Re: The Grand Battle S2G1! [Round Two: Sk'va!]
07-18-2010, 03:02 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by slipsicle.
The Ovoid had remained mostly stationary during the transition, Weo's scythe resting on the floating, reclining rainbow-man-thing completely undisturbed.
The multicolored surface of the shape-shifted Ovoid began to ripple slightly, and its sudden tilting towards the upright position caused the scythe to slide off. Before it reached the ground, however, an oily-textured, tan appendage swelled around it before disappearing, along with the scythe.
The rainbow-clone had neared the upright position when its entire surface shifted. The feet joined, the neck swelled and the head flattened until the Ovoid had resumed the shape of its namesake. All color had vanished, to be replaced by the familiar tan-color.
Then it moved, faster than anything should be able to move, flying away from the floating island of Sk'va, and the steadily-closer island of Cyk'nl at incredible speeds.
Shortly after it vanished from view, it appeared from the opposite direction, slightly below the planes of Sk'va and Cyk'nl, closer to the latter than the former, and out of the view of prying eyes. It floated serenely up over the edge of Cyk'nl's metal edge, its sudden appearance drawing the attention of the Cyk'nlans in the area; at first glance similar to the Sk'vans in attire, but upon closer inspection, one would observe them to be more lizard-like than their insectoid rivals.
The Cyk'nlan gazed upon the Ovoid's perfectly smooth surface as it glided over the roofs of their buildings. It headed straight for the nearest open area, and by that time had quite a crowd of lizard-mage-scientists following. It could not know that it was landing before their Temple of Lost Lore; a town square of sorts, used for occasions of special significance to the Cyk'nlan. The Ovoid floated downwards, resting a bare two feet above the metal ground of the Cyk'nlan disc.
The crowd gathered around the strange floating entity, waiting for something to happen. Then, abruptly, a man appeared from nowhere, directly in front of the Ovoid. He was dressed in a skin-tight, tan-colored coverall, made of a strange oily material that glinted in the sunlight. He was also holding a large, impressive-looking scythe. His face was pressed into a permanent rictus of fear and pain; had there been anyone from the previous round present, they may have recognized him as one of the clones abducted into 4-space by the Ovoid, before its first transformation.
The Cyk'nlans surrounding the Ovoid and the clone waited expectantly.
The clone spoke.
"I speak for..." he gestured behind him, "the Entity." His voice was haggard and worn, and his speech uncertain.
A Cyk'nlan pushed its way through the crowd to the forefront, making quite the commotion as it did so.
"This! It has come! Cyk'nlans, the Inscriber has arrived, as foretold in our ancient tomes!" the Cyk'nlan's voice, an old male, took on a reverent tone as he recited from memory, "'And lo, it shall rise from the dead planet below, and be unknown to you. It will communicate through foreign means, and its Protector shall accompany it in all things'. There can be no doubt! This is the Inscriber!"
The crowd erupted in a cheer as the hapless clone looked around in confusion, seeming to be on the verge of outright terror.
He clutched the scythe harder, and glanced back at the Ovoid, whose presence had taken a somewhat ominous air. The clone looked forward again, and muttered under his breath, "Lennon help me, what am I supposed to do now?"
The Ovoid had remained mostly stationary during the transition, Weo's scythe resting on the floating, reclining rainbow-man-thing completely undisturbed.
The multicolored surface of the shape-shifted Ovoid began to ripple slightly, and its sudden tilting towards the upright position caused the scythe to slide off. Before it reached the ground, however, an oily-textured, tan appendage swelled around it before disappearing, along with the scythe.
The rainbow-clone had neared the upright position when its entire surface shifted. The feet joined, the neck swelled and the head flattened until the Ovoid had resumed the shape of its namesake. All color had vanished, to be replaced by the familiar tan-color.
Then it moved, faster than anything should be able to move, flying away from the floating island of Sk'va, and the steadily-closer island of Cyk'nl at incredible speeds.
Shortly after it vanished from view, it appeared from the opposite direction, slightly below the planes of Sk'va and Cyk'nl, closer to the latter than the former, and out of the view of prying eyes. It floated serenely up over the edge of Cyk'nl's metal edge, its sudden appearance drawing the attention of the Cyk'nlans in the area; at first glance similar to the Sk'vans in attire, but upon closer inspection, one would observe them to be more lizard-like than their insectoid rivals.
The Cyk'nlan gazed upon the Ovoid's perfectly smooth surface as it glided over the roofs of their buildings. It headed straight for the nearest open area, and by that time had quite a crowd of lizard-mage-scientists following. It could not know that it was landing before their Temple of Lost Lore; a town square of sorts, used for occasions of special significance to the Cyk'nlan. The Ovoid floated downwards, resting a bare two feet above the metal ground of the Cyk'nlan disc.
The crowd gathered around the strange floating entity, waiting for something to happen. Then, abruptly, a man appeared from nowhere, directly in front of the Ovoid. He was dressed in a skin-tight, tan-colored coverall, made of a strange oily material that glinted in the sunlight. He was also holding a large, impressive-looking scythe. His face was pressed into a permanent rictus of fear and pain; had there been anyone from the previous round present, they may have recognized him as one of the clones abducted into 4-space by the Ovoid, before its first transformation.
The Cyk'nlans surrounding the Ovoid and the clone waited expectantly.
The clone spoke.
"I speak for..." he gestured behind him, "the Entity." His voice was haggard and worn, and his speech uncertain.
A Cyk'nlan pushed its way through the crowd to the forefront, making quite the commotion as it did so.
"This! It has come! Cyk'nlans, the Inscriber has arrived, as foretold in our ancient tomes!" the Cyk'nlan's voice, an old male, took on a reverent tone as he recited from memory, "'And lo, it shall rise from the dead planet below, and be unknown to you. It will communicate through foreign means, and its Protector shall accompany it in all things'. There can be no doubt! This is the Inscriber!"
The crowd erupted in a cheer as the hapless clone looked around in confusion, seeming to be on the verge of outright terror.
He clutched the scythe harder, and glanced back at the Ovoid, whose presence had taken a somewhat ominous air. The clone looked forward again, and muttered under his breath, "Lennon help me, what am I supposed to do now?"