The Grand Battle II! [Happy End!]

Originally posted on MSPA by Sruixan.

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SpoilerI had assumed, incorrectly, that half term would give me more time to write. How annoying that I couldn't, and then half the contestants got kidnapped... *sigh*

Without him really knowing, Maxwell's feet were enjoying a little dance with the animals immortalised in the tiled dome, while he himself was sat at its edge, deep in thought. Being carefree was a luxury the concious part of him didn't have.

Why had Cabaret given the mask to him? It was worryingly like the magician had been prefiguring his own demise, as if he'd known he wouldn't make it... it was a similar pessimism to the one that had Maxwell's stomach in knots at that very moment and that was a bit too much.

It didn't take too much thought to realise that the human competitors here were at a severe disadvantage to their slightly more abstract foes. For a start, Maxwell noted, whereas Vyrm'n and Gestalt were more like the playthings of an active imagination and thusly able to do things he couldn't rationally explain, he was stuck with his mind, his feet, his rapier and... the lump. Call it a lump, hiding under his coat. He didn't want to have to shoot anyone, with one exception and right now was not the time.

Secondly, now that he'd thought about his stomach, acknowledged its existance, it had a few bones to pick with him, mostly his spine and his ribcage to be exact. Time wasn't something overly easy to measure when you're darting from universe to universe, but it must have been about four hours or so since he'd been home. He could be over or underestimating, but still, sooner or later he was going to have to eat, drink, sleep (well, he'd had a nap earlier, but that didn't really count) and excrete (something he had admittedly already done, but that of course wouldn't be the last time!).

Galus Lee Matthews... now, he wasn't quite human, but he was pretty close. Samuel, well, he was really on the wrong side of human and was probably capable of sustaining himself with the lives of others. But what living organisms would there be in a world that had fun figuring out where the floor was? With two humanoids (now that's much better, isn't it?) down, well...

Two humanoids down... two opportunities squandered. He should have asked Cabaret when he'd given him the mask, but, well, he hadn't exactly been expecting it, had he? Paying attention when your mind wanders... but...

The subconcious is an odd little devil. Too smug to show off its prowess to the concious mind, it just pops in occasionally to poke you in the direction it wants you to go in, making sure to point out how it's a few steps ahead of you and then vanishing back to whence it came. Maxwell's was more than happy to point out at that moment that he had in fact looked up as the mask was thrust into his hands had he had indeed seen that Cabaret was carrying a few other wordly possessions, but had been too preoccupied with figuring out what on earth was happening to take too much notice. Well, his concious had been anyway. And in those slightly shaky hands, there was something that was eeirily familiar. A little tattered book...

After a brief pause for his body to regroup, Maxwell stood up. He had to find Galus pretty sharpish. As the only other approachable humanoid, he could do with being grilled as soon as possible...

Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.

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Spoiler

He didn't want to have to shoot anyone, with one exception and right now was not the time.

[img]images/smilies/mspa_reader.gif[/img]?

I thought my kidnapping wouldn't be that big a deal; this and BR are the only collabs that I'm anything resembling a parody of a big deal in. Plus this one had slowed down a bit, and Vyrm'n's technically out of commission until someone can extract all those annoying bits of fairground debris with surgical precision.

Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.

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Vyrm'n padded barefoot, kicking up the slurry of gunmetal water engorged with black sand raking up and down the shoreline, round Vyrm'n's feet; as she walked. Stooping down to grab a handful of identity-laden water, she cupped it in her hands and studied the fragments of memory it contained with all her senses.

After reliving the moment for a heartbeat or so, Vyrm'n released the memory back into the sea; where it scattered into droplets, and was lost amongst the whisper of recollections, as they swirled round her toes for less time than it took to think before being replaced with a new thought.

Vyrm'n slumped down on the silver-black sand, gazing up at the sun which hung like a paradoxical negative in the sky, blacker and emptier than the sea and shore; more like a hole punched from the fabric of the sky than a source of light. Its presence made Vyrm'n think. The beach was never this pleasant to linger on, the sun's rays usually burning and violent and hateful whenever Vyrm'n's mood took an introspective turn and she felt like lingering.

For introspection, this place was hard to beat; though the void the sun screamed resentfully down, all the time, at the conscious part of Vyrm'n whenever she attempted to find time here. It was probably one of the reasons she never got into self-analysis much.

In contrast to those times, though, today the sun had lost its rage - its energies seemed to be diverted elsewhere. And all it had taken for Vyrm'n's day at the beach was to wake up from the dreams and find herself lying on the black shore.

Leaning forward to trail her fingers in the swirling water, Vyrm'n on a whim focussed upon one of the scraps of memory. In response, similar, connected fragments converged at her hands; vying for Vym'n's attention. Choosing some and discarding others, more and more thoughts approached and departed as their relevance increased and was subsequently reduced.

