Re: The Grand Battle II! [Round 4: Showtime!]
02-11-2010, 02:02 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by bobthepen.
A single light bulb dangled from the ceiling, dimly illuminating the small room. The scent of ammonia wafted though the air. Various bottles of assorted cleaners lined the metal shelves, some open, a few tipped over. A pair of mops cast long narrow shadows which clung to the contours of the gray brick wall. On the floor, shards of glass glittered amidst a canvas of broken ceramic and crushed stone.
The closed door muffled the jeering of the ethereal audience, and any clamoring from the stage was drowned out by the quiet sobbing of the man in the corner. Tears streaked down Samuel's face as the effects of his earlier Karmic exchange began to wear off. The thrill of death faded away, uncovering the shame and guilt which tormented the Karmist. The demons of memory sharpened their claws once more, ready to force upon Samuel the remembrance of all the wrongs he had committed. With his light gone from him, Samuel had no means to stop the oncoming attack.
The last bit of the Karmic haze dissipated, and sharp, painful claws dug into Samuel's mind. A shriek shot along the walls of the room. The glass and ceramic debris trembled with the Karmist as he begged the memories to leave him alone. They persisted, accusing, condemning, producing thousands of images and sensations of the blood-lust that had marked the Karmist's life. In a futile effort to escape their onslaught, Samuel wrapped his consciousness in darkness. The fragments of the shrapnel-arm which lay about him responded in kind. A tightly packed, jagged cocoon enclosed Samuel, muting his cries.
The demons knew this trick and retaliated. Denying Samuel any solace, they pierced his defenses with unyielding ferocity. The poisonous memories flooded into his mental shell, engulfing him, drowning him. The self-destroying Karmist had nothing left to do but scream.
-----
Having been tossed most unceremoniously to backstage, Galus took some time to brush himself off before choosing to return to the front or revisit the other rooms in the back. He was not too keen on being humiliated again, and his Ursian senses dreadfully hated the scent of tomatoes. A thought crossed his mind to use this opportunity to acquire some new weapons, but was cut short by the sound of a muffled scream coming from a nearby janitor's closet. He took a few steps toward the wooden door but stopped short as a second scream reached his ears. He knew then who he would encounter should he enter that room. A short battle between curiosity and caution waged on in the pilot's mind.
A single light bulb dangled from the ceiling, dimly illuminating the small room. The scent of ammonia wafted though the air. Various bottles of assorted cleaners lined the metal shelves, some open, a few tipped over. A pair of mops cast long narrow shadows which clung to the contours of the gray brick wall. On the floor, shards of glass glittered amidst a canvas of broken ceramic and crushed stone.
The closed door muffled the jeering of the ethereal audience, and any clamoring from the stage was drowned out by the quiet sobbing of the man in the corner. Tears streaked down Samuel's face as the effects of his earlier Karmic exchange began to wear off. The thrill of death faded away, uncovering the shame and guilt which tormented the Karmist. The demons of memory sharpened their claws once more, ready to force upon Samuel the remembrance of all the wrongs he had committed. With his light gone from him, Samuel had no means to stop the oncoming attack.
The last bit of the Karmic haze dissipated, and sharp, painful claws dug into Samuel's mind. A shriek shot along the walls of the room. The glass and ceramic debris trembled with the Karmist as he begged the memories to leave him alone. They persisted, accusing, condemning, producing thousands of images and sensations of the blood-lust that had marked the Karmist's life. In a futile effort to escape their onslaught, Samuel wrapped his consciousness in darkness. The fragments of the shrapnel-arm which lay about him responded in kind. A tightly packed, jagged cocoon enclosed Samuel, muting his cries.
The demons knew this trick and retaliated. Denying Samuel any solace, they pierced his defenses with unyielding ferocity. The poisonous memories flooded into his mental shell, engulfing him, drowning him. The self-destroying Karmist had nothing left to do but scream.
-----
Having been tossed most unceremoniously to backstage, Galus took some time to brush himself off before choosing to return to the front or revisit the other rooms in the back. He was not too keen on being humiliated again, and his Ursian senses dreadfully hated the scent of tomatoes. A thought crossed his mind to use this opportunity to acquire some new weapons, but was cut short by the sound of a muffled scream coming from a nearby janitor's closet. He took a few steps toward the wooden door but stopped short as a second scream reached his ears. He knew then who he would encounter should he enter that room. A short battle between curiosity and caution waged on in the pilot's mind.