Re: The Grand Battle II! [Round 6:Doomish Temple!]
08-19-2010, 01:22 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.
"Maxwell, dear, what's-"
The nun's consoling words were interrupted by rumbling from the way they'd came, followed by an echoing crash as Vyrm'n's tail-end clumsily flicked into a switch, dropping a slab of stone in the doorway ahead of the pursuing schrotgolem. The Faceless paid no heed, flying as fast as she could; with blatant, crashing disregard for avoiding impact with the walls at each opening. Arcing into the final chamber, Maxwell's (and to an only slightly dimmer extent, Clara) inherent vitality set the confined space ablaze in the Faceless' eyes-
Neither human had time to cry out in surprise or warning, as a mass of rock rose out of the floor, braced itself, and grabbed the hurtling darkness. Its brawny stone fingers dug deep into the black, piercing the shadow's mind with the sonorous tones of its pseudo-consciousness. Time slowed to a honeyed crawl within Vyrm'n as she fled the caustic noise, but the depths seemed too far, or torn apart, and something supposed to be fluid and indivisible was cracking, scattering, melding too smoothly into that hated everything -
The golem bodily tossed Vyrm'n into a corner, stood impassively until it was apparent she wouldn't cause it more work, before shuffling to Maxwell's side and examining the pit trap. As it kept up a constant, seismic grumbling, it ignored the looks of shock its sudden appearance was receiving while it filled in the trap in a similar manner to the one Vyrm'n had set off earlier. Clara glanced toward the man with some trepidation, entertaining the very real possibility this was gonna be the last straw for whatever tenuous grip her charge had on his sanity.
Maxwell, meanwhile, was staring vacantly either at or through the golem as it remolded the floor in front of the main carving. He finally stood on no discernible cue, took one glance at the trembling Faceless in the corner, and marched out, yelling, "RAR, YOU ROTTEN SKELETON! GET OVER HERE-"
His voice faded into the caverns, followed by the muted sound of two frustrated males banging on either side of a stone slab. Clara, with her wits more about her, waited until the implacable beast had finished its task, and melted silently into the bedrock. The nun examined both the ground it had entered and vanished on, as well as the sealed pit, before turning her attention to the Faceless. It was still quietly trembling after the assault, and despite all the chaos the creature had caused last round, the Necropolitan was curious.
"Vyrm'n?"
No response. Hesitant, Clara crouched by the featureless blob and extended a hand, drifting over the starscape for a nervous moment before finally resting upon it.
Black. Rushing. Vertigo. Clara withdrew her hand sharply, only for the starry surface to warp and mold as it in turn extended a cast of a slender, motionless hand. Glancing down the passageways to see if Maxwell had deactivated the trap (she was pretty sure, she thought with mixed feelings, she'd heard Maxwell asking how daft Konka was to suggest blowing the barrier apart), the nun clasped the starry hand. It was as cold and motionless as a mannequin's, but this time Vyrm'n spared her conversant the discomfort, the connection eerily silent as the Faceless used all its concentration to keep her thoughts to herself. If strain had a noise, that was all Clara could hear.
"Vyrm'n?" she repeated, gently.
...
What do you want
Who are you
The Faceless' words, or the formless agglomerate of thoughts that were the best Vyrm'n could offer, surprised the nun. She could see the rest of the shadow's thoughts rushing by, even as it let her glimpse the key one. "I'm Sister Clara Jungfrau. I... was in a battle like yours, Vyrm'n. Now I... I'm afraid I don't know."
Why
"W-well I suppose if you account for Konka and I both being undead, in a locale full of zombies-"
Where
Clara stared at the Faceless, nonplussed. "In the mall? Last round?"
In the right yes. The amount of despondency in those final syllable-thoughts again astounded the Necropolitan, the pair descending into silence. Vyrm'n at any rate had talked as much as she felt was needed, and the black arm disappeared into the greater mass. There was an avalanche of scree in the next rooms over; the golem had reappeared and removed the door trap. Konka Rar dismissed Maxwell's agitated, helping hand over the pile of rubble as he snapped,
"If you'd cease asking me ridiculous questions and just showed me the carving, that - golem wouldn't be tailing us. We still have no idea of its motives and to be frank-"
The whole group, save the golem which was devouring great hunks of the basalt barricade, were silently witnessing Konka's discovery of the offending carving. Making an exemplary effort to pass off his disbelief as mere perplexity, the lich declared in a voice that proved even he didn't believe it,
"Yes. That is my vacuum cleaner."
