The Savage Brawl [Round 5: Battletopia]

Originally posted on MSPA by Lankie.

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Dr. Anarchy mostly ignored Zirr. She was far too occupied with her gun, without it she'd be defenceless. She gave the on switch a few tentative tweaks as the power cell struggled to life. “Come on…come on!” Eventually the Death ray, rumbled to life, giving off the tell tale hum the doctor knew and love. “YES! Oh god I missed you baby! Now lets go kill stuff!” She pushed a few buttons and rocketeered across the lake, towards where the rest of the combatants were.

Zirr watched as Anarchy blatantly ignored his commands and flew off. He considered chasing her down, however she was merely a pawn, it wasn't like she could change anything either way.

[background=black:a82r0o0r]Meanwhile Calm edges closer and closer to the Hand of Silver, ready to strike, he paused to hear the distinct sound of a muffled explosion. It repeated again, this time with a heavy rumble of the cavern. Finally the wall to the side of the pair exploded violently as Anarchy's silhouette emerged from the dust.[/background:a82r0o0r]

“Huzzah!” she pointed her gun at Calm “Hey jerk! I want revenge for my god damn shoulder!” She opened fire, Calm dodged the initial blast of plasma but was launched away by the ensuring explosion from the wall behind him. He lands with a heavy thud, almost landing directly into some sharp stalagmites.

[background=silver:a82r0o0r]Hoss saw his chance and pumped whatever energy reserves he had into activating his gyroscopes, he launches at Anarchy, plunging his blade right into Anarchy's chest and sticking there.[/background:a82r0o0r]The doctor stumbles back lost for words, she quickly grimaces with anger and points her gun at point blank range at Hoss “JERK!” The point blank explosion launches Anarchy out of her newly made cave back into the open, while Hoss launches across the cave, smashing heavily into the stone wall.

Dr. Anarchy slowly got up, the explosion had caused even more injuries to her, including very deep cuts and burns. “Yeah bitch…can't take me down….I can take ANYTHING you throw at muurgh” She stumbles down to her knee, her injuries were more extensive than she first though.

…she knew more than anyone what was to come.

“Grr. THIS IS BULLSHIT!” She shouts to no one in particular “The one person with a GOD DAMN sense of humour has to die! The girl of 23 has to die, not the ancient death gods nooo” She breathes heavily, as blood pours out of her system. “This is so embarrassing…I expected to do a lot better than this…Well hell no! I ain't dying from some stupid flesh wound! I'm going in style! She emptied her backpack, pouring the contents out, not like it mattered anymore to her, she then found a small metallic blue cylinder. One of Dr. Anarchy's best creations: The Absolute Zero Bomb.

Calm climbs out of the newly formed cave, to see the heavily wounded Anarchy holding the device, she turns to him. “Hey! Your just in time for the fireworks!” She said with her usual insane grin, this time tears in her eyes. “Well I G-2-G…heh…just…try not to forget about me too soon…” She pulls the pin from the device as it starts beeping furiously. “Oh and by the way. You guys…need to CHILL OUT! BWAHAHAHHAHAAAAAH-“

There is a blinding light with no sound, the unknown force once again launches Calm back into the Cave, Ziir too is launched from his feet. The other competitors are shock to see an insane amount of light seep through the cracks of the cavern. The light fades away, the entire place had changed, the lakes had frozen over, a powerful cold had fallen across the entire place.

Where Dr. Anarchy was there was a huge Crystal of Ice, dominating the entire area.

And within that crystal, Anarchy stood. Frozen in time. Her wide smile plastered all over her face.

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SpoilerFun while it lasted guys but someones gotta die in round one!
Good luck to everyone else, you guys got some serious talent!
[img]images/smilies/pc_chummy.gif[/img]

Originally posted on MSPA by Knask.

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SpoilerCan I post something now?

Ok, I'll give it a try.

Btw, sorry for not posting in a while, you have all done great writing out Calm's acts, thank you.

[background=#000000:ynde4w9i]
Calm was in shock as he saw anarchy frozen in the ice crystal, now this battle had now taken it's first victim. He was not sure what to think. He thought he would be relived, happy that one contestant was down, but he wasn't. Instead he felt slightly angry, dissapointed, and not over Anarchy but over himself. What the flying fleshball had said was starting to sink into Calm's mind. The woman hadn't promised anything, she hadn't said anything at all about what was going oin. There was not greater purpose behind this, there was no prize, no reason. It was all just a show for this godlike womans entertainment. She was not better than the other gods, she was worse, and Calm had followed her words blindly. He was filled with regret for his acts, and a burning annoyance was slowly starting to fill up his mind.

The Cultivator was going to answer for what she had done.[/background:ynde4w9i]

Originally posted on MSPA by MalkyTop.

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The Underworld was now completely different from when the battle first started, startlingly so. Ice radiated out from the permanently frozen form of Dr. Anarchy, climbed up the walls, down the steps and over dead bodies, yet none of the contestants felt any of the severe cold they should have. The Afterlife gradually faded until everybody was surrounded by darkness.

"Wow! Wooooow! Really cool stuff!" The voice of the Cultivator echoed in the void, but there was no sign of the Cultivator herself. She hadn't even bothered to prevent any of the contestants from moving. After all, it wasn't like there was anywhere to run off to.

"Exciting! Ah, sorry, I'll bring up the next stage now~"

"Hey!" Calm shouted and was a little surprised to hear Gormand and even Ziir (didn't he used to not have a mouth...?) call out with him. But either the Cultivator was distracted and didn't hear or was deliberately ignoring them because the only response was another environment slowly fading in.

The new stage focused. It would have been a normal house. If everything wasn't so big.

"Now have you gotten small or has everything gotten big? If you're small, how're you seeing and hearing so well? And if everything's giant, then how come they're not subject to the square-cube law? Well, it doesn't matter! Welcome to a giant's house, where everyday objects are now almost unnegotiable obstacles! Physics are the least of your problems here! The giant's sleeping right now, but if you make enough noise, he just might wake uuuup~ And wouldn't that be interesting? Have fuuuun!"

