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**Schazer** · 10-19-2009, 01:24 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.

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Robust Laser · 10-19-2009, 01:29 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by cyber95.

"Well this here is starting to get a bit confusing, with so much going on. Hm.. perhaps something fitting for this..."

Once again, the world reshaped around them, moving the contestants to seperate places, changing what was once there into somthing completely different.
The contestants were again in a new world, and this time, most of them were quickly disoriented. Angles seemed non-static, gravity went everywhere. The world itself... was absolutely impossible.
The Observer made another announcement.
"This wonderful land was inspired by my favourite artist! Up is down, left is right, and perspective is key! If something looks like it should work from one point of view, it probably will! If something seems impossible, it probably also is, but odds are it will work anyway. Try not to get motion sickness! It's rather easy to do so when your sense of reality is warped." He chuckled, and his voice ceased.

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GBCE · 10-19-2009, 01:31 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Opirian.

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Dragon Fogel · 10-19-2009, 01:51 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Dragon Fogel.

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Robust Laser · 10-19-2009, 01:55 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by cyber95.

Dragon Fogel Wrote:

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SpoilerActually, we're supposed to have an Escher-esque area coming up in GB1, as part of Pop-Up Land...

I suggest we take advantage of the similarity, especially given the nature of the setting. Imply that the two groups of combatants are on the same battlefield at the same time, but completely missing each other due to the strange geometry.

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SleepingOrange · 10-19-2009, 02:29 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by SleepingOrange.

A pile of boxes was at the top of a flight of stairs; the top box fell off the stack and rolled down the stairs, despite the fact that the stair were upside down. Upon reaching the base, he box slid to a stop, then sprang up in the air. Halfway into the arc, its trajectory changed, and it sped towards another set of stairs, and rolled down them Sideways.

A creature with perception like a schrotgolem's didn't have a problem with selective gravity; it could probably use that against creatures that did. The boxes regrouped, save for the marionette; while the crates stayed stacked and still, the puppet danced off, weaving through stairs and doors. As it frolicked down a hall, a bipedal shape moved after it, apparently unnoticed.

**Schazer** · 10-19-2009, 02:33 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.

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Oh and reserved.

GBCE · 10-19-2009, 02:46 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Opirian.

Well if this place isn't a headache, I think I preferred the death trap, Galus thought as he walked along what was seemingly the wall in this area, If I treat it like space jumping without actually having the magnetic boots this should be a piece of cake. Thought after thought of combat situations went through his mind as he looked around the building he was in, observing its twisted reality, looking around he found a ball and picked it up. So if I'm thinking right, the thought trailed off as Galus threw the ball at the opposite wall, the ball than began to bounce back and forth gravity switching on it every time it passed through the the middle of the room till it eventually ran out of energy and came to a stop rolling around the opposite wall.

Galus nodded in approval before walking to the door that was in the wall, he then jumped through where suddenly gravity decided to pull him at 90 degrees. Predicting this outcome he righted him self in midair and landed feet first on the ground, Just like colony training.

**Schazer** · 10-19-2009, 03:03 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.

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Vyrm'n dreamed.
The chunks of metal, Cabaret's last will and testament, kept it that way; their screams too much for the Faceless' consciousness to bear the thought of returning to its body.

Through the "top"most doorway of the chamber of impossible stairs, the courtyard extended out to overlook a pretty, though impossible fountain. The water climbed, cheerfully ignorant of the laws of gravity, before plummeting to the bottom and being pumped upward again.

The shadow still lay in a pool of water, though no longer atop a gaudy canvas catching rain. Instead, the prone form had materialised in this watermill of sorts. Its long, fluid shape reclined in the channel; in its semifluid state getting pumped upward in defiance of commonsense physics, along with the water.

Several moments later, Vyrm'n reached the top of the pump, and slithered down in a surprisingly neat movement, keeping its form cohesive so no darkness splashed out on the stone pavement (though some water was displaced by the Faceless).

The fluid darkness completed one neat circuit of the mill which served to allow the water to execute this impossible climb, emerging and beginning its upward journey again.

