Re: The Vivacious Deadlock: S3G6: Round One: Genreshift
06-11-2011, 04:43 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Godbot.
Sir Cedric set his glass down hard.
“But jus' as I get back to Haorot with the head of Horgark, the Beast with No Name,” he continued, complaining in the barkeeper's general direction, “this weird eyeless monsterbitch appears in th' middle of everything.”
The barkeeper nodded disinterestedly. He took off his cowboy hat and scowled over his shoulder at Dr. Harmon stepping into his saloon.
“An' I figure she's Horgark's mother or sum'thing, maybe come for revenge, right?” he folded his enormous arms on the table, completely ignoring the barkeeper and staring into the inch of dark liquid left in his glass. “But then she just sweeps me up in one wing, saying not to worry, she's like a dove o' peace.” The bartender reached for the glass to refill it, but Cedric pulled it away and paused to down the rest. “An' everyone's cel'bratin' an' she might be an angel and no one knows what to do, so they just stand there gaping while she pulls me into... wherever.” He wiped bitter liquid from his mouth with the back of his gauntlet, cutting his lip a little. He carelessly examined the blood on his hand and reached across the counter for a bandana-print napkin. The bartender refilled his glass, keeping his eyes on the scientist as he moved to step around the counter.
“An' the next thing I know, she's throwin' herself on top of me, an' she's introducin' me to some women an' children and monsters she expects me to kill. Crazy bitch could've just asked me,” he muttered, taking a sip. The alcohol touched his open cut, burning into it, and he very nearly spat his drink out. He covered his mouth, clearly shaken. “An' now I'm here,” he growled, “in some town I've never heard of, with no food or money, drinkin' Valthen-knows-what an' tryin' to remember who I'm even supposed to kill-”
“Pardon me, sir,” interrupted the barkeeper with a bit of a forced southern drawl. “Did you just say you don't have any money?” His moustache twitched quizzically.
Cedric blinked.
He raised a fingertip to his lip, checking if it was still bleeding.
The barkeeper leaned forward a bit. “Can you pay for your drinks,” he asked.
“Don't touch me!” barked a woman somewhere from behind him. Cedric looked over his enormous pauldron in time to see an auburn-haired woman using a rather largish probe to beat back the rather largerish cowboy who had been standing behind her. “Pig.”
“That wasn't, a, uh, ma'am, that wasn't, like, a sexual thing,” the cowboy assured her nervously, holding up two hands to protect his face and hat. “It was more of a get-out-of-our-saloon thing-”
Cedric's wooden barstool clattered to the floor as he stood. He hefted his enormous broadsword with one hand and balled his fist, wreathing it in flame. He sniffed.
“ROAAAAARGH!” he bellowed, stomping hard enough to crack the floorboards.
Dr. Harmon and the cowboys stared back at him, confused.
Cedric stepped forwards, widening his stance. Sigrar erupted into flames. He roared at the top of his lungs, raising his blade above his head.
One cowboy drew his revolver.
“RHAAAARGH!” Sir Cedric continued, thundering towards Dr. Harmon and her small crowd of attackers. He effortlessly shouldered a table aside and dragged his sword through the floor as he ran, carving a deep gash in the wooden boards. (Strangely, the floorboards never caught fire for more than a half-second at a time.) One cowboy fumbled to load his pistol while they scattered, leaving the physicist nearly cowering, her composure completely broken.
The sensor in her hand spiked.
Sir Cedric's armored palm slammed into her, knocking her safely out of the way and into a nearby table. With another, even excessively louder war cry, the Legendary Knight brought Sigrar down on the table between two of the cowboys, raggedly cleaving it in two. It collapsed in flames. Two shots sounded behind him, and a bullet glanced off his heavy armor. He turned slowly to face the shooter, who was swearing and trying to un-jam his authentically poor-quality revolver. Cedric held out one hand, directing a wave of intense heat at the man's unfamiliar weapon, which heated up until it was a healthy shade of orange. The man screamed and dropped the gun, which promptly started to burn a hole in the floor. As he scampered towards the door clutching the burns on his hand, Cedric carelessly upended a table onto him.
The doors to the saloon swung shut, leaving no trace of the other cowboys.
Dr. Melissa Harmon groaned, sitting up and rubbing the back of her neck. The two halves of the brittle old table dug into her back uncomfortably, and her sensor lay off to one side. Thankfully, it was still attached to her backpack by a cord – otherwise she might have lost it.
“You should get up,” Sir Cedric's off-hand advised her. She wobbled, not quite sure if she was supposed to be standing or not. As she blankly gathered up her multiple-worlds sensor, Sir Cedric gathered her up and hurried her out the door. She barely had time to look over her shoulder at the scene of spectacular wreckage and stunned patrons behind her. The saloon even looked a little bit on fire. “Wh-” she began, but Cedric hastily rounded a corner.
The bartender glared after them, his eyes fixed on the spot where Sir Cedric and Dr. Harmon had vanished from view.
Bastard didn't pay, did he.
