Re: The Great Belligerency [Round 3: Eternity Plateau]
07-03-2011, 08:31 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by SleepingOrange.
The round hadn't ended as soon as the ship began to fall, of course; Ur had spent the few minutes between her rampage and her disappearance thrashing aimlessly about, destroying areas near the city's engines and snuffing out those lives that hadn't already been cut short by interspecies warfare or her own creations. Had she been more lucid, she would probably have relished the sensation of descent and the knowledge that soon, every last life on board would end at her hands; as it was, she simply succumbed to the inborn urge to destroy, unable to plan or even truly conscious of the non-immediate consequences of her violent outbursts.
Soon, though, New Shambhala faded away, replaced by null space and the Executor's droning. She took none of it in, as what little of her mind remained was as ever swamped by the incessant droning of trapped souls, no more aware of the nature of this new setting than she had been of the Rainy Place when first put there. An endless plain, carpeted with golden blades of dried brush, formed, and Ur was dropped senseless on it.
As her bare feet collided with the ground, shoots burst out of the soil, writhing creepers that spread quickly; scalloped leaves unfurled so quickly that they made audible popping noises, and as Ur simply stared slack-jawed into nothing, swaying slightly on her feet, orangish flowers popped open, scattered and received pollen, and withered. Tiny, greenish fruitlets became small, yellow-orange balls then became, large, garishly-red melons. All the while, a dozen pairs of eyes watched her miraculous appearance and the fruit's astonishing growth.
At first, the goddess had simply been still because the shock of transfer from one round to the next had forced her fractured pseudopersonality into another mode, and she simply hadn't settled on which one yet; as the force of iron-hard belief hit her from a dozen sources, though, she was immobilized by uncertainty and an internal struggle for a dominant reality.
Eventually, she simply collapsed, her touch causing more plants to spring up from the parched, cracked soil. Twelve men and women spoke in hushed voices, their tones betraying confusion, fear, and primarily hope.
The round hadn't ended as soon as the ship began to fall, of course; Ur had spent the few minutes between her rampage and her disappearance thrashing aimlessly about, destroying areas near the city's engines and snuffing out those lives that hadn't already been cut short by interspecies warfare or her own creations. Had she been more lucid, she would probably have relished the sensation of descent and the knowledge that soon, every last life on board would end at her hands; as it was, she simply succumbed to the inborn urge to destroy, unable to plan or even truly conscious of the non-immediate consequences of her violent outbursts.
Soon, though, New Shambhala faded away, replaced by null space and the Executor's droning. She took none of it in, as what little of her mind remained was as ever swamped by the incessant droning of trapped souls, no more aware of the nature of this new setting than she had been of the Rainy Place when first put there. An endless plain, carpeted with golden blades of dried brush, formed, and Ur was dropped senseless on it.
As her bare feet collided with the ground, shoots burst out of the soil, writhing creepers that spread quickly; scalloped leaves unfurled so quickly that they made audible popping noises, and as Ur simply stared slack-jawed into nothing, swaying slightly on her feet, orangish flowers popped open, scattered and received pollen, and withered. Tiny, greenish fruitlets became small, yellow-orange balls then became, large, garishly-red melons. All the while, a dozen pairs of eyes watched her miraculous appearance and the fruit's astonishing growth.
At first, the goddess had simply been still because the shock of transfer from one round to the next had forced her fractured pseudopersonality into another mode, and she simply hadn't settled on which one yet; as the force of iron-hard belief hit her from a dozen sources, though, she was immobilized by uncertainty and an internal struggle for a dominant reality.
Eventually, she simply collapsed, her touch causing more plants to spring up from the parched, cracked soil. Twelve men and women spoke in hushed voices, their tones betraying confusion, fear, and primarily hope.