Re: The Grand Battle II! [Round 3: Escheresque!]
02-07-2010, 06:19 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.
Maxwell stood, transfixed by the angry glow streaming from the Nightmare. He knew every seemingly insignificantly small moment he spent contemplating left his survival that much more uncertain, but somehow he was incapable of making a decision either way. There was a deceptively quiet click as the coilgun completed its recharging. The tiny sound pierced through the man's paralysis, and he took one tentative step towards Galus ' prone form, before he turned to sprint for the nearest cover. This moment of indecision cost Maxwell, as the hum ceased just as he spun round to flee.
The blast burnt with supernovae heat upon Maxwell's face as the Nightmare beam rushed towards him in an all-immolating purple wave - and then surged onward beside him. Fearful eyes illuminated violet as Maxwell stared at the stream of energy rushing and crackling by. Its radius was such that it knocked him aside; a direction the man was only too keen to travel in to escape the blazing byzantium . When the last trails of the Nightmare blast had dissipated into the air, a shaking Maxwell dared to look toward The Sunset. The tortured entity hadn't missed deliberately - something had forcibly stayed its hand.
A huge, monstrous claw, composed of scattered fragments of stone and ceramic and grit and glass, had seized the Balancer's Nightmare and dragged it aside as it had fired. Maxwell knew that cruel grip of the twisted web of shrapnel which constricted about the gun. Even as he watched, more shards of stone rose from the ground and joined the jagged appendage. A hefty gulp forced its way down the genius' throat as some- something at the other end of the piecemeal arm started up a warped, inhuman cackle.
"eehhehehehehehehAHAHAHAHAHA... Oh This is SOOO RICH... soOOo FAntAsTIC..."
Behind the stunned Balancer, Samuel Therion stood limp, shoulders hunched, head snapped upright. His typically snide grin was now stretched to maniacal proportions. Gleaming white teeth contrasted sharply with hyper-dilated pupils. His entire body shook with unbridled laughter, causing the bits of tile, glass, and stone which composed his shrapnel-arm to clatter with shuddering, percussive breath. The Sunset took quick notice of Samuel's intrusion and whipped around, spraying a flurry of machine gun rounds in the Karmist's direction. Samuel's arm lifted himself above the assault and into the air. The maddened Balancer's aim followed accordingly; however, the massive arm continued jerking the Karmist about while a stream of rapid incoherence flew from his warped grin.
"Looks like something's got your goat. Several somethings. One, two, three, thousand, lives? ex-lives? ex-wives? I had those once, she was delectable! Good Material. Died in birth, such a shame. Felt good though. REALLY GOOD. Just like you! You're such a sweetheart, really! Helped me out of a huge jam. Mmmm jam. Red and pulpy and delicious. I knew a chef once, good cook, Wanted a recipe his son would make. I helped him out. Killed the boy; gave the man his gift. Sucker cries and drowned himself. So I got both. Wanna hear the recipe? Here it goes: Thousands of lives, stuck in a tin can, peel the lid off and help yourself!ssOOOootasty ehehehehehehahahHAHAHA"
The Karmic forces Samuel had released upon his mind rushed though his cortex, inducing a hyper-euphoria within the Karmist. The memories of death and destruction which had earlier tormented his fragile mind now fuelled a fervent desire to kill. Sanity, within this inferno of killing intent, had no means of standing ground and gave way to the deathlust. A need to survive, a need to kill, directed the Karmist's movements under the overarching theme of: "death brings pleasure. Bring forth death."
The familiar click and hair-raising hyperelectric crackle of the Nightmare preceded The Sunset's retaliation. The twisted coil which grappled the Balancer's weapon shattered into innumerable fragments of liquid hot shrapnel as they were caught in the purple storm. Samuel was tossed aside by the explosion, the bulk of material still attached to his flesh launching chains of grit at the ground to anchor the Karmist's descent. Samuel crouched, his right arm an ever-growing mass of debris, his voice a relentless crazed cackle, his face an jagged grin with wide black eyes. At this sight, the spirits within The Sunset raged against the shell of the Balancer and, in unison, called for their foe's destruction.
