Re: The Battle Royale S2 [Round 2: Prospect Creek]
01-27-2011, 03:38 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by slipsicle.
Sirius let out a grunt of disgust. Flying ants. The effort of considering the ridiculousness of the sight before him was simply too taxing; everything was ridiculous, and it would only get worse. He spread his wings, and flew to meet the army of flying ants.
---
Jeremy tried to groan, only to be rewarded with a dry coughing fit. He rolled over onto his stomach and struggled to push himself to his knees. As he pushed against the ground, however, he found one of his hands met no resistance, and fell back onto his stomach. He squinted blearily at the offending hand, and found that it was falling into... a book?
Jeremy's starved, dehydrated, feverish, and still thoroughly intoxicated mind took some time to make sense of this oddity. He lay there, waggling fingers he couldn't see, occasionally feeling... well he wasn't exactly sure what he was feeling on the other side of that book. Finally it clicked. Somehow, in opening the book, he'd formed a link to... somewhere else. The hand wasn't doing him any good in figuring out where, so he resolved to stick some better-equipped sensory organs through. Mainly, his face.
He dragged the book over to his head, still too drained to get off the ground. With great effort, he raised his head and positioned the book underneath, then plopped his face down and through the linnnnnn-
Jeremy is falling. Sleremy is a rainbow! Joobooby is Vandrel Reinhardt, and he is in a battle similar to yours. Flimery floats through words which glisten as he tastes them.
Yardermy a-minor's his head to the b-flat, and_.______________.___rv___________________.te______________________he
Yardermy a-minor's his head to the b-flat, and__.___________.___.u__.y_________________h__.l___________________.t__.m
Yardermy a-minor's his head to the b-flat, and_.l____________.__c_____w______________c_____.l_________________k____._o
Yardermy a-minor's his head to the b-flat, and_._.i__________._o________.o__________.i__________h________.____e____.____.u
Yardermy a-minor's his head to the b-flat, and__.__.s____.__t______________r_____.h_______________i________.e______________t
Yardermy a-minor's his head to the b-flat, and___.____tens______.___________ds w___________________m to s____________________.
Triremery opens his mouth and smells come out. "Wwwwwooooo"ooooowwwatching the letters swirl around him, Gerrumpery giggles at the blue w's which crawl across his skin and if you are hearing this, then you, too are screaming through a tunnel of sound.
Hopermermy feels a <font color="#74ffff">red noise approaching, and can hear
Wardell stared at Umbra. Umbra stared at Wardell. Wardell's scarf stared at the Photographer. Jeremy's face erupted through the book with a decidedly weak "Fuck." Umbra, being Umbra, predictably did Umbra-things. Mainly, open its mouth and emit its rushing-wind scream and then try to kill everything. Jeremy was still trying to process what he was pretty sure was a mental breakdown when a figure quite literally from his nightmares descended upon the wonderful target of his immobile face. Jeremy screamed. Umbra screamed. Wardell's scarf screamed. The Photographer screamed and the glass dome shattered. The dusty ground turned into a pancake and the sky rained maple syrup and hot butter. A syrup wave caught the book housing Jeremy's face just before Umbra could do any real damage and carried it away. Jeremy drew another breath to continue screaming and inhaled sticky sugary goodness. His body spasmed, and involuntarily jerked his head out of the book. There was a moment of pancakey craziness and then he was back in the middle of nowhere with a book bleeding maple syrup.
His heart was pounding, his head was throbbing, he was hacking up sticky brown liquid and he was probably only about an hour away from dying due to exposure, but at least he felt awake, finally. Adrenaline buzzed through his limbs as he closed the book, picked it up and shakily got to his feet. He looked around. Of the annoying little raccoon which had led him out here there was no sign. Jeremy wavered slightly and brought a hand to his face to try and rub the drunk out of his eyes. It didn't work.
"Jeff," he muttered to himself. "Gotta... find Geoff. H'llno whattado." A flash from somewhere above him nearly startled him back onto the ground, and the rumbling shockwave of an explosion which followed sent him flailing onto his rear. He looked up to see an army of giant flying ants doing battle with the perpetually-angry angel. Jeremy's vision was suffering from the multiple toxins flowing through his dehydrated, nutrition-deprived system, but he was fairly certain that he could make out five or four or three or two figures on the ants. And at least three of them looked like Geoff. Or maybe it was five. Or none. Or one. He wasn't sure.
Still, it was enough for him. Jeremy fell backwards, flat on his back, and began drunkenly spasming his arms and legs in hopes it would be noticeable. He also started yelling for good measure.
