Re: The Grand Battle S2G1! [Round Five: Round Six!]
06-26-2012, 04:00 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Lord Paradise.
A fire was spreading.
The beavers were the front lines of containment, working in shifts to build a dam that would divert a couple of rivers directly into the fire. This effort was held up by protests from the rivers themselves, who pointed out that they would have diverted themselves if anyone had only asked nicely but now that they didn’t have a say in it weren’t sure that they were overly keen to be thrust face-first into a probably-magical inferno of death. After flowing upstream for a bit, the rivers were told off by their sources, forced to swallow their pride, and began flooding the afflicted area.
Sir Cedric stood amidst the flame, watching it consume monsters by the thousand. Across three battles, he had developed a very, very comprehensive definition of the term “monster.” The family of chipmunks stuffing as much food into their cheeks as possible before abandoning their home to the fire were monsters. The butterfly, barely intelligent enough to register that a hole had been burnt in her wings, was a monster. The clovers that all had four leaves until the moment you picked one, at which point they all turned into poison ivy, were just weird, and obviously monstrous. Admittedly, they were not very challenging monsters, but then again, what was, nowadays? Cedric had killed everything worth killing already, including the God he’d used to fight for and more Grandmasters than he could name. He could only name two Grandmasters, but that was still pretty impressive.
Cedric’s beard whispered to him the secrets of the flame. The fire was in pain, retreating under an assault from two rivers, the first of which would be bearing down on his location in a matter of moments. The knight smiled. He hadn’t expected these monsters to defend themselves so effectively or so quickly. Well, they clearly had magic and knew how to use it. So did he.
The river came upon him like a two-story-high wave, all at once. It was angry. The knight had been around the block enough times to know the difference between an indifferent force of nature thoughtlessly mowing down everything in its path, and an angry force of nature mowing down everything in its path with purpose. The river was the second kind, and he was the first.
What happens when an unstoppable force meets an unstoppable force with a bigger sword?
Miles upstream, fish were boiled alive. The beavers’ newly-constructed dams caught fire from contact with the water alone. The riverbanks defaulted on their debts and started a financial crisis affecting businesses far inland. Jennifer Tull, rushing toward the fire through the treetops, paused to see the horizon blocked off by a wall of steam.
Cedric stood panting—dry as a bone—and turned around to face the second river.
From atop his zebra, Hector held one hand palm-up and blinked. In his palm was now a tiny, beautiful yellow canary. The canary took one whiff of the smoke rising from the forest and died. ”Damn,” grunted the king, tossing the dead bird onto the ground and hoping there would be time enough for it to decompose and live a second life as soil.
Cedric’s victory against the second river was not so graceful. Coughing and sputtering and knee-deep in mud, he was clean-shaven for a terrifying minute before a five o’ clock spark began to spread across his chin. His forest fire dimmed a bit in the humidity, but remained flickering among the canopies of the trees.
A shadow passed in front of the flames.
A human girl maybe a year younger than Hector, dressed in a hospital gown of all things, jumped down from the canopy to face the firestarter. She looked vaguely familiar--pretty in a boring sort of way--but the king’s eyes were drawn to her sword. The flickering beige of the sword looked very familiar.
A purple-clad warrior maybe a year older than Jen rode in on a purple-and-black Pegasus and interposed himself between herself and the arsonist. He was handsome in a forgettable sort of way. He was unarmed.
Cedric admired his reflection in the water. He was gorgeous. He turned towards the newcomers. “You kids come to fight me? Why would you want to do that? You’ve seen what I can do.”
”Have I? When was that?" asked Jen. The ex-queen then looked down at the water pooling around her feet. "Oh, the river thing. That's what you can do?"
Cedric smiled. "Aye, 'twas I who turned back--"
"Well, then, you're right. Why the fuck would I want to fight you, Sir Cedric? I have kind of a code against killing people who can't defend themselves."
Cedric advanced a step. "I used to think that way," he said. "Then for a while I just didn't kill people who got the hell out of my way. Nowadays I don't--"
”That’s enough out of both of you!” interrupted Hector. “I’m king in this Place and I don’t allow humans here. Go back where you came from or die. Those are your only options.”
