Re: The Vivacious Deadlock: S3G6: Round One: Genreshift
06-14-2011, 06:24 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Pick Yer Poison.
The shopkeeper stormed out of the saloon, hat waving dramatically in the increasing wind. Rain began to fall, dampening his wide-brimmed hat. He looked up from underneath it at the rapidly vanishing figures of Cedric and Melissa. "Not yet," he whispered to himself. "First, I must gather my posse. Then...we ride." He turned back, heading deeper into the western section of the town. After he turned the corner, a shadow peeled itself off the wall, red eyes opening and then rolling sarcastically. What a drama whore. Klendel snuck along the wall towards the saloon doors, moving to peek under them. This shouldn't be too hard, as long as left me a few bodies. I just hope there's not anyone left in--SHIT. He pulled his head back from the door into the relative darkness, face still stinging from the brightness of the room. How did he manage to set everything on fire?
Klendel drew away from the doors and back into the concealing shadows. He knew without a doubt that he couldn't do what he had planned in such a bright environment; it would just sap too much strength out of him. I've got to put that out somehow. He glanced up at the gathering storm clouds, considering for a moment the possibility of carting water in to put out the fire, but the idea struck him as mundane, and he discarded it immediately. He preferred to choose the less obvious solutions; it made it harder for others to follow his logic, and doing so had saved enough of his schemes to be worth the extra effort it sometimes required. That, and it was usually much more fun.
Klendel slid up the wall of the saloon, his gear the only thing marking his progress. He quickly reached the top of the one-story building, flowing over the edge of the flat roof and reforming into a humanoid figure. He made a show of dusting himself off, little wisps of shadow spinning away from him and floating to the ground, where they slid back into his feet. From the descriptions the Spectator--Klendel just barely avoided stumbling forward as another memory threatened to overwhelm him. He spent a few moments pushing it back until it subsided, wondering again why such ancient thoughts swirled up from the depths of his mind whenever he thought about that woman. Lightning clashed above him, and he jumped slightly. It wasn't like him to get lost in thought like that. He shrugged it off; no time to chastise himself for what was already done. He knelt down on the top of the roof, the fingers of one of his hands lengthening steadily into claws. He began cutting his way through the ceiling, and was delighted to find that it was only half an inch thick. He began cutting through the entire thing in a rectangle, approximately following the border of the roof, but almost a foot away from the edge.
It wasn't long before the obvious happened, and with an enormous CRACK the roof collapsed inwards. Klendel leaped back onto the nearly-a-foot-long ledge he had left himself, balancing himself with inhuman ease, and watched the weight of the section of the roof that had fallen quickly drag the rest down, until it was hanging by one side, broken in several places from its own weight. Klendel shook his head mockingly. "How poorly designed." He hopped down, causing the roof to buckle slightly just from the addition of his own weight, small as it was. The rain had made short work of the fires in open end of the saloon, and any that were still remaining were blocked by the fallen ceiling. Klendel almost clapped his hands with delight when he saw an untouched body in the corner, the blood beneath it mingling with the rainwater; it couldn't be more perfect.
He walked over and dragged the corpse to one side, then plunged a claw into it, scratching around inside a little, pulling it out when it was covered in blood. He moved it over to the wall and slowly began to ink out a short phrase on the wall. It wasn't long before he stepped back to study his work, licking the remaining liquid from his claw. "SIR CEDRIC THE VALIANT SENDS HIS REGARDS" was scrawled across the wall in the man's blood, protected from the rain by the small ledge Klendel had left hanging onto the edge of the ceiling. He put his unclawed hand up to his chin thoughtfully. "A brilliant piece, presenting a subtle viewpoint of the world at large in a manner easily visible by all...the artist's message could be clearer if he added one final touch." He advanced on the corpse of the man, which he had propped up in a sitting position against the wall, beneath the words, his legs resting on the broken ceiling. With a rapid slashing motion, he cut open the man's chest, leaving his entrails, already cut into several pieces from Klendel's efforts to gather his paint, to spill out onto his lap in a bloody mess. Klendel stepped back, again licking the blood off his claws before proceeding. "Brilliant! Now it's a true masterpiece." He slipped out the saloon doors and melted back into the shadows, leaving his message to be uncovered by the next unfortunate patron who wanted a western-style drink.
