Re: The Grand Battle II! [Round 3: Escheresque!]
01-23-2010, 01:20 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.
The Faceless found the one window which was connected with the gallery hall. Halting for a moment in the now-deserted corridor, Vyrm'n listened this way and that, this time trying to recognise the waterfall instead of Maxwell. A circuitous path, less direct than Galus' but managing to obey the laws of non-4-dimensional space, presented itself. By exercising a little more concentration, a quicker, albeit more physics-warping, path sprung to Vyrm'n's mind. A headache, akin to trying to cross one's eyes for too long, swiftly discouraged Vyrm'n from this way of viewing the world. The shadow accelerated off again through the monochrome hallways, idly thinking that a near-absence of water was an interesting property for a world to have.
Vyrm'n knew full well that its musings on the Escherscape's distribution of water were a futile attempt at self-distraction - an oddly human concept, but the Faceless wasn't looking that far into it - yet. That black voice was none the Faceless had heard before, but it was not fear of the unknown that gave it it terrifying quality. No, the voice had invoked that sense of horrified fascination because it was the sound of that which should never have been given the ability to articulate.
It was pure malevolence; a resentful base hatred of everything and a desire to see it beaten, broken and scattered into nothing. It was the voice of the brick from the Labyrinth field, were it to exclaim its own thoughts as it carved Vyrm'n up.
It was the voice of a raging black sun.
-----
Earlier...
"We who serve are Master you Lutherion!"
The Sunset had arrived, after steady negotiation of the gravitationally schizoid terrain, and had been re-reading the note Vyrm'n had passed on when Dorukomets was suddenly thrown beside him from seemingly thin air. He rose from his kneeling position by Amethyst's carving and appraised the ghost knight. Though the arm fused with the Nightmare did not move from the Balancer's side, Dorukomets drew his sword at the whine. It audibility scrambled up the register, drowning out the sluggish slosh of water in the impossible fountain.
"Where who is are Master you Lutherion!"
"SILENCE." The violet pulse of the rifle illuminated the knight's face as it swung up to point at him. Dorukomets' expression fell from contorted confusion to outright fear at the sight of it, the ghost attempting to muffle the cries of the legion that fought their way from his mouth. The Sunset wasn't yet sure what to make of this development - it was probably a contestant, but then for Core's sake what was it doing here? The Balancer studied the note again, gun still trained on the interloper, carefully weighing the etymologies and sounds of the names. "DORUKOMETS." He ventured.
The knight glanced up, daring to open his mouth - "We yes? are How legion did and you serve-" before promptly shutting it as something in the Sunset's arm clicked ominously. A "yes" had definitely been in there. So why had this "Amethyst" put such an unassuming spirit at the top of her list of contestants?
"ANSWER MY QUESTIONS, DORUKOMETS, WITH A MINIMUM OF CHATTER AND I WILL NOT HARM YOU." The Sunset did not know why he felt a sense of time running out, but the persistent sensation was worming its way in, leaving the iron giant with no time for pleasantries.
Dorukomets did not respond. His eyes were flickering everywhere beneath his helm, like a thousand insistent souls demanded a different thing for the spirit to rest its attention on. The Balancer studied the mad ghost cautiously, noting how increasingly, his eyes were resting on something behind the byzantium behemoth. Leaving his gun trained on Dorukomets, he turned to look, his senses already informing him of what he dreaded most.
It wasn't the gears of this dimension that had started their unstoppable grind, but to a being like the Sunset the seismic signature of such a momentous movement was as clear as day. He could've spent most of his remaining time to latch onto the warping reality, but that intrinsic comprehension of the Balancer's internal clock told him that if somehow he bypassed the Observer's wards, he would only have time perhaps to relay what he knew to Amethyst. If he found her in time.
The Balancer could only stare out into what was emptiness on this plane, but on another housed what had been the Sunset's most promising ally in his most important battle of all. Behind him, the spirits of the Wightmaw Arm wailed through Dorukomets.
"MAAASTERRR LUUTHEEERIONN!"
The grinding ceased; though only the Sunset (and, perhaps, if she were paying attention, Vyrm'n) knew of it. Peppering the flagstones with machinegun fire, the Balancer vented his frustration. One round of ammo later, he felt perhaps a little more cool-headed, though in some ways the anger had been a pleasant substitute to the hopeless desolation engulfing the ancient being.
A wavering chuckle reached the Sunset, who swung to face Dorukomets. The ghost had a look of wide-eyed disbelief as he stared out into the now-nothing, but his mouth was twitching into a grin of jubliation.