One hand went to the bartender's cowboy hat, pulling it over his brow and straightening it. The other hand went to the shotgun behind the bar.
Sir Cedric set his glass down hard.
“But jus' as I get back to Haorot with the head of Horgark, the Beast with No Name,” he continued, complaining in the barkeeper's general direction, “this weird eyeless monsterbitch appears in th' middle of everything.”
The barkeeper nodded disinterestedly. He took off his cowboy hat and scowled over his shoulder at Dr. Harmon stepping into his saloon.
“An' I figure she's Horgark's mother or sum'thing, maybe come for revenge, right?” he folded his enormous arms on the table, completely ignoring the barkeeper and staring into the inch of dark liquid left in his glass. “But then she just sweeps me up in one wing, saying not to worry, she's like a dove o' peace.” The bartender reached for the glass to refill it, but Cedric pulled it away and paused to down the rest. “An' everyone's cel'bratin' an' she might be an angel and no one knows what to do, so they just stand there gaping while she pulls me into... wherever.” He wiped bitter liquid from his mouth with the back of his gauntlet, cutting his lip a little. He carelessly examined the blood on his hand and reached across the counter for a bandana-print napkin. The bartender refilled his glass, keeping his eyes on the scientist as he moved to step around the counter.
“An' the next thing I know, she's throwin' herself on top of me, an' she's introducin' me to some women an' children and monsters she expects me to kill. Crazy bitch could've just asked me,” he muttered, taking a sip. The alcohol touched his open cut, burning into it, and he very nearly spat his drink out. He covered his mouth, clearly shaken. “An' now I'm here,” he growled, “in some town I've never heard of, with no food or money, drinkin' Valthen-knows-what an' tryin' to remember who I'm even supposed to kill-”
“Pardon me, sir,” interrupted the barkeeper with a bit of a forced southern drawl. “Did you just say you don't have any money?” His moustache twitched quizzically.
Cedric blinked.
He raised a fingertip to his lip, checking if it was still bleeding.
The barkeeper leaned forward a bit. “Can you pay for your drinks,” he asked.
“Don't touch me!” barked a woman somewhere from behind him. Cedric looked over his enormous pauldron in time to see an auburn-haired woman using a rather largish probe to beat back the rather largerish cowboy who had been standing behind her. “Pig.”
“That wasn't, a, uh, ma'am, that wasn't, like, a sexual thing,” the cowboy assured her nervously, holding up two hands to protect his face and hat. “It was more of a get-out-of-our-saloon thing-”
Cedric's wooden barstool clattered to the floor as he stood. He hefted his enormous broadsword with one hand and balled his fist, wreathing it in flame. He sniffed.
“ROAAAAARGH!” he bellowed, stomping hard enough to crack the floorboards.
Dr. Harmon and the cowboys stared back at him, confused.
Cedric stepped forwards, widening his stance. Sigrar erupted into flames. He roared at the top of his lungs, raising his blade above his head.
One cowboy drew his revolver.
“RHAAAARGH!” Sir Cedric continued, thundering towards Dr. Harmon and her small crowd of attackers. He effortlessly shouldered a table aside and dragged his sword through the floor as he ran, carving a deep gash in the wooden boards. (Strangely, the floorboards never caught fire for more than a half-second at a time.) One cowboy fumbled to load his pistol while they scattered, leaving the physicist nearly cowering, her composure completely broken.
The sensor in her hand spiked.
Sir Cedric's armored palm slammed into her, knocking her safely out of the way and into a nearby table. With another, even excessively louder war cry, the Legendary Knight brought Sigrar down on the table between two of the cowboys, raggedly cleaving it in two. It collapsed in flames. Two shots sounded behind him, and a bullet glanced off his heavy armor. He turned slowly to face the shooter, who was swearing and trying to un-jam his authentically poor-quality revolver. Cedric held out one hand, directing a wave of intense heat at the man's unfamiliar weapon, which heated up until it was a healthy shade of orange. The man screamed and dropped the gun, which promptly started to burn a hole in the floor. As he scampered towards the door clutching the burns on his hand, Cedric carelessly upended a table onto him.
The doors to the saloon swung shut, leaving no trace of the other cowboys.
Dr. Melissa Harmon groaned, sitting up and rubbing the back of her neck. The two halves of the brittle old table dug into her back uncomfortably, and her sensor lay off to one side. Thankfully, it was still attached to her backpack by a cord – otherwise she might have lost it.
“You should get up,” Sir Cedric's off-hand advised her. She wobbled, not quite sure if she was supposed to be standing or not. As she blankly gathered up her multiple-worlds sensor, Sir Cedric gathered her up and hurried her out the door. She barely had time to look over her shoulder at the scene of spectacular wreckage and stunned patrons behind her. The saloon even looked a little bit on fire. “Wh-” she began, but Cedric hastily rounded a corner.
The bartender glared after them, his eyes fixed on the spot where Sir Cedric and Dr. Harmon had vanished from view.
Bastard didn't pay, did he.
One hand went to the bartender's cowboy hat, pulling it over his brow and straightening it. The other hand went to the shotgun behind the bar.