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SpoilerSo yeah, I guess you can think Jack and the Beanstalk type thing. This house can be infested with rats or bugs or cats or what have you, go crazy.

And I have no doubt that by the end, you'll have waken up a very irritable giant.

Originally posted on MSPA by Dragon Fogel.

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The sudden wave of ice had caught Konka Rar completely by surprise. However, it had also given him time to prepare himself for the round transition. He would not be caught off guard this time.

He quickly looked around. He spotted Diego nearby, and Gormand behind him; it appeared the shift had left everyone in roughly the same relative positions. Diego was staring at a gigantic mousetrap, which had caught a mouse of similar size. The sheer size of the dead rodent seemed to disturb the wind mage; however, the cyborg lich saw it as an opportunity.

He walked over to Diego. "I suppose the God of the Underworld couldn't help after all." Konka Rar began chanting a spell. "Arise, servant! Your master commands you!"

The mouse, still caught in the trap, began lurching to life, shuffling around. Diego looked for a moment as if he was going to throw up.

"I suppose that trap is needlessly slowing it down," the lich mused. "What do you think? Should I try to free it, or simply decapitate it?"

Originally posted on MSPA by slipsicle.

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Hoss is kneeling on a cold stone floor, which has, quite suddenly, become a cold wooden floor. The frozen monument to a madwoman's desperation yet lingers in his vision, her smile turning ghostly as it fades away. Her blood still drips from his blade.

He stands, retracting the blade back into his left arm, and considers his surroundings, mentally cursing once more. This predicament is all to similar to how he began the last round, only this time he is heavily wounded.

Energy reserves critical. Newmatter fabricators nearly empty; just barely enough to repair the gashes in his artificial skin, and, for vanity's sake, clothing. And no reactionable material in sight.

Worse still, he is in a house, which is unlikely to have the radioactive isotopes he requires, unless...

Hoss considers the his oversized surroundings more closely. Konka Rar and Diego appear to be occupied with boulder-sized mouse. Gormand, squelching ball of meat that he is, has stopped halfway between Hoss and the mouse group. Calm is standing nearby, holding that particularly interesting hellknife of his. Ziirphael and Ekelhaft are nowhere to be seen. A giant-sized table with four equally proportioned chairs aligned on its sides is to the left, and is Hoss's destination.

As he approaches a leg of one of the chairs, Hoss readies his silver hand for a deep molecular analysis of its material. Data begins to flow through Hoss's system as he places his palm against the surface. The results please him.

Hoss removes his hand from the chair leg, and begins to make his way towards what he assumes must be a kitchen. Clothing repaired from the previous round's damage, gloved hands in his coat pockets, a familiar saunter creeping back into his steps, Hoss again reflects, though with better humor, on how similar this round is to the previous. Again heavily damaged. Again with low energy reserves. And again, headed towards the nearest source of water.

Originally posted on MSPA by MyifanW.

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Diego felt like screaming, for a moment. His carefully laid out plan had been erased in an instant as the playing field shifted. However that feeling subsided and was replaced by a nausea brought on by the fact that a giant, rancid rat corpse was splayed out in front of him. He covered his mouth, trying to stop the smell. It was the terrible smell of rotting, the smell of things wasting away- nothing like the fresh smell of blood, which announced life wherever the scent could be sensed.

Realizing his situation, he quickly reactivated his amplified hearing. The lich was approaching, the meatball and cyborg were nearby... The others had yet to move, and he could not sense them yet. Above all, though, he heard a loud, resonating breathing.

Suddenly, his mind was racing, grasping the information around him and recomposing his plan. He was idly aware of the lich attempting to make small talk and his ressurection of the rat, but Diego's mind was occupied. Allowing himself to naturally respond to the rancid smell would hopefully be enough to appease the Lich. A moment later, Diego's plan crystalized in his head- and now was the time to put it into action. Turning to the Lich, he gave a satisfactory answer to the question apparently asking about what to do about the trapped rat, then segwayed into the topic he needed to be in.

"I... I say you should free it. It seems a lttle absurd, trying to behead something so large... Damnit. Why did the stage have to change so soon? I was so close... I just needed to open the door."

Konka let out a small laugh.

"Did you really expect to get help so easily?" he said, slightly derisively.

Good, Diego thought, Konka responded. Now came th. Slightly tricky part- making what came next convincing. First, he recreated the voice program of the god of the underworld, and sent it upwards. Then, With his air abilities, he focused around the deep breathing. Being close enough would be fine... On that point, he wove his new magic program, and then began speaking.

"I... I don't know. But, no matter what, it's better than what the Cultivator offered us-"

The voice of Sedah boomed aloud, cutting Diego off. That detail was important. It gave a small impression that the god disregarded Diego's want to talk, potentially making their connection more tenuous.

"I see that none of you were able to help me, and instead felt the need to kill one another... But I'll attempt to help you, at least. Hopefully, I will be helped eventually in Return..."

The voice was fading now, but suddenly turned into a stream of unpronouncable sounds. Then, the voice returned to normal, fading quickly now.

"I think he should be awake enough, now... Good luck...."



"... What, what was he saying?" Diego commented, preparing to run the next program.

From the direction of the deep breathing, a new voice resonated for all to hear.

"... I am still here... Why have I woken!?! Who calls me? Oh. Oh... Another game of the Cultivator's, I see! But, I see she's become cocky... Putting the players so close that I could interact with them! Can you hear me? It's fine if you can't answer, I don't expect an answer. Just, come and get me out. I am stuck in this good for nothing loafer's brain, tied down by his imagination... Come to me, and destroy this man's brain! If you can do that, I'll give you something, anythig in return! ... Augh, I can feel it draining me again... I'm going to be sleeping again... Wake me up when this man is lobotomized."


The voice program ended. It was good, Diego thought- he had made the voice different in every way from the last one. However, now Diego was fairly tired. Such fine control, over such a long distance, was extremely draining. But, he needed to talk a little bit more, this time on his own.

"...I think I understand. These worlds... They are built around these... Gods. I suppose they are gods that the Cultivator somehow subdued... Also, this god was talking about another person... A man. There must be a giant man in this room, too..."

Diego trailed off, feeling he had said all that he needed to, and looked at Konka, waiting for a new response.

