The Savage Brawl [Round 5: Battletopia]

Originally posted on MSPA by MyifanW.

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woops. I guess I missed some editing. That's probably the logical concequence of doing it 5 minutes before school.

Originally posted on MSPA by Ixcalibur.

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Ziir had only just landed when the flames had swept over the cave. He braced himself against the heat, his wings protecting him from the brunt of the blast. Thanks to his throw Anarchy had landed further into the cave, beyond where the flames reached. After a minute or so the fire dissipated. He collapsed forwards, his wings shattering as he did so, leaving only bloody stumps behind, and with that his body lost consciousness.

He mentally sighed, resenting that the use of a body was necessary. They were all so fragile, even with the improvements he could give them. He detatched himself from that body and glanced around the cave in search of another one. The obvious choice was that of Doctor Anarchy. It lay a little further into the cave, unconscious and probably only slightly bruised. He dismissed it out of hand. In his experience he had found insanity to be a malfunction of the brain, which of course was part of the body. He needed a body which he would be able to think straight in. Moving past Anarchy he moved deeper into the cave, which sloped steeply downwards. He followed it to the bottom where a large boulder lay, a corpse pinned underneath it by it's legs. Ziir inspected the body. Aside from the crushed legs, which he could fix, it seemed okay.

Ziir entered the body, forcing it back to life. He was quickly accosted by the agony of having both legs crushed underneath a boulder. With blood from around the broken legs he drew three runes. One on his face, one on his chest and one on his left arm. It took a moment but his new body began to throb with pain as it reshaped itself for the first time. The rune on the face was purely a cosmetic change, to blank out the facial features. The rune on the chest had been to generally increase this body's toughness and strength. His hand began to reshape, his fingers retracting and a thick sharp ridge of bone forming in their place. When it was over his hand resembled a chisel made of bone. Ziir utilised it against the boulder, chopping large chunks of rock away, until his legs were free. After that it was a simple couple of runes to reshape his legs. He shakily got to his feet, his new body still racked with pain from the reshaping, and made his way back up the slope.

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I mentioned at the beginning that this is what Ziir does, travel from body to body. Ziir's old body is in pretty bad shape. Dying probably. The Cultivator will likely be having words with Ziir and make him play by the rules.

Originally posted on MSPA by MalkyTop.

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Indeed she will.

Time slowed and then completely stopped.

Eventually, the form of The Cultivator faded into view. "...I guess I should have expected as much from an ancient god of death. How silly of me~ This is a lesson for the future: do research!" The woman looked almost the same but had pencils behind both ears and a notepad that already had many scribblings on it. There were a few more pencils apparently tangled and lost in her hair.

"But really, that's a problem now, isn't it?" Again, she employed the annoying habit of asking questions to those who couldn't even respond. "Because then you have a big advantage. A very unfair advantage. I mean, seriously, nobody can kill you like this, huh?"

She stood and twirled a pencil absent-mindedly before apparently stumbling upon an idea. She pointed the eraser end at Ziir (or...Hank?) and as she moved the pencil in a wide arc, the again-bodiless Ziir was drawn out slowly, reluctantly, following the path she made in the air until finally she pointed at Ziir's old, battered body and he found himself inhabiting it once more. Time moved again. The Cultivator was gone, but her voice lingered.

"Sorry, Ziiry! You gotta get used to being mortal now~" Disoriented, Ziir felt a tingling sensation on his arm. When he pulled back his bloody sleeve, he saw a strange marking that looked red-hot before it cooled to a dull black. "I learned this in the, ah, Rightrain Sector? Something like that! I'd never thought I'd use it! Ha!"

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When binding a formless soul-thingy to a specific body, arcane symbols are a must.

Originally posted on MSPA by Lankie.

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“Ergh…whah?” Dr. Anarchy remerged back into consciousness, she drowsily blinked as she glanced out of the cave, seeing the silhouette Ziir glancing down at his arm. Anarchy walked besides the Death God, seeing its ruined wings. “Ouch. Must'a been some splosion aye?” No response, understandable, what with the lack of face. Dr Anarchy held a cheery smile, before again glancing at Ziir, he was still staring at the markings on his arm. “Oh and…thanks…I guess…I appreciate the whole not killing me thing…and then saving me from an exploding sun…that was pretty cool of y-OH SHIT MY STUFF!”

Dr Anarchy bolted out of the cave she was in, remembering she left all of her equipment and gun out while Ziir carried her away. Breaking out of his momentary trance, Ziir followed Anarchy. She quickly found equipment and gun, conveniently her tools were unscathed, they were designed to be very hardy. Her gun on the other hand, while resilient, took more damage. Great she thought, more repairs, she once again activated the four slender arms from her back pack, pulling out another power core (she had about 3 spares) and began work.

