Re: The Grand Battle II! [Round 5: Value City Mall!]
05-15-2010, 07:22 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.
Vyrm'n was tired. Ragged and worn and desiring nothing but sleep. And no matter where, within or without, she retreated to; the forces found her, screaming assimilation. Demanding an acceptance that she was trapped in the filthy amorphous howl of everything, to consent to it jabbering away at her until the Faceless was as deaf as the world, screaming forever without ever a moment to pause and listen again.
Death. Vyrm'n knew how to deal it to others, and yet understood so little of her own circumstance. Last time that incessantly keening unknown plagued her, it had driven her here while a baser form failed to make it reciprocate. All these thoughts were scattered, nebulous; but roiled into an overwhelming sense of ill-ease in Vyrm'n as she considered her options. Conscience, meanwhile, had drifted aside, letting the Faceless' own worries twist her into submission.
What is death like?
Beauty. Inimitable beauty in the act.
Somehow, these words resonated in Vyrm'n, but it wasn't what she wanted to hear...
And mine?
It will be beyond compare, Vyrm'n.
The spirit thought for another moment, then finally, misgivings obvious, gave in, letting that death-loving force approach and enshroud it.
In the Atrium, a solitary figure strode purposefully through the horde which totally ignored it; strange behaviour considering the woman was not a zombie herself. Or, at least, not in appearance. She carried a sizeable book, open at a page with a single rune emblazoned upon it, explanation for the undeads' disinterest. The necropolitan frowned as she walked into the entranceway.
The exit was walled off with barricades beyond rational manpower, replaced with a featureless wall of concrete. Somehow, this treatment didn't really surprise Clara, who was finding the lack of contestants far more disconcerting.
There was a lot of things about this set-up that didn't feel at all right to the nun, but amongst it all she mulled over the possibilities as to who had made the kill.
Vyrm'n returned to the world, and before even acknowledging the encroaching horde, she picked herself up off the floor, noting the tendencies of this new form. It seemed to resist motion while at rest, but became slicker and sharper as she moved, coercing her to swirl quietly - until the violet flames licked through the melting plexiglass.
Leaping into action, Vyrm'n swiftly took in the room, looking for a way to burst out and fight the horde. Conscience had settled around her mind, both sheltering and melding it to the still-raging void. The vestiges of Karma offered a swiftly fading aural colour to the Faceless' much-deteriorated atomic vision, but with these foes the potential that Samuel would've redistributed was long gone. Even with Conscience protecting her, the void still swallowed up much of the song, leaving the shadow with far less than it was used to to see the world. The hole at the teller was big enough for the first zombies to crawl through, their flesh sizzling against the molten glass.
Vyrm'n was ready, and promptly slammed a black spine through the first zombie's leering face. The second she grabbed by his head (and oddly-well-attached hat) and swung across, severing and cauterising his neck upon the blistering edge of the new-formed gap. Another rush of flame poured from that zombie with the mad grin, this time the violet dancing across the black with no glass to divert it. The Faceless did not flinch, instead rather calmly arcing a pseudopod through the flames, enveloping the clone's head, and swiftly and messily crushing it.
The flamethrower had cleared a decent area in front of the till, and Vyrm'n shrugged through the hole, pouring into the crowd. She was dimly aware of at least a few bullets plunging in as she systematically ripped apart the legion, one by one, but the universal song was no longer what fascinated her, even as chunks of it wailed within. No, the Faceless was taking savage delight in killing foe after foe, increasing the circle of stilled and shredded corpses around it. A graceful, skyward arc, and Vyrm'n left the ring, crushing the gunman upon impact.
Atomic focus swung around, taking in the carnage. The walking dead were now mostly assembling from the main crossroads, Vyrm'n having carved through all the undead humans cornered down the plaza that led to Electromagic. A poisonous, discordant tone alerted the shadow to a final zombie, standing outside the electronics store. The television screens, previously dead, now had lines upon lines of murderous words pouring down them, the bloody ink which emblazoned them pooling on the tiles below. Vyrm'n approached the enemy, taking in the height, the fur, the horns (one cracked), all marking this one out as distinctly inhuman. It turned, fixing the Faceless with its alien stare, before breaking into a run, arms outstretched, purple coal bursting over its shoulder as it launched towards Vyrm'n with a bloodstained snarl.
