Re: The Phenomenal Fracas! (GBS2G6): [PHENOMENISING...]
07-15-2010, 06:12 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by whoosh!.
The Prestidigitator smiled slowly at the eight before him and stood to greet them. All of the combatants were frozen in eight of the finest red velvet armchairs the universes had to offer, and those with suitable appendages were clutching a crystal glass of his personal cognac like their life depended upon it. White knuckles were a common sight among the lineup.
“Doubtless, dear combatants, you are wondering what's going on here,†he said in a perfect stage whisper, moving a little closer to the threshold of the shadow, where his fire's light managed to hit the room. He spread his hands, his grin easy and large.
“Why, my dear combatants, it is because you are unique. Impressive, proud and beautiful in your own ways, I have brought you here because, for want of a better term, I want your souls. Or at the very least, to see what they contain.†He lunged forward into the light, bursting through out of his beloved gloom into a single elegant stride. The first thing you noticed was the mask covering the upper half of his face. It blazed white, almost stunning enough to phase out the cracks that permeated its surface. The mask looked delicate enough to shatter with the slightest breath upon its surface, but its fragility only served to further its beauty. The faded maroon paint on its surface fell in graceful curves, but even with that is was unable to disguise the depiction of the demon upon it. The Prestidigitator's teeth were just as white, and just as terrifying as the demon face painted on the mask. His suit was not black as it first appeared, but speckled with small flecks of white. At first glance they looked lint or dust, but as you stared (and you could not fail to do so, not with a visage like that) you became aware of the stars that glowed softly, apparently millions of light years away but still adorning his cloth. His eyes, however, were just as heavily shaded as ever.
He chuckled, and flicked out a white handkerchief. A snake fell from its folds, but the Prestidigitator paid it no heed, instead choosing to address his guests again.
“But where are my manners? I must introduce you all.†He paused to observe his surroundings for a moment, then he snapped his fingers. “But of course! It would be even more terrible of me to restrict you to this dusty room. Let us walk.â€
The room hurriedly peeled itself away, and the guests found themselves wandering along what appeared to be a kind of dry aqueduct, following the Prestidigitator on the dizzyingly high path over the dunes of a moonlit desert. A little of the day's warmth still infiltrated the air, and the wind was soft as it brushed past the contestants. The real stars in the sky blazed unlike any stars the combatants had ever seen before, stunningly fierce against their dark backdrop.
“Look,†the Prestidigitator murmured after a few minutes of the moonlit silence. Helpless to resist, their eyes followed the direction that his finger pointed in, where lofty and proud pagodas gleamed in the distance. They towered and sneered at the own combatants pitiful heights.
“They call it Afterparty, dear contestants.â€
Suddenly, a yowl screamed through the serenity of the moment. Animalistic wails scratched at their calm, and within moments they were infected by fear, regardless of how out of character it may have been.
“And those are the creatures that crawled out of the Lock. They can be irritating sometimes, but I have the utmost faith in your marvelous skills! Either that, or you'll die a horrible, bloody death. Either way is entertaining,†he said casually, shrugging in a similar manner. “But I do need to introduce you. Afterparty is closer than it looks. Or further. Something like that.â€
“This person here in the jet mask is Ripper Blackmask, a sky pirate of all things. Some people know Ripper by a different name; that being Adrian . Note the ostentatious equipment: that's not just for show. Dear Adrian is very nearly the incarnation of materialism, even going so far as to find a way to transfer a love of the shiny and expensive into physical power. Very slick.â€
He slipped back, pushing Adrian to the front of the cue, where he rested his arm over the shoulder of a monk with stitched lips and robed in bland grey. The vials and other miscellaneous objects that hung from his belt clinked softly as he walked.
“Say hello to High Priest Muriegro, and his pincushion. A wonderfully exotic savage from the heart of the Amazon Jungle. He had the favour of a nameless god there, but he was no match for yours truly in terms of power. All the same, don't think of him as a pushover. Muriegro is a bit of husk, if I'll be honest, but he's controlled by the affectionately named La Aguja del Dolor, or the Needle of Pain. It leave it up to you to gauge the full extent of the power locked in that modest shell.â€
Again the Prestidigitator slipped back one through the cue, until it came face to face with a trashcan. He sighed softly, and picked it up, the reassumed his place in the line.
“Speaking of shells, this is Miq. She's lovely. Just look at that smile. No, she's not a trashcan. Have some more respect for my superior skills of choosing. She likes the particular of delicacy of racoon and takes a liking to shiny objects. Underestimate her at your peril.â€
He placed the trashcan down, from which point it resumed its mysterious mode of transport. The pagodas of Afterparty loomed considerably closer, just as another scream pierced the night. A swarm of fireflies drifted in front of him, glowing gorgeously in the darkness. The Prestidigitator sighed in appreciation, and glided after her.
“This cloud of insects is more than meets the eye. Look closer at her divine form, and you'll notice the vague shape of a woman. She was fierce in life, and she's just as antsy in life. Her name is Thatix, and she's lead armies and conquered whole countries in her time. Beware. Not to mention that her fire spells bite like a rabid dog.â€
He slid backwards, and tipped an imaginary hat to a mammoth snake of shadow (at least ten feet long) gliding along the aqueduct. It smiled with numerous jagged teeth, soliciting a similar grin from the Prestidigitator.