Ziir loomed over Anarchy, still unsure what to do with her. The doctor looked up, goggles over her eyes. “…I spose you want something out of this don't you?...sigh…alright, I don't think I'm prepared for an alliance. The last alliance I tried ended up with my gun clusterfucked! So how about this: I'll ignore you and you ignore me! That way you have one less opponent to think about!...besides, I'm still unarmed, so yeah…at the very least let me finish this gun, then you can start killing me again!”

Originally posted on MSPA by Ixcalibur.

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More continuity! MyifanW said that the 'god of the afterlife' voice only reached people stood in the original cave.

Ziir reached around, gathering some blood from his mangled wings and marked a rune onto his blank face. After a second it reformed; eyes, mouth and nose emerging replacing the blankness.
"No." He said slowly. His voice was calm, but hesitant, it was clear that he was trying very hard to remain calm. That at the moment he was more angry than he had never been before. "We will work together and we will find the Cultivator and we will end her." There was a look of pure hatred in his eyes. "All of us if necessary."

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I never said that Ziir can't talk. He just doesn't like to. He probably won't say anything else for a while, and will probably go back to blank face as soon as the conversation is over. After that he clearly needs to perform some maintenance on himself.

Originally posted on MSPA by Knask.

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reserved
Ugh, it's late and I'm all blank... [img]images/smilies/mspa_reader.gif[/img]
Go on everyone.

Originally posted on MSPA by Lankie.

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Spoilers will be the death of me...edited the thing then...¬¬

Originally posted on MSPA by Ixcalibur.

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Also for clarity when Diego does the voice of the god of afterlife thing he's just talking to people in his cave, right?

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Also, I guess so, yeah. I wasn't thinking about who'd hear it since I thought basically everyone was in the same cave, but that makes sense.

Originally posted on MSPA by Dragon Fogel.

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Konka Rar watched Gormand quietly making his way through the bloodied hall, unnoticed by Hoss.

He wasn't sure what the meatball had planned. Was it going to alert Hoss to their presence? Unlikely; the cyborg had clearly been busy down here for quite some time. When would he have had the opportunity to ally himself with the food-creature?

He then remembered that he had considered Gormand a possible ally against Ekelhaft, but had not yet asked the creature about the nature of its meat-virus. The explosion, and then the voice of the supposed 'god', had occupied his thoughts.

Well, he would just have to ask later. In the meantime, as he waited for Gormand to act, he scanned the area with his cybernetic eye, looking for any sign of the 'ghosts'.

They did not seem to be here. Perhaps they had sought out other bodies to possess, with these ones being unusable for their purposes.

Konka Rar turned his attention to a mostly-intact face nearby; it resembled the zombies he had animated earlier.

It seems astonishingly unlikely that the first three recognizable corpses I encounter here would be triplets, he mused.

He turned to observe Gormand's progress once again. The meatball was nearing Hoss, and moving even more cautiously. The cyborg seemed somewhat inattentive, still attacking the corpse in his hands.

Konka Rar made a mental note to animate that relatively intact corpse if a battle began. He also suspected that if the face was at all recognizable after Hoss' assault on it, it would look quite familiar.

Originally posted on MSPA by Knask.

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[background=#000000:3kcfjosg]Even though Calm was sure that this god of the underworld was planning something obscene, he still for some reason wanted to find him. The reason for this could simply be that Calm had gotten curious, was this god really trapped or was it a ruse? Either way, finding him would probably give Calm some answers; why was he really sent to this place? and who was the Cultivator?

Calm looked over at Konka Rar.
"Well, I guess finding this guy couldn't hurt, or what?"

At this moment however, Konka's attention was at the man kneeling in the middle of a sea of flesh and bones. Hoss, or what had once been Hoss, stood completely still, but seemed more unstable than ever.
Around him, everything was crushed into pieces, and there wasn't s single intact body to see. Or, Konka Rar seemed to have claimed the last one.

But Calm didn't necessary need a whole body to summon assistance, there were other ways. He found a spear lying on the ground, and used it to gather some of the crushed bodies, collecting them into a pile of gore and bones. He then searched a little around and found a somewhat intact human skeleton lying on the floor. He took the skull, and placed it on the top of the pile.

"this should do" he thought to himself.
Though, He would do what he was thinking of only if it became completely necessary, so he let the pile of bodies be for now.

