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+---- Thread: Intense Struggle! (Round 7 - The Database) (/showthread.php?tid=654)
Re: Intense Struggle! (Round 3 - The Wasteland) - SleepingOrange - 06-16-2010
Originally posted on MSPA by SleepingOrange.
Clara had appeared in the lee of a crumbling stone wall on being transported to the wasteland. Free of the mist's insidious effects, her knees had buckled and she'd gladly sunk against the wall, eyes squeezed shut and hands over her face. Her memories of the past hours were being disobedient, refusing to line up in a cogent order, and muddled beside. It was as she was picking through apparently-faulty recollections and trying to figure out what had happened in that swamp that she heard "Oh don't worry guys. I'm fine. Nothing wrong with me. Just decided to take a little nap in the middle of the desert."
The nun looked up and opened her eyes; with a slight lurch she pushed herself off the wall and moved towards the prone nymph. "Sorry love, I think I may be a little out of it." She extended a hand to help her up, and it was promptly slapped away; Aph rolled forward and sprang back up to her usual hovering, glaring at Clara. "Oh, well don't let my death intrude on your little moment, love. I'll try to do it more quietly next time so you aren't bothered." The old woman's face, which had already shifted from its usual warm, smiling countenance to a haggard grin, flickered to hurt for a moment. "Aph, I'm sorry I-"
A pair of fuchsia hands collided with Clara's chest, sending the surprised nun sprawling; her stick tumbled away and her large holy book thudded open to a random page. Hand-illuminated scrollwork proclaimed And so in the course of events was The Prodigal found and by the eyes of... before a hot breeze scattered too much sand across the page to read further.
Aph looked down at the woman she had once loved, had once seen so full of kindness and strength, and saw nothing but a simpering old bag in a stupid hat. Realizing that she had wasted so much of herself on such a pathetic person was infuriating, and the hangdog look Clara was giving her now served only to reinforce the idea that the so-called nun was nothing but a doddering waste of space. She spit on the shifting sand, not even bothering to waste another syllable on someone so worthless. She turned and hovered away, effecting a an indignant stalk despite not moving her legs.
Clara pushed herself up into a sitting position with the heels of her hands; it was harder than she'd expected on the sand. As she watched Aph move away, confused and more than a little hurt, she idly picked up her book and shook the sand out of it. She dropped it into her lap, where it bounced open to another page. took her across the river and laid her there. He closed her eyes and laid her arms by her sides and said in a voice like thunder... Beginnings and Ends Three... Not particularly relevant to the situation at hand, but Clara had always felt using holy writ for fortune-telling was a little silly, especially when there was perfectly good magic for that purpose. After a couple of false starts, she got to her feet, and went to pick her stick back up.
The nymph was not sure where she was going; the important point was that she get away from the old bat and make sure it was obvious she was doing so. Still, directionless anger can take one only so far, and it wasn't long before Aph drew flush with Aegis and D'neya; as she saw the little girl, her skin prickled with annoyance again. Not ten seconds out of that damned mire and the little bitch was already ignoring Aph in favor of the musclebound lunkhead in the gaunlets. "Hey!"
Leaning on her stick and shielding her mouth and nose with her wimple (breathing or not, nobody wants sand in their nose), Clara had been watching Aph, wondering how the nymph planned to follow lashing out against and spitting on her. It was too far to judge expression and the hovering blob of pink that was Aph was mostly turned away anyway, but going by body language and the tone of that "Hey!", she was about to start another confrontation. It was... bizarre. Clara couldn't help wondering if this was some kind of necromantic backlash just becoming apparent after the mishap in the abandoned base. It bore watching. "Weird, innit?"
Clara turned around to see a cloud of mist, nearly invisible in the shadow of the wall, congealing into the gray form of Larus; he leaned against the weathered brick, face impassive and hands in his pockets. "Almost like she's a different person." Clara stared for a moment, one eyebrow cocked, then widened her eyes and brought a hand to her mouth. "You don't think...?"
Re: Intense Struggle! (Round 3 - The Wasteland) - Aryogaton - 06-19-2010
Originally posted on MSPA by Aryogaton.
“Uhhh…â€
Aegis looked at the D'Neya in confusion. Did a little girl just ask him if she could kill him? Or something to that extent? It was difficult to concentrate, being suddenly pulled from wet swamp to arid desert, and the situation was strange enough to block a sensible reply. Regardless, he could see a black aura begin to form around D'Neya. He certainly did not know what it meant, but, in this context, he assumed it meant something bad.
“Hey!†Aegis and D'Neya were interrupted by Aph, floating towards them with a look of irritation. “What are you doing with this man?â€
D'Neya ignored her, simply continuing her stare and smile towards Aegis. “I'm talking to you!â€
Sensing the tension, Aegis grabbed D'Neya's shoulders and flung her around so that she was facing Aph. Momentarily broken of her stare, the girl blinked in innocent confusion.
“You two… uh, settle this or something.†Aegis turned towards the underside of the sand dune, where ruins lay ahead. He stepped towards them, eager to avoid the confrontation that likely seemed to begin to occur.
“Where do you think you're going?â€
“Huh?†Aegis paused mid-step, his foot sinking into the sand. Soon he was tumbling down the sand dune, to Aph's annoyance. He landed on the roof of a half-sunken building, and crashed through it. Withholding her disbelief, Aph returned to D'Neya, resolving to take care of Aegis later.
Aegis pushed himself off the dirt, groaning at the second self-inflicted injury in mere minutes. He leaned on the nearest wall, and looked around the room, now lit by the hole in the ceiling. Most of the contents of the room had more or less turned into dust, leaving only a pile of unidentifiable sand-covered objects and a few unmarked crates as items of interest. Aegis got to his feet and ripped open the nearest crate, only to find it full of sand. He rummaged through the pile of sand-logged objects, only to have most crumbled into dust when picked up. After digging to the very bottom of the pile, Aegis pulled out a long machine. The casing crumbled off as Aegis removed it, but most of the components seemed to be in fair condition. The machine sported a handle and a broken fixture, evidently designed to either hang it from something or place it on a stand.
Well obviously it's a weapon—if it can be pointed at something, it's a weapon. Now let's see what it does.
Aegis picked up the machine, pointed what seemed one of its ends at a wall, and rummaged through the surface to find some sort of “on†button, breaking off a few components. Finally, after pulling a lever, he heard a rattling sound, then a whirring sound, when silence, but could feel the machine vibrate slightly. Despite this, nothing of interest seemed to occur on the wall. Aegis placed the machine on the floor and kicked it, disappointed at its lack of function.
A rumbling sound began to occur in one of the crates on the opposite side of the room. Within a few seconds, it exploded, blowing a hole in the wall and saturating the air with dust. Aegis stood up, and having experienced more than a few explosions in his life, attempted to find its source. He looked back at the machine, which, strangely, seemed to point towards the hole in the wall, where a crate once stood and where sand was pouring into the room. Aegis picked the machine up, and pointed it at a crate on the other side of the room. In a few seconds, the second crate exploded, creating an escape route—the door had long since decayed into uniformity with the other walls. Aegis flipped the lever off, and jumped out of the building onto the sand below, sporting his new weapon and a revitalized grin.
Re: Intense Struggle! (Round 3 - The Wasteland) - Ixcaliber - 07-06-2010
Originally posted on MSPA by Ixcalibur.
Aph's newfound irritation at her teammates did not end there; she was finding a whole manner of things to be annoyed about. For example the boiling hot desert sun that scorched her skin and the faint breezes that did little but throw sand up in her face. She marched back from the crest of the sand dune to face D'Neya, whose expression was somewhere between shocked, at the silly pink woman's sudden change in attitude and annoyance at the interruption between her and Aegis.
"What is it?" D'Neya asks irritably.
"I take it you finally decided to drop that innocent act?" Aph sneers at her. "I suppose when you get caught sprouting enormous black tentacles cries of 'please save me from the bad man' are somewhat less effective."
"I have better things to be doing." D'Neya says dismissively, and strides past Aph intending to follow Aegis into the facility.
"And just where do you think you are going you little brat?" Aph snaps, drawing her sword, and turning upon D'Neya. "Ever since the first time I saw you I have hated you, no wait I guess there was like a couple of seconds when we could have been friends but I sure am glad that they passed quickly and uneventfully. The point that I'm trying to make is why don't you just die so I don't put up with you any more?"
--------
Clara and Larus stood watching Aph from afar, their suspicion piqued by her bizarre behaviour. Sister Clara had at first been doubtful but as she watched the nymph she couldn't help but notice that Aph was different. She was not just behaving differently, she was holding herself differently. Her skin was ever so slightly darker...
"See what I mean?" Larus asked conspiratorially. From their vantage point they watched as D'Neya tried to walk away, and as Aph drew her sword, ready to attack her. Larus dissipated, turning to mist and rushing towards Aph, becoming solid and dense just before he shoved into her, sending her sprawling across the sands; her blade flying from her hand, landing point down on the far side of the dune.
---------
"What the hell?" Aph asked from where she lay, Larus loomed over her, a serious look on his face. In the distance Aph could see that Sister Clara had rushed over to comfort D'Neya. This struck her as being just typical.
"You aren't Aph." Larus says, as though the matter was already closed.
"Right." Aph replied sarcastically. "Who am I then? You?"
"What's going on?" D'Neya asks; all sweetness and light again.
