Re: The Savage Brawl [Round 1: Afterlife]
02-24-2010, 06:28 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Not The Author.
Gormand bounced to a halt; leathery, uneven skin providing ample traction against the carved stone floor. Sprouting his multitude of limbs, he was at once pleased and displeased to find his corpse luggage partly embedded in his flesh. It was uncomfortable, but at least he wouldn't have to start anew. Pulling the body from it's snug alcove in his side, Gormand found his soon-to-be-meal somewhat worse for the wear - in addition to the previous headwounds, the body's whole chest and face areas were crushed unpleasantly. It didn't matter terribly much, just that the meal would be that much less nutritious.
Re-wrapping the body in a noodle cocoon, Gormand surveyed the area. It was marginally darker this time, what with the lack of light from the stairwell, but he could still make out the vague shapes of the many dead bodies littering the trap-laden corridor. How does one die again once already in the afterlife? Why bother to trap the afterlife, for that matter? File for later analysis.
Gormand was fairly certain of how the hall worked; he'd designed a few of these himself to throw off would-be heroes. Shuffling slowly along down the cavern, one of his feet slid over an unnatural crack in the otherwise smooth cavern floor. Carefully maneuvering as far from the anomaly as he could, he traced the crack with his foot. Sure enough, there was a large, worn square panel carved into the ground directly ahead of the staircase.
Gormand removed his probing flagellum, and was about to test the panel's effects when he was distracted by a quiet, sickly popping noise. Had he a mouth, he would have smiled, but the glint in his eye was enough to tell he was pleased. Swinging what should have been a twice-dead man to his front, he found he held instead a considerably oversized corndog. Dried, stale, and crushed all down one side; most people would consider it unpalatable and inedible.
Gormand was neither most nor people.
He placed his snack in the cavity it had made on their trip down the stairs, dislodging the wooden shaft whose prescence he'd never quite understood. They're inedible, so why do so many foods come with one? Gormand threw it haphazardly to the side as his flesh engulfed the breaded sausage. Slinking back into a corner of the room next to the stairs, he lowered himself to the ground and rested, digesting. He wasn't quite sure why the Virus couldn't break down regular matter, why it needed food specifically. Then again, he didn't really care.
Gormand bounced to a halt; leathery, uneven skin providing ample traction against the carved stone floor. Sprouting his multitude of limbs, he was at once pleased and displeased to find his corpse luggage partly embedded in his flesh. It was uncomfortable, but at least he wouldn't have to start anew. Pulling the body from it's snug alcove in his side, Gormand found his soon-to-be-meal somewhat worse for the wear - in addition to the previous headwounds, the body's whole chest and face areas were crushed unpleasantly. It didn't matter terribly much, just that the meal would be that much less nutritious.
Re-wrapping the body in a noodle cocoon, Gormand surveyed the area. It was marginally darker this time, what with the lack of light from the stairwell, but he could still make out the vague shapes of the many dead bodies littering the trap-laden corridor. How does one die again once already in the afterlife? Why bother to trap the afterlife, for that matter? File for later analysis.
Gormand was fairly certain of how the hall worked; he'd designed a few of these himself to throw off would-be heroes. Shuffling slowly along down the cavern, one of his feet slid over an unnatural crack in the otherwise smooth cavern floor. Carefully maneuvering as far from the anomaly as he could, he traced the crack with his foot. Sure enough, there was a large, worn square panel carved into the ground directly ahead of the staircase.
Gormand removed his probing flagellum, and was about to test the panel's effects when he was distracted by a quiet, sickly popping noise. Had he a mouth, he would have smiled, but the glint in his eye was enough to tell he was pleased. Swinging what should have been a twice-dead man to his front, he found he held instead a considerably oversized corndog. Dried, stale, and crushed all down one side; most people would consider it unpalatable and inedible.
Gormand was neither most nor people.
He placed his snack in the cavity it had made on their trip down the stairs, dislodging the wooden shaft whose prescence he'd never quite understood. They're inedible, so why do so many foods come with one? Gormand threw it haphazardly to the side as his flesh engulfed the breaded sausage. Slinking back into a corner of the room next to the stairs, he lowered himself to the ground and rested, digesting. He wasn't quite sure why the Virus couldn't break down regular matter, why it needed food specifically. Then again, he didn't really care.