He drew his hellknife, holding it ready in his hand in case something happened.[/background:3kcfjosg]

Originally posted on MSPA by slipsicle.

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[img]images/smilies/apple.gif[/img]

Originally posted on MSPA by slipsicle.

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Sanity, once lost, is excruciating to regain. It comes back in pieces, each a fresh wound upon the mind, lacerations freshly salted with hindsight.

As the ancient cyborg kneels amongst its wrath-wrought carnage, pieces of Hand of Silver begin to make their way back into its mind. Now free from Ekelhaft's influence, rationality begins to pepper the cyborg's thoughts. The process is relatively fast; a normal human being would have spent days recovering.

Unfortunately for the newcomers, it is not fast enough.

The sound of disturbed bodies draws the cyborg's attention. Remnants of Hoss are scattered through its mind, yet his indomitable rationality has not yet penetrated his vessel's higher thought processes. The billion year old machine turns towards Calm, who readies his hellknife, knowing what is about to happen.

The cyborg moves. It is a motion more sensed than seen; the portions of Hoss which occupy its mind have made it aware of its vast and nigh-unlimited power. It is a power which Hoss had previously used sparingly, since he could not use it for long before dying of "starvation". The cyborg, however, does not care.

It activates every gyroscope in its body, lending it unprecedented control over its balance, and allowing its center of gravity to change on a whim. A kinetic emitter on its back fires, instantly accelerating the cyborg towards a waiting Calm.

Konka Rar had begun animating the corpse at Hoss's knees before the battle even began, anticipating its inception.

He also knew that one corpse may not be enough. While he couldn't raise an army of intact corpses in time to support him during the battle, raising an army of partial corpses proved much easier.

As Hoss tears through the air towards Calm, fingers, feet, legs, even the rare lower torso which litter the floor of the cavern, tremble. An unseen wave seems to pass through them as each body part shudders, and then begins to move.

Originally posted on MSPA by Not The Author.

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[background=silver:1zd287vn]The killing machine formerly known as Hoss, as might be expected of one recovering from insanity, is not thinking properly. Its higher mental functions are practically nonexistant, and its memory lies in fragments about its mind, waiting to be pieced back together. As such, the thick cylindrical object swinging towards it doesn't register as it might have earlier, and is merely seen as an obstacle between the killer and its next victim.

Though the trap comes at it rather fast, due not only to the object's speed but its own as well, the cyborg is capable of processing stimuli at a vastly accelerated rate over its fully organic brethren. It is not unduly worried for its own safety; it has been rebuilt time and again to be stronger, faster, and overall better than most everything else in the known universe.

It hasn't quite remembered it isn't in the known universe, though it probably wouldn't care if it had.

Without slowing down, the cyborg places a hand out in front of itself. It does not crash, it is not stopped: two fingers' contact is all it needs to vault gracefully over the oncoming object and continue on its merry way. Something strikes it as odd, though, for the feel of the trap is inconguent with the rest of the cavern, somehow soft and smooth, yet muscular as well. But curiosity is quickly stifled by bloodlust, and a second trap is swinging down at it.

No longer caring for the subtleties of acrobatics, the cyborg lashes out with its blade. Its target has all the resistance of flesh, which is to say, "very little." The satisfying thump of body on stone, and a cry of rage and anguish. The cyborg claims another victim, and speeds on its way towards Calm, a murderous glint in its eye.[/background:1zd287vn]

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The loss of an arm, while excrutiatingly painful, mattered little to Gormand on the whole, as he had many more.

On the other hand, the loss of an arm, while he had many more, was excrutiatingly painful.

Vision blurring in anger and agony, Gormand glanced about for something to throw. A few arrows, a pair of javelins, far more oars than any boat could ever need, and a slowly rising man were all within reach. The meatball took the spears and several paddles, handing one to the zombie who took it unquestioningly. Zombie: either Konka Rar - fighting Hoss soon; or the ghosts - don't like Hoss much right now. Not laughing - probably Konka Rar.

By now, what was being incorrectly identified as Hoss had halved the distance seperating himself and his intended victim. Muttering an apology to the still-seated undead adventurer, Gormand shoved him forcibly forward, sliding him across the bloody floor much faster than he could've walked. Still not as fast as Hoss, though.

Readying his impromptu arsenal, the oversized snack collapsed into a roll towards the imminent battleground.

Hopefully, my arm will be the only casualty.

Originally posted on MSPA by Ixcalibur.

