Re: Mini-Grand 5102 [Round 2: Shuck Hollow]
08-03-2011, 03:52 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by XX.
Rome roared.
A thicket of thorns, a nest of vipers was at its sides, piercing striped fur with hateful metal teeth. Each blessed wave of dissolution that the Beast tried to succumb to was halted by their relentless fangs, and it ran howling in agony and rage. The weight of the many-blades, the hated numerii, pressed down on Rome’s spine with a wretched force that slowed it down and caused it shoulders to twist and roll, unbalancing its gait and obscuring its path. Rome could not flee, could not run from the loathesome creature- it bucked, feeling the many-blades shift but not offering the release the Dust Beast craved. Metal bit deeper into its flesh and the apparition screamed with the voices of the legion, crushing the bodies of their foes beneath the hooves and wheels of chariots. It was maddened, maddened, and as it ran Rome saw only suffering and the blood raining down from the skies as the world mourned for its sins.
To the gathered androids, Rome could have been War, early for the apocalypse and bleeding damnation in its wake. Dust clung to metal and plastic and burned through it as acid on flesh; glittering metal skulls shone for a moment before rotting away before the horrified eyes of those who had merely lost limbs and digits. The Beast ran rampant through the crowd, screaming like the oldest soul in Hell and impaling what it could not burn with scything horns. It was senseless, merciless, and as it trained its eyes on the bulk of the rail cannon looming on the horizon those few machines still capable of rational thought found themselves wondering whether there had ever been a point in trying to prevent the end of the world.
_________
Janet sailed ahead of a raging mob, ghostly hair motionless despite the harsh prairie wind as she giggled at her pursuers. Everything from rakes to quadruple-barreled plasma rifles was bristling in the hands of the rapidly growing mob. Pre-recorded cries of displeasure echoed off the barn walls as she drifted onwards, oblivious to the bullets that occasionally peppered her ethereal form. Even without the emotions she usually relied on for her shenanigans, she was still managing to have a pretty decent time with her impromptu audience. Snickering, she swooped over the heads of the closest townspeople, raising her arms above her head and waving them around. “WoooOOOooOOooOO,” she said, laughing so hard she wouldn’t have been able to breathe if breathing was something she still did. “You can’t shoot a ghost, stupid!”
Someone in the crowd decided to test this theory just as Janet rounded the corner of an oversized tool and was greeted by the sight of a massacre.
A bullet made its exit slightly above her left eye and zipped out over the carnage, passing over dismembered bodies leaking dark fluids from ragged stumps into the withered earth. A woman’s face, slack in death, glared at Janet accusingly thirty feet away from a gently twitching body; it took the ghost a few seconds to realize that where her neck ended a pile of wires was spitting out orange sparks. “Robots?” she said, staring out over the heaps of broken bodies interspersed with metal shrapnel. Distantly, something exploded. “You’re freaking robots? What the hell, guys?”
The mob responded by trying to grab her, their hands swiping clean through her body as she drifted, growing increasingly irritated. No wonder she hadn’t been able to get a reaction! They were all machines! They weren’t even alive…
A smile appeared on her face as she realized what this meant.
__________
Rome roared.
The many-blades’ knives had freed the blood from its body, and it found its hooves slipping as it ravaged the metal behemoth that had dared cross its path. Blind with rage, it stumbled across the smooth surface, glaring at the ground below with frenzied eyes as if it could offer the Beast some comfort from the needles in its back. It hurt, it hurt, ave Maria gratia plena there was fire in its skin and all hell had broken loose in Rome’s heart as it cleared the barrel of the cannon and screamed so loud it swore that Jove himself had sent thunder to answer it. Hate was its bread and hate was its wine as Rome gave one final roar and leapt from the tower of the cannon, howling its hatred as it slammed to the ground back-first with Miecz underneath it.
Rome roared.
A thicket of thorns, a nest of vipers was at its sides, piercing striped fur with hateful metal teeth. Each blessed wave of dissolution that the Beast tried to succumb to was halted by their relentless fangs, and it ran howling in agony and rage. The weight of the many-blades, the hated numerii, pressed down on Rome’s spine with a wretched force that slowed it down and caused it shoulders to twist and roll, unbalancing its gait and obscuring its path. Rome could not flee, could not run from the loathesome creature- it bucked, feeling the many-blades shift but not offering the release the Dust Beast craved. Metal bit deeper into its flesh and the apparition screamed with the voices of the legion, crushing the bodies of their foes beneath the hooves and wheels of chariots. It was maddened, maddened, and as it ran Rome saw only suffering and the blood raining down from the skies as the world mourned for its sins.
To the gathered androids, Rome could have been War, early for the apocalypse and bleeding damnation in its wake. Dust clung to metal and plastic and burned through it as acid on flesh; glittering metal skulls shone for a moment before rotting away before the horrified eyes of those who had merely lost limbs and digits. The Beast ran rampant through the crowd, screaming like the oldest soul in Hell and impaling what it could not burn with scything horns. It was senseless, merciless, and as it trained its eyes on the bulk of the rail cannon looming on the horizon those few machines still capable of rational thought found themselves wondering whether there had ever been a point in trying to prevent the end of the world.
_________
Janet sailed ahead of a raging mob, ghostly hair motionless despite the harsh prairie wind as she giggled at her pursuers. Everything from rakes to quadruple-barreled plasma rifles was bristling in the hands of the rapidly growing mob. Pre-recorded cries of displeasure echoed off the barn walls as she drifted onwards, oblivious to the bullets that occasionally peppered her ethereal form. Even without the emotions she usually relied on for her shenanigans, she was still managing to have a pretty decent time with her impromptu audience. Snickering, she swooped over the heads of the closest townspeople, raising her arms above her head and waving them around. “WoooOOOooOOooOO,” she said, laughing so hard she wouldn’t have been able to breathe if breathing was something she still did. “You can’t shoot a ghost, stupid!”
Someone in the crowd decided to test this theory just as Janet rounded the corner of an oversized tool and was greeted by the sight of a massacre.
A bullet made its exit slightly above her left eye and zipped out over the carnage, passing over dismembered bodies leaking dark fluids from ragged stumps into the withered earth. A woman’s face, slack in death, glared at Janet accusingly thirty feet away from a gently twitching body; it took the ghost a few seconds to realize that where her neck ended a pile of wires was spitting out orange sparks. “Robots?” she said, staring out over the heaps of broken bodies interspersed with metal shrapnel. Distantly, something exploded. “You’re freaking robots? What the hell, guys?”
The mob responded by trying to grab her, their hands swiping clean through her body as she drifted, growing increasingly irritated. No wonder she hadn’t been able to get a reaction! They were all machines! They weren’t even alive…
A smile appeared on her face as she realized what this meant.
__________
Rome roared.
The many-blades’ knives had freed the blood from its body, and it found its hooves slipping as it ravaged the metal behemoth that had dared cross its path. Blind with rage, it stumbled across the smooth surface, glaring at the ground below with frenzied eyes as if it could offer the Beast some comfort from the needles in its back. It hurt, it hurt, ave Maria gratia plena there was fire in its skin and all hell had broken loose in Rome’s heart as it cleared the barrel of the cannon and screamed so loud it swore that Jove himself had sent thunder to answer it. Hate was its bread and hate was its wine as Rome gave one final roar and leapt from the tower of the cannon, howling its hatred as it slammed to the ground back-first with Miecz underneath it.