Re: The Vivacious Deadlock: S3G6: Round Two: BJ
12-03-2011, 03:45 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Anomaly.
Being throttled through an infinite number of states of consciousness and unconsciousness within a few minutes isn't exactly the best of experiences one can have, even if one happens to be a giant space hydra. The Kryesan found themselves thoroughly confused about the events of the previous round's end, remembering little more than a few vague flashes. In spite of their extreme mental shielding, they had seemingly been affected much more extensively than their fellow contestants.
Nalzaki found themselves sprawled on a cold floor, made of poorly-upkept, cracked stone bricks. Thoroughly nonplussed, they slowly stumbled to Nalyg's feet, attempting to assess their situation: they found themselves behind a rectangular altar, stained a deep red and engraved with a number of odd symbols. The casual observer might have noted that these symbols appeared to be a complex pattern of interweaving musical staves, but this symbology was of course lost on the hydra.
The room around the altar was perfectly circular, not especially large but more than enough to hold a number of people. Around its exterior, 16 pillars were arranged in groups of four, forming the corners of a square engraved on the floor. The only light in the room came from these pillars, each of which emitted a light which slowly changed color, none displaying the same color as the others at any time. A wide variety of strange devices hung from the ceiling, apparently having been used recently. A large set of doors, each containing mirror images of the same pattern - two vertical lines next to a pair of dots - marked the only entrance to the room, at the end of a lighter-colored path leading to the altar.
Looks like it's been used recently, Nalyg mentally intoned. Sacrifices to some sort of god, I'd imagine, although what purpose these sacrifices serve is debatable.
Yeah, that's just wonderful, Razaran replied. We might be in a temple, then. Probably in the city. Let's just get out as fast as possible.
A savage practice, really, continued Nalyg. I wonder if they really think they're accomplishing something with this. Must be a primitive civilization.
You can keep musing when we're not in the death chamber, Nalyg. Razaran directed his attention to Kanpeki, who appeared to be clutching the burn mark that used to be her left eye. Kanpeki, are you alright?
Kanpeki slowly lowered her hand, revealing again the scar on her face. I'll... I'll be fine. It's just an eye. Razaran's right, Nalyg. We should leave as quickly as possible.
Very well. No need to linger here any longer than necessary. With any luck, we'll find our way out without running into the townsfolk. I'd like to avoid any further unnecessary killing, if at all possible.
Nalyg turned and walked to the door, which had no clear means of opening and, frustratingly, gave way to no amount of pushing. Exchanging a knowing glance with Nalyg, Razaran converted his arm into a large hammer-like bludgeon, and swung at the door with all the force he could muster. All the force he could muster, however, was easily resisted - even absorbed - by the apparently-wooden door. Surprised, Razaran took several more swings, each having the exact same (lack of) effect. Sufficiently angered, he took a swing at one of the stone pillars, and once more harmlessly collided with a dull thud.
What the hell?
It seems the weapons restriction for the round can't be bypassed, Nalyg declared. If we're going to get anywhere, we'll have to use music. Supposedly it has destructive effects here. Wherever "here" is.
This is idiotic, Razaran responded. What do you want me to do, sing?
If that's what it takes, then do it.
You and I both know that I'm not going to do that, Nalyg.
As the two continued to squabble, Kanpeki took a moment to further observe the engravings throughout the chamber. The musical staff patterns on the altar continued down each of its sides, twisting and winding with little discernable pattern around the floor and up the walls, a cacophonous score with little organization or reason apparent in its design. The notes within each staff grew more and more frenetic as they climbed the walls, discordant chords growing more and more complex, eventually forming a solid, nearly-unrecognizable mass as they twisted toward the domed ceiling. Kanpeki's eye followed these patterns as they converged on the exact center of the ceiling, surrounding the image of a trio of figures overlooking the room.
On closer inspection, however, this was not merely a mural of a primitive culture's pantheon - the vaguely-draconic trio, in fact, shared a single body, the eyes of each glowing different colors. Kanpeki stared for several moments at what appeared to be the depiction of the Kryesan themselves, long enough to attract the attention of the other two heads, who each stared in stunned silence upon making the connection.
Is... is that us? Razaran finally questioned, extremely confused and quickly growing agitated.
It appears as though it could be, Nalyg replied, making a poor attempt to keep up his air of calm confidence. It was obvious that he was just as disconcerted by the discovery as the other two, in spite of his best attempts. It could just as easily be a coincidence. How would an image of us end up as the depiction of a god in a random temple in another dimension? It doesn't make sense.
