Re: The Grand Battle II! [Round 2: Destructo World!]
10-11-2009, 05:49 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.
Vyrm'n took in the landscape from its lofty vantage point; some super-subconscious memory of the Tleilaxu giving the Faceless the impression that the gentle breeze playing across its dark surface was something to be savoured.
Vyrm'n didn't like this place as much as the Labyrinth Field. The solids and gases were all crisscrossing and meshed together: rickety, skeletal towers weaving through the air to hold up the great snaky spines of rollercoasters; the spider-web lattice of the ferris wheel; the deceptive cavernous interiors concealed beneath the gaudy, bulging skins of tents. The resulting song was even more chaotic and confusing to the Faceless than the (relatively) elegant simplicity of the Field's.
The audible noises too: the creak and groan and clatter of the rides; that strange ghostly murmur that permeated the air, the sound of a crowd of humans shouting and calling and living, with no humans to produce it; and the monotonously repetitive, insistent baseline of the fairground organ that permeated the soundscape.
All in all, this place was intensely irritating to the Faceless, and it wanted out. It gazed sightlessly at the mockingly welcome void beyond the park boundary; it knew that route held no promise of escape.
So the Faceless got thinking. It knew one of the seven had to die to effect a change in setting from the Observer. Therefore a quick kill was all that was needed. Vyrm'n found the conclusion so surprisingly simple, it would have laughed if it was capable. The Faceless' sentient mind started to come to the fore as it sorted out the logistics of killing. The sentient part of it unknowingly relished the opportunity. All this musing and ruminating was a far cry from the simpler times the Faceless had been through; where it was simply a matter of kill, kill, kill.
The Sunset was certainly out of the question, and Vyrm'n concluded by extension Samuel, who had bested the Balancer. Maxwell... the Faceless decided not to think too hard about that; justifying the alliance would only work against this cold logic it currently employed. Best to keep it a simple no, for convenience's sake.
That left... Galus, Gestalt, and Cabaret. Galus was still an unknown for the Faceless; even in its murderlust it was able to account for the possibility that the space marine may be keeping his most powerful abilities hidden. Gestalt... was a tough foe; to take it down in a world full of unsecured objects would expend a lot of the Faceless' strength, leaving it vulnerable in later battles.
That left Cabaret. The shadow already had hit (of sorts) out on the conjurer, and although this time he would not be as naive when Vyrm'n struck, without the schrotgolem and the professor to rescue him the remaining six could be out of this deafening matterscape without too much delay.
Vyrm'n took a deep breath in its head; or at least approximated the calming effect on its consciousness. To kill Cabaret... it set its logical faculties back in order. First, Vyrm'n needed to eliminate that last unwitting line of Cabaret's defences; Gestalt.
Extending its consciousness out again like a blip of sonar (several times before it was successful; on account of the awful background din) Vyrm'n located the fuzzy definition of space which the schrotgolem predominantly occupied. It appeared to be slowly dismantling a "Test Your Strength" booth, removing the bell, hammer, screws, and the tripwire that would electrocute you through the hammer if the little marker reached the top.
Vyrm'n took off again, as if on cue, with the doom drop carriage reaching its peak beneath Vyrm'n's seat and plummetting with a ghostly scream (or five) of terrified delight. It glided down the main thoroughfare until it slid to a halt a fair distance from Gestalt, but hopefully showing it could've tried striking the golem by flying all the way.
Gestalt made no indication of having noticed, not having a head to turn in surprise or a voice to exclaim; but several knives and other cutlery implements emerged from the boxes, hovering in front of Gestalt as it continued to methodically take apart the stand. A breadknife lunged forward, Vyrm'n let it sink into the darkness before grabbing it with a suddenness that left the long blade oscillating violently. Vyrm'n opened the connection but to its surprise was immediately halted with a rebuke from the golem.
I do not appreciate you cluttering up my thoughts, Faceless. Begone. The breadknife trembled violently in protest at its capture; Vyrm'n considered swallowing it but instead released it to its owner. Vyrm'n shuffled forward a few more metres, until they were about the same distance apart as when the two entities had stood off in the Labyrinth Field. Gestalt repeated, less audibly but more menacingly, begone. The Faceless stabbed the earth with its finger, clumsily carving out words. The schrotgolem paused its work for a moment, before tossing a pencil at the Faceless. Picking up the abandoned implement, Vyrm'n re-equipped it in the same manner as the knife, and continued to etch the soil (although it at least thought to use the blunt end.)
<I NEED TO KNOW WHY DID YOU ATTACK ME IN THE FIELD I WAS NOT HARMING YOUR ALLY>
Gestalt finally halted, carrying a mess of circuitry which had previously been hidden under the pad you were supposed to pummel with the hammer.