Some energy in the mill tickled against the black countenance, and triggered something in the shadow. The void, which presently had lain inactive and unbidden, suddenly swirled out gently to Vyrm'n's exterior, reaching out to the water the Faceless swirled about in. Finding no sentience to snuff out, the void retreated for a moment, before trying a different tack.
Reaching out slightly more forcibly this time, the emptiness seized upon less than a drop of water and let its constituent molecules sing out their song; and keep singing it, until its atomic voice cracked and the droplet of water could sing no more.

The turgid forces in the current snatched the droplet in question from the void's contact, but the damage had been done. Along with the sinuous length of Faceless which took up the fountain, a single, disconnected black drop flowed impossibly up and down also.

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**Schazer** · 10-19-2009, 04:53 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.

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---

"Very good, Vyrm'n."

A black, star-studded arm reached for some sort of panel on the nearest wall. The panel looked organic in composition; if the hand had nerves it would've felt squashy and pulpy to the touch. A harsh, robotic voice replied to the cultured, clipped one which had preceded it.

"MAY I KILL HIM NOW?"

"Hmm... Yes. But if you can-" -the speaker's voice was cut off by crunching, squelching, and agonized screams filling the Faceless' chamber- "-I would have appreciated you letting me watch your thoughts while you did it."The disembodied voice sighed. "Never mind. The door's unlocked, Vyrm'n."

The Faceless studied its latest victim expressionlessly. If it had asked, Vyrm'n could've been informed by the researcher that this man had been especially chosen for this study, his reward for being on the wrong side of galactic law for over twenty years.
But Vyrm'n already knew all that, and frankly didn't care. The Faceless turned, knowing and not caring that next time it entered the test chamber, this body would be gone, the chamber cleared of its song, like the rest of them.

Reaching out to touch a now-green airlock button, the Faceless slithered through the doorway to be greeted by the Researcher. He certainly looked the part, with the labcoat and the square-rimmed glasses and the scribble-infested notebook.
Slightly deviating from the theme, however, was the armoured, airlocked, full-body suit he wore beneath the coat; the quick-action full-face helmet (though that was currently down); and the cold, slightly manic glint to his grey eyes.

Of course, Vyrm'n found none of these out of the ordinary. It almost automatically reached out to make contact with a shadowed arm, but the Researcher offered no contact.
He then acquised, and removed a glove with a snap of buckles, reaching out to the Faceless.

Have you discovered anything useful? That was the twelth man in as half as many days.

The researcher chose not to reply telepathically, instead talking to a region of the hulking shadow that could possibly approximate its face.

"As a matter of fact, I think I have." He smiled as he said it, genuinely excited about this discovery that had cost twelve lives. "Come with me, Vyrm'n."

The pair walked down the deserted corridor which went round the back of the testing chamber, to the state-of-the-art data room which was loaded with the latest number-crunching technology. Vyrm'n was bidden to wait outside while the man went and gathered his materials.

He then led the Faceless into another testing chamber, this one much smaller and equipped with a wider array of sensors and detectors. Various scanners and probes emerged and latched upon the starry bulk; Vyrm'n shrugged off the first couple before giving up and let them crawl all over the dark surface, measuring, timing, watching, analysing.

The Researcher appeared behind a thick glass window, checking all the recording apparatus was in order. He tapped a microphone experimentally, before beginning:

"Ok then. Now, remember when we discovered you can work your way through even the slimmest of spaces, given enough time?"
Vyrm'n made no response, not wanting to think about the time they found that out purely by accident. It had not been pleasant.
"Well, we managed to find some traces of you, so we ran some tests on the matter when it's not a constituent part of you. The results were... fascinating. And, you may be interested to know, utterly inconsistent with various other sample of Faceless we've procured.

It seems once you abandon it, it quickly... degenerates, if you will, into simple universal matter. If it's like you describe it, like song, it's like it starts singing along.

Of course, what I'd kill for now is a wildform sample of Faceless, but there's no way we can get that, now really, is there?" The Researcher chuckled."Anyway, one of the most interesting things was... your matter resembles nothing else in the universe. It's almost a complete inversion of classical atomic models." He couldn't have been more excited. Vyrm'n couldn't have looked less interested, though there was nothing saying it had to. Despite that, the Faceless was listening intently.

"My conclusion is, Vyrm'n, that while the matter in our universe is structured to 'sing', yours is structured to 'listen'. I just love how it's so paradoxical yet logical, don't you?