"JEEEEEEEEFFFFFFFFFF. JJJJJJJJEEEEEEEEEEHHHFFFFFF. IIIIII GOTTTA TAAAAALLKKKKKK. TOOO YOOOOOUUUUUUUUU."
---
Geoff was clinging on for dear life to the fire-ant's antennae, and he was pretty sure it didn't like him much. He pressed himself against the ant's body to lower his center of gravity, and in doing so he got a good look at the ground, and at a figure making a terrible dust-angel. He was fairly certain he knew who it was.
When Jeremy's drunken wail reached his ears, Geoff decided he'd had enough of this flying-fire-ants-versus-angry-angel dogfight and punched his ant in the head a few times until it got the message and began a much-too-fast descent towards the ground. Above them, Sirius was slaughtering ant after ant, though for all the masses which were dying he didn't seem to be making much of a dent. And every minute, they were getting closer and closer.
Geoff tumbled off his ant as it rather clumsily landed. It immediately took off once more, bearing straight for Sirius. Jeremy had stumbled to his feet moments prior and fell, more than walked, towards Geoff.
"GEOFF. We hafta find th' curvy wordsh!"
"... what?"
"TH'CURVY WORDSH, MAN. They tashted like... like beezz and they shaid... they said to seek'em out and uhhh... I deshided you should help. Yeah." Jeremy swayed uncertainly as he waited for Geoff's response.
"Uh. Jeremy, I think you've been hallucinating."
"NO MAN, THEY SHAID," Jeremy gesticulated so hard he nearly lost his balance,"whooaa, uhh, the curvy wordsh shaid... uh... Vannel... Vendel... Vendrull Reynhard... theresh people inna doors, man! Some guy, Vandal Rennhert or... shomthin'. Alsho yur r'ly cute." Jeremy smiled, bent over, threw up, wiped his mouth with his sleeve, straightened, and continued smiling.
Geoff looked at the barely-standing drunken youth pityingly.
"... right. Look, Jeremy, why don't you tell me all about it while we walk back to town, ok? You look like you could use some... everything."
"Yuh. Yeah. 'K."
Geoff put a hand on Jeremy's shoulder, and the drunk leaned into the Hattalan's shoulder. Slowly, the pair made their way in the direction of the town, while the Bolivian-fire-ant air battle raged on above them.
Sirius let out a grunt of disgust. Flying ants. The effort of considering the ridiculousness of the sight before him was simply too taxing; everything was ridiculous, and it would only get worse. He spread his wings, and flew to meet the army of flying ants.
---
Jeremy tried to groan, only to be rewarded with a dry coughing fit. He rolled over onto his stomach and struggled to push himself to his knees. As he pushed against the ground, however, he found one of his hands met no resistance, and fell back onto his stomach. He squinted blearily at the offending hand, and found that it was falling into... a book?
Jeremy's starved, dehydrated, feverish, and still thoroughly intoxicated mind took some time to make sense of this oddity. He lay there, waggling fingers he couldn't see, occasionally feeling... well he wasn't exactly sure what he was feeling on the other side of that book. Finally it clicked. Somehow, in opening the book, he'd formed a link to... somewhere else. The hand wasn't doing him any good in figuring out where, so he resolved to stick some better-equipped sensory organs through. Mainly, his face.
He dragged the book over to his head, still too drained to get off the ground. With great effort, he raised his head and positioned the book underneath, then plopped his face down and through the linnnnnn-
Jeremy is falling. Sleremy is a rainbow! Joobooby is Vandrel Reinhardt, and he is in a battle similar to yours. Flimery floats through words which glisten as he tastes them.
Yardermy a-minor's his head to the b-flat, and_.______________.___rv___________________.te______________________he
Yardermy a-minor's his head to the b-flat, and__.___________.___.u__.y_________________h__.l___________________.t__.m
Yardermy a-minor's his head to the b-flat, and_.l____________.__c_____w______________c_____.l_________________k____._o
Yardermy a-minor's his head to the b-flat, and_._.i__________._o________.o__________.i__________h________.____e____.____.u
Yardermy a-minor's his head to the b-flat, and__.__.s____.__t______________r_____.h_______________i________.e______________t
Yardermy a-minor's his head to the b-flat, and___.____tens______.___________ds w___________________m to s____________________.
Triremery opens his mouth and smells come out. "Wwwwwooooo"ooooowwwatching the letters swirl around him, Gerrumpery giggles at the blue w's which crawl across his skin and if you are hearing this, then you, too are screaming through a tunnel of sound.