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"Wait here." Ziir said harshly, turning and walking back to the cave. He did not like to wear a face, but there were some times when complex communication was inevitable. This was one of those times. He hadn't minded being plucked out of the life he had been trying to craft for himself. He hadn't even minded that he had been put in a fight to the death against seven powerful and crazy beings. He did however mind when he was caged into one body. Forced to remain inside one bag of flesh. This body was aching. He could tell that it was sheer strength of will that was keeping it operational. He didn't want to think of what might happen should he let it expire. He reached the cave and made his way into it, down the slope, holding carefully onto the wall as he did so. Inside he fumed against The Cultivator. She had made it so he was afraid of falling down the damn stairs. She had reduced him, the god of death and blood, he who was older than the world, who had killed millions, to a mortal. She was going to suffer. She would be his greatest kill. Even if he did have to expire with this body he would make sure that she paid for what she had done.

There at the bottom of the stairs was the fresh body he had so briefly occupied. Thanks to his interference it was alive again, even if it was unoccupied. At least it wouldn't go to waste. He tore it open, ripping it to peices, watching as the brief momnet of life it had enjoyed was ripped away. He screamed angrily, furiously hacking at it until the body was completely unrecognisable. He paused, breathless. It hadn't helped. He still felt just as angry as before. He would show her. That damn Cultivator. She wouldn't get such an easy death. He'd make it last for weeks... no, he paused... that wouldn't be enough, he'd make it last for months and years. He'd drag out her agony to last a lifetime. He grinned, not happily, but a grin of grim determination. Then he got on with what he had come here to do. He covered his body with the blood of the one he had just torn to shreds, smearing it on with hesitant runes. He hadn't actually made use of these runes before. He'd never cared about one body enough to try and heal it. It took a couple of minutes but then he could feel it repairing him. He left his face as it was for now. He was going to need to convince the others to join him against The Cultivator. Otherwise satisfied with his current body he climbed back out and made his way to where he had told Anarchy to wait for him.

Originally posted on MSPA by MalkyTop.

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Weeelp after a huge explosion and insanity and sworn revenge against the Cultivator, I think it's time to send in some opinions! Man, it seems just like yesterday when this whole thing started...

Anyways, just PM me and voice your opinions about your fellows and their characters and such. Readers can do this too if they so wish.

Originally posted on MSPA by MyifanW.

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"What's wrong with this man?! Augh, if we could just reason with him... No, there's something wrong. He's out of his mind... has he been affected by the insanity blob?"

Diego gave a quick exposition of the things he knew, acting if he realized it just now. He had hung back when Hoss came into view, knowing what would happen. Yet, he didn't want to be too far away, because then his tentative allies would think him a coward. This was unacceptable, especially since the exit was blocked. However, looking at the scene, what he saw wasn't kind to his stomach. He had studied all sorts of anatomy, but had never seen bodies broken apart so... Uncleanly. Diego kept his lunch down, overlaying his disgust at the bodies with a disgust to the murderer. There was no method here, no reasoning- simple, pointlessly messy carnage. Hoss' purposeless carnage ruined the order, the system of the world. If anyone heard of such a thing, they'd simply label it as barbarism, a destruction of order. How could the name of a barbarian continue on through time, when there was nobody who would willingly preserve it? No, the only name that could last would be one who's actions were phenomenal, that changed the nature of the world, yet did not break it. Such a name would be one whispered in stories, traced for the truth, and engraved into society's collectiveness. Reaching some semblence of a conclusion, Diego snapped out of his mental tirade, having forgotten the unease the bodies instilled.

Ahead, a zombie charged with a spear, towards a raging machineman. The zombie's thrust was fairly decent, but hardly hindered Hoss. He twisted around the spear, neatly stepping on a raising hand on the ground and lifting himself into the air, where he promptly planted his feet on the zombie's shambling back and wrapped his hands around it's head. With a sickening sound, the zombie's skull was violently forced backwards, snapping the spine.

Diego was worried, now. Although Gormand seemed to be taking initiative, the machine man had so far essentially ruined both the meatball and the lich's best efforts- there was a chance Hoss would actually be able to kill them all. Diego usually wouldn't mind, but here, he himself was included in that 'all.' He glanced sideways at Calm, who seemed, well, calm. It seemed that he had a plan... which was good, because Diego didn't. Something told him shooting arrowheads and acoustic trickery would not work, and he didn't even have any arrowheads left. However, unwilling to rely on Calm entirely, Diego picked a few bone fragments off the ground and the bodies, which would hopefully be able to be used as projectiles. In his other hand, Diego palmed his knife. If worst came to worst, he'd at least have a chance.