Anyway, that's all I wanted to tell you today."The man pressed some buttons, and the various probes and sensors retreated, leaving the Faceless alone in the scan chamber. The door opened again.

"Your rest-pod's open when you need it."

Vyrm'n stood alone for a moment, listening to the Researcher's receding footsteps and the swish of an airlock closing behind him. The Faceless departed the chamber, walking past the already sealed door to the Researcher's Observation Room and curling up in the cosy pod. Several moments later, the door sealed, and gravity suddenly disengaged in the Faceless' nest as the air rushed out of it and Vrm'n dozed, content as a Faceless could be, in its matterless bed.

Sruixan · 10-19-2009, 11:57 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Sruixan.

Maxwell had come to the conclusion that he was never going to get used to the switches between worlds. Thankfully, he reasoned, he probably wasn't going to have to put up with many more.

"This wonderful land was inspired by my favourite artist! Up is down, left is right, and perspective is key! If something looks like it should work from one point of view, it probably will! If something seems impossible, it probably also is, but odds are it will work anyway. Try not to get motion sickness! It's rather easy to do so when your sense of reality is warped."

Maxwell almost choked as he digested that announcement, but then immediately reprimanded himself for doing so. But even then, what were the odds? Still, considering that our Observer had a fair bit of power over the universe, the multiverse even...

...and indeed, this battlefield. Strokes on a page had become bricks in a wall, thus making this a pretty good example of the power The Observer held. Still... if you think about it just right...

"That ladder over there, that shouldn't be able to lean up against... ermm, what probably is the floor and that surface there, possibly the ceiling. It shouldn't be able to. But it is able to. So why bother attempting to tell myself anything otherwise? I mean... if I was to go up to that ladder and tell it that it shouldn't be able to do that, it wouldn't actually change anything - it would just make me look like some weirdo that talks to inanimate objects- oh..."

Maxwell shut himself up and, now that he was adjusted to the new environ, the most pressing issue on the agenda, searched his memory for the next biggest issue...

Ah. Vyrm'n. Where the hell was it and was it alright... it. How... distasteful. He was going to have to stop calling the Faceless it. It had a personality for goodness sake! A few moments later, Maxwell reached the conclusion that Vyrm'n was most like a she. The mood swings, the complete and utter impossibility of understanding... he chuckled slightly, discarded the last few seconds and motioned towards the ladder that he hoped went up. Well, hang on, there was no up... well, close enough to up then...

**Schazer** · 10-19-2009, 06:35 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.

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GBCE · 10-19-2009, 09:11 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Draykon.

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GBCE · 10-19-2009, 09:18 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Opirian.

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**Schazer** · 10-19-2009, 10:01 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.

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**Schazer** · 10-20-2009, 01:50 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.

A different point in time, the same dream.

Vyrm'n floated, isolated in its spherical chamber, when suddenly the gravity re-engaged and Vyrm'n fell with a thump, followed by a rush of staticky discharge as the generators required to maintain the little field of non-gravity failed and ground down with an electronic moan.

The Faceless was surprised; this had never occurred before. Punching the door button and getting no response, Vyrm'n alternated between thrashing ineffectually around the purpose-built cell, ramming into the door with little more success, and letting its mind wander while slumped on the floor.

Several hours later, Vyrm'n heard mechanical noises from the door, and slithered up. It sounded as though someone was manually trying to force the door open. Vyrm'n rammed into it in response; the noises stopped for several moments before starting up again.

Forming and reforming its shape impatiently, Vyrm'n eventually charged for the door when a final mechanism gave way, and slipped through the gap to find plasma rifle in its midsection. The Researcher, divested of his labcoat and now in a full bodysuit, with oxygen tank and helmet, almost pulled the trigger as the shadow flowed through the crack.

Avoiding that scenario, he lowered the gun and pressed a button on his suit, letting his crackled, distorted voice fill the corridor.

"Good to see you're safe, Vyrm'n. The main generators are down, the reserve has enough to send out a distress signal and maintain some life support, but it's not much. We might put a hold on testing for a week or so."

The Faceless padded ineffectually at the man, looking for a channel through which to speak. He shook his head, pointing at an organic wall panel which allowed Vyrm'n to articulate and indicating how it had shut down also. Motioning for the Faceless to follow, the Researcher led Vyrm'n into his private quarters, where he picked up a pen and paper before activating his comm unit again.

