Re: Inexorable Altercation [Round IV - Hezekiah]
12-01-2011, 05:22 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by bobthepen.
Azgard flipped through the book with ferocity. At every few pages his hand flew back up through his hair, recognizing and feeling each individual fiber. Every time the result was the same. He was not imagining or being subdued in some way - no illusion could replicate the tens of thousands of fibers all cut to exact heights with such accuracy. Yet to him, the book remained elusive. He had already discovered there was no “code” preventing him from reading its contents. If that had been the case there he could have deciphered it. In fact, had there been any sort of consistency or pattern at all, Azgard would have been able to read the book through dozens of times.
Yet this was not the case. Azgard quickly discovered that, even when returning to a page he had already seen, the jumble of words and characters had rearranged into something unfamiliar. He wondered if the book itself was enchanted. It was not unfeasible. Had there been an enchantment in place The Leader could have easily buried it in the void, leaving the book’s pages easily readable. Perhaps, he thought, that was how The Leader managed to reveal and summarize its contents with little difficulty. This was the best case scenario.
There were three other feasible scenarios, but each of these required Azgard to distrust the book, distrust his companions, or distrust himself, respectively. All three of these situations were highly undesirable, but Azgard could not help but try and prepare for them.
He had found a room, a study of sorts with not a small collection of books available. None of these books were as ornately displayed as The Inexorable Altercation had been, ready and waiting the nine cultists. There was no outward indication that any of the books were of any real importance, and as Azgard had soon discovered, there was no inward indication either. The books contained irrelevant histories, miscellaneous almanacs, even a few recipes. None were penned by The Wordsmith.
If there was any book worth reading it was the one he held in his hand. Yet he still could not read it. A few words managed to clarify and appear from time to time, mainly names. It was how Azgard had managed to decipher that the robot would not proceed to the next round, though he began to doubt the accuracy of his decision.
He flipped towards the end, seeking names and words that could appear and give him some form of guidance. After a few minutes of pouring through pages and pages he saw, with some clarity, the name Gias. It reappeared a few times - it seemed easier to find a word once it had materialized; though it could fade quickly.
Azgard took comfort in this. Gias was the one member here he could trust unconditionally. He was loyal, powerful, and, Azgard mused, the only real means they had of moving the contestants from round to round. If anything were to happen to Gias...the thought occurred to Azgard but he dismissed it. The book had proven itself trustworthy so far, although painfully convoluted.
It was while Azgard was pouring and searching in this study that Xylphos approached him.
“Still learning to read?” The copper-eyed figure hissed.
“Where’s Peth?” Azgard never lifted his eyes from the text.
“How should I know? Probably watching the battle. It’s gotten very interesting.”
“He better not be.”
Xylphos sneered. “You should probably be watching it too. Honestly I’m surprised you haven’t busted into the room with one of your classic tantrums.”
Azgard said nothing.
“Wait...you obviously haven’t made much progress in deciphering that text.” His grin grew wide, revealing sharp rows of wooden, serrated teeth. He chuckled, and in a sing-song voice he taunted.
“I know something you don’t know...”
His soft laughter continued, and Azgard cautiously peered up from the book.
Xylphos repeated, “I know something you don’t know...”
Azgard ran his hand through his hair. “What?”
“Oh you’ll just have to come see.”
“Tell me.”
More chuckling.
“Xylphos, what has happened?” Azgard stood up.
“We, “ Xylphos gestured with thick splintery clawed fingers. “have a new guest.”
“Excuse me?”
“Or more accurately, they do, the contestants.”
“You mean a native of the planet?”
“There’s that too, but you see...the lighting girl. She’s gone. There’s a little dwarf or something in her place.”
Azgard’s eyes grew wide, quick yellow flashes darted across them as he tried to process the information. He stood up and began to speak but Xylphos cut him off.
“Here’s the best part. She was sucked into the void.”
