Re: The Battle Majestic (Round 3 - Oxbow Inc.)
09-23-2010, 01:41 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by redskap.
A scream? It didn’t sound human…
Blitz stood on a rooftop, his leaps and bounds having brought him close to the central point of the underwater dome. He could see the buildings he had passed rising high above. The scream made the large, looming constructions seem a little bit more menacing then they had been before.
I think that was Sen. Or maybe one of the creatures that live here? I’m really not sure what kinds of sounds they might make.
As he leapt across the city, the boy had seen what looked like a few different species walking the streets. It appeared that the most abundant were a scaly, lizard-like folk. They filtered through the narrow streets and paths leading through the steel jungle, some small, most large. Blitz thought that the size difference might have been either gender or age. He supposed it didn’t really matter whether it was one or the other. A rarer sight had been some abnormally tall humanoids. All he could tell as he passed over them was that they seemed to be covered in feathers.
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that things like that exist. Nothing else so far has made much sense. Still…if that was Sen, I hope they aren’t hurting him. He's just an animal in an unfamiliar place. He can't help what he does.
And with that final thought, he leapt away, heading toward the sound of the otherworldly screech.
***
“Gods damned grunts, blabbing away all the time! Don’ they know some people are trying to concentrate?!”
Dim Cyrris, Head of Research and Development, was in his position for good reason. No brown-noser he, he worked his way up the (admittedly short) bureaucratic ladder beak and claw. He may have stepped on a few colleagues to get where he was, but what of it? He treated them well enough as his subordinates. Excepting, of course, the idiots that got it into their heads to make fun of Cyrris’ first name. Those men would find themselves on the street and looking for work that very day.
The only downside to being head of his department was that he was forced to keep a communicator on him at all times, “for emergencies”. Emergencies his rear plumage. What did he need to know about such things for? The flood siren would alert him as well as anything else; it also had the added benefit of not being slung on his hip for all hours of the workday. Having to hear the grunts butcher every word and phrase that left their mouths got rather tiring as well.
But Cyrris was a good Dejaan, hardworking, and he followed instructions. It was part of his job to keep that communicator on him (no matter how bothersome he found it), and it was for this reason that he happened to overhear the conversation regarding the unknown creature that the grunts had captured. He stopped what he was currently focused on (the cultivation of a possible form of organic steel; metal that could be grown!) and reached down to the walkie-talkie hanging out of his coat pocket. He held it in front of his beak, depressing the button so that his buzzing, raspy voice could filter through to the meatheads hauling his prize to who-knew-where.
“Oi! Ya grunts- Ya ‘Security Specialists’! The ones with the unidentified creature! Bring that unknown to Warehouse 17! That’s Warehouse One-Seven, near the main R&D Center! I swear I’ll have both yer heads if you don’t get it there within the hour!”
Krad and Guft looked at each other, scaly eyebrows raised. “Who that?” Krad asked, his eyes dull and unrecognizing. Guft frowned for a moment, scratching under his special-est cap (it always got so itchy!) and trying to ignore the throbbing pain of his injuries, until he eventually shrugged. “Dunno. Sound like some sort of boss-man, though.” Krad nodded, agreeing silently, and pressed the button on his oversized walkie, responding to Cyrris. “Yes, sir. Wear-house Seventeen. Wear-house One-Seven. Bringing thingy there.”
Cyrris grinned, knowing that even with such a response, he might never see the unknown. But it was the best you could get out of these damn Yaggs. He only hoped that they would actually know where the warehouse was; you really never knew with the grunts. “Aye, good on ya, Yaggs. Bring it fast and there might be a bonus in it for you. And for the sake of the gods, don’t break it any more than ya already have! I want an intact specimen!”
A scream? It didn’t sound human…
Blitz stood on a rooftop, his leaps and bounds having brought him close to the central point of the underwater dome. He could see the buildings he had passed rising high above. The scream made the large, looming constructions seem a little bit more menacing then they had been before.
I think that was Sen. Or maybe one of the creatures that live here? I’m really not sure what kinds of sounds they might make.
As he leapt across the city, the boy had seen what looked like a few different species walking the streets. It appeared that the most abundant were a scaly, lizard-like folk. They filtered through the narrow streets and paths leading through the steel jungle, some small, most large. Blitz thought that the size difference might have been either gender or age. He supposed it didn’t really matter whether it was one or the other. A rarer sight had been some abnormally tall humanoids. All he could tell as he passed over them was that they seemed to be covered in feathers.
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that things like that exist. Nothing else so far has made much sense. Still…if that was Sen, I hope they aren’t hurting him. He's just an animal in an unfamiliar place. He can't help what he does.
And with that final thought, he leapt away, heading toward the sound of the otherworldly screech.
***
“Gods damned grunts, blabbing away all the time! Don’ they know some people are trying to concentrate?!”
Dim Cyrris, Head of Research and Development, was in his position for good reason. No brown-noser he, he worked his way up the (admittedly short) bureaucratic ladder beak and claw. He may have stepped on a few colleagues to get where he was, but what of it? He treated them well enough as his subordinates. Excepting, of course, the idiots that got it into their heads to make fun of Cyrris’ first name. Those men would find themselves on the street and looking for work that very day.
The only downside to being head of his department was that he was forced to keep a communicator on him at all times, “for emergencies”. Emergencies his rear plumage. What did he need to know about such things for? The flood siren would alert him as well as anything else; it also had the added benefit of not being slung on his hip for all hours of the workday. Having to hear the grunts butcher every word and phrase that left their mouths got rather tiring as well.
But Cyrris was a good Dejaan, hardworking, and he followed instructions. It was part of his job to keep that communicator on him (no matter how bothersome he found it), and it was for this reason that he happened to overhear the conversation regarding the unknown creature that the grunts had captured. He stopped what he was currently focused on (the cultivation of a possible form of organic steel; metal that could be grown!) and reached down to the walkie-talkie hanging out of his coat pocket. He held it in front of his beak, depressing the button so that his buzzing, raspy voice could filter through to the meatheads hauling his prize to who-knew-where.
“Oi! Ya grunts- Ya ‘Security Specialists’! The ones with the unidentified creature! Bring that unknown to Warehouse 17! That’s Warehouse One-Seven, near the main R&D Center! I swear I’ll have both yer heads if you don’t get it there within the hour!”
Krad and Guft looked at each other, scaly eyebrows raised. “Who that?” Krad asked, his eyes dull and unrecognizing. Guft frowned for a moment, scratching under his special-est cap (it always got so itchy!) and trying to ignore the throbbing pain of his injuries, until he eventually shrugged. “Dunno. Sound like some sort of boss-man, though.” Krad nodded, agreeing silently, and pressed the button on his oversized walkie, responding to Cyrris. “Yes, sir. Wear-house Seventeen. Wear-house One-Seven. Bringing thingy there.”
Cyrris grinned, knowing that even with such a response, he might never see the unknown. But it was the best you could get out of these damn Yaggs. He only hoped that they would actually know where the warehouse was; you really never knew with the grunts. “Aye, good on ya, Yaggs. Bring it fast and there might be a bonus in it for you. And for the sake of the gods, don’t break it any more than ya already have! I want an intact specimen!”