"The Monitor has a spy." Larus says. "And here she is."
Re: Intense Struggle! (Round 3 - The Wasteland) - Robust Laser - 07-09-2010
Originally posted on MSPA by cyber95.
It was downright strange. This laboratory was almost exactly like the one back home, the exception being all the equipment. Instead of biological materials, there was row upon row of weapon-making materials. Where the large tubes that B and A were grown in were, there were weapon lockers instead.
B wandered the facility, feeling a strange combination of familiarity and confusion. Was this just some strange coincidence? Did the Monitor do this? He wandered to where his room was. There was no wall separating his room from A's or B's, and instead of anything that would identify it as anybody's rooms, it was instead replaced by a firing range.
He sighed, as he slumped down at the wall. Immediately he noticed the weapon next to him. It looked a bit like a shotgun. B picked it up. He had never used a gun before, but he had seen them used before when he was young by the guards at the facility. The weapon nearly dwarfed him, and he had a little trouble picking it up, but he managed to point it towards a target.
He pulled the trigger.
A click sound came from the gun, but otherwise, nothing happened.
B dropped the gun with a loud clang. He didn't really know anything about guns anyways, so even if he did know what was wrong with it, he wouldn't have been able to fix it, most likely.
He sighed once more, looking around. Over in a corner was where Hal managed to rig up a TV with cable, but here in the ruined laboratory, it was dusty and ignored, holding nothing but an empty locker. C would often be watching the news, perhaps to hear a missing persons report about him, or to otherwise try to find clues as to who he was. A had a fondness for cartoons, whereas B himself would often end up watching Animal Planet.
Despite his unique ability, B's previous life managed to have a sense of normalcy... and then the Monitor decided to go ahead and screw that all up. He didn't know if he would ever see his sister or brother again, or even Hal. Everything that he knew was gone, and on top of it all, he tasted blood for the first time. He hoped it would be the only time.
He put his hand on the weapon he had previously set aside. These thoughts were making him angry. Nearly effortlessly, he managed to grab the gun and toss it a computer console, smashing it.
He took the form of a grey rhinoceros quickly, and rampaged around the laboratory, destroying as much equipment as he could possibly find. When a large metal canister started beeping, however, he instinctively changed back to his normal form. A timer appeared on the now cracked screen of the canister, counting down from ten.
B felt the best course of action would be to leave the facility. Very quickly. The closest exit was a hole in the ceiling, and he took a form most suited to scaling the cracked walls quickly.
Quite a ways away, an argument was beginning, where a nymph was being accused of actually being a spy. Nonetheless, as the laboratory exploded, it was plainly audible and visible to all the contestants, as an armadillo, rolled up in a ball, came arcing through the air from it's direction.
Re: Intense Struggle! (Round 3 - The Wasteland) - Ixcaliber - 07-09-2010
Originally posted on MSPA by Ixcalibur.
Aph floated up from the sand, righting herself in the air. She opened her mouth to defend herself from Larus' crazed and paranoid accusations, when a loud boom rolled out across the desert, blowing sand and dust in it's wake. The contestants heads all turned towards the source of the explosion, a building that was now reduced to ashes in a crater. Aph was the first to break the silence.
"I suppose you're all gonna blame me for that?" she asked wearily. "What about the kid? He's unaccounted for. Why couldn't he be the spy?" She paused. "You know, assuming you aren't all just paranoid."
Larus was a little less sure than he had been. Aph was different. Not acting like she should be. Surely if the spy had taken her form he would imitate her a little better than he had done so far. Though of course that could just be a double bluff. He was keeping his options open until he had more evidence.
"You have a point." Larus said eventually. "But it's not paranoia. There is a spy, a shapeshifter. Back in the swamp, he was practically bragging about how great a spy he was."
"And then what happened? You just let him go? Bright idea Larus!" Aph snidely remarked. "I knew you were dumb but I don't know you were this dumb. Were you dropped on your head as a child much?"
Sister Clara removed the blade from her walking stick and walked over to Aph, she raised it provocatively.
"You are not Aph." she said coldly. "I know because Aph was a kind person... more or less. Her heart was full of love, not of cruelty, and of snide remarks. You are the spy, and I can only presume the fact that you have taken the guise of my friend means you have killed her and taken her place." Clara paused for a moment, closing her eyes and thinking of Aph, whose only desire had been wanting to leave this battle. "I will kill you for that."
---------
In the chaos D'Neya had slipped away from the group. She cared little about news of a potential spy, except to identify which of her opponents would be more dangerous, and despite being identified as a spy, she still couldn't take the pink lady seriously as a threat. So she made her way down the side of the sand dune and towards the facility that Aegis had fallen into. She wasn't done with him yet.
Re: Intense Struggle! (Round 3 - The Wasteland) - Pinary - 07-09-2010
Originally posted on MSPA by Pinary.
Re: Intense Struggle! (Round 3 - The Wasteland) - Ixcaliber - 07-10-2010
Originally posted on MSPA by Ixcalibur.
As D'Neya walked down the slope Aph's mind began to clear somewhat. For a second things were only mildly annoying, until her eyes settled back on Sister Clara; the annoying bitch who for some bizarre reason she had followed around like a puppydog for the first couple of rounds of this competition. Aph despised her, and by extension she despised herself, how weak and gullible and stupid she had been to fall for Clara's act. Now her eyes were open, she was finally seeing the sneaky undead hag for who she truly was, her insane blatherings about the death of the real Aph only serving to piss her off more. She drew her blade.
"Fine with me." Aph said cockily. Wasting not a moment she quickly slashed towards Clara, who inexpertly parried the blow.
Larus stood and watched the battling pair, unsure for a moment how to respond. He thought maybe the scorching heat of the desert was affecting his judgement. The closer he looked at the argument for Aph being innocent the more shaky it seemed. If she wasn't the spy what was the explanation for why she was different? Then again could a spy really believe that such a poor imitation of Aph would fool anyone. This whole thing was giving him a headache.
Clara was not very experienced with her swordstick and although she had been struggling under the Aph's initial assault, she was now defending herself with ease. As Aph got more furious her attacks got bigger and clumsier. Clara had had opportunity to strike, but had yet to take it. As much as she had tried to get into the battling mindset Clara was a peaceful person, who didn't like hurting others at the best of times. Though this was not Aph, she was still having trouble attacking someone with the body of someone who had been her friend.
Aph was pretty seriously pissed off by now, her weapon swinging wildly but ineffectively. Every second she looked at that nun her hatred for her grew. Aph screamed in frustration, as the air around her seemed to grow cold and icicles crackled along her sword and across her body. Aph was less surprised, than annoyed at the sudden dip in temperature. She sliced vertically, a column of deadly sharp, and freezing icicles being launched from her blade as she did so. Sister Clara panicked and dodged to the side, her arm grazed by the blistering cold of the ice. She stumbled to the floor and watched as Aph, still contained in a fury fuelled blizzard floated over to her. Larus rushed towards her but fell back as he was struck by the biting cold. Aph looked down at the helpless Sister Clara and raised her blade, ready to end the nun's life, to end her false pleasantries, her patronizing attitude, her disingenous concern. As she looked down into the nun's eyes ready to watch the life flicker out of them something stopped her. Some small part of her just couldn't bring itself to do that to Clara. Aph lowered the sword as the cold air around her dissipated. She awkwardly turned away from the fallen nun and floated from the both of them. For the moment she wanted to be on her own.
Re: Intense Struggle! (Round 3 - The Wasteland) - Robust Laser - 07-10-2010
Originally posted on MSPA by cyber95.
Reserved, but this post may take a bit, simply because I'm working all day. I'll be working on it intermittently throughout the day when I'm home. Apologies for the extended version of a reserve.
...S'not like posting was happening more than once a day anyway.
Re: Intense Struggle! (Round 3 - The Wasteland) - Dragon Fogel - 07-10-2010
Originally posted on MSPA by Dragon Fogel.
Re: Intense Struggle! (Round 3 - The Wasteland) - Robust Laser - 07-11-2010
Originally posted on MSPA by cyber95.
If Aph hadn't been so distracted by her anger, she might have paid more attention to the explosion, and the debris coming from it. Had Aph not decided to start wandering away at that very moment, she might have still been standing.
As it was, however, she was unprepared for the impact of a high-velocity armadillo impacting with her head.
B unrolled himself, looking a little sore, and changed himself back into a human. His metallic shell reformed itself back into the weapon he previously had. He struggled to get up a bit. Protected or not, getting launched a mile by explosion hurts.
"Ugh... did I do that?" He looked around, seeing that he was once again surrounded by his competitors, "Oh... Hi... I guess that, erm, I did that to the pink lady?"
"Yes, you did, and it was a good thing, too. 'Aph' here is that spy that we knew as Cabaret."
B helped Sister Clara up off of the ground, and after processing what was just said, became extraordinarily confused. "Aph is the spy? But I thought..."
"Yes?"
"It's... it's nothing. I, uh, what are we going to, erm, do with her?"
"Presumably we should kill her, but there isn't exactly any proof that she's the spy."
"Um, maybe we should... restrain... her?"
"The kid's got a point. Tie her up or something, and we can interrogate her or otherwise figure out what exactly is going on."
B immediately began looking through piles of junk and half-wrecked crates lying around, as Clara and Larus did the same. Rather quickly they managed to gather up a suitable amount of wire and rope to tie her up, so she would be unable to attack or flee upon waking up.
