Re: Pitched Combat [Round 4: Colossus Colosseum]
07-12-2010, 09:18 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by SleepingOrange.
The Organizer drummed his fingers on nothing. It was all so boring; he'd only gotten into this grand battling schtick because it seemed like the thing to do for the up-and-coming omipotent entity, but... It seemed like it had taken months for anything to happen, and even that something had been barely more than nothing. He sighed to himself for the umpteenth time. Maybe he just didn't belong with this grandmasters; they were mostly either from corporeal universes or involved with their creation. The Organizer didn't really get reality the way these kids did. Maybe he was too old. His fingers pinged off emptiness again. All this matter these days.
And then, without even the fanfare of a pop of displaced air in this unending void, there was the Composer, lips pursed and a scrap of paper held idly in one hand. As she appeared, the Organizer beamed and stood; as he stood, a world formed around him and coalesced into a room. It was done in steely greys and high technology, monitors lining walls and several ergonomic chairs dotting the floor. "Composer! So good to see you! I take it you got my letter?" "I did. I understand you wished to meet up for..." Here she made a feigned glance at the paper she clutched, despite knowing its brief and bizarre contents by heart. "'Collusion, scheming, and general conniving of all natures.' I don't think you have much experience with this sort of thing." The Organizer pulled a face, which was by now the Composer's face. "No, I don't really, but... It seems like everyone's doing it these days, I can't be left out! Nobody seemed to want to respond though. Between you and me, I don't think the others like me that much." He clapped childishly before gesturing widely around the lair he'd formed. "Do you like it, by the way? I thought it fit the theme well."
The Composer didn't like it much. It was clearly a near-copy of the Monitor's den, with elements of the Controller's lair added in. That was how it always was with the Organizer, though, and she had to deal with it if she wanted him. And she did want him. She had plans for him. With a smile that was more like a grimace, she nodded. "Very appropriate." She would have gone on, since the Organizer seemed content to wait for her to volunteer something, but both she and he felt the arrival of another being.
"Gentleman? Ah, and lady too, I see. Well met to you both." The Organizer smiled broadly, the left side of his face contorting to match Talis's visage while the right stayed content to mimic the Composer's. Even for beings like those present, it was... Unpleasant. "Two people! Thrilling! Oh the collusions we'll scheme. "Of course. As the Executive's schemer-in-chief, I felt like I couldn't miss an opportunity like this." "So much company. I shall have to get some tea." And a table had always been there, piled with the paraphernalia of a scrumptious teatime for three people who didn't eat and a whistling teapot. Not on a burner, or even particularly hot. The Organizer really didn't understand things.
Composer and Talis both started to say something, and stopped as they heard the other; shooting sidelong glances at their counterpart, they each waited for the other to blink first. Before either could make a move, however, their standoff was interrupted; a small light blinked on one of the monitors, and the Organizer furrowed his brow. "Damn, I have to take care of this." His face brightened again in only a moment. "We can do this via correspondence, though! That's the way it's done these days anyway, I think. I'll have to come up with some portentous names to write on the envelopes!"
With a wave of his hand he sent his guests, two beings completely unaccustomed to being flung without their permission across dimensions, back from whence they came before turning his attention to a monitor that was even now discorporating.
---
As the maze below rose, the already-crippled colossus was falling. Its failing joints cracked under its own weight, and its haggard limbs stilled; the remaining glow across its body was fading, from acid and damage and wear. As the titanic statue collapsed and in some places crumbled, Alex was having trouble maintaining his footing; the leg he'd been clinging to was cracking and shifting, and as the thing's head hit the now-spiked ceiling and the maze kept rising, its limbs and torso showed even more promise of cracking or shattering. It was looking like, height or not, the safest option would be to drop into the maze below...
Jordan was truly panicking now, mashing buttons with little regard to what they actually did in the vain hope it would somehow undo the damage he did. When the final switch clicked and the control panel clearly had no more options to exhaust, the shaking firestarter could do little but watch the monitor in horror at what his actions had wreaked.
Even as his grip released, Alex thought better of dropping below; the sudden appearance of more spikes on the ground below made the knight reconsider, as did the apparent release of some kind of swarm of tiny black things. All the harried warrior could feasibly do was cling for dear life, every limb aching, and hope that someone else died first. The fact that the sourceless light that had kept things illuminated disappeared with no warning was it this point less an inconvenience than a sheer insult, spitefully piled onto everything else.
Eemp was perched rather sturdily on the colossus's sloped back, Right occasionally swaying from side to side to dodge a gout of flame from above. The stump that was the recovering Rong was growing entirely too slowly for the Chinese dragon's tastes; for possibly the first time in his unlife, Right wished his hotheaded companion was there to quite literally return fire.
