Re: The Glorious Championship! [S3G5] [Round One: The "Denny's"]
06-07-2011, 10:37 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by engineclock.
Cailean was still in shock. Somewhere under his cuirass his heart was hammering itself against the dented metal like it was trying to work its way out of him, but it was a distant feeling and he wasn’t so sure that the damn thing was his anymore. He felt the centipede coil up by his side; the motion rolled through what was left of his shoulder and went deep inside his back, writhing like a snake trapped inside his spine. He would have retched if he’d been fully aware of the sensation. It was far away, though, like it was happening to someone else, someone standing next to him and he was only watching.
The sound of his arm being torn away echoed in his gut. The shattering pop of the socket emptying and the soft but terrible tearing of muscle, like a hand sliding over cloth, a harsh whispering of fibers peeled away in layers and cracking under his skin, all the fluids draining out and running like red-hot rivers down the rest of him. Like a bug being crushed under a boot, but wetter, like fingers buried deep into him and pulling away handfuls of flesh like weeds, coming out in soft, soft clumps and the rivers running back down into the ground and over his hands on the way there, surging and howling and swallowing everything in their path. It wasn’t the first time he’d felt himself lose that arm, but it was the first time he’d heard it. It was worse than he could have imagined, that sound. He would rather have lost that arm five times over than had to listen to it go just once.
The noise was still with him as he edged numbly towards the door. The wolf-skinned man had by all appearances collapsed in a bloody, furry heap, pitifully small against the towering Sentinel. The thing was glaring at him and Gaurinn balefully, or maybe just one of them; Cailean didn’t know where to draw the line and didn’t really care. Nerves in his chest and back spasmed fitfully as the centipede tried to electrocute the glass-and-metal behemoth again. It didn’t work any more than it had the first time and Gaurinn swore, loudly, but he wasn’t paying attention. His knife- Maowyn’s knife- was on the other side of the Sentinel and he needed it back.
{ni.NE]
Gaurinn’s claws were scrambling frantically at the ruined control pad, sending frequent small burst of electricity through it. The doors twitched a little and shuddered, but Cailean knew- felt- that Gaurinn didn’t think this was going to be enough. The soldier’s eyes took in the rest of the room; he hadn’t really panicked in years and he wasn’t sure he remembered how anymore. Most of the area was bare metal gleaming under the floodlights, but above all he saw his dagger glittering far off on the ground-
five(5)
-maybe a few yards away, no, more than that. A lot more. He dove for it without thinking, suddenly surprised to find himself in the air and heavy- ”WHAT THE FUCK, CAILEAN?!”- too heavy. He crashed down on his non-altered shoulder and it buckled under his newfound weight. Ignoring this latest wave of bone-jarring agony, he half-ran-
TWO
-half-crawled towards the flash of white in the darkness, sliding wildly on the metal floor. Gaurinn thrashed and raged beside him, throwing Cailean roughly onto his back; he gritted his teeth and rolled, focused hopelessly on reaching the dagger. He didn’t have any other plans, he didn’t need them, if he was going to die than he just needed to reach for it-
“Cailean.”
It was hers-
“Cailean Lachlan.”
Everything froze.
And then she was there, serenely outshining the electric lights. She was a pale tower high above him, blocking out his view of the Sentinel, equal parts glorious and terrifying. Behind the arch of her wings, everything had frozen as if trapped in glass. Particles of dust stood perfectly still in the middle of nothing as the goddess bent her heron’s head down towards him.
“Ye’ve been hiding from me, child.”
Cailean lurched to his feet almost involuntarily, painfully aware of the weight of Gaurinn pulling him down. His tongue was suddenly dry. “Taccha Maowyn, no, I- I, no, I would-”
“I have,” she said, so coldly that Cailean thought he would freeze and crack where he stood, “been searching all the land for ye, canna find ye. Why for’s this, then? D’ye think to running? D’ye think I’d not come calling to ye?”
“No!” Cailean said, dazed. “No, Maowyn, I came here not by my choosing! Maowyn, I had no intention of leaving, even here I’ve- I’ve taken a soul for you already, Tachha, I’ve harmed nothing else- look!” He gestured to Gaurinn, who snarled and started to complain before the goddess snapped her beak sharply, making Cailean wince.