As it so happened, it wasn't very long to wait. B hovered over Aph as she opened her eyes.
Re: Intense Struggle! (Round 3 - The Wasteland) - Ixcaliber - 07-11-2010
Originally posted on MSPA by Ixcalibur.
Aph was irate. She was sat on an uncomfortable wooden chair, in a tiny apartment. It was lavishly decorated in a somewhat over the top manner, but this did not take away from the dinginess or cramped nature of the place. The walls were practically lined with blue velvet, pieces of it hung from the wall wherever there was space to do so. As such it made the walls look like a bizarre rendition of the night sky with grossly over proportioned stars and crescent moons dotting it's surface. The furniture was lined with dripping candles and heavy bound tomes with titles like 'vital precepts of thaumaturgical conjuration' and so on. There were less discarded plates and unwashed cutlery around the apartment since Aph had been conjured into existence, but even she could do little against the stains that had accumulated over the years of negligence beforehand.
Xan had just returned home to find that in the time he had been away his loving companion had suddenly developed a staggering resentment for him, believing, correctly as it turned out, that he did not feel the same way about her as she did about him. Most students who created a nymph had little intention of actually falling in love with them, though some did and that was a bit weird, Xan was hardly the exception in expecting Aph to be a doting companion.
They argued. Aph did not appreciate being left at home all day, she accused Xan of being embarassed of her, of not loving her. Xan for his part just wanted to sit down and have a meal after a long day. Aph suddenly leapt at him, her anger almost primal. She tore at his clothes and hair, headbutted him, while screaming that he did not love her and that she would not be treated this way. Xan panicked for a moment. This wasn't supposed to happen. Nymphs were good and kind and loving. He responded by reciting an incantation. Ethereal chains flew through the air, winding their way around Aph's limbs, binding her hands back behind her, and pinning her to the floor.
---------
With a start Aph awoke from a memory of her past. She saw it through a different light now of course, she had been such a psycho bitch back then. Not that Xan had been any better; a horny teenager with the ability to create a being who would unconditionally love him. Unfortunately for him, he wasn't as good a wizard as he thought he was, and he ended up with her.
Attempting to stretch, Aph suddenly noticed that her limbs were still bound together. Glancing around she saw that kid staring down at her. She hadn't had much to do with this kid since the contest started, which suited her just fine as she could quite clearly picture herself sappily doting upon him and it made her feel a little nauseous.
"What?" she asked, and he looked away awkwardly.
Larus and Clara, who had been bickering nearby about whether or not it could be conclusively proved that Aph was the spy, turned to face her prone form at this outburst. They walked over and stared down at her. Clara had a look on her face that was somewhere between pity and hatred, Larus looked conflicted.
"If kinky fun time is over I would like to be untied now." Aph complained. The boy wandered back into view, casting doubtful glances towards her.
"So Larus." Sister Clara said. "Here she is. How will you interrogate her? Will you ask her if she is a spy and then take her word for it?"
Larus was not sure what to do. He had doubts, and impressively he had managed to develop doubts about his doubts. The heat out here was making it impossible to think this through, to even come up with questions which they could use to ascertain Aph's guilt. At last he made a decision.
"We need to get to shelter." He said. He reached down, grabbed Aph and slung her over his shoulder. "We'll think more clearly in the shade."
Aph sighed. "If I was to claim to be the spy would you leave me alone?"
"Not exactly." Larus said, as the group trekked down the side of the sand dune to the nearest building, an ominous grey facility, half sunken into the sands.
--------
D'Neya climbed into the building through a broken window, the front door having long sunk into the sands. The floor she was on was three or four floors down from the roof, thanks to the slightly slanted nature of the building. This room had probably once been an office, in amongst the sand that had blown into the room she could see the smashed remnants of a desk and an overturned filing cabinet.
D'Neya was already bored by the mundanity of this room. She was about to skip on through when the room started to flicker an unexpected shade of purple. The glowing purple settled after a moment and it outlined precisely how the office must have been before this place was a wasteland, except in those days it probably wouldn't have been glowing purple. A woman in a lab coat with short hair and half moon glasses sat staring down at a selection of papers on her desk. D'Neya's enthusiasm began to wane as she realised that this phantasm was not going to do anything in particular. She walked over to the door and opened it, standing unnervingly close on the other side was a glowing purple representation of another scientist, a man with a long ponytail and a goatee. He promptly knocked upon the purple outline of the door.
"Come in." The woman said, in a voice that did not suit her, it was like that of a child. It was a voice that sounded very familiar but for just a second D'Neya could not place it. The door opened and the man with the goatee walked through, a look of worry discernible on his face, in so much as any look was discernable on his face.
"Dr Lain." He said, his voice the exact same as the woman's. Suddenly it seemed obvious to D'Neya whose voice it was, it was her own, hijacked by these ghosts. "You have to come quickly," the man continued. "Something's wrong."
The woman, Doctor Lain, looked up urgently, quickly standing up and following the man out through the door. Without any more words exchanged they were rushing down the hallway, and D'Neya was rushing after them, only she had to dodge over piles of sand and parts of the floor that had fallen away. They disappeared through a set of automatic doors at the end of the corridor.
D'Neya reached the doors to find that they were no longer functioning. The room on the other side was massive, full of machinery even in the present. The focus of the room appeared to be a large square vat that stood in the centre, as tall as two stories, gantries ran around it on the floor above, and at the bottom of the vat a thick cord terminated in a strange pronged device. Walls of monitors displayed bewildering readings. There were echoes of scientists everywhere, panicking as alarm bells rung and lights flashed. Dr Lain examined the monitors surrounding the vat.
"You idiots!" She yelled. "You've absorbed too much mana. If we don't drain that vat right now then this everyone here is going to die." This did little to calm the scientists, most simply running for the doors. The man with the goatee just stood and looked to Dr Lain, as though she had the situation completely under control. "Where are the standby mana spheres?" she snapped at him.
"We didn't think we would need them." He said mournfully. "This wasn't supposed to happen."
"Well yes thanks for that." Dr Lain snapped. She glared at him and then sighed. "Stand back you incompetent buffoon." She said as he handed him her lab coat.
D'Neya watched rapt as the scene played out. As the ghost of Dr Lain walked over to the pronged device at the base of the vat and jabbed it into her neck, heedless of her own safety. Then she watched as the woman's body began to disintegrate, replaced by sparking electricity. Around her, lightning struck out, earthing itself in the consoles and creating a hole in the floor. D'Neya watched silently as Dr Lain laughed maniacally as the machine rattled and hummed. Finally finished she disconnected herself, and merrily blasted her colleagues with bolts of lightning. The scene slowly started to fade away. D'Neya stood there for a moment, looking through those broken doors and grinned.
Re: Intense Struggle! (Round 3 - The Wasteland) - GBCE - 07-11-2010
Originally posted on MSPA by Draykon.
Black tentacles slipped through the broken door, flattening completely for a brief moment, so as to fit through the tiny cracks. Moments later, a loud SNAP rang out, and D'Neya pulled the door apart. Cautiously, she approached the machine. That woman had drained out mana from it using this machine? Then, it was filled with mana?
She reached the pronged extension of the machine, now laying out haphazardly on the floor. Slowly, her pale hand reached for it- and was grabbed in place by another hand, clad in a black glove.
i wouldnt do that if i were you i remember reading somewhere that its always a bad idea to absorb an energy field bigger than your head and that vat is alot bigger than your cute little head so dont mess with it
D'Neya's eyes tried to trace the arm of the one who'd stopped her, but her eyes simply stopped before they could get very far. It was as-if her own body didn't want her to know who the hand belonged to. Staring at it, she could see it was a small left hand- about the size of her own actually. It must've belonged to a child. The voice sounded male, but also young... in fact, she'd heard the voice before once... and even before then! Something finally 'clicked' in her head, and D'Neya suddenly knew exactly who this was.
"But you said all those confusing things about people stronger and weaker than me! If I use this to become stronger, it'll all be easier to understand."
There was a brief pause, and 'Mr. Book' 'spoke' again.
that was before it was a good idea then but its a bad idea now alot of things have changed and theres really alot of new things that have happened and at this point itd be better to use alot more tactics than just trying to kill people actually theres a pretty sensible way that you could get everyone to kill each other right now but it might not be such a good idea even if your the only one left it wont get you out of here theres another battle filled with people stronger than you in fact i bet everyone in this battle is stronger than you i mean seriously what assholes idea was it to bring you into this thing???????????????????????
'Mr. Book' stopped again for a moment.
why are you listening to me anyway? if my orders are confusing couldnt you just ignore them?
D'Neya didn't even have to think about that one, and with an adorable 'uuu!' noise, she answered almost instantly "Because you wanted to help me Mr. Book! I'm not very good at Strah-Teh-Jiizing, but you're willing to do all the thinking for me! You're a nice person Mr. Book, even if you don't realize it."
....
....
heh. if you really trust me then... , why don't you just relax a bit?. i promise i have something really really cool i can do with this energy field, but it wont work if your watching.
With another "uuu!" sound, D'Neya nodded, and closed her eyes. After a brief second, the most relaxing feeling came over her, as the two gloved hands grabbed the pronged device.
***
"just what is it that you think you see????????? kihihihihihihihihihihihi!!!!!!!!!!!!!1"
To be honest, Aegis had no idea WHAT he saw. Or more importantly, what he heard. He'd never 'heard' someone stack question marks, and he quite sure it was technically impossible.