Originally posted on MSPA by SleepingOrange.

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The searing blast had been uncomfortable but not dangerous through Ekelhaft's preparations; the plugs held fast and so little of its surface area had been exposed anyway that even had they not, the worst would have been slight scorching. After the explosion, the slime had opted to give itself and its scout some time to ensure there were no aftereffects or delayed blasts from the spell: the sound of voices and commotion was just about to draw Ekelhaft Jr out of the burrow when a searing light burst forth, filtering through the plugs and forcing the ooze's myriad pupils to contract to pinpoints; lacking eyelids, it simply withdrew its eyes into its bulk. For a very brief moment, there was a sensation of cold; it faded quickly, along with the light. A tentative peek revealed that the world was fading with the light.

As the void subsumed the afterlife, Cultivator's voice filled Ekelhaft's mind; it allowed itself an internal grin as her dulcet tones wove their way through his consciousness, and doubtless the minds of the other competitors. The slime bubbled happily as it absorbed her words and thought more about the opportunity she had given it; clearly insane, obviously powerful... The ooze didn't respect her, but it certainly liked her. It was a foreign concept for a being created to destroy and sow chaos, but Ekelhaft couldn't help being grateful to someone who gave it purpose again, who pulled it off of that empty planet with nothing left to destroy but itself.

It collected its thoughts as the world finished solidifying. The main body looked around: it was dark, but not the same darkness as the void; eyes dilating, it scanned the area. There was... Wood. Huge planks, forming a narrow passage. There was a source of light a ways away, a semicircular hole leading to... Well, who knew? Ekelhaft pressed its bulk against the slats that formed the walls, slowly oozing through, hoping to get a view of where it was before revealing itself; it was slow going, but there was Ekelhaft Jr in the meantime.

The smaller blob swiveled its only eye. It looked like it was... On the bottom of a table? A colossal one, the grain of which suggested the trees it came from were skyscraper-scale. Still, the slime didn't have much time to waste on examining the furniture; someone was moving below it.

It saw the cyborg touching the leg of the table, but the table's skirt prevented it from seeing much more. It slithered across the underside as Hoss began moving away, sliding down the skirt then hooking into the wood with its teeth. From its new position, it had a better view, unobstructed by the table: it spotted the cyborg walking towards another room, the lich performing more necromancy on a giant rodent, and the meat and the scholar watching the ritual. Neither the faceless man nor the satanic one was readily visible, but it was still a good position to watch from.

Originally posted on MSPA by Dragon Fogel.

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"One moment," Konka said, ignoring Diego. He faced the mouse. "Be still, servant!" The mouse stopped moving, the trap falling back to the floor. It was almost as if the creature were dead again.

Konka Rar climbed up on the trap, and released the catch. The zombie mouse was freed. "You may move now." The mouse stood up, staring at its new master as it awaited further orders. Konka Rar jumped to the ground, and turned back to Diego.

"As for this god... frankly, I find myself questioning his competence. Perhaps you weren't paying attention, but the Cultivator said the giant was sleeping. It occurs to me that a loud, booming voice filling the entire house is quite likely to wake him up."

Diego looked nervous. He had been careful about that, controlling the air around the deep breathing in order to keep the noise down - but he couldn't tell the lich that. He considered saying something about how a god might be able to keep the giant from hearing anything, but that seemed uncomfortably close to explaining what he had actually done. He decided to respond as though he hadn't considered this.

"Oh... oh. Uh, but maybe the giant's a really sound sleeper?"

Konka Rar did not look amused at Diego's response. Meanwhile, Gormand made his way over to them, keeping a close eye on the rat.

"It doesn't get... hungry... does it?" the meatball asked.

"No. It only eats if I tell it to," Konka Rar replied.

Gormand found this marginally reassuring.

"I see," he said, acting as if the implied threat hadn't been implied at all. "Well, then..." His eyes turned towards a few crumbs of cheese left in the trap, which nonetheless were nearly his size. "Pardon me a moment, but I could use a meal."

Originally posted on MSPA by MyifanW.

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Damn, Diego thought. He hoped nobody would catch his error. In his haste, he had almost forgotten about waking the Giant, and had corrected it with a last minute muffling.

Now, Konka was getting more suspicious of him- that wasn't good. Diego cursed his failing. It had always been so easy to weasel into people's trust- but here, everything he tried was met with unadulterated doubt. He didn't even have time, time to ingratiate himself more fluidly...

No, Diego assured himself. He hadn't done anything wrong- the haste of his actions were required. All that could be done was accept the mistrust and operate regardless.

"I'm going to kill that giant, then."

Diego wore a dark expression, the grim face of a man who needed to kill but was unwilling. It was fake, but still convincing.

Diego turned to Konka. The lich was getting too suspicious- at any given moment, it seemed the lich would see through his game, and that would be the end of the legend of the Earworm Killer. Diego needed to get away from the walking corpse, closer to someone who would more easily trust, or at least believe him.

"I'll be going then."

Diego turned and ran towards the bed at the end of the room.

"Stop," the Lich predictibly called out. "I'll... Help you. Yes... I'll send this one with you."

The Lich gave Diego a toothy grin, and motioned with his head for the rat to go forward, to Diego. Uneasily, Diego watched thehulking rat as it came closer. Slowly, the dead rat leaned forward, as if to sniff Diego. Then, with suprising speed, it lunged and bit Diego's coat. Surprised, Diego struggled. Ignoring the man's plight, the Rat lifted Diego and tossed him onto it's back. Dazed, Diego shot a glare at Konka. The Lich smiled.

"Yes, ride the Rat. It will be a great deal faster that way..."

Originally posted on MSPA by Aryogaton.

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Spoiler>Diego: Humor the Lich. Be the Rider.

Originally posted on MSPA by Not The Author.

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Gormand stepped cautiously around the until-recently deceased rat to the blunt guillotine which held it captive only moments before. Despite the reputation towards mindlessness the undead are typically attributed with, this one had scampered well out of the way of its mechanical excecutioner. Gormand had similar doubts about the advisability of standing near a device designed expressly for the destruction of small (Ha!) animals, particularly the trigger mechanism. Of course, the mousetrap at hand was disabled for the moment, but the mere idea of death is known to be as worrisome as death itself.