Vyrm'n was tired. Ragged and worn and desiring nothing but sleep. And no matter where, within or without, she retreated to; the forces found her, screaming assimilation. Demanding an acceptance that she was trapped in the filthy amorphous howl of everything, to consent to it jabbering away at her until the Faceless was as deaf as the world, screaming forever without ever a moment to pause and listen again.
Death. Vyrm'n knew how to deal it to others, and yet understood so little of her own circumstance. Last time that incessantly keening unknown plagued her, it had driven her here while a baser form failed to make it reciprocate. All these thoughts were scattered, nebulous; but roiled into an overwhelming sense of ill-ease in Vyrm'n as she considered her options. Conscience, meanwhile, had drifted aside, letting the Faceless' own worries twist her into submission.
What is death like?
Beauty. Inimitable beauty in the act.
Somehow, these words resonated in Vyrm'n, but it wasn't what she wanted to hear...
And mine?
It will be beyond compare, Vyrm'n.
The spirit thought for another moment, then finally, misgivings obvious, gave in, letting that death-loving force approach and enshroud it.
In the Atrium, a solitary figure strode purposefully through the horde which totally ignored it; strange behaviour considering the woman was not a zombie herself. Or, at least, not in appearance. She carried a sizeable book, open at a page with a single rune emblazoned upon it, explanation for the undeads' disinterest. The necropolitan frowned as she walked into the entranceway.
The exit was walled off with barricades beyond rational manpower, replaced with a featureless wall of concrete. Somehow, this treatment didn't really surprise Clara, who was finding the lack of contestants far more disconcerting.
There was a lot of things about this set-up that didn't feel at all right to the nun, but amongst it all she mulled over the possibilities as to who had made the kill.
Vyrm'n returned to the world, and before even acknowledging the encroaching horde, she picked herself up off the floor, noting the tendencies of this new form. It seemed to resist motion while at rest, but became slicker and sharper as she moved, coercing her to swirl quietly - until the violet flames licked through the melting plexiglass.
Leaping into action, Vyrm'n swiftly took in the room, looking for a way to burst out and fight the horde. Conscience had settled around her mind, both sheltering and melding it to the still-raging void. The vestiges of Karma offered a swiftly fading aural colour to the Faceless' much-deteriorated atomic vision, but with these foes the potential that Samuel would've redistributed was long gone. Even with Conscience protecting her, the void still swallowed up much of the song, leaving the shadow with far less than it was used to to see the world. The hole at the teller was big enough for the first zombies to crawl through, their flesh sizzling against the molten glass.
Vyrm'n was ready, and promptly slammed a black spine through the first zombie's leering face. The second she grabbed by his head (and oddly-well-attached hat) and swung across, severing and cauterising his neck upon the blistering edge of the new-formed gap. Another rush of flame poured from that zombie with the mad grin, this time the violet dancing across the black with no glass to divert it. The Faceless did not flinch, instead rather calmly arcing a pseudopod through the flames, enveloping the clone's head, and swiftly and messily crushing it.
The flamethrower had cleared a decent area in front of the till, and Vyrm'n shrugged through the hole, pouring into the crowd. She was dimly aware of at least a few bullets plunging in as she systematically ripped apart the legion, one by one, but the universal song was no longer what fascinated her, even as chunks of it wailed within. No, the Faceless was taking savage delight in killing foe after foe, increasing the circle of stilled and shredded corpses around it. A graceful, skyward arc, and Vyrm'n left the ring, crushing the gunman upon impact.
Atomic focus swung around, taking in the carnage. The walking dead were now mostly assembling from the main crossroads, Vyrm'n having carved through all the undead humans cornered down the plaza that led to Electromagic. A poisonous, discordant tone alerted the shadow to a final zombie, standing outside the electronics store. The television screens, previously dead, now had lines upon lines of murderous words pouring down them, the bloody ink which emblazoned them pooling on the tiles below. Vyrm'n approached the enemy, taking in the height, the fur, the horns (one cracked), all marking this one out as distinctly inhuman. It turned, fixing the Faceless with its alien stare, before breaking into a run, arms outstretched, purple coal bursting over its shoulder as it launched towards Vyrm'n with a bloodstained snarl.
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