Re: The Grand Battle II! [Round 4: Showtime!]
03-06-2010, 12:35 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by SleepingOrange.
Gestalt was ready to cut the wizard-née-spaceman down in a storm of flying blades, when a thought occurred: for the purposes of this little scene, the golem was the villain. The villain can't win; the audience doesn't expect it, they don't want it, and they won't like it. In the still-unstable mind of Gestalt, pleasing the crowd had superseded killing its opponents: who knew what sort of deus ex machina this place was capable of pulling if things didn't go according to the rules of drama?
To that end, it waved the Sunset's hands, sending the swords across the stage like it had planned, but slowed them to the point that Galus had no trouble intercepting them, raising magical shields and batting them away with his staff. The Sunset's voice simulator roared with feigned rage, and the suit charged lumberingly across the stage, swinging its arms at lethal, but dodgeable, speeds.
Galus had no idea what was wrong with this thing; he'd heard about it brutally and efficiently swarming foes; he'd seen the way it could attack before. And yet, it was almost as though it wasn't even trying now; aside from the coilgun blast, not a thing it had done today hadn't been easily counterable. Still, the pragmatic pilot was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth; maybe contact with Samuel had broken it, or it wasn't accustomed to controlling this sort of body. Didn't matter; what mattered was the approaching juggernaut.
There was no way to deflect an eight-ton robot charging you, in Galus's experience, so this was going to have to be one hell of a finishing move. He wished he actually understood how to make this stick work, but it seemed to do about what he wanted it to. He concentrated, keeping the staff pointed directly at the oncoming golem, muttering suitably arcane-sounding gibberish. The staff vibrated, its tip cracking more and more, glowing bright blue and making a sound like silk being ripped. This had better work...
Gestalt was beginning to consider slowing down to give Galus time to finish whatever he was doing; the golem was nearly withing punching range, and the Urisian showed no signs of being any closer to unleashing his spell than when Gestalt had been all the way across the stage. It let one of the Sunset's steps falter just as there was a blinding flash of blue-white light and a sound like the air was being torn apart molecule by molecule. Galus's staff exploded into splinters, and a pulse of energy hit squarely in the Sunset's chest. It catapulted the suit over backwards, sending it sliding across the stage and smoking. The wizard too was struck with some backlash; he tottered backwards, colliding with a fake tree and leaning against it.
Gestalt raised its new toy's head, vocalizing a few threats, each quieter and more distorted than the last, then let its puppet collapse. Galus, for his part, slid down the trunk to a sitting position. "One step closer to freedom."
The stage manager whistled under his breath. He was nothing if not able to take a dramatic cue, and gestured to have the curtain closed. It slid shut on a scene of blasted field, dead knights, and a battered wizard letting his eyes close as the defeated demon gently smoked. He nodded, insofar as it was visible through the smoke, and waved a small crew onto the stage.
Galus was expecting any minute to be whisked off to another bizarre world and be forced to jump through even more strange hoops, but for the moment, he could rest his eyes. Or so he thought: as soon as the curtains were fully shut, a handful of men with brooms and sanders and boxes and other tools swarmed the stage, removing the props and repairing the floor and doing other seemingly-pointless things with great speed and unnatural efficiency. One of them picked the pilot up bodily and held him until his cohort had removed the tree, then plopped the increasingly-confused alien back on the ground. Galus looked up, surprised to still be on this stage; he was even more surprised to see the Sunset stand up, clicking and whirring as its self-repair systems activated under the efficient guidance of Gestalt.
"Wait a second, I thought I..."
"Yyuuuuuu did verrrry well ooooout there. Ckkkkshonvincing stuffp."
"You mean that was all-"
Before he could finish, Galus was interrupted by the booming voice of the stage manager. "Alright, nice work out there but we're on a timetable for act two. Or play two I suppose. Whatever, you know what I mean.