“Fifth among you is Syvex. He's another beauty, a creature of the darkness. He's not so good in the light, but he's fantastic out of it. Conditions like this suit him magnificently. And it's not only those teeth you need to worry about. This one teleports, has various projectile attacks and regenerates better than a worm. That's right, you can bisect this bugger and he'll just come right back at you.â€
A short sprint past Syvex' incredible mass led the gracious host to a tall man covered up in a long jacket and hat the same colour of sand. Both tattered and tanned, this was clearly a man of the desert.
“Tamerlane, everyone. Everyone, Tamerlane. Pleased to meet you. This freak of nature has control over dust or, more specifically, sand. He's right at home in the desert, so this is the one to watch this round. Bounty hunter by nature, he's no fish out of water in other environments. Watch out for his katana. There's nothing special about it, but that's not to say he can't split you like a melon with it.â€
Tamerlane received a solid pat on the back from the suited Prestidigitator, before he too was passed on ion front of the host. The next object of his attention was an astoundingly plain woman with muddy brown, short hair. Coupled with her delicate physique, she was battling it out with the trashcan for the least threatening person among the troupe. The Prestidigitator settled for walking alongside her.
“This lovely lady calls herself Eureka Finch. Chuckle if you wish, but she's got complete mastery over cloth and has successfully angered and evaded two major organisations to date. And don't think a lack of clothing makes you any safer. She lugs around whole bales of cloth in those pockets of hers, I swear. Anyway.â€
He slipped back to the final person, who also looked fairly ordinary. Fortunately, his safety goggles hinted at a more impressive occupation than a cloth mage.
“Last but not least, this is Riko, though he's known as Scientist #31 to his superiors. Look at that smile.†There was a distant lack of mirth on the scientist's face. “He messes around with dangerous chemicals, and rather effectively too. And cutting edge weaponry, so cutting edge in fact that it fails to work most of the time. I'll leave you to discover the scientific marvels he's lugging around.†He winked, even though all their eyes were drawn to the looming entrance to Afterparty, mere metres away. He stopped, dropping to the back of the line.
“That's it, I'm afraid. End of the line for me. And it's all up to you now,†he said with a slight tinge of regret, then swung slowly around and began a leisurely stroll back down the aqueduct.
“Oh, and that reminds me,†he shouted back in his usual booming voice, “I haven't told you why you're here yet, have I? Put it this way,†he said, his voice and image beginning to fade into the night.
“No one leaves here until one of you dies!â€
The Prestidigitator smiled slowly at the eight before him and stood to greet them. All of the combatants were frozen in eight of the finest red velvet armchairs the universes had to offer, and those with suitable appendages were clutching a crystal glass of his personal cognac like their life depended upon it. White knuckles were a common sight among the lineup.
“Doubtless, dear combatants, you are wondering what's going on here,†he said in a perfect stage whisper, moving a little closer to the threshold of the shadow, where his fire's light managed to hit the room. He spread his hands, his grin easy and large.
“Why, my dear combatants, it is because you are unique. Impressive, proud and beautiful in your own ways, I have brought you here because, for want of a better term, I want your souls. Or at the very least, to see what they contain.†He lunged forward into the light, bursting through out of his beloved gloom into a single elegant stride. The first thing you noticed was the mask covering the upper half of his face. It blazed white, almost stunning enough to phase out the cracks that permeated its surface. The mask looked delicate enough to shatter with the slightest breath upon its surface, but its fragility only served to further its beauty. The faded maroon paint on its surface fell in graceful curves, but even with that is was unable to disguise the depiction of the demon upon it. The Prestidigitator's teeth were just as white, and just as terrifying as the demon face painted on the mask. His suit was not black as it first appeared, but speckled with small flecks of white. At first glance they looked lint or dust, but as you stared (and you could not fail to do so, not with a visage like that) you became aware of the stars that glowed softly, apparently millions of light years away but still adorning his cloth. His eyes, however, were just as heavily shaded as ever.
He chuckled, and flicked out a white handkerchief. A snake fell from its folds, but the Prestidigitator paid it no heed, instead choosing to address his guests again.
“But where are my manners? I must introduce you all.†He paused to observe his surroundings for a moment, then he snapped his fingers. “But of course! It would be even more terrible of me to restrict you to this dusty room. Let us walk.â€
The room hurriedly peeled itself away, and the guests found themselves wandering along what appeared to be a kind of dry aqueduct, following the Prestidigitator on the dizzyingly high path over the dunes of a moonlit desert. A little of the day's warmth still infiltrated the air, and the wind was soft as it brushed past the contestants. The real stars in the sky blazed unlike any stars the combatants had ever seen before, stunningly fierce against their dark backdrop.
“Look,†the Prestidigitator murmured after a few minutes of the moonlit silence. Helpless to resist, their eyes followed the direction that his finger pointed in, where lofty and proud pagodas gleamed in the distance. They towered and sneered at the own combatants pitiful heights.
