Re: The Savage Brawl [Round 3: Abandoned Park]
05-26-2010, 02:31 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by SleepingOrange.
Ekelhaft's offshoot was having none of this "being trapped" nonsense. The noise it was making couldn't be described as keening or screaming or screeching simply because none of those words accurately describe what was essentially aural rage, emotion translated directly into sound form. No amount of form alteration or teeth or battering seemed to be capable of freeing the little droplet of hate from its prison, but it was damned if it wasn't going to do everything in its power to try.
The larger part of Ekelhaft had landed in the top of a tree; stunned from explosions and fire and the sensation of having part of its consciousness cut off, it dripped listlessly down the branches, burning off browning leaves and scraping off bark before landing piecemeal on the ground with a series of undignified plops. Shortly after the Cultivator finished speaking, the last few dollops of madness-and-fangs-flavored gelatin hit the ground. It lay there, eyes unmoving and unblinking for several moments, before all of its constituent blobs sped together and reformed, the usually-shapeless mass forming itself into a vague likeness of a humanoid from the waist up. Pulpy, spiked arms crashed into the trunk, sending splinters flying and pelting the wood with angry protons.
The continued inability to contact Ekelhaft Junior was rapidly unwinding any self control the old god had left; it was time for the avatar of destruction to serve its purpose. A group of shapes in the tall grass was apparent some distance away: still in its new shape, Ekelhaft slithered through the grass towards them, on the warpath and intent on violence.
Ekelhaft's offshoot was having none of this "being trapped" nonsense. The noise it was making couldn't be described as keening or screaming or screeching simply because none of those words accurately describe what was essentially aural rage, emotion translated directly into sound form. No amount of form alteration or teeth or battering seemed to be capable of freeing the little droplet of hate from its prison, but it was damned if it wasn't going to do everything in its power to try.
The larger part of Ekelhaft had landed in the top of a tree; stunned from explosions and fire and the sensation of having part of its consciousness cut off, it dripped listlessly down the branches, burning off browning leaves and scraping off bark before landing piecemeal on the ground with a series of undignified plops. Shortly after the Cultivator finished speaking, the last few dollops of madness-and-fangs-flavored gelatin hit the ground. It lay there, eyes unmoving and unblinking for several moments, before all of its constituent blobs sped together and reformed, the usually-shapeless mass forming itself into a vague likeness of a humanoid from the waist up. Pulpy, spiked arms crashed into the trunk, sending splinters flying and pelting the wood with angry protons.
The continued inability to contact Ekelhaft Junior was rapidly unwinding any self control the old god had left; it was time for the avatar of destruction to serve its purpose. A group of shapes in the tall grass was apparent some distance away: still in its new shape, Ekelhaft slithered through the grass towards them, on the warpath and intent on violence.