Re: The Fearsome Encounter (GBS3G8) [Round 2: Oh Two Oh]
09-29-2012, 10:18 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Akumu.
Redclaw came back to consciousness being carried through the streets of the slum. Each of Augustus’s four acolytes held one of his limbs, their differing sizes resulting in him being canted at an odd angle, which was no help for his disoriented state. He felt cold and small and weak... he felt human. He retched, splattering the sawdust underfoot and the small ape holding his right arm with half-digested rabbit.
“Aw, fer the love’a!” Munke cried as he jumped back, dropping Redclaw’s arm. “I just got this cleaned and pressed.”
“Acolyte Munke! Lord Azungrada expects much and has little patience for those who fail Him.”
Munke straightened up and snapped off a salute before taking up his portion of the prisoner’s weight again. Redclaw arched his head backwards to see Augustus following behind and overseeing the procession.
“You!” Redclaw snarled, “Face me, you curr!”
Augustus sniffed imperiously. “There is no need to dirty my hands with you further. There would be no glory to Azungrada in fighting a broken-down foe. It is only left to dispose of you.”
Redclaw began to struggle in earnest, lifting Munke easily off the ground and kicking Orchard aside. He ranted as he swung between the tighter grips of Worm and Nova. “I could still crush your throat, and I would watch joyfully as you choked on your own blood, you cowardly—”
“Acolyte Nova,” the arbiter said simply.
The starfish was carrying Redclaw with a tentacle wrapped around his upper arm. At Augustus’s instruction, he constricted that tentacle, upping the pressure until the humerus beneath a thick layer of muscle gave way with a crack. Redclaw’s invective cut off with a wet gargle of pain. It was all he could do not to scream out, but he wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. So he hung there panting, his arm at a grotesque angle, as the procession resumed.
Soon enough they reached the edge of the slums, where a metal door stood waiting. The robot Worm tapped on a keypad with his hook, and the door swung silently open to reveal a small room. The four acolytes prepared to toss Redclaw inside.
“Wait.”
Augustus stepped forward and grabbed the copper ornament clipped onto Redclaw’s hair.
“Something to remember you by, infidel.”
He tore it away along with the hank of hair it was attached to and saw that the Apprentice’s coin was tucked away under the clip.
“Ah, even better! I was wondering where you could be keeping that.”
“I will come for you,” Redclaw managed to growl, “and I will take back what is mine.”
“Oh, I doubt that very much. Acolytes, continue.”
Redclaw was tossed unceremoniously through the open doorway, and with a few more taps on the keypad, the inner door closed, the outer one opened, and the broken and shamed warchief was ejected into the vacuum of space.
“So I am supposed to believe that a god-like being sent eight ne’er-do-wells here on some kind of involuntary shopping trip slash deathmatch?”
“That’s about the size of it, Admiral.”
“Now is an incredibly subopt time for unusual disturbances, being in the middle of negotiations as I am.”
“Negotiations?”
“Yes, negotiations. Why do you think we’re parked behind this moon? The IAU’s delicate understanding with the Luvians would be immensely complicated by being in view of planetside laser arrays.”
Hethwell’s rhythmic contractions slowed as he digested this new information. Swimming in lazy circles in her tank, watching the cloud of gas with first one eye and then the other as she turned, the Admiral was inwardly amused at how bad a poker face one could have even when they had no face at all.
“Well, Admiral, then we could certainly help each other. The one called Parliament has something of mine. I can tell you how best to deal with it, I could retrieve my property, and then we would all be on our way.”
“Instead of that, why don’t I kill you right now, and get rid of the lot of you all the sooner?”
Viscount surged forward, mingling into the smoke from the Admiral’s cigar. She rolled to the side, pointing a fin at him and discharging her weapon. A crackling bolt of electricity phased through his vaporous body with little more than a tingle before being absorbed into the bulkhead behind him. Then he was around her head, swirling and eating away the memories of this encounter. He rose up, back between the ribs of the ceiling supports, and looked ruefully at the body of the subordinate stashed behind a pile of crates.
Well, that didn’t go any better than the first attempt... maybe the third time’s the charm.
“Admiral! I believe I can be of service!”
Though the rapidly dying body was that of Warchief Redclaw, he felt utterly divorced from it, his mind working to take in what he was seeing. Receding from him was a construction more massive than he had ever seen. Its dull metal walls stretched out in all directions from the door he had exited, ending without support in the blackness of space. It was an entire system separate from nature, of life spurning the embrace of its mother planet and claiming total dominion over its own environment.
