Re: The Savage Brawl [Round 4: Small 50s Town]
03-07-2012, 06:19 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Ixcalibur.
The unfortunate timing of a missile striking just the wrong spot on the Skavan mothership, and just like that the connection was cut. The intricate systems of the communication array were shattered, buried under a clinging crust of splattered meat. The broadcast from the alien Empress ceased permanently, taking with it what was probably Ziirphael’s only chance of finding someone like him. It would be foolish to assume that he had taken it well. It should be assumed that by the time he emerged from that electronics store every television screen had been shattered into a million pieces; most likely no potentially breakable object had survived.
Ziirphael was angry. He was so very angry. Angry with The Cultivator for taking his immortality, angry with Konka for taking his will, angry with Gormand for inadvertently taking away his chance at finally knowing someone of his own kind, and finally angry with Ekelhaft for god damn refusing to die. He slumped down against a lamppost, causing it to slightly bend backwards as he did so. Probably the only reason he was not angry with Hand of Silver was that he had not had all that much contact with the cyborg. If he had the lungs with which to do so he would have sighed. He was angry, yes, but it was not burning rage that fuelled him like it had been before. This anger was cold and it was heavy; a weight in the pit of his stomach. How hard could it be to kill one goddamned blob? They had the combined might of the necromantic magics of Konka Rar, the advanced technology of Hand of Silver and the armies of meat of Gormand, at least in theory, and they could not bring down one homicidal blob? It was not as if Ekelhaft was a particularly cunning opponent. It did not employ complex strategy; it was simply consumption and chaos running virtually unchecked across every environment they had passed through. It was almost hilarious how pitiful a situation this was. Ziirphael might have actually chuckled to himself at this point; a grim half life of someone who finally recognises a sad truth they aren’t particularly surprised by.
If they could not stop Ekelhaft what realistic chance did they have against The Cultivator?
The answer was simple. They couldn’t do it. They did not have a hope in hell of bringing down The Cultivator.
It is sometimes hard to accept the truth. The idea that the thing you want most in the world is out of your reach and will likely remain that way no matter what you do is not a particularly palatable one. Perhaps, Ziirphael mused, if they had combined their efforts sooner? If Doctor Anarchy had not got herself killed, and maybe that guy with the knife as well. Diego, well he could still die, Ziirphael guessed, they could do just fine without his treachery. If they had worked together back then they might have had a shot. If they could convince Ekelhaft that she was the real enemy… then they might really have a shot. But that was wishful thinking and Ziirphael couldn’t entertain it, not even for a second. He’d accepted the bitter truth. Sat there on the side of the road in an almost empty town while the forces of one of his competitors and one of the ‘round hazards’ clashed overhead, Ziirphael swallowed down his pride. He bit down upon his anger and his desire for revenge and decided that he would have to simply be happy to make it through this thing in one piece, even if that meant playing The Cultivator’s game in earnest.
Ziirphael climbed to his feet and idly mused as he strolled down the street. If he was really was going to do this he would have to, at some point, think about how to kill one of the contestants that was not Ekelhaft. Even if you did not account for Konka’s control over this body, they still all had the advantage over him; Konka with his magic, Hoss his technology and Gormand his army. Ziirphael’s strong suit was his brute strength; in comparison it seemed somehow lacking. If this was to come down to him and someone else, he was not sure how he would hold his own. He thought about this as he watched the continuing battle overhead. Konka had been right. He needed to control his anger, with it he was predictable, an easy target that they could pick off at a later date. He needed to think, and to know when to strike. Betrayal of some kind seemed like the only way he would get through this battle alive.
Of course, that depended entirely on killing Ekelhaft. The blob was the one sticking point where all plans seemed to come unstuck.
Well, Ziirphael thought as she smeared himself with dried blood, maybe it was time to do something about that.
--------
Commander Las’healt was not in the best of moods as it was. This entire mission had gone from a simple retrieval of native creatures to an all out war with a type of creature that had gone completely unrecorded during scouting missions, and every time he thought that the situation could not get any worse it somehow did. He had just received a report that in his attempt to stop the saboteur he was haemorrhaging entire security teams, and despite their efforts one of the engines had been compromised anyway. Then there was a report that the engine failure had led to some unexpected problems, most notable of which was the temporary power failure to the Containment Hangar. It had lasted long enough to allow almost half of the varied alien specimens to escape captivity. The Hangar had gone into lockdown but it seemed unlikely to hold for long. And as if that had not been dispiriting enough he was now receiving reports that the integrity of the ship itself was being compromised by the clinging skin of meat, which was inexplicably slowly transforming whatever it was in contact with.
It had become apparent to the Commander that while they were slowly winning this war, the mothership itself was not going to make it. He was no captain, he had no obligation to go down with this ship, and what was more, wasn’t it more important that his forces had continued command from a competent and very much alive officer so as to best fight back the meat menace? He very much thought so. Commander Las’healt commanded that a transfer pod be prepared to move him from the mothership to… he glanced at the data he had available… The Shrik’aan. It was obviously just a coincidence that that happened to be the least damaged ship in their fleet. While the pod was being prepared he ordered some more security forces down to where the saboteur had last been sighted, extra security on all the engines, and extra security on him of course.
The unfortunate timing of a missile striking just the wrong spot on the Skavan mothership, and just like that the connection was cut. The intricate systems of the communication array were shattered, buried under a clinging crust of splattered meat. The broadcast from the alien Empress ceased permanently, taking with it what was probably Ziirphael’s only chance of finding someone like him. It would be foolish to assume that he had taken it well. It should be assumed that by the time he emerged from that electronics store every television screen had been shattered into a million pieces; most likely no potentially breakable object had survived.
