RE: The Battle of the Victors (*S1/2*) - Round 0? - Ill Fortune Theatre
12-01-2023, 01:13 AM
(This post was last modified: 12-01-2023, 01:21 AM by Ixcaliber.)
Fran turned right, past where the crowd had been betting earlier. If this place was symmetrical there would be stairs at the end of the corridor and this side would be closer. She ran past a bunch of burnt and still smouldering paper money, crawling along the floor, screaming in agony.
“We need to get out of here!” The voice came from behind her, she turned around to see the blue haired woman, Worm Hotel?? No she hated that, what was her actual name again? Frick, it just wasn’t as memorable as Worm Hotel. She was coming up behind her, grabbed her hand and they ran together until they reached the stairs. Worm Hotel was pulling on her arm, trying to pull her on further; past the stairs to the fire escape.
“No, there’s nothing out there.” Fran said. “The only way to stop this is to fight.”
Worm Hotel’s eyes were red and puffy, she’d definitely been crying since she’d been on-stage earlier. “I’m not a fighter. I’ll never survive this for real. Running away is all I have right now.”
“Just!” Fran squeezed her fists tight. “Just hold on! Don’t do anything reckless just yet. Please.”
Worm Hotel bit her lip anxiously and averted her gaze. “Okay. Be safe.” At that moment a bright orange worm about the size of a ferret or a weasel, emerged from her right shoulder and bounded down her arm, leaping over and disappearing into Fran’s chest in a moment. For a moment Worm Hotel looked sad and then she smiled slightly and said: “Keep her safe Nas.”
“What in the heck just happened?” Fran asked, but Worm Hotel (Natasha) was already heading out onto the fire escape. Something banged against the door of the nearest private box, and that irritating envelope popped up again. Fran screamed inwardly overwhelmed with all the stuff that was happening and forced herself to turn around and hurry down the stairs.
In the ground floor corridors there were throngs of dice people and card people and others all shoving their way down the corridor away from the auditorium. Fran had to fight to avoid being carried away in the tide, managing to slowly get herself closer to a doorway until she could force her way inside as the panicking audience was thinning.
Inside the auditorium, there were two major noteworthy developments, first was that up on the stage was some kind of genetic monstrosity, made of bone as sharp as a blade, thick bundles of exposed muscle and tumorous growths. It was fighting side by side with One-Billion-Blades against The Baker and the Tormentrix.
The other notable thing was that the place was now crowded with the grey eyed members of The City, most of whom were placidly standing around staring at the ongoing conflict, some of whom were wrestling with a blood-drenched living tree monster, and a couple of whom were fervently blocking Fran’s path to the action. “Let me through!” she demanded but they were not listening.
(I can help!) An errant thought popped into Fran’s mind, and almost immediately she felt strong, a power, a heat emanating from her chest. She clenched her hands into fists, and driven by mad impulse, she swung at the nearest grey eyed individual (a muscular lady with blonde hair and the look of a bouncer about her). It was a clumsy blow and the grey eyed lady easily blocked it with her forearms, but she clearly wasn’t expecting the sheer force of the blow and stumbled backwards, right into a couple of other members of the City, landing in a small pile, as every head nearby turned to stare at her.
“Careful whose side you choose to stand by little fox.” They said as one.
Fran ignored them, pushing her way into the gap she’d made and then climbing over the empty seats hurrying up to the stage. There was The Authority, lying flat on her face now and bleeding inky black fluid where Thrillseeker’s screaming light ropes were still cutting into her. The necrotic monstrosity was taking taking huge swings, forcing The Baker and The Tormentrix to brace themselves or get out of the way and One-Billion-Blades floating arsenal was seizing every opportunity to slice at them or outright impale them. Though none of it seemed to be having the same debilitating effect as Thrillseeker’s weapon.
The Bride and Urzov were off on the other side, facing off against Atasha and Irabeth. Irabeth, the disembodied hand, was crawling on Urzov’s back, drawing a complicated sigil in ink with her fingertips, and when she completed it, it exploded in a shower of blood, knocking Urzov limply to the ground and sending Irabeth flying off halfway across the stage. The Bride and Atasha were matching each other slash and block, parry and dodge. Which was all the more impressive given that Atasha had her eyes closed; the Bride had her veil raised, and even from this angle Fran could feel a chill running through her bones just glimpsing her from behind and knowing that whatever was underneath was exposed to the world. Undercutting it all was a cheery pop song, seemingly being sung by Atasha’s glittering sword.
Fran bounded from seat to seat, power flowing through her, she leapt and climbed up onto the stage, past the body of The Authority that tried to grab for her foot as she ran past and slammed into the back of The Bride, shutting her eyes tightly as they both toppled to the floor.
“Fran!” Atasha called out, with one eye cautiously open. “I called it! I knew you’d be on our side!”
Fran felt The Bride lurching underneath her. She scrambled up to her knees, pinning The Bride’s hands behind her back with one hand and preventing her from turning her head with the other.
“You just fucked up, Fox. I’m going to turn you into so much bloody confetti, no matter what your benefactor has to say about it.”