I don't know, but when have things made sense in this battle? It can't just be a coincidence, Nalyg. The one on the left is even... Razaran shot a glance at Kanpeki. Well, you can tell.
The Second Kryesan was also missing an eye, Kanpeki somberly replied after several moments of mental silence. I don't think that helps, but they did disappear without explanation. It's possible-
Kanpeki was interupted by a gasp and a clattering of wood from the now-wide-open doors, the source of which the three immediately turned to face. In the doorway stood an unusually tall woman, her face largely obscured by the large robes she wore, which bore a similar representation of the Kryesan along with unusual, vaguely-musical patterns, not unlike those throughout the chamber. On the floor lay a small pan flute, evidently dropped in surprise by the hooded woman.
"...Hello, there," Nalyg began after a pause. "May I ask you where we are right now? Perhaps more importantly, may I ask why your clothing bears a depiction of us?"
The woman immediately dropped to her knees, prostrating herself before the confused triarch. "Great and mighty Sf'rzando, you have returned at last! You humble me with your presence, God of music. But how can you not recognize your own sacrificial chamber?"
"Our what? What's going on?" Razaran immediately demanded, receiving a brief glare from Nalyg, a glare he knew well.
"Great and powerful Sf'rzando, is something the matter? We have made sacrifices with every new moon in hopes of your return! Have you no memory of your time spent ruling here, many generations ago? What has happened?" The woman looked extremely distressed, though she constantly averted her eyes from Nalzaki.
"I don't know what you're-"
"I am afraid we do not, my subject," Kanpeki interrupted. "By the way, may we have your name before we continue?"
"Shira Yarona, priestess of Santa Nada," she answered. "I am sorry to hear you do not remember us, my god. You must come with me to the High Priest at once; he will know what to do. He is wiser than all of us."
"Thank you, Shira. The blessing of Sf'rzando be with you." Nalyg and Razaran briefly gazed at Kanpeki in astonishment, before quickly taking on as commanding a demeanor as possible.
Before you question my decisions, keep in mind that keeping up this ruse will place our "followers" at our command. This could be to our great advantage.
Of course, Kanpeki, Nalyg replied. As long as they don't find out that we aren't who we say we are, we'll be fine.
At Shira's request, Nalzaki slowly stepped out the door, following her through the downtrodden stone halls of the temple. Quietly, each considered the words of the four-armed man - war was imminent, and they could very well have been placing themselves at the forefront of it.
Being throttled through an infinite number of states of consciousness and unconsciousness within a few minutes isn't exactly the best of experiences one can have, even if one happens to be a giant space hydra. The Kryesan found themselves thoroughly confused about the events of the previous round's end, remembering little more than a few vague flashes. In spite of their extreme mental shielding, they had seemingly been affected much more extensively than their fellow contestants.
Nalzaki found themselves sprawled on a cold floor, made of poorly-upkept, cracked stone bricks. Thoroughly nonplussed, they slowly stumbled to Nalyg's feet, attempting to assess their situation: they found themselves behind a rectangular altar, stained a deep red and engraved with a number of odd symbols. The casual observer might have noted that these symbols appeared to be a complex pattern of interweaving musical staves, but this symbology was of course lost on the hydra.
The room around the altar was perfectly circular, not especially large but more than enough to hold a number of people. Around its exterior, 16 pillars were arranged in groups of four, forming the corners of a square engraved on the floor. The only light in the room came from these pillars, each of which emitted a light which slowly changed color, none displaying the same color as the others at any time. A wide variety of strange devices hung from the ceiling, apparently having been used recently. A large set of doors, each containing mirror images of the same pattern - two vertical lines next to a pair of dots - marked the only entrance to the room, at the end of a lighter-colored path leading to the altar.
Looks like it's been used recently, Nalyg mentally intoned. Sacrifices to some sort of god, I'd imagine, although what purpose these sacrifices serve is debatable.
Yeah, that's just wonderful, Razaran replied. We might be in a temple, then. Probably in the city. Let's just get out as fast as possible.
A savage practice, really, continued Nalyg. I wonder if they really think they're accomplishing something with this. Must be a primitive civilization.
You can keep musing when we're not in the death chamber, Nalyg. Razaran directed his attention to Kanpeki, who appeared to be clutching the burn mark that used to be her left eye. Kanpeki, are you alright?
Kanpeki slowly lowered her hand, revealing again the scar on her face. I'll... I'll be fine. It's just an eye. Razaran's right, Nalyg. We should leave as quickly as possible.
Very well. No need to linger here any longer than necessary. With any luck, we'll find our way out without running into the townsfolk. I'd like to avoid any further unnecessary killing, if at all possible.