"Sorry, Vyrm'n, that's the best I can do. Your speakerpads are down, and I can't get a reading on the atmosphere..."

The Faceless ignored him while it examined the implements in a pair of star-flecked hands. The limbs knew how to hold these tools, but... when Vyrm'n attempted to maneuver the pen across the paper, the lack of muscle and bone and other structure beneath the black exterior became manifest in the form of illegible, jagged mockeries of letterforms.

The notepad fell, discarded, to the floor while Vyrm'n tried the pen on other surfaces. Satisfied with gouging the surface of a holoprojector screen, despite the Researcher's half-hearted protests, the Faceless clumsily wrote:

<I DONT LIKE THIS>

The Researcher shrugged, giving up the screen for lost and slumping in a chair. "I'm enjoying it about as much as you are."

Vyrm'n made a motion of thoughtfully tapping the pen on the extremely expensive "paper"; the rudeness of its pseudo-arms made the motion more like a repeated stabbing which made the Researcher wince with each punctuation. Finally, and with difficulty from the long message, carved out:

<THERE IS A> *taptaptap* <PARADOX IN MY BEING WHICH IRRITATES ME>

The Researcher made no reply, but sat up a little.

<THE KNOWLEDGE MOST FOREFRONT ACCORDING TO EVIDENCE IS THAT OF MY HOST> *taptaptap* <VYRM WHO IS DEAD> *taptaptap* <HOWEVER THE ONLY THOUGHTS OF HERS I FIND RELEVANT IS HER KNOWLEDGE OF FACELESS>

Vyrm'n gazed and turned sightlessly upon the Researcher. Behind his polarised helmet, he was grinning superciliously. With forcibly stab-punctuated writing, Vyrm'n concluded:

<WHY>

Sruixan · 10-20-2009, 12:32 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Sruixan.

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Maxwell grimaced. He was either halfway up or halfway down this ladder, he couldn't quite decide. After climbing a few rungs, he'd suddenly felt his stomach do a backflip and had found, to his confusion, that he was now climbing down onto what he had previously assumed to be the ceiling, rather than up towards it. Curiousity had of course prompted him to move up and down a rung several times and his digestive system was now getting him back for doing so.

Pulling himself together, he descended those last few rungs and stood, with a little difficulty, on what had earlier been the ceiling. Maxwell considered this for a few moments, then gave up. He was on the bloomin' ceiling and he wasn't falling - under the circumstances, that was actually quite a good result.

A few tentative steps later and things clicked into place. A few happy moments were spent frolicing around, failing to do cartwheels and stretching to touch the floor above him, before Maxwell progressed through a side door that was now more of an obstacle-course feature than an entranceway.

The first thing that struck him about his new surroundings was the colour - whereas the previous room had kept a farily tidy monochrome scheme, here there were tiles of countless blues, gleaming greens, splotch of yellow and red; simple, yet effective. Second to stand out were the tiles themselves; in the style of the artist, the floor... no, hang on, the acting floor was covered in tesselations, concerning subjects from all over the animal kingdoms.

Were the place the right way up, there would be a huge dome, the sort one might find in a cathedral or planetarium, covered in these patterns, to entertain the bored eye that would dart about the room in search of interest. For Maxwell, it was a bowl to circumnavigate, but one that could prove quite interesting...

With slight courage, he stepped off the flat and put his foot down on the bowl, quickly following with the other, before spiralling around the outer edge. As he did so, the rest of the room span with him, always keeping Maxwell as the central reference, so that the fish tiles appeared to swim, so that the birds flew, the lizards crawlled - it was marvellous, but a tad nauseating!

...the dome...

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

Maxwell swore that it was always the same seagull that sat perched on that tiny point in the roof above the door when he arrived. It always had that same rather defiant look in its eyes everytime he or Betty tried to scare it off - it never worked, but, hey, they tried, right?

Still, as he waited for the door to be answered, Maxwell couldn't help but glance around the well-kept rockeries that surrounded the observatory. Betty Saville wasn't just an astronomer, having once been quite a successful zephyrnaut, but he would never have thought she would have had green fingers. Mind you, she was getting on a bit now, so, well...