Jen rolled her eyes and drew her sword. ”Oh, great, another anti-human shitbird,” she spat. “Like I didn't get enough of that last round.”
”That is no way to address royalty when you're trespassing in his kingdom, bitch!”
”D’you just say ‘round?’”
”Kid,” sneered Jen. “How about we kill this pyromaniac first, and then go back to my place and have a serious talk about lines of succession. Does the name 'Jen the First' ring a bell?”
Hector’s face softened with recognition. “Jen the First,” he repeated. “Huh. The hell did you get back from the dead?”
”Ha! Which time?”
Cedric’s megaphone blared to life. ”THIS CONVERSATION IS BORING!” he shouted. ”EITHER FUCKING FIGHT ME OR JUMP INTO THE FIRE AND DIE QUIETLY!”
The two monarchs turned. Cedric’s Silver Sword was strapped behind his back. In one hand he held the megaphone, in the other a silver cube. Etched on the cube was what appeared to be a crude silhouette of a turkey.
Jen shrugged. “Since I haven’t had to kill a magic-powered warlord asshole in fifteen fucking minutes. Alright, Captain Redbeard, since you’re clearly so fucking anxious, you can show us what the fucking cube thing does.”
Cedric had no time to decipher the girl’s sarcasm. He smiled, showing off his lovely new silver teeth, and threw the cube into the mud.
Where there had been a forest half an hour before, a four-story tenement building sprouted up under the three warriors’ feet. It was a soulless, purely functional entity of glass, metal, and concrete. From below them came the buzz of thousands of fluorescent lights flickering on at once.
Cedric laughed and drew his sword. “Nice place for a duel, isn't it?"
The building was still growing. Down on the ground, a web of sidewalks were beginning to spread, choking the roots of those trees that had survived the fire. A sewer grate appeared and began to suck in the riverwater. The Silver City began to overtake the Place, inch by inch.
Jen raised the beige blade and charged. Hector took a step back and blinked.
A fire was spreading.
The beavers were the front lines of containment, working in shifts to build a dam that would divert a couple of rivers directly into the fire. This effort was held up by protests from the rivers themselves, who pointed out that they would have diverted themselves if anyone had only asked nicely but now that they didn’t have a say in it weren’t sure that they were overly keen to be thrust face-first into a probably-magical inferno of death. After flowing upstream for a bit, the rivers were told off by their sources, forced to swallow their pride, and began flooding the afflicted area.
Sir Cedric stood amidst the flame, watching it consume monsters by the thousand. Across three battles, he had developed a very, very comprehensive definition of the term “monster.” The family of chipmunks stuffing as much food into their cheeks as possible before abandoning their home to the fire were monsters. The butterfly, barely intelligent enough to register that a hole had been burnt in her wings, was a monster. The clovers that all had four leaves until the moment you picked one, at which point they all turned into poison ivy, were just weird, and obviously monstrous. Admittedly, they were not very challenging monsters, but then again, what was, nowadays? Cedric had killed everything worth killing already, including the God he’d used to fight for and more Grandmasters than he could name. He could only name two Grandmasters, but that was still pretty impressive.
Cedric’s beard whispered to him the secrets of the flame. The fire was in pain, retreating under an assault from two rivers, the first of which would be bearing down on his location in a matter of moments. The knight smiled. He hadn’t expected these monsters to defend themselves so effectively or so quickly. Well, they clearly had magic and knew how to use it. So did he.
The river came upon him like a two-story-high wave, all at once. It was angry. The knight had been around the block enough times to know the difference between an indifferent force of nature thoughtlessly mowing down everything in its path, and an angry force of nature mowing down everything in its path with purpose. The river was the second kind, and he was the first.
What happens when an unstoppable force meets an unstoppable force with a bigger sword?
