Re: Mini-Grand 5102 [Round 2: Shuck Hollow]
07-29-2011, 06:03 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Pharmacy.
Miecz swiftly observed his nearby surroundings. To be honest, this new environment reminded him of his old home back on the mountains – arid, dry, and most of all unforgiving. Of course, back at his home, there were not as many houses and as few trees as this dump. There was also a peculiar man, smelling of sweat and suspicion. Despite having every reason not to, Miecz decided to greet the man from the back with a jolly pat on the shoulder. After all, the swordmonster could get some-
GAH. Miecz suddenly found a burly hand clasped around his neck, attempting to garrote the life out of him with its vice grip. The man was strong alright, but the swordmonster was just as strong, managing to stand on his own two feet even while the assaulter was trying to push his head into the ground. Despite this admirable stand of resistance, Miecz realized his breath was disappearing. He needed to get out of this conundrum, pronto. Perhaps this man could listen to reason? The swordmonster somehow managed to choke a sentence to the man. "'ey, man. Can you let me go?"
<font color="DarkSlateGray">The man blinked.
"I appreciate the greeting, but can you let me go?"
No reply.
"Aghf gasdh cough asdgffgh," Miecz gagged.
The swordmonster decided to end this conversation with a fist to the blank-faced man’s face. Although he was still recovering his breath, Miecz’s jaw hinged down with amazement as a shower of sparks greeted the force of his fist. The assaulting farmhand stumbled back and glared, circuitry fraying from his stripped face. With the infra-red eye beaming back at the defending monsters, the hand of the man deformed and elongated until finally the synthetic skin split apart, exposing a metal thing that Miecz could not put a finger on. As the exposed cyborg started charging, the thing sparking with electricity, Miecz decided he honestly did not want to find out the effects of getting in contact with that.
Screeching like some sort of metallic bull, the robot aimed for Miecz’s neck, but the grinning swordmonster was too quick and too disciplined – he even had the time to unhook his blades! Yet, stubbornness (if there was such a thing) prevailed as the robotic drone continued to swing recklessly, the lethality of his energized arm discharged with a simple parry. Attacks and blocks were traded rapidly between the two combatants until the electrified arm spluttered to battery death. The man took it as a surprise. Miecz took it as a weakness.
Without hesitation, Miecz summoned all his strength to cleave the mimic into two. Showers of painful light scattered everything as bits of metal flew from the sheer strength of the attack. Grinding one last scream from his voice emulators, the body fell down in a heavy heap as strong-smelling fluid oozed from the destroyed machinery.
The swordmonster glanced down at the robotic corpse. The opponent disguised himself. Despite the melting synthetic skin and the fine machinery flawlessly emulating motor functions, he was not human at the end. As Miecz knew, his kind’s visage often had an uncanny predilection to resemble that of man. Though the dead robot’s disguise was flawless compared to his own poor imitation, the visual ruse was thought-provoking enough to make Miecz stop and muse.
His personal reflection was cut short by the introduction of company, bad company, and plenty of it. From the distance, Miecz saw a mob rapidly going his way. They looked like civilians alright: right at home in Shuck Hollow - but their faces were blank, grim with resolve, each and every one. Worst of all, an obvious red light flickered in their eyes and a noticeable droning sound filled the swordmonster’s ears. There was one thing Miecz knew for certain: they were all robots. All of them.
"We don't take strangers too kindly here." A calico-dressed woman monotoned, raising her hoe.
The rest of her robotic comrades groaned in metallic agreement as they readied their "weapons," sickles, cattle prods, and the occasional shotgun. There was still a good amount of distance before they reached their target, enough time for him to plan his fight – or flight. Regardless, two words managed to dance across his brain and leave his mouth in almost an inaudible whisper:
"Oh, shit."</font>
Miecz swiftly observed his nearby surroundings. To be honest, this new environment reminded him of his old home back on the mountains – arid, dry, and most of all unforgiving. Of course, back at his home, there were not as many houses and as few trees as this dump. There was also a peculiar man, smelling of sweat and suspicion. Despite having every reason not to, Miecz decided to greet the man from the back with a jolly pat on the shoulder. After all, the swordmonster could get some-
GAH. Miecz suddenly found a burly hand clasped around his neck, attempting to garrote the life out of him with its vice grip. The man was strong alright, but the swordmonster was just as strong, managing to stand on his own two feet even while the assaulter was trying to push his head into the ground. Despite this admirable stand of resistance, Miecz realized his breath was disappearing. He needed to get out of this conundrum, pronto. Perhaps this man could listen to reason? The swordmonster somehow managed to choke a sentence to the man. "'ey, man. Can you let me go?"
<font color="DarkSlateGray">The man blinked.
"I appreciate the greeting, but can you let me go?"
No reply.
"Aghf gasdh cough asdgffgh," Miecz gagged.
The swordmonster decided to end this conversation with a fist to the blank-faced man’s face. Although he was still recovering his breath, Miecz’s jaw hinged down with amazement as a shower of sparks greeted the force of his fist. The assaulting farmhand stumbled back and glared, circuitry fraying from his stripped face. With the infra-red eye beaming back at the defending monsters, the hand of the man deformed and elongated until finally the synthetic skin split apart, exposing a metal thing that Miecz could not put a finger on. As the exposed cyborg started charging, the thing sparking with electricity, Miecz decided he honestly did not want to find out the effects of getting in contact with that.
Screeching like some sort of metallic bull, the robot aimed for Miecz’s neck, but the grinning swordmonster was too quick and too disciplined – he even had the time to unhook his blades! Yet, stubbornness (if there was such a thing) prevailed as the robotic drone continued to swing recklessly, the lethality of his energized arm discharged with a simple parry. Attacks and blocks were traded rapidly between the two combatants until the electrified arm spluttered to battery death. The man took it as a surprise. Miecz took it as a weakness.
Without hesitation, Miecz summoned all his strength to cleave the mimic into two. Showers of painful light scattered everything as bits of metal flew from the sheer strength of the attack. Grinding one last scream from his voice emulators, the body fell down in a heavy heap as strong-smelling fluid oozed from the destroyed machinery.
The swordmonster glanced down at the robotic corpse. The opponent disguised himself. Despite the melting synthetic skin and the fine machinery flawlessly emulating motor functions, he was not human at the end. As Miecz knew, his kind’s visage often had an uncanny predilection to resemble that of man. Though the dead robot’s disguise was flawless compared to his own poor imitation, the visual ruse was thought-provoking enough to make Miecz stop and muse.
His personal reflection was cut short by the introduction of company, bad company, and plenty of it. From the distance, Miecz saw a mob rapidly going his way. They looked like civilians alright: right at home in Shuck Hollow - but their faces were blank, grim with resolve, each and every one. Worst of all, an obvious red light flickered in their eyes and a noticeable droning sound filled the swordmonster’s ears. There was one thing Miecz knew for certain: they were all robots. All of them.
"We don't take strangers too kindly here." A calico-dressed woman monotoned, raising her hoe.
The rest of her robotic comrades groaned in metallic agreement as they readied their "weapons," sickles, cattle prods, and the occasional shotgun. There was still a good amount of distance before they reached their target, enough time for him to plan his fight – or flight. Regardless, two words managed to dance across his brain and leave his mouth in almost an inaudible whisper:
"Oh, shit."</font>