Re: The Grand Battle II! [Round 3: Escheresque!]
11-01-2009, 07:10 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Sruixan.
Without him really knowing, Maxwell's feet were enjoying a little dance with the animals immortalised in the tiled dome, while he himself was sat at its edge, deep in thought. Being carefree was a luxury the concious part of him didn't have.
Why had Cabaret given the mask to him? It was worryingly like the magician had been prefiguring his own demise, as if he'd known he wouldn't make it... it was a similar pessimism to the one that had Maxwell's stomach in knots at that very moment and that was a bit too much.
It didn't take too much thought to realise that the human competitors here were at a severe disadvantage to their slightly more abstract foes. For a start, Maxwell noted, whereas Vyrm'n and Gestalt were more like the playthings of an active imagination and thusly able to do things he couldn't rationally explain, he was stuck with his mind, his feet, his rapier and... the lump. Call it a lump, hiding under his coat. He didn't want to have to shoot anyone, with one exception and right now was not the time.
Secondly, now that he'd thought about his stomach, acknowledged its existance, it had a few bones to pick with him, mostly his spine and his ribcage to be exact. Time wasn't something overly easy to measure when you're darting from universe to universe, but it must have been about four hours or so since he'd been home. He could be over or underestimating, but still, sooner or later he was going to have to eat, drink, sleep (well, he'd had a nap earlier, but that didn't really count) and excrete (something he had admittedly already done, but that of course wouldn't be the last time!).
Galus Lee Matthews... now, he wasn't quite human, but he was pretty close. Samuel, well, he was really on the wrong side of human and was probably capable of sustaining himself with the lives of others. But what living organisms would there be in a world that had fun figuring out where the floor was? With two humanoids (now that's much better, isn't it?) down, well...
Two humanoids down... two opportunities squandered. He should have asked Cabaret when he'd given him the mask, but, well, he hadn't exactly been expecting it, had he? Paying attention when your mind wanders... but...
The subconcious is an odd little devil. Too smug to show off its prowess to the concious mind, it just pops in occasionally to poke you in the direction it wants you to go in, making sure to point out how it's a few steps ahead of you and then vanishing back to whence it came. Maxwell's was more than happy to point out at that moment that he had in fact looked up as the mask was thrust into his hands had he had indeed seen that Cabaret was carrying a few other wordly possessions, but had been too preoccupied with figuring out what on earth was happening to take too much notice. Well, his concious had been anyway. And in those slightly shaky hands, there was something that was eeirily familiar. A little tattered book...
After a brief pause for his body to regroup, Maxwell stood up. He had to find Galus pretty sharpish. As the only other approachable humanoid, he could do with being grilled as soon as possible...
Why had Cabaret given the mask to him? It was worryingly like the magician had been prefiguring his own demise, as if he'd known he wouldn't make it... it was a similar pessimism to the one that had Maxwell's stomach in knots at that very moment and that was a bit too much.
It didn't take too much thought to realise that the human competitors here were at a severe disadvantage to their slightly more abstract foes. For a start, Maxwell noted, whereas Vyrm'n and Gestalt were more like the playthings of an active imagination and thusly able to do things he couldn't rationally explain, he was stuck with his mind, his feet, his rapier and... the lump. Call it a lump, hiding under his coat. He didn't want to have to shoot anyone, with one exception and right now was not the time.
Secondly, now that he'd thought about his stomach, acknowledged its existance, it had a few bones to pick with him, mostly his spine and his ribcage to be exact. Time wasn't something overly easy to measure when you're darting from universe to universe, but it must have been about four hours or so since he'd been home. He could be over or underestimating, but still, sooner or later he was going to have to eat, drink, sleep (well, he'd had a nap earlier, but that didn't really count) and excrete (something he had admittedly already done, but that of course wouldn't be the last time!).
Galus Lee Matthews... now, he wasn't quite human, but he was pretty close. Samuel, well, he was really on the wrong side of human and was probably capable of sustaining himself with the lives of others. But what living organisms would there be in a world that had fun figuring out where the floor was? With two humanoids (now that's much better, isn't it?) down, well...
Two humanoids down... two opportunities squandered. He should have asked Cabaret when he'd given him the mask, but, well, he hadn't exactly been expecting it, had he? Paying attention when your mind wanders... but...
The subconcious is an odd little devil. Too smug to show off its prowess to the concious mind, it just pops in occasionally to poke you in the direction it wants you to go in, making sure to point out how it's a few steps ahead of you and then vanishing back to whence it came. Maxwell's was more than happy to point out at that moment that he had in fact looked up as the mask was thrust into his hands had he had indeed seen that Cabaret was carrying a few other wordly possessions, but had been too preoccupied with figuring out what on earth was happening to take too much notice. Well, his concious had been anyway. And in those slightly shaky hands, there was something that was eeirily familiar. A little tattered book...
After a brief pause for his body to regroup, Maxwell stood up. He had to find Galus pretty sharpish. As the only other approachable humanoid, he could do with being grilled as soon as possible...