Re: The Savage Brawl [Round 4: Small 50s Town]
09-15-2011, 08:21 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by slipsicle.
Hoss sat back, and took in a deep breath. Now that the shock of having lungs for the first time in hundreds of millions of years had worn off, he felt slightly comforted by the nostalgic relaxation a good inhale could bring. It didn't ease the magical hangover much, however.
Hoss sat forward, resting his head in a metallic palm with a slight clink. The more he learned about magic the less he understood, and unfortunately the only being he'd ever encountered who'd successfully blended magic and technology would likely try to kill him on sight.
In fact, the only other contestent who hadn't shown him any violence recently was Gormand; and, considering Hoss was apparently inside a Gormandified building, he seemed the ideal choice for information.
Hoss stood, still a little wobbly, and began to explore.
It didn't take him long to locate the sentient meatball, as his auditory sensors were able to tune out the sounds of the meat-based structure and hone in on Gormand's telltale squelch, though he encountered some difficulty with his visual sensors; they seemed to be malfunctioning, and only giving him data in the visual spectrum. Low-resolution data, at that.
The meaty commander was observing his army's attack from the center of a circular control room. Each of his noodly appendages connected themselves to various food-ports - a tube made of celery, some kind of spherical jelly donut, a cooked turkey, among others - which seemed to control various aspects of Gormand's army.
"Gormand. What happened to me?"
"Your giant exploded, and then you came hurtling through that wall over there," Gormand's main mass shifted slightly, indicating the general direction, "You were nonresponsive, but obviously not dead, so I had one of my minions take you to the infirmery."
"Why not simply kill me? I was helpless, and you seem to have gained the upper hand in this round."
"True. But I don't think my army will follow me into the next round, and without them I am ill-equipped to deal with the more potent threat of Ekelhaft. You, on the other hand, are the only one of us thus far to have any success in combating the slime.
"Plus," he added, turning around, "I may need your help to - what happened to your eyes?"
"What?"
"Your eyes. They're not silver."
"What do you mean they're not silver, of course they're-"
Hoss raised an arm and a flat, reflective panel raised itself from his forearm, and he found his own metallic face staring back at him. With blue eyes. Blue, human. organic eyes, complete with pupils, irises, and even tiny blood vessels.
He tentatively raised his other hand to his face, and lightly touched one eye with a metal finger. As it came into view, he found he could not even focus on the finger, close as it was.
"Gormand I appreciate your assistence but I have some personal matters to attend to. I assume you can hold your own here."
The meatball gave the impression of a nod, and Hoss turned to leave, then stopped.
"And Gormand... thank you. When you need it, you will have my aid."
And with that, the cyborg was gone.
---
Outside the motherburger, away from the raging food-vs-aliens battle, in the wreckage of a downed alien ship, the ancient tyrant brooded. His slow transformation into a flesh-and-blood human had begun as soon as he began to experiment with magic. Unfortunately, he knew so little about the realm of the ethereal that he could not begin to guess as to the reason. Unless...
The one thing he felt confident about magic was that it was primarily an expression of will. Hoss had always been particularly strong-willed, but obviously the strength of that will was only one component of magical abilities. The other, then, must be what drives that will, and how the wielder chooses to have his will expressed in the world.
Hoss was struck then by inspiration. He nearly scolded himself at the obviousness of the realization; Hoss's will had always been driven by his love of humanity and his belief in human supremacy. His will was driven by his own humanity, and his experiments with magic were merely beginning to manifest that will within himself. So, of course, he was becoming a fully organic human once more.
Yet despite this inspiration, he still could not see a way to prevent his slow transformation. He could not change what drove him, but the more magic he used, the more organic he became.
Hoss looked around him at the ruined alien vessel, and made a decision. He already had a billion years worth of experience with technology, but with magic, he had none. Perhaps, then, it was time to completely immerse himself in the world of magic, and to surrender his body to his own will.
The cyborg tore through the alien ship until he found its flickering power source. He grabbed it, closed his eyes, and began to focus.