"Ah, Max! A pleasant surprise! Please, please, do come on in!"

Bless her. Maxwell ducked under the doorway and blinked a little as he adjusted to the lowered light, something which was rather important to do unless you wanted to trip as you navigated the knick-knack cluttered corridors that made up the place. Cottage, orrery, planetarium, observatory; popular with local schools as well as those interested in the heavens, and all kept by dear old Betty Saville. Bless her once more, for luck.

"And what do I owe this visit for, then?"
"Ah, well... Uncle Nick-"
"Ooh, ooh, that reminds me - when you go, do take this for your uncle, will you? He asked me for it last time he came up here and I forgot to give it to him..."

Maxwell relieved her of the burgundy tome, but didn't bother to check what it was about. There were more pressing matters to be heard.

"Yes, yes, now - Uncle Nick was talking to me today about space. Not about how the planets orbit, or how the sun works, or stuff like that. We were talking about life."

In the half-light, Maxwell could just about make out a grin forming on Betty's face. Yep...

"We talked about how there are so many stars out there, and how many must have planets around them, then on to the Goldilocks planets and so on... and I want to know... do we know of any that could support life? After all, there are so many people like you looking out there, curiousities piqued; we must have found at least one so far, surely?"
"Follow me..."

There was a little door in the kitchen, slightly crooked and due a coat of shiny new paint, that lead to another world. Or at least, the same world, but in perpetual dawn, night or dusk. The Planetarium at Damile was the biggest in the region and certainly the most comfortable, with quaint knitted cushions padding the velvet seats that let the occupants dream of the final frontier above them. The colossal dome onto which these dreams were projected had been built by Betty's late husband and had been the canvas on which the heavens were painted for a good fifty years, but no wear and tear was visible. Passionate hands had kept everything in tip-top shape, and would hopefully continue to do so for years to come...

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

...nine years later...

The dome that Maxwell currently occupied was also pristine, but not for the same reason. The Observer would of course want to make a perfect world for them to play in and it would be fabricated an instant before the arrival of the combatants - no time for dust to accumulate, for tiles to crack and fall, for plants to wither and die, for fountains to dry...

...until of course, all hell broke loose, and the battle butchered everything... Maxwell sighed...

**Schazer** · 10-21-2009, 04:52 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.

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**btp** · 10-21-2009, 04:59 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by bobthepen.

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SleepingOrange · 10-21-2009, 05:11 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by SleepingOrange.

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**Schazer** · 10-21-2009, 05:14 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.

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**Schazer** · 10-22-2009, 06:17 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.

Vyrm'n stabbed the pen in, so it lodged in the wall with a screen-depowering whine and crackle.

From where the Researcher sat, perspective compressed it into an emphatic full stop at the foot of the 'Y'. He grinned wider, and rose from his seat so he could place a finger upon the inky surface, letting the gloved digit slide slowly across a little nebula of stars.

"Now that would be, Vyrm'n... because..." He glanced up at the unfathomable darkness, seeming to take the time to carefully select his words. Finally, the Researcher settled on: "You're special. Even by Faceless standards, and I find you quite an exceptional bunch by most definitions."

Vyrm'n shifted away a little, so the finger traced through air. It didn't need to further vandalise the projector screen for the Researcher to know he should continue. Opening his palms beseechingly to Vyrm'n, and slowly pacing the room like he talked to an assembled crowd, the suited human intoned,
"Now, we've assembled enough anecdotal evidence to suggest Faceless only develop a sense of memory, and with it the power of recollection and self-awareness, when they hear its song from first contact with a sentient being." He turned to Vyrm'n. "In your case, my faithful-to-the-last assistant Vyrm.

Of course, not content with merely replicating tried and true experiments, I strove to break new ground with my research. It was most fortunate, then, that I had an assistant so willing to put-" the researcher tried and failed to hide a snigger at his own black joke "-her heart, and soul, into the project. Thanks to her, I acquired a specimen never before witnessed. A 'typed Faceless, with an already extensive knowledge of the workings of its kind."

Behind his helm, the Researcher grinned unceasingly as he gazed upon the pride of his life. Vyrm'n simply stood stock-still and listened; it was hard to pick up the tremulous twitches as they meandered through the thin air, but they got there eventually.

