Re: The Savage Brawl [Round 2: Giant's House]
05-21-2010, 10:44 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by slipsicle.
The blob is faster than Hoss had expected. Tossing the remnants of Gormand's scout to the side, it launches itself off the ground towards the sprinting cyborg. Hoss barely has enough time to dodge, the blob a green bullet screaming past him; only made possible by his increased power reserves.
As he does so, those very same power reserves register a slight drain, seeming to correspond with the miniature madness blob's proximity. Hoss delegates the problem to tertiary subroutines while he focuses on the battle.
Whirling to meet his opponent, Hoss is faced with a howling terror from beyond imagination, a multi-limbed monstrosity whose every motion is a wound upon his puny mammalian mind. Terrified, Hoss fires his forward kinetic emitters, tossing himself backwards to avoid a tiny green blob wielding a pittance of a claw, newly-emerged from its ooze. Hoss would puzzle over his retreat, had it not brought him underneath a falling, flaming floorboard.
Kinetic emitters fire. Hoss flies to the side as the conflagration explodes upon impact, spewing embers, charcoal, and a burbling ooze towards Hoss's stunned flank.
Hoss recovers quickly, in time to feed his right forearm to a suddenly-emerged mouth of razor sharp teeth. The ooze bites down, tearing through reinforced cloth and synthetic skin, but Hoss is already spinning with the impact, using the ooze's momentum to throw it towards wreckage of nearby dishware.
The ooze disappears into a shattered landscape of pearly-white china. Craggy splinters rise from the ground, forming an alabaster, apocalyptic maze. Gravity blade on the ready, Hoss advances.
As he hikes over loose rubble and through broken caverns, Hoss schemes. The data from the detection grid in the undead Giant has so far provided him with enough information to make some educated guesses about magic. Its divine source aside, the method of the arcane seems to arise from the will of the wielder. Obviously there is more, as Hoss is not lacking in will but most assuredly lacks in magic. He is quite certain the grid has given him all it can, for now. Perhaps, soon, its secondary function should be activated...
Hoss whirls once more. A flash of... something, half-seen behind him. His ocular implants begin to give him incongruous data; apparently, a source of radio waves briefly burst into existence behind a nearby wall.
His external inputs, again, record an anomalous disturbance in the air. Sound waves pummel his sensors, in a frequency used by a long-extinct Earth-predator, famous for its laughing cry.
Ekelhaft. Hoss is no fool. Anomalous data of such randomness can only be its work. The offshoot must be nearb-
An impact from behind nearly knocks Hoss over, as he suddenly finds himself engulfed by a burning, bubbling, invasive ooze. He rolls with the fall, attempting to-
-mitigate damage in this high-gravity environment. He turns around, to see the facility being crushed under its own weight. As the reaction continues out of control, other asteroids in the belt begin to move towards this one, and Hoss can feel himself pulled towards the dying facility. He must-
-remove the ooze, but its grasp is tenacious. Hoss slices the gravity blade towards a stray tendril, which is sucked into the blade's center and crushed, but not destroyed. Hoss jumps, kinetic emitters firing again, setting up a spin mid-air, in hopes of flinging yet more of the ooze from himself. He struggles with the slavering tooth and rending claw of Ekelhaft's offshoot, and slices his blade towards-
-yet more of the half-breeds. Fury mars his face; fury at his species, whom he has loved so dearly all these millions of years, and yet would dare to ruin themselves this way. Fury at the steadily-rising and varied descendants of humanity, the inevitable results of evolution, yet whom retain enough humanity to feel superior to their still-present ancestors. Fury at himself, for not realizing that soon, he too would be nothing more than a genetic throwback. His plasma lance slices again, severing a twisted mockery of humanity from its mortal bonds. Hoss raises his left hand, reconfigured into its particle-beam setting, and fires at-
-any stray bits of blob which are flung free from his body. The ooze continues to evince fangs and talons and put them to use across Hoss's body, eating artificial muscles and ripping through protective clothing.
As the ooze shreds through his right hand, early-warning protocols warn of encroaching mental degradation, at least, what degradation they can detect. Noise rises steadily in all his systems as the vestigial madgod's corruption worms its way through his psyche.