Clambering atop what he might once have considered merely a foot hazard, Gormand inspected the leftover scraps of the rodent's last supper. The cheese was a bit stale, but that came as no surprise; it'd been sitting unprotected in the open air next to a corpse for who knew how long. He snatched up one of the smaller chunks, nearly the size of a book, and might've been surprised by the weight of it were he not already acquainted with oversized dairy products. "Here," he grunted, heaving the nub of cheese towards the now-mounted Earworm, "something for the road."

The thick lump of dried cheddar nearly knocked Diego from his steed. Righting himself, the aeromancer eyed his gift warily, but muttered a thanks regardless. Gormand hoisted a considerably larger crumbled block of cheese over his head and leapt from his perch, landing heavily (or lightly, depending on your perspective) upon the wooden floor. Rising, he broke a piece from a corner of his snack and threw it in a cavity in his side that hadn't been there seconds before, and wouldn't be there seconds later.

Gormand's eye swiveled in it's socket, scanning the room for exits, before he realized he was being discretely scrutinized by the necromancer. Breaking another piece from the hunk of cheese, he chucked it into another pseudomouth and blinked slowly. "You don't eat, do you?" Konka Rar, watching his newly-risen minion scamper off towrds the massive bed, shook his head. "More for me, then." The lich returned his gaze to Gormand, lack-of-brow decidedly not creasing. "Aren't you going to do something about that?"

One of the biggest problems with rapid regeneration, is wounds tend to heal over or around the object that caused them. This leads to a failure to recognize that there is anything stuck in the wound in the first place, which can be rather awkward at times.

This was one such time.

Gormand consumed another chunk of dairy. "Do something about what?"

Konka Rar's nonexistant eyebrow failed to rise. "That... stalagmite. In... in your... head?"

". . . Oh."

There was a sickly squelching as Gormand jiggled loose the offending spear of rock. He stared at it as though he'd never seen the like before. "Stalagtite, actually."

A bit of cheese went in the wound as it closed.

"How do you-" But Gormand was already plodding towards the nearest door, apparently following Hoss. "Hey!" The meatball glanced back at his undead companion. "Where there's rats, there's food, and where there's food, there too shall I be." Chowing down on another hunk of calcium, oil and fat, he resumed his original course. "I'm going to find the kitchen. You can come if you'd like."

Originally posted on MSPA by Knask.

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[background=#000000:kjdf6j6t]"Damnit", calm thought to himself. The cultivater had now taken them to a new place, and she had ignored him completely as he had tried to speak with her. Calm looked around at the others. The cyborg was at the table, Konka had awakened a rat from the dead, and now Diego was riding it. The sentient meatball was eating cheese, and the ooze and the god of death was not to be seen. Luckily the situation seemed stable at the moment, and no one seemed to have intentions of killing right now. Calm was not completely sure about the cyborg, but he was weakened, and didn't seem to make any trouble for the moment. Great, Calm would prefer it if no more died in this competition. The only one he wanted dead, was the cultivator, and for that to happen, he would need as many alive as possible.

So, what to do now? Calm had to find the Cultivator, or something connecting to her, something to get him closer to finding her. The most relevant he could think of, would be this other god, trapped in the giants head. Finding him could be dangerous, but it was the only clue Calm had for the moment. He ran towards the Diego and the rat, who were heading towards the giants bedroom.

"STOP!" he yelled.
the rat slowed down, looking back at him. Calm sprinted and jumped onto the back of the rat, sitting behind Diego.

"I'm coming with you"

Without looking at him, Diego grinned. Calm had gone straight into his trap.
[/background:kjdf6j6t]

Originally posted on MSPA by MyifanW.

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Then, he stopped grinning, realizing he didn't know what to do. If he killed Calm, what would happen? Was it even possible to pretend that he wasn't the one who did it? Diego ran over the possiblities, beofre stopping himself. He was thinking furher ahead than he should have- the further in the future his plans were, the more likely they would not have the chance to come to pass.

Instead, Diego needed to concentrate on here and now. How was he going to kill Calm in the first place? The answer was obvious enough, he would simply strike when Calm's back was turned. It wasn't a delicate method, and it didn't have the same, meticulous build up his other murders had- but it would be good enough. It had to be good enough, actually. If he failed, he'd undoubtedly be killed.

Diego shook off the negative thought. He wouldn't be killed, it simply would not happen- it would be too much of an anticlimax to his story, a story he had been creating for years. The Legend of the Earworm Killer. A legend that everyone knew. Legends did not simply die, they either died heroicly or of old age. Diego laughed to himself. He certainly wouldn't die heroicly... Still, he wasn't going to deluded himself entirely. Things did not happen simply because they were thematically appropriate. If he didn't do his job properly, concequences would follow. He had to be careful, and plan every detail surrounding the coming murder for the sake of the best possible result.

Diego quickly made a mental projection of the near future. He and Calm were alone... He was behind Calm... His knife dug into Calm's back, paralyzing him... Then, concentrating the air around his finger... Good. He could visualize his future clearly- the actual future could likely play out similarly. But, where? Where could he take Calm, such that they'd be truly alone, where his projection could take place? Ah, of course, Diego thought. The giant's earhole would be the perfect location.

Diego suddenly realized that he was smiling at himself, and quickly grabbed a chunk of cheese and occupied his mouth with it. Then, he waved another piece in front of Calm, and said "You want some?" Only, it didn't quite sound like that, as Diego's mouth was full. Still, it was small talk, which was good- any kind of interaction would allow Diego deeper into Calm's trust.

Originally posted on MSPA by Dragon Fogel.

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Konka Rar shrugged slightly, and followed Gormand. "I suppose I will come along. I have matters to discuss with you, and it seems I now have the time."

"What matters, precisely?" Gormand said, chewing off another chunk of cheese. Konka Rar idly wondered how the rules of etiquette would apply to talking with your mouth full when you didn't actually use a mouth to speak, but pushed the thought aside.

"This 'meat virus' of yours, which the Cultivator mentioned. I wish to know more about it."