"It was anyone's guess what would happen next. Would the Faceless implode in a paradox of metacognition? Would it empower it to rediscover the abilities it lost during prototyping and immediately set off for the void it called home?
We had no idea, and it was terrifying and exciting, Vyrm'n. You had so many questions. This boundless hunger which could only be satiated with fact."

He sighed, unpleasant memory dredging itself up within him. "Then we ran out of answers, the tests we ran incapable of revealing any more about you, Vyrm'n. And you punished us for our ignorance." A dead laugh, a splash of cold comfort humour, gurgled from the speaker.

"Seven brave men and women scientists, Vyrm'n, not to mention their assistants and the crew, and you killed them all when you discovered a force in you not one of them could explain. Massacred. Ripped to shreds. Their cries for help still haunt me to this very day..."

The shadow moved imperceptibly; irritated at this divergence from the original question. The Researcher noticed, and snapped out of his reverie.

"Then, Vyrm'n, you chased me, hunted me down; tore down the bulletproof, laserproof, airlocked door and asked me that fateful question even as you engulfed me in darkness:

why do the dying sing the sweetest,Vyrm'n thought, in tandem with the man's words.
Seemingly worn out by his recital, the Researcher slumped gracefully back onto a seat, still grinning at his prize; raising an empty glass which had been resting on the table in a mock toast to the Faceless.

"Well, you heard my answer. And here we are now."

**btp** · 10-23-2009, 05:23 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by bobthepen.

Silently, the Karmist followed the dancing puppet as it meandered through the twisting corridors of this disorienting realm.

Fortune favored Samuel at the start of the round. He had worried about locating the schrotgolem upon entering this new world. Unlike the other contestants, whatever life Gestalt contained was imperceptible to karmic his divinations, and any encounter between the two relied solely on chance. Samuel had planned on taking a full look at the new world as he had done in the garden, but the selective gravity and puzzling architecture of this area were altogether unfamiliar. If not for a brief glance up at the ceiling, Samuel would have never spotted the frolicking marionette walking seemingly upside down in a passageway far above him.

He stumbled at first. From his current viewpoint, no obvious path led to the passageway above. A door stood in front of him, but he hardly liked the idea of wandering aimlessly though an unknown building. A flight of stairs stood affixed to the wall adjacent to the door. Samuel reasoned that he could make it to the top using the railing as a ladder. The Karmist clawed at the wall for a bit, hoping to gain the boost needed to grip the rail just inches out of reach. That plan failing, Samuel attempted to hoist himself up using the doorknob as a step. He did so, but upon leaning forward to reach the railing, his footing gave way and the Karmist fell face down on the brick tiled floor.

It was so damn frustrating. More and more this contest had shown the arrogant Karmist just how feeble he truly was. His plans had been foiled by beings he would dare not confront directly, he had received beatings from commonplace rubbish, even in his encounter with the swordsman he had no real means of attacking and had to dodge his assaults, and now he could not even climb a flight of stairs. Samuel gritted his teeth and slammed his fist into the ground below. This is all wrong. I am nearly a GOD in my own world, DOES THAT MEAN NOTHING HERE? These, these INSECTS should be cowering before me, yet instead they TAUNT me, or worse, TOLERATE me! And now, I am struggling like a CHILD to reach the one semblance of safety in this whole contest!

Samuel paused. He exhaled slowly and proceeded to pick himself up. of course you are. The words echoed within Samuel's mind. you've always relied on siphoning the strengths of others, never able to stand on your own, never able to rule by your own might. at heart you've always lacked the drive to continue, the motive to move forward. you're weak you..

â€œThat is enough!â€ Samuel shouted aloud. He glared at the stair case above him. With a reckless determination the Karmist ran towards the staircase, placed one foot on the wall in an attempt to run up it, and with a final stretch, placed one foot on the bottom step. He looked about. Samuel had expected to fall back down, having missed grabbing onto the railing, but instead he stood upright, the forces of gravity having inverted to work along the stairs.

The Karmist looked about, confused a bit by the sudden shift in gravity, but the pathway to Gestalt was now opened before him. He continued up the stairs toward the marionette.

GBCE · 10-25-2009, 10:23 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by snoomanwaff.

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**Schazer** · 11-01-2009, 04:42 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.