“They call it Afterparty, dear contestants.â€
Suddenly, a yowl screamed through the serenity of the moment. Animalistic wails scratched at their calm, and within moments they were infected by fear, regardless of how out of character it may have been.
“And those are the creatures that crawled out of the Lock. They can be irritating sometimes, but I have the utmost faith in your marvelous skills! Either that, or you'll die a horrible, bloody death. Either way is entertaining,†he said casually, shrugging in a similar manner. “But I do need to introduce you. Afterparty is closer than it looks. Or further. Something like that.â€
“This person here in the jet mask is Ripper Blackmask, a sky pirate of all things. Some people know Ripper by a different name; that being Adrian . Note the ostentatious equipment: that's not just for show. Dear Adrian is very nearly the incarnation of materialism, even going so far as to find a way to transfer a love of the shiny and expensive into physical power. Very slick.â€
He slipped back, pushing Adrian to the front of the cue, where he rested his arm over the shoulder of a monk with stitched lips and robed in bland grey. The vials and other miscellaneous objects that hung from his belt clinked softly as he walked.
“Say hello to High Priest Muriegro, and his pincushion. A wonderfully exotic savage from the heart of the Amazon Jungle. He had the favour of a nameless god there, but he was no match for yours truly in terms of power. All the same, don't think of him as a pushover. Muriegro is a bit of husk, if I'll be honest, but he's controlled by the affectionately named La Aguja del Dolor, or the Needle of Pain. It leave it up to you to gauge the full extent of the power locked in that modest shell.â€
Again the Prestidigitator slipped back one through the cue, until it came face to face with a trashcan. He sighed softly, and picked it up, the reassumed his place in the line.
“Speaking of shells, this is Miq. She's lovely. Just look at that smile. No, she's not a trashcan. Have some more respect for my superior skills of choosing. She likes the particular of delicacy of racoon and takes a liking to shiny objects. Underestimate her at your peril.â€
He placed the trashcan down, from which point it resumed its mysterious mode of transport. The pagodas of Afterparty loomed considerably closer, just as another scream pierced the night. A swarm of fireflies drifted in front of him, glowing gorgeously in the darkness. The Prestidigitator sighed in appreciation, and glided after her.
“This cloud of insects is more than meets the eye. Look closer at her divine form, and you'll notice the vague shape of a woman. She was fierce in life, and she's just as antsy in life. Her name is Thatix, and she's lead armies and conquered whole countries in her time. Beware. Not to mention that her fire spells bite like a rabid dog.â€
He slid backwards, and tipped an imaginary hat to a mammoth snake of shadow (at least ten feet long) gliding along the aqueduct. It smiled with numerous jagged teeth, soliciting a similar grin from the Prestidigitator.
“Fifth among you is Syvex. He's another beauty, a creature of the darkness. He's not so good in the light, but he's fantastic out of it. Conditions like this suit him magnificently. And it's not only those teeth you need to worry about. This one teleports, has various projectile attacks and regenerates better than a worm. That's right, you can bisect this bugger and he'll just come right back at you.â€
A short sprint past Syvex' incredible mass led the gracious host to a tall man covered up in a long jacket and hat the same colour of sand. Both tattered and tanned, this was clearly a man of the desert.
“Tamerlane, everyone. Everyone, Tamerlane. Pleased to meet you. This freak of nature has control over dust or, more specifically, sand. He's right at home in the desert, so this is the one to watch this round. Bounty hunter by nature, he's no fish out of water in other environments. Watch out for his katana. There's nothing special about it, but that's not to say he can't split you like a melon with it.â€
Tamerlane received a solid pat on the back from the suited Prestidigitator, before he too was passed on ion front of the host. The next object of his attention was an astoundingly plain woman with muddy brown, short hair. Coupled with her delicate physique, she was battling it out with the trashcan for the least threatening person among the troupe. The Prestidigitator settled for walking alongside her.
“This lovely lady calls herself Eureka Finch. Chuckle if you wish, but she's got complete mastery over cloth and has successfully angered and evaded two major organisations to date. And don't think a lack of clothing makes you any safer. She lugs around whole bales of cloth in those pockets of hers, I swear. Anyway.â€
He slipped back to the final person, who also looked fairly ordinary. Fortunately, his safety goggles hinted at a more impressive occupation than a cloth mage.
“Last but not least, this is Riko, though he's known as Scientist #31 to his superiors. Look at that smile.†There was a distant lack of mirth on the scientist's face. “He messes around with dangerous chemicals, and rather effectively too. And cutting edge weaponry, so cutting edge in fact that it fails to work most of the time. I'll leave you to discover the scientific marvels he's lugging around.†He winked, even though all their eyes were drawn to the looming entrance to Afterparty, mere metres away. He stopped, dropping to the back of the line.
“That's it, I'm afraid. End of the line for me. And it's all up to you now,†he said with a slight tinge of regret, then swung slowly around and began a leisurely stroll back down the aqueduct.
“Oh, and that reminds me,†he shouted back in his usual booming voice, “I haven't told you why you're here yet, have I? Put it this way,†he said, his voice and image beginning to fade into the night.
“No one leaves here until one of you dies!â€