“What’s it? Ye’ve grown a great worm in the way of a new arm, boy. I canna say I be much impressed.”
“He- it was forced on me, I wasn’t given a choice!” The soldier was starting to get angry in spite of himself. In his experience Maowyn didn’t give a damn whose fault anything was, but he wasn’t going to let her blame him for getting his own arm torn off and replaced with a giant centipede.
She didn’t reply immediately, just stretched her wings and gave Gaurinn a long, silent stare. Behind her Cailean caught a glimpse of the Sentinel frozen in an awkward pose, jaw gaping. He felt the centipede bristle, and to his horror Gaurinn snarled furiously. “Oh brilliant, Cail. Just fucking brilliant. Bring a goddamn half-bird bitch to the party as well, why don’t you. I don’t suppose you’ve got any-”
“Maowyn, he doesn’t know!” Cail said frantically, shouting over his new arm’s resentful hissing. “He doesn’t know who you are, hold your mercy-!”
“Name of th’ five hells, child, canna ye keep that tongue o’ yours still for two beats of a Tachha’s heart?” The goddess said, thrashing the air with wings wider than the soldier was tall. She drew her neck back in on itself and clacked her beak indignantly. “The witching that binds the worm to ye be not a wholesome thing, boy. I canna ken any means ta' releasing ye. This be having the mark of a slyer sort than I, child. I liken not to the nettles ye’ve gotten yourself threshed in, nor the blighter what’s bound ye so.”
“Does ‘The Tormentor’ ring any bells?” Gaurinn snapped. “Big shadowy dickwad? Like to jam random people together and prance around like he owns the fucking place?’
“Ach! Be ye speaking not of such things, beast. The worm be a good match for ye, Cailean, neither the both of ye’s canna know when’s the time for silence.” She puffed up her wings and shivered, settling down again. “Whereabouts lies the blade I trusted t’ye, child, come the matter? Don’ tell me ye be tradin’ it away for this quick-tongued crawler so easily.”
Before Cailean could answer, the goddess stretched out a long-nailed hand, closed it, then opened it again, the all-too-familiar knife now lying on her palm. It flashed in an unseen light as she made a chuffing noise deep in her snaking neck. “Ye’ve surprised me this far, boy. Not failed me yet, nae y’aven’t. But I canna let ye get careless, now, these favors a’ mine come far and little between.” She held the knife out to Cailean, who took it hesitantly.
“My apologies, Tachha, I-”
“Jesus, Cailean, grow a spine already.” Gaurinn sparked angrily as Cailean did his best to elbow his own arm.
Maowyn made a noise halfway between a chuckle and a screech. “Hallow the day I claimed ye, child. I’ll have mine eyes on ye now, I will. These be ill twists a’ fate, indeed, that'cha find yeself in such a place.” She looked about, clearly uncaring as to her surroundings. Her eyes passed over the motionless Sentinel as if it was invisible to her.
“D’nae disappoint me. Ye be my champion still, and never ye go ta' forgetting it.”
Then she was gone, as quickly and silently as she’d come. All of the breath Cailean didn’t know he’d been holding came out in a rush, and he nearly dropped the dagger again in relief. Gaurinn snickered; the blessed soldier would have responded if the Sentinel’s fingers hadn’t suddenly twitched in their direction. Whatever Maowyn had done to freeze everything in place was rapidly wearing off. A low rumbling started up; the fused pair looked at each other as it started to rise in pitch.
Very quickly, the noise began to form the beginning of the word “one”.
The Sentinel was not aware that any time had passed. To it, the spaces between the numbers of its countdown had all been one perfectly measured second, dictated by its internal nuclear clock. When its rockets simultaneously fired with a roar that would have burst its eardrums if it had them, they were targeted on the precisely calculated absolute center of its quarry. It was impossible for it to miss. There was no way for the centipede-armed man to move out of the way in the time provided.
The Sentinel was very surprised, then, when in the last possible fraction of a second in its countdown the target flicked out of existence. The rockets exploded in a scream of tearing metal and burning air just as the Sentinel became aware that something very sharp had cut through its braincase; the precious liquid was spilling out and there was the tiniest, subtlest hint of ozone in the air before everything black came crashing down, down, down and the Sentinel ceased to be surprised any longer.
