Re: The Spectacular Exhibition (S3G2) [Round 1: Parallels/Perpendicularities]
02-13-2011, 04:41 AM
(This post was last modified: 05-15-2013, 01:40 AM by Akumu.)
Originally posted on MSPA by Akumu.
Even before the report of the bursting pods had reached him, Nemaeus was rolling off of the struggling aardvark and pulling the impenetrable wolf hide over himself. Pulled taut, it harmlessly deflected the biological projectiles away from himself and Blazaard. Red was not as fast to react, still midway through turning to face the oncoming dorukardia when the first wave of seeds slammed into him. Still, the shell fragments and seeds merely caromed off or splintered to pieces on impact with his mech's thick metal carapace. Close behind the volley came Crepitans himself, powder and ice whipping off his bark. He dropped a shoulder towards Red as he took the final great stride to close the distance between them, following through with a crushing blow up into the mech's right armpit. The armor there crumpled inwards and the entire mech was lifted into the air on Crepitan's forearm, to be flung aside as the swing finished its arc. Red crashed to the ground behind and skidded across the ice.
Blazaard was still in a frenzy, clawing ineffectively at the wrapped human, when Crepitans reached the two of them. When the dorukardia's canopy dropped him into shadow, Blazaard finally noticed the new threat. Spooked, he scuttled through the entrance of the igloo.
"Ha, you dumb beast! Where do you expect to go from there? I will destroy you at my leisure now. But first," Crepitans scooped up Nemaeus in his lupine aegis, holding the bundle near his knotted face, "I saw how this skin protected you, human. I understand now what that accursed woman meant about it, but I wouldn't have to pierce it to crush you to paste. Still, one never knows when one might need a beating heart."
Nemaeus tried to speak up to reason with Crepitans, but the shaman shook him savagely until he was quiet. Wooden fingers deftly knotted the legs of the pelt together, and reaching back jammed in the knot into the crevice between two branches.
"Now, to end this farce."
Crepitans turned his attention to the igloo, ready to smash the structure and the aardvark inside with one blow. Before he could do so, a rolling gout of flame passed between him and the igloo, throwing up a thick cloud of black smoke.
"Back away."
Red's mech was back on its feet, right arm hanging limply and left arm pointed at the dorukardia. Its thick fingers were splayed backwards and a holed nozzle and pilot light protruded from an opening in the end of the arm.
"Wood burns, yes? Or melt ice, dump in zero degree water. Either fine."
To further mark his point, Red pointed upwards and drew a curtain of fire back and forth through the air. Crepitans snarled, but took a step backwards.
"Don't think you've won, trash. I will see you torn from that machine and impaled screaming on my boughs yet."
He huddled within the borrowed den built of cold. They had never set two against him before, and never come down themselves before he had won. Something was very wrong. From the mouth of his den came waves of heat and more of their chatter-whistle noises, too much, it made his mouth go dry and his skull feel too small. They had sent one of theirs and he was going to run but then he looked at their eyes and he felt sleepy and warm. Everything was good. But then they sent their noises into his head and it slipped in like it hadn't before and he had been so furious, they put it in him like all the wrong things they put in him and now he couldn't. get. it. out.
It has been said that magic is only the normal rules of one reality asserting themselves on another. In that sense, there was a war of realities raging within Blazaard. In one, which is called scientific, will and consciousness arises spontaneously from the arrangement of networks; in another it is an energy that can be extracted and expressed through dumb matter, generated in a buzzing machine strapped to a beatific llama before exploding in a wash of green over an innocent laser-aardvark and changing it forever; and in a third it is a substance all its own, merely hitch-hiking, and able to be carried in a charming look and a soothing word between two vessels.
All three waged their battles, and it was clear the first was losing, and had been for a long time now. The sparse trail of fur Blazaard left behind as he paced the inner perimeter of the igloo was testament to that. The second and the third seemed to be coming to a détente, crystal tendrils through the frontal lobe resonating with the words of command given by Nemaeus, and spreading a little further with every word drifting from outside. And in the meantime, a simple creature was left very upset at not being quite so simple as he used to be.
