Re: The Savage Brawl [Round 1: Afterlife]
03-09-2010, 08:20 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Not The Author.
Gormand unfurled, skidding on the bloody floor a bit closer to the spell than he might've liked. Hoss was struggling to escape the ring ineffectively, apparently under the belief that spinning would somehow aid him. Equally ineffective were the zombie's belabored attempts to shatter metal with wood. Should've given it a spear. Gormand's attention was removed momentarily from the automaton and marionette as the echoes bouncing about the cavern resolved themselves into words.
"...i...ing...your distance from it. There's something of a ranged effect when it finishes."
Already wary of accidental contact the rapidly-shrinking ring, Gormand reconsidered his strategy. Hefting a javelin to bear, he took a few steps back and lined up his shot. Sure of his aim, Gormand lunged, putting more force into his throw but sending him hopping a little bit closer to the entrapped cyborg.
Just as the spear left his grip, Hoss was enveloped by a radiant sphere of ionized plasma. It was incredibly bright, and despite being surrounded in a cloak of shadows was still rather painful to look at. Gormand averted his eye, scuttling back from the imminent eruption of dark magics. Fortunately for his morale, the pastabeast completely missed his projectile vaporize in Hoss' superheated shell.
In the immortal words of Jed Rees, "And it exploded."
Gormand was not having a very good day.
First, he had been torn from his empire, ruining the years of planning and wasting the vast quantity resources stored away inpreparation for his invasion on Metropolis. Then he had been stripped of his power, leaving him merely a shell of his full, awe-inspiring form. Forced, on the whim of some frivolous demigod, to fight seven others from elsewhere around the multiverse for her own amusement; trapped in a cave with a multitude of mischevious spirits; brutally amputated by one he had hoped to ally with.
And now, as if to drive the point home, the metaphorical thorn in his side had become a literal stalagtite.
It wasn't a terribly big chunk of rock, but one who is shot only considers himself lucky that the bullet missed his vital organs once he's in recovery. Eye growing more bloodshot than should be possible for a being without blood, Gormand let out a bellow of rage and flung himself towards Hoss, no longer caring what collateral damage he might inflict.
Gormand unfurled, skidding on the bloody floor a bit closer to the spell than he might've liked. Hoss was struggling to escape the ring ineffectively, apparently under the belief that spinning would somehow aid him. Equally ineffective were the zombie's belabored attempts to shatter metal with wood. Should've given it a spear. Gormand's attention was removed momentarily from the automaton and marionette as the echoes bouncing about the cavern resolved themselves into words.
"...i...ing...your distance from it. There's something of a ranged effect when it finishes."
Already wary of accidental contact the rapidly-shrinking ring, Gormand reconsidered his strategy. Hefting a javelin to bear, he took a few steps back and lined up his shot. Sure of his aim, Gormand lunged, putting more force into his throw but sending him hopping a little bit closer to the entrapped cyborg.
Just as the spear left his grip, Hoss was enveloped by a radiant sphere of ionized plasma. It was incredibly bright, and despite being surrounded in a cloak of shadows was still rather painful to look at. Gormand averted his eye, scuttling back from the imminent eruption of dark magics. Fortunately for his morale, the pastabeast completely missed his projectile vaporize in Hoss' superheated shell.
In the immortal words of Jed Rees, "And it exploded."
Gormand was not having a very good day.
First, he had been torn from his empire, ruining the years of planning and wasting the vast quantity resources stored away inpreparation for his invasion on Metropolis. Then he had been stripped of his power, leaving him merely a shell of his full, awe-inspiring form. Forced, on the whim of some frivolous demigod, to fight seven others from elsewhere around the multiverse for her own amusement; trapped in a cave with a multitude of mischevious spirits; brutally amputated by one he had hoped to ally with.
And now, as if to drive the point home, the metaphorical thorn in his side had become a literal stalagtite.
It wasn't a terribly big chunk of rock, but one who is shot only considers himself lucky that the bullet missed his vital organs once he's in recovery. Eye growing more bloodshot than should be possible for a being without blood, Gormand let out a bellow of rage and flung himself towards Hoss, no longer caring what collateral damage he might inflict.