Eventually, Vyrm'n had assembled all the little pieces of information to formulate a full memory - the first day of her life. Scooping it up uncertainly, the handful of black water seemed to possess a certain cohesiveness the earlier handful did not. Uncertain what to do with it, she tossed it on the black sand, which swiftly drunk it up. From the wet splodges rose an entire scene, resplendent with all the little details Vyrm'n had taken the time to dredge up. Despite this, it wasn't perfect; that transferring of memories was still extremely fuzzy, plus the abstractions used by the sand to create a solid replication of Vyrm'n's viewpoint through it left a lot to be desired.

Eventually, the scene started to run out of details, grains of sand starting to fall off faces, sounds becoming less distinct. Eventually, it all dried out and crumbled at Vyrm'n's feet.

That done, Vyrm'n decided to try something else. Returning to the water, this time she dredged across time, looking for all the fragments pertaining to a particular subject. It took a bit of concentration to keep out the irrelevant elements, like the sounds and scene at the time, but eventually something cohesive assembled in her cupped hands.

Padding away from the silent shore, Vyrm'n tossed her arms out, the recollections sparkling darkly through the air in a graceful arc as they hit the coal-dust sand.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then the sand began to twitch, and a figure lying face-down hauled himself up, studying his grey-black hands of pure sand with confusion. Eventually, he rose warily to his feet, and with an improbable click of a sand button lowered his helmet. The Urisian sensed the presence of Vyrm'n, and faster than Galus might have normally done pulled the rifle from his holster (all composed of the same black sand) and pointed it at Vyrm'n.

"State your name!" The woman replied without moving her mouth, instead the ocean behind her seem to rumble as her voice.

Vyrm'n. Galus shook his head, glaring, not believing her. He pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. It was a good parable for the importance of attention to detail - the rifle, composed of sand, had no working innards. Vyrm'n hadn't really seen the relevance of adding them to the memory.
I am Vyrm'n. This is the... manifestation. Of my... identity. She didn't seem to have a great idea, even in her own mind. Sand-Galus spent a few more fruitless moments trying to get his weapon to work, before discarding it.

"Fine... if you ARE Vyrm'n," and the tone of his voice made clear the fact he seriously doubted it- "Then explain where this is."

My memories, answered the ocean in Vyrm'n's stead. Normally, I would not linger long... but the sun is calm today. Vyrm'n kicked up the water, and smiled. Sand-Galus glanced up at the star in question. The black hole in the sky unnerved him; it reminded him more of the Faceless than anything else in this monochrome landscape.

"Then... what am I doing here?"

I have questions. About Luna.

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SpoilerNB: This is not actual Galus, it's an agglomeration of all Vyrm'n's memories associated with Galus. Therefore it's rather skewed and may deliberately be a gross stereotype of his character. If that made no sense, explain which bit didn't. :P

Originally posted on MSPA by Dragon Fogel.

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SpoilerSomebody accidentally set text and background to the same color.

Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.

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Spoilershush, not deliberate. Fixing it and trying to write the end of the post at the same time. @_@

Originally posted on MSPA by Dragon Fogel.

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SpoilerNB: This is not actual Galus, it's an agglomeration of all Vyrm'n's memories associated with Galus. Therefore it's rather skewed and may deliberately be a gross stereotype of his character. If that made no sense, explain which bit didn't. :P

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SpoilerI more or less get that.

I have a practical question, though. Does Opirian get to give answers for it?

Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.

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SpoilerA very good practical question. I don't know... seeing as Luna is also, technically, my character on the RP "Universe". Plus they've kind of only gotten introduced to each other, and "Universe" slowed down for a while.
So far, in this thread, I've implied there's a story arc somewhere down the line where they find out more about Faceless in general.

Yeah... maybe I didn't think this through. [img]images/smilies/mspa_face.gif[/img]

So tl;cbf, Luna is my character, as is Sand-Galus. Real Galus wouldn't even realise I've made this figment of him. It's like fantasizing about having a conversation with someone you never had the guts to speak to, unless somehow Galus has telepathy. Which would also be interesting. And freaky.

So... uh... I think Sand-Galus is mine and mine alone. In saying that, if Opirian can come up with an awesome reason why that's wrong, he's entitled to get in on Vyrm'n's schizophrenia also.

Originally posted on MSPA by Opirian.

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SpoilerAn implied story line is no big deal, if Universe becomes as big as Fenruis Academy. And feel free, I'll need to learn more about Luna anyway XD, after all Galus and Luna are of the same RP. As for an awesome reason to point out why its wrong, I have none.

Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.

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Guys, Draykon just posted this in GBI:

viewtopic.php?f=37&t=3793&p=442971#p442971

I suggest somebody show up at the watermill where I am and do something about it. Either that, or wake me up. I'm good with either.

