Re: The Spectacular Exhibition (S3G2) [Round 1: Parallels/Perpendicularities]
03-23-2011, 12:23 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by SleepingOrange.
As Crepitans retreated (or, as he preferred to think of it, tactically withdrew), his long legs and swinging arms kicked up so much snow that had Red been watching, the ent would have disappeared in a cloud of white as he mounded the bank. He stopped moving once he was reasonably sure the lobster hadn't followed him, thundering lope stuttering to a halt and kicked-up snow settling on bark and branches. He wasn't sure what the specifics of his next move were going to be, but the goal was pretty clear: that uppity insect had to be crushed like it deserved to be. Preferably after being made to understand the foolishness of daring to spray flames at Crepitans Bloodbark.
The contents of his boughs swung gently as the shaman began moving slowly around the snowbanks, careful to keep a wall of ice and snow between himself and and his new target, but looking for a good vantage point where he could see without being seen. His newest unwilling passenger was largely forgotten, given a combination of Nemaeus's incapacitation, comparative weakness, and Crepitans's rage against the mech-suited lobster, and Blazard had long since been dismissed as an insignificant detail. All potential distractions were ignored, and the treant's hostile attentions were completely focused on Red.
This was actually rather fortunate for Nemaeus; similarly fortunate was the fact that fingers the size of human arms appeared to be rather bad at fine manipulation. Like tying knots, for instance. The charmer had found that he could work most of his hand through one of the gaps formed by Crepitans's hasty knotwork, and had been steadily working the fur out of its binding state since he'd been lodged in his captor's branches. The man had no way of knowing it, but his timing could scarcely have been better; he had been nearly forgotten, the prowling tree entirely occupied by his search for a tactical advantage.
It didn't take too long for the inexpert knot to unfurl under Nemaeus's constant fiddling. The pelt flopped open, draping itself over the branches it had been wedged between, and revealing a thoroughly-ruffled Nemaeus. He half-sat, half-clung to his perch, looking around apprehensively at the arcane implements sharing the boughs with him and even more apprehensively at the reeking meat and bones that littered the countless thorns surrounding him. He was about to scout out a decent route down when he heard an odd clicking noise behind him; he turned to investigate, and came face-to-face with an enormous, pointed beak.
The colossal shrike squawked angrily and jabbed its vicious beak towards Nemaeus's eyes; unsurprisingly, he yelped and scuttled backwards. In his attempts to flee, he moved too far back and tumbled off the branch he'd been put on; he grabbed for his fur as he fell, and while he succeeded in grabbing it, the only effect this had was to dislodge it from the branches as well and bring it down with him. His descent was luckily interrupted by only one or two branches, and the flapping pelt protected him from all but the most minor scratches. Similarly lucky was the fact that he'd been placed far out enough in the reaches of Crepitans's expansive canopy that he ran no risk of colliding with the barbed trunk; he landed, bruised but largely unharmed, in a cushion of snow some yards away from the lumbering wooden feet.
Nemaeus scrambled to his feet, grabbing the fur and moving to run, but by this time the commotion had drawn Crepitans's attention even from his monomaniacal fixation on Red. Nemaeus stumbled through the snow, only to be caught before he had taken a dozen steps and lifted once more into the air, this time brought roughly face-to-face with his tormentor.
"It appears keeping you alive may be more trouble than it is worth, meat. Perhaps I should simply end this now; there will be more hearts to come by."
Nemaeus wriggled, nearly to the point of panicking uncontrollably; suddenly it hit him what the tree had done. He calmed himself as best as he could, put on a winning smile, and stared deep into the glassy eyes that were scrutinizing him like leftovers one was having difficulty deciding whether to keep or dispose of.
"Now, let's not be too hasty here," he said with practiced confidence. The magic hit Crepitans, Nemaeus pouring as much of his power and charm as he could into the simple sentence; he honestly had no idea if it would even work on whatever kind of tree-monster this thing was, but it was worth a shot. The bark around the dorukardia's eyes crinkled, followed by a slow blink and a few twitches at the corner of the mouth. It was clear the shaman was attempting to resist the enchantment, but was surprisingly unable to shrug it off even as much as a normal human.
Then, from the crest of the nearest frozen hillock came a shout of "Drop the human."
Red had apparently tired of waiting for a response from the lever, and in the absence of anything else interesting, had come looking for his competitors. He was perched on the top snowbank, flamethrower thrust forward and pilot light hissing. Nemaeus's head snapped around towards the sound, his gaze leaving Crepitans's and the spell breaking. The furious tree blinked several times, then roared "You want this worm so badly, catch it!"
