Re: Intense Struggle! (Round 6 - Frozen Destinies)
08-19-2012, 04:11 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Lord Paradise.
”We’re back!” cried the Lord of Skulls, like he’d been waiting eons to say it. “Now, can either of you tell me what the hells happened?”
Clearly everything had not gone according to plan. LoS’ warlock skeleton legion reconstituted itself in a jumbling heap while, on the other side of the portal (which was no longer a portal, or else everything was a portal now) Commandrix Saga’s homo infantrius soldiers were frantically ripping off their power armor just to feel the air on their own bodies again. The Commandrix looked upon them with scorn, then turned to LoS. “Is it safe to say we caused this?” she asked.
“Bah!” declared the Lord. “Safe to say you caused this! The perfection of my portal spell was carved in my own blood! The gods themselves fortold my ascent into your world! These portents are far more reliable than your much-vaunted ‘computer projections.’”
The Commandrix smirked. “I’m sure your gods are powerful, but even they can’t ensure your success with a margin of error of one-raised-to-the-negative-one-millionth percent. My portal worked as well as anything in the history of my planet has ever worked, ever, and I paid a lot more than three drops of blood to get it that way!”
“Well then,” growled LoS, “Obviously this was Carl’s fault!”
Both of the would-be conquerors glared at Carl on the third side of the portal. Carl shrugged. “I built my portal exactly according to Ms. Saga’s specifications,” he explained to LoS, pointing a finger at the Commandrix. “We had some materials issues, but the fundamental principles apply—“
“Fundamental principles?” demanded Saga, hitting Carl over the head with her helmet. “As in, the fundamental principle of ‘thing from universe goes to other universe?’ Gee, well, Carl, you sure got that figured out. What you forgot to specify was whether or not you’d be teleporting all three universes in the process!”
“And now instead of three universes ripe for conquest,” added LoS, “We have one diminished madhouse that will be impossible to control! And this may merely be the beginning!”
“But he didn’t bring everything along,” reminded Commandrix Saga. “No, he forgot about the t-dimension, which is why the tri-world ended up frozen the way it was. That we’re experiencing time again now suggests a change from outside, and best guess is it’s the temporal-entropic death of the multiverse, so, you know... nice going, Carl.”
“I still don’t think it was—“ Carl was interrupted by a burst of gunfire as one of his mercenaries began firing at LoS’ skeletons from across the cave. “Guys, cut that out,” Carl shouted weakly. Carl had the largest numbers, for a couple of reasons. Firstly, he was understandably less confident about the capability of a handful of machine guns to conquer and subjugate an entire magical realm than the Lord of Skulls was about his undead warlock armada’s ability to lay waste to a society that knew nothing of magic, or Commandrix Saga was about her genetically-enhanced supersoldiers’ qualifications to destroy a primitive fossil-fuel-based Type Zero civilization. To correct for this lack of certainty, he had gone a little overboard with his recruitment drive. Secondly, said recruitment drive was remarkably successful; Carl had bragged to his co-conspirators via crossdimensional radio about how his world was “culturally poised to produce thousands of angry trigger-happy sociopaths with a raging desire to kill goblins and have sex with elves.”
He had not bragged about his training program, because it hadn’t gone over well. About a dozen skeletons made some half-hearted gestures and contained the offending soldier in a Pacifist’s Circle, leaving him to think very hard about what he’d done. “It’s no matter,” sighed LoS after a time. “Blame will not fix our worlds, or our plans. Even if we could undo what we have done, the damage done to our worlds is likely irreparable. Who knows what the surface may look like right now?”
“I do,” volunteered a homo infantrus, running up to the portal. “Commandrix Saga, ma’am,” he greeted awkwardly. “General. Uh... Lord of Skulls, sir. The normal data clouds are down, but some sky-truckers still have their old ham routers running, and they’re running video feeds. Here—“ The super-soldier projected a horrifying scene of chaos and violence onto the wall.
“Yeah, my portal didn’t do that,” insisted Carl meekly. “Almost definitely.”
“There’s more,” said the infantrus. “Some of these sky-truckers are equipped with temporal barometers, for when they’re carrying quantum-sensitive cargo, and they’re all saying the same thing.”
“That this world of incongruities will not last,” volunteered LoS. “The darkness will swallow us all. We have more than an hour, less than two.”
“What he said,” agreed the infantrus.
“That will be all, soldier,” mumbled Commandrix Saga, lost in thought. Then she turned to the other two. “Well, gentlemen, as much as I hate to say it, we’re now in the world-saving business.”
Carl scratched his forehead. “I think this problem defies a technological solution.”
“Though Carl’s idea of a ‘technological solution’ is explosives and electrical tape, I have to agree. Lord of Skulls, I defer to your expertise.”
The Lord of Skulls shook his lavishly-adorned, impressively-bearded head. “My magic can save anything from destruction,” he said. “But only if something else is sacrificed. When everything is threatened, I have nothing with which to bargain.”
There was a long and fruitful silence. During this time, nobody entered the cave and said, “Unless you sacrifice someone from outside all of your universes. An intruder, brought here by a confluence of events beyond all our ken.”