Even before the report of the bursting pods had reached him, Nemaeus was rolling off of the struggling aardvark and pulling the impenetrable wolf hide over himself. Pulled taut, it harmlessly deflected the biological projectiles away from himself and Blazaard. Red was not as fast to react, still midway through turning to face the oncoming dorukardia when the first wave of seeds slammed into him. Still, the shell fragments and seeds merely caromed off or splintered to pieces on impact with his mech's thick metal carapace. Close behind the volley came Crepitans himself, powder and ice whipping off his bark. He dropped a shoulder towards Red as he took the final great stride to close the distance between them, following through with a crushing blow up into the mech's right armpit. The armor there crumpled inwards and the entire mech was lifted into the air on Crepitan's forearm, to be flung aside as the swing finished its arc. Red crashed to the ground behind and skidded across the ice.
Blazaard was still in a frenzy, clawing ineffectively at the wrapped human, when Crepitans reached the two of them. When the dorukardia's canopy dropped him into shadow, Blazaard finally noticed the new threat. Spooked, he scuttled through the entrance of the igloo.
"Ha, you dumb beast! Where do you expect to go from there? I will destroy you at my leisure now. But first," Crepitans scooped up Nemaeus in his lupine aegis, holding the bundle near his knotted face, "I saw how this skin protected you, human. I understand now what that accursed woman meant about it, but I wouldn't have to pierce it to crush you to paste. Still, one never knows when one might need a beating heart."
Nemaeus tried to speak up to reason with Crepitans, but the shaman shook him savagely until he was quiet. Wooden fingers deftly knotted the legs of the pelt together, and reaching back jammed in the knot into the crevice between two branches.
"Now, to end this farce."
Crepitans turned his attention to the igloo, ready to smash the structure and the aardvark inside with one blow. Before he could do so, a rolling gout of flame passed between him and the igloo, throwing up a thick cloud of black smoke.
"Back away."
Red's mech was back on its feet, right arm hanging limply and left arm pointed at the dorukardia. Its thick fingers were splayed backwards and a holed nozzle and pilot light protruded from an opening in the end of the arm.
"Wood burns, yes? Or melt ice, dump in zero degree water. Either fine."
To further mark his point, Red pointed upwards and drew a curtain of fire back and forth through the air. Crepitans snarled, but took a step backwards.
"Don't think you've won, trash. I will see you torn from that machine and impaled screaming on my boughs yet."
- - - - -
He huddled within the borrowed den built of cold. They had never set two against him before, and never come down themselves before he had won. Something was very wrong. From the mouth of his den came waves of heat and more of their chatter-whistle noises, too much, it made his mouth go dry and his skull feel too small. They had sent one of theirs and he was going to run but then he looked at their eyes and he felt sleepy and warm. Everything was good. But then they sent their noises into his head and it slipped in like it hadn't before and he had been so furious, they put it in him like all the wrong things they put in him and now he couldn't. get. it. out.
It has been said that magic is only the normal rules of one reality asserting themselves on another. In that sense, there was a war of realities raging within Blazaard. In one, which is called scientific, will and consciousness arises spontaneously from the arrangement of networks; in another it is an energy that can be extracted and expressed through dumb matter, generated in a buzzing machine strapped to a beatific llama before exploding in a wash of green over an innocent laser-aardvark and changing it forever; and in a third it is a substance all its own, merely hitch-hiking, and able to be carried in a charming look and a soothing word between two vessels.
All three waged their battles, and it was clear the first was losing, and had been for a long time now. The sparse trail of fur Blazaard left behind as he paced the inner perimeter of the igloo was testament to that. The second and the third seemed to be coming to a détente, crystal tendrils through the frontal lobe resonating with the words of command given by Nemaeus, and spreading a little further with every word drifting from outside. And in the meantime, a simple creature was left very upset at not being quite so simple as he used to be.