This is not working, dear brother.
The voice causes Hoss to freeze. Or it would, had he not been spinning madly through the air. His fall completes, and Hoss lands, still shaken by the aural hallucination. Anger fills his mind as he realizes its cause. The burbling green ooze has touched a part of him which he has buried deep. It is an action that cannot be forgiven.
Still partially ensconced within what bits of Ekelhaft Jr. that have not been trapped within the gravity blade, Hoss, again, fires kinetic emitters on his back. He shoots towards an alabaster wall, shattering through the massive China dishware and out into the open. Embers float down from the still-burning ceiling, and Ekelhaft Jr. reconstitutes itself, having been shed by the impact. Hoss, however, will have none of it. As more fangs and claws appear from within the ooze, Hoss stabs his gravity blade into the air before him. It elongates, and briefly forms into a cone, just wide enough to engulf the blob, then snaps back to its original configuration, center now tinged by a sickly green cylinder. Ekelhaft Jr. is now contained within the high-gravity prison of Hoss's blade, constantly exposed to world-crushing forces, but surviving through its own abominable tenacity.
Hoss peers at his prisoner, and considers. His sensors record no more of the anomalous data, and the early-warning protocols register all-clear, for now. It appears the ooze's aura of insanity can be contained by high-gravity environments. Useful to know, for his inevitable encounter with the main mass of Ekelhaft. Of immediate concern is the loss of his right hand; though he has the mass to spare for his newmatter fabricators to exude a replacement, he may yet need that reserve for future battles. Besides, it's not the first time he's lost a limb.
Hoss lowers his blade, and gazes across the burning, smoking, flooding, smashed battlefield. Towards the undead Giant; Hoss's sleeper agent, should the need arise. Towards a flying monstrosity, silhouetted by a burning sky, which he can only assume must be Ziirphael. And towards a small hole in the wall, on what used to be the floor, now the ceiling, blocked by roiling fire; the only location not yet explored by any of the known contestants.
Strolling towards the wall, the Hand of Silver begins the next phase of his hunt.
The blob is faster than Hoss had expected. Tossing the remnants of Gormand's scout to the side, it launches itself off the ground towards the sprinting cyborg. Hoss barely has enough time to dodge, the blob a green bullet screaming past him; only made possible by his increased power reserves.
As he does so, those very same power reserves register a slight drain, seeming to correspond with the miniature madness blob's proximity. Hoss delegates the problem to tertiary subroutines while he focuses on the battle.
Whirling to meet his opponent, Hoss is faced with a howling terror from beyond imagination, a multi-limbed monstrosity whose every motion is a wound upon his puny mammalian mind. Terrified, Hoss fires his forward kinetic emitters, tossing himself backwards to avoid a tiny green blob wielding a pittance of a claw, newly-emerged from its ooze. Hoss would puzzle over his retreat, had it not brought him underneath a falling, flaming floorboard.
Kinetic emitters fire. Hoss flies to the side as the conflagration explodes upon impact, spewing embers, charcoal, and a burbling ooze towards Hoss's stunned flank.
Hoss recovers quickly, in time to feed his right forearm to a suddenly-emerged mouth of razor sharp teeth. The ooze bites down, tearing through reinforced cloth and synthetic skin, but Hoss is already spinning with the impact, using the ooze's momentum to throw it towards wreckage of nearby dishware.
The ooze disappears into a shattered landscape of pearly-white china. Craggy splinters rise from the ground, forming an alabaster, apocalyptic maze. Gravity blade on the ready, Hoss advances.
As he hikes over loose rubble and through broken caverns, Hoss schemes. The data from the detection grid in the undead Giant has so far provided him with enough information to make some educated guesses about magic. Its divine source aside, the method of the arcane seems to arise from the will of the wielder. Obviously there is more, as Hoss is not lacking in will but most assuredly lacks in magic. He is quite certain the grid has given him all it can, for now. Perhaps, soon, its secondary function should be activated...
