Re: The Fearsome Encounter (GBS3G8) [Round 2: Oh Two Oh]
06-02-2012, 01:46 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Akumu.
The corridors of Oh-Two-Oh had been built with a military efficiency, unsurprising for a military vessel but leaving little in the way of usable space. The ship, as large as it was, was sparse on wide open areas that could accommodate the bustling crowds that a healthy black market would need. As such, one of the Admiral’s first acts as leader of the newly-formed IAU was to gut two of the AMV-020’s residential decks, leaving a structureless metal plain stretching from edge to miles-away edge of the ship, pierced here and there with support struts and electrical conduits. Into this empty space those with high ambition and low regard for the law began to pour, building it back up into the scrap metal shantytown that it was today. And it was into this space that Redclaw found himself deposited.
He and Triumphian had managed to batter each other into unconsciousness back in the forest, and he had awoken to the tail end of the Apprentice’s speech. Something about thieves and explosions. Now he was in the midst of a tossing sea of beings, most of them looking little like either himself or a human. He was surrounded by squat buildings, and worst of all he was enclosed, a metal ceiling blocking out the sky above. Clutched in his hand was a simple piece of white paper that read only, “AM Torpedo.” While he was still taking this in, something jabbed him in the haunch.
“Hey buddy, keep it moving! Some of us have deliveries to make!”
Redclaw turned and found a rough approximation of a human glaring up at him, though its head was shaped like an arrowhead with fluttering flaps on its edges, its arms ended in spade-like blocks of flesh that currently grasped a medium-sized crate, and it looked overall quite rubbery. Oh, and instead of legs it seemed to have an endless supply of tentacles holding it up. As Redclaw watched, it lifted up a pair of these tentacles and made a gesture at him that he could only assume was extremely rude.
With a snarl, Redclaw whipped an arm out, raking his claws at the boor’s face. Ragged strips of flesh were torn away and a gout of coppery green blood splashed out onto the surrounding crowd, who kept their heads down and just tried to go about their business. The force of the blow twisted the thing’s head around, and though there was not the satisfying crack of a snapped spine, it still went limp as it toppled to the ground. Its crate dropped to the ground and tipped over, spilling out packing material and a dozen leathery eggs that rolled around the Redclaw’s feet. In an instant, small creatures darted out from the shadows of the ramshackle buildings, weaved through the feet of the passing throngs and swarmed around the werewolf, squabbling over the eggs. Perhaps they were children, or perhaps that was all the bigger their kinds got. Redclaw paid them no mind, flicking the green ichor off his fingers and standing tall to see over most of the heads of the crowd.
The avenue he was on stretched away in both directions, floor and ceiling converging in the distance with no sign of open sky. The stench of thousands of living creatures was accented by the tang of ozone, all of it serving to overwhelm his most finely-tuned sense. His first priority at this point was to get away, to get back to nature. He crouched down, scattering those small scavengers who had not yet scurried away with their bounty, and leapt to the top of the nearest building. Its sheet metal roof, roughly riveted around the edges, bowed under his weight as he landed. The rooftops were more sparsely populated than ground level, though they looked to have a life of their own. Under the oppressively close ceiling, planks were laid across the thoroughfares from one roof to another, forming a second-story network of paths. Creatures light enough to be supported by those paths could be seen hurrying here and there, clutching parcels and computer tablets in one sort of appendage or another. They quickly made way when Redclaw began bounding across the rooftops.
He was making good progress, and he could see now that there was a boundary wall at the edge of the town. Each leap from building to building brought him closer to wall, and beyond it, freedom. Then, an overenthusiastic jump, a fume-corroded crossbeam, and Redclaw tore through the ceiling of a rowdy tavern and crashed down through a wooden table. Mugs went flying, and those who had been nursing them jumped up with a galaxy’s worth of curses. The turquoise humanoid who had just begun leading the bar in a rousing traditional Irokwan drinking song from atop a nearby table screeched and jumped down to duck behind it.
A lizard clutched onto the furry upper shoulder of his oversized companion clambered up to its ear to be heard over the din, hissing “Way better distraction than Ion’s singing. Let’s hoof it!”