"im pretty sure you thought my name was carabet..., or maybe it was larus???????? kyahahahahahahahaha!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
The figure looked to be a young boy, but it was hard to tell from here. His long blond hair was slicked back, and he wore a rather fancy-looking black suit, and a miniature top-hat. But Aegis's eyes were drawn to his face. The boy's mouth seemed perpetually stuck up in a huge grin, and his skin was white as alabaster. Actually, when he 'spoke,' his mouth didn't seem to move at all... was it a mask?
"this whole mess with the shapeshifting spy sure is confusing..., dont you think its confusing??????? its hard to see things from here in nowhere but from what i have seen you guys have no idea whats going on!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! nyahahahahahahaha!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Finally Aegis spoke "I dunno what the fuck you're talking about! But if the spy's a shapeshifter, and you look like someone I ain't seen before, then you're definitely the spy!"
can a shapeshifter change only his own shape???????????
"Oh just shut up already!" Aegis heaved his gun over his shoulder, and aimed it at the boy.
With a borrowed tongue, the boy said a single sentence.
"It's a pity I'm standing on an armory"
Actually, this was the first time he'd actually 'spoken,' and the pitch of the voice suggested it was a young girl, rather than a boy. Or it would have, were it not drowned by the sounds of gunfire, as countless guns buried beneath the sand fired off at once.
"Fortunately not a single bullet will strike either of us."
call it a present..., kyahahahahahahahahaha
****
D'Neya's eyes finally opened back up again, her masked friend having brought her to another building for shelter.
you should probably avoid talking about killing people for now. if that aegis man has 1 or 2 functioning brain cells hell consider what i said to him. ive attempted to redirect some blame towards larus the gray man.
"See Mr. Book? I can't even follow what you're talking about, but it sounds like you have everything under control! You're alot smarter than I am!"
....heh. hey dneya if you dont mind do you think you could not call me mr book anymore i mean im not even using the book to talk to you we lost the book back in the swamp remember
"Uu! I don't know what else to call you!"
well i guess thats my fault for never telling you my real name.
"So what is your real name Mr. Book? I promise I'll call you that from now on!"
heh. my real name is...,
drake eon
Re: Intense Struggle! (Round 3 - The Wasteland) - SleepingOrange - 07-12-2010
Originally posted on MSPA by SleepingOrange.
R-r-reserved
Re: Intense Struggle! (Round 3 - The Wasteland) - GBCE - 07-12-2010
Originally posted on MSPA by The Dr..
Re: Intense Struggle! (Round 3 - The Wasteland) - SleepingOrange - 07-12-2010
Originally posted on MSPA by SleepingOrange.
The group carrying Aph moved towards the ruined scientific facility. It was hard work, trudging through the sands; it was harder still to move while carrying the bound nymph. Progress was frequently slowed by a stumble or having to pass the woman from one person to another. At one point, the normally sure-footed Clara got her shoe tangled in some sort of root and had nearly fell onto her face; only her stick caught her, and it took several seconds to disentangle whatever was wrapped around her ankle.
Once she was moving again, she lifted the hem of her habit; a ring of shallow scratches wrapped around her pale ankle, and she pulled a face. Must have been some sort of thorny desert plant. Better her than anyone else, she figured; it's not like she could feel it or really be inconvenienced. A quick glance back revealed that a short length of green had been pulled up by her passage, and it was indeed covered in short, bristly cactus thorns. Clara shrugged and kept moving, attention focused again on the building in front of them.
What she didn't see was the root retracting back into the sand several seconds after she passed; she similarly missed a general shifting of the ground towards a dune that bordered the sunward side of the laboratory they were approaching.
At the top of that dune was a small, cantaloupe-sized succulent, with a single, bright-red flower in the center of its fat green leaves. By all accounts, it appeared to be a boringly-normal cactus up until the moment Clara had stumbled upon her snare; as she struggled to release herself from its grasp, the succulent shuddered slightly and began secreting small drops of clear liquid from the tips of its leaves. A few moments later, a gust of the hot wind that constantly rearranged the desert whistled past, slightly unearthing several unidentifiable rodent skulls.
Another window than the one D'neya had found serviceable was found to be more accommodating to the task of hoisting a helpless nymph through it. The room on the other side was rather similar to its companion; save for a long electrical burn down one wall, however, its contents were largely undamaged. A dusty computer sat on a moldering desk, and an ancient filing cabinet sat forgotten in a corner; there was even a plastic ficus that had appeared at some point in its past to harbor a colony of spiders, but aside from the toll years had taken on the furniture, there was no real damage. The window had even been unbroken, and Larus had managed to lever it open from outside before shutting it again to keep out the sand.
Clara wheeled the chair from behind the desk into the center of the room, and the ex-hero sat Aph somewhat roughly in it. B, who had tagged along silently, was maintaining his taciturn demeanor in a corner, biting his nails and thinking about the research facility he had so recently left. The nun shot Larus a glance. "What do you plan now?"
Larus shrugged. Much of the reason he'd suggested moving to shelter was to stall for time while he organized his own thoughts, and that was far from over. "Well, I mean... I guess the first thing to do..." He trailed off, struggling to assemble his suspicions and ideas into a cogent plan, or even a cogent sentence. He rolled a hand, trying to indicate through the economical gesture all the uncertainty and doubt he was struggling with. Clara bit her lip, and Aph snorted. "Let me guess, you can't interrogate me here either, the decor is just too tacky. Gotta find a better-appointed shelter!"
The elderly sister sighed. This thing that claimed to be Aph was testing her normally-bottomless patience. She'd dealt with people who were sarcastic or abrasive or even deliberately unpleasant before, but the fact that this one had the indecency to pretend to be someone who was so sweet and thoughtful, even if a bit weird, was grating. "Look, I have an idea. Hold this." She shoved her cane into Larus's arms and shifted the weight of her book on her back. A piece of chalk was pulled from a sleeve, and she began drawing a very angular diagram around Aph's chair.
It could feel vibration. Movement. Large things moving. Larger things than the tiny lizards and mice it had gotten for years. It had felt explosions. It had lost limbs, but that was a decent price to pay if there was real game around. In the dim awareness that passed for thought, it wondered why the prey wasn't moving towards it now; it knew it had injected a large dose into whatever had found one of its tendrils, and it knew that anything filled with the poison should be compelled to seek out the scent of its nectar. The succulent wrapped its coils tighter around the hard thing it grew next to, and sent several inside through sharp apertures and narrow cracks.
Watching the nun work was as ever bewildering. Her hands moved with bizarre speed and accuracy, creating apparently from memory intricate designs and patterns. "I'll just be a minute," she trilled, as an overall pattern or rhombuses within rhombuses appeared. At each point of the largest diamond, there was a small circle; they were the only curves in the diagram, which now covered an area of about two feet in every direction from the nymph. "What... What does this thing do? Not something with zombies, I assume?"
"No, it's just a zone of truth. Makes it impossible, or at least hard, to lie while you're in it." Larus grimaced slightly; it seemed too easy, like there had to be some sort of catch, but what did he know from magic? And it's not like he had any better ideas; at the very least this gave him some time to think. "How much longer before you can start it up?" After a short exhalation and a pensive hum, Clara answered "Two, maybe three minutes?" The grey man nodded to himself. "I think I'll see where we are, then. Get a feel for the location." Clara mhmmed vaguely, and Larus stepped out into the hall.
Sitting back on her haunches, the necropolitan looked sadly at Aph. Or "Aph". This was the sort of spell people used on criminals or traitors or heretics, not their friends. Clara hated using magic like this, and she hated the situation that was forcing her to. "Aph..." She sighed. "If this really is you, what's gotten into you?" The nymph simply spat at the nun's feet for her troubles. "You force my hand, dear." There was a snarl in the pink figure's voice as she snapped "Don't call me dear, hag."
Clara sighed heavily as she kneeled again. She ran her fingers around the edge of one of her circles before making a plucking motion and slowly drawing her hand up. A grey taper rose out of the floor as her hand ascended, a wick that hadn't existed a moment before grasped between thumb and forefinger. Though she wouldn't say it to Larus, and was barely admitting it to herself, she had no idea how the spell would interact with a magical being like Aph. Sure, Clara used magic, and used it fairly well for the most part, but she was not a spectacular wizard or even a notably powerful one. Her knowledge of thaumological theory was basic and probably outdated, and for all that she could remember a thousand and one rituals, it was all rote, not the true skill and talent real mages had. This and a million other things worried her as she pulled the last candle out of the floor and summoned a small, hovering flame with a click of her fingers.
It was nearly blind. Well, it was always blind, but its tremorsense was amazingly adapted for this sandy terrain, and it could perceive anything on or in the desert better than any sight ever could. It could "see" for miles in every direction; it existed for miles in every direction. But as its tendrils pressed into the strange, angular thing its prey had moved into, it found a lack of sand and it could barely feel the movement of anything inside. Still, rhythmic motion, one-two, one-two... Yes, there was something. Hard to make out, but there. It moved towards the prey.
Larus gloomily reflected on his situation. Unknown to him, nearly sixty other people had had this moment themselves or would be having it soon, but to him this battle was a personal hell, probably designed just to punish him. He was impotently furious at the madman who had put them all here, bitter at his competitors, and rankled at being forced to work so closely with some senile old bible-thumper.