Originally posted on MSPA by Dragon Fogel.

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The reanimated partial bodies were not very effective individually, but collectively they were able to slow Hoss down, delaying his advance.

It wasn't much, but it was enough time to give Konka Rar a chance to prepare a spell.

"Circle of Despair!" he cried out. A ball of darkness flew out from his staff, and towards Hoss. It started flying in circles, creating a shadowy ring around the cyborg.

Then the ring began to shrink, moving closer towards the center. Had Hoss retained his sanity, he might have been more concerned about the magical circle; as it was, he only sought to continue towards Calm, who was standing just outside the original boundaries of the spell.

This was a mistake on his part. As soon as he touched the shadows, pure darkness flowed through his body, and he was caught in the ring, as it continued to close.

"Pretty impressive-looking," Calm said, turning to the lich. "Doesn't look like it goes all the way to the ground, though. If he'd crouched down low enough instead of letting it catch him..."

"I am well aware of the limitations of the spell. I cast it because he seemed in no condition to dodge properly, and because it will not harm the corpses I have reanimated. It is fundamentally the same form of magic that flows through them."

As if on cue, the "warrior" Gormand had armed ran through the edge of the ring, unhindered, and began attacking Hoss, who was struggling to free himself from the still-closing shadowy wall.

"So, I guess it's gonna hurt like hell when that ring closes?" Calm laughed a little.

"Yes. I would advise keeping your distance from it. There's something of a ranged effect when it finishes."

Originally posted on MSPA by slipsicle.

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Two entities now inhabit the ancient machine caught within the magical vortex. One, an animal, a being of mindless rage born from an entire species of violent mammals. The other, a steadily-growing intelligence of galactic proportions, a mind which has spent millions of years perfecting rational thought. Both acknowledge the imminent danger. Neither panic.

The cyborg seeks only to be done with this obstacle and crush Calm's skull between its hands. The gathering remnants of Hoss consider this strange phenomena of "magic", and consider the best course of action for dealing with it. The entities reach a conclusion which is mutually beneficial to both.

After analyzing his vessel's movements while struggling to escape from the ring of darkness, Hoss recognizes that the ring only appears to have gripped that part of him which it intersects. Moreover, it appears to be holding him in place, both horizontally and vertically.

The cyborg, also privy to Hoss's thoughts, takes action. It raises its legs, the ring holding it in place, preventing it from falling. It curls into a ball and locks its limbs into place as kinetic emitters arranged on its exterior begin to fire in sequence. The cyborg begins to spin, its axis parallel to the ground, and to the section of ring in which it is caught.

There is an interesting phenomenon known as gravitomagnetism, in which a mass in motion through a gravitational field can create a magnetic field. Strangely enough, if a mass experiences any kind of acceleration, a gravitational field is also generated. The inscrutable effects of both of these phenomenon were combining on the cyborg's rotating exterior. Its increasing angular acceleration was, oddly enough, creating a gravitational field which, oddly enough, was creating quite the significant magnetic field.

The cyborg, unconcerned with its steadily depleting energy reserves, opens its mouth and vomits a small amount of valuable plasma from its fusion generator. The steadily growing magnetic field violently seizes the stream of ionized gas, which spreads into a glowing sphere of plasma, completely enclosing the cyborg.

Meanwhile, the ring continues to close. However, the small portion of it which had previously flowed through the cyborg now begins to instead flow around it, seemingly driven away by the brilliant sphere of supercharged ions. Magic, being something wholly different from the laws of science, and therefore subject to a different behavior, is not affected by the plasma, magnetic field, or gravitational field per se. It is instead affected by the light.

The name of the spell gave Hoss the idea, and allowed the cyborg the execution. "Circle of Despair" indeed. A circle of darkness meant to strike fear and hopelessnes into its victims, aimed at a being which can experience neither, could only be driven off by a sphere of light and the combined feelings of two billion-year-old minds. One emits a sense of feral satisfaction from overcoming a challenge, while the other radiates a sense of inevitable victory, regardless of obstacles.

Yet even these three forces were insufficient to combat the force of Konka Rar's magic; how could they, coming from a mind which has had millions of years to entrench itself in a world without the supernatural? Instead, only a small hole is opened at the edge of the ring, though not in time for the cyborg to escape before the spell completes.

The ring closes.

