Re: The Grand Battle II! [Round 5: Value City Mall!]
07-13-2010, 05:20 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.
The cloak bounced and skipped about the complex, its skittering movements seemingly dictated as much by some non-existent, capricious breeze as much as it was by Vyrm'n. In her desperate game of duck and weave, nipping in and out of the shelter of the singed, sodden disgrace of a cape, the Faceless managed by some miracle or another to stay one jet of flame ahead of the ruined war machine. Conscience and the world snarling in her ears, the shadow was finally, begrudgingly convinced; this aberration had to die. By this point, more for the sake of Vyrm'n's sanity than anything else, let alone the fact Right was seizing her precious raw Faceless matter and chasing her about Splash World with it.
Gliding smoothly, if haphazardly, beneath another fireball, the cape plummeted as Vyrm'n came crawling out, extricating the last of the inky pseudomatter with a flick. The shadow rolled, in its semisolid fashion, away from Rong's next assault. Right directed another wave of bile at the Faceless, who barreled straight through it, disregarding, no, chasing the jet of flame which pierced the murk, slamming into the charred remnants of the blue dragon and snuffing out the flames as the darkness engulfed it. The hulking silhouette, embers still dancing across its hide in a mocking memory of the stars that should've been there, collapsed a little as it crushed the dragon's skeleton. Vyrm'n barely felt the screeching acid corroding into her, the rest of the formerly-pure black sullied with the howls of loathsome matter. Pumped full of bullets and dirt and gore and soot and probably even remnant scraps of the spectral audience, that indelible line that split attentive listener from clamouring world was blurring and bleeding. It was, to the Faceless, a sensation whose human equivalent was, perhaps, a phantom limb - knowing that somewhere was the interface, even if fact and stubborn memory refused to agree on the matter.
Right snarled, tearing new slits in Eemp's mutilated body with his spines as he snaked around and sunk his teeth into the black. The shadow twitched, and a lone dark spike erupted square between Right's antlers. The disconnected jaw snapped as the Faceless flooded it, before the war machine was tossed carelessly into the drained swimming pool.
If the Faceless weren't so engrossed with fighting for its life; its curious vision blinkered in a way, that for humans, would be like outlines and details dissolving to static; it may have paused to consider how that seemingly-mindless foe was so masterful with its twin puppets of blaze and bloodied bilgewater. Instead, whatever scattered bits of cognition not drowning in the buzz were reaching the weary, nebulous conclusion that I I can't keep going ggoing like this
Meanwhile, Conscience found the steady fragmentation of Vyrm'n's mind rather tedious to put up with. It just wanted the damnable creature to cease its agonsing and cull some foes. Its own implacable senses, fuelled by atomic vision, searched outward, and deliberated.
Ccccghome fvffvfollhow baackh tghooootheatre
The background noise was horrendous, but Vyrm'n got the message. She cast a meagre flicker of consciousness about Splash World with mute distaste, huddling back into the sullied darkness; before snaking through the exit.
The cloak bounced and skipped about the complex, its skittering movements seemingly dictated as much by some non-existent, capricious breeze as much as it was by Vyrm'n. In her desperate game of duck and weave, nipping in and out of the shelter of the singed, sodden disgrace of a cape, the Faceless managed by some miracle or another to stay one jet of flame ahead of the ruined war machine. Conscience and the world snarling in her ears, the shadow was finally, begrudgingly convinced; this aberration had to die. By this point, more for the sake of Vyrm'n's sanity than anything else, let alone the fact Right was seizing her precious raw Faceless matter and chasing her about Splash World with it.
Gliding smoothly, if haphazardly, beneath another fireball, the cape plummeted as Vyrm'n came crawling out, extricating the last of the inky pseudomatter with a flick. The shadow rolled, in its semisolid fashion, away from Rong's next assault. Right directed another wave of bile at the Faceless, who barreled straight through it, disregarding, no, chasing the jet of flame which pierced the murk, slamming into the charred remnants of the blue dragon and snuffing out the flames as the darkness engulfed it. The hulking silhouette, embers still dancing across its hide in a mocking memory of the stars that should've been there, collapsed a little as it crushed the dragon's skeleton. Vyrm'n barely felt the screeching acid corroding into her, the rest of the formerly-pure black sullied with the howls of loathsome matter. Pumped full of bullets and dirt and gore and soot and probably even remnant scraps of the spectral audience, that indelible line that split attentive listener from clamouring world was blurring and bleeding. It was, to the Faceless, a sensation whose human equivalent was, perhaps, a phantom limb - knowing that somewhere was the interface, even if fact and stubborn memory refused to agree on the matter.
Right snarled, tearing new slits in Eemp's mutilated body with his spines as he snaked around and sunk his teeth into the black. The shadow twitched, and a lone dark spike erupted square between Right's antlers. The disconnected jaw snapped as the Faceless flooded it, before the war machine was tossed carelessly into the drained swimming pool.
If the Faceless weren't so engrossed with fighting for its life; its curious vision blinkered in a way, that for humans, would be like outlines and details dissolving to static; it may have paused to consider how that seemingly-mindless foe was so masterful with its twin puppets of blaze and bloodied bilgewater. Instead, whatever scattered bits of cognition not drowning in the buzz were reaching the weary, nebulous conclusion that I I can't keep going ggoing like this
Meanwhile, Conscience found the steady fragmentation of Vyrm'n's mind rather tedious to put up with. It just wanted the damnable creature to cease its agonsing and cull some foes. Its own implacable senses, fuelled by atomic vision, searched outward, and deliberated.
Ccccghome fvffvfollhow baackh tghooootheatre
The background noise was horrendous, but Vyrm'n got the message. She cast a meagre flicker of consciousness about Splash World with mute distaste, huddling back into the sullied darkness; before snaking through the exit.
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