Re: The Grand Battle II! [Round 3: Escheresque!]
12-13-2009, 10:14 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.
The Faceless glided through a hallway whose vaulted arches gave the chamber an almost skeletal appearance, like Vyrm'n was the inky breath which rushed beneath the ribcage of beams. As it crossed beneath the last arch, Vyrm'n's swift flight halted with a gasping judder as it detected a warping of reality almost too subtle for it to sense. Perhaps it would've been easier; for one with eyes, and other such senses; to resignedly accept if space had been warped, so a series of passages that technically were intermeshing each other, could still function as normal discrete corridors. To a beast like Vyrm'n, the simple proof of having been there and seeing the corridors not colliding into each other should have been proof enough to let it suspend reality.
Complicating Vyrm'n's ability to let such anomalies go was Maxwell. He was a (presumably stationary) point of reference that Vyrm'n had been doggedly aiming for, and as such the Faceless had been following the now-distinctive song of his soul as it flowed through the Escherscape. As such, Vyrm'n had chosen this vaulted hallway as the other end was closer to Maxwell than the end it had started. And yet, as the corridor exhaled Vyrm'n, the first thing it felt was that Maxwell had somehow, in defiance of common sense, had suddenly become much further away. Even worse, Vyrm'n felt another consciousness sing out to the pulse of receptivity it struck out. Samuel and Gestalt. While the Faceless had travelled fruitlessly in circles, the murderous pair had steadily made their approach.
Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit, Vyrm'n thought, quivering. It spent only the briefest of moments determining the nature of the anomaly, before taking two lefts and doubling back in Maxwell's direction. The Faceless reduced another door to splinters as it slipped through a courtyard into a new building. Vyrm'n listened again, and would've screamed with frustration if it could've. Maxwell's song now came crying back from two different points, each point given the backing vocals of Galus' aural declaration. The Faceless turned first towards the window, then to the street, agonising - both seemed right, and yet, because of this rightness in blatant disregard of the other, they were both so terribly, paradoxically wrong.
The Faceless could've simply chosen a direction and stuck with it, but the twistedness of the whole situation had finally come crashing down on Vyrm'n, in a panic which choked the breathless creature and left it rooted to the spot in bewilderment.
I'm not going to make it.
The Faceless glided through a hallway whose vaulted arches gave the chamber an almost skeletal appearance, like Vyrm'n was the inky breath which rushed beneath the ribcage of beams. As it crossed beneath the last arch, Vyrm'n's swift flight halted with a gasping judder as it detected a warping of reality almost too subtle for it to sense. Perhaps it would've been easier; for one with eyes, and other such senses; to resignedly accept if space had been warped, so a series of passages that technically were intermeshing each other, could still function as normal discrete corridors. To a beast like Vyrm'n, the simple proof of having been there and seeing the corridors not colliding into each other should have been proof enough to let it suspend reality.
Complicating Vyrm'n's ability to let such anomalies go was Maxwell. He was a (presumably stationary) point of reference that Vyrm'n had been doggedly aiming for, and as such the Faceless had been following the now-distinctive song of his soul as it flowed through the Escherscape. As such, Vyrm'n had chosen this vaulted hallway as the other end was closer to Maxwell than the end it had started. And yet, as the corridor exhaled Vyrm'n, the first thing it felt was that Maxwell had somehow, in defiance of common sense, had suddenly become much further away. Even worse, Vyrm'n felt another consciousness sing out to the pulse of receptivity it struck out. Samuel and Gestalt. While the Faceless had travelled fruitlessly in circles, the murderous pair had steadily made their approach.
Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit, Vyrm'n thought, quivering. It spent only the briefest of moments determining the nature of the anomaly, before taking two lefts and doubling back in Maxwell's direction. The Faceless reduced another door to splinters as it slipped through a courtyard into a new building. Vyrm'n listened again, and would've screamed with frustration if it could've. Maxwell's song now came crying back from two different points, each point given the backing vocals of Galus' aural declaration. The Faceless turned first towards the window, then to the street, agonising - both seemed right, and yet, because of this rightness in blatant disregard of the other, they were both so terribly, paradoxically wrong.
The Faceless could've simply chosen a direction and stuck with it, but the twistedness of the whole situation had finally come crashing down on Vyrm'n, in a panic which choked the breathless creature and left it rooted to the spot in bewilderment.
I'm not going to make it.
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