Ziirphael was angry. He was so very angry. Angry with The Cultivator for taking his immortality, angry with Konka for taking his will, angry with Gormand for inadvertently taking away his chance at finally knowing someone of his own kind, and finally angry with Ekelhaft for god damn refusing to die. He slumped down against a lamppost, causing it to slightly bend backwards as he did so. Probably the only reason he was not angry with Hand of Silver was that he had not had all that much contact with the cyborg. If he had the lungs with which to do so he would have sighed. He was angry, yes, but it was not burning rage that fuelled him like it had been before. This anger was cold and it was heavy; a weight in the pit of his stomach. How hard could it be to kill one goddamned blob? They had the combined might of the necromantic magics of Konka Rar, the advanced technology of Hand of Silver and the armies of meat of Gormand, at least in theory, and they could not bring down one homicidal blob? It was not as if Ekelhaft was a particularly cunning opponent. It did not employ complex strategy; it was simply consumption and chaos running virtually unchecked across every environment they had passed through. It was almost hilarious how pitiful a situation this was. Ziirphael might have actually chuckled to himself at this point; a grim half life of someone who finally recognises a sad truth they aren’t particularly surprised by.
If they could not stop Ekelhaft what realistic chance did they have against The Cultivator?
The answer was simple. They couldn’t do it. They did not have a hope in hell of bringing down The Cultivator.
It is sometimes hard to accept the truth. The idea that the thing you want most in the world is out of your reach and will likely remain that way no matter what you do is not a particularly palatable one. Perhaps, Ziirphael mused, if they had combined their efforts sooner? If Doctor Anarchy had not got herself killed, and maybe that guy with the knife as well. Diego, well he could still die, Ziirphael guessed, they could do just fine without his treachery. If they had worked together back then they might have had a shot. If they could convince Ekelhaft that she was the real enemy… then they might really have a shot. But that was wishful thinking and Ziirphael couldn’t entertain it, not even for a second. He’d accepted the bitter truth. Sat there on the side of the road in an almost empty town while the forces of one of his competitors and one of the ‘round hazards’ clashed overhead, Ziirphael swallowed down his pride. He bit down upon his anger and his desire for revenge and decided that he would have to simply be happy to make it through this thing in one piece, even if that meant playing The Cultivator’s game in earnest.
Ziirphael climbed to his feet and idly mused as he strolled down the street. If he was really was going to do this he would have to, at some point, think about how to kill one of the contestants that was not Ekelhaft. Even if you did not account for Konka’s control over this body, they still all had the advantage over him; Konka with his magic, Hoss his technology and Gormand his army. Ziirphael’s strong suit was his brute strength; in comparison it seemed somehow lacking. If this was to come down to him and someone else, he was not sure how he would hold his own. He thought about this as he watched the continuing battle overhead. Konka had been right. He needed to control his anger, with it he was predictable, an easy target that they could pick off at a later date. He needed to think, and to know when to strike. Betrayal of some kind seemed like the only way he would get through this battle alive.
Of course, that depended entirely on killing Ekelhaft. The blob was the one sticking point where all plans seemed to come unstuck.
Well, Ziirphael thought as she smeared himself with dried blood, maybe it was time to do something about that.
--------
Commander Las’healt was not in the best of moods as it was. This entire mission had gone from a simple retrieval of native creatures to an all out war with a type of creature that had gone completely unrecorded during scouting missions, and every time he thought that the situation could not get any worse it somehow did. He had just received a report that in his attempt to stop the saboteur he was haemorrhaging entire security teams, and despite their efforts one of the engines had been compromised anyway. Then there was a report that the engine failure had led to some unexpected problems, most notable of which was the temporary power failure to the Containment Hangar. It had lasted long enough to allow almost half of the varied alien specimens to escape captivity. The Hangar had gone into lockdown but it seemed unlikely to hold for long. And as if that had not been dispiriting enough he was now receiving reports that the integrity of the ship itself was being compromised by the clinging skin of meat, which was inexplicably slowly transforming whatever it was in contact with.
It had become apparent to the Commander that while they were slowly winning this war, the mothership itself was not going to make it. He was no captain, he had no obligation to go down with this ship, and what was more, wasn’t it more important that his forces had continued command from a competent and very much alive officer so as to best fight back the meat menace? He very much thought so. Commander Las’healt commanded that a transfer pod be prepared to move him from the mothership to… he glanced at the data he had available… The Shrik’aan. It was obviously just a coincidence that that happened to be the least damaged ship in their fleet. While the pod was being prepared he ordered some more security forces down to where the saboteur had last been sighted, extra security on all the engines, and extra security on him of course.
Heaven Help Us | Make Room!!!! | I'm Not Okay (I Promise)
Hang 'Em High | The Only Hope For Me Is You | Zero Percent | Early Sunsets Over Monroeville | DESTROYA | Demolition Lovers | To The End
Surrender The Night | Disenchanted | The Ghost Of You | Party Poison | Vampires Will Never Hurt You | The Jetset Life Is Gonna Kill You
Hang 'Em High | The Only Hope For Me Is You | Zero Percent | Early Sunsets Over Monroeville | DESTROYA | Demolition Lovers | To The End
Surrender The Night | Disenchanted | The Ghost Of You | Party Poison | Vampires Will Never Hurt You | The Jetset Life Is Gonna Kill You