He'd passed several doors and dodged several holes in the floor, but hadn't felt like doing much exploring beyond heading up and down the hallway. On a whim, he turned into another room, alone with his thoughts and not sure what to believe about anything. The room he entered was an office, much like the one the group had climbed into, but in disarray and with the window broken. Sand poured in through the window, errant gusts of wind sending handfuls of the damned stuff tumbling onto the floor. Nothing much in here but shattered furniture and paper that looked like it would crumble if he breathed near it, much less picked it up. He huffed and turned back around, heading aimlessly into the hallway and picking another door at random; it was across and a couple down from the one he'd just left, and he had to force it to open it.
The hinges went before the knob did, and the door clattered to the floor within. There was a window across from the doorway, its panes smashed in long ago and the sun glaring directly through the hole. Squinting in the sudden brightness, Larus looked around the new room; it seemed to be a server center of some sort, with large, monitorless computers lined up in rows and wires criss-crossing the floor. And, oddly, the walls. Curious, the brigand moved to one of the thick cords that stretched across the wall, one hand shielding his face from the sun. He leaned close to one that didn't seem connected to anything; it languidly reached back.
The last candle was lit and they were burning warmly and with a slight green tint to the edges of the flames. Clara cast a worried glance towards the door, nervous both at the spell she was about to complete and at the fact that Larus had yet to come back. It was probably a simple matter of popping her head into the hall and seeing him approach, but she didn't particularly want to leave Aph or the sigils unwatched.
"B, love, would you be a dear and find Mr. Larus for me?" The boy, who had been mulling things over in his head with a dejected air of sulkiness, started. With a couple of ums and uhs, he nodded and moved quickly out of the room, less to actually look for his grey quarry than simply to duck having to have any sort of conversation right now. He still wasn't sure about what had happened in the swamp, but was sure that he didn't want to be sharing it with anyone right now. Automatically, he closed the door behind him.
Clara turned a wan smile on the scowling nymph before her. She knew she ought to start the spell soon, before the glyphs became smudged or the candles burnt too far or any of a million other little hiccups happened, but... Neither Larus nor B had come back, and the uncertainty bout the results of casting weighed on the cleric's mind. Still, doubt ill became a prophetess, so...
"If you really are Aph, I'm truly sorry."
It spread out slowly. It did everything slowly. Most everything, anyway. Sometimes it could be frighteningly fast, but usually it embodied the torpor of the desert. It reached across surfaces; it could feel its prey, far away, faintly, but there were barriers in the way and things it couldn't see everywhere. And so it spread, slowly and near-aimlessly. When the thudding one-two one-two of one of the biggest morsels began moving towards it, it was happy as it was able to be; when the vibrations moved away again, it stretched towards them, slow as ever. And then they came back.
And then they came closer.
And they they were so close that it could feel the air move as the prey came closer and it reached.
The wire moved slowly towards Larus's face. It was no challenge at all to move slightly back from it, a monochrome eyebrow raised in confusion. As the stretching coil continued to move towards him, he simply took a couple steps back and waited for his eyes to adjust to the brightness. Once they did, it became apparent that the "wire" was a thin vine or tentacle of some sort, covered both in narrow thorns and fine hairs; not one to indulge idle curiosity, especially idle curiosity that was trying to touch his face, Larus moved to leave the room. As he turned, he felt a searing pain down his calf; a glance downward revealed that another such vine had slid its way up his pant leg.
Re: Intense Struggle! (Round 3 - The Wasteland) - Ixcaliber - 07-12-2010
Originally posted on MSPA by Ixcalibur.
Aph gazed at Sister Clara, coldly and disinterestedly as she read out the incantation to activate the zone of truth. Speaking of which, in truth Aph had been waiting for a moment when the attention of others had been occupied by some other event so that she could just float off and look for a way to undo her bonds at her leisure. Unfortunately when you are suspected of being a spy people tend to keep a pretty close eye on you. She was especially glad that Clara had kicked B out, aside from the fact that it was one less pair of eyes watching her every movement, she was getting unusually angry at him. His gangly awkwardness, his stupid multicoloured hair, everything about him just annoyed her. Now she only had Clara to worry about, and if she played her cards right in this little question and answer session she would soon be free to go and do whatever the hell she wanted. Sister Clara completed her incantation and the candles around the base of the chair began to glow a brilliant green colour, presumably indicating that the Truth Zone had been activated. Sister Clara plastered that faux-regretful look on her face and began to question her.
"Are you a spy for The Monitor?" Sister Clara asked directly.
"Of course not you twisted old witch." Aph said, a fake cheerful smile plastered across her face.
Clara frowned, taken aback. Not that she had already pre-judged Aph to be the spy, but no matter how she thought about it, she could not make her sudden change make sense any other way. "If you are not the Monitor's spy, then what happened? Why are you like this now?"
"It was that kid." Aph said. "I was lost in the swamp, I was crying like a little girl over Aegis dragging you off right after I asked you to marry me. God I was such a sap back then. Anyway that kid, what's his name again?"
"B." Clara supplied when it was clear that this story would not continue without this information.
"Oh man really?" Aph asked. "What a dumb name. Anyway B came up to me and blew this crazy powder in my face, then he ran off saying it was a gift from The Monitor and laughing to himself. Oh man wait do you think that he could be the spy?"
Clara was stunned. This spell was reliable, she'd regretfully seen it in action before. While it was true that it was possible to lie under it's influence it was not easy to do so, and the lies were always so strained and difficult for the subject to say that it was pretty clear that they were not true. "Aph." she said, apologetically. "I am so sorry. I didn't know. Why couldn't you just tell us?"
"Why the hell would I have wanted to?" Aph asked. "Once I saw what a manipulative old shrew you were I didn't want any more to do with you."
Clara pushed aside Aph's insults. She knew that they were not of her own volition. They were a product of what B had done to her. Part of her was still reeling from that. But it made a kind of sense; he was a shapeshifter after all. "Don't worry Aph." she said. "I will find a way to fix what he did to you." Suddenly the conversation was interrupted by a familiar scream from a nearby corridor. Clara reacted instantly, rushing out of the room, leaving Aph all alone.
Minutes before B was walking the empty corridors looking for Larus. He trudging dejectedly through the hallways, poking his head into an office or two as he did so, but he was distracted, thinking about what had happened in the swamp, trying to peice together the events that had followed into a narrative that made sense. As he was doing this the corridor began to flicker with green energy. Bizarre shapes hung still in the air, they were long and many faceted, and in places they passed over and through other shapes. What they were supposed to be was difficult to discern. B turned his head this way and that way and eventually realised that each shape was an echo of a person. The echo was so bizarre because it was trying to show everything that person had done all at once. Every step they took and every move they made laid out in front of him. As he realized this it began to flicker and fade and when it snapped back it was the same person but shown at only one point in time. It was clear to see what was going on now, he was fleeing from something, his eyes wide with panic, his mouth open mid-scream. B glanced down the corridor to where he was coming from. There he saw another shape, a crackling cloud of electricity. B walked down to the thing in question, it had a woman's face, short hair and half moon glasses perched upon her nose. Suddenly things flickered again and the echoes momentarily vanished and then returned, this time with movement and voices. B jumped back as the electric woman came to life cackling as she fired off bolts of electricity. Further down the corridor he could hear the fleeing scientist screaming; interestingly both of the echoes had Sister Clara's voice, and now that he thought about it the green tinge of the ghosts had resembled that which he had seen on the flames of the candles. Finally coming to his senses B rushed back towards the room Clara had been in. She would want to know about this.
Aph didn't know what the deal with the scream had been, but she was grateful for it's timing, had Clara walked over and attempted to free her from her bonds she might well have noticed that the zone of truth was having no discernible effect. Now that Clara had left the room Aph floated from the chair and righted herself. While she wasn't exactly free from her bonds she was pretty much able to move around as she pleased. The problem being that Larus had taken her blade while he had tied her up, and she wanted that blade back. It had sentimental value. Hopefully while Clara and B were busy trying to figure out the riddle of who was the spy and why, she would be able to get Larus, get her blade back and she'd see where she went from there.
Re: Intense Struggle! (Round 3 - The Wasteland) - Ixcaliber - 07-14-2010
Originally posted on MSPA by Ixcalibur.
Aph peers out of the office door, scanning the hallways for Sister Clara, and finding that she has already disappeared deeper into the labyrinthine building she floats out into the corridor. Aph floated leisurely down the hallways, having no need to step cautiously around the holes and crumbling parts of floor like her competitors. With no real idea which direction Larus might have gone she just floats randomly down the corridors, idly comptemplating recent events and hoping to spot some indication of where Larus had gone.
Larus reacted instinctively, he hardened his hands till they were like stone, and then reached down to the vine that was winding its way up his leg and ripped it free. For a moment a clear liquid poured from the snapped vine, pooling on the floor in front of him. Larus' head felt light, the room starting to spin around him. He straightened up and held onto the wall to keep his balance, as he did so the vine that had been reaching for him at head height, pounced. It wound it's way around his neck and down his shoulder and back, causing shooting pain and further disorientation through Larus at it did so. Larus flailed out into the spinning space around him, feeling his hands grasp the vine and pull it till it snapped. Larus' head was swimming, it was getting hard to think. Part of him just wanted to lie down and wait for the world to stop spinning, while another more sensible part just wanted to get out of the room with the vines. A third and alien part of his mind was thinking it would be a good idea to wander into the desert and try to seek out the source of these vines. For some reason this appeared to be the most appealing of the ideas, if only he could remember how to operate a door.
