Re: The Great Belligerency [Round 2: New Shambhala]
12-28-2010, 10:57 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by SleepingOrange.
Had she been at full power, Ur wouldn't have needed even to move to find her targets. Or, for that matter, eliminate them. Divine senses would have pierced through physical and magical barriers even if they had been miles away, and a simple effort of will would have stopped their hearts, or exploded their heads, or replaced their blood with molten lead. Anything was possible, and none of it was difficult. However, as the ghosts welled up within her, they drowned out all but the most mundane of senses, and even those swam and warped as though through heat mirages and some rather exotic hallucinogens. Her powers, too, were near unavailable; trying to do much more than the divine equivalent of parlor tricks was so impossible as to not be worth trying.
She flew at apparently-random around New Shambhala, occasionally plunging through the reinforced hull as her garbled senses hinted one of her targets might be below. When it inevitably wasn't what she was searching for, the maddened goddess would indiscriminately slaughter those unfortunate sapients that happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Her actions had thus far served to advance her own goals little, but there were a few observers who were only too enthusiastic to spin her chaos towards their own ends. She was just human enough in appearance and just indiscriminate enough in her killing to make an excellent propaganda tool for certain fearmongering forces.
This continued for some time, the fury of being unable to find those she really wanted to destroy tempered somewhat by the bloody satisfaction that came with every snuffed life. Any survivors left were not spared out of mercy or balance or even for the political reasons many other contestants were picking their targets for, but were simply left breathing and soaked with the ichor of their friends and family because by now even Ur's most basic mundane senses were failing her and every moment left her reason more and more muffled and warped. Of course, this meant that by simple statistics since humans were more numerous than any other species, humans were most likely to be among the survivors of any given attack. It was all rather convenient, from a certain point of view.
Still, even the most convenient and apparently-cooperative natural disasters are bound to turn unfortunate, and in her current state (or near lack) of mind, that was the best way to describe the shrieking avatar of death. So it was now, as Ur was finally able to locate one of her targets.
There came a creaking sound from above Phil, followed by several loud crashes and the sound of metal splintering. He was easily able to avoid the debris that crashed down, but as he turned to see what had caused the ceiling to cave in, he was confronted by a rather surprising sight. Ur was lunging towards him, quill-glove scything through the air; more disconcerting than that, however, was the fact that every bit of her seemed to be twitching: her face was quivering, her limbs jerked erratically, and her body as a whole looked like it was in danger of flying off in twenty different directions at once. The air was full of her screams of "I will shred your soul, Phil Girnham!", but even through the piercing scream, he could hear quieter moaning voices lamenting things like "Left you to..." and "... of your every blessing..." as though they were inside his own head.
Ur was out for blood.
Had she been at full power, Ur wouldn't have needed even to move to find her targets. Or, for that matter, eliminate them. Divine senses would have pierced through physical and magical barriers even if they had been miles away, and a simple effort of will would have stopped their hearts, or exploded their heads, or replaced their blood with molten lead. Anything was possible, and none of it was difficult. However, as the ghosts welled up within her, they drowned out all but the most mundane of senses, and even those swam and warped as though through heat mirages and some rather exotic hallucinogens. Her powers, too, were near unavailable; trying to do much more than the divine equivalent of parlor tricks was so impossible as to not be worth trying.
She flew at apparently-random around New Shambhala, occasionally plunging through the reinforced hull as her garbled senses hinted one of her targets might be below. When it inevitably wasn't what she was searching for, the maddened goddess would indiscriminately slaughter those unfortunate sapients that happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Her actions had thus far served to advance her own goals little, but there were a few observers who were only too enthusiastic to spin her chaos towards their own ends. She was just human enough in appearance and just indiscriminate enough in her killing to make an excellent propaganda tool for certain fearmongering forces.
This continued for some time, the fury of being unable to find those she really wanted to destroy tempered somewhat by the bloody satisfaction that came with every snuffed life. Any survivors left were not spared out of mercy or balance or even for the political reasons many other contestants were picking their targets for, but were simply left breathing and soaked with the ichor of their friends and family because by now even Ur's most basic mundane senses were failing her and every moment left her reason more and more muffled and warped. Of course, this meant that by simple statistics since humans were more numerous than any other species, humans were most likely to be among the survivors of any given attack. It was all rather convenient, from a certain point of view.
Still, even the most convenient and apparently-cooperative natural disasters are bound to turn unfortunate, and in her current state (or near lack) of mind, that was the best way to describe the shrieking avatar of death. So it was now, as Ur was finally able to locate one of her targets.
There came a creaking sound from above Phil, followed by several loud crashes and the sound of metal splintering. He was easily able to avoid the debris that crashed down, but as he turned to see what had caused the ceiling to cave in, he was confronted by a rather surprising sight. Ur was lunging towards him, quill-glove scything through the air; more disconcerting than that, however, was the fact that every bit of her seemed to be twitching: her face was quivering, her limbs jerked erratically, and her body as a whole looked like it was in danger of flying off in twenty different directions at once. The air was full of her screams of "I will shred your soul, Phil Girnham!", but even through the piercing scream, he could hear quieter moaning voices lamenting things like "Left you to..." and "... of your every blessing..." as though they were inside his own head.
Ur was out for blood.