Outside the downed ship, the battle raged, and the occasional flicker of otherworldly light from inside the wreckage went unnoticed.
Hoss sat back, and took in a deep breath. Now that the shock of having lungs for the first time in hundreds of millions of years had worn off, he felt slightly comforted by the nostalgic relaxation a good inhale could bring. It didn't ease the magical hangover much, however.
Hoss sat forward, resting his head in a metallic palm with a slight clink. The more he learned about magic the less he understood, and unfortunately the only being he'd ever encountered who'd successfully blended magic and technology would likely try to kill him on sight.
In fact, the only other contestent who hadn't shown him any violence recently was Gormand; and, considering Hoss was apparently inside a Gormandified building, he seemed the ideal choice for information.
Hoss stood, still a little wobbly, and began to explore.
It didn't take him long to locate the sentient meatball, as his auditory sensors were able to tune out the sounds of the meat-based structure and hone in on Gormand's telltale squelch, though he encountered some difficulty with his visual sensors; they seemed to be malfunctioning, and only giving him data in the visual spectrum. Low-resolution data, at that.
The meaty commander was observing his army's attack from the center of a circular control room. Each of his noodly appendages connected themselves to various food-ports - a tube made of celery, some kind of spherical jelly donut, a cooked turkey, among others - which seemed to control various aspects of Gormand's army.
"Gormand. What happened to me?"
"Your giant exploded, and then you came hurtling through that wall over there," Gormand's main mass shifted slightly, indicating the general direction, "You were nonresponsive, but obviously not dead, so I had one of my minions take you to the infirmery."
"Why not simply kill me? I was helpless, and you seem to have gained the upper hand in this round."
"True. But I don't think my army will follow me into the next round, and without them I am ill-equipped to deal with the more potent threat of Ekelhaft. You, on the other hand, are the only one of us thus far to have any success in combating the slime.
"Plus," he added, turning around, "I may need your help to - what happened to your eyes?"
"What?"
"Your eyes. They're not silver."
"What do you mean they're not silver, of course they're-"
Hoss raised an arm and a flat, reflective panel raised itself from his forearm, and he found his own metallic face staring back at him. With blue eyes. Blue, human. organic eyes, complete with pupils, irises, and even tiny blood vessels.
He tentatively raised his other hand to his face, and lightly touched one eye with a metal finger. As it came into view, he found he could not even focus on the finger, close as it was.
"Gormand I appreciate your assistence but I have some personal matters to attend to. I assume you can hold your own here."
The meatball gave the impression of a nod, and Hoss turned to leave, then stopped.
"And Gormand... thank you. When you need it, you will have my aid."
And with that, the cyborg was gone.
---
Outside the motherburger, away from the raging food-vs-aliens battle, in the wreckage of a downed alien ship, the ancient tyrant brooded. His slow transformation into a flesh-and-blood human had begun as soon as he began to experiment with magic. Unfortunately, he knew so little about the realm of the ethereal that he could not begin to guess as to the reason. Unless...
The one thing he felt confident about magic was that it was primarily an expression of will. Hoss had always been particularly strong-willed, but obviously the strength of that will was only one component of magical abilities. The other, then, must be what drives that will, and how the wielder chooses to have his will expressed in the world.
Hoss was struck then by inspiration. He nearly scolded himself at the obviousness of the realization; Hoss's will had always been driven by his love of humanity and his belief in human supremacy. His will was driven by his own humanity, and his experiments with magic were merely beginning to manifest that will within himself. So, of course, he was becoming a fully organic human once more.
Yet despite this inspiration, he still could not see a way to prevent his slow transformation. He could not change what drove him, but the more magic he used, the more organic he became.
Hoss looked around him at the ruined alien vessel, and made a decision. He already had a billion years worth of experience with technology, but with magic, he had none. Perhaps, then, it was time to completely immerse himself in the world of magic, and to surrender his body to his own will.
The cyborg tore through the alien ship until he found its flickering power source. He grabbed it, closed his eyes, and began to focus.
Outside the downed ship, the battle raged, and the occasional flicker of otherworldly light from inside the wreckage went unnoticed.