A detonation tears through the cave, sending a massive shockwave throughout, knocking stalactites off the ceiling in droves. It is an explosion of the absence of light, punctuated only by an incandescent, sputtering ball of fire flying from its center, towards Calm, who has taken cover against the explosion. The sphere of plasma, no longer held in place by a magnetic field, is released along the cyborg's path of travel, spraying superheated gas towards a cowering Calm, who recovers just in time to see a heavily damaged and severely burned entity of destructing raise itself from the ground. Backdropped by a rain of stony spears, its black overcoat in tatters, smoke swirling around its sparking torso, the cyborg advances towards Calm, this time without obstacle, while the steadily healing mind of Hoss gathers itself to retake its unruly vessel

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omfg worst post ever

Sorry if it's a little unclear as to what's going on. I pulled most of this out of my ass.

Originally posted on MSPA by Not The Author.

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Gormand unfurled, skidding on the bloody floor a bit closer to the spell than he might've liked. Hoss was struggling to escape the ring ineffectively, apparently under the belief that spinning would somehow aid him. Equally ineffective were the zombie's belabored attempts to shatter metal with wood. Should've given it a spear. Gormand's attention was removed momentarily from the automaton and marionette as the echoes bouncing about the cavern resolved themselves into words.

"...i...ing...your distance from it. There's something of a ranged effect when it finishes."

Already wary of accidental contact the rapidly-shrinking ring, Gormand reconsidered his strategy. Hefting a javelin to bear, he took a few steps back and lined up his shot. Sure of his aim, Gormand lunged, putting more force into his throw but sending him hopping a little bit closer to the entrapped cyborg.

Just as the spear left his grip, Hoss was enveloped by a radiant sphere of ionized plasma. It was incredibly bright, and despite being surrounded in a cloak of shadows was still rather painful to look at. Gormand averted his eye, scuttling back from the imminent eruption of dark magics. Fortunately for his morale, the pastabeast completely missed his projectile vaporize in Hoss' superheated shell.


In the immortal words of Jed Rees, "And it exploded."


Gormand was not having a very good day.

First, he had been torn from his empire, ruining the years of planning and wasting the vast quantity resources stored away inpreparation for his invasion on Metropolis. Then he had been stripped of his power, leaving him merely a shell of his full, awe-inspiring form. Forced, on the whim of some frivolous demigod, to fight seven others from elsewhere around the multiverse for her own amusement; trapped in a cave with a multitude of mischevious spirits; brutally amputated by one he had hoped to ally with.

And now, as if to drive the point home, the metaphorical thorn in his side had become a literal stalagtite.

It wasn't a terribly big chunk of rock, but one who is shot only considers himself lucky that the bullet missed his vital organs once he's in recovery. Eye growing more bloodshot than should be possible for a being without blood, Gormand let out a bellow of rage and flung himself towards Hoss, no longer caring what collateral damage he might inflict.

Originally posted on MSPA by slipsicle.

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oh man I totally forgot about that zombie that was supposed to be attacking me. I'll edit that post when I'm finished with this one

*Edit: or not, NtA actually did a better job than I could have at describing what happened there.

The old machine glares at Calm. It takes three steps forward. The fourth step never touches the ground.

Given that Hoss has had no previous contact with Calm before this instant, he is unaware of the strength the demon possesses. And what Hoss does not know, so too with the cyborg.

A single punch, delivered with inhuman strength, and at speeds which a machine currently struggling with its host mind cannot react in time to, serves sufficient to send the cyborg flying backwards. It recovers quickly, but its intent focus on Calm does not alert it to the raging meat which has positioned itself to tackle the cyborg upon its landing.

Heavy, fleshy noodles envelope Hoss's construct in an abyssal embrace, every gram of force Gormand can muster in his noodley appendages working towards a singular purpose: to crush the metal he has seized.

Calm, not one to lose such an opportunity (a strangely fortuitous one, considering his oft calamitous relations which Lady Luck), lunges, hellknife in hand. Even before it reaches them, its blaze blisters Gormand's flesh, and singes the cyborg's tattered overcoat.

Calm's aim is true. His knife sears through hardened, artificial flesh, and strikes the magnetic shielding of Hoss's dormant black hole heart.

The result is anticlimactic. The hellknife merely slides off, tracing a burning path through the cyborg's chest. Calm pulls back in time to prevent serious injury to his ally of convenience, and Gormand, seeing that his crushing power is yet insufficient to overcome the cyborg's shell, instead tosses it aside.

It lands unceremoniously amidst a pile of rubble. Its limbs flop uselessly as it hits the ground. Calm and Gormand share a confused glance (mostly Calm, since Gormand's single eye is more for show than anything); the cyborg had previously shown near-instantaneous reaction to any obstacle. Now, it appears almost... shut down.

