Re: Intense Struggle Season 2! (Round 1: Training Facility ONX)
07-22-2010, 07:41 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by bobthepen.
While Sarika and the others fought against the mechanized sentry, Lillian, waiting behind the hallway's sliding door, faced a battle of her own. It was not a physical battle, but rather one of choices. It was the type of choice that needed to be made when one is not entirely sure what is the right thing to do. Lillian heard the sounds of battle, the grinding, clanking, breaking, blasting and although she did not fully realize what was beyond the door (nor had she realized yet that she was partaking in a fight to the death), she knew very well through her own intuition and the guidance of the Kindred Spirit that something very dangerous was making those noises. This meant, she realized, that the caring winged woman was in the midst of that danger and that danger would threaten Lillian as well, should she choose to go through the door.
"She said to stay here," Lillian said to the Kindred Spirit, "and it's very important to do what a good adult tells you, especially in a situation like this."
The Kindred Spirit agreed.
"Oh but what if she gets hurt? or needs help? You should never leave a friend in trouble."
The Spirit said nothing.
At this a thunderous slam rumbled against the door frame, shaking the corridor. Instinctively, Lillian buried her head in her arms and brought her knees close to her curled body.
"I can't possibly. I'll stay right here. I'll..." An image appeared in Lillian's mind, interrupting her frightened speech. She recalled Sarika. Moments before running out of the corridor into the room beyond, the bird woman had stood, tense, pensive. It was a posture that belied the silky softness of her downy feathers. At the time, Lillian had thought it meant she was nervous or afraid, but reflecting on the image now, recalling her stern appearance and focused gaze, Lillian discovered it had not been a look of fear, but one of determination.
It was with this thought in mind that the scrawny young girl stood up, legs quivering, talisman clenched tightly in hand. Despite the protests of the Kindred Spirit, Lillian had made her choice. Sarika was her friend and if her friend was in danger she needed to be brave. With a stubborn resolution she stepped through the imposing door and into the sentinel's lair.
-------
In olden times, before cars or bikes or electricity, when witches and wizards lurked in the woods and magic was much more common than it is today, there was a creature known as the Rat King. It was a grotesque creature that formed when large beastly rats swarmed together, wallowing in the filth and mud and darkness they knew as their home. Their tails and fur would intertwine, creating a crawling orb of gnawing teeth and skritching claws. It was chaotic, nasty, deadly, and not entirely unlike the writhing mass of metal hands Lillian saw as she entered the dome-shaped room.
The hands, some swinging their weapons, most just grasping at whatever they could reach, had become so twisted and tangled that they moved about like the head of a metal Medusa. They scraped and sparked and screeched against one another, jerking and lurching, working to free themselves and attack all around them and becoming more and more entwined in the process.
Lillian frantically looked for Sarika. There was a large, dark-skinned man in the middle of the fray, one arm gripped firmly around a squirming metal wrist, the other launching a mass of shrapnel into the heart of the King of Hands. A furious woman with callous skin and six fibrous wings tore into some stragglers from the mass. There was chaos and fighting but aside from those strangers Lillian saw no one. Sarika was missing.
Then, in an instant, a glint of light directed the child's gaze upwards. Silhouetted against the light of the dome was the outstretched form of her winged guardian. Like the hawk of her people, Sarika, staff in hand, dove at her prey with unyielding focus. Skill and momentum on her side, the hawk woman struck the exposed wires and paneling. Then, as quickly as she descended, her nimble frame sprung off the metal foe and into the air once more. This she repeated, landing strike after strike, blow after blow. No single hit landing a killing mark, but her staff was sturdy and her foe confused, and every strike fueled by her determination to protect. Bit by bit she tore into the mass, victory edging ever closer.
And then Lillian screamed.
---
While the battle raged, the Kindred Spirit remained pensive yet vigilant. It checked the room, searching for any threat to its young charge. The dangers were plenty, but they kept their distance, occupied with other foes. The King of Hands held massive size and power, but it was cold and soulless. It carried no anger or malice and sought simply to carry out its instructions. The one known as Marcus White, a mix of man and machine, despite his fearsome appearance seemed calm and collected. The Volkhanbet's temperament , (was that what that "Monitor" being had said?), matched her external appearance perfectly, furious, self-focused, destructive. As for Sarika, the Kindred Spirit had already accepted her help begrudgingly. Her intentions were noble, almost motherly, and she had a genuine like for Lillian. She was, as Lillian had decided, a friend.