“Get your paws off my wife!” Urzov was struggling to her feet, bloodied and snarling. Atasha was quickly standing over her, her blade pressed against Urzov’s forehead.
“Don’t fight us, Urzov.” Atasha pleaded. “We both got pulled into this against our will. You don’t really love her, do you?”
Whatever answer Urzov might have been ready to give was cut short by a final scream of agony from The Authority. Fran looked around to see her body dissolving into a dark blue mist and then dissipating. Thrillseeker sprinted across the stage, her light ropes fading and dying now that their task was complete, she came to the spot where The Authority had passed and snatched at the air as though trying to pluck her essence back from the ether.
“I’m ending this.” The Tormentrix’s voice was drained of any of her cruel joy. As she spoke the building began to shake. In the distance there was the sound of wood splintering, the sounds of a being far too large to be contained bursting force and shattering corridors as they moved.
Beneath Fran The Bride renewed her struggle all the time spitting out vile invective about the fox. Fran felt her newfound power starting to leave her. (I’m sorry…)
Behind her the doors of the theatre slammed open, falling away, crumbling like the walls beside them, as the monstrous serpent Faerynsormr burst into the room. The numerous grey eyed beings of The City were gone. At the front of the stage Thrillseeker drew her scythe and though Fran couldn’t see it from this angle she was sure she was grinning. The serpent crashed forward, swallowing whole the empty seats in its wake. The Baker and The Tormentrix were arguing amongst each other. It was taking everything Fran had to hold down The Bride, as her last reserves of power were drying up. The enormous monster of bone and viscera was shedding huge chunks of its body. The Reapers, Sara and Zafira, rematerialized and started to hurry to Thrillseeker’s side, but there was no time. The serpent was upon them. Thrillseeker swung her scythe and sliced off a tooth but it was futile in the face of that maw.
And then Fran found herself elsewhere, somewhere huge and open and perfectly flat. No longer struggling against The Bride, Fran collapsed to the floor, which was red and kind of soft and unpleasantly greasy.
“Pizza World.” The Oddball’s voice echoed inside her head, and Fran realized she was lying on an enormous piece of pepperoni.
“No no no. We are not doing Pizza World. Does anyone else have any better suggestions?”
“I suggest you both stop interfering and let me devour these pathetic miserable little maggots. These lowly creatures who have risen above their station.”
“Can we all just calm down for a minute-”
“One of us is dead Baker, need I remind you?”
“Has anyone seen The High-Roller since this unruliness began?”
“Fuck!”
“Excuse me. This is all valuable conversation but perhaps we could be having it in private where the contestants can’t hear?”
Abruptly the Hosts’ conversation stopped, or switched locales at the very least. Fran, more exhausted than she’d felt in a long time, lay atop the enormous pepperoni and rested her eyes for a minute.
“We need to get out of here!” The voice came from behind her, she turned around to see the blue haired woman, Worm Hotel?? No she hated that, what was her actual name again? Frick, it just wasn’t as memorable as Worm Hotel. She was coming up behind her, grabbed her hand and they ran together until they reached the stairs. Worm Hotel was pulling on her arm, trying to pull her on further; past the stairs to the fire escape.
“No, there’s nothing out there.” Fran said. “The only way to stop this is to fight.”
Worm Hotel’s eyes were red and puffy, she’d definitely been crying since she’d been on-stage earlier. “I’m not a fighter. I’ll never survive this for real. Running away is all I have right now.”
“Just!” Fran squeezed her fists tight. “Just hold on! Don’t do anything reckless just yet. Please.”
Worm Hotel bit her lip anxiously and averted her gaze. “Okay. Be safe.” At that moment a bright orange worm about the size of a ferret or a weasel, emerged from her right shoulder and bounded down her arm, leaping over and disappearing into Fran’s chest in a moment. For a moment Worm Hotel looked sad and then she smiled slightly and said: “Keep her safe Nas.”
“What in the heck just happened?” Fran asked, but Worm Hotel (Natasha) was already heading out onto the fire escape. Something banged against the door of the nearest private box, and that irritating envelope popped up again. Fran screamed inwardly overwhelmed with all the stuff that was happening and forced herself to turn around and hurry down the stairs.
In the ground floor corridors there were throngs of dice people and card people and others all shoving their way down the corridor away from the auditorium. Fran had to fight to avoid being carried away in the tide, managing to slowly get herself closer to a doorway until she could force her way inside as the panicking audience was thinning.
Inside the auditorium, there were two major noteworthy developments, first was that up on the stage was some kind of genetic monstrosity, made of bone as sharp as a blade, thick bundles of exposed muscle and tumorous growths. It was fighting side by side with One-Billion-Blades against The Baker and the Tormentrix.
The other notable thing was that the place was now crowded with the grey eyed members of The City, most of whom were placidly standing around staring at the ongoing conflict, some of whom were wrestling with a blood-drenched living tree monster, and a couple of whom were fervently blocking Fran’s path to the action. “Let me through!” she demanded but they were not listening.