Maxwell stared agape at the unfolding scene for only a few moments, before seizing the Balancer's distraction to drag Galus out of immediate danger. As the man in the greatcoat carried the Urisian round the other side of the pillar, he was groggy, but responsive. Maxwell fumbled with the helmet for a few moments before finding a switch to flick the visor up. Though he had never had any formal training in first aid, Maxwell figured Galus was going to survive. Glancing back up the cliff, Maxwell spotted the sinuous black smudge that was Vyrm'n . She rushed toward the pair, weaving close to the cliff face, lowering her profile to avoid The Sunset's attention. The Faceless slid to a halt in front of them. Lifting Galus by one arm onto his shoulder, Maxwell made his ungainly way to the waiting Vyrm'n. A black pseudopod snaked out and wrapped itself round Maxwell's free hand.
-Maxwell hurry you need to be safe-At this point, the Faceless spasmed in pain, its already less-than-pointed thoughts scattering into a nebulous stream-of-consciousness.
"...V-Vyrm'n?" the torrent of thought realized Maxwell was watching, and snapped shut for a moment before a singular thread manifested. Even then, the background static, more audible than Maxwell had ever heard it, belied the Faceless' near-complete exhaustion. Dismissing whatever query he had with a mental flick,Vyrm'n acquiesced after a moment to taking Galus with them. The black grip on his arm tightened, and pulled him on before slithering into the nearest window.
Now with a comforting amount of rock between them and the surreal fight that had just started, Maxwell tried to tend to Galus. "I'm fine," the Urisian interjected, waving him off and walking unsteadily to a wall he could sit against. Shrugging a little helplessly, the man looked to Vyrm'n , who had turned spherical in the dead centre of the room. The Faceless was still trembling a little, making the stars on the celestial globe jitter as they drifted along. He reached out, but the Faceless twitched away and began moving again to block out Maxwell's view of the door.
One nondescript cardboard box, then another, slid into the room. The first halted as Gestalt realised Vyrm'n was in this room, making the following boxes bump into each other with the muffled rattle of whatever was inside. The orb narrowed into a rough, semi-fluid column and confronted the schrotgolem . A cautiously tense exchange commenced between the pair; the details of which were lost on Maxwell, though even he could feel the mutual wariness of one being toward the other. The tension left an almost electric quality in the air, or perhaps that was Gestalt's probing consciousness before it was tersely curtailed by Vyrm'n . Finally, an agreement was reached and the Faceless slid aside, letting the convoy shuffle past and tumble out the window. Maxwell stood helplessly, glancing between a tensely alert Galus who just realised he was weaponless, and the still-trembling Faceless.
He tentatively placed a hand upon the shadow; an oddly human gesture of comfort. There was a pause before the link was established as it idlyoccurred to Maxwell it was always Vyrm'n that reached out to him - never the other way round. Beneath the silent, starry exterior, a torrent of thought rushed invisibly by. The Faceless' consciousness was broodingly wrapped up in these musings against the pain, and didn't seem to notice Maxwell watching. The bulk of it was swiftly processed and discarded sensory input, but a few notable pieces warranted a second, third, or consequent glances by Vyrm'n . Enmeshed within this neural storm of input was also the shadow's own thoughts; intermittent insights which punctuated the mess of perceived existence. In a way, it was kind of like looking at the world through Vyrm'n's vision again, if far less coherent. Still, the parallel let Maxwell perceive what another may have not; and that was the Faceless' intense focus upon the fight, and more disconcertingly to the human, an emotion that had somehow seemed foreign to that distant, detatchedly metacognitive being.
Vyrm'n was excited. Every drop of blood, every flesh-rending bullet, every infinitesimal tick of a lifetime counting down triggered an emotional response it had never before known it possessed. As the combatants tore themselves apart, the Faceless watched with a grin only Maxwell could detect. The euphoria was like a haze over Vyrm'n's mind, Maxwell floundering through it in his haste to leave. Returning to his own headspace again, the man removed his hand. The starscape did not move, still sightlessly staring towards Samuel and The Sunset; while Maxwell backed off and slumped against the ceiling which postured presently as their wall.