At this Azgard pushed the wooden serpent to the side and darted towards the main hall of Nowhere. He clutched the book tightly to his side as thoughts and questions poured through his head. Did The Leader return? Who is this “dwarf”? but most importantly, If a contestant died, why hasn’t Gias advanced the round?
As he approached the main hall, Endo stood in the entryway. There was no face behind that veil of blackness but Azgard received a chilling sensation as he passed him. Another thought entered his mind. He wants something from me.
As he burst into the main room, he saw four figures in the room, two stood and watched the sphere viewing the contestants, one more sat on the floor, playing with some small orb, and the third stood to greet him.
“Gias!” Azgard shouted, relief and confusion coming out at once. “Why are you here? What has happened in the round? Did Apathy die?”
The robed Balancer stood motionless for a moment, but responded slowly.
“The Leader is still there. Apathy went with him.”
The slow paced way that Gias spoke, and his pale unfocused eyes, was wholly uncharacteristic of the Balancer but not uncharacteristic of something Azgard had seen before.
“No...” Azgard took a few steps back. “No, Gias, how...”
He turned towards the two figures watching the battle, Peth, and the mothering Iifa.
Azgard skin began to turn an ashen pale. His right arm began to twitch. With a scream of fury and terror he rushed the small Peth. His arm raised up, fingers extended and muscles twitching. A cascade of thin lights traversed to his fingertips, revealing nodes and symbols of circuty emblazoned on the arm. With a quick and sudden backhand he slammed the curious face of the boy, sending Peth reeling to the floor. He raised his arm again, but it was held back by a furious Iifa.
“Don’t you dare do that again, Azgard.”
“Azgard what is the matter?” A still slow Gias asked. “Why hit the boy?”
Azgard’s color returned and the stream of lights stopped. He wrenched his hand free and turned to Peth.
“I told you to stay away from this!” He turned to Atelia, casually sitting on the floor. “Why didn’t you stop him?”
She looked up, innocently, “I...I’m sorry, Azgard, I didn’t realize. He was so curious and I didn’t think it could hurt anything.”
“Azgard,” Peth’s quiet voice called out, “Why are you so upset? I saw the void. The Leader must still be alive as you said. He hasn’t abandoned us.”
The Leader’s alive, Azgard thought, but that means that, he faced the sullen figure of Gias...
“Gias is dead.”
--------------------------
Memories are a powerful thing. They allow us to see far into the past, see events that normal eyes could never perceive. Not only this, but they can be shared. At times through writing, or images, art or stories, but at this moment, memories were transferred to the contestants with a clarity and accuracy these other mediums could not provide.
Of course, the impulse was short and sudden, and the contestants reeled form it as if they were recalling a dream from long ago, but some faces stuck, and names, and events, such that these contestants knew their captors’ history far more than any other contestants I have written about to date.
They saw, through the memories of Gias, eight beings all of varying size and shape, only alike in (what the Balancer determined) their formidable powers. Yet the creature that had summoned these beings was stronger still. Infinitely more powerful than any being Gias had yet encountered. The memories about this being were jumbled, faded, unclear, but there was a distinct and undeniable fear at what this creature represented present in the Balancer.
Then with an agonizing flash, the Balancer felt itself being bound by orange pulsating tendrils, forcing his ethereal body into an unfamiliar shape. “Human” the creature called it. The seven others all shared similar fates, their original forms and shapes compressed and constrained by unique scars and markings which emblazoned themselves onto their now human flesh.
The eight now-humans were deposited on a rock like planet. There was a single command given: “Fight to the death”.
They began to do so, but half-heartedly. Gias found he retained most of his original abilities. Teleportation kept him safe. He even tried to escape, but the instant he left that world his captor brought him back. The contestants scattered, they were in no hurry to murder one another, and their captor seemed in no hurry to hasten the confrontation. Days went by. Peroidcally Gias would meet one or more of the contestants. He would speak with them. Their language had been changed or given along with their forms. There was, for the most part, a desire to escape.
For the most part. One contestant found the challenge a thrill. He planned and plotted and sought to kill them, but he was the weakest of them all.
