Re: Pitched Combat [Final Round: Simulacrum Citadel]
12-31-2010, 05:39 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Dragon Fogel.
They weren't listening. Well, more specifically, Rong wasn't listening, Eemp couldn't listen, and Right was interested but couldn't hold Rong back.
Jordan settled on his usual procedure of running away and hoping for the best. Fortunately, the argument slowed down Rong's fireballs, allowing Jordan to redirect them again as he thought about his next move.
The book probably wouldn't help him much - it was useful for warnings about imminent fireballs, the idea of reading too far ahead made him nervous. The thought that he might be nervous about it because the book said he was nervous about it wasn't any more comforting.
It was then that Jordan had a stupid idea.
Rong didn't want to spare him because - well, mostly because she was Rong. But also because she thought he might be trying to come up with a last-ditch plan to win, when actually winning was starting to look like a worst-case scenario.
But what if he did come up with a way to win? If he passed up an opportunity to win the battle, then Rong would...
...probably incinerate him anyways.
This was an incredibly stupid idea.
On the other hand, beheading or otherwise neutralizing Rong and explaining the situation to Right might work. But how could he do that? He might be able to find a weapon in the museum, but when he had left it, it was full of rampaging torture-bots and also on fire.
A moment later, as he redirected another fireball, he nearly slapped himself on the forehead.
He could control fire!
It wouldn't be very helpful against the dragons, but it had already burned the torture-bots... It might give him a chance to grab a weapon.
Jordan ran back towards the door he had entered through, shutting it behind him; it would only slow the dragons down for a moment, most likely, but he had few other options.
He looked over the wreckage that had once been the museum. The flames were still burning. Most of the robots had already been burned into uselessness; but a few were still relatively intact, still with their weapons.
He soon found one wielding a particularly painful-looking axe. It seemed to be trying to find its usual victim, now that there were no new faces to torment, and had its back to him.
Jordan carefully manipulated the flames nearby, setting the torture-bot's head ablaze, but keeping its weapon away. The head soon exploded, and the body kneeled over.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Jordan lifted the axe from the ground.
It was distressingly light.
Nervously, he felt the edge.
Plastic.
Like the books, the weapons were merely crude replicas. This axe would be better wielded as a club, and it would barely even be effective in that capacity.
Jordan sighed. It had been useless after all. The dragons were still after him, he had no idea how to send a message - or even what that message would be - and he was still as good as unarmed. All he had were a few books, his inhaler, pepper spray, his spare pair of glasses, and now this plastic axe.
The sound of a door being smashed down was enough to make Jordan start running again. He threw the axe behind him in a desperate hope that it would somehow slow down the walking doll, and continued to run through the burning museum.
Flipping back through Potched Kumquat, Jordan saw that the dragons had entered here through another door. That meant he could escape through it. It was annoying to puzzle out the mangled words detailing their path through the museum - especially since the ambiguous term weast popped up more than once - but it was the only option available.
They weren't listening. Well, more specifically, Rong wasn't listening, Eemp couldn't listen, and Right was interested but couldn't hold Rong back.
Jordan settled on his usual procedure of running away and hoping for the best. Fortunately, the argument slowed down Rong's fireballs, allowing Jordan to redirect them again as he thought about his next move.
The book probably wouldn't help him much - it was useful for warnings about imminent fireballs, the idea of reading too far ahead made him nervous. The thought that he might be nervous about it because the book said he was nervous about it wasn't any more comforting.
It was then that Jordan had a stupid idea.
Rong didn't want to spare him because - well, mostly because she was Rong. But also because she thought he might be trying to come up with a last-ditch plan to win, when actually winning was starting to look like a worst-case scenario.
But what if he did come up with a way to win? If he passed up an opportunity to win the battle, then Rong would...
...probably incinerate him anyways.
This was an incredibly stupid idea.
On the other hand, beheading or otherwise neutralizing Rong and explaining the situation to Right might work. But how could he do that? He might be able to find a weapon in the museum, but when he had left it, it was full of rampaging torture-bots and also on fire.
A moment later, as he redirected another fireball, he nearly slapped himself on the forehead.
He could control fire!
It wouldn't be very helpful against the dragons, but it had already burned the torture-bots... It might give him a chance to grab a weapon.
Jordan ran back towards the door he had entered through, shutting it behind him; it would only slow the dragons down for a moment, most likely, but he had few other options.
He looked over the wreckage that had once been the museum. The flames were still burning. Most of the robots had already been burned into uselessness; but a few were still relatively intact, still with their weapons.
He soon found one wielding a particularly painful-looking axe. It seemed to be trying to find its usual victim, now that there were no new faces to torment, and had its back to him.
Jordan carefully manipulated the flames nearby, setting the torture-bot's head ablaze, but keeping its weapon away. The head soon exploded, and the body kneeled over.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Jordan lifted the axe from the ground.
It was distressingly light.
Nervously, he felt the edge.
Plastic.
Like the books, the weapons were merely crude replicas. This axe would be better wielded as a club, and it would barely even be effective in that capacity.
Jordan sighed. It had been useless after all. The dragons were still after him, he had no idea how to send a message - or even what that message would be - and he was still as good as unarmed. All he had were a few books, his inhaler, pepper spray, his spare pair of glasses, and now this plastic axe.
The sound of a door being smashed down was enough to make Jordan start running again. He threw the axe behind him in a desperate hope that it would somehow slow down the walking doll, and continued to run through the burning museum.
Flipping back through Potched Kumquat, Jordan saw that the dragons had entered here through another door. That meant he could escape through it. It was annoying to puzzle out the mangled words detailing their path through the museum - especially since the ambiguous term weast popped up more than once - but it was the only option available.
There's no reason for this | Or this | Death is inevitable | You can't challenge fate | The smallest change | I'm overwhelmed
I'm serious | It makes perfect sense | Easy as ABC! | I can't even explain it | Cleaning up someone else's mess
I suck | I rule | I've got it made | Really, I'm serious | This bugs me | It's all lies | I want to believe | Beauty is a curse
I'm serious | It makes perfect sense | Easy as ABC! | I can't even explain it | Cleaning up someone else's mess
I suck | I rule | I've got it made | Really, I'm serious | This bugs me | It's all lies | I want to believe | Beauty is a curse