Two mad souls stood off on the edge of the Escherscape. From one, a soft guttural laugh reflected a man drowning within a twisted euphoria. From the other, the ceaseless grinding of soul on machine emanated from a blinding pool of noise, rage, and confusion. The pause lasted only an instant. The horde of spirits within The Sunset channelled their combined fury into the barrel of The Nightmare. As the pitch of the weapon rose, so did the wailing of the Balancer . The cosmic entity, tormented by the incessant cries of countless undead, weary from the unearthly strain on his essence, mustered the last remnants of his eroding sanity behind the very principle which had defined his existence.
"SAMUEL luTHERION! YOU HAVE GROWN TOO POWERFUL. YOU WILL BE DESTROYED."
With that proclamation, the Balancer fired The Nightmare. The blinding judgement bolt scorched the broken mosaic of the courtyard as it hurled toward the chuckling Karmist.
Samuel stared at the oncoming beam, its bright violet glare burning the image into his unprotected retinas. He basked in the ever widening shadow of the oncoming death. Then, in the moment before the titanic attack contacted its target, Samuel flung himself in the air once more, half of his constantly compounding shrapnel arm vaporizing in the blast. The airborne arm launched forth chains of serrated stone and glass, piercing and constricting about The Sunset's armored exoskeleton. The spirits cried out against the intrusions and, as with Galus moments prior, flooded the ragged lances with their howling substance. Their connection to the Karmist disrupted, the pieces of the piercing shrapnel fell lifelessly to the floor. Relentlessly, Samuel fired dozens more of the coiling snares which continued to wrap about The Sunsets' frame.
The struggling Balancer retaliated against Samuel with a barrage of machine-gun bullets. The shrapnel arm refused to release The Sunset, flinging Samuel around; but the Karmist was peppered with slugs all the same. The projectiles sizzled as they rent the Karmist's flesh. A sudden, hacking cough interrupted the incessant cackling, spattering bloody stains. As the sanguine fluid trickled from the corners of the wry grin, a putrid stench poured from the freshly made wounds. Without hesitation, The Sunset repeated his assault. The crepitating machine gun glowed an ember red as rapid shots burned into the airborne Karmist . This time there was no attempt at evasion. The impacts of hundreds of metal fragments sent Samuel's body into a convulsive fit. The Karmist relished every shot, every shredded organ, every broken bone. Each damaging blast brought him that much closer to the sensation of death - the all consuming absolute, which the Karmic forces unleashed within his psyche proclaimed as the source of all joy and pleasure.
The horrendous odor which emanated from every wound on the Karmist engulfed his body and the monstrous arm. For a moment, the weaponized attack of The Sunset halted as the Balancer's hulking machinery worked to reload the smoking firearm. In that instant, no longer absorbed in the progression of his own demise, Samuel lunged at the Balancer . A dozen more shrapnel spikes, filled with the Karmic potential channelled from Samuel's own near-death, penetrated The Sunset's armor. The spirits screamed like a knife on dry ice, the keening shriek resounding through the entire dimension. Once again they sought to flood against the intruder; however, the death-Karma saturating the ceramic spears diverted the spirits' energies, severing the life threads which bound those undead unfortunate enough to run against Karma's flow.
A grinding, heavily mechanical bass joined the chorus as The Sunset's repair function was initiated. The Balancer's internal counter spiralled wildly downward as Samuel the undead essence, rebuilding the Karmist's mangled form instead of the intended burnt-out machine-gun components. His vital organs replaced as the machinegun ceased smoking, Samuel was tossed out of the way this time somewhat to avoid the worst of the barrage. This insane exchange continued for a few more rounds of destroy and repair, until even through his mad fury The Sunset realised something was amiss. Swinging a hefty, gun-toting arm around, the Balancer finally dislodged the mad Karmist. Samuel made no attempt to break his fall, and lay there for a few moments, sniggering at something. A train of cardboard boxes snaked its way to line up behind the broken man.
"Nice of you to join us... heheheh... Gestalt." The golem made no reply.