The mannikin, all-consuming fear replaced by the dragon's primal rage, was roaring and belching flames at everything and everyone. It hadn't yet adjusted to dealing with this many, and this complex, thoughts and feelings, and it was trying to do everything at once. Still, it was balanced solidly and easily on the head of its dead sort-of-companion, claws raking the air and still-vestigial wings pumping.
Only Jordan, though the monitor, heard the subtle crackle. Only in his eyes was the reflection of the glowing screen. Only the young coward was witness to Alex's plummet, and only he saw the way the jagged spike pierced the man's chest. Jordan knew where the heart was, and that wasn't it.
Only Jordan could see the shiny black beetles descend on Alex's trapped form, but all of them heard the scream that the knight had until now kept in. And as Jordan turned away from the monitor, tears filling his eyes, no-one saw Alex's lungs fill with blood, or watched the slow, painful death. No-one saw Jordan sink into a corner, either, arms wrapped around his knees and face buried in his chest.
Disappearance. Reappearance. The survivors found themselves In what appeared to be an orchard; no two were close enough to see the others (save those that were bound together). The scenery around them was... eerie.
There were no features in the sky. No sun, no moon, no clouds or stars or passing planes. It was a flat, grey expanse that gave no hint to depth or distance. The trees around them, too, were odd; aside from the completely monochrome nature of the vegetation (and indeed, everything but the competitors), they were bizarre for the fruit they bore: the trees themselves were shaped like apple trees, and the fruit at first glance could be mistaken for a somewhat withered apple, but on closer inspection, each one revealed itself to be a gnarled face.
"Contestants! Welcome again to your new playing field. This is one of my own design, and I'm very proud of it! As you can see, these are no ordinary fruit trees. As you probably can't see, or at least not yet, the fruit themselves are far from ordinary!"
"Each contains a shade of someone you knew. Once a given shade is out, though, it can interact with any of you, whether it knew you or not! Shades, by their nature aren't real... But aren't totally unreal either! And in a place like this, where reality is what you make of it, they're more dangerous than not."
"To liven things up a little, I've also borrowed some shades from some friends of mine. Everyone from all the Grand Battles is here, in some apple or other. You probably won't meet them all, but... It's ripe season, so you should meet a few!"
"Oh, and some of you farther towards the edges might be able to make out the fence, right? It's just a little wooden fence, nothing special. Still, I wouldn't make an attempt to get over it, if I were you. The orchardkeepers might not like that too much at all!"
"In any case, what's that I hear? The sound of the first apples dropping? Have fun!"
The Organizer drummed his fingers on nothing. It was all so boring; he'd only gotten into this grand battling schtick because it seemed like the thing to do for the up-and-coming omipotent entity, but... It seemed like it had taken months for anything to happen, and even that something had been barely more than nothing. He sighed to himself for the umpteenth time. Maybe he just didn't belong with this grandmasters; they were mostly either from corporeal universes or involved with their creation. The Organizer didn't really get reality the way these kids did. Maybe he was too old. His fingers pinged off emptiness again. All this matter these days.
And then, without even the fanfare of a pop of displaced air in this unending void, there was the Composer, lips pursed and a scrap of paper held idly in one hand. As she appeared, the Organizer beamed and stood; as he stood, a world formed around him and coalesced into a room. It was done in steely greys and high technology, monitors lining walls and several ergonomic chairs dotting the floor. "Composer! So good to see you! I take it you got my letter?" "I did. I understand you wished to meet up for..." Here she made a feigned glance at the paper she clutched, despite knowing its brief and bizarre contents by heart. "'Collusion, scheming, and general conniving of all natures.' I don't think you have much experience with this sort of thing." The Organizer pulled a face, which was by now the Composer's face. "No, I don't really, but... It seems like everyone's doing it these days, I can't be left out! Nobody seemed to want to respond though. Between you and me, I don't think the others like me that much." He clapped childishly before gesturing widely around the lair he'd formed. "Do you like it, by the way? I thought it fit the theme well."
The Composer didn't like it much. It was clearly a near-copy of the Monitor's den, with elements of the Controller's lair added in. That was how it always was with the Organizer, though, and she had to deal with it if she wanted him. And she did want him. She had plans for him. With a smile that was more like a grimace, she nodded. "Very appropriate." She would have gone on, since the Organizer seemed content to wait for her to volunteer something, but both she and he felt the arrival of another being.
"Gentleman? Ah, and lady too, I see. Well met to you both." The Organizer smiled broadly, the left side of his face contorting to match Talis's visage while the right stayed content to mimic the Composer's. Even for beings like those present, it was... Unpleasant. "Two people! Thrilling! Oh the collusions we'll scheme. "Of course. As the Executive's schemer-in-chief, I felt like I couldn't miss an opportunity like this." "So much company. I shall have to get some tea." And a table had always been there, piled with the paraphernalia of a scrumptious teatime for three people who didn't eat and a whistling teapot. Not on a burner, or even particularly hot. The Organizer really didn't understand things.