In this case, appearances are not misleading. The scattered fragments of Hoss have finally come together within his vessel's mind. The cyborg's unthinking rage has set him back quite a bit; where his previous energy reserves had been enough to last him for weeks, given the injection of reaction mass earlier, the cyborg has, in its recklessness, wasted almost all of that buffer. Hoss decides to deal with that later. He replays the events of his insanity to come up to speed with his current situation; the explosion, the awakening of a god (which he supposes is likely; magic being a reality here, so must gods), the slaughtering of zombies, the arrival and subsequent battle between himself and the other inhabitants of the cave, minus one Diego Red. Hoss gathers himself and reviews his next steps. His first priority is the two beings advancing upon his position, one of which has wounded him severely. His second priority will then be to find more reaction mass. Again. His third priority is to protect against future breaches in will.

As Hoss spreads his indomitable will back through his vessel's neurons, both organic and cybernetic, his body is left temporarily offline. Lying in the rubble, the ancient machine slowly begins to surrender to its master. Its muscles twitch. It begins to move.

When it rises, it is Hand of Silver which gazes out through its mercurial eyes, now using methods other than simple violence to consider how to deal with the approaching entities.

Originally posted on MSPA by MyifanW.

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"I don't think he's dead."

Diego announced, absently. He was relieved that the entire situation had somewhat resolved itself, but was not entirely sure that the end result would be as good. Deciding not to stay, Diego ran forward, towards a dark staircase. Turning back, he called out for the others to follow.

"Let's go, people. You don't need to kill that machineman- it would be much better to just continue deeper, looking for this trapped god."


[background=Black[img]images/smilies/icon_surprised.gif[/img]7y2a97m]
Calm paused, briefly in thought, and then responded.

"...True, this wouldn't need to be done if the god's promise is true... Usually, the chance a god isn't lying is a margin less than half. And, if it's not true... No, we will kill him. He's too dangerous to be left alive, and it benefits us all..."

Calm turned back to his target, cautiously approaching.
[/background[img]images/smilies/icon_surprised.gif[/img]7y2a97m]



"Suit yourself..."

Diego climbed away, before the cyborg lurched. In truth, he prefered if the four combatants slaughtered eachother- but he had to act out his part as a pascifist. Not only that, having others murder for him irked him. The deaths would lose the personal touch, and it would be much harder for others to attribute the murders to a singular name, like the earworm killer. Still, he reminded himself, this was for the best. The only thing he needed to do in this competition, to make the deepest impression on the world, was be the most notable- an easy task for the survivor. Killing was optional, for now. Still, Diego was prepared, and willing to kill when the chance arose. His signiture murder patern would do nothing but deepen the impression he intended to leave.

Originally posted on MSPA by Dragon Fogel.

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Diego's words gave the Hand of Silver an idea.

As his body slowly began to repair itself, he shifted its efforts to reactivating his speech center.

"You realize what he just did, don't you?" his body spoke, slowly. "He's going to try to take the god's power for himself."

Gormand, Konka Rar, and Calm all looked at the nearly unmoving body.

"Well," Calm replied, "as I understand it, once one of us dies, this game shifts to a new round. If we finish you off, we stop whatever he's trying to do, too."

"Do you think it that easy?" Hoss responded. "I am not so easy to destroy. You may not have the time to spare."

Konka Rar looked thoughtful.

"He has a point. I will pursue Diego. The two of you can focus on eliminating our competition here, and see if he is as durable as he claims." He walked to the staircase and made his way down, scanning the darkness with his cybernetic eye for any sign of Diego.

Originally posted on MSPA by slipsicle.

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The lich's words strike a special chord within Hand of Silver. Konka Rar's unflinching approach to events has caused the tyrant to consider him more closely. Hominid form and skeletal structure, mammalian vocal methods, human thought patterns... where Hoss once considered Konka Rar nothing more than spare parts, he now realizes the undead sorcerer yet possesses a human mind. Moreso, Konka Rar's heavy cybernetic enhancements have shown him to have an understanding of both magic and technology, a blend which could prove most valuable for Hoss's future plans...

... meanwhile, however, there is the matter of Calm and Gormand, both of whom Konka Rar has smoothly demoted to mere flunkies.

Originally posted on MSPA by Not The Author.

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Gormand watched Konka Rar wander off into the cave after Diego. The 'Earworm.' Still don't know what that's about... Calm, meanwhile, had taken initiative and was warily approaching the downed machine. "What," intoned the meatball forcefully, yet quietly as to avoid echoes, "do you think you're doing?" Calm, taking a moment to realize this was directed at him, continued his advance. [background=black:3vgj4ilo]"Weren't you paying attention? I'm finishing him off before he does the same to me."[/background:3vgj4ilo] In only a few strides, Gormand was in front of the demon, blocking his path and staring at him inquisitively.