A stray piece of shrapnel launched toward Lillian, but the Spirit deflected it. The talisman that housed the Kindred Spirit allowed the guardian force's will to interact with the physical world. As long as the Kindred Spirit desired it, and the assault was weak enough, it could easily protect Lillian from harm. As long as its charge stayed away from the center of the fight, all should be fine.
Then the Spirit sensed it. It was faint at first, like a speck in the distance, but it approached with startling speed, and as it drew nearer its intensity grew. It was an aura of hate, rage. Not at any one particular thing, but at all of existence. The Kindred Spirit sensed a frustration and disillusionment, brought about by years of mistreatment and torture, unwarranted pain that had collected and congealed into a seething malice. The Spirit took only moments to figure out its source. It was a creature, it was massive, and it was under them.
Quickly, the Spirit warned Lillian as best it could. Something huge. Underneath. Very, very dangerous.
Lillian, heeding her Kindred Spirits warning and noting the urgency and seriousness of its message, cried out to the others.
"Everyone! There's something coming!"
The sound of the young girl's cry diverted Sarika's attention just as she landed another blow. In that moment a lunging hand clasped her from behind, pinning the prophet's wing to her side. In the same moment, the room shook. Dekowin jumped towards the outer wall, but Marcus, grappling arm to arm with the groping monstrosity, stayed his ground. The walls of the dome trembled, and the floor, battered by masses of mechanical hands and countless strikes, began to give way.
The Spirit remained tense, the light in the talisman glowing an azure blue. It felt the monstrosity pass directly beneath Lillian's feet, propelling itself from one end of the room, through the center, and out the other. In truth, it passed quicker than it came, taking no notice of the warriors above, but the damage had been done.
The scorched, beaten, and abused flooring, ripped from underneath of all its supports, and weighed down by the King of Hands and his captives, cracked, lurched downward, and then collapsed. Lillian watched in terror as the cyborg and the struggling Sarika fell down into the darkness below.
Moments passed in silence.
"Sarika!" Lillian cried out. She ran to the edge of the pit and stared into the blackness. There was a green sheen covering the edge, and the air smelled heavy of soot. Lillian clasped her hands over her mouth and waited, hoping that her winged guardian would appear, leaping from the seemingly infinite chasm, a comforting smile on her face. But she did not appear.
No one is there. The Kindred Spirit shared with Lillian.
"Hahaha! Sucks for them!" Lillian jerked about to face Dekowin, a smug, victorious look spread across her face.
"Looks like this fight will be over sooner than that Monitor thought!" The warrior continued.
"How can you say that?", Lillian yelled, her anger overruling any curiosity about this new stranger or the meaning of her words. "We have to help them!"
"Help them?" Dekowin sneered. "Who do you think you are giving me a command like that?"
"It's not a command! It's the right thing to do!" Lillian stammered red-faced and fists clenched.
The Volkhanbet ignored Lillian's words, instead studying her with a contemptuous gaze.
"Oh right. You're the girl. To think that someone would have the gall to enter something like you into a contest with me. It's insulting." Dekowin spat. "I should push you into that hole right now, get three out of the way in one go."
The chitinous warrior approached Lillian, but the Kindred Spirit struck out, puncturing Dekowin's armor at the wrist when she came too close. The indignant princess quickly pulled back, rubbing her wound.
"Hmph. So you have magic protecting you. How quaint." She turned towards the door, and began to walk away. "I'm going on ahead. If you want to go die trying to save those others, be my guest."
Lillian froze. She had not thought that saving her friend meant going into that darkened soot-filled hole. Her Kindred Spirit could probably protect her from the fall, but...Images of monstrous spiders and other creatures returned to her, and she was reminded of the very real danger of the King of Hands and the creature that had passed not too long ago.
Again, she was faced with a battle of choices. It was the kind of choice that needed to be made when one is certain of what is the right thing to do, but does not want to do it. Lillian heard the voice that had assured her, Be brave. Keep your friends close, but the terrors of the unknown were great. What could she possibly do? She asked the Spirit, but the Spirit said nothing. Had Sarika really...?
Lillian heard the exit open as Dekowin walked through. The possibility of being left alone forced her decision, and fear won over courage. Lillian glanced back at the pit for a final time, and then ran after the warrior princess.