“Unless,” said the Lord of Skulls after the silence had concluded, “We sacrifice someone from outside all of our universes. An intruder, brought here by a confluence of events beyond all our ken.”
“We don’t have anyone like that,” answered Carl. “Do you?”
“I do not,” confessed LoS.
“I do,” nobody said.
“But she does,” accused LoS, pointing at nobody in particular.
“I do?” asked the Commandrix.
“No, I do,” said no one.
“Ah.”
“What?” Carl was confused, and slightly turned on.
“One foreign being won’t do to save three worlds,” said LoS, addressing the nothingness. “We’ll need three, at least.”
“Our prisoner may have companions,” nothing answered. “My associate is working on tracking the energy signature that brought her here, which will enable them to track any others. In exchange for all three of your sacrifices, we will require the use of this spot to enable us to warp back to our own home.”
“Your own home, you say,” smirked the Commander. “So your associates are extrauniversal entities as well.”
“I never said that,” giggled nothing, and she was right—she hadn’t said anything at all, because she didn’t exist. “In any case, my associates represent an organization you don’t want on your bad side. You do this our way, and everyone’s happy.”
“Who are you talking to?” asked Carl.
“No one,” dismissed the Lord of Skulls. “Very well,” he told that no-one. “Bring us our three sacrifices and you may use our portal... although you should know, Carl’s part of it doesn’t work.”
“We don’t need your apparatus, just the space,” was not anybody’s reply. “We could also use your resources. Say, a hundred troops from each of your armies, plus enough aerial vehicles to transport them.”
“That is acceptable,” said the Commandrix. With a flick of the interface on her armor, Saga lit up one hundred soldiers’ helmets. “Everyone I just pinged, you now serve no one. Do not take this to mean that you are relieved from duty.” The soldiers, who were quicker on the uptake than Carl, simply saluted. “Pilots up front. Get to the hangars.”
“You one hundred,” called the Lord of Skulls, waving vaguely at one corner of his army. “You and your dragons work for nobody now. Make me proud.” The skeletons obediently set off towards the dragon cages.
Carl still had no idea what was going on, but felt obliged to follow suit. “You’re all free!” he explained to his army. “Go forth and live your—“
One of his soldiers shot Carl several times in the chest. A cheer went out among his army.
Skum, the Flawless, did not smile at this. The dragon-riding warlock skeletons and the genetically-modified air force would more than suit her needs. An FTLephonic transmission from PAX/TOM informed her that two more outsiders had been spotted in a building atop the back of a giant turtle.
Things were likely to get violent and chaotic. It would be fun for no one.
”We’re back!” cried the Lord of Skulls, like he’d been waiting eons to say it. “Now, can either of you tell me what the hells happened?”
Clearly everything had not gone according to plan. LoS’ warlock skeleton legion reconstituted itself in a jumbling heap while, on the other side of the portal (which was no longer a portal, or else everything was a portal now) Commandrix Saga’s homo infantrius soldiers were frantically ripping off their power armor just to feel the air on their own bodies again. The Commandrix looked upon them with scorn, then turned to LoS. “Is it safe to say we caused this?” she asked.
“Bah!” declared the Lord. “Safe to say you caused this! The perfection of my portal spell was carved in my own blood! The gods themselves fortold my ascent into your world! These portents are far more reliable than your much-vaunted ‘computer projections.’”
The Commandrix smirked. “I’m sure your gods are powerful, but even they can’t ensure your success with a margin of error of one-raised-to-the-negative-one-millionth percent. My portal worked as well as anything in the history of my planet has ever worked, ever, and I paid a lot more than three drops of blood to get it that way!”
“Well then,” growled LoS, “Obviously this was Carl’s fault!”
Both of the would-be conquerors glared at Carl on the third side of the portal. Carl shrugged. “I built my portal exactly according to Ms. Saga’s specifications,” he explained to LoS, pointing a finger at the Commandrix. “We had some materials issues, but the fundamental principles apply—“
“Fundamental principles?” demanded Saga, hitting Carl over the head with her helmet. “As in, the fundamental principle of ‘thing from universe goes to other universe?’ Gee, well, Carl, you sure got that figured out. What you forgot to specify was whether or not you’d be teleporting all three universes in the process!”
“And now instead of three universes ripe for conquest,” added LoS, “We have one diminished madhouse that will be impossible to control! And this may merely be the beginning!”
“But he didn’t bring everything along,” reminded Commandrix Saga. “No, he forgot about the t-dimension, which is why the tri-world ended up frozen the way it was. That we’re experiencing time again now suggests a change from outside, and best guess is it’s the temporal-entropic death of the multiverse, so, you know... nice going, Carl.”