The shopkeeper stormed out of the saloon, hat waving dramatically in the increasing wind. Rain began to fall, dampening his wide-brimmed hat. He looked up from underneath it at the rapidly vanishing figures of Cedric and Melissa. "Not yet," he whispered to himself. "First, I must gather my posse. Then...we ride." He turned back, heading deeper into the western section of the town. After he turned the corner, a shadow peeled itself off the wall, red eyes opening and then rolling sarcastically. What a drama whore. Klendel snuck along the wall towards the saloon doors, moving to peek under them. This shouldn't be too hard, as long as left me a few bodies. I just hope there's not anyone left in--SHIT. He pulled his head back from the door into the relative darkness, face still stinging from the brightness of the room. How did he manage to set everything on fire?
Klendel drew away from the doors and back into the concealing shadows. He knew without a doubt that he couldn't do what he had planned in such a bright environment; it would just sap too much strength out of him. I've got to put that out somehow. He glanced up at the gathering storm clouds, considering for a moment the possibility of carting water in to put out the fire, but the idea struck him as mundane, and he discarded it immediately. He preferred to choose the less obvious solutions; it made it harder for others to follow his logic, and doing so had saved enough of his schemes to be worth the extra effort it sometimes required. That, and it was usually much more fun.
Klendel slid up the wall of the saloon, his gear the only thing marking his progress. He quickly reached the top of the one-story building, flowing over the edge of the flat roof and reforming into a humanoid figure. He made a show of dusting himself off, little wisps of shadow spinning away from him and floating to the ground, where they slid back into his feet. From the descriptions the Spectator--Klendel just barely avoided stumbling forward as another memory threatened to overwhelm him. He spent a few moments pushing it back until it subsided, wondering again why such ancient thoughts swirled up from the depths of his mind whenever he thought about that woman. Lightning clashed above him, and he jumped slightly. It wasn't like him to get lost in thought like that. He shrugged it off; no time to chastise himself for what was already done. He knelt down on the top of the roof, the fingers of one of his hands lengthening steadily into claws. He began cutting his way through the ceiling, and was delighted to find that it was only half an inch thick. He began cutting through the entire thing in a rectangle, approximately following the border of the roof, but almost a foot away from the edge.
It wasn't long before the obvious happened, and with an enormous CRACK the roof collapsed inwards. Klendel leaped back onto the nearly-a-foot-long ledge he had left himself, balancing himself with inhuman ease, and watched the weight of the section of the roof that had fallen quickly drag the rest down, until it was hanging by one side, broken in several places from its own weight. Klendel shook his head mockingly. "How poorly designed." He hopped down, causing the roof to buckle slightly just from the addition of his own weight, small as it was. The rain had made short work of the fires in open end of the saloon, and any that were still remaining were blocked by the fallen ceiling. Klendel almost clapped his hands with delight when he saw an untouched body in the corner, the blood beneath it mingling with the rainwater; it couldn't be more perfect.
He walked over and dragged the corpse to one side, then plunged a claw into it, scratching around inside a little, pulling it out when it was covered in blood. He moved it over to the wall and slowly began to ink out a short phrase on the wall. It wasn't long before he stepped back to study his work, licking the remaining liquid from his claw. "SIR CEDRIC THE VALIANT SENDS HIS REGARDS" was scrawled across the wall in the man's blood, protected from the rain by the small ledge Klendel had left hanging onto the edge of the ceiling. He put his unclawed hand up to his chin thoughtfully. "A brilliant piece, presenting a subtle viewpoint of the world at large in a manner easily visible by all...the artist's message could be clearer if he added one final touch." He advanced on the corpse of the man, which he had propped up in a sitting position against the wall, beneath the words, his legs resting on the broken ceiling. With a rapid slashing motion, he cut open the man's chest, leaving his entrails, already cut into several pieces from Klendel's efforts to gather his paint, to spill out onto his lap in a bloody mess. Klendel stepped back, again licking the blood off his claws before proceeding. "Brilliant! Now it's a true masterpiece." He slipped out the saloon doors and melted back into the shadows, leaving his message to be uncovered by the next unfortunate patron who wanted a western-style drink.
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