The schrotarm bucked and tossed the Karmist back into the air, picking up more pieces of debris as it lunged at The Sunset again. A lid snapped open, and Gestalt joined the fray with a swarm of shrapnel. It lacked the precision it possessed when confronting Vyrm'n, but nonetheless found its target, digging away at the joints and coils in the suit. The Balancer was conflicted; the terrified servitude of the legion compounded with The Sunset's fundamental principles insisted Samuel be eliminated - yet the schrotgolem was doing a more efficient job at attacking the ancient being. The Karmist's jagged arm leapt for the helm of the Balancer , stone-and-glass claws seeking to tear it right off; the violet-bathed Nightmare arm parried it even as it charged up, and flung Samuel aside again. The coilgun arced through the air, following the madman, then, unexpectedly, stopped.
The grating creak of straining metal overcame the hum of the charged arm as The Balancer's machinery struggled to move it once more. Slowly, though, the paralysis spread from the Nightmare to The Sunset's other appendages. Steadily, the schrotgolem integrated the extremities of the Balancer . Machine gun bullets fired frantically, futilely in hopes of breaking Gestalt's hold. The weary, cluttered, mind of The Sunset, however, was not nearly strong enough to resist the schrotgolem's grasp. Frozen in place, the paralytic Balancer watched helplessly as the grinning Karmist approached. The shrapnel arm broke into dozens of writhing serrated chains, infused with the manic pursuit of death which coursed through Samuel, before they ensnared and chased out the legion even as it clung desperately to the vestiges of the Balancer's fragmented being. The final cries of countless souls reverberated throughout the Escherscape, dragged into the abyss.
For a being that endured the indignity of still-death to stave off the horrific finality of the true one, The Sunset showed no fear even as weaker souls quailed into nothing around him in the face of the void. They screamed for salvation; from Lutherion, Dorukomets, the Balancer itself. Clarity returned to The Sunset as the spirits were torn away, gifted him the most precious of moments to reflect.
He had regrets, certainly; but now they seemed immaterial, positively trivial, even. The final violet fragments of Judgement of his universe, fallen but no less noble, glowed - nay, roared in brief yet glorious defiance against the nothingness before they were snuffed out in a chill, rattling smirk of a breath.
Maxwell stood, transfixed by the angry glow streaming from the Nightmare. He knew every seemingly insignificantly small moment he spent contemplating left his survival that much more uncertain, but somehow he was incapable of making a decision either way. There was a deceptively quiet click as the coilgun completed its recharging. The tiny sound pierced through the man's paralysis, and he took one tentative step towards Galus ' prone form, before he turned to sprint for the nearest cover. This moment of indecision cost Maxwell, as the hum ceased just as he spun round to flee.
The blast burnt with supernovae heat upon Maxwell's face as the Nightmare beam rushed towards him in an all-immolating purple wave - and then surged onward beside him. Fearful eyes illuminated violet as Maxwell stared at the stream of energy rushing and crackling by. Its radius was such that it knocked him aside; a direction the man was only too keen to travel in to escape the blazing byzantium . When the last trails of the Nightmare blast had dissipated into the air, a shaking Maxwell dared to look toward The Sunset. The tortured entity hadn't missed deliberately - something had forcibly stayed its hand.
A huge, monstrous claw, composed of scattered fragments of stone and ceramic and grit and glass, had seized the Balancer's Nightmare and dragged it aside as it had fired. Maxwell knew that cruel grip of the twisted web of shrapnel which constricted about the gun. Even as he watched, more shards of stone rose from the ground and joined the jagged appendage. A hefty gulp forced its way down the genius' throat as some- something at the other end of the piecemeal arm started up a warped, inhuman cackle.
"eehhehehehehehehAHAHAHAHAHA... Oh This is SOOO RICH... soOOo FAntAsTIC..."
Behind the stunned Balancer, Samuel Therion stood limp, shoulders hunched, head snapped upright. His typically snide grin was now stretched to maniacal proportions. Gleaming white teeth contrasted sharply with hyper-dilated pupils. His entire body shook with unbridled laughter, causing the bits of tile, glass, and stone which composed his shrapnel-arm to clatter with shuddering, percussive breath. The Sunset took quick notice of Samuel's intrusion and whipped around, spraying a flurry of machine gun rounds in the Karmist's direction. Samuel's arm lifted himself above the assault and into the air. The maddened Balancer's aim followed accordingly; however, the massive arm continued jerking the Karmist about while a stream of rapid incoherence flew from his warped grin.
