Re: The Grand Battle II! [Round 3: Escheresque!]
12-21-2009, 09:24 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.
In a building in the waterfront that led into (and, the source of immeasurable confusion for Vyrm'n, was simultaneously overlooked by) the corridor in which Maxwell was presently being accosted, the Faceless continued to grapple with sensory information it was incapable of processing. It had no knowledge of the other contestants' sudden attentions being placed upon it, nor was the Faceless in any state to.
As it turned out, Escher's ability to mess with the mind was not confined to those with eyes. The way the Observer had built this world, when this corridor wasn't quite going to reach that doorway, conventional physics be damned. Heck, even an extra twelve feet of corridor to bridge the gap like a normal architect be damned. This architect had simply grabbed the two recalcitrant points, stretched reality to close the hole between them, and pinned the whole monstrosity down with great astral splines to cease its struggling as it fought to snap back to normality. Vyrm'n had never heard anything like it, and it was only now that it had finally ascertained the source of the warped warbling.
Admittedly, it had taken the Faceless at least ten minutes of flying through a recursive loop of a hallway before it had finally realised this; but now, like the sudden conscious realisation of a sanity-decimatingly insistent and irritating sound, the all-pervasive noise (and, indeed, this world was all one monstrous warping of space within itself within itself) had driven Vyrm'n to distraction - partly bewilderment, partly analytic contemplation, with more than an undertone of distress and frustration.
Then came the fear. It transcended the physical restrictions placed upon the Faceless within Escher's maze, and leapt straight from Maxwell to Vyrm'n. The raw emotion pierced through the Faceless with the same resistance it had found in solid rock and left the shadow shaken; but brutally refocussed on what was important. Its divine purpose restored in its mind, Vyrm'n wasted no more time selecting a direction and went crashing through the window. As if in immediate response to the Faceless' snap decision, Maxwell's resonance from down below strengthened; while the other impossibly possible routes offered by the warped physics of the Observer's world to reach the swordsman faded from Vyrm'n's vision like the dulling motes of dying universes...
And yet, the alien nature of the impulse made Vyrm'n slow mid-flight. That had come from Maxwell, without a doubt. But... this was different. Vyrm'n had, quite incontrovertibly, sensed Maxwell's emotions. The Faceless' senses should not have been capable of that, but, somehow...
Maxwell chanced a miniscule movement of his head as the faint sound of breaking glass was emitted from somewhere above. Galus, who had been standing warily, ready to fire or flee, made a much more noticeable reaction. Samuel caught the motion and checked it with a touch of pressure applied to Maxwell's neck by a sliver of green glass.
The resulting reflexive twitch of pain left Maxwell's throat peppered with innumerable splinters, and it took all of his self-control to avoid causing himself further injury. The shrapnel-scarf uncoiled a little, so breathing without harm was less of a challenge for the swordsman. Samuel sneered at Maxwell, arrogant self-confidence twisting his features into a self-indulgent grin.
"Will she be much longer, boy?" He asked it, knowing full well Maxwell probably had as much idea as Samuel did. Maxwell's shoulders twitched, as much as he could risk to confer a helpless shrug. Samuel gave a falsely exasperated sigh, still smirking as his fingers twitched through the air, as if grabbing at something invisible.
Maxwell had only a moment to wonder before he felt a nasty tickling sensation beneath his ribcage. Suddenly the deadly stranglehold was far less of a disincentive for the genius' breath to return in sharp, panicked gasps as Samuel tugged, with painful literalness, on Maxwell's heartstrings. The Karmist's grin was unceasing as Maxwell's discomfort increased. Poor Maxwell let loose a howl of agony as he thrashed about in a futile attempt to escape the pain, the ring of knives forgotten, flecks of blood showering the unmarred tiles.
Galus watched all this with little comprehension and a sense of horror, before he mercifully interrupted over Maxwell's screams.
"In- in that painting."
Galus pointed at the offending print, and indeed, on occasion a black shape could be seen darting ever closer and swifter through the alleys and over the roofs depicted in the waterfront scene. Samuel contemplated the odds of a ruse for a moment, before he finally released his grip on Maxwell's heart. He crossed the tile floor to stand before the painting in question as white bricks floated away from his blade arm. They quivered to a halt right in front of Maxwell's eyes, where they simply drifted; looming over the swordsman. Other than the quakes which wracked his frame, Maxwell was motionless.