"General curiosity, or towards some purpose?" Gormand shoved the last piece of the cheese into another mouth.

Konka Rar decided to get straight to the point. "Would it work on the slime creature, Ekelhaft?"

Originally posted on MSPA by slipsicle.

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Tentative reservation.

*Edit: Nope, just kidding, gonna have to do it later.

Originally posted on MSPA by Not The Author.

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SpoilerGormand doesn't actually speak with a mouth. The mouths he creates are only to facilitate digestion.

A food's senses are actually a form of limited, naturally occurring magic, considered to have been bestowed by their god. This has come under debate due to Gormand's artificial minions retaining these senses, but such an apparent flaw in the theory has been attributed to the Virus itself being partly the product of misued magic.

Ekelhaft - 'Avatar of Decay.' 'Destroyed everything.' Causes insanity by proximity. Acidic. 'Teeth and stuff.' Need more data.

"In a word?"

Gormand's eye lazily traversed his equatorial belt, limbs flowing around to fill the emptiness it it's wake. This somehow failed to affect his speech or movement. It nearly made a full orbit, but slid to a halt three-quarters of the way on it's journey, aligning with the skeletal sorcerer.

"Probably."

There was a short pause as Gormand collected his thoughts. Konka Rar, apparently unpreturbed by the aforementioned anatomical implausibility, took the opportunity to look skeptical.

"There's no reason not to believe it would work. The Virus has never failed before."

If he hadn't already slowly turned to face the necromancer, Gormand would've done so now. He made do with a dramatic pause.

"Not once."

Konka Rar's expression of disbelief merged, for a fraction of a second, with one of surprise, and perhaps a bit of worry. "Yet you have doubts?"

Despite lacking any form of respiratory system, the meatball sighed. "I take it you haven't noticed you're still a lich."

"I'm still a li...? Ah! You're afraid you'll go insane before Ekelhaft is... infected."

"Precisely." Gormand's eye began a second orbit of his waist. "There is a solution, but I'm not sure I'm suited to fight that thing in the first place." The foodbeast rubbed his chin; at least, where his chin would have been, had his eye not wandered off. "Can't strangle it, can't strike it effectively it, no structure to speak of. Touching it at all is probably a bad idea."

By this time, they were much closer the presumed kitchen door, if still not quite there. The pair of combatants had significantly closed the gap between themselves and Hoss as well, though they were still separated by at least a couple of 'regular-sized' paces. The undead rat and it's riders were but a speck in the distance, and Ziirphael and Ekelhaft were still out of sight. Most of us were underground during the transition, and we didn't seem to move much. Perhaps they are atop the table.

Once again, Gormand's vision came to rest upon Konka Rar. "I don't suppose you've had any luck with your magical or technological arts?"

There was a small space of hesitation before the lich answered. "...Less than I would like. It seems to... suppress magic somewhat." His vaguely downcast expression brightened a little. "Lasers seem to work, though."

The meatball swiveled , gazing at the heavily clad mechanical man ahead. "Perhaps he will be of some help, then."

His one eye narrowed. "This time, at least."

Originally posted on MSPA by Dragon Fogel.

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SpoilerPrevious post edited.

Konka Rar held his bony right hand up to his chin as he eyed Hoss warily. Gormand had a point - this pure cyborg clearly possessed technology more advanced than his own, and could most likely aid in Ekelhaft's destruction.

But, they had clashed in the previous round. And Konka Rar had not been pleased about dragging himself out of the lake. He was naturally wary about siding with a past enemy - and there was a strong chance that Hoss shared his caution.

Nonetheless, Ekelhaft had already demonstrated that it was a clear threat, and it seemed less likely to be open to negotiation. Besides, Hoss was down an ally now - and save for Ekelhaft, all other contestants had either aligned themselves (at least superficially) with Konka Rar or directly attacked Hoss.

At the moment, the Hand of Silver was in a position of weakness, and Rar was in a position of strength. What more could he ask for in entering negotiations?

He lowered his hand, and turned towards Gormand.

"Yes, I believe that avenue of inquiry is worth pursuing," Konka Rar agreed. He and Gormand began walking towards Hoss.

Originally posted on MSPA by slipsicle.

---

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SpoilerGonna have to do some quick catch-up]

As he nears the base of the gigantic kitchen sink, the god's voice rolls through Hand of Silver's aural receptors. Another round, another god, another plea. Hoss reflects upon the strong human themes this "contest" has taken up. The first round, the "afterlife", a particularly mammalian concept, specific to humanity (through his millions of years of existence, Hoss has run models of how alien intelligences may have evolved, in case he ever encountered any, and as such has a good idea as to the specific qualities which are inherent to a species which followed humanity's evolutionary path). The second round, a house, seemingly conforming to the Atomic era of the humanity of his universe. Gods, higher powers, demanding things of the more "lowly" entities for vague promises of "reward", yet offering no proof they might follow through; while limited to mere mental constructs in his universe, these gods appear to be real, here. The scent of human influence appears to have infiltrated all corners of the multiverse, with limited exceptions: Gormand and Ekelhaft. While Ziirphael and Calm are not human per se, they are humanoid in appearance, and appear to think like humans.

And then there is the Cultivator. She appeared in a human form. The idea of a contest of life and death, also human. She mentioned other such contests, likely hosted by other such beings.

The seed of human greatness appears not to be limited to the single strata of existence from which the condensed essence of the human race that is Hoss sprung forth, but instead has pierced through to other universes, its branches inexorably reaching into every facet of all that exists...

"...corrupt! They're all corrupt! They're leading this country into the pits just to satisfy their own corrupt needs! This doesn't make you angry? You don't want to fight it?!"

An obviously agitated young man beseeches his companion on a sidewalk. The two are walking through a busy, metropolitan area, surrounded by an eclectic yet completely oblivious crowd. The hour is growing late, and a nebulous haze of artificial light hangs over the buildings. A slight breeze dances through the windswept, wild hair of the (so far silent) companion, blue eyes narrowed in thought.

"No."

Consternation passes over the other man's face.

"What do you mean 'no'?!"