Vyrm'n took in the landscape from its lofty vantage point; some super-subconscious memory of the Tleilaxu giving the Faceless the impression that the gentle breeze playing across its dark surface was something to be savoured.
Vyrm'n didn't like this place as much as the Labyrinth Field. The solids and gases were all crisscrossing and meshed together: rickety, skeletal towers weaving through the air to hold up the great snaky spines of rollercoasters; the spider-web lattice of the ferris wheel; the deceptive cavernous interiors concealed beneath the gaudy, bulging skins of tents. The resulting song was even more chaotic and confusing to the Faceless than the (relatively) elegant simplicity of the Field's.
The audible noises too: the creak and groan and clatter of the rides; that strange ghostly murmur that permeated the air, the sound of a crowd of humans shouting and calling and living, with no humans to produce it; and the monotonously repetitive, insistent baseline of the fairground organ that permeated the soundscape.
All in all, this place was intensely irritating to the Faceless, and it wanted out. It gazed sightlessly at the mockingly welcome void beyond the park boundary; it knew that route held no promise of escape.
So the Faceless got thinking. It knew one of the seven had to die to effect a change in setting from the Observer. Therefore a quick kill was all that was needed. Vyrm'n found the conclusion so surprisingly simple, it would have laughed if it was capable. The Faceless' sentient mind started to come to the fore as it sorted out the logistics of killing. The sentient part of it unknowingly relished the opportunity. All this musing and ruminating was a far cry from the simpler times the Faceless had been through; where it was simply a matter of kill, kill, kill.
The Sunset was certainly out of the question, and Vyrm'n concluded by extension Samuel, who had bested the Balancer. Maxwell... the Faceless decided not to think too hard about that; justifying the alliance would only work against this cold logic it currently employed. Best to keep it a simple no, for convenience's sake.
That left... Galus, Gestalt, and Cabaret. Galus was still an unknown for the Faceless; even in its murderlust it was able to account for the possibility that the space marine may be keeping his most powerful abilities hidden. Gestalt... was a tough foe; to take it down in a world full of unsecured objects would expend a lot of the Faceless' strength, leaving it vulnerable in later battles.
That left Cabaret. The shadow already had hit (of sorts) out on the conjurer, and although this time he would not be as naive when Vyrm'n struck, without the schrotgolem and the professor to rescue him the remaining six could be out of this deafening matterscape without too much delay.
Vyrm'n took a deep breath in its head; or at least approximated the calming effect on its consciousness. To kill Cabaret... it set its logical faculties back in order. First, Vyrm'n needed to eliminate that last unwitting line of Cabaret's defences; Gestalt.
Extending its consciousness out again like a blip of sonar (several times before it was successful; on account of the awful background din) Vyrm'n located the fuzzy definition of space which the schrotgolem predominantly occupied. It appeared to be slowly dismantling a "Test Your Strength" booth, removing the bell, hammer, screws, and the tripwire that would electrocute you through the hammer if the little marker reached the top.
Vyrm'n took off again, as if on cue, with the doom drop carriage reaching its peak beneath Vyrm'n's seat and plummetting with a ghostly scream (or five) of terrified delight. It glided down the main thoroughfare until it slid to a halt a fair distance from Gestalt, but hopefully showing it could've tried striking the golem by flying all the way.
Gestalt made no indication of having noticed, not having a head to turn in surprise or a voice to exclaim; but several knives and other cutlery implements emerged from the boxes, hovering in front of Gestalt as it continued to methodically take apart the stand. A breadknife lunged forward, Vyrm'n let it sink into the darkness before grabbing it with a suddenness that left the long blade oscillating violently. Vyrm'n opened the connection but to its surprise was immediately halted with a rebuke from the golem.
I do not appreciate you cluttering up my thoughts, Faceless. Begone. The breadknife trembled violently in protest at its capture; Vyrm'n considered swallowing it but instead released it to its owner. Vyrm'n shuffled forward a few more metres, until they were about the same distance apart as when the two entities had stood off in the Labyrinth Field. Gestalt repeated, less audibly but more menacingly, begone. The Faceless stabbed the earth with its finger, clumsily carving out words. The schrotgolem paused its work for a moment, before tossing a pencil at the Faceless. Picking up the abandoned implement, Vyrm'n re-equipped it in the same manner as the knife, and continued to etch the soil (although it at least thought to use the blunt end.)
<I NEED TO KNOW WHY DID YOU ATTACK ME IN THE FIELD I WAS NOT HARMING YOUR ALLY>
Gestalt finally halted, carrying a mess of circuitry which had previously been hidden under the pad you were supposed to pummel with the hammer.
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