Samuel, meanwhile, scrutinised the painting while Galus shuffled unchallenged towards the nearest exit. A moment later, Samuel had his head halfway through the canvas. He was frowning, looking downward and trying to ascertain whether in the world of the painting, there was anywhere behind the portal the Karmist presently gazed out of.
In the narrow gap between the arc of Samuel's back and the upper frame, Maxwell thought he saw something soar across the painted sky, but it was right out of the corner of his eye as Maxwell lacked the flexibility to set himself up for a better look. Samuel retracted his head, resting his hands on the bottom of the frame like a window, though the effect was ruined by his feet not touching the floor. Frowning pensively as he surveyed the deserted scene, and muttering, "Of course it's still around...", the Karmist turned to the sound of shattering glass as Vyrm'n smashed through the glass windows facing the picture wall, barreling into Samuel, swallowing him up in the roll, and cannoning back into the scene it had just left, Karmist in tow. A moment later, the schrotscarf uncoiled from Maxwell's neck and slithered after Samuel and Vyrm'n. Several moments after that, a marionette carrying an array of potentially lethal tools jogged up the corridor, and leapt through the painting/portal/window.
Maxwell and Galus remained, much as they had before Gestalt and Samuel's arrival. The only notable differences were Maxwell gingerly dabbing at the streaks of blood on his neck, and the copious amounts of shattered glass littering the corridor. Crunching his way across, Galus half-kneeled, partially concerned, partially wary of Maxwell.
"Are you all right?"
Maxwell's only reply was to smile wanly, jam his hat a little tighter on his head, and stand up as steadily as he could. He padded over to the painting Vyrm'n had charged through, but the Faceless' dark countenance did not mar the deceptively peaceful scene. Maxwell turned, to see Galus gazing out of the gaping hole, to the distant, floating islands, and the weak, violet sun.
"You don't suppose the Faceless would fly us over to those islands?" Maxwell ran another finger across his neck to check for any last cuts, then joined Galus at the remnants of the window. While he admired the view, within, Maxwell sighed.
And so the destruction begins anew...
Galus' words filtered through. Maxwell replied dismissively, "Oh no, Galus, can't you see? There's a barrier, much like the one in the Labyrinth field, I suppose... Here, allow me to show-" Maxwell started as Galus shoved him away. The pilot looked wary, Maxwell was merely nonplussed. Not sure what the problem was, Maxwell gave the Urisian his room and pointed outward.
"There... that... disruption, that has to be it. When you get a chance to take the whole thing in, it's quite extensive, really." Maxwell pointed it all out for Galus' benefit, but the Urisian still looked like Maxwell was speaking in tongues.
"What on Ceres am I supposed to be looking at? I can't see anything, Maxwell."
"But it's..." Maxwell checked again as Galus shook his head and took his leave, but as Maxwell focussed harder on what he'd seen it seemed to vanish. No swift disappearing act, just an increasing lack of visibility until Maxwell wasn't sure if he was looking at the real thing or just his memory of it.
This is the kind of thing, Maxwell, that Vyrm'n could see.
The genius could not argue with this statement, so he had to make do with ignoring it. Nervously placing his hand to confirm his heart was still beating while kicking glass out of the path, Maxwell wondered what to do next - to assist Vyrm'n or try and find safety. A precursory glance into the waterfront painting showed that Vyrm'n and Samuel had taken the fight off the main street, possibly into an alleyway or similar. He couldn't help but wish Vyrm'n would be a bit more... readable. Was she planning to take Samuel down on her own? And for that matter, what on earth could the Karmist possibly want with her?
Maxwell laid his hand over his heart again, biting his lip. From what the Karmist had said, Maxwell ascertained that Samuel's interest was in Vyrm'n, and whatever transaction was taking place had to occur in this round. Or did it? That would be mighty strange, unless this sterile world had a factor only Samuel could detect... Either way, the death of a contestant was presently not conducive to whatever nefarious schemes Samuel was dreaming up; which was an honest relief to Maxwell. At present, the genius was without enemies. The Sunset had no motive to kill him, nor did Galus or Vyrm'n. Judging by the actions of the marionette, and Samuel's actions... Gestalt had melded with the Karmist, which explained the one-sided discussions and the telekinesis.
If it were not for that last fact, Maxwell may have taken a moment to breathe a sigh of relief and relax. As it was, the ramifications of this new, alien foe had put the swordsman on edge. Maxwell still clutched at his heart as he stood awkwardly in the glass-strewn corridor, as though afraid it would be torn from him at any moment.