"Looks like something's got your goat. Several somethings. One, two, three, thousand, lives? ex-lives? ex-wives? I had those once, she was delectable! Good Material. Died in birth, such a shame. Felt good though. REALLY GOOD. Just like you! You're such a sweetheart, really! Helped me out of a huge jam. Mmmm jam. Red and pulpy and delicious. I knew a chef once, good cook, Wanted a recipe his son would make. I helped him out. Killed the boy; gave the man his gift. Sucker cries and drowned himself. So I got both. Wanna hear the recipe? Here it goes: Thousands of lives, stuck in a tin can, peel the lid off and help yourself!ssOOOootasty ehehehehehehahahHAHAHA"
The Karmic forces Samuel had released upon his mind rushed though his cortex, inducing a hyper-euphoria within the Karmist. The memories of death and destruction which had earlier tormented his fragile mind now fuelled a fervent desire to kill. Sanity, within this inferno of killing intent, had no means of standing ground and gave way to the deathlust. A need to survive, a need to kill, directed the Karmist's movements under the overarching theme of: "death brings pleasure. Bring forth death."
The familiar click and hair-raising hyperelectric crackle of the Nightmare preceded The Sunset's retaliation. The twisted coil which grappled the Balancer's weapon shattered into innumerable fragments of liquid hot shrapnel as they were caught in the purple storm. Samuel was tossed aside by the explosion, the bulk of material still attached to his flesh launching chains of grit at the ground to anchor the Karmist's descent. Samuel crouched, his right arm an ever-growing mass of debris, his voice a relentless crazed cackle, his face an jagged grin with wide black eyes. At this sight, the spirits within The Sunset raged against the shell of the Balancer and, in unison, called for their foe's destruction.
Maxwell stared agape at the unfolding scene for only a few moments, before seizing the Balancer's distraction to drag Galus out of immediate danger. As the man in the greatcoat carried the Urisian round the other side of the pillar, he was groggy, but responsive. Maxwell fumbled with the helmet for a few moments before finding a switch to flick the visor up. Though he had never had any formal training in first aid, Maxwell figured Galus was going to survive. Glancing back up the cliff, Maxwell spotted the sinuous black smudge that was Vyrm'n . She rushed toward the pair, weaving close to the cliff face, lowering her profile to avoid The Sunset's attention. The Faceless slid to a halt in front of them. Lifting Galus by one arm onto his shoulder, Maxwell made his ungainly way to the waiting Vyrm'n. A black pseudopod snaked out and wrapped itself round Maxwell's free hand.
-Maxwell hurry you need to be safe-At this point, the Faceless spasmed in pain, its already less-than-pointed thoughts scattering into a nebulous stream-of-consciousness.
"...V-Vyrm'n?" the torrent of thought realized Maxwell was watching, and snapped shut for a moment before a singular thread manifested. Even then, the background static, more audible than Maxwell had ever heard it, belied the Faceless' near-complete exhaustion. Dismissing whatever query he had with a mental flick,Vyrm'n acquiesced after a moment to taking Galus with them. The black grip on his arm tightened, and pulled him on before slithering into the nearest window.
Now with a comforting amount of rock between them and the surreal fight that had just started, Maxwell tried to tend to Galus. "I'm fine," the Urisian interjected, waving him off and walking unsteadily to a wall he could sit against. Shrugging a little helplessly, the man looked to Vyrm'n , who had turned spherical in the dead centre of the room. The Faceless was still trembling a little, making the stars on the celestial globe jitter as they drifted along. He reached out, but the Faceless twitched away and began moving again to block out Maxwell's view of the door.