Originally posted on MSPA by Sruixan.

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SpoilerRight, decision time. Should I make Maxwell find Vyrm'n, or shall I proceed as I had planned and find Galus instead? Any thoughts?

Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.

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SpoilerVyrm'n's still got stuff to do. Galus. ALthough Amethyst's note is right next to where Vyrm'n is...

Nah, Galus.

Originally posted on MSPA by Opirian.

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Galus had begun to take a slight jog around the area, observing all of the impossibilities of this world. He had come upon an area that was nothing but a ring of stairs, ascending yet descending all at the same time. Not wanting to deal with it, he noted the location in his mind and left the area. Galus began to feel winded as he approached what seemed to be the edge of the world, but he knew that wasn't the case as he peered over the edge. Far in the distance he spotted what appeared to be a water wheel of sorts hanging on the side of the cliff he stood on the edge of. He looked around before moving inch by inch of the edge, finally spreading out his arms he fell forward, or so he should have in the terms of normal physics, but this was not the place for normal physics. He was now standing on the side of the cliff, or the edge of another cliff as one might put.

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Spoilermy writing quality is lacking, but at least it's a post.

Originally posted on MSPA by Sruixan.

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With definite caution, Galus continued down the cliff/floor/wall/surface. Before long, it became oddly apparent that the cliff was not a natural one - at one point he almost put his foot through what he could only conclude was a window, peering into yet another nauseating collection of stairways. He daren't attempt to enter it and risk upsetting his stomach and so he continued towards the most obvious landmark, the watermill. It was an odd contraption - the waterways to the side made his eyes water as he tried to follow them, but it wasn't too difficult to see that the laws of physics were on holdiay there as well.

A little preoccupied, Galus failed to notice that he was putting his foot through yet another hole in the wall. This time, regaining his balance was a tad trickier, resulting in some rather adroit acrobatics, but it was the appearance of a head through that very hole that threatened to undo his work, as suprise almost caused him to topple once more.

"Well, there aren't that many bipeds, are there?... Galus Lee Matthews? I don't believe we've met, formally anyway. Maxwell Sidney Deakin; a pleasure to meet you."

Yes, thought Maxwell, yes his right hand definitely twitched when he saw me. Old habits die hard...

"Now, might I recommend you come indoors? I don't fancy having to spend the entire conversation craning my neck, and trust me, I'd very much like to hold a conversation, if you don't mind... the floor will be in front of you as you climb in, so don't blame me if you end up on the wall..."

A tad bemused, but clever enough to realise that shooting me whilst I have the upper hand in terms of cover. Good man, Galus.

"Alright. I'm coming in."

Galus grimaced slightly and peered through the window. The room in which his fellow combatant was standing looked remarkably plain and normal; two doors, one to his right, currently open, and another to the left, currently closed. Apart from that, the room was devoid of any of the twists that the complex could offer. Well, technically the floor was one of the walls at his current angle, but still.

Cautious, but curious, Galus took the plunge.

Maxwell, of course, had had the sense to stand well back as Galus fell into the room. Naturally, he was observing the pilot's descent - having always been the subject of his own experiments as to the nature of this place, it would be the first time he'd really get to see things happening firsthand. And indeed, things happened - the blue and black blob flew across the room, then for the briefest of moments, a blink-and-you'll-miss-it moment, Galus stopped, before gravity resumed its service and the man plummeted to what was now designated as the common floor. The landing was a tad rough and it was obvious in the way that he rose that the space pilot had experienced disorientation on a greater scale than flight would normally subject him to. That, of course, was part of the plan.

"You are all right, yes? It's awfully odd, certainly, but you'll find your bearings in a moment or two, trust me..."

Galus didn't look exactly pleased and, as he uttered the very words that Maxwell had hoped he'd say, there was a rather stark contrast between the pilot, dazed and confused, and the genius, nonchalantly leaning against the wall.

“What is it that you want?”

“An exchange of information, that is all. I intend to ask you three questions - it is up to you how you choose to answer them. Then, once I have extracted what I require, you are more than welcome to ask me your own set of three questions, which I shall give the best answers to that I can, assuming that the answers you gave to mine make me inclined to do so. Understood?”

"Three questions, huh?"

"Well, if you want to ask me more, feel free; I shall just ask more of you as well. It's just that I believe I can get all the information I'd like from three questions, however complex they might be."

Deliberate misinterpretation, of course. But Galus seemed a little intrigued by the offer, for his own reasons most likely...

"Very well. Fire away."

Maxwell twitched ever so slightly at that remark, but tried to make sure it didn't show. As to whether or not he succeeded...

