Re: The Phenomenal Fracas! (GBS2G6): [Round Four: The Warped Edifice]
07-29-2011, 01:54 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by MalkyTop.
Eureka didn’t fool around with doing something like looking to see if her meat cleaver really was still not there or if her magnificent powers over cloth really was a tad bit underwhelming at the moment because any time spent not looking around for other people to fool around with was time spent not having very morbid fun. She might be able to just deal with anything that came her way with her bare hands, and if not, then there was improvised weapons to be had with…whatever was in this room.
What was in this room? This probably warranted some investigation.
The room was made of dented bronze, meaning that Eureka’s twisty, lanky reflection stared back at her from the walls. Strangely enough, every piece of furniture and decoration seemed very intent on camouflaging perfectly and it took a while for her to even stumble across something not attached to anything else. There was something she bumped her shin against that seemed like some sort of bronze desk. Or at least some sort of large bronze flat elevated surface. Then there was something that might have been a bronze potted plant (she cut herself on it and decorated her face with cute, bloody little smiles and flowers and whee). There was another bronze elevated flat surface that had a bronze thing that sat on top and she swung it around for a while, very impressed with its weight and some other technical term. But basically, she could hit people with it.
For some reason, she entertained the thought of hiding behind some bronze and waiting for someone else to drop by, but she punted that train of thought off the rails because of the word ‘waiting’ and so she just fumbled around for a doorknob.
In fact, if she wanted to make some new ~~frieeeeeeeeeends~~, maybe she should make it easier to find them.
“Helllooooooooo,” she called out, her voice somehow twisting into something childish and high-pitched, a tone of voice she would have previously thought impossible and irritating. Actually, she still thought it irritating.
With some amount of triumph, she pushed open the door and moved into a room that was remarkably like the last one, only the walls were bright pink and everything else was made of chocolate. Having seen (or felt) the room before, Eureka just moved on to the now easily-seen door. “Hellooooo, frieeeeeend, come oooooout, let’s make nice before you die! It’ll be an accident, probably! Heeeeelllooooooo!”
She couldn’t help but break off some chocolate and as she scarfed one piece of chocolate desk down, she waved another piece wildly in the air. “I have chocolaaaaaate! There’s sooooo much chocolate here! Let’s make s’mores! Friends do that! If we can’t find firewood, maybe we can use yoooouuu, friiieeeeend!”
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Pulling together a good ol’ revolution was still satisfying, but as the omnipotent pincushion set eyes (sort of?) on the Prestidigitator again, he remembered he had strayed a bit far from his original plan of killing him and anybody involved with him. Of course, it wasn’t like many opportunities were presenting themselves and it generally wasn’t a very good idea to barge screaming at the Game Master with no other plan than to break anything that was immediately reachable, as well as breakable.
No plan was readily forming, which was frustrating, but Laguja did recognize an all-in-one opportunity-pride-carelessness blob the size of a city when it heard about, ah, say, the knife that could kill anybody. It was almost laughably overkill. And a tad suspicious.
It’d be stupid to ignore such a weapon, but also stupid to try to lead the attack. As usual, the pin cushion found that the best solution was to give it to someone else he reasonably trusted to not shit up anything and stand back and experiment a bit.
There were two problems, though. For one, despite the chaos, Laguja had felt one of the most malleable minds snuff out. Riko was dead, he was at least somewhat sure (not too surprising), and thus any mind malarkey would have to be done upon the less suitable ones that were remaining. He would have to search one of the other contestants out and see which one could actually be to his advantage.
The second problem was infuriatingly frustrating and it stemmed from the ‘search one of the others out’ thing – the power loss. He couldn’t really sense any minds. And though he hadn’t tried yet, all his mind tricks were probably down the tubes as well, which made the whole skeleton-of-a-plan pretty damn useless unless he could use what paltry persuasion powers he had left to manipulate or if one of the others happened to be willing to associate with him and trust him enough to try his ideas out. Considering his previous record with the others, which involved not talking to them at all, looking a bit creepy sometimes, and fighting one of them, he wasn’t very optimistic about this.
He suddenly heard very light-hearted singing. Lyrics bounced around in the air, speaking of funtimes and friendships and games and death. The singer was delightfully insane and very open-minded about the idea of violence.
Well, he supposed he oughta start somewhere.