The corridors of Oh-Two-Oh had been built with a military efficiency, unsurprising for a military vessel but leaving little in the way of usable space. The ship, as large as it was, was sparse on wide open areas that could accommodate the bustling crowds that a healthy black market would need. As such, one of the Admiral’s first acts as leader of the newly-formed IAU was to gut two of the AMV-020’s residential decks, leaving a structureless metal plain stretching from edge to miles-away edge of the ship, pierced here and there with support struts and electrical conduits. Into this empty space those with high ambition and low regard for the law began to pour, building it back up into the scrap metal shantytown that it was today. And it was into this space that Redclaw found himself deposited.
He and Triumphian had managed to batter each other into unconsciousness back in the forest, and he had awoken to the tail end of the Apprentice’s speech. Something about thieves and explosions. Now he was in the midst of a tossing sea of beings, most of them looking little like either himself or a human. He was surrounded by squat buildings, and worst of all he was enclosed, a metal ceiling blocking out the sky above. Clutched in his hand was a simple piece of white paper that read only, “AM Torpedo.” While he was still taking this in, something jabbed him in the haunch.
“Hey buddy, keep it moving! Some of us have deliveries to make!”
Redclaw turned and found a rough approximation of a human glaring up at him, though its head was shaped like an arrowhead with fluttering flaps on its edges, its arms ended in spade-like blocks of flesh that currently grasped a medium-sized crate, and it looked overall quite rubbery. Oh, and instead of legs it seemed to have an endless supply of tentacles holding it up. As Redclaw watched, it lifted up a pair of these tentacles and made a gesture at him that he could only assume was extremely rude.
With a snarl, Redclaw whipped an arm out, raking his claws at the boor’s face. Ragged strips of flesh were torn away and a gout of coppery green blood splashed out onto the surrounding crowd, who kept their heads down and just tried to go about their business. The force of the blow twisted the thing’s head around, and though there was not the satisfying crack of a snapped spine, it still went limp as it toppled to the ground. Its crate dropped to the ground and tipped over, spilling out packing material and a dozen leathery eggs that rolled around the Redclaw’s feet. In an instant, small creatures darted out from the shadows of the ramshackle buildings, weaved through the feet of the passing throngs and swarmed around the werewolf, squabbling over the eggs. Perhaps they were children, or perhaps that was all the bigger their kinds got. Redclaw paid them no mind, flicking the green ichor off his fingers and standing tall to see over most of the heads of the crowd.
The avenue he was on stretched away in both directions, floor and ceiling converging in the distance with no sign of open sky. The stench of thousands of living creatures was accented by the tang of ozone, all of it serving to overwhelm his most finely-tuned sense. His first priority at this point was to get away, to get back to nature. He crouched down, scattering those small scavengers who had not yet scurried away with their bounty, and leapt to the top of the nearest building. Its sheet metal roof, roughly riveted around the edges, bowed under his weight as he landed. The rooftops were more sparsely populated than ground level, though they looked to have a life of their own. Under the oppressively close ceiling, planks were laid across the thoroughfares from one roof to another, forming a second-story network of paths. Creatures light enough to be supported by those paths could be seen hurrying here and there, clutching parcels and computer tablets in one sort of appendage or another. They quickly made way when Redclaw began bounding across the rooftops.
He was making good progress, and he could see now that there was a boundary wall at the edge of the town. Each leap from building to building brought him closer to wall, and beyond it, freedom. Then, an overenthusiastic jump, a fume-corroded crossbeam, and Redclaw tore through the ceiling of a rowdy tavern and crashed down through a wooden table. Mugs went flying, and those who had been nursing them jumped up with a galaxy’s worth of curses. The turquoise humanoid who had just begun leading the bar in a rousing traditional Irokwan drinking song from atop a nearby table screeched and jumped down to duck behind it.
A lizard clutched onto the furry upper shoulder of his oversized companion clambered up to its ear to be heard over the din, hissing “Way better distraction than Ion’s singing. Let’s hoof it!”