It was an abomination.
That might have been Redclaw’s last thought before he passed out from oxygen deprivation, had it not been for the Admiral’s strategic considerations. As he pulled away from the airlock, the moon of Luvia peeked out from around the edges of the Oh-Two-Oh, bathing him in its light. He felt the power filling him, and he changed.
The change was a trauma so intense that it could only kill any man who went through it, distending bones and rending flesh before knitting it back together. While this little death was an inconvenience that was part of why Redclaw preferred to stay in lupine form whenever possible, in this case being dead saved his life. There was no need to maintain vitals in the precious seconds while his body was tearing itself apart, as the changing vector of the orbiting Oh-Two-Oh brought the welded-on Jewel sweeping towards him.
As the last bone slotted into its joint, he came back into life in his true form. A wall of glass filled his view, brightly lit figures moving parallel to it beneath silken banners. He spread out his limbs and braced for impact. The wall hit him, and he dug in with his regained claws. He accordioned into the glass, then bounced away. At the end of his arms’ extension, he stopped with a jerk, his claws caught in the narrow furrows they had cut into the glass. He pulled one arm back and punched the glass as hard as he could.
A spiderweb of cracks spread out from his fist. Inside, people stopped and looked up as a hollow thoom reverberated through the promenade. Redclaw saw them pointing upwards towards him as he struck again at the glass. Sprinkles of glass fell away from him into the interior of the ship. He could feel his strength draining away, his body throwing off its heat into the vacuum and the lack of oxygen cutting through the magical kickstart of the change. He pulled his arm back again, his muscles screaming and stiffening, and he put everything he could into the next strike, roaring silently into space.
The window shattered, blowing outwards as the air inside rushed into the vacuum. Redclaw followed it out, buffeted by a tornado of glass shards, then fell back inwards as the artificial gravity field caught him. He barely cleared the automatic shutter that slammed across the compromised pane, and fell downwards into the Jewel.
Redclaw came back to consciousness being carried through the streets of the slum. Each of Augustus’s four acolytes held one of his limbs, their differing sizes resulting in him being canted at an odd angle, which was no help for his disoriented state. He felt cold and small and weak... he felt human. He retched, splattering the sawdust underfoot and the small ape holding his right arm with half-digested rabbit.
“Aw, fer the love’a!” Munke cried as he jumped back, dropping Redclaw’s arm. “I just got this cleaned and pressed.”
“Acolyte Munke! Lord Azungrada expects much and has little patience for those who fail Him.”
Munke straightened up and snapped off a salute before taking up his portion of the prisoner’s weight again. Redclaw arched his head backwards to see Augustus following behind and overseeing the procession.
“You!” Redclaw snarled, “Face me, you curr!”
Augustus sniffed imperiously. “There is no need to dirty my hands with you further. There would be no glory to Azungrada in fighting a broken-down foe. It is only left to dispose of you.”
Redclaw began to struggle in earnest, lifting Munke easily off the ground and kicking Orchard aside. He ranted as he swung between the tighter grips of Worm and Nova. “I could still crush your throat, and I would watch joyfully as you choked on your own blood, you cowardly—”
“Acolyte Nova,” the arbiter said simply.
The starfish was carrying Redclaw with a tentacle wrapped around his upper arm. At Augustus’s instruction, he constricted that tentacle, upping the pressure until the humerus beneath a thick layer of muscle gave way with a crack. Redclaw’s invective cut off with a wet gargle of pain. It was all he could do not to scream out, but he wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. So he hung there panting, his arm at a grotesque angle, as the procession resumed.
Soon enough they reached the edge of the slums, where a metal door stood waiting. The robot Worm tapped on a keypad with his hook, and the door swung silently open to reveal a small room. The four acolytes prepared to toss Redclaw inside.
“Wait.”
Augustus stepped forward and grabbed the copper ornament clipped onto Redclaw’s hair.
“Something to remember you by, infidel.”
He tore it away along with the hank of hair it was attached to and saw that the Apprentice’s coin was tucked away under the clip.
“Ah, even better! I was wondering where you could be keeping that.”
“I will come for you,” Redclaw managed to growl, “and I will take back what is mine.”