With his death, the contestants rallied. Their captor sought to deposit them in another world, another location, another round, but they confronted him.
The battle was a blur. Perhaps not even Gias could accurately recall the events that took place there, but the outcome was certain. Against the odds, they survived, and destroyed their captor. But it was far from over.
There were more beings like the one that had imprisoned them. They knew they would not look kindly on their transgression. So they fled. Ages past, their “human” bodies did not grow older, and their abilities kept them safe. Particularly those of The Leader*.
Authors Note: I assume that the contestants are aware of The Leader’s true name; however, as I am still unable to perceive it, I will continue to document it as such.
His was the power of The Void. He could conceal all things, make them vanish into nothingness. He was indispensable. Thus he directed them.
It was during this time that they became aware of the writings of The Wordsmith. It was, through these documents, the Leader told them, that they would be forever safe from those beings known presently as Grandmasters. So they sought the writings of this author. Eventually they found word of a central document. The very document they believed would bring about their salvation: The Inexorable Altercation. Supposedly, this document was placed Nowhere, an ancient hall far separated from all pockets of reality, in a place no being could reach, supposedly.
But one of the members calculated a plan. Azgard, the name rang clear to the contestants. He found a way to channel the Leader’s ability along with Gias’ in such a way that would send them to the edge of nothingness. It was not without risk, but they took their chance, and found the book.
The contestants then saw what they already knew, but seen from the vantage point of the Balancer. Eight people, like themselves, chosen by the book, brought to another world and sent to “fight to the death” so that prophecy and safety would be fulfilled.
There were more memories received by the contestants, some bits of Gias’ past, his life as a Balancer, a few scattered pieces of the time spent with his escaped comrades, though these were received in fragments, and some contestants retained more than others.
When the tumult of memories faded, all that remained of Gias was the memory beast, and an orange pulsing black hole core left by the deceased Voitrach.
--------------------
Situations, solutions, conflicts, consequences, all these raced through Azgard’s mind as he watched the dazed contestants through the orb. He needed to advance the round. That would be how the book progressed. There must be a change of location. Those are the rules.
With Gias’ death he had lost the most direct means of transporting the contestants to another realm. There was a possibility that Barabbas could manage something, even Xylphos had some capacity to move through the realms, but there was no certainty behind it. The risks were too high.
“Looks like it’s my turn, huh?” Xlyphos drew his wooden blade, and his tail flicked back and forth.
“Not yet, we need to”
“Azgard while you’re so focused on what to do with these idiots, I already know exactly where to take them and how to get them there.”
Azgard turned to the ceader-eyed cultist cautiously. “What?”
“Hezekiah” was the snarled reply, “The prison ship. I’ll just call it.”
Azgard was taken aback by this, but there were little other options.
“Can you make the jump?” was his only other question.
“I SEE THEM RIGHT THERE! Of course I can ‘make the jump’.”
“Peth,” Azgard turned to the boy. “Stand here. Watch the orb. Watch Xylphos. Understand?”
“but...you said that...”
“Forget what I said! Just watch him. I don’t want anything to go wrong.”
----------
It was a few seconds before the contestants regained their bearings. Uncertain as to what they had seen or experienced, there was little they could do to prepare for the next event. There was a rumbling, then the entire complex shook. Before long walls and ceilings began to crumble and collapse. A few members of the group shut their eyes, hoping for the best. There was a high-pitched siren...then silence...and cold.
When those contestants opened their eyes, they found themselves in large spacious rooms, filled with cubes and containers. Occasionally a terrible, foreign sounds cried out from the cubes, and echoed through the plated rooms.
Then a high pitched whine, and a loudspeaker turned on:
“Hello, contestants! Either the top hat guy or the rock thing bit the dust last round so I’ve brought you here. This is the Prision Ship Hezekiah! It’s a very dear friend of mine, so treat it right! It’s fully operational, chock full of some of the worst scum of the galaxy, tortured endlessly! Oh and I may have told it that you’re some escaped prisoners. Who knows? Either way, if one of you doesn’t die soon enough, you can be sure I’ll take care of it personally.”