“I still don’t think it was—“ Carl was interrupted by a burst of gunfire as one of his mercenaries began firing at LoS’ skeletons from across the cave. “Guys, cut that out,” Carl shouted weakly. Carl had the largest numbers, for a couple of reasons. Firstly, he was understandably less confident about the capability of a handful of machine guns to conquer and subjugate an entire magical realm than the Lord of Skulls was about his undead warlock armada’s ability to lay waste to a society that knew nothing of magic, or Commandrix Saga was about her genetically-enhanced supersoldiers’ qualifications to destroy a primitive fossil-fuel-based Type Zero civilization. To correct for this lack of certainty, he had gone a little overboard with his recruitment drive. Secondly, said recruitment drive was remarkably successful; Carl had bragged to his co-conspirators via crossdimensional radio about how his world was “culturally poised to produce thousands of angry trigger-happy sociopaths with a raging desire to kill goblins and have sex with elves.”
He had not bragged about his training program, because it hadn’t gone over well. About a dozen skeletons made some half-hearted gestures and contained the offending soldier in a Pacifist’s Circle, leaving him to think very hard about what he’d done. “It’s no matter,” sighed LoS after a time. “Blame will not fix our worlds, or our plans. Even if we could undo what we have done, the damage done to our worlds is likely irreparable. Who knows what the surface may look like right now?”
“I do,” volunteered a homo infantrus, running up to the portal. “Commandrix Saga, ma’am,” he greeted awkwardly. “General. Uh... Lord of Skulls, sir. The normal data clouds are down, but some sky-truckers still have their old ham routers running, and they’re running video feeds. Here—“ The super-soldier projected a horrifying scene of chaos and violence onto the wall.
“Yeah, my portal didn’t do that,” insisted Carl meekly. “Almost definitely.”
“There’s more,” said the infantrus. “Some of these sky-truckers are equipped with temporal barometers, for when they’re carrying quantum-sensitive cargo, and they’re all saying the same thing.”
“That this world of incongruities will not last,” volunteered LoS. “The darkness will swallow us all. We have more than an hour, less than two.”
“What he said,” agreed the infantrus.
“That will be all, soldier,” mumbled Commandrix Saga, lost in thought. Then she turned to the other two. “Well, gentlemen, as much as I hate to say it, we’re now in the world-saving business.”
Carl scratched his forehead. “I think this problem defies a technological solution.”
“Though Carl’s idea of a ‘technological solution’ is explosives and electrical tape, I have to agree. Lord of Skulls, I defer to your expertise.”
The Lord of Skulls shook his lavishly-adorned, impressively-bearded head. “My magic can save anything from destruction,” he said. “But only if something else is sacrificed. When everything is threatened, I have nothing with which to bargain.”
There was a long and fruitful silence. During this time, nobody entered the cave and said, “Unless you sacrifice someone from outside all of your universes. An intruder, brought here by a confluence of events beyond all our ken.”
“Unless,” said the Lord of Skulls after the silence had concluded, “We sacrifice someone from outside all of our universes. An intruder, brought here by a confluence of events beyond all our ken.”
“We don’t have anyone like that,” answered Carl. “Do you?”
“I do not,” confessed LoS.
“I do,” nobody said.
“But she does,” accused LoS, pointing at nobody in particular.
“I do?” asked the Commandrix.
“No, I do,” said no one.
“Ah.”
“What?” Carl was confused, and slightly turned on.
“One foreign being won’t do to save three worlds,” said LoS, addressing the nothingness. “We’ll need three, at least.”
“Our prisoner may have companions,” nothing answered. “My associate is working on tracking the energy signature that brought her here, which will enable them to track any others. In exchange for all three of your sacrifices, we will require the use of this spot to enable us to warp back to our own home.”
“Your own home, you say,” smirked the Commander. “So your associates are extrauniversal entities as well.”
“I never said that,” giggled nothing, and she was right—she hadn’t said anything at all, because she didn’t exist. “In any case, my associates represent an organization you don’t want on your bad side. You do this our way, and everyone’s happy.”
“Who are you talking to?” asked Carl.
“No one,” dismissed the Lord of Skulls. “Very well,” he told that no-one. “Bring us our three sacrifices and you may use our portal... although you should know, Carl’s part of it doesn’t work.”
“We don’t need your apparatus, just the space,” was not anybody’s reply. “We could also use your resources. Say, a hundred troops from each of your armies, plus enough aerial vehicles to transport them.”
“That is acceptable,” said the Commandrix. With a flick of the interface on her armor, Saga lit up one hundred soldiers’ helmets. “Everyone I just pinged, you now serve no one. Do not take this to mean that you are relieved from duty.” The soldiers, who were quicker on the uptake than Carl, simply saluted. “Pilots up front. Get to the hangars.”
“You one hundred,” called the Lord of Skulls, waving vaguely at one corner of his army. “You and your dragons work for nobody now. Make me proud.” The skeletons obediently set off towards the dragon cages.
Carl still had no idea what was going on, but felt obliged to follow suit. “You’re all free!” he explained to his army. “Go forth and live your—“
One of his soldiers shot Carl several times in the chest. A cheer went out among his army.
Skum, the Flawless, did not smile at this. The dragon-riding warlock skeletons and the genetically-modified air force would more than suit her needs. An FTLephonic transmission from PAX/TOM informed her that two more outsiders had been spotted in a building atop the back of a giant turtle.
Things were likely to get violent and chaotic. It would be fun for no one.