(I can help!) An errant thought popped into Fran’s mind, and almost immediately she felt strong, a power, a heat emanating from her chest. She clenched her hands into fists, and driven by mad impulse, she swung at the nearest grey eyed individual (a muscular lady with blonde hair and the look of a bouncer about her). It was a clumsy blow and the grey eyed lady easily blocked it with her forearms, but she clearly wasn’t expecting the sheer force of the blow and stumbled backwards, right into a couple of other members of the City, landing in a small pile, as every head nearby turned to stare at her.
“Careful whose side you choose to stand by little fox.” They said as one.
Fran ignored them, pushing her way into the gap she’d made and then climbing over the empty seats hurrying up to the stage. There was The Authority, lying flat on her face now and bleeding inky black fluid where Thrillseeker’s screaming light ropes were still cutting into her. The necrotic monstrosity was taking taking huge swings, forcing The Baker and The Tormentrix to brace themselves or get out of the way and One-Billion-Blades floating arsenal was seizing every opportunity to slice at them or outright impale them. Though none of it seemed to be having the same debilitating effect as Thrillseeker’s weapon.
The Bride and Urzov were off on the other side, facing off against Atasha and Irabeth. Irabeth, the disembodied hand, was crawling on Urzov’s back, drawing a complicated sigil in ink with her fingertips, and when she completed it, it exploded in a shower of blood, knocking Urzov limply to the ground and sending Irabeth flying off halfway across the stage. The Bride and Atasha were matching each other slash and block, parry and dodge. Which was all the more impressive given that Atasha had her eyes closed; the Bride had her veil raised, and even from this angle Fran could feel a chill running through her bones just glimpsing her from behind and knowing that whatever was underneath was exposed to the world. Undercutting it all was a cheery pop song, seemingly being sung by Atasha’s glittering sword.
Fran bounded from seat to seat, power flowing through her, she leapt and climbed up onto the stage, past the body of The Authority that tried to grab for her foot as she ran past and slammed into the back of The Bride, shutting her eyes tightly as they both toppled to the floor.
“Fran!” Atasha called out, with one eye cautiously open. “I called it! I knew you’d be on our side!”
Fran felt The Bride lurching underneath her. She scrambled up to her knees, pinning The Bride’s hands behind her back with one hand and preventing her from turning her head with the other.
“You just fucked up, Fox. I’m going to turn you into so much bloody confetti, no matter what your benefactor has to say about it.”
“Get your paws off my wife!” Urzov was struggling to her feet, bloodied and snarling. Atasha was quickly standing over her, her blade pressed against Urzov’s forehead.
“Don’t fight us, Urzov.” Atasha pleaded. “We both got pulled into this against our will. You don’t really love her, do you?”
Whatever answer Urzov might have been ready to give was cut short by a final scream of agony from The Authority. Fran looked around to see her body dissolving into a dark blue mist and then dissipating. Thrillseeker sprinted across the stage, her light ropes fading and dying now that their task was complete, she came to the spot where The Authority had passed and snatched at the air as though trying to pluck her essence back from the ether.
“I’m ending this.” The Tormentrix’s voice was drained of any of her cruel joy. As she spoke the building began to shake. In the distance there was the sound of wood splintering, the sounds of a being far too large to be contained bursting force and shattering corridors as they moved.
Beneath Fran The Bride renewed her struggle all the time spitting out vile invective about the fox. Fran felt her newfound power starting to leave her. (I’m sorry…)
Behind her the doors of the theatre slammed open, falling away, crumbling like the walls beside them, as the monstrous serpent Faerynsormr burst into the room. The numerous grey eyed beings of The City were gone. At the front of the stage Thrillseeker drew her scythe and though Fran couldn’t see it from this angle she was sure she was grinning. The serpent crashed forward, swallowing whole the empty seats in its wake. The Baker and The Tormentrix were arguing amongst each other. It was taking everything Fran had to hold down The Bride, as her last reserves of power were drying up. The enormous monster of bone and viscera was shedding huge chunks of its body. The Reapers, Sara and Zafira, rematerialized and started to hurry to Thrillseeker’s side, but there was no time. The serpent was upon them. Thrillseeker swung her scythe and sliced off a tooth but it was futile in the face of that maw.
And then Fran found herself elsewhere, somewhere huge and open and perfectly flat. No longer struggling against The Bride, Fran collapsed to the floor, which was red and kind of soft and unpleasantly greasy.
“Pizza World.” The Oddball’s voice echoed inside her head, and Fran realized she was lying on an enormous piece of pepperoni.
“No no no. We are not doing Pizza World. Does anyone else have any better suggestions?”
“I suggest you both stop interfering and let me devour these pathetic miserable little maggots. These lowly creatures who have risen above their station.”
“Can we all just calm down for a minute-”
“One of us is dead Baker, need I remind you?”
“Has anyone seen The High-Roller since this unruliness began?”
“Fuck!”
“Excuse me. This is all valuable conversation but perhaps we could be having it in private where the contestants can’t hear?”
Abruptly the Hosts’ conversation stopped, or switched locales at the very least. Fran, more exhausted than she’d felt in a long time, lay atop the enormous pepperoni and rested her eyes for a minute.