Azgard flipped through the book with ferocity. At every few pages his hand flew back up through his hair, recognizing and feeling each individual fiber. Every time the result was the same. He was not imagining or being subdued in some way - no illusion could replicate the tens of thousands of fibers all cut to exact heights with such accuracy. Yet to him, the book remained elusive. He had already discovered there was no “code” preventing him from reading its contents. If that had been the case there he could have deciphered it. In fact, had there been any sort of consistency or pattern at all, Azgard would have been able to read the book through dozens of times.
Yet this was not the case. Azgard quickly discovered that, even when returning to a page he had already seen, the jumble of words and characters had rearranged into something unfamiliar. He wondered if the book itself was enchanted. It was not unfeasible. Had there been an enchantment in place The Leader could have easily buried it in the void, leaving the book’s pages easily readable. Perhaps, he thought, that was how The Leader managed to reveal and summarize its contents with little difficulty. This was the best case scenario.
There were three other feasible scenarios, but each of these required Azgard to distrust the book, distrust his companions, or distrust himself, respectively. All three of these situations were highly undesirable, but Azgard could not help but try and prepare for them.
He had found a room, a study of sorts with not a small collection of books available. None of these books were as ornately displayed as The Inexorable Altercation had been, ready and waiting the nine cultists. There was no outward indication that any of the books were of any real importance, and as Azgard had soon discovered, there was no inward indication either. The books contained irrelevant histories, miscellaneous almanacs, even a few recipes. None were penned by The Wordsmith.
If there was any book worth reading it was the one he held in his hand. Yet he still could not read it. A few words managed to clarify and appear from time to time, mainly names. It was how Azgard had managed to decipher that the robot would not proceed to the next round, though he began to doubt the accuracy of his decision.
He flipped towards the end, seeking names and words that could appear and give him some form of guidance. After a few minutes of pouring through pages and pages he saw, with some clarity, the name Gias. It reappeared a few times - it seemed easier to find a word once it had materialized; though it could fade quickly.
Azgard took comfort in this. Gias was the one member here he could trust unconditionally. He was loyal, powerful, and, Azgard mused, the only real means they had of moving the contestants from round to round. If anything were to happen to Gias...the thought occurred to Azgard but he dismissed it. The book had proven itself trustworthy so far, although painfully convoluted.
It was while Azgard was pouring and searching in this study that Xylphos approached him.
“Still learning to read?” The copper-eyed figure hissed.
“Where’s Peth?” Azgard never lifted his eyes from the text.
“How should I know? Probably watching the battle. It’s gotten very interesting.”
“He better not be.”
Xylphos sneered. “You should probably be watching it too. Honestly I’m surprised you haven’t busted into the room with one of your classic tantrums.”
Azgard said nothing.
“Wait...you obviously haven’t made much progress in deciphering that text.” His grin grew wide, revealing sharp rows of wooden, serrated teeth. He chuckled, and in a sing-song voice he taunted.
“I know something you don’t know...”
His soft laughter continued, and Azgard cautiously peered up from the book.
Xylphos repeated, “I know something you don’t know...”
Azgard ran his hand through his hair. “What?”
“Oh you’ll just have to come see.”
“Tell me.”
More chuckling.
“Xylphos, what has happened?” Azgard stood up.
“We, “ Xylphos gestured with thick splintery clawed fingers. “have a new guest.”
“Excuse me?”
“Or more accurately, they do, the contestants.”
“You mean a native of the planet?”
“There’s that too, but you see...the lighting girl. She’s gone. There’s a little dwarf or something in her place.”
Azgard’s eyes grew wide, quick yellow flashes darted across them as he tried to process the information. He stood up and began to speak but Xylphos cut him off.
“Here’s the best part. She was sucked into the void.”
At this Azgard pushed the wooden serpent to the side and darted towards the main hall of Nowhere. He clutched the book tightly to his side as thoughts and questions poured through his head. Did The Leader return? Who is this “dwarf”? but most importantly, If a contestant died, why hasn’t Gias advanced the round?