In a building in the waterfront that led into (and, the source of immeasurable confusion for Vyrm'n, was simultaneously overlooked by) the corridor in which Maxwell was presently being accosted, the Faceless continued to grapple with sensory information it was incapable of processing. It had no knowledge of the other contestants' sudden attentions being placed upon it, nor was the Faceless in any state to.
As it turned out, Escher's ability to mess with the mind was not confined to those with eyes. The way the Observer had built this world, when this corridor wasn't quite going to reach that doorway, conventional physics be damned. Heck, even an extra twelve feet of corridor to bridge the gap like a normal architect be damned. This architect had simply grabbed the two recalcitrant points, stretched reality to close the hole between them, and pinned the whole monstrosity down with great astral splines to cease its struggling as it fought to snap back to normality. Vyrm'n had never heard anything like it, and it was only now that it had finally ascertained the source of the warped warbling.
Admittedly, it had taken the Faceless at least ten minutes of flying through a recursive loop of a hallway before it had finally realised this; but now, like the sudden conscious realisation of a sanity-decimatingly insistent and irritating sound, the all-pervasive noise (and, indeed, this world was all one monstrous warping of space within itself within itself) had driven Vyrm'n to distraction - partly bewilderment, partly analytic contemplation, with more than an undertone of distress and frustration.
Then came the fear. It transcended the physical restrictions placed upon the Faceless within Escher's maze, and leapt straight from Maxwell to Vyrm'n. The raw emotion pierced through the Faceless with the same resistance it had found in solid rock and left the shadow shaken; but brutally refocussed on what was important. Its divine purpose restored in its mind, Vyrm'n wasted no more time selecting a direction and went crashing through the window. As if in immediate response to the Faceless' snap decision, Maxwell's resonance from down below strengthened; while the other impossibly possible routes offered by the warped physics of the Observer's world to reach the swordsman faded from Vyrm'n's vision like the dulling motes of dying universes...
And yet, the alien nature of the impulse made Vyrm'n slow mid-flight. That had come from Maxwell, without a doubt. But... this was different. Vyrm'n had, quite incontrovertibly, sensed Maxwell's emotions. The Faceless' senses should not have been capable of that, but, somehow...
Maxwell chanced a miniscule movement of his head as the faint sound of breaking glass was emitted from somewhere above. Galus, who had been standing warily, ready to fire or flee, made a much more noticeable reaction. Samuel caught the motion and checked it with a touch of pressure applied to Maxwell's neck by a sliver of green glass.
The resulting reflexive twitch of pain left Maxwell's throat peppered with innumerable splinters, and it took all of his self-control to avoid causing himself further injury. The shrapnel-scarf uncoiled a little, so breathing without harm was less of a challenge for the swordsman. Samuel sneered at Maxwell, arrogant self-confidence twisting his features into a self-indulgent grin.
"Will she be much longer, boy?" He asked it, knowing full well Maxwell probably had as much idea as Samuel did. Maxwell's shoulders twitched, as much as he could risk to confer a helpless shrug. Samuel gave a falsely exasperated sigh, still smirking as his fingers twitched through the air, as if grabbing at something invisible.
Maxwell had only a moment to wonder before he felt a nasty tickling sensation beneath his ribcage. Suddenly the deadly stranglehold was far less of a disincentive for the genius' breath to return in sharp, panicked gasps as Samuel tugged, with painful literalness, on Maxwell's heartstrings. The Karmist's grin was unceasing as Maxwell's discomfort increased. Poor Maxwell let loose a howl of agony as he thrashed about in a futile attempt to escape the pain, the ring of knives forgotten, flecks of blood showering the unmarred tiles.
Galus watched all this with little comprehension and a sense of horror, before he mercifully interrupted over Maxwell's screams.
"In- in that painting."
Galus pointed at the offending print, and indeed, on occasion a black shape could be seen darting ever closer and swifter through the alleys and over the roofs depicted in the waterfront scene. Samuel contemplated the odds of a ruse for a moment, before he finally released his grip on Maxwell's heart. He crossed the tile floor to stand before the painting in question as white bricks floated away from his blade arm. They quivered to a halt right in front of Maxwell's eyes, where they simply drifted; looming over the swordsman. Other than the quakes which wracked his frame, Maxwell was motionless.
