."

Well, he couldn't argue with that logic. Ears folded back, he glanced down with a gulp, warm stickiness already encroaching on their shoulders. And to think, all this just so they could help out a friend.

As the goop circled their throats, a low, heavy rustle sounded out before them. Snapping twigs and leaves, the telltale sign of a predator's arrival.

"Oh, great! As if smothering wasn't bad enough, now something's gonna come in and bite our heads off!"

"Val, be quiet!"

"Oh what does it matter now?! It knows we're here anyway!"

The bickering only stopped once their stalker finally showed itself. Slithering out from the brush, a tall, broadshouldered beast of dark, dripping earth, a pair of tightly bundled arms made from coiled roots. An old, weathered skull rested atop it all, a pair of dark orange lights staring hungrily at them as it shook the grassy mantle that hung over its back. With its powerful bulk teeming with liquid muscle, it was clear the thing could cave their heads in without breaking a sweat... assuming it didn't just want to -eat- them, a black tongue running along those old teeth.

The foxes stared up at the beast for a good, long moment.

"...it's about time you sauntered in, Pike! Get us outta here!!" Val squirmed in anger, rage unhindered even as the mess reached her chin.

The beast looked her square in the eye, and then glanced to Matt. "...I thought I told you two to stick to the path."
Matt blushed sheepishly. "I told her to, but--"
"You snitch! You could've stopped me if you reallmmphh--" Val's protests shifted into a series of sassy bubblings, Matt tilting his own head back a bit as the bog devoured them, the tips of their ears and that lone pith helmet remaining above the surface as it bubbled vigorously.

The mudbeast covered his face with a sigh. Good help was so hard to find these days. But, as tempting as it was to leave them, Pike slithered forward, arm slipping down into the mess with ease.
This was going to be one long, painful little project. He could already tell.