As he approached the main hall, Endo stood in the entryway. There was no face behind that veil of blackness but Azgard received a chilling sensation as he passed him. Another thought entered his mind. He wants something from me.
As he burst into the main room, he saw four figures in the room, two stood and watched the sphere viewing the contestants, one more sat on the floor, playing with some small orb, and the third stood to greet him.
“Gias!” Azgard shouted, relief and confusion coming out at once. “Why are you here? What has happened in the round? Did Apathy die?”
The robed Balancer stood motionless for a moment, but responded slowly.
“The Leader is still there. Apathy went with him.”
The slow paced way that Gias spoke, and his pale unfocused eyes, was wholly uncharacteristic of the Balancer but not uncharacteristic of something Azgard had seen before.
“No...” Azgard took a few steps back. “No, Gias, how...”
He turned towards the two figures watching the battle, Peth, and the mothering Iifa.
Azgard skin began to turn an ashen pale. His right arm began to twitch. With a scream of fury and terror he rushed the small Peth. His arm raised up, fingers extended and muscles twitching. A cascade of thin lights traversed to his fingertips, revealing nodes and symbols of circuty emblazoned on the arm. With a quick and sudden backhand he slammed the curious face of the boy, sending Peth reeling to the floor. He raised his arm again, but it was held back by a furious Iifa.
“Don’t you dare do that again, Azgard.”
“Azgard what is the matter?” A still slow Gias asked. “Why hit the boy?”
Azgard’s color returned and the stream of lights stopped. He wrenched his hand free and turned to Peth.
“I told you to stay away from this!” He turned to Atelia, casually sitting on the floor. “Why didn’t you stop him?”
She looked up, innocently, “I...I’m sorry, Azgard, I didn’t realize. He was so curious and I didn’t think it could hurt anything.”
“Azgard,” Peth’s quiet voice called out, “Why are you so upset? I saw the void. The Leader must still be alive as you said. He hasn’t abandoned us.”
The Leader’s alive, Azgard thought, but that means that, he faced the sullen figure of Gias...
“Gias is dead.”
--------------------------
Memories are a powerful thing. They allow us to see far into the past, see events that normal eyes could never perceive. Not only this, but they can be shared. At times through writing, or images, art or stories, but at this moment, memories were transferred to the contestants with a clarity and accuracy these other mediums could not provide.
Of course, the impulse was short and sudden, and the contestants reeled form it as if they were recalling a dream from long ago, but some faces stuck, and names, and events, such that these contestants knew their captors’ history far more than any other contestants I have written about to date.
They saw, through the memories of Gias, eight beings all of varying size and shape, only alike in (what the Balancer determined) their formidable powers. Yet the creature that had summoned these beings was stronger still. Infinitely more powerful than any being Gias had yet encountered. The memories about this being were jumbled, faded, unclear, but there was a distinct and undeniable fear at what this creature represented present in the Balancer.
Then with an agonizing flash, the Balancer felt itself being bound by orange pulsating tendrils, forcing his ethereal body into an unfamiliar shape. “Human” the creature called it. The seven others all shared similar fates, their original forms and shapes compressed and constrained by unique scars and markings which emblazoned themselves onto their now human flesh.
The eight now-humans were deposited on a rock like planet. There was a single command given: “Fight to the death”.
They began to do so, but half-heartedly. Gias found he retained most of his original abilities. Teleportation kept him safe. He even tried to escape, but the instant he left that world his captor brought him back. The contestants scattered, they were in no hurry to murder one another, and their captor seemed in no hurry to hasten the confrontation. Days went by. Peroidcally Gias would meet one or more of the contestants. He would speak with them. Their language had been changed or given along with their forms. There was, for the most part, a desire to escape.
For the most part. One contestant found the challenge a thrill. He planned and plotted and sought to kill them, but he was the weakest of them all.
With his death, the contestants rallied. Their captor sought to deposit them in another world, another location, another round, but they confronted him.