"Question 1: From what the Observer said at the start of this game, I am led to believe you are a space pilot. Now, from this I can infer that you've done an awful lot of travelling throughout the universe from whence you came, but what I would like to know the most is... what wa- is your home planet like? If you want to draw anything, feel free - I have ample paper and a pencil, I'd just like to know about your home."

From the look on Galus's face, Maxwell could tell he'd struck gold. Still, he'd best continue...

"Question 2: Since you are the only other human competitor which our late friend Cabaret ever had any contact with, bar Samuel, but he doesn't count, I can safely bet that he entrusted you with the notebook he got off of the professor. Can I have it? You can have it back once I've looked at it - I am just, ahem, curious as to some of the things it might say..."

Don't even look, Maxwell. Don't even think about it...

"Finally, question 3: What made you accept to this exchange, rather than just shooting me the moment you saw me?"

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SpoilerI think, Opirian, it would be best if you answered these questions yourself, so you can think of your own to ask me as well. However, I'd like to point out that once I've answered those questions, I might become relatively innactive - mock exams are coming up and coursework deadlines are looming their heads, so I really oughta actually do some work for a change at some point over the next week or two... *whistles*

Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.

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The black-sand imprint of Galus seemed to be struggling for a good reason to refuse Vyrm'n's request. Attempting to change the subject, he asked, "So, whose form are you taking?"

You don't know them, Vyrm'n replied with some mettle.

"Try me."

Vyrm. Sand-Galus laughed at that for some reason, the girl glared resentfully back. What?

"Well, you can't be serious. I mean, who on earth would name someone-" the shadow of the Urisian stopped laughing abruptly when the revelation hit him. Vyrm'n still stood, feet staking out the edge of the water, watching the sandman warily. Galus, curious now, tried asking the Faceless:

"So... Vyrm. She was the first human you met?"

Vyrm'n considered not responding, but eventually the breathing of the sea was overlaid with: No. She was a Tleilaxu; a ghola. One who had died in service... a service in which she served so well, her master could not bear to part with her. The sandman looked uncomfortable with this topic; most would. These clones of the dead, able to restore memories of past lives under extreme circumstance, were a prime example of an ethical quandary made flesh.
The way the Faceless had given it a gendered pronoun... to something which had been named slave. Every part of that statement grated against the figment of Galus' being.

But my past does not concern you, Vyrm'n concluded. I want to know... about Luna.

Sand-Galus tried his other weapons; they also suffered from a lack of cohesive detail on the Faceless' part. He discarded them and watched them melt back into the sand they sprung from, indistinguishable from the mass before long. "What about her? Found her resting in a cargo hold on Ceres, then after she killed some kid of Zreb's called Jack, she followed Zreb around-"
-How did she kill him, interrupted Vyrm'n.
"I don't know, we were in there one moment, then left the two alone, next thing we know it's - Luna's got Jack's face on her and the kid's lying dead on the floor."The girl seemed dissatisfied with this answer. No... did she ever describe what happened then? Pensively, Vyrm'n glanced up at the black orb, the travesty of a sun. Was it growing? She couldn't tell. It's ominous resentment at the existence of the beach it hunched over agitated Vyrm'n, though.

The impression of the pilot frowned, thinking. It was hard for the construct, as Vyrm'n's experiences to date with the real Urisian had not particularly exemplified him as a notably astute thinker. As such, this pale shadow of the real Galus Lee Matthews was a being more inclined to point his gun at things (or, at least, on a more regular basis than the real Galus.)
"I think she tried... several times. But it was always confusing, it was like she couldn't describe it on paper, and her thoughts were too scattered to communicate through telepathy."

Not what the Faceless wanted to hear. Fighting the angry prickle of the sun - it was returning with its usual vehemence, she was sure of it - the sea murmured, And how about before then? Did she ever-

"-Nope. Always tried, seemed desperate to know. But never seemed able to remem-"

Sand-Galus' explanation was interrupted by an arm, lashing out in frustration. Though the memory-water had the cohesion to hold Galus' form together; it could not take the forcible blow Vyrm'n struck on it, spurred on by what felt like thousands of needles in her head as the sun's rage grew and it attempted to destroy everything in the little scene, even boil dry the ocean if it were capable.

The void had finished altering the mill-water's song, and had returned with a vengeance to stop Vyrm'n from wandering the coastline.

Vyrm'n fled as the detail of the world disappeared in a ramping-up of the contrast, until sea and sky and sun and sand were all the same, blinding, burning black.

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The black mass still drifted and fell, drifted and fell through the mill. Cabaret's shrapnel still cohabited this darkness, but now it took up less space proportionally, and thus the shadow's mind was capable of working through the intrusive song and finding itself in control again.