"I mean no, I do not want to fight them. You cannot fight human nature. Yes, they are greedy, yes they are corrupt, and there is nothing we can do about it. We cannot change them. Therefore, we must embrace their natural behavior; accept it, use their greed to achieve our own ends."

The other man makes a dismissive gesture.

"But that's just as bad! All the problems our country is having, all the bad things going on, they're because people think like that! They think, like, how can this person benefit me? How can I use them to get what I want? We can't live like that! We have to work in harmony with each other, with everything!"

"Yes."

Frustration. The other man feels he is being toyed with, condescended to.

"Goddamnit make up your mind! You just disagreed with what you said before!"

"No."

The increasingly agitated man stops, whirling to confront the source of his frustration. His companion moves to face him, turning his ocean-deep eyes upon the young man, bringing them to bear against the anger now radiating from his, previously merely agitated, walking partner. The other man suddenly finds himself unable to speak, pinned by the power of personality emanating from those cerulean depths.

"I'll lay it out for you. All these things you have described; the greed, the corruption, the yearning for peace and harmony, the willingness to use others to achieve one's goals... they are all intrinsic to being human. I cannot change your view of the world, your goals in life, just as you cannot change mine, nor can you change those whom you wish to fight against. We must accept the behavior of others as something which is immutable. There are traits which we all carry, some more than others, which are relics of our evolutionary past; some may view these relics as harmful, as dangerous evolutionary baggage. Others, like myself, simply see them as something we must work with."

The wild-haired man brings up his arms, gesturing to the activity around him, to the high-rise buildings and bustling traffic.

"We are surrounded by the evidence of our greatness. All that we as a species have achieved has not been in spite of what you see as "flaws", but because of them. We, as a species, are perfect. We could not be so without those qualities which you despise; they have helped to drive us forward, constantly. Certainly there have been temporary setbacks; the sacking of the Library of Alexandria to name one. Yet even that bore fruit to long-term improvements. If the Ionians had risen to technological superiority, slave trade would still be an accepted practice. I'm not against slavery, as I view that quality as yet another inevitability of our species which may find its place again, but its absence was necessary for this society to arise, and for the technological marvels which you see around you to become reality."

Those impenetrable blue eyes remove themselves from the other man's focus, releasing him from his companion's silencing charisma. They are instead pointed down a nearby street. It runs down a hill, providing an opening in the steel jungle around them. Through the towering testaments to human dominion can be seen a bejeweled darkness. It is too low, too dense, and too bright to be the twinkling pinpricks of stars. It is, instead, the kaleidoscopic effusion of thousands of buildings, streetlights and cars, layering a massive hillside. It is an artificial galaxy on the horizon, backdropping the oblivious pedestrians which hurry across the street.

The wild-haired man continues, "We have erected around us the proof of our ability to bend nature to our will, and we can only do so because we have, at many points in our past, succumbed to the totality of our humanity; the good, and the bad. And what we have created is beautiful."

The man who will soon be known as Hand of Silver stares out at the vision before him, yet he sees more than mere cityscape. What arrays itself before him is a goal, a feature currently lacking in his incomplete Billion Year Plan. He sees a future where the pride of Homo Sapiens Sapiens is omnipresent in the universe.

As Hoss pulls out of his ruminations, another piece of the puzzle reveals itself. He does not know where it goes, but its existence has been made obvious: Humanity is key. He must yet gather more data if he is to complete his new plan. Data which just happens to be approaching in the form of a skeleton and a meatball...

Originally posted on MSPA by slipsicle.

---

Hoss has reached the base of the sink. Heinously large cabinets and drawers reach upwards, providing climbing surfaces to reach his goal. He is tempted to simply abandon the approaching pair and tend to his diminishing power reserves immediately. He must reach a decision quickly.

He turns to face the skeleton and meatball. Of the surviving contestants, Hoss considers their motivations to be the most complex. Ziirphael, a "god of death", cannot possibly think beyond his given station. Calm likewise has demonstrated only a willingness to comply with what circumstances dictate of him: kill the contestants, free the god, etc. Diego appears to be obsessed with freeing these trapped deities; again, a short-term viewpoint. Ekelhaft... Hoss is not even sure Ekelhaft is capable of having goals.

Gormand and Konka Rar, however, are far more interesting candidates. Their overall intentions have not yet been made clear, and what with Konka Rar apparently having created the contestant in another of these "battles", there is also an obvious motivation which is secondary to this contest's stated goal.

Add to these facts an apparent willingness to make contact with him, Hoss is convinced that he must initiate immediate dialogue with the two. A decision is reached.

He spreads his arms in a peaceful gesture, left hand glistening in the artificial light.

"Salutations to the both of you. As you can see, I have... calmed down a bit from our previous encounters. I am pleased to see you yet favor peaceful contact in spite of past grievances."

Konka Rar raises a hand. He will not let Hoss achieve a higher position in these negotiations, and must take control.

"Hold, cyborg! We understand you were under Ekelhaft's influence before. Your glibness is unnecessary. However, I have not forgiven you for your first unprovoked attack upon myself. Whatever benefit it gave you in dealing with that naive young woman is moot, as she has perished and I have not. You and I will deal with this another time, as at the moment we have more pressing issues, and we would make of you an inquiry."

Hoss brings up his less-modified right hand, attempting to placate. "Acknowledged. But before you continue..." head cocked slightly to the right, "... I propose a trade. You require something of me, and I require something of you," both hands down now, chin raised, chest outwards, a slightly more dominant pose, "I will agree, this instant, to whatever it is you ask of me, provided I am allowed to ask whatever questions I will of either of you until I have met your needs. Is this acceptable?"

Originally posted on MSPA by Dragon Fogel.

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"You realize that you have no guarantee that we will answer you truthfully," Konka Rar observed. "And to make such an offer before we have even made our own request... It seems, as the saying goes, too good to be true."

"Your caution is quite understandable," Hoss replied, maintaining his confident posture. "So allow me to clarify. What I most desire from you both is information; and if we are cooperating, I believe it will be to your benefit if I have that information. I suppose what I am really asking for is the opportunity to convince you that it is to your benefit."