Composer and Talis both started to say something, and stopped as they heard the other; shooting sidelong glances at their counterpart, they each waited for the other to blink first. Before either could make a move, however, their standoff was interrupted; a small light blinked on one of the monitors, and the Organizer furrowed his brow. "Damn, I have to take care of this." His face brightened again in only a moment. "We can do this via correspondence, though! That's the way it's done these days anyway, I think. I'll have to come up with some portentous names to write on the envelopes!"
With a wave of his hand he sent his guests, two beings completely unaccustomed to being flung without their permission across dimensions, back from whence they came before turning his attention to a monitor that was even now discorporating.
---
As the maze below rose, the already-crippled colossus was falling. Its failing joints cracked under its own weight, and its haggard limbs stilled; the remaining glow across its body was fading, from acid and damage and wear. As the titanic statue collapsed and in some places crumbled, Alex was having trouble maintaining his footing; the leg he'd been clinging to was cracking and shifting, and as the thing's head hit the now-spiked ceiling and the maze kept rising, its limbs and torso showed even more promise of cracking or shattering. It was looking like, height or not, the safest option would be to drop into the maze below...
Jordan was truly panicking now, mashing buttons with little regard to what they actually did in the vain hope it would somehow undo the damage he did. When the final switch clicked and the control panel clearly had no more options to exhaust, the shaking firestarter could do little but watch the monitor in horror at what his actions had wreaked.
Even as his grip released, Alex thought better of dropping below; the sudden appearance of more spikes on the ground below made the knight reconsider, as did the apparent release of some kind of swarm of tiny black things. All the harried warrior could feasibly do was cling for dear life, every limb aching, and hope that someone else died first. The fact that the sourceless light that had kept things illuminated disappeared with no warning was it this point less an inconvenience than a sheer insult, spitefully piled onto everything else.
Eemp was perched rather sturdily on the colossus's sloped back, Right occasionally swaying from side to side to dodge a gout of flame from above. The stump that was the recovering Rong was growing entirely too slowly for the Chinese dragon's tastes; for possibly the first time in his unlife, Right wished his hotheaded companion was there to quite literally return fire.
The mannikin, all-consuming fear replaced by the dragon's primal rage, was roaring and belching flames at everything and everyone. It hadn't yet adjusted to dealing with this many, and this complex, thoughts and feelings, and it was trying to do everything at once. Still, it was balanced solidly and easily on the head of its dead sort-of-companion, claws raking the air and still-vestigial wings pumping.
Only Jordan, though the monitor, heard the subtle crackle. Only in his eyes was the reflection of the glowing screen. Only the young coward was witness to Alex's plummet, and only he saw the way the jagged spike pierced the man's chest. Jordan knew where the heart was, and that wasn't it.
Only Jordan could see the shiny black beetles descend on Alex's trapped form, but all of them heard the scream that the knight had until now kept in. And as Jordan turned away from the monitor, tears filling his eyes, no-one saw Alex's lungs fill with blood, or watched the slow, painful death. No-one saw Jordan sink into a corner, either, arms wrapped around his knees and face buried in his chest.
Disappearance. Reappearance. The survivors found themselves In what appeared to be an orchard; no two were close enough to see the others (save those that were bound together). The scenery around them was... eerie.
There were no features in the sky. No sun, no moon, no clouds or stars or passing planes. It was a flat, grey expanse that gave no hint to depth or distance. The trees around them, too, were odd; aside from the completely monochrome nature of the vegetation (and indeed, everything but the competitors), they were bizarre for the fruit they bore: the trees themselves were shaped like apple trees, and the fruit at first glance could be mistaken for a somewhat withered apple, but on closer inspection, each one revealed itself to be a gnarled face.
"Contestants! Welcome again to your new playing field. This is one of my own design, and I'm very proud of it! As you can see, these are no ordinary fruit trees. As you probably can't see, or at least not yet, the fruit themselves are far from ordinary!"
"Each contains a shade of someone you knew. Once a given shade is out, though, it can interact with any of you, whether it knew you or not! Shades, by their nature aren't real... But aren't totally unreal either! And in a place like this, where reality is what you make of it, they're more dangerous than not."
"To liven things up a little, I've also borrowed some shades from some friends of mine. Everyone from all the Grand Battles is here, in some apple or other. You probably won't meet them all, but... It's ripe season, so you should meet a few!"
"Oh, and some of you farther towards the edges might be able to make out the fence, right? It's just a little wooden fence, nothing special. Still, I wouldn't make an attempt to get over it, if I were you. The orchardkeepers might not like that too much at all!"
"In any case, what's that I hear? The sound of the first apples dropping? Have fun!"