Rising sluggishly from the channel which had originally been reserved for water, Vyrm'n tipped itself out of the pool, disentangling bits of itself which were still completing a tour of the physics-warping mill. Vyrm'n was surprised to notice it had grown in mass since Destructo-World; the gamut of traps it had run through had sheared off bits of darkness at a rate which seemed infinitesimal but evidently had made a differnece in the long run.
With the new mass, though, Vyrm'n stood a comfortable half a foot taller than it had at the start of the Battle.

However, the Faceless was presently more concerned with the disruptive song piercing its mind than the fact it had grown. Wriggling and thrashing, it eventually expelled the remnants of the conjurer's handiwork, scattering them all over alien ground. Not as thorough a job as Gestalt had done; but enough to get the Faceless' thoughts back on track.

The preliminary work done; the Faceless extended out its consciousness to take in the brave new world it had awakened to.

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SpoilerDog-walk times [img]images/smilies/icon_biggrin.gif[/img] But I will read that note, and do a bit of scene-setting later.

Originally posted on MSPA by SleepingOrange.

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SpoilerI'm going to catch up and post in this tomorrow. I have lots of excuses; some of them are even half-decent!

Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.

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SpoilerSO's excuses: Collect 'em all!

For serious, I want to hear them all just for the interest. The world has become a much nicer place now that I never. have. to. do. a. design folio. ever. again. ever.
ever.

Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.

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Vyrm'n shivered uncontrollably with disgust. This place was, somehow, even worse than the chaotic matterscape of Destructo-World. Some key law that governed all matter had been callously turned on its head, then told its head was now its feet and to make do with this inconvenient and bewildering arrangement.

Not that Vyrm'n had any particular fondness for gravity over the other forces that governed matter within the universe; it was just the hamfisted treatment it had been subjected to was enough to make the Faceless squirm. Granted; without eyes to perceive this wall, or that floor, as a wall or floor only to be proved wrong, much of the warped beauty of the world was lost on an unappreciative Vyrm'n; still, the song was vastly more simplified compared to the mesh and tangle that made up the last world, but the alien nuances and myriad undertones troubled the shadow.

The undertones especially. So many of them, even once you got over this essential change at the core of every atom. It was like this world was laid over a million Labyrinth gardens, except that each was imprinted upon a different textile composing its plane, and to accommodate the discrepancies, space had been stretched and warped and finally pinned down with great astral spikes that even by killing the multidimensional beast could not halt its pulsing and struggling.

The way Vyrm'n saw it, there was no universeal down; which suited it just fine. If the plane as a whole couldn't make its mind up on a single arbitrary direction for gravity to operate, Vyrm'n didn't have to keep making and changing its mind at every surface it encountered either. In a rather uncharacteristic attempt to prove this point to itself, the Faceless jumped into the air and coalesced into a ball - its stock-standard shape in zero gravity. At least it'd found one thing pleasant in this world.

But just to prove that it was capable of rationalising the concept of gravity for convenience, the Faceless collapsed into its pillar shape again and slid along the ground to examine some carvings on the presumed floor. The grains of dust which had flown up as the rock was blasted informed Vyrm'n the messenger had been her not long previously.

The message was long and took a while for the Faceless to fully digest, moreso as it took a full reading for the Faceless to eventually reach the conclusion that it, Gestalt, Maxwell, Galus, Samuel and the Sunset were evidently not the only contestants roaming this map. It wanted to take this note to Maxwell, but was unwilling to tear up the ground to get it to him.

Thinking for a moment, the Faceless shifts on top of it, flowing into the gouge-marks Amethyst made in the stone. Doing its best to remember the shape, Vyrm'n shifts the whole mess onto its front (or at least what qualifies as its front considering the direction its planning to take) and then heads off, with some reservations, into the twisted hallways and staircases.

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SpoilerIn other words, where I know for certain Gestalt and Samuel are, and where the Sunset may be wandering. All three would be interesting to talk to at this point.

Originally posted on MSPA by SleepingOrange.

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Samuel stalked after the marionette, never quite able to catch up to it. Clearly the thing had much less problem dealing with the abnormalities of this world than he did. He was getting close when the marionette turned a corner; Samuel sighed and sped up, determined not to let it get out of his sight. He took the corner at a jog and bit his lip when he saw an empty corridor stretching away in front of him. There didn't even seem to be anywhere for the marionette to have gone, but it was conspicuously absent.

The karmist had enough self-control not to jump out of his skin when a small wooden hand tapped his shoulder, but only just. He looked up to see a pair of empty, lacquered eyes staring at him from the ceiling.

"One day you're going to have a normal, civil conversation with me without being deliberately bizarre."

A pencil appeared from the folds of the puppet's clothes and lazily trailed across the wall and ceiling:

and one day the universe will succumb to heatdeath and matter will cease to be

Samuel sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Gestalt was enjoying this. He knew it. The karmist had had just about enough of being toyed with.

what do you need wizard

Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.