The battle was a blur. Perhaps not even Gias could accurately recall the events that took place there, but the outcome was certain. Against the odds, they survived, and destroyed their captor. But it was far from over.
There were more beings like the one that had imprisoned them. They knew they would not look kindly on their transgression. So they fled. Ages past, their “human” bodies did not grow older, and their abilities kept them safe. Particularly those of The Leader*.
Authors Note: I assume that the contestants are aware of The Leader’s true name; however, as I am still unable to perceive it, I will continue to document it as such.
His was the power of The Void. He could conceal all things, make them vanish into nothingness. He was indispensable. Thus he directed them.
It was during this time that they became aware of the writings of The Wordsmith. It was, through these documents, the Leader told them, that they would be forever safe from those beings known presently as Grandmasters. So they sought the writings of this author. Eventually they found word of a central document. The very document they believed would bring about their salvation: The Inexorable Altercation. Supposedly, this document was placed Nowhere, an ancient hall far separated from all pockets of reality, in a place no being could reach, supposedly.
But one of the members calculated a plan. Azgard, the name rang clear to the contestants. He found a way to channel the Leader’s ability along with Gias’ in such a way that would send them to the edge of nothingness. It was not without risk, but they took their chance, and found the book.
The contestants then saw what they already knew, but seen from the vantage point of the Balancer. Eight people, like themselves, chosen by the book, brought to another world and sent to “fight to the death” so that prophecy and safety would be fulfilled.
There were more memories received by the contestants, some bits of Gias’ past, his life as a Balancer, a few scattered pieces of the time spent with his escaped comrades, though these were received in fragments, and some contestants retained more than others.
When the tumult of memories faded, all that remained of Gias was the memory beast, and an orange pulsing black hole core left by the deceased Voitrach.
--------------------
Situations, solutions, conflicts, consequences, all these raced through Azgard’s mind as he watched the dazed contestants through the orb. He needed to advance the round. That would be how the book progressed. There must be a change of location. Those are the rules.
With Gias’ death he had lost the most direct means of transporting the contestants to another realm. There was a possibility that Barabbas could manage something, even Xylphos had some capacity to move through the realms, but there was no certainty behind it. The risks were too high.
“Looks like it’s my turn, huh?” Xlyphos drew his wooden blade, and his tail flicked back and forth.
“Not yet, we need to”
“Azgard while you’re so focused on what to do with these idiots, I already know exactly where to take them and how to get them there.”
Azgard turned to the ceader-eyed cultist cautiously. “What?”
“Hezekiah” was the snarled reply, “The prison ship. I’ll just call it.”
Azgard was taken aback by this, but there were little other options.
“Can you make the jump?” was his only other question.
“I SEE THEM RIGHT THERE! Of course I can ‘make the jump’.”
“Peth,” Azgard turned to the boy. “Stand here. Watch the orb. Watch Xylphos. Understand?”
“but...you said that...”
“Forget what I said! Just watch him. I don’t want anything to go wrong.”
----------
It was a few seconds before the contestants regained their bearings. Uncertain as to what they had seen or experienced, there was little they could do to prepare for the next event. There was a rumbling, then the entire complex shook. Before long walls and ceilings began to crumble and collapse. A few members of the group shut their eyes, hoping for the best. There was a high-pitched siren...then silence...and cold.
When those contestants opened their eyes, they found themselves in large spacious rooms, filled with cubes and containers. Occasionally a terrible, foreign sounds cried out from the cubes, and echoed through the plated rooms.
Then a high pitched whine, and a loudspeaker turned on:
“Hello, contestants! Either the top hat guy or the rock thing bit the dust last round so I’ve brought you here. This is the Prision Ship Hezekiah! It’s a very dear friend of mine, so treat it right! It’s fully operational, chock full of some of the worst scum of the galaxy, tortured endlessly! Oh and I may have told it that you’re some escaped prisoners. Who knows? Either way, if one of you doesn’t die soon enough, you can be sure I’ll take care of it personally.”