Re: The Gradual Massacre (GBS2G4) [Round 2: The Museum]
09-26-2010, 06:46 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Godbot.
It's not difficult to kill an Ouroborite - they're large, they're clumsy, and they're fragile. If you see one before it sees you, killing it is as simple as finding something heavy to throw.
The second Pluck's mutilated carcass lay in silence. The cold, pale floor was streaked with purple blood-fluid, marking where the swarm had passed.
Killing a lot of Ouroborites is harder. Assuming they're not occupied with devouring each other alive, a swarm has eyes everywhere. If even one of them picks up the smell of blood, its pheromone gas will alert the others. Not to mention, in groups they have that nasty paralyzing screech. If you kill only one Ouroborite, the others will eat it for nutrients to hatch a dozen more.
Parts of Pluck had been ripped straight through, leaving nothing but cracked, stained bones behind. A few limbs had been torn off entirely. But other parts – the core, for instance, the warmest part of the body – had been left mostly intact, if perhaps bloated a little strangely. There were a few large gashes through his back.
That last detail is particularly troublesome. After consuming enough nutrients, an Ouroborite will either lay eggs in the last thing they killed or fertilize them, depending on gender. The carcass is used for warmth and nutrients, up until the offspring reaches its pupal state –
A scythelike claw stabbed through Pluck's upper back and raked through matted, bloodied fur. Another followed, creating a sizeable cross-shaped hole for a small Ouroborite to wriggle free of its improvised cocoon.
- and emerges from its host. Where an Ouroborite leaves victims, more Ouroborites will soon follow.
Killing one Ouroborite is easy.
Pluck erupted in a flurry of claws and mandibles. One insect parted his broken ribs on its way out. Another turned to rip and claw at what was left of his remaining arm. Fabric and skin fell away in swathes.
Killing several Ouroborites is difficult.
In the distance, a battered animatronic torturer collapsed under the weight of several Ouroborites emerging from it all at once. The remains of his victim followed. In the distance, more burst open, splattering oil and synthesized blood. Claws sheared through circuitry in search of meat.
Killing Ouroborous – utter extermination of the entire moving ecosystem of insects, killing and eating and seeding and spreading, turning its prey into hives and spawning more within an hour – is nearly impossible.
Ouroborites gathered from all directions, homing in on the remains that their parent group had left them. After a few moments' gnashing and tearing, they moved on as one, in search of fresher prey. A few outliers remained, scouring Pluck's corpse for any remaining morsels. Gradually, they moved on, prompted by the scent of pheromone gas.
The following silence was broken by a sharp crack as a dawdling Ouroborite pulled a loose vertebra from Pluck's back. It picked at the chunk of bone with its inner mandibles for a moment before tossing it aside.
Something on the tail of a lingering Ouroborite caught on Pluck's ribcage as it climbed down his back. It toppled from its vertical perch and flopped to the floor, face-up, writhing and squirming and chittering. A fellow straggler fluttered over, zeroing in on its comrade – easy prey. It lunged forward, baring two sets of mandibles and a pair of claws to hack and slash at a soft underbelly.
Something on the tail of a lingering Ouroborite flicked back and hammered into its attacker's back - something sharp and heavy and merciless, like the blade of a guillotine. A reflex. A broken shriek of pain. Fluids splatter from sundered carapace. With a twist and a shove, it fell away, broken, and the lingering Ouroborite wriggled onto its belly, fluttering its wings to right itself.
The second Ouroborite's mutilated carcass lay in silence. The cold, pale floor was streaked with purple blood-fluid, marking where the swarm had passed.
Well!
A man steeples his fingers and leans forward, watching the flickering glow of his screens as the stray rips and tears and eats.
Now isn't that interesting.
It's not difficult to kill an Ouroborite - they're large, they're clumsy, and they're fragile. If you see one before it sees you, killing it is as simple as finding something heavy to throw.
The second Pluck's mutilated carcass lay in silence. The cold, pale floor was streaked with purple blood-fluid, marking where the swarm had passed.
Killing a lot of Ouroborites is harder. Assuming they're not occupied with devouring each other alive, a swarm has eyes everywhere. If even one of them picks up the smell of blood, its pheromone gas will alert the others. Not to mention, in groups they have that nasty paralyzing screech. If you kill only one Ouroborite, the others will eat it for nutrients to hatch a dozen more.
Parts of Pluck had been ripped straight through, leaving nothing but cracked, stained bones behind. A few limbs had been torn off entirely. But other parts – the core, for instance, the warmest part of the body – had been left mostly intact, if perhaps bloated a little strangely. There were a few large gashes through his back.
That last detail is particularly troublesome. After consuming enough nutrients, an Ouroborite will either lay eggs in the last thing they killed or fertilize them, depending on gender. The carcass is used for warmth and nutrients, up until the offspring reaches its pupal state –
A scythelike claw stabbed through Pluck's upper back and raked through matted, bloodied fur. Another followed, creating a sizeable cross-shaped hole for a small Ouroborite to wriggle free of its improvised cocoon.
- and emerges from its host. Where an Ouroborite leaves victims, more Ouroborites will soon follow.
Killing one Ouroborite is easy.
Pluck erupted in a flurry of claws and mandibles. One insect parted his broken ribs on its way out. Another turned to rip and claw at what was left of his remaining arm. Fabric and skin fell away in swathes.
Killing several Ouroborites is difficult.
In the distance, a battered animatronic torturer collapsed under the weight of several Ouroborites emerging from it all at once. The remains of his victim followed. In the distance, more burst open, splattering oil and synthesized blood. Claws sheared through circuitry in search of meat.
Killing Ouroborous – utter extermination of the entire moving ecosystem of insects, killing and eating and seeding and spreading, turning its prey into hives and spawning more within an hour – is nearly impossible.
Ouroborites gathered from all directions, homing in on the remains that their parent group had left them. After a few moments' gnashing and tearing, they moved on as one, in search of fresher prey. A few outliers remained, scouring Pluck's corpse for any remaining morsels. Gradually, they moved on, prompted by the scent of pheromone gas.
The following silence was broken by a sharp crack as a dawdling Ouroborite pulled a loose vertebra from Pluck's back. It picked at the chunk of bone with its inner mandibles for a moment before tossing it aside.
Something on the tail of a lingering Ouroborite caught on Pluck's ribcage as it climbed down his back. It toppled from its vertical perch and flopped to the floor, face-up, writhing and squirming and chittering. A fellow straggler fluttered over, zeroing in on its comrade – easy prey. It lunged forward, baring two sets of mandibles and a pair of claws to hack and slash at a soft underbelly.
Something on the tail of a lingering Ouroborite flicked back and hammered into its attacker's back - something sharp and heavy and merciless, like the blade of a guillotine. A reflex. A broken shriek of pain. Fluids splatter from sundered carapace. With a twist and a shove, it fell away, broken, and the lingering Ouroborite wriggled onto its belly, fluttering its wings to right itself.
The second Ouroborite's mutilated carcass lay in silence. The cold, pale floor was streaked with purple blood-fluid, marking where the swarm had passed.
Well!
A man steeples his fingers and leans forward, watching the flickering glow of his screens as the stray rips and tears and eats.
Now isn't that interesting.