Re: Mini-Grand 5106 [Round 2: The Graben]
08-29-2011, 01:04 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Protoman.
Mattilus landed in this strange land with a slight thump. He was in a grove, surrounded by trees that, though numerous, were widely spaced. For this, he was thankful. It helped to preclude the possibility of a sneak attack while still giving him plenty of vantage points from which to gaze. The mage looked down at his feet, hoping to grasp his rather large tom----
"Oh shit."
-----
Far, far away, a tribal warrior was looking at a strange object. It had a hard surface, but the center was formed of many floppy, easily torn and crumpled sheets. Images were written on these sheets, almost seeming like the letters his tribe used to carve out messages, but the glyphs it contained were incredibly alien to him.
Just as he was prepared to throw the book into the river and try to regroup with his troop, he heard a rustle in the bush behind him, followed by a loud roar.
No time to think. No time to hesitate. The tribesman spun around with the book, a sharp pain piercing his shoulder, the pain of a spear, a pain he had felt before. The spear pushed on and on, piercing the flesh, approaching bone. He would've cried out had it not been for the loud crack that stopped the pain where it stood. Looking up, he saw the book had smashed into a rival tribesman's skull. His opponent slumped, fell, bleeding from his head. The warrior looked down at the heavy object. It had saved him. He tucked the strange object under his arm. If nothing else, he could present it to the elders. Perhaps they would even declare it a gift of the gods. He wandered off, heading towards the faint echo of his tribe's war song.
-----
"Oh god this isn't good."
Mattilus was panicking. It had been many years since he was without any access to magic in such a dangerous situation. Soon enough, the chix would be breathing down his neck, and he questioned whether or not Naiima's loyalty would stay with him if he lost his mastery of winter. He might be able to handle the girls, despite being outnumbered, but the spider was a different story. The way it had just torn the head off that android was... astonishing, to say the least. A worthy ally and a formidable opponent.
He smiled to himself slightly at the thought of the android's death. He was lucky for that. One more opponent down, one less threat to face. One step closer to freedom, one step farther from doom.
The spellweaver climbed into a tree and started thinking back. Where had he lost the book? As he started racking his memory for an answer, the tree he was in shook slightly, a certain chik running past it and jumping into the river the fighters had been explicitly told not to enter.
The mage sighed and adjusted his glasses. It was going to be a long battle.
Mattilus landed in this strange land with a slight thump. He was in a grove, surrounded by trees that, though numerous, were widely spaced. For this, he was thankful. It helped to preclude the possibility of a sneak attack while still giving him plenty of vantage points from which to gaze. The mage looked down at his feet, hoping to grasp his rather large tom----
"Oh shit."
-----
Far, far away, a tribal warrior was looking at a strange object. It had a hard surface, but the center was formed of many floppy, easily torn and crumpled sheets. Images were written on these sheets, almost seeming like the letters his tribe used to carve out messages, but the glyphs it contained were incredibly alien to him.
Just as he was prepared to throw the book into the river and try to regroup with his troop, he heard a rustle in the bush behind him, followed by a loud roar.
No time to think. No time to hesitate. The tribesman spun around with the book, a sharp pain piercing his shoulder, the pain of a spear, a pain he had felt before. The spear pushed on and on, piercing the flesh, approaching bone. He would've cried out had it not been for the loud crack that stopped the pain where it stood. Looking up, he saw the book had smashed into a rival tribesman's skull. His opponent slumped, fell, bleeding from his head. The warrior looked down at the heavy object. It had saved him. He tucked the strange object under his arm. If nothing else, he could present it to the elders. Perhaps they would even declare it a gift of the gods. He wandered off, heading towards the faint echo of his tribe's war song.
-----
"Oh god this isn't good."
Mattilus was panicking. It had been many years since he was without any access to magic in such a dangerous situation. Soon enough, the chix would be breathing down his neck, and he questioned whether or not Naiima's loyalty would stay with him if he lost his mastery of winter. He might be able to handle the girls, despite being outnumbered, but the spider was a different story. The way it had just torn the head off that android was... astonishing, to say the least. A worthy ally and a formidable opponent.
He smiled to himself slightly at the thought of the android's death. He was lucky for that. One more opponent down, one less threat to face. One step closer to freedom, one step farther from doom.
The spellweaver climbed into a tree and started thinking back. Where had he lost the book? As he started racking his memory for an answer, the tree he was in shook slightly, a certain chik running past it and jumping into the river the fighters had been explicitly told not to enter.
The mage sighed and adjusted his glasses. It was going to be a long battle.