Cailean was still in shock. Somewhere under his cuirass his heart was hammering itself against the dented metal like it was trying to work its way out of him, but it was a distant feeling and he wasn’t so sure that the damn thing was his anymore. He felt the centipede coil up by his side; the motion rolled through what was left of his shoulder and went deep inside his back, writhing like a snake trapped inside his spine. He would have retched if he’d been fully aware of the sensation. It was far away, though, like it was happening to someone else, someone standing next to him and he was only watching.
The sound of his arm being torn away echoed in his gut. The shattering pop of the socket emptying and the soft but terrible tearing of muscle, like a hand sliding over cloth, a harsh whispering of fibers peeled away in layers and cracking under his skin, all the fluids draining out and running like red-hot rivers down the rest of him. Like a bug being crushed under a boot, but wetter, like fingers buried deep into him and pulling away handfuls of flesh like weeds, coming out in soft, soft clumps and the rivers running back down into the ground and over his hands on the way there, surging and howling and swallowing everything in their path. It wasn’t the first time he’d felt himself lose that arm, but it was the first time he’d heard it. It was worse than he could have imagined, that sound. He would rather have lost that arm five times over than had to listen to it go just once.
The noise was still with him as he edged numbly towards the door. The wolf-skinned man had by all appearances collapsed in a bloody, furry heap, pitifully small against the towering Sentinel. The thing was glaring at him and Gaurinn balefully, or maybe just one of them; Cailean didn’t know where to draw the line and didn’t really care. Nerves in his chest and back spasmed fitfully as the centipede tried to electrocute the glass-and-metal behemoth again. It didn’t work any more than it had the first time and Gaurinn swore, loudly, but he wasn’t paying attention. His knife- Maowyn’s knife- was on the other side of the Sentinel and he needed it back.
{ni.NE]
Gaurinn’s claws were scrambling frantically at the ruined control pad, sending frequent small burst of electricity through it. The doors twitched a little and shuddered, but Cailean knew- felt- that Gaurinn didn’t think this was going to be enough. The soldier’s eyes took in the rest of the room; he hadn’t really panicked in years and he wasn’t sure he remembered how anymore. Most of the area was bare metal gleaming under the floodlights, but above all he saw his dagger glittering far off on the ground-
five(5)
-maybe a few yards away, no, more than that. A lot more. He dove for it without thinking, suddenly surprised to find himself in the air and heavy- ”WHAT THE FUCK, CAILEAN?!”- too heavy. He crashed down on his non-altered shoulder and it buckled under his newfound weight. Ignoring this latest wave of bone-jarring agony, he half-ran-
TWO
-half-crawled towards the flash of white in the darkness, sliding wildly on the metal floor. Gaurinn thrashed and raged beside him, throwing Cailean roughly onto his back; he gritted his teeth and rolled, focused hopelessly on reaching the dagger. He didn’t have any other plans, he didn’t need them, if he was going to die than he just needed to reach for it-
“Cailean.”
It was hers-
“Cailean Lachlan.”
Everything froze.
And then she was there, serenely outshining the electric lights. She was a pale tower high above him, blocking out his view of the Sentinel, equal parts glorious and terrifying. Behind the arch of her wings, everything had frozen as if trapped in glass. Particles of dust stood perfectly still in the middle of nothing as the goddess bent her heron’s head down towards him.
“Ye’ve been hiding from me, child.”
Cailean lurched to his feet almost involuntarily, painfully aware of the weight of Gaurinn pulling him down. His tongue was suddenly dry. “Taccha Maowyn, no, I- I, no, I would-”
“I have,” she said, so coldly that Cailean thought he would freeze and crack where he stood, “been searching all the land for ye, canna find ye. Why for’s this, then? D’ye think to running? D’ye think I’d not come calling to ye?”
“No!” Cailean said, dazed. “No, Maowyn, I came here not by my choosing! Maowyn, I had no intention of leaving, even here I’ve- I’ve taken a soul for you already, Tachha, I’ve harmed nothing else- look!” He gestured to Gaurinn, who snarled and started to complain before the goddess snapped her beak sharply, making Cailean wince.
“What’s it? Ye’ve grown a great worm in the way of a new arm, boy. I canna say I be much impressed.”