“Oh, I doubt that very much. Acolytes, continue.”
Redclaw was tossed unceremoniously through the open doorway, and with a few more taps on the keypad, the inner door closed, the outer one opened, and the broken and shamed warchief was ejected into the vacuum of space.
- - -
“...and finally there is I, the Viscount Hethwell.”“So I am supposed to believe that a god-like being sent eight ne’er-do-wells here on some kind of involuntary shopping trip slash deathmatch?”
“That’s about the size of it, Admiral.”
“Now is an incredibly subopt time for unusual disturbances, being in the middle of negotiations as I am.”
“Negotiations?”
“Yes, negotiations. Why do you think we’re parked behind this moon? The IAU’s delicate understanding with the Luvians would be immensely complicated by being in view of planetside laser arrays.”
Hethwell’s rhythmic contractions slowed as he digested this new information. Swimming in lazy circles in her tank, watching the cloud of gas with first one eye and then the other as she turned, the Admiral was inwardly amused at how bad a poker face one could have even when they had no face at all.
“Well, Admiral, then we could certainly help each other. The one called Parliament has something of mine. I can tell you how best to deal with it, I could retrieve my property, and then we would all be on our way.”
“Instead of that, why don’t I kill you right now, and get rid of the lot of you all the sooner?”
Viscount surged forward, mingling into the smoke from the Admiral’s cigar. She rolled to the side, pointing a fin at him and discharging her weapon. A crackling bolt of electricity phased through his vaporous body with little more than a tingle before being absorbed into the bulkhead behind him. Then he was around her head, swirling and eating away the memories of this encounter. He rose up, back between the ribs of the ceiling supports, and looked ruefully at the body of the subordinate stashed behind a pile of crates.
Well, that didn’t go any better than the first attempt... maybe the third time’s the charm.
“Admiral! I believe I can be of service!”
- - -
A naked body tumbled out into space, puffing up slightly from internal pressure. Blood and sweat and tears boiled away into the emptiness before freezing into a nimbus of glittering ice crystals. A diaphragm worked uselessly, with nothing to inhale or exhale.Though the rapidly dying body was that of Warchief Redclaw, he felt utterly divorced from it, his mind working to take in what he was seeing. Receding from him was a construction more massive than he had ever seen. Its dull metal walls stretched out in all directions from the door he had exited, ending without support in the blackness of space. It was an entire system separate from nature, of life spurning the embrace of its mother planet and claiming total dominion over its own environment.
It was an abomination.
That might have been Redclaw’s last thought before he passed out from oxygen deprivation, had it not been for the Admiral’s strategic considerations. As he pulled away from the airlock, the moon of Luvia peeked out from around the edges of the Oh-Two-Oh, bathing him in its light. He felt the power filling him, and he changed.
The change was a trauma so intense that it could only kill any man who went through it, distending bones and rending flesh before knitting it back together. While this little death was an inconvenience that was part of why Redclaw preferred to stay in lupine form whenever possible, in this case being dead saved his life. There was no need to maintain vitals in the precious seconds while his body was tearing itself apart, as the changing vector of the orbiting Oh-Two-Oh brought the welded-on Jewel sweeping towards him.
As the last bone slotted into its joint, he came back into life in his true form. A wall of glass filled his view, brightly lit figures moving parallel to it beneath silken banners. He spread out his limbs and braced for impact. The wall hit him, and he dug in with his regained claws. He accordioned into the glass, then bounced away. At the end of his arms’ extension, he stopped with a jerk, his claws caught in the narrow furrows they had cut into the glass. He pulled one arm back and punched the glass as hard as he could.
A spiderweb of cracks spread out from his fist. Inside, people stopped and looked up as a hollow thoom reverberated through the promenade. Redclaw saw them pointing upwards towards him as he struck again at the glass. Sprinkles of glass fell away from him into the interior of the ship. He could feel his strength draining away, his body throwing off its heat into the vacuum and the lack of oxygen cutting through the magical kickstart of the change. He pulled his arm back again, his muscles screaming and stiffening, and he put everything he could into the next strike, roaring silently into space.
The window shattered, blowing outwards as the air inside rushed into the vacuum. Redclaw followed it out, buffeted by a tornado of glass shards, then fell back inwards as the artificial gravity field caught him. He barely cleared the automatic shutter that slammed across the compromised pane, and fell downwards into the Jewel.