Re: The Great Belligerency [Round 2: New Shambhala]
05-25-2011, 07:56 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by MalkyTop.
It was certainly too much to ask a group of, albeit well-armed and well-armored, normal humans to fight against a rather enraged goddess. However, once Epsilon squad regrouped and shuffled about a bit in embarrassment while their leader didn’t talk about how they abandoned him in battle (which is worse than him talking about it), they did a fine job in following orders and confronting the high-threat terrorist enemy plant woman thing.
The squad leader was fairly certain that there was no possible way to take the terrorist alive and it seemed as though she was refusing the ‘dead’ option as well. They weren’t even allowed to touch her. If any soldier dared to scoot close, a thrashing plant thing would bar the way much like a bouncer. A bouncer for a very well-liked prostitute.
They managed to get into some sort of organized attack formation with half of the troop dealing with the insane plant monsters and the other half standing behind them and firing wildly at the crazy plant woman. It was working in the way that they weren’t dying a lot, but it seemed to completely fail in getting to their overall goal, i.e., defeating the bouncers and bagging the prostitute.
The squad leader felt as though the terrorist was eyeing him judgmentally, despite being completely insane. He felt pressured to meet her expectations. Whatever they were. If she even had any. “Fire at the ceiling above her!” he barked. This was a horrible idea. The Epsilon squad complied.
The terrorist seemed to shy away from their rifle blasts but avoided full-out fleeing until the rubble actually started hitting her. She lurched to the side as the floor above collapsed, lingered threateningly, then whisked herself away down the hall.
It took a moment to beat down the plant monsters and another to squeeze through the newly-made pile of rubble, but the Epsilon squad bravely gave chase, following the trail of writhing ivy down the stairs, down another thrumming hall, down down down down down. In the meantime, the squad leader’s sense of unease spiked up and continued to do so until his suspicions were proven when the trail of ivy led straight to the engine room. Then it tumbled up some Escher staircases for an eternity.
He took it upon himself to peek through the open door. The terrorist was there, among the thrumming engines, staring into space. “We’re going in,” he said through a dry throat. “But be careful. We need to sneak in and try to drive her out. Don’t damage the engines.” The last part didn’t really need saying, though it did need emphasizing because in a dramatic twist of events, the engines get damaged.
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“Shoot him. Shoothimshoothimshoothim—“
“Shut up, please.”
There had been squabbles, squabbles about how to kill him (heroes don’t use guuu~ns siii~llyyy~), squabbles about what sort of entrance (prefer none at all thank you), squabbles about the manner in which he was performing the kill (nobody can seeeeee~ yooo~u you need to be seeeeee~n, not on this roooooo~f)…squabbles of all sorts. But as time went on, these squabbles had become worryingly short as Soft continued to concede, apparently desperate enough for a story to gain some closure in order to feel better that she was willing to allow certain details to simply not go as she wanted them to.
And now she had just shut up when he asked.
As the sounds of the chaos in the streets drowned away, Ratfink stared down the scope at the figure behind the window. Vanhardt was just standing there. All alone. Nobody to protect him. An easy shot.
Well, actually he was being protected by someone and although Ratfink would never admit it, he felt a chill imagining a scope trained on him. His finger tensed against the trigger.
Soft gave him a glare that said ’shoothimshoothimshoothimnow’. Vanhardt paced around invitingly. He was probably going to die right here, whether by axe or by firearm.
And then there was a violent shudder, which turned into a violenter shudder. While Ratfink and Soft found themselves largely unaffected, they could see Vanhardt stumbling and falling on the floor. The building they were on rattled before everything settled down. There was a loud explosion and then more shuddering. Then there was the strange tickly feeling that usually came with vertigo.
It didn’t take long for Ratfink to realize something. “Oh, we’re falling.”
“Oh darn!” Soft said, momentarily forgetting about shutting up. “I was going to destroy the thingies!” Ratfink could tell, however, that she sorely appreciated the closure.
It was certainly too much to ask a group of, albeit well-armed and well-armored, normal humans to fight against a rather enraged goddess. However, once Epsilon squad regrouped and shuffled about a bit in embarrassment while their leader didn’t talk about how they abandoned him in battle (which is worse than him talking about it), they did a fine job in following orders and confronting the high-threat terrorist enemy plant woman thing.
The squad leader was fairly certain that there was no possible way to take the terrorist alive and it seemed as though she was refusing the ‘dead’ option as well. They weren’t even allowed to touch her. If any soldier dared to scoot close, a thrashing plant thing would bar the way much like a bouncer. A bouncer for a very well-liked prostitute.
They managed to get into some sort of organized attack formation with half of the troop dealing with the insane plant monsters and the other half standing behind them and firing wildly at the crazy plant woman. It was working in the way that they weren’t dying a lot, but it seemed to completely fail in getting to their overall goal, i.e., defeating the bouncers and bagging the prostitute.
The squad leader felt as though the terrorist was eyeing him judgmentally, despite being completely insane. He felt pressured to meet her expectations. Whatever they were. If she even had any. “Fire at the ceiling above her!” he barked. This was a horrible idea. The Epsilon squad complied.
The terrorist seemed to shy away from their rifle blasts but avoided full-out fleeing until the rubble actually started hitting her. She lurched to the side as the floor above collapsed, lingered threateningly, then whisked herself away down the hall.
It took a moment to beat down the plant monsters and another to squeeze through the newly-made pile of rubble, but the Epsilon squad bravely gave chase, following the trail of writhing ivy down the stairs, down another thrumming hall, down down down down down. In the meantime, the squad leader’s sense of unease spiked up and continued to do so until his suspicions were proven when the trail of ivy led straight to the engine room. Then it tumbled up some Escher staircases for an eternity.
He took it upon himself to peek through the open door. The terrorist was there, among the thrumming engines, staring into space. “We’re going in,” he said through a dry throat. “But be careful. We need to sneak in and try to drive her out. Don’t damage the engines.” The last part didn’t really need saying, though it did need emphasizing because in a dramatic twist of events, the engines get damaged.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Shoot him. Shoothimshoothimshoothim—“
“Shut up, please.”
There had been squabbles, squabbles about how to kill him (heroes don’t use guuu~ns siii~llyyy~), squabbles about what sort of entrance (prefer none at all thank you), squabbles about the manner in which he was performing the kill (nobody can seeeeee~ yooo~u you need to be seeeeee~n, not on this roooooo~f)…squabbles of all sorts. But as time went on, these squabbles had become worryingly short as Soft continued to concede, apparently desperate enough for a story to gain some closure in order to feel better that she was willing to allow certain details to simply not go as she wanted them to.
And now she had just shut up when he asked.
As the sounds of the chaos in the streets drowned away, Ratfink stared down the scope at the figure behind the window. Vanhardt was just standing there. All alone. Nobody to protect him. An easy shot.
Well, actually he was being protected by someone and although Ratfink would never admit it, he felt a chill imagining a scope trained on him. His finger tensed against the trigger.
Soft gave him a glare that said ’shoothimshoothimshoothimnow’. Vanhardt paced around invitingly. He was probably going to die right here, whether by axe or by firearm.
And then there was a violent shudder, which turned into a violenter shudder. While Ratfink and Soft found themselves largely unaffected, they could see Vanhardt stumbling and falling on the floor. The building they were on rattled before everything settled down. There was a loud explosion and then more shuddering. Then there was the strange tickly feeling that usually came with vertigo.
It didn’t take long for Ratfink to realize something. “Oh, we’re falling.”
“Oh darn!” Soft said, momentarily forgetting about shutting up. “I was going to destroy the thingies!” Ratfink could tell, however, that she sorely appreciated the closure.