Muriegro finally moved, ears straining to follow the muffled music. If he was thinking anything at all, the pincushion certainly didn’t know.
Eureka didn’t fool around with doing something like looking to see if her meat cleaver really was still not there or if her magnificent powers over cloth really was a tad bit underwhelming at the moment because any time spent not looking around for other people to fool around with was time spent not having very morbid fun. She might be able to just deal with anything that came her way with her bare hands, and if not, then there was improvised weapons to be had with…whatever was in this room.
What was in this room? This probably warranted some investigation.
The room was made of dented bronze, meaning that Eureka’s twisty, lanky reflection stared back at her from the walls. Strangely enough, every piece of furniture and decoration seemed very intent on camouflaging perfectly and it took a while for her to even stumble across something not attached to anything else. There was something she bumped her shin against that seemed like some sort of bronze desk. Or at least some sort of large bronze flat elevated surface. Then there was something that might have been a bronze potted plant (she cut herself on it and decorated her face with cute, bloody little smiles and flowers and whee). There was another bronze elevated flat surface that had a bronze thing that sat on top and she swung it around for a while, very impressed with its weight and some other technical term. But basically, she could hit people with it.
For some reason, she entertained the thought of hiding behind some bronze and waiting for someone else to drop by, but she punted that train of thought off the rails because of the word ‘waiting’ and so she just fumbled around for a doorknob.
In fact, if she wanted to make some new ~~frieeeeeeeeeends~~, maybe she should make it easier to find them.
“Helllooooooooo,” she called out, her voice somehow twisting into something childish and high-pitched, a tone of voice she would have previously thought impossible and irritating. Actually, she still thought it irritating.
With some amount of triumph, she pushed open the door and moved into a room that was remarkably like the last one, only the walls were bright pink and everything else was made of chocolate. Having seen (or felt) the room before, Eureka just moved on to the now easily-seen door. “Hellooooo, frieeeeeend, come oooooout, let’s make nice before you die! It’ll be an accident, probably! Heeeeelllooooooo!”
She couldn’t help but break off some chocolate and as she scarfed one piece of chocolate desk down, she waved another piece wildly in the air. “I have chocolaaaaaate! There’s sooooo much chocolate here! Let’s make s’mores! Friends do that! If we can’t find firewood, maybe we can use yoooouuu, friiieeeeend!”
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Pulling together a good ol’ revolution was still satisfying, but as the omnipotent pincushion set eyes (sort of?) on the Prestidigitator again, he remembered he had strayed a bit far from his original plan of killing him and anybody involved with him. Of course, it wasn’t like many opportunities were presenting themselves and it generally wasn’t a very good idea to barge screaming at the Game Master with no other plan than to break anything that was immediately reachable, as well as breakable.
No plan was readily forming, which was frustrating, but Laguja did recognize an all-in-one opportunity-pride-carelessness blob the size of a city when it heard about, ah, say, the knife that could kill anybody. It was almost laughably overkill. And a tad suspicious.
It’d be stupid to ignore such a weapon, but also stupid to try to lead the attack. As usual, the pin cushion found that the best solution was to give it to someone else he reasonably trusted to not shit up anything and stand back and experiment a bit.
There were two problems, though. For one, despite the chaos, Laguja had felt one of the most malleable minds snuff out. Riko was dead, he was at least somewhat sure (not too surprising), and thus any mind malarkey would have to be done upon the less suitable ones that were remaining. He would have to search one of the other contestants out and see which one could actually be to his advantage.
The second problem was infuriatingly frustrating and it stemmed from the ‘search one of the others out’ thing – the power loss. He couldn’t really sense any minds. And though he hadn’t tried yet, all his mind tricks were probably down the tubes as well, which made the whole skeleton-of-a-plan pretty damn useless unless he could use what paltry persuasion powers he had left to manipulate or if one of the others happened to be willing to associate with him and trust him enough to try his ideas out. Considering his previous record with the others, which involved not talking to them at all, looking a bit creepy sometimes, and fighting one of them, he wasn’t very optimistic about this.
He suddenly heard very light-hearted singing. Lyrics bounced around in the air, speaking of funtimes and friendships and games and death. The singer was delightfully insane and very open-minded about the idea of violence.
Well, he supposed he oughta start somewhere.
Muriegro finally moved, ears straining to follow the muffled music. If he was thinking anything at all, the pincushion certainly didn’t know.