Hopermermy feels a <font color="#74ffff">red noise approaching, and can hear
his movement
as the end of the
tunnel grows in volume
</font>---as the end of the
tunnel grows in volume
Wardell stared at Umbra. Umbra stared at Wardell. Wardell's scarf stared at the Photographer. Jeremy's face erupted through the book with a decidedly weak "Fuck." Umbra, being Umbra, predictably did Umbra-things. Mainly, open its mouth and emit its rushing-wind scream and then try to kill everything. Jeremy was still trying to process what he was pretty sure was a mental breakdown when a figure quite literally from his nightmares descended upon the wonderful target of his immobile face. Jeremy screamed. Umbra screamed. Wardell's scarf screamed. The Photographer screamed and the glass dome shattered. The dusty ground turned into a pancake and the sky rained maple syrup and hot butter. A syrup wave caught the book housing Jeremy's face just before Umbra could do any real damage and carried it away. Jeremy drew another breath to continue screaming and inhaled sticky sugary goodness. His body spasmed, and involuntarily jerked his head out of the book. There was a moment of pancakey craziness and then he was back in the middle of nowhere with a book bleeding maple syrup.
His heart was pounding, his head was throbbing, he was hacking up sticky brown liquid and he was probably only about an hour away from dying due to exposure, but at least he felt awake, finally. Adrenaline buzzed through his limbs as he closed the book, picked it up and shakily got to his feet. He looked around. Of the annoying little raccoon which had led him out here there was no sign. Jeremy wavered slightly and brought a hand to his face to try and rub the drunk out of his eyes. It didn't work.
"Jeff," he muttered to himself. "Gotta... find Geoff. H'llno whattado." A flash from somewhere above him nearly startled him back onto the ground, and the rumbling shockwave of an explosion which followed sent him flailing onto his rear. He looked up to see an army of giant flying ants doing battle with the perpetually-angry angel. Jeremy's vision was suffering from the multiple toxins flowing through his dehydrated, nutrition-deprived system, but he was fairly certain that he could make out five or four or three or two figures on the ants. And at least three of them looked like Geoff. Or maybe it was five. Or none. Or one. He wasn't sure.
Still, it was enough for him. Jeremy fell backwards, flat on his back, and began drunkenly spasming his arms and legs in hopes it would be noticeable. He also started yelling for good measure.
"JEEEEEEEEFFFFFFFFFF. JJJJJJJJEEEEEEEEEEHHHFFFFFF. IIIIII GOTTTA TAAAAALLKKKKKK. TOOO YOOOOOUUUUUUUUU."
---
Geoff was clinging on for dear life to the fire-ant's antennae, and he was pretty sure it didn't like him much. He pressed himself against the ant's body to lower his center of gravity, and in doing so he got a good look at the ground, and at a figure making a terrible dust-angel. He was fairly certain he knew who it was.
When Jeremy's drunken wail reached his ears, Geoff decided he'd had enough of this flying-fire-ants-versus-angry-angel dogfight and punched his ant in the head a few times until it got the message and began a much-too-fast descent towards the ground. Above them, Sirius was slaughtering ant after ant, though for all the masses which were dying he didn't seem to be making much of a dent. And every minute, they were getting closer and closer.
Geoff tumbled off his ant as it rather clumsily landed. It immediately took off once more, bearing straight for Sirius. Jeremy had stumbled to his feet moments prior and fell, more than walked, towards Geoff.
"GEOFF. We hafta find th' curvy wordsh!"
"... what?"
"TH'CURVY WORDSH, MAN. They tashted like... like beezz and they shaid... they said to seek'em out and uhhh... I deshided you should help. Yeah." Jeremy swayed uncertainly as he waited for Geoff's response.
"Uh. Jeremy, I think you've been hallucinating."
"NO MAN, THEY SHAID," Jeremy gesticulated so hard he nearly lost his balance,"whooaa, uhh, the curvy wordsh shaid... uh... Vannel... Vendel... Vendrull Reynhard... theresh people inna doors, man! Some guy, Vandal Rennhert or... shomthin'. Alsho yur r'ly cute." Jeremy smiled, bent over, threw up, wiped his mouth with his sleeve, straightened, and continued smiling.
Geoff looked at the barely-standing drunken youth pityingly.
"... right. Look, Jeremy, why don't you tell me all about it while we walk back to town, ok? You look like you could use some... everything."
"Yuh. Yeah. 'K."
Geoff put a hand on Jeremy's shoulder, and the drunk leaned into the Hattalan's shoulder. Slowly, the pair made their way in the direction of the town, while the Bolivian-fire-ant air battle raged on above them.