Either of you... boys? Either of you two boys have a preference for setting, or should we just keep ya guessing? You seem to have a knack for improv."
Gestalt was ready to cut the wizard-née-spaceman down in a storm of flying blades, when a thought occurred: for the purposes of this little scene, the golem was the villain. The villain can't win; the audience doesn't expect it, they don't want it, and they won't like it. In the still-unstable mind of Gestalt, pleasing the crowd had superseded killing its opponents: who knew what sort of deus ex machina this place was capable of pulling if things didn't go according to the rules of drama?
To that end, it waved the Sunset's hands, sending the swords across the stage like it had planned, but slowed them to the point that Galus had no trouble intercepting them, raising magical shields and batting them away with his staff. The Sunset's voice simulator roared with feigned rage, and the suit charged lumberingly across the stage, swinging its arms at lethal, but dodgeable, speeds.
Galus had no idea what was wrong with this thing; he'd heard about it brutally and efficiently swarming foes; he'd seen the way it could attack before. And yet, it was almost as though it wasn't even trying now; aside from the coilgun blast, not a thing it had done today hadn't been easily counterable. Still, the pragmatic pilot was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth; maybe contact with Samuel had broken it, or it wasn't accustomed to controlling this sort of body. Didn't matter; what mattered was the approaching juggernaut.
There was no way to deflect an eight-ton robot charging you, in Galus's experience, so this was going to have to be one hell of a finishing move. He wished he actually understood how to make this stick work, but it seemed to do about what he wanted it to. He concentrated, keeping the staff pointed directly at the oncoming golem, muttering suitably arcane-sounding gibberish. The staff vibrated, its tip cracking more and more, glowing bright blue and making a sound like silk being ripped. This had better work...
Gestalt was beginning to consider slowing down to give Galus time to finish whatever he was doing; the golem was nearly withing punching range, and the Urisian showed no signs of being any closer to unleashing his spell than when Gestalt had been all the way across the stage. It let one of the Sunset's steps falter just as there was a blinding flash of blue-white light and a sound like the air was being torn apart molecule by molecule. Galus's staff exploded into splinters, and a pulse of energy hit squarely in the Sunset's chest. It catapulted the suit over backwards, sending it sliding across the stage and smoking. The wizard too was struck with some backlash; he tottered backwards, colliding with a fake tree and leaning against it.
Gestalt raised its new toy's head, vocalizing a few threats, each quieter and more distorted than the last, then let its puppet collapse. Galus, for his part, slid down the trunk to a sitting position. "One step closer to freedom."
The stage manager whistled under his breath. He was nothing if not able to take a dramatic cue, and gestured to have the curtain closed. It slid shut on a scene of blasted field, dead knights, and a battered wizard letting his eyes close as the defeated demon gently smoked. He nodded, insofar as it was visible through the smoke, and waved a small crew onto the stage.
Galus was expecting any minute to be whisked off to another bizarre world and be forced to jump through even more strange hoops, but for the moment, he could rest his eyes. Or so he thought: as soon as the curtains were fully shut, a handful of men with brooms and sanders and boxes and other tools swarmed the stage, removing the props and repairing the floor and doing other seemingly-pointless things with great speed and unnatural efficiency. One of them picked the pilot up bodily and held him until his cohort had removed the tree, then plopped the increasingly-confused alien back on the ground. Galus looked up, surprised to still be on this stage; he was even more surprised to see the Sunset stand up, clicking and whirring as its self-repair systems activated under the efficient guidance of Gestalt.
"Wait a second, I thought I..."
"Yyuuuuuu did verrrry well ooooout there. Ckkkkshonvincing stuffp."
"You mean that was all-"
Before he could finish, Galus was interrupted by the booming voice of the stage manager. "Alright, nice work out there but we're on a timetable for act two. Or play two I suppose. Whatever, you know what I mean.
Either of you... boys? Either of you two boys have a preference for setting, or should we just keep ya guessing? You seem to have a knack for improv."