Re: The Spectacular Exhibition (S3G2) [Round 2: Space - Abridged]
09-25-2011, 12:23 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by SleepingOrange.
Once again, the Counsellor's meddling had plucked Crepitans from the middle of something important, involved, and exhilarating only to drop him into a serenely bland situation. Perhaps it hadn't been her meddling directly, this time, but given that the simpering dolt who had dropped the contestants where they now were seemed to be in her employ, it was her meddling nonetheless. Regardless of how or why or who, the disgruntled shaman once again found himself alone and furious.
Judging from Professor's brief description of the new setting, it might be difficult to find the cretins Crepitans was supposed to be hunting. Once again he snorted at the stupid way this stupider competition was being run; what kind of fool instigates a battle to the death, only to constantly separate the combatants and hide them from one another? It was further proof that Crepitans had no choice but to destroy the Counsellor, to make her pay for her hubris and idiocy. This Professor would doubtless have to die too, although judging from his sniveling that wouldn't prove difficult.
For the moment, though, there were more pressing targets to render into fleshy pulp; Crepitans would play this game, if only so that he could more easily find its hosts. Out there were six beings to destroy, and the shaman intended to oblige. Honestly, the most challenging part of the whole battle seemed to be finding his targets. Crepitans was not a mage who had much time for paltry tricks like divination or far-sight, so it was either time to search on foot or summon something with better perspective than Crepitans had. A jagged smile split his bark; why bother ruining the chase by knowing exactly where the chased was and would be? Demons and spirits could wait this time. For now, there should be some fun to be had leaping from sphere to sphere, squashing each one's inhabitants like the insects they were and waiting until one of the wastes of sapience that could laughably be called his competitors were squashed with them.
The planetoid Crepitans himself had landed on was sadly unoccupied for the most part; it was a breezy tropical beach, cool clear water lapping lazily at a white-sanded shore and elegant palms waving languidly in the blackness of space. It was all very idyllic and boring. A few crabs scuttled about, colorful little creatures snapping at one another and overall not being worth Crepitans's time. After a few moments, there was a screech and a crack; at least the shrike was having fun. Overall, it reminded Crepitans of a climate he had been bred for, and might have been pleasantly nostalgic if the sadistic tyrant had the time for such nonsense. Instead, he cast a disapproving gaze across the impossible landscape and began thundering across it, leaving sandy craters in his wake.
Above and around him, more silly planets with similarly-improbable physics and layouts spun and twinkled. It was hard for a being with an enormous canopy mounted on its back to look upwards, which made it difficult for the forestkith to pick a target to jump for. He was forced to scan the horizon for a likely-looking ball, hoping he could line himself up from a distance and jump accurately enough blind. It seemed that the problem might not become salient for a while, though; as he stomped across the beaches and sandbars of the tropical paradise orb, all he could find littering the black were little forested retreats, empty plains, and jagged rocky lumps. Nothing seemed to present itself that was worth targeting.
And then, as Crepitans waded into the shallow ocean, something caught his eye: another boring little green ball rose above the horizon, but this one was spotted with cabins. Cottages, really. It was hard to see from the beach planet, but there seemed to be specks moving between the cliched little huts. The jagged smile widened, and as the shrike nestled itself in the shaman's branches, having taken its fill of the odd crustaceans, the sea churned angrily behind the striding, three-story figure.
Crepitans lined himself up as best as he could and leapt.
Once again, the Counsellor's meddling had plucked Crepitans from the middle of something important, involved, and exhilarating only to drop him into a serenely bland situation. Perhaps it hadn't been her meddling directly, this time, but given that the simpering dolt who had dropped the contestants where they now were seemed to be in her employ, it was her meddling nonetheless. Regardless of how or why or who, the disgruntled shaman once again found himself alone and furious.
Judging from Professor's brief description of the new setting, it might be difficult to find the cretins Crepitans was supposed to be hunting. Once again he snorted at the stupid way this stupider competition was being run; what kind of fool instigates a battle to the death, only to constantly separate the combatants and hide them from one another? It was further proof that Crepitans had no choice but to destroy the Counsellor, to make her pay for her hubris and idiocy. This Professor would doubtless have to die too, although judging from his sniveling that wouldn't prove difficult.
For the moment, though, there were more pressing targets to render into fleshy pulp; Crepitans would play this game, if only so that he could more easily find its hosts. Out there were six beings to destroy, and the shaman intended to oblige. Honestly, the most challenging part of the whole battle seemed to be finding his targets. Crepitans was not a mage who had much time for paltry tricks like divination or far-sight, so it was either time to search on foot or summon something with better perspective than Crepitans had. A jagged smile split his bark; why bother ruining the chase by knowing exactly where the chased was and would be? Demons and spirits could wait this time. For now, there should be some fun to be had leaping from sphere to sphere, squashing each one's inhabitants like the insects they were and waiting until one of the wastes of sapience that could laughably be called his competitors were squashed with them.
The planetoid Crepitans himself had landed on was sadly unoccupied for the most part; it was a breezy tropical beach, cool clear water lapping lazily at a white-sanded shore and elegant palms waving languidly in the blackness of space. It was all very idyllic and boring. A few crabs scuttled about, colorful little creatures snapping at one another and overall not being worth Crepitans's time. After a few moments, there was a screech and a crack; at least the shrike was having fun. Overall, it reminded Crepitans of a climate he had been bred for, and might have been pleasantly nostalgic if the sadistic tyrant had the time for such nonsense. Instead, he cast a disapproving gaze across the impossible landscape and began thundering across it, leaving sandy craters in his wake.
Above and around him, more silly planets with similarly-improbable physics and layouts spun and twinkled. It was hard for a being with an enormous canopy mounted on its back to look upwards, which made it difficult for the forestkith to pick a target to jump for. He was forced to scan the horizon for a likely-looking ball, hoping he could line himself up from a distance and jump accurately enough blind. It seemed that the problem might not become salient for a while, though; as he stomped across the beaches and sandbars of the tropical paradise orb, all he could find littering the black were little forested retreats, empty plains, and jagged rocky lumps. Nothing seemed to present itself that was worth targeting.
And then, as Crepitans waded into the shallow ocean, something caught his eye: another boring little green ball rose above the horizon, but this one was spotted with cabins. Cottages, really. It was hard to see from the beach planet, but there seemed to be specks moving between the cliched little huts. The jagged smile widened, and as the shrike nestled itself in the shaman's branches, having taken its fill of the odd crustaceans, the sea churned angrily behind the striding, three-story figure.
Crepitans lined himself up as best as he could and leapt.