"Maxwell, dear, what's-"
The nun's consoling words were interrupted by rumbling from the way they'd came, followed by an echoing crash as Vyrm'n's tail-end clumsily flicked into a switch, dropping a slab of stone in the doorway ahead of the pursuing schrotgolem. The Faceless paid no heed, flying as fast as she could; with blatant, crashing disregard for avoiding impact with the walls at each opening. Arcing into the final chamber, Maxwell's (and to an only slightly dimmer extent, Clara) inherent vitality set the confined space ablaze in the Faceless' eyes-
Neither human had time to cry out in surprise or warning, as a mass of rock rose out of the floor, braced itself, and grabbed the hurtling darkness. Its brawny stone fingers dug deep into the black, piercing the shadow's mind with the sonorous tones of its pseudo-consciousness. Time slowed to a honeyed crawl within Vyrm'n as she fled the caustic noise, but the depths seemed too far, or torn apart, and something supposed to be fluid and indivisible was cracking, scattering, melding too smoothly into that hated everything -
The golem bodily tossed Vyrm'n into a corner, stood impassively until it was apparent she wouldn't cause it more work, before shuffling to Maxwell's side and examining the pit trap. As it kept up a constant, seismic grumbling, it ignored the looks of shock its sudden appearance was receiving while it filled in the trap in a similar manner to the one Vyrm'n had set off earlier. Clara glanced toward the man with some trepidation, entertaining the very real possibility this was gonna be the last straw for whatever tenuous grip her charge had on his sanity.
Maxwell, meanwhile, was staring vacantly either at or through the golem as it remolded the floor in front of the main carving. He finally stood on no discernible cue, took one glance at the trembling Faceless in the corner, and marched out, yelling, "RAR, YOU ROTTEN SKELETON! GET OVER HERE-"
His voice faded into the caverns, followed by the muted sound of two frustrated males banging on either side of a stone slab. Clara, with her wits more about her, waited until the implacable beast had finished its task, and melted silently into the bedrock. The nun examined both the ground it had entered and vanished on, as well as the sealed pit, before turning her attention to the Faceless. It was still quietly trembling after the assault, and despite all the chaos the creature had caused last round, the Necropolitan was curious.
"Vyrm'n?"
No response. Hesitant, Clara crouched by the featureless blob and extended a hand, drifting over the starscape for a nervous moment before finally resting upon it.
Black. Rushing. Vertigo. Clara withdrew her hand sharply, only for the starry surface to warp and mold as it in turn extended a cast of a slender, motionless hand. Glancing down the passageways to see if Maxwell had deactivated the trap (she was pretty sure, she thought with mixed feelings, she'd heard Maxwell asking how daft Konka was to suggest blowing the barrier apart), the nun clasped the starry hand. It was as cold and motionless as a mannequin's, but this time Vyrm'n spared her conversant the discomfort, the connection eerily silent as the Faceless used all its concentration to keep her thoughts to herself. If strain had a noise, that was all Clara could hear.
"Vyrm'n?" she repeated, gently.
...
What do you want
Who are you
The Faceless' words, or the formless agglomerate of thoughts that were the best Vyrm'n could offer, surprised the nun. She could see the rest of the shadow's thoughts rushing by, even as it let her glimpse the key one. "I'm Sister Clara Jungfrau. I... was in a battle like yours, Vyrm'n. Now I... I'm afraid I don't know."
Why
"W-well I suppose if you account for Konka and I both being undead, in a locale full of zombies-"
Where
Clara stared at the Faceless, nonplussed. "In the mall? Last round?"
In the right yes. The amount of despondency in those final syllable-thoughts again astounded the Necropolitan, the pair descending into silence. Vyrm'n at any rate had talked as much as she felt was needed, and the black arm disappeared into the greater mass. There was an avalanche of scree in the next rooms over; the golem had reappeared and removed the door trap. Konka Rar dismissed Maxwell's agitated, helping hand over the pile of rubble as he snapped,
"If you'd cease asking me ridiculous questions and just showed me the carving, that - golem wouldn't be tailing us. We still have no idea of its motives and to be frank-"
The whole group, save the golem which was devouring great hunks of the basalt barricade, were silently witnessing Konka's discovery of the offending carving. Making an exemplary effort to pass off his disbelief as mere perplexity, the lich declared in a voice that proved even he didn't believe it,
"Yes. That is my vacuum cleaner."
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