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+---- Thread: Mini-Grand 5102 [Round 3: Rome, 2020] (/showthread.php?tid=680)
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Re: Mini-Grand 5102 [Round 2: Shuck Hollow] - GBCE - 09-07-2011
Originally posted on MSPA by Pharmacy.
Miecz was pretty sure he completely destroyed the head. Yet, how come the golem was still standing tall? Perhaps, victory was in another spot? Dodging another limb chasing towards him, the fighter deftly made his around the shoulders of the massive construct, slashing at estimates of a tender point. It has been a couple of minutes since his brute-force searching, and fortune still had not smiled upon. Fortunately (or was it unfortunately?), his futile progress was interrupted by upcoming thunder. Wait, was it bad weather or was it –
Oh.
Suddenly, the unwanted passenger and the golem was shook by a great force, larger than any earthquake Miecz had felt back at home –yet, this strength, this speed. This disaster may be unnatural, but it was certainly not unfamiliar. Holding a steady grip, Miecz looked down and found his expectation to be correct. There was that massive rust-beast, abyssal eyes pitted with probable revenge. Judging from the way the rust tumbling out of its mouth in a way akin to spittle dribbling from a rabid beast, Miecz was pretty sure that this Rome fellow wanted to kill him.
Screeching the sorrows of a thousand dead kings (Miecz was pretty sure that description was apt for that action), the draconic-gazelle viciously dugs its hooves into the artificial golem. Without warning, Rome sped up the sheer wall of robots and then he leapt. The merciless skies colored red with rust and rage and suddenly the alchemical construct descended hooves first, intending to make Miecz into swordmonster paste.
<font color="#933E19">BAM! Pain exploded in the many-bladed fighter as creeping unconsciousness threatened to envelop his jarred mind. However, Miecz was made of sturdier stuff and he still was aware of his surroundings, which consisted of his body –inside Rome’s mouth. At the slight stirring on his prey, Rome went into a primal frenzy, swinging the swordmonster like a ragdoll.
Pain, pain, pain! Miecz never felt in such agony in his entire life and what’s worse, he felt like he was going to split into two! Gravity was pulling the duo down at a frightening pace. Blood and dust trailed behind in macabre decoration. Everything was a blur. Yet, Miecz found strength in this harrowing situation. Without trepidation, the blade-master unfurled a blade – and stabbed Rome in the nose.</font>
Rome was aware of the hurt parceled to his nose as he proceeded to groan in histrionic agony. So deep was he in the milky seas of self-pity that the unnatural beast was not aware of the swordmonster crawling up his neck – and the closing ground. Without even a chance to bleat in surprise, Rome felled to the Earth with a tumultuous crash, spilling thick dust everywhere. As for Miecz,
All was <font color="black">black.</font>
***
The swordmonster gasped back into consciousness, pain throbbing in his wedge-like head as the horrible metallic-y taste of rust (and his blood) coated his inside mouth. The fighters carefully wiggled his limbs, unhinged his mouth, and basically check if the rest of his body was in normal condition. To his surprise, it was (other than that nasty wound on his torso)! He was alive! Miecz proceeded to check himself again to make sure. Yes! He was very much alive! He was so pleased with this discovery that he jumped up for joy – and met a nasty surprise.***
<font color="#933E19">There was Rome and apparently the fall did quite a number on him. He looked like if he went halfway through the trash compactor, and got spat into a junkyard full of broken glass. Despite the dust bleeding through the cracks like watery blood, Rome was still standing and fine and also very, very, pissed. His scraped lips were pulled back in a vicious curl, exposing his remaining teeth in a frightening (yet, somehow hilarious) snarl. As the smoldering black hole of the eyes continued to stare, Miecz nervously chuckled and made arbitrary gestures with his sleeves. After some stuttering, the swordmonster finally took a deep breath and blurted out, “I guess I’ll see you then!”
Miecz immediately dropped on fours and bolted off to the buildings. Unsurprisingly, the rolling thunder of rusty revenge trailed behind him at a brisk (and angry) pace. Although Rome had the advantage of speed and many legs, Miecz fortunately had the always reliable advantage of good distance. However, he needed to figure out something –fast. Otherwise, that monstrous beast will make ground beef out of him.</font>
Re: Mini-Grand 5102 [Round 2: Shuck Hollow] - Pick Yer Poison - 09-15-2011
Originally posted on MSPA by Pick Yer Poison.