One nondescript cardboard box, then another, slid into the room. The first halted as Gestalt realised Vyrm'n was in this room, making the following boxes bump into each other with the muffled rattle of whatever was inside. The orb narrowed into a rough, semi-fluid column and confronted the schrotgolem . A cautiously tense exchange commenced between the pair; the details of which were lost on Maxwell, though even he could feel the mutual wariness of one being toward the other. The tension left an almost electric quality in the air, or perhaps that was Gestalt's probing consciousness before it was tersely curtailed by Vyrm'n . Finally, an agreement was reached and the Faceless slid aside, letting the convoy shuffle past and tumble out the window. Maxwell stood helplessly, glancing between a tensely alert Galus who just realised he was weaponless, and the still-trembling Faceless.
He tentatively placed a hand upon the shadow; an oddly human gesture of comfort. There was a pause before the link was established as it idlyoccurred to Maxwell it was always Vyrm'n that reached out to him - never the other way round. Beneath the silent, starry exterior, a torrent of thought rushed invisibly by. The Faceless' consciousness was broodingly wrapped up in these musings against the pain, and didn't seem to notice Maxwell watching. The bulk of it was swiftly processed and discarded sensory input, but a few notable pieces warranted a second, third, or consequent glances by Vyrm'n . Enmeshed within this neural storm of input was also the shadow's own thoughts; intermittent insights which punctuated the mess of perceived existence. In a way, it was kind of like looking at the world through Vyrm'n's vision again, if far less coherent. Still, the parallel let Maxwell perceive what another may have not; and that was the Faceless' intense focus upon the fight, and more disconcertingly to the human, an emotion that had somehow seemed foreign to that distant, detatchedly metacognitive being.
Vyrm'n was excited. Every drop of blood, every flesh-rending bullet, every infinitesimal tick of a lifetime counting down triggered an emotional response it had never before known it possessed. As the combatants tore themselves apart, the Faceless watched with a grin only Maxwell could detect. The euphoria was like a haze over Vyrm'n's mind, Maxwell floundering through it in his haste to leave. Returning to his own headspace again, the man removed his hand. The starscape did not move, still sightlessly staring towards Samuel and The Sunset; while Maxwell backed off and slumped against the ceiling which postured presently as their wall.
Two mad souls stood off on the edge of the Escherscape. From one, a soft guttural laugh reflected a man drowning within a twisted euphoria. From the other, the ceaseless grinding of soul on machine emanated from a blinding pool of noise, rage, and confusion. The pause lasted only an instant. The horde of spirits within The Sunset channelled their combined fury into the barrel of The Nightmare. As the pitch of the weapon rose, so did the wailing of the Balancer . The cosmic entity, tormented by the incessant cries of countless undead, weary from the unearthly strain on his essence, mustered the last remnants of his eroding sanity behind the very principle which had defined his existence.
"SAMUEL luTHERION! YOU HAVE GROWN TOO POWERFUL. YOU WILL BE DESTROYED."
With that proclamation, the Balancer fired The Nightmare. The blinding judgement bolt scorched the broken mosaic of the courtyard as it hurled toward the chuckling Karmist.
Samuel stared at the oncoming beam, its bright violet glare burning the image into his unprotected retinas. He basked in the ever widening shadow of the oncoming death. Then, in the moment before the titanic attack contacted its target, Samuel flung himself in the air once more, half of his constantly compounding shrapnel arm vaporizing in the blast. The airborne arm launched forth chains of serrated stone and glass, piercing and constricting about The Sunset's armored exoskeleton. The spirits cried out against the intrusions and, as with Galus moments prior, flooded the ragged lances with their howling substance. Their connection to the Karmist disrupted, the pieces of the piercing shrapnel fell lifelessly to the floor. Relentlessly, Samuel fired dozens more of the coiling snares which continued to wrap about The Sunsets' frame.
The struggling Balancer retaliated against Samuel with a barrage of machine-gun bullets. The shrapnel arm refused to release The Sunset, flinging Samuel around; but the Karmist was peppered with slugs all the same. The projectiles sizzled as they rent the Karmist's flesh. A sudden, hacking cough interrupted the incessant cackling, spattering bloody stains. As the sanguine fluid trickled from the corners of the wry grin, a putrid stench poured from the freshly made wounds. Without hesitation, The Sunset repeated his assault. The crepitating machine gun glowed an ember red as rapid shots burned into the airborne Karmist . This time there was no attempt at evasion. The impacts of hundreds of metal fragments sent Samuel's body into a convulsive fit. The Karmist relished every shot, every shredded organ, every broken bone. Each damaging blast brought him that much closer to the sensation of death - the all consuming absolute, which the Karmic forces unleashed within his psyche proclaimed as the source of all joy and pleasure.
