Re: The Phenomenal Fracas! (GBS2G6): [Round One: Afterparty]
07-16-2010, 05:44 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by granolaman.
Tamerlane dwelt on what the Prestidigitator had said. “No one leaves here until one of you dies.†What did it mean? Was this merely a contest? A game? Did this all-powerful man go to so much trouble to hunt down men and women for no purpose other than gladiatorial combat? He didn't have time for this. The King had given him a mission to complete and the King is not a man to be kept waiting. Those that defied the King end up dead, or worse. Tamerlane shuddered at the thought of those who weren't given their sweet release. Thank the gods the King couldn't get his family.
Family… Tamerlane's mind flashed to memories of a moonlit caravan. Broken bodies strewn everywhere, his parent's throats slashed through and his own hand holding the knife. A cackling mind-mover standing over the young boy as the realization of what he'd done crawls onto his face. That laugh, that insane laughter… The pain became unbearable, the boy's scream sounded across the desert.
Wait a minute, these aren't my memories. Tamerlane snapped back to reality, a cold sweat forming on his body. A nightmare, I've let my mind wander and the other contestants have already begun their attack. He glanced across the arena. Before him, a towering city reflected the moon's pale light, below him, the vast expanses of a desert stretched beyond the horizon. His attention turned to the contenders. Most of them had already wandered into the city; only the swarm of glowing insects and the trash bin remained. I've let myself be distracted. I have the battlefield advantage; I should have killed one of them by now instead of playing catch-up. He looked across the edge of the aqueduct. It was quite the long distance to the sandy dunes; his powers couldn't extend that far and it would take too long to climb down. Along the walkway, piles of sand had been swept up and deposited by the wind. I'll have to settle with this for now. It'll be more than enough to dispose with either of these entities.
Tamerlane concentrated his mind and focused his willpower. The sand began to twist into the air towards his hand. The grains slid up his sleeve and settled along his arm, enveloping it and securing themselves tightly. Around his fist, the sand started taking the form of an enormous scythe head as wide as his shoulders, as long as his leg and as sharp as a blade. He took care to move the sand slowly, trying not to agitate his arm, already raw from his encounters earlier today.
Now the swarm was yelling at the bin. An odd sight indeed, but it showed that the swarm was at least cognitive. Neither of these things seemed to be the cause of the memory (my memory?), but Tamerlane was pressed for time and couldn't go hunting down the one responsible, he'd just have to let it go, for now. Of the two before him, the trash can seemed the easiest target, and the cloud of insects had already grown increasingly angered towards it. Bad luck, mimic, Tamerlane began walking towards the dispute. Tendrils of sand flicked up at his coattail as the blade finished materializing. But the King is waiting and I cannot return until one of you is dead. And the King is not a man to be kept waiting.
Tamerlane dwelt on what the Prestidigitator had said. “No one leaves here until one of you dies.†What did it mean? Was this merely a contest? A game? Did this all-powerful man go to so much trouble to hunt down men and women for no purpose other than gladiatorial combat? He didn't have time for this. The King had given him a mission to complete and the King is not a man to be kept waiting. Those that defied the King end up dead, or worse. Tamerlane shuddered at the thought of those who weren't given their sweet release. Thank the gods the King couldn't get his family.
Family… Tamerlane's mind flashed to memories of a moonlit caravan. Broken bodies strewn everywhere, his parent's throats slashed through and his own hand holding the knife. A cackling mind-mover standing over the young boy as the realization of what he'd done crawls onto his face. That laugh, that insane laughter… The pain became unbearable, the boy's scream sounded across the desert.
Wait a minute, these aren't my memories. Tamerlane snapped back to reality, a cold sweat forming on his body. A nightmare, I've let my mind wander and the other contestants have already begun their attack. He glanced across the arena. Before him, a towering city reflected the moon's pale light, below him, the vast expanses of a desert stretched beyond the horizon. His attention turned to the contenders. Most of them had already wandered into the city; only the swarm of glowing insects and the trash bin remained. I've let myself be distracted. I have the battlefield advantage; I should have killed one of them by now instead of playing catch-up. He looked across the edge of the aqueduct. It was quite the long distance to the sandy dunes; his powers couldn't extend that far and it would take too long to climb down. Along the walkway, piles of sand had been swept up and deposited by the wind. I'll have to settle with this for now. It'll be more than enough to dispose with either of these entities.
Tamerlane concentrated his mind and focused his willpower. The sand began to twist into the air towards his hand. The grains slid up his sleeve and settled along his arm, enveloping it and securing themselves tightly. Around his fist, the sand started taking the form of an enormous scythe head as wide as his shoulders, as long as his leg and as sharp as a blade. He took care to move the sand slowly, trying not to agitate his arm, already raw from his encounters earlier today.
Now the swarm was yelling at the bin. An odd sight indeed, but it showed that the swarm was at least cognitive. Neither of these things seemed to be the cause of the memory (my memory?), but Tamerlane was pressed for time and couldn't go hunting down the one responsible, he'd just have to let it go, for now. Of the two before him, the trash can seemed the easiest target, and the cloud of insects had already grown increasingly angered towards it. Bad luck, mimic, Tamerlane began walking towards the dispute. Tendrils of sand flicked up at his coattail as the blade finished materializing. But the King is waiting and I cannot return until one of you is dead. And the King is not a man to be kept waiting.