"That is more understandable," Rar noted, looking thoughtful. "I am naturally still wary, but the offer is favorable enough that I am inclined to accept." He looked at his meaty companion. "What do you think of the offer, Gormand?"

Originally posted on MSPA by Not The Author.

---

"What do you think of the offer, Gormand?"

"..."

"...You said 'trade.'"

Hoss looked curiously at the meatball, who was already doing the same to him.

"Warring nations do not trade."

The machine-man started to speak, but Gormand held up a limb. "Yet, trading nations do not war."

Hand of Silver crossed his arms. [background=silver:39rxl9ht]"An oversimplification of global affairs."[/background:39rxl9ht]

"A true one nevertheless." Gormand gave the impression of grinning impishly. "And I'm not entirely certain I could win a war at the moment."

Konka Rar stroked his chin. "So, we are in agreement?"

The meatball nodded, then abruptly laughed; more of a short, derisive bark than the rolling thunder of true merriment. "Of course, I think he'll run out of questions before my needs are met." Another snort, and more aggrivated muttering. "Assuming they can be..."

Hoss glanced at Konka Rar. The necromancer merely shrugged.

Gormand sighed, gaze shifting back to the cyborg. "I digress. Your terms are acceptable." Pity, that people require incentive to work together towards a shared goal...

Hoss had the distinct feeling the foodbeast was looking through him. But Gormand blinked, and the moment was gone. [background=silver:39rxl9ht]"...Alright then. What do you need?"[/background:39rxl9ht]

Originally posted on MSPA by slipsicle.

---

"...Alright then. What do you need?"

"Ekelhaft. Dead."

Hoss pauses for a moment, becoming still in a way nothing organic ever could. In an abrupt motion, he briefly touches his brow, as if to tentatively massage a mental wound.

"... and what makes you think I am best suited for this task?"

"It has demonstrated the futility of any close-range attacks, as, apparently, its mere proximity is enough to break minds. Which rules me out." Gormand wiggles a noodle, and one can almost make out a humorless smile forming in his meat.

Hoss shifts his attentions to the skeleton, though it is more sensed than seen, given the uniformity of his pupilless eyes.

"It also appears to suppress my not inconsiderable magical powers. Through my somewhat more extensive combat experience with the slime, I have observed its vulnerability to more mundane, technology-based attacks. Given your obvious mechanical inclinations, we have concluded you may be better suited to the task of its suppression."

Hoss snorts at the mention of "mechanical"; a purely artificial sound, delivered for the sole purpose of derision.

"After one billion years of constant self-improvement, I find the implication that I am merely mechanical to be somewhat insulting. But I take your meaning. I shall do as you ask."

Hoss does not mention that he, too, would prefer the destructive slime gone as well; he cannot risk another episode, and he cannot risk losing a sense of bargaining power in this discussion.

He glances upwards over his shoulder.

"... however, I must first ensure that I am able to comply. There is an exceptionally potent power source waiting for me at the top of this... mountain. Give me a few minutes once I reach the top. I shall return shortly."

As he turns his back on Konka Rar and Gormand, the lich moves to protest, but a thick arm of pasta stops him. Hoss begins his journey upwards, and when Konka Rar is convinced he is out of earshot, he speaks.

"I do not like the concept of him acquiring more power. He has already demonstrated a potent inclination towards carnage."

"Which is why we need him. I also have not yet seen him use any ranged attacks; perhaps he is currently unable, without access to that power source he mentioned. This will benefit us."

Konka Rar considers. True, the only ranged attack he has seen Hoss use was through his temporary thrall, and not from Hoss directly. Still...

"He will betray us."

"I know."

Gormand moves his single eye upwards; purely for superficial purposes of course, but the gesture is clear. Watch him closely.

Originally posted on MSPA by slipsicle.

---

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SpoilerOk so, I'm going to be doing the "one post every two days thing" just to make it seem like this topic is active. It's not to hurry anyone else along, though, it's just because I like to write. Mostly I'll just be fleshing out Hoss as a character, since I'm still not entirely sure of some things with him. I won't really be moving the story along much. Just a lot of flashbacks, sooorrrtt offf liikke this one!

Hoss climbs. Navigating a mountain-sized wooden cupboard is no mean feat, and Hoss pumps the last of his energy reserves into his synthetic muscles. There is no risk of power loss; he has calculated his energy use perfectly, and had already analyzed the "cliff" face for the most efficient path. His body follows a pre-programmed set of moves upwards, leaving Hoss some time to think.

Hoss yet retains a large portion of his original organic brain. The same brain that carried trillions upon trillions of humans through their comparatively short lives. The same brain that takes all humans on trips back through their lives, as they age and accumulate memories. And Hoss has a lot of memories...

...the young man is alone. He is alone in a dark room, lit by the harsh off-blue glow of a multitude of digital displays. He is alone in life, having pushed away any and all potential human contact. This self-imposed isolation is out of necessity, for what he is about to do would, under other circumstances, remove the fluidity he so enjoys in social strata. His blue eyes examine the code lining his displays once more, double-checking months of work which will, tonight, begin something he will be unable to stop.

Next to him lies a nondescript, tattered notebook. There are three letters on its cover: "B.Y.P." Inside lies the course of humanity for the next several hundred million years, though its existence is not yet known. It has only recently been completed. A sidewalk conversation months earlier gave him the goal; a night of unbridled rage and surrender to passion gave him the drive, and tonight he will lay down the groundwork for the mechanism.

He is on an online forum. It is difficult to find, and only has a handful of members. One can only gain entry through invitation. That, or the more nefarious methods the young man has just used. It is a forum of people will versed in the intricacies of that vast and ethereal entity which hovers over their planet, spectral in its presence, yet its influence can be felt in every aspect of life. It is quite the accomplishment, then, that this one man is able to infiltrate their sanctum. As he prepares to make his first post, he briefly sits back to consider a username. His blue eyes flick to the notebook beside him, recalling an entry only recently added. He smiles, and types "Hand of Silver"...

... A change in scenery brings the ancient cyborg back to the present, as he reaches the top of the wooden cliff. Before him lies the most innocuous of any household appliance, and also the key to his survival: a faucet.