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After several moments of listening more specifically to this warped bastard medley of corridors and stairs and messed-up spatial planes, Vyrm'n reached a relatively satisfying conclusion, confirming its suspicions it had established upon waking up.

All the matter was normal and accounted for, with the notable exception of the laws of gravity. This, the Faceless deduced, worked by all basic planes posessing gravity perpendicular to their plane, tending away from the more traversable substance (in other words, going towards the more solid ground). Once that conclusion was reached, the rest was easy. All Vyrm'n had to do was shut out all the surfaces, except the one the shadow wished to travel towards, and then gravity would do its thing.

And ignore the stairs. If Vyrm'n had bothered to have a good think about it, the conclusion would've eventually been reached that these, too, had an arbitrary direction for gravity, but when your average room possessed six surfaces, tastefully arranged for all your gravity-disregarding needs with one for every conceivable direction required to travel, they weren't worth Vyrm'n's time.

The Faceless spent an enjoyable while oscillating back and forth in a corridor, picking one down, then the far opposite; in a strange way Vyrm'n found the mad swinging as its personal gravity succumbed to its own whim was rather fun.

At this point, the Sunset stepped through the doorway at a 90-degree angle just as Vyrm'n picked that end to be in charge of the general direction of down again. The Balancer was using the "conventional" wall as its gravitational basepoint, hence the awkward clamber through the entrance.

Vyrm'n couldn't help itself. It panicked at the sight of the metal suit spurting purple, and alternated rapidly between switching off the gravity, pulling for the perceived floor, pulling in all directions, making the Balancer the centre of gravity, before finally finding its proverbial feet and making a dash for the far opening in the corridor. The Sunset barked a command for the Faceless to halt, but the shadow wasted no time rushing through a series of doorways and corridors to escape the Balancer.

Several doorways and rushing through a hall that contained a bunch of size-warping suits of armour which always looked the same height, with disregard for perspective later, the Faceless felt safe enough to slow down a little. It still heard the Balancer's oddly familiar song echoing through the corridors, but it was nowhere near as fast or maneuverable through the warped gravity as Vyrm'n was, leading the Faceless to feel safe.

At this point, it burst upside-down through a door and emerged into a familiar corridor. The Sunset had only just reached the other end, but turned at the slam of a door collapsing under Vyrm'n's considerable momentum.

Neither being was capable of obvious emotional expression, but the fact they were both completely confused over what just happened was pretty darn obvious. Its thinking-space, with much to be desired, already spilling over with this realisation, Vyrm'n didn't have time to formulate an escape plan. Instead, its front (facing the Sunset) shivered, and Amethyst's words appeared in a silent, black-cast appeal to the Balancer.

The effect would've been that much more elegant if the words weren't an imprint of the original, a ragged mirror image.

Originally posted on MSPA by Opirian.

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Galus looked at his inquisitor, he seemed far from dangerous like other contestants. He leaned forward getting his back off the wall, "To answer your first question, about my home planet" Galus began to answer, "I was not born on a planet but on the traveling colony ship Ceres." Galus turned away from Maxwell and begun to speak up more "It was an interesting place, looked like a planet on the inside it did," he reminisced as he went explained in more detail. "There were many different parts, plains, mountains, and cities even all artificially created of course on the massive behemoth of space."

"It seems like an interesting place, now will you comply with my other question?"

Galus reached into his hip pouch and pulled out the beaten and battered diary of Cabaret, "he was an interesting person, his memories should be read by many," the pilot said as he turned back around and handed the book to his forced to be foe.

"Thank you," Maxwell replied to Galus' gesture as he took the book and began to flip through it, letting out a chuckle at a couple of pages, "May I borrow this till the end of the round?"

"I don't see why not, just don't die before giving it back to me," Galus paused, "if I don't die first." The pilot began to wonder off seemingly have depressed him self, "To answer your final question, I don't really know why I just felt like it had to be done." Galus walked out of earshot of Maxwell who had become infatuated with Cabaret's diary, stairs loomed in front of him, going the wrong way to make any sense of course, but Galus walked on hearing running water on the other side of the doorway to which they led.

Originally posted on MSPA by Archduke_Ferdinand.

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The Sunset silently read over the words before it. Internally, he smiled.

There was apparently another being, somewhere in this world, who shared the same desires as he did. To see put down the strange and otherworldly entities who claim themselves master of all, taking the varied segments of reality and tossing them together like an obsidian salad. The Balancer rose slowly and reflected upon what had been shown to him, and there was a slightly more excited flicker about his purple tendrils than before. He had been searching through this battlefield of physics, for what he was not sure, but perhaps this message was what it had been.

"WHERE WAS THIS OBTAINED, FACELESS."

