Re: The Phenomenal Fracas! (GBS2G6): [Round One: Afterparty]
08-19-2010, 11:59 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Ixcalibur.
Thatix stared in disbelief as Chancellor Finch vanished in a swirl of black and blue energy. This wasn’t making sense. Chancellor Finch was a competent magician, clearly, but her forte had always been weather manipulation and control of electricity, Thatix was having a hard time understanding why she had suddenly segued into manipulation of bandages since as a battle strategy that sounded… well… like something she would come up with; insane. And if bandage control wasn’t stretching believability far enough then teleportation definitely was. Thatix considered the possibility that the inevitable brain damage from Chancellor Finch’s painful crushing of some of her fireflies had kicked in and it was somehow blocking perception of the Chancellor.
“Don’t think you can fool me by pretending you aren’t there!” she exclaimed. “I am Thatix The Mighty! I know all! I see all! I am all…?” She wasn’t sure that that last one actually worked but ugh whatever. Thinking is hard when you are fireflies. Thatix loosed another fireball in what she considered was probably Finch’s direction, causing the bartender to raise a perplexed eyebrow. As Thatix slung fireballs at the textilourge who was no longer there, some small part of her brain, probably contained with a single firefly, insisted that the whole brain damage that caused her to be unable to perceive Chancellor Finch was just about the least likely thing that had ever happened, and by quite a wide margin, or that alternately she should look for other explanations. Thatix unformed, becoming a cloud and beginning to swirl thoughtfully, oblivious to the damage that she had caused in the bar.
The bartender had been rather bemused at the preceding activities. The fighting he could at least understand, the pointless flinging of fireballs at a wall somewhat less so. He considered that now that the cloud of fireflies had stopped being aggressive now was the best time to ask it to settle its tab, and stepping over the charred and broken furniture he approached Thatix’s glowing shape, and told her how much she owed him.
The figure was enough to send Thatix’s mind spiralling down a useless avenue of thought, one that contemplated the disparity in both the value and type of currency used while she had been gone and which ultimately culminated in Thatix deciding that the currency in her new world order would be called a That. Reasonably satisfied with her decision she scrutinised the bartender, attempting to remember what this freak with all the horns wanted.
“Technically you owe me even more than that for breaking up the fight between you and your friend.” The bartender added. “I actually wasn’t going to charge for that as I was labouring under the assumption that if you didn’t have somebody to attack you would stop attacking, but evidently that is a silly assumption to make.” Thatix’s mind wandered briefly during the middle of the bartender’s passive-aggressive demand for financial compensation, but returned in time to catch the implication that he had been behind Eureka’s sudden disappearance. Her mind reeled as she tried to figure out where this bartender fitted into the whole civil war thing that was going on here. It didn’t make sense that the Council would hold a war in a populated area with potential innocent targets; therefore he was clearly a combatant. Suddenly it clicked this was no bartender. This was a very well disguised Mr Slant; Chancellor Finch’s personal secretary and bodyguard, who Thatix had been sure had died back in the war, but then again so had she and here she was. Maybe death wasn’t quite as permanent as most people would have you believe. Whatever, he was here, the how wasn’t really important. Thatix reformed in front of the disguised Mister Slant, a smile invisibly spread across her face.
“Do you remember how I killed you last time Slanty? Oh boy that sure was fun.” She says, mischievously. “How about an encore?” Hot plumes of fire burst forth from Thatix’s vaguely defined limbs, spiralling lazily through the air culminating in burning hot shackles that pulled themselves taut around Mr Slant’s strangely spindly arms. Slant seemed completely unfazed by the flaming manacles, regarding them as cursory annoyances. Thatix, somewhat perturbed by this development pulled the manacles in opposite directions; the killing blow, or at least the grievously wounding blow, although people don’t tend to last very long when their extremities have been pulled from their bodies by burning hot manacles. However when she did it this time, instead of the delightful sound of ripping flesh she was met with the disappointed sound of Slant nervously clearing his throat, as the manacles slid straight off his hands.
“So…” he continued. “About the bill?”
“Oh yes of course!” Thatix exclaimed. “Obviously you’ve come up with a defence for that specific attack, after all it is what I killed you with last time. Someone would have to be a fool not to come up with a counter for the attack that killed them, when given another chance at life. Actually…” Thatix paused, wondering what precisely the attack that had killed her had been, and how to best develop a defence against it.
“Actually I think I’ll probably go and ask ‘that pirate guy’ for payment instead.” Mister Slant said. Thatix’s attention snapped back to Slant who was attempting a tactical retreat, probably heading after Chancellor Finch.
“Wait!” she called after him. “I’ve got your ‘payment’ right here.” She flashed an imperceptible grin at the horned Mr Slant, and tossed a volley of fireballs at him. They sailed through the air, and slammed into Finch’s bodyguard whereupon they fizzled on impact; warped elsewhere. “Oh a wise guy eh?” Thatix said, launching further fireballs at him. When these failed to make an impact she screamed and yelled “Why won’t you die?!” before impatiently showering him with everything she had. Even the hardiest of shields would buckle eventually. Fire arced through the air, launched at the bartender from all sides, and in honesty he was breaking a sweat under this continuous inexplicable assault. The noises coming from Thatix were no longer classifiable as words, more guttural roars borne of animalistic fury. She focused all of her energy into one attack, unleashing it as she screamed bloody murder at the alarmingly powerful Mr Slant.
It managed to connect, and the bar exploded.