Hoss climbs onto his feet and moves towards the source of nearly endless power.

Originally posted on MSPA by MyifanW.

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Elsewhere, the rat and it's riders neared their destination. Realizing that the rat would soon be climbing vertically, Diego and Calm held on tightly to its ragged fur. As if on cue, the Rat reached the edge of the giant's bed and scurried up the sheets.

Although prepared, Diego's grip simply wasn't strong enough. His heart fell as he felt himself slip, and time felt like it was still as he began to fall.

Suddenly, time caught up with him, as Calm caught his shirt. Relief flooded Diego, and he did his best to grip the rat again as the rodent leveled out on top of the bed.

Rolling off the side, Diego landed softly on the matress, trying to make his heartrate return to normal.

"Thanks," he gasped, breathlessly.

[background=black:363stu3f]
"You're welcome." Calm said flatly. He paused, looking over at the giant. Even at a distance, the man seemed huge. All Calm could see was the giant's greased hair. It smelled bad. He turned back to Diego. "Don't die just yet. I thought you said you wanted to get out? It would be a waste to die here." [/background:363stu3f]

"Yeah... You're right. I have things I still need to do, anyway..."

Diego turned away from Calm, worried that he was on to him. Calm's tone had been so flat, so certain, yet his words had been ambiguous. Was he serious about seeking the 'god,' or did he know the truth, and was just playing around?

Diego calmed down, as he realized the point was moot. It didn't matter which it was, as long as Calm followed him a little longer. Soon, it would be too late for Calm to realize he was absolutely his enemy...

Diego remembered that the rat was still there. He wanted nothing to do with it anymore, because it was possible the lich had some spying spell. And, to be frank, it unnerved him.

"Let's ditch the rat. It might be too noisy. We'll be quieter on foot, and it's not that far, now."

It really wasn't too far. That meant Diego would have to act soon. Mentally, he ran through his course of action. He'd get behind Calm, somehow. He'd form the drill quietly. He'd reach around Calm's neck with his off hand and simultaniously send the drill in. He repeated the method to himself over and over, projecting it as the future.

Originally posted on MSPA by Not The Author.

---

Gormand had a problem.

Well... He had several problems, but there was one pressing matter he would have to deal with soon. Namely, he wasn't nearly as large as he should be.

Gormand had been accompanied for the majority of this round by Konka Rar, who was not a stupid lich. And even if he were an imbicile, there was no conceivable way the necromancer, or anyone for that matter, could fail to notice his companion expand nearly a meter diametrically.

Which was (to flay the desceased equine) a problem.

Gormand had eaten about seventy centimeters worth of cheese, but had only grown three centimeters between leaving the mousetrap and the present, a rate of growth that would leave him feeling uncomfortably overcooked for at least an hour or so. The cheese hadn't even been that great a meal, since most of it would go toward the considerable volume lost during the scuffle at the end of the previous round. For the moment, he'd shifted most of the extra matter to his outer shell, which was typically thicker anyway, but his insides remained uncomfortably dense.

There were three immediately obvious solutions. The first, rapidly expand regardless of the attention it would attract, was tactically inadvisable, as it revealed one of his abilities that dispicable woman had failed to mention. The second, convert the excess matter into an additional organ, was inviable in that the only useful organ that he had the mass for and was hidden from prying eyes was a Viral Gland. Gormand was having enough trouble keeping the Virus off his companions as it was without churning out more of the stuff. Which left option three - his opponents had already been informed of this talent, and his allies wouldn't object much.

"Speaking of betrayal..."

Konka Rar looked away from the ascendant figure of Hoss. He was expecting Gormand's next line of inquiry to be centered on Calm and Diego. He was half-expecting Gormand to accuse him of some form of treachery or another.

He was not at all expecting three of Gormand's limbs to fall from his body and disintegrate into a pile of pink, sticky sludge.

The necromancer gazed on in morbid curiosity. A new trio of noodles had sprouted to replace those now decorating the floor, while Gormand simply appeared to be glaring at the heap of goo before him. Konka Rar was only marginally surprised when the slag lifted clear of the floor and formed a rough orb hanging in front of the meatball; less so when the one sphere split into six.

The pâté spheres split into a pair of threes: two smaller balls orbiting one larger ball. These stretched vertically into cylinders, then thinned sharply at the ends while widening in the middle. The end result looked vaguely like a bunch of rolling pins made of meat paste. But whatever Gormand was doing, it seemed he wasn't done. The tubes started taking on definition, forming into what appeared, at first, to be curious lumps on a stick. There was a sizzling noise, a pleasant smell, and the sticky pink shapes took on new texture and color. Konka Rar realized that "curious lumps on a stick" was practically the definition of what Gormand had made.

The entire process had taken approximately fifteen seconds.

Though he was fairly certain of the answer he would recieve, Konka Rar asked anyway.

"What are those?"

"Kabobs."

"I can see that."

Various cooked meats and vegetables impaled upon a pair of wooden sticks hovered a few inches off the ground, each orbited by two shorter, metalic, more sparsely garnished skewers. They appeared to be looking at Gormand, though how the lich arrived at such a conclusion was something he never quite understood.

Gormand, meanwhile, had almost made the error of instructing his units mentally. While it came more naturally to him, and was generally more convenient, it posed the same problem as suddenly growing considerably larger: it would raise questions he'd rather not have to answer. One of those questions would invariably be 'where are those things going,' anyway.

"You, assist Diego and Calm. They'll have arrived at the bed by now. You. Track down Ekelhaft. He's most likely somewhere around the living room table. If you find him, observe. Do not engage him in combat." He waved an arm, and his minions sped off on their missions. The meatball turned to his companion. "That should help us keep tabs on everyone. Now, if you'll excuse me..."

Gormand swept past Konka Rar, gaze firmly affixed to the pristine white monolith at the end of the kitchen. "...I have to figure out how to open a refrigerator the size of a small house."

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SpoilerBlurf. Explaining things always seems to take too long and be somewhat unnecessary. On the other hand, it means I won't have to do it again.



Yes I measure Gormand by his diameter even though mass doesn't translate exactly like that what's your point?

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SpoilerAlso.