Re: LAST. THING. STANDING. [S!1][ROUND ONE: TELEVISION LAND]
04-12-2012, 12:19 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Sanzh.
Were Alaster capable of blinking, it would have. Over the course of mere seconds, it had seen Ablendan Blake-- not that he was recognizable under the influence of Tschichold's paints-- burst out of one of the parked vehicles, rend through the assembled forces, and leap through a hole into the enormous, mobile building they were beside. The mechanical mind of the clockwork contraption ticked, gears slowly moving as it pondered.
"Alaster, w-what's happening? What just happened?" Timothy's pitiable moan, as soft as it was, could still easily be heard by the attentive mechanical knight.
Under normal circumstances, Alaster would not be making the leaps in logic that it was. These, however, were not normal circumstances-- it was in an alien environment, made even more alien by the influence of the hallucinogens that suffused its memory crystal. Its mind made a quick conclusion about the new threat-- what the clockwork figure, in its drug-addled state, had assumed to be a construct of stitched-together flesh. It needed to be pursued and stopped permanently. Perhaps now it was hunting others, but it would no doubt return to try and kill its ward-- and Alaster could not allow that. A proactive stance was necessary if the future savior of magic was to survive.
"You Are In Danger. We Must Stop Him." The contraption maintained its stoic, mechanical timbre as it spoke.
"B-but, I don't understand. Wait, what are you--"
Just as Timothy made an attempt to question his protector, the mechanical knight grabbed him, stowing the boy underneath an arm as one would a particularly heavy sack of potatoes. Alaster crouched, and then leapt into the building. Without hesitating it began to scour the hallways-- taking long, almost automated strides as it searched for the abomination it intended to destroy.
As he ran, Ablendan could feel the primal desire to feed-- no, to kill-- coursing through him.
It had gone from more than just a desire to feed-- the ruined corpses of his past kills were more than enough to satiate his hunger-- as much as it was the satisfaction and cruel release that his slaughter was bringing him. The flies buzzing in his ears only reinforced this urge-- Beelzebub's ever-present reminder of his sacrifice drove him further into a murderous ecstasy. He raced through the metal corridors he now found himself within, paying no attention to the chaotic struggles further away. His mind only barely registered the events of moments prior-- the noise and cacophony of the channels being merged did not register underneath the cries of his prey. Whatever vestiges of humanity Ablendan Blake had were submerged underneath his animalistic instincts.
The abomination pounced, his scraggly claws raking through several humans as he sailed forward. He smiled as his mind registered the warm flow of blood and snapping of bones. Simultaneous to his leap, Ablendan could sense the flies scattering across the area-- digging and burrowing into others and aiding in the chaos. His violence was indiscriminate-- just as often as he tore into one of the remaining enforcers, he would rend through the metallic shells of the robotic spider women, smashing their delicate circuitry in a surge of sparks.
Ablendan wheeled around a corridor, no longer bothering to even maintain a bipedal posture and opting instead to lope awkwardly on all fours. Just as he reared up to prepare another murderous charge, he noticed just who it was facing him on the other side of the corridor.
"You." Alaster's intonation was a sonorous thunder-- for something utterly devoid of emotion, there was an evident conviction present in its tone. "You Must Be Stopped."
Ablendan stood up-- still crouched in a predatory curl, but at least acknowledging the mechanical knight now opposite him. There was no meat to this new quarry, but even then he felt the urge to smash the contraption. He snarled an animalistic acknowledgment of Alaster's presence.
As though programmed to do so, Alaster flourished his blade in response to Ablendan's threat. His other arm released Timothy, letting the apprentice drop to the ground.
"Alaster, you can't do this." Timothy whined.
"The Future Of All Magic Depends On Your Survival. It Is Necessary For Me To Defeat Hi--"
Alaster's intonations were cut short by Ablendan tackling the mechanical figure. The scrawny figure of the abomination likely would not have made an impact, but the flies that infested him somehow propelled him forward, adding to his force. Ablendan's tackle staggered the mechanical knight, who took several steps backwards as it corrected its balance. Ablendan, still maintaining the momentum of his charge, made a series of tentative swipes at the machine, trying to find a kink in its armor. All the while, the flies of Beelzebub made their own, separate attack-- swarming and nestling within the delicate clockwork machinery, attempting to jam its mechanisms.
Alaster bellowed a deep, thunderous cry, almost akin to that of a horn. One hand shoved the ghoul assaulting it back, while its other reared back in preparation for a strike with its blade. Its sword swept forward, missing Ablendan by inches-- the flies sacrificing themselves in the hope of causing the contraption to malfunction were having a least some effect, delaying the contraption's reactions ever so slightly. Both hands now gripped the broadsword, as he raised the vorpal blade above him. The knight menacingly advanced towards the reeling Ablendan, preparing to vertically bisect the threat to his ward.
Ablendan, on cue, slipped underneath Alaster-- his powerful claws damaging the exposed gears and machinery of the contraption's legs as he slid below.