"Why?"

Calm returned the stare with one implying the pastabeast was out of his mind. [background=black:3vgj4ilo]"Are you out of your mind?! Have you seen the state of this room? This blood,"[/background:3vgj4ilo] cried Calm, stooping to scrape a sample of the crimson fluid from the ground, [background=black:3vgj4ilo]"is still fresh! I don't think letting him live is such a good idea!"[/background:3vgj4ilo] Calm, becoming increasingly incredulous, attempted to go around the massive ball of meat, but was stopped by a wounded arm striking him lightly in the chest. "One could say that about the rest of us, couldn't they?" A thick, pinkish, foul-smelling slime oozed from the wound. "This cut was your doing. I do not appreciate my so-called 'allies' attempting to strike me down." Gormand removed his arm as he realized Calm would probably lop it off if he held it there any longer. "But that is what will happen sooner or later, isn't it?"

Hoss glanced over at the demon, grinning weakly. [background=silver:3vgj4ilo]"I don't think he trusts you."[/background:3vgj4ilo] Gormand snorted, stepping away from the pair. "How perceptive." Calm, Gormand was sure, was wondering whether or not he and the machine were in cahoots. "But why should I trust any of you? I'm sure you both have plans for once you win." He gestured towards the soldier of hell. "Enlighten me, please." Calm threw his hands in the air. [background=black:3vgj4ilo]"This is ridiculous! We should be killing him right now, not-"[/background:3vgj4ilo] Gormand began chuckling. "I thought you didn't trust gods. But you're willing to obey the Cultivator?" The demon attempted to find a rebuttal, and failed. Gormand turned around, gaze flipping between his competition. "I don't care what it is you've planned for the future. Know only this." Gormand glared angrily, though the anger was directed neither at Calm nor Hoss.

"That woman promised nothing to the victor."

Gormand swiveled to face the stairs, ennui setting in as he walked away. "But go ahead. Kill each other. See what good comes of it."

Originally posted on MSPA by MyifanW.

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SpoilerShow

Small thing: the cultivator called Diego "the earworm", and didn't say more than that.

Diego walked forward, cautiously watching for traps. Interestingly, he found none- it seemed that the traps were all towards the entrance. A little less cautious now, Diego took greater strides forward.

"Two of them are following me... Konka and Gormand. That is not ideal."

It would have been ideal if only Konka came. Diego did not feel Konka was entirely attentive, a being that relied more heavily on magic and tools than himself- much like the mages Diego knew. They were all extremely dangerous, but never felt the need to watch their backs. None had ever noticed Diego creeping up until it was too late, and he doubted Konka would have been an exception. Once the kill was done, Diego would speak in the voice of a god once again, stating something along the lines of 'Konka Rar has released me. Unfortunately, I do not have the strength to take all of you to your respective homes, and only have time to take the ones in front of me.' Then, possibly, Diego would extend the charade as the stage shifted, inventing another god. However, it was no useto plan so far ahead, and Diego refocused on the situaion at hand.

With two to deal with, Diego needed to be quicker and more efficient, and somehow hide the body- if he could even get the opportunity. If the two of them got together, he would have to chances. Hopefully, there would be some method to keep them seperated...

Diego was ascending, now, up to a new room. He had just moved through a strange room with a corpse, hanging from the ceiling by it's entrails. Seeing it unnerved him slightly, but he continued forward. The next room was more of a hallway filled with bags of apparent treasure, a fantastic contrast to the last room. Wasting no time, he sifted through, finding a few obviously useful items- a small bow, arrows, and arrowheads. The rest he left, because he wasn't sure if he'd be able to use it. He turned to the next door, and pulled it. The door held fast. With no method of delivering a force strong enough to smash the door. Diego was stuck.

A sudden panic overtook him, immediately followed by a instant calm. Methodologically, he arranged the facts. The other two would be here, soon. He could not go further on his own. From what he had heard, it seemed both Konka and Gormand roughly believed in his fake god. Logically, they'd have no reason to attack him. The two of them probably had the ability to take down the door- which was a problem, because if it were a sudden dead end or something similar, his "god" would lose a lot of credibility. Diego frowned and formed a small plan. Before the door was opened, he'd use the god's voice to announce that they were close, creating the illusion that the god knew where they were, hopefully veiling his actual ignorance.