With a wide swing of his story-long arm, the shaman sent Nemaeus, clutching his fur for dear life, hurtling through the air towards Red.
As Crepitans retreated (or, as he preferred to think of it, tactically withdrew), his long legs and swinging arms kicked up so much snow that had Red been watching, the ent would have disappeared in a cloud of white as he mounded the bank. He stopped moving once he was reasonably sure the lobster hadn't followed him, thundering lope stuttering to a halt and kicked-up snow settling on bark and branches. He wasn't sure what the specifics of his next move were going to be, but the goal was pretty clear: that uppity insect had to be crushed like it deserved to be. Preferably after being made to understand the foolishness of daring to spray flames at Crepitans Bloodbark.
The contents of his boughs swung gently as the shaman began moving slowly around the snowbanks, careful to keep a wall of ice and snow between himself and and his new target, but looking for a good vantage point where he could see without being seen. His newest unwilling passenger was largely forgotten, given a combination of Nemaeus's incapacitation, comparative weakness, and Crepitans's rage against the mech-suited lobster, and Blazard had long since been dismissed as an insignificant detail. All potential distractions were ignored, and the treant's hostile attentions were completely focused on Red.
This was actually rather fortunate for Nemaeus; similarly fortunate was the fact that fingers the size of human arms appeared to be rather bad at fine manipulation. Like tying knots, for instance. The charmer had found that he could work most of his hand through one of the gaps formed by Crepitans's hasty knotwork, and had been steadily working the fur out of its binding state since he'd been lodged in his captor's branches. The man had no way of knowing it, but his timing could scarcely have been better; he had been nearly forgotten, the prowling tree entirely occupied by his search for a tactical advantage.
It didn't take too long for the inexpert knot to unfurl under Nemaeus's constant fiddling. The pelt flopped open, draping itself over the branches it had been wedged between, and revealing a thoroughly-ruffled Nemaeus. He half-sat, half-clung to his perch, looking around apprehensively at the arcane implements sharing the boughs with him and even more apprehensively at the reeking meat and bones that littered the countless thorns surrounding him. He was about to scout out a decent route down when he heard an odd clicking noise behind him; he turned to investigate, and came face-to-face with an enormous, pointed beak.
The colossal shrike squawked angrily and jabbed its vicious beak towards Nemaeus's eyes; unsurprisingly, he yelped and scuttled backwards. In his attempts to flee, he moved too far back and tumbled off the branch he'd been put on; he grabbed for his fur as he fell, and while he succeeded in grabbing it, the only effect this had was to dislodge it from the branches as well and bring it down with him. His descent was luckily interrupted by only one or two branches, and the flapping pelt protected him from all but the most minor scratches. Similarly lucky was the fact that he'd been placed far out enough in the reaches of Crepitans's expansive canopy that he ran no risk of colliding with the barbed trunk; he landed, bruised but largely unharmed, in a cushion of snow some yards away from the lumbering wooden feet.
Nemaeus scrambled to his feet, grabbing the fur and moving to run, but by this time the commotion had drawn Crepitans's attention even from his monomaniacal fixation on Red. Nemaeus stumbled through the snow, only to be caught before he had taken a dozen steps and lifted once more into the air, this time brought roughly face-to-face with his tormentor.
"It appears keeping you alive may be more trouble than it is worth, meat. Perhaps I should simply end this now; there will be more hearts to come by."
Nemaeus wriggled, nearly to the point of panicking uncontrollably; suddenly it hit him what the tree had done. He calmed himself as best as he could, put on a winning smile, and stared deep into the glassy eyes that were scrutinizing him like leftovers one was having difficulty deciding whether to keep or dispose of.
"Now, let's not be too hasty here," he said with practiced confidence. The magic hit Crepitans, Nemaeus pouring as much of his power and charm as he could into the simple sentence; he honestly had no idea if it would even work on whatever kind of tree-monster this thing was, but it was worth a shot. The bark around the dorukardia's eyes crinkled, followed by a slow blink and a few twitches at the corner of the mouth. It was clear the shaman was attempting to resist the enchantment, but was surprisingly unable to shrug it off even as much as a normal human.
Then, from the crest of the nearest frozen hillock came a shout of "Drop the human."
Red had apparently tired of waiting for a response from the lever, and in the absence of anything else interesting, had come looking for his competitors. He was perched on the top snowbank, flamethrower thrust forward and pilot light hissing. Nemaeus's head snapped around towards the sound, his gaze leaving Crepitans's and the spell breaking. The furious tree blinked several times, then roared "You want this worm so badly, catch it!"
With a wide swing of his story-long arm, the shaman sent Nemaeus, clutching his fur for dear life, hurtling through the air towards Red.