Aph's attention was attention was suddenly caught by the rattling of a door nearby. She floated in place and stared at it for a few seconds as it became apparent that whoever was inside was having significant difficulty operating this complex piece of machinery. She ruminated on this information for a couple of seconds and decided that any one of her moronic competitors could have been stuck in there.
"Larus?" she asked hopefully. There was no response from whomever was on the other side of the door. "Larus if that's you, you better come out here and get me because I am totally the spy!" There was a thud like something heavy slamming hard into the door, but it was surprisingly sturdy. "I am going to go away and report all my findings to The Monitor!" she tried again. Another thud, and some of the wood began to splinter. "You know if you hadn't tied me up I could have just opened that thing for you." A final thud and the door fell from it's hinges revealing Larus, with skin of stone and strings of thorned vines wrapped around his body. He looked at Aph for a second and then walked straight past her, stumbling down the corridor, seemingly lost in his own world.
"Hey!" Aph yelled after him. "Give me my sword back you ignorant bastard!" Larus did not respond and Aph rushed angrily after him, throwing herself into the back of his head. Lacking the proper motivation to change back Larus had remained in stone form throughout his traipsing and now as he crashed down the floor creaked ominously underfoot. Suddenly Aph's attention was drawn to just how fragile this building was; half buried in the sand, with deadly vines growing through the cracks, this building could come crashing down on top of her at any moment. She turned back to Larus who was in the middle of the complicated process of climbing up from the floor. "This is your fault!" she yelled. "I just wanted to go about my business away from you bunch of freaks but you just had to drag me back in here." Her skin felt hot, as patches of flames started to erupt along it. Aph smiled thoughtfully. "You know what? I wonder if I can still apply to be the Monitor's agent on the inside? All I'd have to do is turn people against one another and maybe a little murdering here and there." she paused. "I've already done the former. Now I'm thinking I might try out a little bit of the latter."
Re: Intense Struggle! (Round 3 - The Wasteland) - Aryogaton - 07-17-2010
Originally posted on MSPA by Aryogaton.
Where the hell did that runt go?!
The mysterious boy was gone, leaving behind no trace other than some collateral damage and Aegis' confusion. Around him, pockets of sand was beginning to drain down newly-created holes in the floor, effectively turning the room into a makeshift square of quicksand. On top of that, the floor was starting to collapse, and considering that a bunch of guns spontaneously fired in the room below him, Aegis decided that getting out of this building would probably be a good idea.
Aegis carried his new weapon over his shoulder and slowly began to step towards the exit he made while getting into this building. After irritatingly filling up his boots with sand, Aegis leapt from the building. In front of him lay the building Aegis arbitrarily decided not to explore a few minutes ago. Thinking that now was a good chance to act on that missed opportunity, he kicked down a crumbling wall and walked in.
The room was larger than most. In the middle was an equally large vat, eerily glowing and emanating an air of sufficient importance. Upon entering the room, the strange weapon seemed to react, giving off a drone that can best be described as a continuous sound of powering down. Noticing this, Aegis lightly kicked it. The machine sputtered, but otherwise continued to make the indescribable sound.
Aegis took a moment to think, despite the fact that intuition had already given him the answer significant moments ago. It was obvious that the machine in front of him was important somehow. It was also easy to deduce that regardless of its purpose, it can't be good for the contestants. While he could care less about what happens to them, the fact that he was also a contestant took prevalence.
Aegis faced a decision: was he to use his fists or use the annoying malfunctioning weapon? The former would be less risky—Aegis knows what happens when knuckle meets glass, after all. The latter, however, would potentially give a more interesting result. Considering the fact that right now Aegis had no clue what it even does, this could turn out to be quite a show.
He decided on the latter. Heaving the weapon over his shoulder, he pulled the lever, and the familiar yet mysterious invisible energy hit the vat. Within a few seconds, it glowed more brightly. A few more and the weapon sputtered and adopted the configuration Aegis now knows as “offâ€. As the effects of the vat, however invisible or unknown as they were, began to amplify, Aegis dropped the useless chunk of metal and took the nearest seat. However, he soon began to feel drowsy, finding himself eager to take a short nap. Aegis shook himself awake and looked at the vat in contempt.
This is boring me enough to make me want to fall asleep. I should've gone with fists after all. He looked at the useless weapon sitting on the ground. Eh. Let's put this thing to use.
With an unsteady motion, Aegis lifted the weapon and hurled it vat-ward.
Re: Intense Struggle! (Round 3 - The Wasteland) - Ixcaliber - 07-18-2010
Originally posted on MSPA by Ixcalibur.
Aph's body briefly flickered with flames, scorching momentarily at the ropes that bound her as a grim smile spread across her face. Then in a moment the flames were extinguished as though blown out by a particularly harsh wind. Aph could feel something tugging at her, pulling her down the corridors somehow. Anyone who had been situated behind Aph would have seen her skin drifting away from her body, her very magical essence being sucked down the hallways. But Larus was busy scrabbling away through the building towards the succulent that was calling to him from the sap that swam through his blood. Aph, already feeling pretty angry, was frustrated further by her sudden inability to use her magic, if there was one thing she had come to depend on in this competition it was that when she got really angry it was there waiting for her, ready to be used to maim and kill. Annoyingly thus far it had not done either of those things. And if that wasn't bad enough there was this bizarre sensation of being pulled, all along her back. She turned around to see what was going on and after a second her essence began to be visibly pulled from her, down the hallways and straight into the vat room. Aph tried to gather her essence back to her, but her trailing hands only caused the essences to make unusual patterns as they dissipated away. Left without a choice Aph was dragged along the passageways inexorably towards the vat chamber.
Aegis watched as the weapon slammed against the thick glass of the vat and fell to the floor. The glass shattered slowly, as hairline fractures spread across the glass from where the weapon had impacted against it. As they spread they widened becoming cracks. In places the cracks became shards of glass and were thrown away from the vat which was only just holding on, magical energy shooting out through the cracks with bolts of lightning or plumes of flame. Alarms which had not rung in years sprung to life and the bank of monitors surrounding the vat began to blink red in alarm. Aegis decided it was not a good idea to hang around any longer, and attempting to shake off the exhaustion that had suddenly come over him stood up. He hurried as fast as he could, one hand against the wall for support as he dragged his sluggish body out of there.
As Aph was dragged down the corridors, her entire body now a blur of energy, she attempted to grab onto the walls, but her skin had practically turned to gas, offering no purchase anywhere. As she was dragged into the vat room she finally saw the cause of her problems, a huge tank of magical energy, mid-way through the process of collapsing, her streaming energies being pulled into it. She didn't even notice Aegis, slumped against the wall, his eyes closing. Ahead of her the vat finally shattered, sending shards of glass flying across the room, embedding them in the walls, chairs and finally silencing the bank of monitors that stretched around the room. In the middle of the room where the vat had just stood there was a kaleidoscopic cloud of magical energy, free from it's confines, just ready to explode. But suddenly it found itself earthed in another vessel, in Aph's rapidly reforming body. As the energy flowed into it's new vessel, some escaped, scorching the walls, or cracking further holes in the floor. The floor underneath the vat buckled as it collapsed into the floor below, causing the entire building to shake. Aph did not feel it though, her mind occupied by the familiar rush of absorbed energy.
This was what it had felt like when she had been created. The first thing she could remember was floating, over a hastily scrawled summoning circle in the middle of Xan's living room. While his place had, despite her best efforts, never been tidy, the chaos of that room on the day she had been created was almost a parallel to her current situation. There was even shattered glass scattered across the floor, though back then it was from a broken mirror rather than a smashed vat of energy. Xan had stood there, tome in hand, never quite noticing that a page had been unfortunately torn out. Aph remembered how when the energy had first stopped coming her first words she had ever uttered had been "I love you", and that Xan's first words he spoke to her had been "Wow I did it, you're really real". And that had pretty much summed up their relationship right until she killed him.
But in the here and now Aph fell to the floor, her body thrumming with energy, but at the same time painfully skewered with shards of glass. If her mind had been struggling before; lost in the fog of hatred, it was nothing compared to how out of control she felt, drowning in a sea of power. Flames burst throughout her body, burning away the ropes that bound her, and then dying back down at her command. She sat up, carefully taking her time in pulling the shards of glass from her body. As she did so a short burst of energy would escape, in a plume of flame, or a shard of ice, before her skin mended back together. She stood up, glancing around the now thoroughly destroyed room. Her eyes alighted upon the prone figure of Aegis, coming to against the wall and she grinned. Flames burst forth from her hand, forming themselves into the rough shape of her old blade, and slowly she advanced upon him.
"Wake up Aegis!" she whispered, a hint of madness in her voice. "You're going to miss all the fun!"
Re: Intense Struggle! (Round 3 - The Wasteland) - SleepingOrange - 07-18-2010
Originally posted on MSPA by SleepingOrange.
Larus, largely unaware of the mana drain, stumbled down the corridor, occasionally putting a foot in a hole or tripping over a small dune. In truth, he wasn't aware of much at all in the outside world; the confusing impressions and colors and feelings that were making up his inside world were far too intense.