Samuel, meanwhile, scrutinised the painting while Galus shuffled unchallenged towards the nearest exit. A moment later, Samuel had his head halfway through the canvas. He was frowning, looking downward and trying to ascertain whether in the world of the painting, there was anywhere behind the portal the Karmist presently gazed out of.
In the narrow gap between the arc of Samuel's back and the upper frame, Maxwell thought he saw something soar across the painted sky, but it was right out of the corner of his eye as Maxwell lacked the flexibility to set himself up for a better look. Samuel retracted his head, resting his hands on the bottom of the frame like a window, though the effect was ruined by his feet not touching the floor. Frowning pensively as he surveyed the deserted scene, and muttering, "Of course it's still around...", the Karmist turned to the sound of shattering glass as Vyrm'n smashed through the glass windows facing the picture wall, barreling into Samuel, swallowing him up in the roll, and cannoning back into the scene it had just left, Karmist in tow. A moment later, the schrotscarf uncoiled from Maxwell's neck and slithered after Samuel and Vyrm'n. Several moments after that, a marionette carrying an array of potentially lethal tools jogged up the corridor, and leapt through the painting/portal/window.
Maxwell and Galus remained, much as they had before Gestalt and Samuel's arrival. The only notable differences were Maxwell gingerly dabbing at the streaks of blood on his neck, and the copious amounts of shattered glass littering the corridor. Crunching his way across, Galus half-kneeled, partially concerned, partially wary of Maxwell.
"Are you all right?"
Maxwell's only reply was to smile wanly, jam his hat a little tighter on his head, and stand up as steadily as he could. He padded over to the painting Vyrm'n had charged through, but the Faceless' dark countenance did not mar the deceptively peaceful scene. Maxwell turned, to see Galus gazing out of the gaping hole, to the distant, floating islands, and the weak, violet sun.
"You don't suppose the Faceless would fly us over to those islands?" Maxwell ran another finger across his neck to check for any last cuts, then joined Galus at the remnants of the window. While he admired the view, within, Maxwell sighed.
And so the destruction begins anew...
Galus' words filtered through. Maxwell replied dismissively, "Oh no, Galus, can't you see? There's a barrier, much like the one in the Labyrinth field, I suppose... Here, allow me to show-" Maxwell started as Galus shoved him away. The pilot looked wary, Maxwell was merely nonplussed. Not sure what the problem was, Maxwell gave the Urisian his room and pointed outward.
"There... that... disruption, that has to be it. When you get a chance to take the whole thing in, it's quite extensive, really." Maxwell pointed it all out for Galus' benefit, but the Urisian still looked like Maxwell was speaking in tongues.
"What on Ceres am I supposed to be looking at? I can't see anything, Maxwell."
"But it's..." Maxwell checked again as Galus shook his head and took his leave, but as Maxwell focussed harder on what he'd seen it seemed to vanish. No swift disappearing act, just an increasing lack of visibility until Maxwell wasn't sure if he was looking at the real thing or just his memory of it.
This is the kind of thing, Maxwell, that Vyrm'n could see.
The genius could not argue with this statement, so he had to make do with ignoring it. Nervously placing his hand to confirm his heart was still beating while kicking glass out of the path, Maxwell wondered what to do next - to assist Vyrm'n or try and find safety. A precursory glance into the waterfront painting showed that Vyrm'n and Samuel had taken the fight off the main street, possibly into an alleyway or similar. He couldn't help but wish Vyrm'n would be a bit more... readable. Was she planning to take Samuel down on her own? And for that matter, what on earth could the Karmist possibly want with her?
Maxwell laid his hand over his heart again, biting his lip. From what the Karmist had said, Maxwell ascertained that Samuel's interest was in Vyrm'n, and whatever transaction was taking place had to occur in this round. Or did it? That would be mighty strange, unless this sterile world had a factor only Samuel could detect... Either way, the death of a contestant was presently not conducive to whatever nefarious schemes Samuel was dreaming up; which was an honest relief to Maxwell. At present, the genius was without enemies. The Sunset had no motive to kill him, nor did Galus or Vyrm'n. Judging by the actions of the marionette, and Samuel's actions... Gestalt had melded with the Karmist, which explained the one-sided discussions and the telekinesis.
If it were not for that last fact, Maxwell may have taken a moment to breathe a sigh of relief and relax. As it was, the ramifications of this new, alien foe had put the swordsman on edge. Maxwell still clutched at his heart as he stood awkwardly in the glass-strewn corridor, as though afraid it would be torn from him at any moment.
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