Re: The Grand Battle II! [Round 1: The Labyrinth Field!]
10-03-2009, 05:31 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.
The Faceless gazed up along the boundary of this little world, trying to understand what its senses registered about the situation. This place didn't make any sense, what disconcerted it slightly more was that its previous action made little sense.
Vyrm'n had been acting on an instinct it did not know it had, cast away long ago when it plummeted from the Edge into this mad universe of matter which burned its elsewhere soul. The emptiness it had seen beyond there (true emptiness, the sort it soared into with its legion brethren back home; not the matter-studded voids called outer space found within the Universe) reminded it of a home it now only remembered from an encylopedia, a dry, clinical version of a memory that once lit up this black soul.
Of course, it had no comprehension of this. It only assumed the void would be the best way to escape this "game", so the researcher could give Vyrm'n the "freedom" it had been promised since its memories were cast away.
Vyrm'n, again, had no understanding of "freedom" either, beyond that dictionary definition the Faceless' soul could never truly yearn for. It knew one was supposed to wish for freedom, but at the same time, it did not know.
If it had lungs, Vyrm'n would've sighed about then. It simply shivered, sending its inky form aquiver; its closest approximation to the state of being a sigh would've conferred. All this rumination was meaningless and without fruit. Perhaps its time would be best spent finding out the nature of its task in this pseudo-world.
It slithered over to the nearest person, an emaciated human arm extending seamlessly from the black mass and tapping Cabaret on the shoulder. Waiting mutely, the pillar of night stood awaiting his attention.
Cabaret turned, taking in the shadow's appearance, trying not to let any misconstruable emotion appear on his face. Last thing he wanted was to go offending big effing shadows from the word go. "Um, hello there."
The Faceless made no response. Cabaret raised an eyebrow behind his mask. "Can I help you?"
"..."
"Can you talk?" At this, the pillar of night started to liquify around 7 feet up, on a patch facing the conjurer. Something resembling a human face, still as a death-mask, formed upon the inky surface.
The face appeared to be a human girl's; except Cabaret noted, slightly disconcerted, that there were no eyeballs, simply empty sockets - though it was hard to tell what with a lack of reflective sheen on the Faceless' hide to show where the light and shadow worked across the face.
Vyrm'n was expressionless, but then the whole face shifted from side to side. The rest of the darkness made not a move; the face simply slipping first right and left.
"Oh. Was there something you wanted to ask me?" The face shifted up and down. "Hmm... try writing in the dirt, then. Can you write?" Nod. The Faceless' shape slid like a melting snowman, until black arm emerged again from the darkness and clumsily carved awkward letters into the dirt, clunky caps which took the creature an age, as its limb only resembled an arm and seemed to have no muscle to make it move in a normal fashion.
WHY ARE WE HERE?
The Faceless gazed up along the boundary of this little world, trying to understand what its senses registered about the situation. This place didn't make any sense, what disconcerted it slightly more was that its previous action made little sense.
Vyrm'n had been acting on an instinct it did not know it had, cast away long ago when it plummeted from the Edge into this mad universe of matter which burned its elsewhere soul. The emptiness it had seen beyond there (true emptiness, the sort it soared into with its legion brethren back home; not the matter-studded voids called outer space found within the Universe) reminded it of a home it now only remembered from an encylopedia, a dry, clinical version of a memory that once lit up this black soul.
Of course, it had no comprehension of this. It only assumed the void would be the best way to escape this "game", so the researcher could give Vyrm'n the "freedom" it had been promised since its memories were cast away.
Vyrm'n, again, had no understanding of "freedom" either, beyond that dictionary definition the Faceless' soul could never truly yearn for. It knew one was supposed to wish for freedom, but at the same time, it did not know.
If it had lungs, Vyrm'n would've sighed about then. It simply shivered, sending its inky form aquiver; its closest approximation to the state of being a sigh would've conferred. All this rumination was meaningless and without fruit. Perhaps its time would be best spent finding out the nature of its task in this pseudo-world.
It slithered over to the nearest person, an emaciated human arm extending seamlessly from the black mass and tapping Cabaret on the shoulder. Waiting mutely, the pillar of night stood awaiting his attention.
Cabaret turned, taking in the shadow's appearance, trying not to let any misconstruable emotion appear on his face. Last thing he wanted was to go offending big effing shadows from the word go. "Um, hello there."
The Faceless made no response. Cabaret raised an eyebrow behind his mask. "Can I help you?"
"..."
"Can you talk?" At this, the pillar of night started to liquify around 7 feet up, on a patch facing the conjurer. Something resembling a human face, still as a death-mask, formed upon the inky surface.
The face appeared to be a human girl's; except Cabaret noted, slightly disconcerted, that there were no eyeballs, simply empty sockets - though it was hard to tell what with a lack of reflective sheen on the Faceless' hide to show where the light and shadow worked across the face.
Vyrm'n was expressionless, but then the whole face shifted from side to side. The rest of the darkness made not a move; the face simply slipping first right and left.
"Oh. Was there something you wanted to ask me?" The face shifted up and down. "Hmm... try writing in the dirt, then. Can you write?" Nod. The Faceless' shape slid like a melting snowman, until black arm emerged again from the darkness and clumsily carved awkward letters into the dirt, clunky caps which took the creature an age, as its limb only resembled an arm and seemed to have no muscle to make it move in a normal fashion.
WHY ARE WE HERE?
peace to the unsung peace to the martyrs | i'm johnny rotten appleseed
clouds is shaky love | broke as hell but i got a bunch of ringtones
eyes blood red bruise aubergine | Sue took something now Sue doesn't sleep | saint average, day in the life of
woke up in the noon smelling doom and death | out the house, great outdoors
staying warm in arctic blizzard | that's my battle 'til I get inanimate | still up in the same clothes living like a gameshow
clouds is shaky love | broke as hell but i got a bunch of ringtones
eyes blood red bruise aubergine | Sue took something now Sue doesn't sleep | saint average, day in the life of
woke up in the noon smelling doom and death | out the house, great outdoors
staying warm in arctic blizzard | that's my battle 'til I get inanimate | still up in the same clothes living like a gameshow