He wasn't aware of the fact that his leg and neck and hands had swollen and reddened, welts rising where the merest of brushes with the vines had occurred. He wasn't aware that his mouth was hanging open, bloated tongue lolling and a ribbon of drool trailing down his chin. He wasn't aware of the glass that shredded his hands as he hauled himself out the shattered window or of the wave of heat that assailed him as he did. All he was aware of was the lancing pain shooting through his body, an excruciating agony so intense that it was a physical presence, coupled with confusing kaleidoscopic visions and an intense urge to find the source of this amazing smell.
The increasingly-clumsy super fell out of the window, face slamming into the scorching sand. He rolled down the dune, abrasive silicates lacerating the tender skin of his welts and still-heavy arms bludgeoning him as he rolled. He lay in a heap at the bottom of the hillock, panting and trying to sort out the confusing mess of pain and urges and colors that were his consciousness. Every fiber of his being commanded him to pick up his battered body and climb back up; some internal voice was protesting, but as time went on it became fainter and fainter and it became harder to figure out why he should listen to it in the first place.
The heat of the sun beat down on Larus's grey-and-red skin, the sand absorbing and reflecting it. Blood and drool and tears dripped down his beaten face as he laboriously turned himself over, shredded hands digging into the sand and pulling him slowly up the side of the dune towards the building and whatever it was that he knew he had to find. For every five feet he managed to move forward, he slid five back, still scrabbling on his hands and knees, breath rasping out around his dry tongue. Even though his progress was slow and his body was made of pain, he simply couldn't will himself to stop.
As she'd left Aph and the spell behind, Clara had cast a simple divination to help her find the treacherous B. Following the pointing arrow dutifully, she wandered corridors and rooms, never seeming to come close to finding her quarry. She had no way of knowing the spell was being twisted and guided by the mana machine, and saw no reason not to trust it; she simply assumed the shapeshifter had taken the form of something very fast and had escaped quickly. She was sure she'd find him, though.
Several corridors and a few near misses with holes in the floor later, Clara's spell begin vacillating wildly, the arrow spinning erratically and occasionally winking out of existence. Green shapes formed in the air, ghostly visions with the nun's own voice playing out some sort of twisted drama. A cackling madwoman made of lightning and fury mowed down fleeing scientists, her strikes corresponding exactly with the scorch marks already on the walls. It was disconcerting to listen to your own voice scream for mercy while also denying it, and without the spell's aid she had nothing to do but stand and watch the sadistic scene unfold.
Before it got much farther, though, there was the sound of yet another explosion and all the phantasms winked out of existence. Clara's spell reformed, although larger and more insistent than before; confused and nonplussed, she followed it a bit further. A few flights of stairs and several unnerving incidents wherein the spell appeared to twitch and flicker later, she came to a door with several shards of glass poking through it; thinking it was no different from the destruction she'd already passed, the nun pushed it open.
Had Larus been invisible, it still would have been easy to trace his path up the hill: a wobbling ditch crawled apparently-aimlessly through the sand, stained in places with blood and rather more frequently with vomit. It backtracked several times as he apparently lost his hand-and-footing, rolling back down a ways before eventually righting himself.
Every moment of his inexorable trek upwards was a symphony of ever-amplifying agony, but he knew instinctively that as soon as he reached his goal, everything would be better forever. This single-minded belief forced him to keep going even as he stumbled and his knee came up to meet his elbow and his wrist was forced up beneath his jaw and his teeth sank into his tongue. He kept going as cascades of blood flowed from his mouth and his tears finally gave up from dehydration. In spite of everything, he finally topped the dune; when a flash of red and green caught his eye, a gurgling cough escaped his throat. It was the closest he could emote to joy.
The door swung open, several shards of glass tumbling onto the floor at the impact of Clara's hand. The nun's spell winked out of its own accord, and she looked up to see Aph menacing a prone Aegis with a blade of fire. "Oh, gods and devils."
It could feel the prey scrambling towards it. It had been quivering with anticipation ever since it had delivered a nearly-lethal dose of the poison to the prey, and after some initial confusion the prey was coming ever closer. Nectar dripped down its leaves, dropping off in fat, sweet-smelling blobs as it felt the prey top the dune. Its prey was still moving fairly well, given how much it had been dosed with. It prepared to get up if need be.
Re: Intense Struggle! (Round 3 - The Wasteland) - Ixcaliber - 07-19-2010
Originally posted on MSPA by Ixcalibur.
Larus was beaten, bloody and bruised. His formerly totally grey body now sported all kinds of interestingly coloured splotches and bruises, as well as lots of bright red dripping blood. His hands, red and raw still scrabbled painfully through the sand as he desperately crawled towards the one thing that meant anything to him any more; the sweet smelling nectar of the succulent. Though every movement was a blistering agony that shot through his entire body he knew that it would all be worth it, if he could just keep going a little bit longer. All this pain and the ordeals he had been through in the course of this battle would evaporate away in a matter of moments. If anything they would make his eternal happiness that much more sweeter by comparison. Until his legs suddenly buckled lifelessly underneath him, refusing to respond any longer no matter how much he willed them to do so. Larus didn't give up, he couldn't; the succulent's poison would not let him abandon his efforts to reach the nectar, not when it was so tantalisingly close. So using all of his available strength he tried to haul himself towards the flower, it was an exercise in excruciating futility. Despite his efforts he could not drag himself along the desert sands by sheer force of willpower alone.
The succulent felt the vibrations of Larus' feeble attempts to reach it. Whether it was because of the size of its prey, or the length of time since it had had such a meal, the succulent was getting uncharacteristically impatient. Stretching limbs that had lain dormant for years it pushed itself out of the sands. The succulent, what had been an apparently harmless, insignificant speck of green and red amongst the rolling plains of the desert, maneouvred on limbs of twisted vine until it loomed threateningly over Larus' near lifeless form. Hungrily it slathered thick droplets of nectar and prepared to eat.
As those droplets of nectar dripped down onto Larus' vulnerable body he found himself with just enough time to re-evaluate how delicious and desirable the nectar had been in the first place. His body still ached, and the happiness that would sweep over him and last forever was mystifyingly absent. As the hungry succulent began to feed upon him his last thoughts were that of regret. In his world he had had a rule: only ever fight 'normals'. Though one might have considered this rule to be somewhat unfair, considering his ability, it had always worked for him, only failing when he had been forced into this contest he had been forced to fight enemies who were about as far from 'normals' as you could get. And consequently here he was; a victim of circumstance, and of The Monitor's cruel game; a long awaited meal for a very hungry plant.
Re: Intense Struggle! (Round 3 - The Wasteland) - Dragon Fogel - 07-19-2010
Originally posted on MSPA by Dragon Fogel.
As soon as Larus' fate was clear to the Monitor, there was a flash of light, and the desert sands vanished.
A moment later, each combatant found themselves in a simple wooden house, unable to move. None of the others were in sight, nor any other soul.
The Monitor spoke.
"Welcome. This location is a replica of the village of Salem, in the colony of Massachussets. As far as the locals are concerned, the year is 1692. And the fear of witches is everywhere."
With a push of a button, the Monitor transported a mirror in front of each contestant. The figure in the mirror was not their own.
"I am projecting an illusion onto all five of you. Each of you has now taken on the appearance of an ordinary villager. You should be wary of using any of your powers, as the town is likely to take all of them as signs of witchcraft. And you will be unable to recognize each other on sight."
With the press of another button, the mirrors vanished. Each of the five then felt a small slip of paper materialize in their hands.
"These messages will inform you of the roles you have been thrust into. I suggest you pay close attention to them if you wish to avoid raising the suspicions of the other villagers. They are quite... creative... in dealing with witches."
There was a brief pause, and the contestants felt themselves able to move. Then, after a moment, they were frozen again.
"One last detail," the Monitor said, as if it had just occurred to him. "I cannot guarantee that there are no true witches among the populace..."
The Monitor's voice faded. The combatants were free to move once more.
Re: Intense Struggle! (Round 4 - Old Salem) - SleepingOrange - 07-25-2010
Originally posted on MSPA by SleepingOrange.
As the Monitor explained the terms and conditions and situations from this round, Clara examined her new self in the mirror. Piercing dark eyes stared out at her from under unruly eyebrows, a mass of red hair and a singed beard to match surrounding her new grizzled face. Really, the best word for it was "ruddy"; there was a bulbous red nose topped the tangled red moustache and reddened cheeks surrounded by red hair and traversed by a livid red scar. It was disconcerting watching this unfamiliar man's face move with her eyes, his expressions mimicking hers perfectly.
As soon as she was free to move again, she looked down at herself. Aside from the missive clenched tightly in the hand that didn't hold her cane, everything was familiar and normal; her aged frame was the same as it always was, and her habit, though dusty, was unchanged. A glance at the pewter water jug on one table that graced this spartan room told her that the rest of the world saw her as a large, burly man dressed in a leather apron with a craftsman's toolbelt at her waist. Sighing at the disparity and the duplicity inherent in the situation, the nun unfolded her note. A mechanically-precise hand had written out a brief summary of who she was supposed to be:
As far as anyone else in this town is aware, you are George Brown, the most accomplished blacksmith in Salem Village. You are unmarried and considered somewhat strange and antisocial, but your skill as a smith lends you some amount of lenience from the scrutiny of other villagers. In these suspicious times, though, nearly anything is enough to arouse suspicion of witchcraft.