While Sarika and the others fought against the mechanized sentry, Lillian, waiting behind the hallway's sliding door, faced a battle of her own. It was not a physical battle, but rather one of choices. It was the type of choice that needed to be made when one is not entirely sure what is the right thing to do. Lillian heard the sounds of battle, the grinding, clanking, breaking, blasting and although she did not fully realize what was beyond the door (nor had she realized yet that she was partaking in a fight to the death), she knew very well through her own intuition and the guidance of the Kindred Spirit that something very dangerous was making those noises. This meant, she realized, that the caring winged woman was in the midst of that danger and that danger would threaten Lillian as well, should she choose to go through the door.
"She said to stay here," Lillian said to the Kindred Spirit, "and it's very important to do what a good adult tells you, especially in a situation like this."
The Kindred Spirit agreed.
"Oh but what if she gets hurt? or needs help? You should never leave a friend in trouble."
The Spirit said nothing.
At this a thunderous slam rumbled against the door frame, shaking the corridor. Instinctively, Lillian buried her head in her arms and brought her knees close to her curled body.
"I can't possibly. I'll stay right here. I'll..." An image appeared in Lillian's mind, interrupting her frightened speech. She recalled Sarika. Moments before running out of the corridor into the room beyond, the bird woman had stood, tense, pensive. It was a posture that belied the silky softness of her downy feathers. At the time, Lillian had thought it meant she was nervous or afraid, but reflecting on the image now, recalling her stern appearance and focused gaze, Lillian discovered it had not been a look of fear, but one of determination.
It was with this thought in mind that the scrawny young girl stood up, legs quivering, talisman clenched tightly in hand. Despite the protests of the Kindred Spirit, Lillian had made her choice. Sarika was her friend and if her friend was in danger she needed to be brave. With a stubborn resolution she stepped through the imposing door and into the sentinel's lair.
-------
In olden times, before cars or bikes or electricity, when witches and wizards lurked in the woods and magic was much more common than it is today, there was a creature known as the Rat King. It was a grotesque creature that formed when large beastly rats swarmed together, wallowing in the filth and mud and darkness they knew as their home. Their tails and fur would intertwine, creating a crawling orb of gnawing teeth and skritching claws. It was chaotic, nasty, deadly, and not entirely unlike the writhing mass of metal hands Lillian saw as she entered the dome-shaped room.
The hands, some swinging their weapons, most just grasping at whatever they could reach, had become so twisted and tangled that they moved about like the head of a metal Medusa. They scraped and sparked and screeched against one another, jerking and lurching, working to free themselves and attack all around them and becoming more and more entwined in the process.
Lillian frantically looked for Sarika. There was a large, dark-skinned man in the middle of the fray, one arm gripped firmly around a squirming metal wrist, the other launching a mass of shrapnel into the heart of the King of Hands. A furious woman with callous skin and six fibrous wings tore into some stragglers from the mass. There was chaos and fighting but aside from those strangers Lillian saw no one. Sarika was missing.
Then, in an instant, a glint of light directed the child's gaze upwards. Silhouetted against the light of the dome was the outstretched form of her winged guardian. Like the hawk of her people, Sarika, staff in hand, dove at her prey with unyielding focus. Skill and momentum on her side, the hawk woman struck the exposed wires and paneling. Then, as quickly as she descended, her nimble frame sprung off the metal foe and into the air once more. This she repeated, landing strike after strike, blow after blow. No single hit landing a killing mark, but her staff was sturdy and her foe confused, and every strike fueled by her determination to protect. Bit by bit she tore into the mass, victory edging ever closer.
And then Lillian screamed.
---
While the battle raged, the Kindred Spirit remained pensive yet vigilant. It checked the room, searching for any threat to its young charge. The dangers were plenty, but they kept their distance, occupied with other foes. The King of Hands held massive size and power, but it was cold and soulless. It carried no anger or malice and sought simply to carry out its instructions. The one known as Marcus White, a mix of man and machine, despite his fearsome appearance seemed calm and collected. The Volkhanbet's temperament , (was that what that "Monitor" being had said?), matched her external appearance perfectly, furious, self-focused, destructive. As for Sarika, the Kindred Spirit had already accepted her help begrudgingly. Her intentions were noble, almost motherly, and she had a genuine like for Lillian. She was, as Lillian had decided, a friend.