Janet's fury was beginning to overcome her poltergeist instincts, and the prospect of killing Miecz was rapidly becoming far more attractive than causing chaos. Even moreso, in fact, since she could resume the chaos much more easily once he was out of the picture. She prepared to pin the swordmonster against the golem's back and crush him beneath its weight, when suddenly Rome decided to get him off for her, leaping up and knocking the swordmonster off of her back. She watched curiously as the pair tumbled and flailed, before Miecz disentangled himself and fled towards the town, with Rome in hot pursuit.
It came to Janet's realization that there was a term for what had just happened to her. She had been brushed off. Given the cold shoulder. Randomly spurned. She had been completely ignored. If she'd thought she was angry before, it was nothing compared to now. Both she and her poltergeist nature hated being ignored, and neither was about to stand for it. It didn't matter that just a few moments ago she'd been preparing to beat Miecz to a pulp. If anything, she was now ready to do the same thing, but a lot slower.
The golem began to storm off after Miecz when Janet suddenly began feeling heavier. The golem's movement slowed until it was barely moving, and finally Janet half-floated, half-fell out of the golem, hitting the floor with a wet-sounding splat. The sensation of gravity shocked her; it had been a long time since she'd felt it, but she was pretty sure it didn't feel like there was a leaden weight embedded in her stomach. The whole thing felt unnatural. But not nearly as unnatural as the cold, unsympathetic wood floor pressed against her face. As a ghost, she didn't feel things as anything more than a slight pressure, that was easily bypassed if she felt like moving through a solid object. But now she could feel the floor up against her cheek, and for some reason she had the distinct feeling that it didn't like her. She was strange and unreal, and had no place in this world. Although she was in no position to laugh, the idea that an inanimate object wished her harm suddenly struck her as rather amusing, given that she had spent so much of her time as a poltergeist convincing others of that fact.
A cacophony greeted her ears, and for a few moments she felt her strength return. She crawled toward the door as if in low-gravity, before the leaden weight in her stomach decided to return, and she fell to the ground once more. She lolled her head downwards lazily to peer behind the golem, which had collapsed into a huge pile of robot cowboys behind her, most of which were already picking themselves up. Next to the pile stood Mom, waving a cross shakily and muttering something under her breath. Janet grimaced. Exorcism. Of course. While it didn't actually kill ghosts, it made them more or less sitting ducks, solidifying them and pinning them wherever they were. She really should've recognized it from what she'd heard of it, but she had never considered it would happen to her.
It dawned on her that she didn't know what would happen if you died twice. Did you get special treatment in heaven? Was there a heaven? There had to be a God, because exorcism worked, but that didn't mean He gave two hoots about what happened to anyone after they died. An even more horrifying thought occurred to her - what if there was a heaven, but she wasn't allowed in it? As one of the cowboy robots raised a gun to point to her head, she decided that whatever was ahead of her, she would just have to deal with it. She'd been improvising for most of her life, and most of her death, too. She smiled quietly. She was ready.
BANG.
Re: Mini-Grand 5102 [Round 3: Rome, 2020] - Pinary - 09-25-2011
Originally posted on MSPA by Pinary.
"Well shucks, guess it's time to move y'all right along."
Miecz and Rome vanished, hung in nothingness for a moment, then landed again, this time in front of a massive, cheering crowd.
"Welcome to the 2020 Summer Olympics, held in good ol' Roma! Athletes from all 'round the globe are gathered here to show off their skills and represent their country. 'Course, now you're here, things're a mite disturbed, and security's likely t'be comin' down on y'all pretty quick. Good luck!"
Re: Mini-Grand 5102 [Round 3: Rome, 2020] - GBCE - 09-25-2011
Originally posted on MSPA by Pharmacy.
Rome –known as the capital of Italy, a place of rich history, countless cultures, and of course, sports. In this glorious year, this prestigiously reputed spot has the honor of hosting the 2020’s Olympics, which thankfully was today. Of course, the seats were rapidly taken up and the tickets for the front (and the remaining) seats were awfully expensive, but hey, Olympics! On this very day, every country set aside their differences and participates in this grand display sportsmanship in order to promote peace and egalitarianism between each of the existing nations.
Too bad this was stage for a particular brawl.
