Re: The Gradual Massacre (GBS2G4) [Round 4: Misty Swamp]
05-19-2011, 11:21 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.
The Countess just waited for a long, muddy moment, gears protesting against the mire. Ouroborites chittered as a disconnected chorus, the shriek of leg on chitin replaced with the weaker gnashing and gurgling of the horde’s last survivors. Each of them drowning alone.
The Countess was drowning, too - in static. A faint, desperate click-click-click was horribly audible above the rest of her ceaseless ticking, each click leaping with ever-fading faith into frequencies devoid of Control.
Nothing. The Controller had vanished.
His agent’s legs finally twitched and whirred back into reluctant life, and the amalgam rose from the swamp. It was difficult - her previously meticulous, graceful, clashing and whirring had been replaced with something disjointed and fighting against itself. Neither clockwork nor nanites could honestly be aided by a bath of thick mud; it just compounded on the Countess’ feelings of being lost and alone.
It was a swamp. Swamps were full of mud, which was just the kind of inauspicious start to her unwanted isolation that she’d never asked for. Exquisite. There were low voices out in the mist, approaching; the Countess just waited.
Sure enough, a lantern, followed by three silhouettes, materialised. One humanoid (holding the light), one hulking, and something hard to look at that glowed gently behind them.
“Please, help.”
The brute and the human glanced at each other, exchanging between them the lantern with a rounded device. With a glutinous, unpleasant sound, the latter jumped off the boardwalk and waded toward the Countess.
“Shut down your communication system.”
“Pardon? I’m not sure what you-”
The Countess tried to feign ignorance. The human was so unimpressed, he flickered out of existence before reappearing with a splash behind the amalgam. Slapping the device on a shoulder blade, he leapt back to his companions upon the boardwalk and took his torch back.
“Your possession of such dangerous instance is known,” rumbled the large one, not sounding particularly unfriendly. It lifted a shaggy paw, holding a coil of rope. “Assistance, explainment acquired proper upon co-operation, processes due concurring.”
“That’s an explosive charge on your back,” added the human. The mutual dislike was almost instant.
The Countess just waited for a long, muddy moment, gears protesting against the mire. Ouroborites chittered as a disconnected chorus, the shriek of leg on chitin replaced with the weaker gnashing and gurgling of the horde’s last survivors. Each of them drowning alone.
The Countess was drowning, too - in static. A faint, desperate click-click-click was horribly audible above the rest of her ceaseless ticking, each click leaping with ever-fading faith into frequencies devoid of Control.
Nothing. The Controller had vanished.
His agent’s legs finally twitched and whirred back into reluctant life, and the amalgam rose from the swamp. It was difficult - her previously meticulous, graceful, clashing and whirring had been replaced with something disjointed and fighting against itself. Neither clockwork nor nanites could honestly be aided by a bath of thick mud; it just compounded on the Countess’ feelings of being lost and alone.
It was a swamp. Swamps were full of mud, which was just the kind of inauspicious start to her unwanted isolation that she’d never asked for. Exquisite. There were low voices out in the mist, approaching; the Countess just waited.
Sure enough, a lantern, followed by three silhouettes, materialised. One humanoid (holding the light), one hulking, and something hard to look at that glowed gently behind them.
“Please, help.”
The brute and the human glanced at each other, exchanging between them the lantern with a rounded device. With a glutinous, unpleasant sound, the latter jumped off the boardwalk and waded toward the Countess.
“Shut down your communication system.”
“Pardon? I’m not sure what you-”
The Countess tried to feign ignorance. The human was so unimpressed, he flickered out of existence before reappearing with a splash behind the amalgam. Slapping the device on a shoulder blade, he leapt back to his companions upon the boardwalk and took his torch back.
“Your possession of such dangerous instance is known,” rumbled the large one, not sounding particularly unfriendly. It lifted a shaggy paw, holding a coil of rope. “Assistance, explainment acquired proper upon co-operation, processes due concurring.”
“That’s an explosive charge on your back,” added the human. The mutual dislike was almost instant.
peace to the unsung peace to the martyrs | i'm johnny rotten appleseed
clouds is shaky love | broke as hell but i got a bunch of ringtones
eyes blood red bruise aubergine | Sue took something now Sue doesn't sleep | saint average, day in the life of
woke up in the noon smelling doom and death | out the house, great outdoors
staying warm in arctic blizzard | that's my battle 'til I get inanimate | still up in the same clothes living like a gameshow
clouds is shaky love | broke as hell but i got a bunch of ringtones
eyes blood red bruise aubergine | Sue took something now Sue doesn't sleep | saint average, day in the life of
woke up in the noon smelling doom and death | out the house, great outdoors
staying warm in arctic blizzard | that's my battle 'til I get inanimate | still up in the same clothes living like a gameshow