"He's dead..."
The Faceless found the one window which was connected with the gallery hall. Halting for a moment in the now-deserted corridor, Vyrm'n listened this way and that, this time trying to recognise the waterfall instead of Maxwell. A circuitous path, less direct than Galus' but managing to obey the laws of non-4-dimensional space, presented itself. By exercising a little more concentration, a quicker, albeit more physics-warping, path sprung to Vyrm'n's mind. A headache, akin to trying to cross one's eyes for too long, swiftly discouraged Vyrm'n from this way of viewing the world. The shadow accelerated off again through the monochrome hallways, idly thinking that a near-absence of water was an interesting property for a world to have.
Vyrm'n knew full well that its musings on the Escherscape's distribution of water were a futile attempt at self-distraction - an oddly human concept, but the Faceless wasn't looking that far into it - yet. That black voice was none the Faceless had heard before, but it was not fear of the unknown that gave it it terrifying quality. No, the voice had invoked that sense of horrified fascination because it was the sound of that which should never have been given the ability to articulate.
It was pure malevolence; a resentful base hatred of everything and a desire to see it beaten, broken and scattered into nothing. It was the voice of the brick from the Labyrinth field, were it to exclaim its own thoughts as it carved Vyrm'n up.
It was the voice of a raging black sun.
-----
Earlier...
"We who serve are Master you Lutherion!"
The Sunset had arrived, after steady negotiation of the gravitationally schizoid terrain, and had been re-reading the note Vyrm'n had passed on when Dorukomets was suddenly thrown beside him from seemingly thin air. He rose from his kneeling position by Amethyst's carving and appraised the ghost knight. Though the arm fused with the Nightmare did not move from the Balancer's side, Dorukomets drew his sword at the whine. It audibility scrambled up the register, drowning out the sluggish slosh of water in the impossible fountain.
"Where who is are Master you Lutherion!"
"SILENCE." The violet pulse of the rifle illuminated the knight's face as it swung up to point at him. Dorukomets' expression fell from contorted confusion to outright fear at the sight of it, the ghost attempting to muffle the cries of the legion that fought their way from his mouth. The Sunset wasn't yet sure what to make of this development - it was probably a contestant, but then for Core's sake what was it doing here? The Balancer studied the note again, gun still trained on the interloper, carefully weighing the etymologies and sounds of the names. "DORUKOMETS." He ventured.
The knight glanced up, daring to open his mouth - "We yes? are How legion did and you serve-" before promptly shutting it as something in the Sunset's arm clicked ominously. A "yes" had definitely been in there. So why had this "Amethyst" put such an unassuming spirit at the top of her list of contestants?
"ANSWER MY QUESTIONS, DORUKOMETS, WITH A MINIMUM OF CHATTER AND I WILL NOT HARM YOU." The Sunset did not know why he felt a sense of time running out, but the persistent sensation was worming its way in, leaving the iron giant with no time for pleasantries.
Dorukomets did not respond. His eyes were flickering everywhere beneath his helm, like a thousand insistent souls demanded a different thing for the spirit to rest its attention on. The Balancer studied the mad ghost cautiously, noting how increasingly, his eyes were resting on something behind the byzantium behemoth. Leaving his gun trained on Dorukomets, he turned to look, his senses already informing him of what he dreaded most.
It wasn't the gears of this dimension that had started their unstoppable grind, but to a being like the Sunset the seismic signature of such a momentous movement was as clear as day. He could've spent most of his remaining time to latch onto the warping reality, but that intrinsic comprehension of the Balancer's internal clock told him that if somehow he bypassed the Observer's wards, he would only have time perhaps to relay what he knew to Amethyst. If he found her in time.
The Balancer could only stare out into what was emptiness on this plane, but on another housed what had been the Sunset's most promising ally in his most important battle of all. Behind him, the spirits of the Wightmaw Arm wailed through Dorukomets.
"MAAASTERRR LUUTHEEERIONN!"
The grinding ceased; though only the Sunset (and, perhaps, if she were paying attention, Vyrm'n) knew of it. Peppering the flagstones with machinegun fire, the Balancer vented his frustration. One round of ammo later, he felt perhaps a little more cool-headed, though in some ways the anger had been a pleasant substitute to the hopeless desolation engulfing the ancient being.
A wavering chuckle reached the Sunset, who swung to face Dorukomets. The ghost had a look of wide-eyed disbelief as he stared out into the now-nothing, but his mouth was twitching into a grin of jubliation.
"He's dead..."
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