Your closest friend is an apothecary names James Struthers; he is your next-door neighbor and a childhood friend. You typically had little extended non-professional contact with anyone else save your aged mother, and following her death three months ago you became even more withdrawn, venturing out only rarely, being more brusque than usual with your customers, and entertaining the company only of James. There have been hints of rumor regarding your relationship with James, but this has largely been forgotten in the monomania of the witch-hunts.
You have an appointment in several hours to discuss business with a farrier named Eric Lauhorn; he will likely be attempting to purchase horseshoes from you. You and Eric have a cordial business relationship, but personally loathe one another.
Most or all members of this community are members of a puritanical sect of one of this world's largest religions: Christianity. Ignorance of their traditions, customs, and beliefs will be treated as extremely suspicious and exhibition of "pagan" beliefs is dangerous.
Clara pursed her lips, and George pursed them with her. Lovely of him to let her know all of this without telling her what her acquaintances looked or acted like. Lovelier still to make dire warnings about this Christianity thing without mentioning what Christians believed or what a pagan meant in this context.
Experimentally, she looked at herself in the reflection of the jug and attempted to grab one of the tools at her belt. Her hand passed straight through it, of course. Schleier help her if she had to actually do any smithing. It was honestly infuriating being dumped into a situation where she would have to continue to deceive and lie but without even knowing what the lie was supposed to be; it was doubly so because she felt she had been deliberately placed in a position that would be the hardest to maintain. Between B's treachery and Aph's growing psychosis, Clara half-suspected that she and Larus might be the only ones here who weren't in cahoots with the Monitor. Frankly...
The thought occurred to Clara that she had no idea who was dead. Given that they were in a new scenario and their sadistic Grandmaster had mentioned five people, someone had to have died. It couldn't be her, obviously, and Aph hadn't managed to do anything to Aegis... It had to be B or Larus. Clara doubted very much that the Monitor would let his little spy die so soon, so...
Stiffening her resolve, Clara decided she'd seek out the other contestants and out the traitorous B before her appointment came this afternoon. Since the beginning of this contest, if it was truly the contest the demonic Monitor made it out to be, she'd had the niggling feeling that the divine purpose she'd been born for was to take down the cruel Grandmaster; those suspicions were rapidly congealing, and the ordinarily-pacifistic nun was harboring some decidedly uncharitable thoughts.
She strode across the rough floor towards the exit to this little hovel; she opened the door, not sure what to expect from a place called Massachusetts. As her eyes adjusted to the sunlight she saw a small stone room with a number of passages leading off it; there were two other people in the room with her, as well as a pile of boxes and a quivering column of night. There was a sunlit road lined with houses. The nun blinked and shook her head; she wasn't sure what she'd just been seeing, but it had been incredibly disconcerting. And oddly familiar.
She tried to put it out of her mind and take in the scene; around her was an old village composed of small wooden houses, the sun beating down and the scent of agriculture drifting on the breeze. Actually, Clara reasoned, it probably wasn't an old village yet; she was just in the wrong time. For as many houses as there were and for the time of day it was, there were surprisingly few people obviously out and about. The few she could see were moving quickly without running, and tended to look at their feet until they got to their destination. The oppressive silence and defeated-looking citizens gave the place an air of desolation despite the bright spring sun and cheery foliage in evidence everywhere. Clara steeled herself, and with no real plan in mind, strode out to find her opponents.
Re: Intense Struggle! (Round 4 - Old Salem) - Ixcaliber - 08-06-2010
Originally posted on MSPA by Ixcalibur.
As The Monitor explained their new locale Aph was only barely paying attention to the words of their mysterious host. She was lost in her own thoughts, the portion of herself which she traditionally considered to be her ‘self’ lost amongst the new magic that now flows through her body. It was difficult to focus with so many conflicting thoughts and ideas swimming through her mind, but even so her thoughts were brought to a head as a mirror extended in front of her revealing not her normal form but a teenage girl with long red hair and hazel eyes. She wore a long black dress and a somewhat vacant expression. After a brief explanation from The Monitor Aph crumpled the paper in her hand, discarding it to the floor of the old fashioned building she found herself in. The room was a small and rather plain bedroom, with the only hint as to the inhabitant, a ragged doll idly discarded on the threadbare sheets of the bed. But this was not of interest to nymph who still wrestled with the many conflicting thoughts and emotions playing out in her head. A shout echoed through the small wooden house.
“Madeline!” the voice echoed. The voice was slightly concerned but more irritated; the voice of a woman who had clearly had to put up with this kind of thing before. It was the voice of a mother. After a moment there was a follow-up shout. “Get out here right this second! You will do your chores if I have to come in there and drag you out myself.” Then, after a second or so, the sound of footsteps echoed throughout the house; heading towards her. Aph’s mind lurched across some information she had been given. She’d been given a role to play in this place, and she’d been told that she could not use her powers or else be thought a witch. Lacking the knowledge of someone from Earth as it was in this instance, she did not really understand the full implications of this, but she understood full well that this was not a desirable outcome. Thoughts, borne of the magic she had absorbed, protested angrily in her head. This power had been a gift, the ability to control her abilities in a way that she never had before. It seemed wrong not to utilise it to the best of her ability. Almost like an insult, although an insult to whom she had no idea. Her train of thought was interrupted by a tall red-headed woman wearing a black dress very similar to the one that she had appeared to be wearing in the mirror. She looked very cross.
“Madeline.” her mother said flatly. “The Good Lord did not put you on this Earth to daydream your life away young lady.” She snapped. Sparks flickered momentarily through Aph’s eyes. The thought of restraining herself, acting the part of Madeline, left a sour taste in her mouth. She felt like the whole of her life she had been restraining herself, stopping herself from reaching her true potential. Now the power flowed within her and The Monitor expected her to hold herself back? To be less than she could be? Her mother stood, her arms folded, an angry glare blaring down at ‘Madeline’.
“I’m sorry Mother.” Aph said; her voice suddenly enthused with joy. “I was just thinking of how to best kill you.” Her mother’s face barely changed as it registered the words; her eyebrows raised but that was about it.
“If you think that a sick joke like that will do anything but get you further in trouble then you are very much mistaken.” Her mother said. “If you are not careful I will be having a word with Reverend Greene about you.”
“We wouldn’t want that now would we?” Aph asks and as a grin spreads across her transformed face a blade made from electricity formed itself in her hands. Her mother’s face fell with shock, and for a minute she stared at the disguised nymph in disbelief, before letting loose a scream.
“Witch!” she bellowed. Aph rushed forwards, grabbing her mother’s throat with her free hand. Sparks scattered from her hand scorching at her neck. Her 'mother' gurgled ineffectually, gasping for breath.
“Given the opportunity I’d kill you slow.” Aph said cheerfully, seemingly ignorant of her mother’s pain. “Take my time; get a feel for my powers...” She paused, listening to the sound of people rushing towards the house. “But something tells me I won’t be short of test subjects…” Aph flashed her a fleeting grin as she plunged the electric blade into her mother’s chest and quickly discarded her body into one of the corners of the room; scorched, bloody and dying.
Re: Intense Struggle! (Round 4 - Old Salem) - GBCE - 08-09-2010
Originally posted on MSPA by Draykon.
D'Neya didn't like it.
Betty Parris has, for the past several weeks, suffered from fits of what the villagers of this time can only describe as demonic possession. Her symptoms have included convulsions, contortions, and outbursts of gibberish, commonly interpreted as speaking in tongues.
If it had been Mr. Book- Mr. Eon actually- to leave her a note like that, she would have probably taken on the role in a heartbeat. After all, she could see in the way he'd written things that he wasn't a bad person. He was smart too, it was obvious by the way he wrote things.
D'Neya didn't know the first thing about analyzing writing styles, but she was certain that she could see in the way that Mr. Eon had written that he cared about her.
Despite her young age, Betty has not been excluded from scrutiny. She is believed to be one of the Devil's favorite targets among all the villagers, and has frequently testified against many accused of witchcraft.
This note was different. Its... soul was different. In fact, you probably couldn't even call it a soul.
'It means exactly what it says. There's no life behind it.'
That was probably it. When Mr. Eon had talked to her she was certain she was talking to someone. It wasn't an encyclopedic explanation of what she should do. It was a real person who could think and speak. This note- from whoever was in control right now- didn't sound like it was a real person. There was no room for ambiguity, no room for morals or compromise.
This was just what the guy in control wanted, spelled out in plain terms.
D'Neya didn't even finish reading the note.
****
"This is the absolute biggest ass move you could have pulled."
In his dark cell, a scruffy looking man cursed aloud. It seemed that he'd been allowed a note as well, albeit a much shorter one.
If you insist on interefering with this experiment, I shall place you in the same position as the contestants. Unlike the Director, I have many ways of dealing with meddling ghosts.
The first statement was of course, a blatant lie. This was a way to get Drake out of the way. He wouldn't be too surprised if the man he'd ended up shoved in the form of was set up to die in his prison cell or something. He tugged at the chains binding him to the wall.
"There's some kind of structural instability right where these chains connect to the walls!"
But it was no good. He couldn't think of anything but the vaguest of declarations, and none of them were any match for a space with so many people. The chains stayed firmly attached to the solid wall.
"Well now, perhaps I can help with this predicament of yours, Unknown Factor."
Drake scowled at the darkness. The man who was standing there now, almost certainly hadn't been moments ago.
"Of course, even Unknowns must pay the same price."
The handsome man pulled from behind him a thick black book.