Miles upstream, fish were boiled alive. The beavers’ newly-constructed dams caught fire from contact with the water alone. The riverbanks defaulted on their debts and started a financial crisis affecting businesses far inland. Jennifer Tull, rushing toward the fire through the treetops, paused to see the horizon blocked off by a wall of steam.
Cedric stood panting—dry as a bone—and turned around to face the second river.
From atop his zebra, Hector held one hand palm-up and blinked. In his palm was now a tiny, beautiful yellow canary. The canary took one whiff of the smoke rising from the forest and died. ”Damn,” grunted the king, tossing the dead bird onto the ground and hoping there would be time enough for it to decompose and live a second life as soil.
Cedric’s victory against the second river was not so graceful. Coughing and sputtering and knee-deep in mud, he was clean-shaven for a terrifying minute before a five o’ clock spark began to spread across his chin. His forest fire dimmed a bit in the humidity, but remained flickering among the canopies of the trees.
A shadow passed in front of the flames.
A human girl maybe a year younger than Hector, dressed in a hospital gown of all things, jumped down from the canopy to face the firestarter. She looked vaguely familiar--pretty in a boring sort of way--but the king’s eyes were drawn to her sword. The flickering beige of the sword looked very familiar.
A purple-clad warrior maybe a year older than Jen rode in on a purple-and-black Pegasus and interposed himself between herself and the arsonist. He was handsome in a forgettable sort of way. He was unarmed.
Cedric admired his reflection in the water. He was gorgeous. He turned towards the newcomers. “You kids come to fight me? Why would you want to do that? You’ve seen what I can do.”
”Have I? When was that?" asked Jen. The ex-queen then looked down at the water pooling around her feet. "Oh, the river thing. That's what you can do?"
Cedric smiled. "Aye, 'twas I who turned back--"
"Well, then, you're right. Why the fuck would I want to fight you, Sir Cedric? I have kind of a code against killing people who can't defend themselves."
Cedric advanced a step. "I used to think that way," he said. "Then for a while I just didn't kill people who got the hell out of my way. Nowadays I don't--"
”That’s enough out of both of you!” interrupted Hector. “I’m king in this Place and I don’t allow humans here. Go back where you came from or die. Those are your only options.”
Jen rolled her eyes and drew her sword. ”Oh, great, another anti-human shitbird,” she spat. “Like I didn't get enough of that last round.”
”That is no way to address royalty when you're trespassing in his kingdom, bitch!”
”D’you just say ‘round?’”
”Kid,” sneered Jen. “How about we kill this pyromaniac first, and then go back to my place and have a serious talk about lines of succession. Does the name 'Jen the First' ring a bell?”
Hector’s face softened with recognition. “Jen the First,” he repeated. “Huh. The hell did you get back from the dead?”
”Ha! Which time?”
Cedric’s megaphone blared to life. ”THIS CONVERSATION IS BORING!” he shouted. ”EITHER FUCKING FIGHT ME OR JUMP INTO THE FIRE AND DIE QUIETLY!”
The two monarchs turned. Cedric’s Silver Sword was strapped behind his back. In one hand he held the megaphone, in the other a silver cube. Etched on the cube was what appeared to be a crude silhouette of a turkey.
Jen shrugged. “Since I haven’t had to kill a magic-powered warlord asshole in fifteen fucking minutes. Alright, Captain Redbeard, since you’re clearly so fucking anxious, you can show us what the fucking cube thing does.”
Cedric had no time to decipher the girl’s sarcasm. He smiled, showing off his lovely new silver teeth, and threw the cube into the mud.
Where there had been a forest half an hour before, a four-story tenement building sprouted up under the three warriors’ feet. It was a soulless, purely functional entity of glass, metal, and concrete. From below them came the buzz of thousands of fluorescent lights flickering on at once.
Cedric laughed and drew his sword. “Nice place for a duel, isn't it?"
The building was still growing. Down on the ground, a web of sidewalks were beginning to spread, choking the roots of those trees that had survived the fire. A sewer grate appeared and began to suck in the riverwater. The Silver City began to overtake the Place, inch by inch.
Jen raised the beige blade and charged. Hector took a step back and blinked.