Thatix stared in disbelief as Chancellor Finch vanished in a swirl of black and blue energy. This wasn’t making sense. Chancellor Finch was a competent magician, clearly, but her forte had always been weather manipulation and control of electricity, Thatix was having a hard time understanding why she had suddenly segued into manipulation of bandages since as a battle strategy that sounded… well… like something she would come up with; insane. And if bandage control wasn’t stretching believability far enough then teleportation definitely was. Thatix considered the possibility that the inevitable brain damage from Chancellor Finch’s painful crushing of some of her fireflies had kicked in and it was somehow blocking perception of the Chancellor.
“Don’t think you can fool me by pretending you aren’t there!” she exclaimed. “I am Thatix The Mighty! I know all! I see all! I am all…?” She wasn’t sure that that last one actually worked but ugh whatever. Thinking is hard when you are fireflies. Thatix loosed another fireball in what she considered was probably Finch’s direction, causing the bartender to raise a perplexed eyebrow. As Thatix slung fireballs at the textilourge who was no longer there, some small part of her brain, probably contained with a single firefly, insisted that the whole brain damage that caused her to be unable to perceive Chancellor Finch was just about the least likely thing that had ever happened, and by quite a wide margin, or that alternately she should look for other explanations. Thatix unformed, becoming a cloud and beginning to swirl thoughtfully, oblivious to the damage that she had caused in the bar.
The bartender had been rather bemused at the preceding activities. The fighting he could at least understand, the pointless flinging of fireballs at a wall somewhat less so. He considered that now that the cloud of fireflies had stopped being aggressive now was the best time to ask it to settle its tab, and stepping over the charred and broken furniture he approached Thatix’s glowing shape, and told her how much she owed him.
The figure was enough to send Thatix’s mind spiralling down a useless avenue of thought, one that contemplated the disparity in both the value and type of currency used while she had been gone and which ultimately culminated in Thatix deciding that the currency in her new world order would be called a That. Reasonably satisfied with her decision she scrutinised the bartender, attempting to remember what this freak with all the horns wanted.
“Technically you owe me even more than that for breaking up the fight between you and your friend.” The bartender added. “I actually wasn’t going to charge for that as I was labouring under the assumption that if you didn’t have somebody to attack you would stop attacking, but evidently that is a silly assumption to make.” Thatix’s mind wandered briefly during the middle of the bartender’s passive-aggressive demand for financial compensation, but returned in time to catch the implication that he had been behind Eureka’s sudden disappearance. Her mind reeled as she tried to figure out where this bartender fitted into the whole civil war thing that was going on here. It didn’t make sense that the Council would hold a war in a populated area with potential innocent targets; therefore he was clearly a combatant. Suddenly it clicked this was no bartender. This was a very well disguised Mr Slant; Chancellor Finch’s personal secretary and bodyguard, who Thatix had been sure had died back in the war, but then again so had she and here she was. Maybe death wasn’t quite as permanent as most people would have you believe. Whatever, he was here, the how wasn’t really important. Thatix reformed in front of the disguised Mister Slant, a smile invisibly spread across her face.
“Do you remember how I killed you last time Slanty? Oh boy that sure was fun.” She says, mischievously. “How about an encore?” Hot plumes of fire burst forth from Thatix’s vaguely defined limbs, spiralling lazily through the air culminating in burning hot shackles that pulled themselves taut around Mr Slant’s strangely spindly arms. Slant seemed completely unfazed by the flaming manacles, regarding them as cursory annoyances. Thatix, somewhat perturbed by this development pulled the manacles in opposite directions; the killing blow, or at least the grievously wounding blow, although people don’t tend to last very long when their extremities have been pulled from their bodies by burning hot manacles. However when she did it this time, instead of the delightful sound of ripping flesh she was met with the disappointed sound of Slant nervously clearing his throat, as the manacles slid straight off his hands.
“So…” he continued. “About the bill?”
“Oh yes of course!” Thatix exclaimed. “Obviously you’ve come up with a defence for that specific attack, after all it is what I killed you with last time. Someone would have to be a fool not to come up with a counter for the attack that killed them, when given another chance at life. Actually…” Thatix paused, wondering what precisely the attack that had killed her had been, and how to best develop a defence against it.
“Actually I think I’ll probably go and ask ‘that pirate guy’ for payment instead.” Mister Slant said. Thatix’s attention snapped back to Slant who was attempting a tactical retreat, probably heading after Chancellor Finch.
“Wait!” she called after him. “I’ve got your ‘payment’ right here.” She flashed an imperceptible grin at the horned Mr Slant, and tossed a volley of fireballs at him. They sailed through the air, and slammed into Finch’s bodyguard whereupon they fizzled on impact; warped elsewhere. “Oh a wise guy eh?” Thatix said, launching further fireballs at him. When these failed to make an impact she screamed and yelled “Why won’t you die?!” before impatiently showering him with everything she had. Even the hardiest of shields would buckle eventually. Fire arced through the air, launched at the bartender from all sides, and in honesty he was breaking a sweat under this continuous inexplicable assault. The noises coming from Thatix were no longer classifiable as words, more guttural roars borne of animalistic fury. She focused all of her energy into one attack, unleashing it as she screamed bloody murder at the alarmingly powerful Mr Slant.
It managed to connect, and the bar exploded.
Heaven Help Us | Make Room!!!! | I'm Not Okay (I Promise)
Hang 'Em High | The Only Hope For Me Is You | Zero Percent | Early Sunsets Over Monroeville | DESTROYA | Demolition Lovers | To The End
Surrender The Night | Disenchanted | The Ghost Of You | Party Poison | Vampires Will Never Hurt You | The Jetset Life Is Gonna Kill You
Hang 'Em High | The Only Hope For Me Is You | Zero Percent | Early Sunsets Over Monroeville | DESTROYA | Demolition Lovers | To The End
Surrender The Night | Disenchanted | The Ghost Of You | Party Poison | Vampires Will Never Hurt You | The Jetset Life Is Gonna Kill You