“He- it was forced on me, I wasn’t given a choice!” The soldier was starting to get angry in spite of himself. In his experience Maowyn didn’t give a damn whose fault anything was, but he wasn’t going to let her blame him for getting his own arm torn off and replaced with a giant centipede.
She didn’t reply immediately, just stretched her wings and gave Gaurinn a long, silent stare. Behind her Cailean caught a glimpse of the Sentinel frozen in an awkward pose, jaw gaping. He felt the centipede bristle, and to his horror Gaurinn snarled furiously. “Oh brilliant, Cail. Just fucking brilliant. Bring a goddamn half-bird bitch to the party as well, why don’t you. I don’t suppose you’ve got any-”
“Maowyn, he doesn’t know!” Cail said frantically, shouting over his new arm’s resentful hissing. “He doesn’t know who you are, hold your mercy-!”
“Name of th’ five hells, child, canna ye keep that tongue o’ yours still for two beats of a Tachha’s heart?” The goddess said, thrashing the air with wings wider than the soldier was tall. She drew her neck back in on itself and clacked her beak indignantly. “The witching that binds the worm to ye be not a wholesome thing, boy. I canna ken any means ta' releasing ye. This be having the mark of a slyer sort than I, child. I liken not to the nettles ye’ve gotten yourself threshed in, nor the blighter what’s bound ye so.”
“Does ‘The Tormentor’ ring any bells?” Gaurinn snapped. “Big shadowy dickwad? Like to jam random people together and prance around like he owns the fucking place?’
“Ach! Be ye speaking not of such things, beast. The worm be a good match for ye, Cailean, neither the both of ye’s canna know when’s the time for silence.” She puffed up her wings and shivered, settling down again. “Whereabouts lies the blade I trusted t’ye, child, come the matter? Don’ tell me ye be tradin’ it away for this quick-tongued crawler so easily.”
Before Cailean could answer, the goddess stretched out a long-nailed hand, closed it, then opened it again, the all-too-familiar knife now lying on her palm. It flashed in an unseen light as she made a chuffing noise deep in her snaking neck. “Ye’ve surprised me this far, boy. Not failed me yet, nae y’aven’t. But I canna let ye get careless, now, these favors a’ mine come far and little between.” She held the knife out to Cailean, who took it hesitantly.
“My apologies, Tachha, I-”
“Jesus, Cailean, grow a spine already.” Gaurinn sparked angrily as Cailean did his best to elbow his own arm.
Maowyn made a noise halfway between a chuckle and a screech. “Hallow the day I claimed ye, child. I’ll have mine eyes on ye now, I will. These be ill twists a’ fate, indeed, that'cha find yeself in such a place.” She looked about, clearly uncaring as to her surroundings. Her eyes passed over the motionless Sentinel as if it was invisible to her.
“D’nae disappoint me. Ye be my champion still, and never ye go ta' forgetting it.”
Then she was gone, as quickly and silently as she’d come. All of the breath Cailean didn’t know he’d been holding came out in a rush, and he nearly dropped the dagger again in relief. Gaurinn snickered; the blessed soldier would have responded if the Sentinel’s fingers hadn’t suddenly twitched in their direction. Whatever Maowyn had done to freeze everything in place was rapidly wearing off. A low rumbling started up; the fused pair looked at each other as it started to rise in pitch.
Very quickly, the noise began to form the beginning of the word “one”.
The Sentinel was not aware that any time had passed. To it, the spaces between the numbers of its countdown had all been one perfectly measured second, dictated by its internal nuclear clock. When its rockets simultaneously fired with a roar that would have burst its eardrums if it had them, they were targeted on the precisely calculated absolute center of its quarry. It was impossible for it to miss. There was no way for the centipede-armed man to move out of the way in the time provided.
The Sentinel was very surprised, then, when in the last possible fraction of a second in its countdown the target flicked out of existence. The rockets exploded in a scream of tearing metal and burning air just as the Sentinel became aware that something very sharp had cut through its braincase; the precious liquid was spilling out and there was the tiniest, subtlest hint of ozone in the air before everything black came crashing down, down, down and the Sentinel ceased to be surprised any longer.
![[Image: tumblr_lkcuaxkx4S1qi1p6y.jpg]](https://media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lkcuaxkx4S1qi1p6y.jpg)