The Sunset's voice was booming as ever, but there seemed to be a certain softness to it this time, something which had not been portrayed earlier. In fact his voice had never wavered an instant from its reverbrating monotone, not until this moment.

He stood in absolute silence, and awaited a reply from the torn Faceless.

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SpoilerOkay that was pretty lame but it's just to help me get back into it.

Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.

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Vyrm'n mulled it over. It was evident the Sunset was trying to reconnoitre with the messenger - yet the Faceless still remembered Gestalt's thoughts on trying to break out of the game while the players were so vastly powerful in comparison to them, who were mere tokens.

The shadow pulsed momentarily, dislodging the words from its front as it searched for a writing implement. Finding only bits of detritus, it slowly and non-confrontationally reached for the Sunset, wavering as it waited for a response - aggressive or otherwise.

The Faceless' pseudopod meandered uncertainly over the metal hulk, looking for a mental link. With a twitch from the Balancer, Vyrm'n found a crackling band of purple and laid a star-studded paw upon it.

Why are you so... desperate to best the Observer? Vyrm'n's thoughts were exceedingly careful. The cautiousness which permeated them bemused the Sunset - and yet, it seemed distracted, the muddled thoughts crackling in the background of their connection. Surely you realise he will not let us escape and challenge him... unless it suits his purpose for us to entertain him.

You are strong. You could win this fight. You could destroy the golem, Galus, M- those two would progress us further through this battle; towards whatever conclusion the Observer hopes to reach in this fight.

This plane, more so than others... it possesses layers of reality that put that first field to shame. Amethyst's words reappeared upon the Faceless' black countenance, as though it was running over them in its head.

Even if we were to seek out the writer of this note, how would we ever find them?

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SpoilerNote to AF: I'm not keen to kill this madcap plan just yet, even if Vyrm'n is. Certain keywords in your argument/reply may provide you an auto-victory [img]images/smilies/icon_biggrin.gif[/img]

Originally posted on MSPA by bobthepen.

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Spoilerquick and dirty post

Samuel glanced up at the writing before him.

"I believe," he began, "we should combine our abilities in order to assure our passage to the final round."

The pencil jotted a quick note.

do you want me to hold your hand

Samuel grimaced. "I don't need..." The Karmist stopped himself, clenching his fists. "Yes....Gestalt. If that is how you would like to put it then yes."

pitiful

"I think you underestimate the value our partnership could hold for you. True, you would have an easy time disposing of us...humans, but what about The Balancer, or The Faceless? I have faced the brunt of The Sunset's weapon and let me tell you, it will not matter what trinket you are hiding in, that blast will obliterate every bit of your being."

you survived it well enough

"That is because I can control The Balancer, I can channel his abilities and make them my own, "Samuel glanced down at his right arm. "and I intend to control the Faceless as well."

His gaze returned to the glazed eyes of the doll. "I need your assistance, however, to give me the time to complete the transactions necessary to preform such a feat."

i have no more patience for ill conceived plans

The grin returned to Samuel's face. "See for yourself how ill conceived this plan is, Gestalt." The Karmist raised a single finger, and tapped his forehead. "Bind with me, just as you bound yourself to Nu in the garden. You will learn much more than simply how my plan will function."

Originally posted on MSPA by SleepingOrange.

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The pencil tapped slowly on the stone. Clearly some thought was going on in whatever passed for the amalgam's mind.

i have what i feel are understandable reservations

Samuel grinned inwardly, face impassive. He finally had the golem where he wanted it.

"We both know I'm powerless against you. I can understand some hesitation, but if you give it serious thought, you'll realize this is nothing but a good deal for both of us."

There was near-silence and stillness for a few beats. Only the sound of a few unfamiliar voices floated across the surreal landscape as Samuel stared into the unseeing eyes of the puppet. Eventually, a small hand was proffered; Samuel took it, smiling, and the world disappeared.

---

It wasn't black, but black is a helpful concept here. There wasn't space so much as the idea of space. Samuel felt like he was still standing insofar as he felt anything; across from him was a vaguely round shape hovering at about head height. He knew instinctively it was Gestalt.

"You understand that this is difficult for me; I don't typically interface with truly living things. I've taken the precaution of doing a full meld, at least at first; our consciousnesses are directly linked, giving us the opportunity to communicate easily and without interference for as long as we want." There was a short pause before the toneless, androgynous voice continued. "Ordinarily this period would be over in a matter of microseconds, which would be more than long enough to discuss more than you and I would ever have to say to each other, but we're limited by the sluggish speed of your neurons. Our bodies will be incapacitated for the time being, but even given your biological limitations this should only last moments."

Samuel hesitated. "This isn't quite what I imagined this would be like. I don't... I don't know, I don't feel you."