Now in this very early morning, the skies were misty and a wet sleepy mist condensed on this city. As the white sun brightly smiled on the stadium (no doubt, billions of Euros spent on furnishing this place), the contestants and the audience paid no heed to the tedium of the wet sunrise and the noticeable haze. This was the beginning of Olympics. Time and weather would not stop this glorious day! Men and women participating in this international drama as they wait for the first event: women’s hurdles! Everyone loves women’s hurdles.
Happy cheering echoed from the seats as the contestants grouped on the starting line. Little spheres flew close to the starting action, their comically miniscule helicopter blades rapidly providing lift. These ergonomic flying objects are actually cameras, bolstered with rudimentary artificial intelligence and the latest technology. Their purpose is simple: to get the highest definition of important events, such as right now. The crowd erupted in deafening applause (and a smattering of honking from vuvuzeulas) as the contestant entered the track field.
"Wonderful weather today," an upbeat newscaster voice chirped. "Well then, today is the beginning of the 2020 Olympiad, the thirty-second series of this grand tradition. Things are a little wet, but a little damp never hurt the contestants! Interestingly enough, the first event up will be Women’s 100 meter hurdles. Now…"
The commentators began to drone on about the contestants - their histories, their experiences, and their aspirations. However, the crowd and the watchers with their televisions mostly pushed how Louisa Rina of United Kingdom was attempting to defend gold or how Sally Mackenzie of Australia was recovering from a knee injury. The viewers wanted competition – wanted action, so it was no surprise that the roaring of the crowd halted as the women of this competition loosened their muscles with stretching exercises and made their way to the starting line.
Silence dominated the stadium; the quiet was almost tangible, save for the almost indiscernible sound of the whirring from the flying cameras. The women leaned into their starting positions, condensed beads of nervousness and determination rolling off their faces. As their mindsets automatically locked into game mode, hammered on by Spartan training from their respective nations, the contestants awaited the referee. He grimly lifted his hand, pistol lifted high above the air and –
"Goodness, what is this?"
A streak of navy-blue bolted between the surprised competitors, altering clusters of gasps and screams from the crowd. Of course, the unusual phenomenon did not last very long as the indiscernible blur soon collided with the wooden hurdles set on the track field. As soon as the viewers managed to figure out who was tangled between the artificial obstacles, the crowd began to scream even louder.
"Well, um," The commentator stammered. "This is certainly interesting. How did that thing get there in the first place? What is that thing anyway? Some sort of human…thing? What the hell is going on? What the hell is going on?"
***
Miecz was not exactly happy at his situation. He was tangled, tired, and in a really bad mood. Not only that, he was freaking tired. His jaw was split all the way, a pool of sticky spit pooling from his cheeks as his tongued darted back and forth, desperate for oxygen. The swordmonster was honestly tired of this shit. He kind of reached his threshold. He really did not want to fight anymore. He wanted to live and do normal things, well normal for his situation anyway.
Needless to say, his situation was definitely not normal. Metal spheres darted around him, whirring loudly in his ears. They were annoying him. The crowd was annoying him. They were so loud and he was so defenseless. Miecz hated being defenseless. Defenseless creatures tend to get killed and he definitely did not want to get killed. He definitely thought his death was for certain when he could hear walking in the distance. He was definitely going to die. Yep, he was.
People were hovering above him. Miecz did not want to move; moving tends to encourage people to strike. However, the people peering condescendingly on them – they look like those uniformed people from the first round, expect they were skinnier and there were a lot more of them. So, was this how he was going to die, trussed up in this confounding wooden stands at the hands of such unworthy opponents? This was a truly inglorious death for him, but he willing to accept that. After all, he did that particular brash act of murdering his leader in a fit of rage. Perhaps, this so-called karma was biting him in the ass…
The waft of rust alerted him and his regrets were abruptly replaced with panic. As typical of his kind, Miecz has no fears, but there was this definite danger behind him! Billows of choking rust were noticeable in the distance and he was really flipping out. Struggling with the hurdles, Miecz splintered the wooden beams with his sheer strength (and panic). At the surprise of the uniformed men, the swordmonster bolted away on fours, knocking over a few more obstacles in the process.
"Well, interesting all right, but - the hell? Apparently there is some sort of [color=#933E19]deer…dragon…thing…oh god"</font>