The machine, struck in the delicate mechanisms that allowed it to balance, collapsed. It attempted to stand, but underneath the immense weight of its machinery and armor was incapable of doing so.
Timothy Yessic was alone. His protector was damaged, and the figure of Ablendan approached-- now going from standing on his haunches to walking upright once more. Timothy wanted to run-- if Alaster was incapable of defeating this monster, there was little hope of doing so himself. In an attempt born of desperation, the apprentice hurled a fireball towards the abomination approaching him.
The abomination roared as the fire rolled across his body, licking and searing. As much as part of him wished that the fire would consume him wholly, the flies shielded him-- blocking the flames and patching themselves onto his burnt skin. Ablendan laughed.
"Fire will not hurt me, boy. It failed to kill me once before, and will not work now."
A gnarled claw grabbed the apprentice, spindly fingers wrapping around his neck as he lifted the boy up. The buzzing of the flies got louder as he prepared to devour the child-- feed, feed, feed, the flies echoed and repeated to the shell of a man. Ablendan could think of nothing other than his hunger. To consume, to feed, to listen to the child's cries as he tore flesh from bone, to listen only to the whispers of the flies that suffused him and to surrender all that he had left-- mind, body, and soul, all for Beelzebub.
Ablendan stopped. He looked at the boy. His hand released its vise-like grip around his neck.
Ablendan remembered.
He remembered the deal he made. He remembered the humanity that he had lost, piece by piece. He remembered the countless years that he lived as a wild animal, fragments of his humanity whittled away.
Alaster steadily approached-- the mechanical knight had managed to right itself, and now began to walk with uncertain balance towards the abomination.
Ablendan stared at himself, remembering how he once was-- a fine, affluent gentleman, a man of discerning taste. A sick man, desperate for a cure. A foolish man. He had lost so much. He was moments away from losing it all, losing it all and never recovering-- being reduced to nothing but a tool of the demon he once consorted with.
Alaster's sword stabbed the abomination-- the immeasurably sharp blade penetrating hardened and toughened skin and cutting through bone, ligaments, and organs alike.
The abomination collapsed-- the flies had abandoned him, his wound was far too grave to recover from. Blood ran along the thick wound-- he was used to blood, but rarely his own. He dropped one clawed hand to support himself, trying to remain conscious even as he knew he was dying.
Dying.
He had been given release.
Ablendan Blake smiled. The haggard man could finally end his wretched existence, he could bring a finality to the years of suffering he had endured. He looked up, towards the mechanical knight and the apprentice. His voice was raspy and weak, but he had words left to speak.
"T-thank y-you."
Ablendan Blake collapsed and died the final death that he had delayed for so long.
Were Alaster capable of blinking, it would have. Over the course of mere seconds, it had seen Ablendan Blake-- not that he was recognizable under the influence of Tschichold's paints-- burst out of one of the parked vehicles, rend through the assembled forces, and leap through a hole into the enormous, mobile building they were beside. The mechanical mind of the clockwork contraption ticked, gears slowly moving as it pondered.
"Alaster, w-what's happening? What just happened?" Timothy's pitiable moan, as soft as it was, could still easily be heard by the attentive mechanical knight.
Under normal circumstances, Alaster would not be making the leaps in logic that it was. These, however, were not normal circumstances-- it was in an alien environment, made even more alien by the influence of the hallucinogens that suffused its memory crystal. Its mind made a quick conclusion about the new threat-- what the clockwork figure, in its drug-addled state, had assumed to be a construct of stitched-together flesh. It needed to be pursued and stopped permanently. Perhaps now it was hunting others, but it would no doubt return to try and kill its ward-- and Alaster could not allow that. A proactive stance was necessary if the future savior of magic was to survive.
"You Are In Danger. We Must Stop Him." The contraption maintained its stoic, mechanical timbre as it spoke.
"B-but, I don't understand. Wait, what are you--"
Just as Timothy made an attempt to question his protector, the mechanical knight grabbed him, stowing the boy underneath an arm as one would a particularly heavy sack of potatoes. Alaster crouched, and then leapt into the building. Without hesitating it began to scour the hallways-- taking long, almost automated strides as it searched for the abomination it intended to destroy.
As he ran, Ablendan could feel the primal desire to feed-- no, to kill-- coursing through him.
It had gone from more than just a desire to feed-- the ruined corpses of his past kills were more than enough to satiate his hunger-- as much as it was the satisfaction and cruel release that his slaughter was bringing him. The flies buzzing in his ears only reinforced this urge-- Beelzebub's ever-present reminder of his sacrifice drove him further into a murderous ecstasy. He raced through the metal corridors he now found himself within, paying no attention to the chaotic struggles further away. His mind only barely registered the events of moments prior-- the noise and cacophony of the channels being merged did not register underneath the cries of his prey. Whatever vestiges of humanity Ablendan Blake had were submerged underneath his animalistic instincts.