"I have yet to link us like that." The shape seemed to move closer to Samuel. "When you are ready, imagine reaching out to touch me, and the link will be complete." Another pause. "I think you misunderstood my earlier hesitation. I'm not entirely sure what the results of this experiment will be; with minds like mine, the connection is easily created or severed with no lingering effects, but... This is unusual. Be careful, and concentrate on maintaining yourself."

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SpoilerIf anything about this post needs to be changed, let me know.

Originally posted on MSPA by bobthepen.

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At Gestalts' warning, a rush of doubt swept through the Karmist's mind. Perhaps the transaction will fall apart. Where would that leave me? My body, broken, my mind, torn to shreds. The thought certainly did not appeal to Samuel. Why had I been so instant on this? Perhaps there is another way, perhaps...

DO IT. The voice rang through Samuel's consciousness, and, due to his location, through the "mind" of Gestalt as well. Confidently, Samuel raised his left arm towards the orb and clutched it.

Outside of this realm of consciousness, Samuel Therion's body began to quiver. Small portions began to shake on their own accord as the schrotgolem's power worked its way though the Karmist's body. Grasping a bone here, a tendon there, an organ or two, not quite sure what these parts were connected to and instinctively wanting to rip them out for examination, the unceremonious ritual continued. In a rush, Samuel's arm jolted back, almost coming out of socket. His eyes rolled in the back of his head as the Karmist, having lost his balance, writhed on the floor. Gestalt took hold of the Karmist's heart, stopping its rhythmic, life-giving motion. Samuel's body convulsed one final time, before lying limp on the floor.

-----

For the schrotgolem, this method of binding was largely a result of caution. The mental outburst of the Karmist moments prior to establishing contact had convinced Gestalt that binding with Samuel's mind should be saved for last in case some unknown force decided to present itself. Up to this point, nothing inherently disconcerting had appeared; however, the more of Samuel that Gestalt connected to, the more it became aware of an energy previously unknown to the creature. Though a spirit being itself, Gestalt had spent most of its time largely concerned with the physical, the intricacies of whatever trinkets it managed to possess. Rarely had it attempted to bind with something as complex as a human body, and even then without much success. Yet something seemed to guide the schrotgolem as it reached out to the bits and pieces which comprised the Karmist's form. An odd force, like a low whisper, told Gestalt what to bind, and where it should go. "Don't move that there.", "Now is the time to bind this.", "This piece is ready." As Gestalt continued, following these directions, it became clearer what exactly they were saying.

"Death is here. Avoid it."

With this realization, Gestalt began to use the force to seek out the world around it. In its search it found Galus, "This creature is not far from Death.", The Sunset, "This one is dying", Maxwell, Vrymn, even Samuel, "Death shall call for them as well". There were other signals as well, though quite distant, "This boy shall soon perish.", "This woman has a shroud of Death around her.", "This construct repels death.", and "These creatures have passed beyond the gates of death."

As Gestalt grasped the Karmist's heart, a new flood of sensation rushed into the schrotgolem. The voice of death became a window into the greater workings of the world. All at once the whole of Karmic interactions rushed through the shrotgolem, battering his spirit with the endless chain of potential implications from which Samuel drew his power. The wave of novel knowledge and perception overwhelmed the cautious creature. It needed time to pick apart the plethora of new information, shelter to protect it from the sudden onslaught of the whole. Gestalt relied on understanding the whole through its parts, attempting to envelope it all at once was too much for it. It turned to the mind of the limp Karmist and punctured it with a tendril of thought.

"I do not understand this. Aid me please. It is too much"

A single voice replied, "FINISH THE DEED."

Reluctantly, Gestalt crept over the last part of the Samuel. Finally integrating the last part of the Karmist with itself.
------

Both the doll and the man lay motionless, the man on the floor below, the doll on the floor above. Neither breathing; no heart beating, only a foul stench emanating from both. The dark, rotting stink enveloped the two forms, increasing in potency, becoming almost tangible. In a slow, deliberate motion, the power belying the decrepit odor raised both forms off of the ground and ceiling. Both nearly hovered above whatever plane they touched, and, in a sudden shock, the Karmist's heart jolted to life. He glanced up at the ceiling above him. Samuel reached out his hand, and with invisible threads grasped the discarded pencil. The small writing tool sprung towards him, spun around his hand and landed gently in his palm. A wide grin spread across his face.

Samuel Therion was immensely pleased.

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SpoilerAt this point, Samuel's and Gestalt's consciousnesses are still distinct, though they are intimately connected. Basically they have to stay close together, and they can use one another's abilities. While it is technically Gestalt moving things about, just like with Nu, Samuel can compel it to happen. Of course the same holds true for Samuel, if Gestalt wants to make use of Samuel's abilities, there is not much Samuel can to do stop him. Orange, if you want to add to or edit this relationship at all, go ahead.