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Different time, same space. A rift of darkness tore through the complex, its lightless countenance the unfortunate end of every mortal who crossed its rampaging path.

The unsuited ones were lucky, in some ways, as if they had been stranded in the real darkness, the real cosmic emptiness; instead of this piece of it which flew through the corridors remorselessly harbringing swift death.

At least you died relatively painlessly, suitless - not an agonising extension dictated to mock your shred of existence while all the while tortuously extending it. If you had your suit on, you'd learn the unfortunate truth that this piece of space had teeth.

It was just one of those things Vyrm'n had learnt from Vyrm. Although this was an age of lasers and projectiles and biowarfare in lieu of swords and knives, there was still little more effective at tearing open an airtight suit than an atom-thin blade-edge.
Vyrm had known it as common sense, and so in turn did Vyrm'n. Now Assistant Sampling Technician Tobias Withers knew it also as the Faceless deftly slashed open his suit, peeling back the now-indiscernible layers of insulation and skin and ultralight-armour and ribcage searching for the answer.

But of course, he had no idea. He was just an Assistant Sampling Technician. He was incapable of even offering an inkling of a suggestion as to why nobody had ever heard of the void which swelled the Faceless, threatening to cast its fragile spark of sentience into the pitch where it would fade into nothing.

Panic swelled and redefined Vyrm'n's psyche, punctuating its identity's song with discordant cymbal-clashes of mental agony. As Tobias Withers, in his dying breath, wordlessly sang his life story to Vyrm'n and Vyrm'n alone, the shadow listened desperately for a cue, some addendum which it could find the solace of truth and certainty in.

If the matter which had comprised Tobias had known the answer, it refused to divulge it to Vyrm'n. Trembling with frustration, the Faceless' extended black arm extended further, right through his chest, and tossed the boy down the hallway. A scream punctuated Vyrm'n's thoughts, with a fluid rush it flowed through a gun-barrel-sized gap in a barricade and flooded Fay Cudgel, Chief of Research's quarters.

A bright bolt of plasma rifle greeted Vyrm'n as it entered, scorching a hole clean through the black. Without skipping a beat, the Faceless reached out almost reflexively and slapped the gun from Doctor Cudgel's shaking grip. The tentacle of darkness responsible then proceeded to slip sinuously round her neck, Vyrm'n lifting her a good four, five feet off the ground.

Jumbled, incoherent thought lanced up the limb into Angela's mind.
Whatsgoingonwhydoesn'tVyrmknowaboutthevoidI'mscare dItdoesntmakesenseandIjustwanttoknow-
If Fay was not extremely terrified for her life, she would've found the Faceless' thought processes thoroughly fascinating and the source of many more enjoyable years' research on the being. As it was, she was more preoccupied with grabbing a syringe of some description and stabbing it into the strangling limb.

Vyrm'n recoiled, stung; failing to understand how the scientist was incapable of understanding the Faceless' request. This time, Vyrm'n reached out more slowly, less violently; yet Fay still scrambled away into the furthest corner of the room as fast as she was able, desperate to escape from the shadow's clutches. The shadow reached out...

Fay involuntarily drew a breath as the Faceless made contact. In contrast to the rush of uncontrolled though which had assailed her earlier, the new force which lay beneath the star-speckled surface seemed so much more savage, uncaring, boundless, and empty than she ever could've imagined anything in the universe to be.

The song of her existence sang into the endlessness, the vast lack of anything which was punctuated only with the tiny, insignificant blooms of matter that were expanding universes. Her atomic voice chanted as stridently as it could into the emptiness, becoming thinner and tenuous as the insignificance of it to the whole became more and more apparent in Fay's dissipating soul. By the end of it, her eyes had seen the cradle and grave of a thousand universes, and they couldn't care less that this one human had watched it all.
In the face of such infinite disinterest, it was little wonder her matter was shamed into silence. With a silent cry, the atoms comprising Fay Cudgel let out one last half-hearted keen before falling silent. The woman's form collapsed into subatomic dust.

Vyrm'n, again, listened desperately for some titbit of information which would help its confused mind unravel the mystery of that awful, empty desolation. But whatever it was, Fay's remnants would sing no more. Still shivering with frustration, the Faceless tore apart the barricade and went soaring off in the next nearest source of sentient song.