A stray piece of shrapnel launched toward Lillian, but the Spirit deflected it. The talisman that housed the Kindred Spirit allowed the guardian force's will to interact with the physical world. As long as the Kindred Spirit desired it, and the assault was weak enough, it could easily protect Lillian from harm. As long as its charge stayed away from the center of the fight, all should be fine.
Then the Spirit sensed it. It was faint at first, like a speck in the distance, but it approached with startling speed, and as it drew nearer its intensity grew. It was an aura of hate, rage. Not at any one particular thing, but at all of existence. The Kindred Spirit sensed a frustration and disillusionment, brought about by years of mistreatment and torture, unwarranted pain that had collected and congealed into a seething malice. The Spirit took only moments to figure out its source. It was a creature, it was massive, and it was under them.
Quickly, the Spirit warned Lillian as best it could. Something huge. Underneath. Very, very dangerous.
Lillian, heeding her Kindred Spirits warning and noting the urgency and seriousness of its message, cried out to the others.
"Everyone! There's something coming!"
The sound of the young girl's cry diverted Sarika's attention just as she landed another blow. In that moment a lunging hand clasped her from behind, pinning the prophet's wing to her side. In the same moment, the room shook. Dekowin jumped towards the outer wall, but Marcus, grappling arm to arm with the groping monstrosity, stayed his ground. The walls of the dome trembled, and the floor, battered by masses of mechanical hands and countless strikes, began to give way.
The Spirit remained tense, the light in the talisman glowing an azure blue. It felt the monstrosity pass directly beneath Lillian's feet, propelling itself from one end of the room, through the center, and out the other. In truth, it passed quicker than it came, taking no notice of the warriors above, but the damage had been done.
The scorched, beaten, and abused flooring, ripped from underneath of all its supports, and weighed down by the King of Hands and his captives, cracked, lurched downward, and then collapsed. Lillian watched in terror as the cyborg and the struggling Sarika fell down into the darkness below.
Moments passed in silence.
"Sarika!" Lillian cried out. She ran to the edge of the pit and stared into the blackness. There was a green sheen covering the edge, and the air smelled heavy of soot. Lillian clasped her hands over her mouth and waited, hoping that her winged guardian would appear, leaping from the seemingly infinite chasm, a comforting smile on her face. But she did not appear.
No one is there. The Kindred Spirit shared with Lillian.
"Hahaha! Sucks for them!" Lillian jerked about to face Dekowin, a smug, victorious look spread across her face.
"Looks like this fight will be over sooner than that Monitor thought!" The warrior continued.
"How can you say that?", Lillian yelled, her anger overruling any curiosity about this new stranger or the meaning of her words. "We have to help them!"
"Help them?" Dekowin sneered. "Who do you think you are giving me a command like that?"
"It's not a command! It's the right thing to do!" Lillian stammered red-faced and fists clenched.
The Volkhanbet ignored Lillian's words, instead studying her with a contemptuous gaze.
"Oh right. You're the girl. To think that someone would have the gall to enter something like you into a contest with me. It's insulting." Dekowin spat. "I should push you into that hole right now, get three out of the way in one go."
The chitinous warrior approached Lillian, but the Kindred Spirit struck out, puncturing Dekowin's armor at the wrist when she came too close. The indignant princess quickly pulled back, rubbing her wound.
"Hmph. So you have magic protecting you. How quaint." She turned towards the door, and began to walk away. "I'm going on ahead. If you want to go die trying to save those others, be my guest."
Lillian froze. She had not thought that saving her friend meant going into that darkened soot-filled hole. Her Kindred Spirit could probably protect her from the fall, but...Images of monstrous spiders and other creatures returned to her, and she was reminded of the very real danger of the King of Hands and the creature that had passed not too long ago.
Again, she was faced with a battle of choices. It was the kind of choice that needed to be made when one is certain of what is the right thing to do, but does not want to do it. Lillian heard the voice that had assured her, Be brave. Keep your friends close, but the terrors of the unknown were great. What could she possibly do? She asked the Spirit, but the Spirit said nothing. Had Sarika really...?
Lillian heard the exit open as Dekowin walked through. The possibility of being left alone forced her decision, and fear won over courage. Lillian glanced back at the pit for a final time, and then ran after the warrior princess.