The abomination pounced, his scraggly claws raking through several humans as he sailed forward. He smiled as his mind registered the warm flow of blood and snapping of bones. Simultaneous to his leap, Ablendan could sense the flies scattering across the area-- digging and burrowing into others and aiding in the chaos. His violence was indiscriminate-- just as often as he tore into one of the remaining enforcers, he would rend through the metallic shells of the robotic spider women, smashing their delicate circuitry in a surge of sparks.
Ablendan wheeled around a corridor, no longer bothering to even maintain a bipedal posture and opting instead to lope awkwardly on all fours. Just as he reared up to prepare another murderous charge, he noticed just who it was facing him on the other side of the corridor.
"You." Alaster's intonation was a sonorous thunder-- for something utterly devoid of emotion, there was an evident conviction present in its tone. "You Must Be Stopped."
Ablendan stood up-- still crouched in a predatory curl, but at least acknowledging the mechanical knight now opposite him. There was no meat to this new quarry, but even then he felt the urge to smash the contraption. He snarled an animalistic acknowledgment of Alaster's presence.
As though programmed to do so, Alaster flourished his blade in response to Ablendan's threat. His other arm released Timothy, letting the apprentice drop to the ground.
"Alaster, you can't do this." Timothy whined.
"The Future Of All Magic Depends On Your Survival. It Is Necessary For Me To Defeat Hi--"
Alaster's intonations were cut short by Ablendan tackling the mechanical figure. The scrawny figure of the abomination likely would not have made an impact, but the flies that infested him somehow propelled him forward, adding to his force. Ablendan's tackle staggered the mechanical knight, who took several steps backwards as it corrected its balance. Ablendan, still maintaining the momentum of his charge, made a series of tentative swipes at the machine, trying to find a kink in its armor. All the while, the flies of Beelzebub made their own, separate attack-- swarming and nestling within the delicate clockwork machinery, attempting to jam its mechanisms.
Alaster bellowed a deep, thunderous cry, almost akin to that of a horn. One hand shoved the ghoul assaulting it back, while its other reared back in preparation for a strike with its blade. Its sword swept forward, missing Ablendan by inches-- the flies sacrificing themselves in the hope of causing the contraption to malfunction were having a least some effect, delaying the contraption's reactions ever so slightly. Both hands now gripped the broadsword, as he raised the vorpal blade above him. The knight menacingly advanced towards the reeling Ablendan, preparing to vertically bisect the threat to his ward.
Ablendan, on cue, slipped underneath Alaster-- his powerful claws damaging the exposed gears and machinery of the contraption's legs as he slid below.
The machine, struck in the delicate mechanisms that allowed it to balance, collapsed. It attempted to stand, but underneath the immense weight of its machinery and armor was incapable of doing so.
Timothy Yessic was alone. His protector was damaged, and the figure of Ablendan approached-- now going from standing on his haunches to walking upright once more. Timothy wanted to run-- if Alaster was incapable of defeating this monster, there was little hope of doing so himself. In an attempt born of desperation, the apprentice hurled a fireball towards the abomination approaching him.
The abomination roared as the fire rolled across his body, licking and searing. As much as part of him wished that the fire would consume him wholly, the flies shielded him-- blocking the flames and patching themselves onto his burnt skin. Ablendan laughed.
"Fire will not hurt me, boy. It failed to kill me once before, and will not work now."
A gnarled claw grabbed the apprentice, spindly fingers wrapping around his neck as he lifted the boy up. The buzzing of the flies got louder as he prepared to devour the child-- feed, feed, feed, the flies echoed and repeated to the shell of a man. Ablendan could think of nothing other than his hunger. To consume, to feed, to listen to the child's cries as he tore flesh from bone, to listen only to the whispers of the flies that suffused him and to surrender all that he had left-- mind, body, and soul, all for Beelzebub.
Ablendan stopped. He looked at the boy. His hand released its vise-like grip around his neck.
Ablendan remembered.
He remembered the deal he made. He remembered the humanity that he had lost, piece by piece. He remembered the countless years that he lived as a wild animal, fragments of his humanity whittled away.
Alaster steadily approached-- the mechanical knight had managed to right itself, and now began to walk with uncertain balance towards the abomination.
Ablendan stared at himself, remembering how he once was-- a fine, affluent gentleman, a man of discerning taste. A sick man, desperate for a cure. A foolish man. He had lost so much. He was moments away from losing it all, losing it all and never recovering-- being reduced to nothing but a tool of the demon he once consorted with.
Alaster's sword stabbed the abomination-- the immeasurably sharp blade penetrating hardened and toughened skin and cutting through bone, ligaments, and organs alike.
The abomination collapsed-- the flies had abandoned him, his wound was far too grave to recover from. Blood ran along the thick wound-- he was used to blood, but rarely his own. He dropped one clawed hand to support himself, trying to remain conscious even as he knew he was dying.
Dying.
He had been given release.
Ablendan Blake smiled. The haggard man could finally end his wretched existence, he could bring a finality to the years of suffering he had endured. He looked up, towards the mechanical knight and the apprentice. His voice was raspy and weak, but he had words left to speak.
"T-thank y-you."
Ablendan Blake collapsed and died the final death that he had delayed for so long.