Re: The Savage Brawl [Round 2: Giant's House]
03-13-2010, 01:03 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Not The Author.
Gormand stepped cautiously around the until-recently deceased rat to the blunt guillotine which held it captive only moments before. Despite the reputation towards mindlessness the undead are typically attributed with, this one had scampered well out of the way of its mechanical excecutioner. Gormand had similar doubts about the advisability of standing near a device designed expressly for the destruction of small (Ha!) animals, particularly the trigger mechanism. Of course, the mousetrap at hand was disabled for the moment, but the mere idea of death is known to be as worrisome as death itself.
Clambering atop what he might once have considered merely a foot hazard, Gormand inspected the leftover scraps of the rodent's last supper. The cheese was a bit stale, but that came as no surprise; it'd been sitting unprotected in the open air next to a corpse for who knew how long. He snatched up one of the smaller chunks, nearly the size of a book, and might've been surprised by the weight of it were he not already acquainted with oversized dairy products. "Here," he grunted, heaving the nub of cheese towards the now-mounted Earworm, "something for the road."
The thick lump of dried cheddar nearly knocked Diego from his steed. Righting himself, the aeromancer eyed his gift warily, but muttered a thanks regardless. Gormand hoisted a considerably larger crumbled block of cheese over his head and leapt from his perch, landing heavily (or lightly, depending on your perspective) upon the wooden floor. Rising, he broke a piece from a corner of his snack and threw it in a cavity in his side that hadn't been there seconds before, and wouldn't be there seconds later.
Gormand's eye swiveled in it's socket, scanning the room for exits, before he realized he was being discretely scrutinized by the necromancer. Breaking another piece from the hunk of cheese, he chucked it into another pseudomouth and blinked slowly. "You don't eat, do you?" Konka Rar, watching his newly-risen minion scamper off towrds the massive bed, shook his head. "More for me, then." The lich returned his gaze to Gormand, lack-of-brow decidedly not creasing. "Aren't you going to do something about that?"
One of the biggest problems with rapid regeneration, is wounds tend to heal over or around the object that caused them. This leads to a failure to recognize that there is anything stuck in the wound in the first place, which can be rather awkward at times.
This was one such time.
Gormand consumed another chunk of dairy. "Do something about what?"
Konka Rar's nonexistant eyebrow failed to rise. "That... stalagmite. In... in your... head?"
". . . Oh."
There was a sickly squelching as Gormand jiggled loose the offending spear of rock. He stared at it as though he'd never seen the like before. "Stalagtite, actually."
A bit of cheese went in the wound as it closed.
"How do you-" But Gormand was already plodding towards the nearest door, apparently following Hoss. "Hey!" The meatball glanced back at his undead companion. "Where there's rats, there's food, and where there's food, there too shall I be." Chowing down on another hunk of calcium, oil and fat, he resumed his original course. "I'm going to find the kitchen. You can come if you'd like."
Gormand stepped cautiously around the until-recently deceased rat to the blunt guillotine which held it captive only moments before. Despite the reputation towards mindlessness the undead are typically attributed with, this one had scampered well out of the way of its mechanical excecutioner. Gormand had similar doubts about the advisability of standing near a device designed expressly for the destruction of small (Ha!) animals, particularly the trigger mechanism. Of course, the mousetrap at hand was disabled for the moment, but the mere idea of death is known to be as worrisome as death itself.
Clambering atop what he might once have considered merely a foot hazard, Gormand inspected the leftover scraps of the rodent's last supper. The cheese was a bit stale, but that came as no surprise; it'd been sitting unprotected in the open air next to a corpse for who knew how long. He snatched up one of the smaller chunks, nearly the size of a book, and might've been surprised by the weight of it were he not already acquainted with oversized dairy products. "Here," he grunted, heaving the nub of cheese towards the now-mounted Earworm, "something for the road."
The thick lump of dried cheddar nearly knocked Diego from his steed. Righting himself, the aeromancer eyed his gift warily, but muttered a thanks regardless. Gormand hoisted a considerably larger crumbled block of cheese over his head and leapt from his perch, landing heavily (or lightly, depending on your perspective) upon the wooden floor. Rising, he broke a piece from a corner of his snack and threw it in a cavity in his side that hadn't been there seconds before, and wouldn't be there seconds later.
Gormand's eye swiveled in it's socket, scanning the room for exits, before he realized he was being discretely scrutinized by the necromancer. Breaking another piece from the hunk of cheese, he chucked it into another pseudomouth and blinked slowly. "You don't eat, do you?" Konka Rar, watching his newly-risen minion scamper off towrds the massive bed, shook his head. "More for me, then." The lich returned his gaze to Gormand, lack-of-brow decidedly not creasing. "Aren't you going to do something about that?"
One of the biggest problems with rapid regeneration, is wounds tend to heal over or around the object that caused them. This leads to a failure to recognize that there is anything stuck in the wound in the first place, which can be rather awkward at times.
This was one such time.
Gormand consumed another chunk of dairy. "Do something about what?"
Konka Rar's nonexistant eyebrow failed to rise. "That... stalagmite. In... in your... head?"
". . . Oh."
There was a sickly squelching as Gormand jiggled loose the offending spear of rock. He stared at it as though he'd never seen the like before. "Stalagtite, actually."
A bit of cheese went in the wound as it closed.
"How do you-" But Gormand was already plodding towards the nearest door, apparently following Hoss. "Hey!" The meatball glanced back at his undead companion. "Where there's rats, there's food, and where there's food, there too shall I be." Chowing down on another hunk of calcium, oil and fat, he resumed his original course. "I'm going to find the kitchen. You can come if you'd like."