Nalyg turned and walked to the door, which had no clear means of opening and, frustratingly, gave way to no amount of pushing. Exchanging a knowing glance with Nalyg, Razaran converted his arm into a large hammer-like bludgeon, and swung at the door with all the force he could muster. All the force he could muster, however, was easily resisted - even absorbed - by the apparently-wooden door. Surprised, Razaran took several more swings, each having the exact same (lack of) effect. Sufficiently angered, he took a swing at one of the stone pillars, and once more harmlessly collided with a dull thud.
What the hell?
It seems the weapons restriction for the round can't be bypassed, Nalyg declared. If we're going to get anywhere, we'll have to use music. Supposedly it has destructive effects here. Wherever "here" is.
This is idiotic, Razaran responded. What do you want me to do, sing?
If that's what it takes, then do it.
You and I both know that I'm not going to do that, Nalyg.
As the two continued to squabble, Kanpeki took a moment to further observe the engravings throughout the chamber. The musical staff patterns on the altar continued down each of its sides, twisting and winding with little discernable pattern around the floor and up the walls, a cacophonous score with little organization or reason apparent in its design. The notes within each staff grew more and more frenetic as they climbed the walls, discordant chords growing more and more complex, eventually forming a solid, nearly-unrecognizable mass as they twisted toward the domed ceiling. Kanpeki's eye followed these patterns as they converged on the exact center of the ceiling, surrounding the image of a trio of figures overlooking the room.
On closer inspection, however, this was not merely a mural of a primitive culture's pantheon - the vaguely-draconic trio, in fact, shared a single body, the eyes of each glowing different colors. Kanpeki stared for several moments at what appeared to be the depiction of the Kryesan themselves, long enough to attract the attention of the other two heads, who each stared in stunned silence upon making the connection.
Is... is that us? Razaran finally questioned, extremely confused and quickly growing agitated.
It appears as though it could be, Nalyg replied, making a poor attempt to keep up his air of calm confidence. It was obvious that he was just as disconcerted by the discovery as the other two, in spite of his best attempts. It could just as easily be a coincidence. How would an image of us end up as the depiction of a god in a random temple in another dimension? It doesn't make sense.
I don't know, but when have things made sense in this battle? It can't just be a coincidence, Nalyg. The one on the left is even... Razaran shot a glance at Kanpeki. Well, you can tell.
The Second Kryesan was also missing an eye, Kanpeki somberly replied after several moments of mental silence. I don't think that helps, but they did disappear without explanation. It's possible-
Kanpeki was interupted by a gasp and a clattering of wood from the now-wide-open doors, the source of which the three immediately turned to face. In the doorway stood an unusually tall woman, her face largely obscured by the large robes she wore, which bore a similar representation of the Kryesan along with unusual, vaguely-musical patterns, not unlike those throughout the chamber. On the floor lay a small pan flute, evidently dropped in surprise by the hooded woman.
"...Hello, there," Nalyg began after a pause. "May I ask you where we are right now? Perhaps more importantly, may I ask why your clothing bears a depiction of us?"
The woman immediately dropped to her knees, prostrating herself before the confused triarch. "Great and mighty Sf'rzando, you have returned at last! You humble me with your presence, God of music. But how can you not recognize your own sacrificial chamber?"
"Our what? What's going on?" Razaran immediately demanded, receiving a brief glare from Nalyg, a glare he knew well.
"Great and powerful Sf'rzando, is something the matter? We have made sacrifices with every new moon in hopes of your return! Have you no memory of your time spent ruling here, many generations ago? What has happened?" The woman looked extremely distressed, though she constantly averted her eyes from Nalzaki.
"I don't know what you're-"
"I am afraid we do not, my subject," Kanpeki interrupted. "By the way, may we have your name before we continue?"
"Shira Yarona, priestess of Santa Nada," she answered. "I am sorry to hear you do not remember us, my god. You must come with me to the High Priest at once; he will know what to do. He is wiser than all of us."
"Thank you, Shira. The blessing of Sf'rzando be with you." Nalyg and Razaran briefly gazed at Kanpeki in astonishment, before quickly taking on as commanding a demeanor as possible.
Before you question my decisions, keep in mind that keeping up this ruse will place our "followers" at our command. This could be to our great advantage.
Of course, Kanpeki, Nalyg replied. As long as they don't find out that we aren't who we say we are, we'll be fine.
At Shira's request, Nalzaki slowly stepped out the door, following her through the downtrodden stone halls of the temple. Quietly, each considered the words of the four-armed man - war was imminent, and they could very well have been placing themselves at the forefront of it.