Hoss whirls once more. A flash of... something, half-seen behind him. His ocular implants begin to give him incongruous data; apparently, a source of radio waves briefly burst into existence behind a nearby wall.
His external inputs, again, record an anomalous disturbance in the air. Sound waves pummel his sensors, in a frequency used by a long-extinct Earth-predator, famous for its laughing cry.
Ekelhaft. Hoss is no fool. Anomalous data of such randomness can only be its work. The offshoot must be nearb-
An impact from behind nearly knocks Hoss over, as he suddenly finds himself engulfed by a burning, bubbling, invasive ooze. He rolls with the fall, attempting to-
-mitigate damage in this high-gravity environment. He turns around, to see the facility being crushed under its own weight. As the reaction continues out of control, other asteroids in the belt begin to move towards this one, and Hoss can feel himself pulled towards the dying facility. He must-
-remove the ooze, but its grasp is tenacious. Hoss slices the gravity blade towards a stray tendril, which is sucked into the blade's center and crushed, but not destroyed. Hoss jumps, kinetic emitters firing again, setting up a spin mid-air, in hopes of flinging yet more of the ooze from himself. He struggles with the slavering tooth and rending claw of Ekelhaft's offshoot, and slices his blade towards-
-yet more of the half-breeds. Fury mars his face; fury at his species, whom he has loved so dearly all these millions of years, and yet would dare to ruin themselves this way. Fury at the steadily-rising and varied descendants of humanity, the inevitable results of evolution, yet whom retain enough humanity to feel superior to their still-present ancestors. Fury at himself, for not realizing that soon, he too would be nothing more than a genetic throwback. His plasma lance slices again, severing a twisted mockery of humanity from its mortal bonds. Hoss raises his left hand, reconfigured into its particle-beam setting, and fires at-
-any stray bits of blob which are flung free from his body. The ooze continues to evince fangs and talons and put them to use across Hoss's body, eating artificial muscles and ripping through protective clothing.
As the ooze shreds through his right hand, early-warning protocols warn of encroaching mental degradation, at least, what degradation they can detect. Noise rises steadily in all his systems as the vestigial madgod's corruption worms its way through his psyche.
This is not working, dear brother.
The voice causes Hoss to freeze. Or it would, had he not been spinning madly through the air. His fall completes, and Hoss lands, still shaken by the aural hallucination. Anger fills his mind as he realizes its cause. The burbling green ooze has touched a part of him which he has buried deep. It is an action that cannot be forgiven.
Still partially ensconced within what bits of Ekelhaft Jr. that have not been trapped within the gravity blade, Hoss, again, fires kinetic emitters on his back. He shoots towards an alabaster wall, shattering through the massive China dishware and out into the open. Embers float down from the still-burning ceiling, and Ekelhaft Jr. reconstitutes itself, having been shed by the impact. Hoss, however, will have none of it. As more fangs and claws appear from within the ooze, Hoss stabs his gravity blade into the air before him. It elongates, and briefly forms into a cone, just wide enough to engulf the blob, then snaps back to its original configuration, center now tinged by a sickly green cylinder. Ekelhaft Jr. is now contained within the high-gravity prison of Hoss's blade, constantly exposed to world-crushing forces, but surviving through its own abominable tenacity.
Hoss peers at his prisoner, and considers. His sensors record no more of the anomalous data, and the early-warning protocols register all-clear, for now. It appears the ooze's aura of insanity can be contained by high-gravity environments. Useful to know, for his inevitable encounter with the main mass of Ekelhaft. Of immediate concern is the loss of his right hand; though he has the mass to spare for his newmatter fabricators to exude a replacement, he may yet need that reserve for future battles. Besides, it's not the first time he's lost a limb.
Hoss lowers his blade, and gazes across the burning, smoking, flooding, smashed battlefield. Towards the undead Giant; Hoss's sleeper agent, should the need arise. Towards a flying monstrosity, silhouetted by a burning sky, which he can only assume must be Ziirphael. And towards a small hole in the wall, on what used to be the floor, now the ceiling, blocked by roiling fire; the only location not yet explored by any of the known contestants.
Strolling towards the wall, the Hand of Silver begins the next phase of his hunt.