The horrendous odor which emanated from every wound on the Karmist engulfed his body and the monstrous arm. For a moment, the weaponized attack of The Sunset halted as the Balancer's hulking machinery worked to reload the smoking firearm. In that instant, no longer absorbed in the progression of his own demise, Samuel lunged at the Balancer . A dozen more shrapnel spikes, filled with the Karmic potential channelled from Samuel's own near-death, penetrated The Sunset's armor. The spirits screamed like a knife on dry ice, the keening shriek resounding through the entire dimension. Once again they sought to flood against the intruder; however, the death-Karma saturating the ceramic spears diverted the spirits' energies, severing the life threads which bound those undead unfortunate enough to run against Karma's flow.
A grinding, heavily mechanical bass joined the chorus as The Sunset's repair function was initiated. The Balancer's internal counter spiralled wildly downward as Samuel the undead essence, rebuilding the Karmist's mangled form instead of the intended burnt-out machine-gun components. His vital organs replaced as the machinegun ceased smoking, Samuel was tossed out of the way this time somewhat to avoid the worst of the barrage. This insane exchange continued for a few more rounds of destroy and repair, until even through his mad fury The Sunset realised something was amiss. Swinging a hefty, gun-toting arm around, the Balancer finally dislodged the mad Karmist. Samuel made no attempt to break his fall, and lay there for a few moments, sniggering at something. A train of cardboard boxes snaked its way to line up behind the broken man.
"Nice of you to join us... heheheh... Gestalt." The golem made no reply.
The schrotarm bucked and tossed the Karmist back into the air, picking up more pieces of debris as it lunged at The Sunset again. A lid snapped open, and Gestalt joined the fray with a swarm of shrapnel. It lacked the precision it possessed when confronting Vyrm'n, but nonetheless found its target, digging away at the joints and coils in the suit. The Balancer was conflicted; the terrified servitude of the legion compounded with The Sunset's fundamental principles insisted Samuel be eliminated - yet the schrotgolem was doing a more efficient job at attacking the ancient being. The Karmist's jagged arm leapt for the helm of the Balancer , stone-and-glass claws seeking to tear it right off; the violet-bathed Nightmare arm parried it even as it charged up, and flung Samuel aside again. The coilgun arced through the air, following the madman, then, unexpectedly, stopped.
The grating creak of straining metal overcame the hum of the charged arm as The Balancer's machinery struggled to move it once more. Slowly, though, the paralysis spread from the Nightmare to The Sunset's other appendages. Steadily, the schrotgolem integrated the extremities of the Balancer . Machine gun bullets fired frantically, futilely in hopes of breaking Gestalt's hold. The weary, cluttered, mind of The Sunset, however, was not nearly strong enough to resist the schrotgolem's grasp. Frozen in place, the paralytic Balancer watched helplessly as the grinning Karmist approached. The shrapnel arm broke into dozens of writhing serrated chains, infused with the manic pursuit of death which coursed through Samuel, before they ensnared and chased out the legion even as it clung desperately to the vestiges of the Balancer's fragmented being. The final cries of countless souls reverberated throughout the Escherscape, dragged into the abyss.
For a being that endured the indignity of still-death to stave off the horrific finality of the true one, The Sunset showed no fear even as weaker souls quailed into nothing around him in the face of the void. They screamed for salvation; from Lutherion, Dorukomets, the Balancer itself. Clarity returned to The Sunset as the spirits were torn away, gifted him the most precious of moments to reflect.
He had regrets, certainly; but now they seemed immaterial, positively trivial, even. The final violet fragments of Judgement of his universe, fallen but no less noble, glowed - nay, roared in brief yet glorious defiance against the nothingness before they were snuffed out in a chill, rattling smirk of a breath.
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