The Grand Battle II! [Happy End!]

Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.

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"All right," declared Maxwell, turning back to confirm his companion hadn't fallen in the pit of spikes yawning in the doorway, "which one do you suggest next?"

The lich hop-hovered noiselessly over the chasm, letting the irritation in his voice make up for the fact his gritted teeth weren't quite contributing to the mood. "I'd rather you explained what you thought this was going to achieve." For while Gestalt and Vyrm'n had been busy discovering and consequently scheming as to how they'd go about killing a Grandmaster, Konka had been having an increasingly difficult time tolerating Maxwell's antics. The two of them would enter a room, the human would peruse the walls, nattering on for a while until Konka replied to some question or another directed at him. This exchange would be followed by Maxwell giving him a careful look, and marching back into the octagonal chamber and arbitrarily picking a new passageway to investigate. The duo repeated this three times without proceeding any further than the first chamber, although the pit of spikes in the doorway had been a nice touch to the last room they'd explored.

Maxwell just kind of waved an absently dismissive hand in Konka's direction, appraising the circle of eight while pointedly refusing to answer the lich. Konka's fleshless fingers gripped his staff a little tighter, the unpleasant little creak of his teeth grating failing to relieve his frustration. Conceding there had to be some method to to the genius' madness, the lich jabbed his staff at one of the three doors he hadn't followed Maxwell into.

"That one, then."

Maxwell took a look at the passageway in question, his gaze's travels interrupted only by the sight of the golem again rising silently from the bedrock and filling in the spike trap. He hissed an invective of some sort under his breath, then snapped, "no."

"And why would-" Konka's exasperated reply was interrupted by a prompt through his cybernetics. Some formidable magical source, its coiled and compacted signal diffused as it was by the ambient forces in the stone, was approaching them from the passageway where they'd left the other three Battlers behind. The lich raised his staff a little. "-something's coming."


Gestalt was, understandably, watching its words for reasons threefold. First, and perhaps most disconcertingly least of the schrotgolem's concerns, was attempting to broach the topic of Vyrm'n attacking the Grandmaster who'd appeared in their midst. Disconcerting that it had bigger problems than persuading a moody, apathetic, contrarian, war-weary alien into relucatant motion. Second, the Grandmaster in question. "Clara" seemed quite content to let her lagging audience set the pace, provided Gestalt could keep peppering her with questions and seem attentive to her response. Granted, multi-tasking came naturally to a creature such as Gestalt, but the dual conversations were still enough of a challenge for the naturally solitary schrotgolem. Gestalt didn't want Clara's guest alerted to its discussions with the Faceless, despite its apparent delight at uncovering its colleagues' conspiracies. Somehow, the schrotgolem doubted the Organizer would be particularly appreciative of schemes on its life, and thus took its sweet time to ensure said intruder, hopefully victim in the near future, would remain oblivious.

Finally, there was the issue of the other omnipotent being Gestalt and Vyrm'n and the three humanoids entangled in this mess had to deal with. The schrotgolem could only speculate on what the Observer thought of recent events, but could only assume their snide, snickering captor had little qualms with what had transpired. Tempting as it was to discount its almost... lackadaisical ways as the breadth and depth of the Grandmaster, Gestalt didn't want to count on it.

I think-

Surprised, Gestalt established that "Clara" had not addressed him, and was nattering on about a healing crystal that had caused some Lutherion a considerable amount of grief. The schrotgolem made a polite noise, coming to terms with the fact Vyrm'n had not only been listening to its musings (granted, it'd left the connection open despite not expecting a reply), but felt like responding.

I think I could chase it down. It's a mind, a vast and twisted mind and Clara only let a tiny spark through, but it's one mind and no matter how much minds coil and twist and slip they're still one, they don't break.

Vyrm'n's bordering-on-threatening-to-sound-cheerful tones made something in Gestalt quail a little just hearing it, but the schrotgolem urged her to continue.

I think I want to do this. I want that monster to touch the Void and flee screaming to the betweenspace the nothing or wherever it hides, scattering into the emptiness. Then I could wrap its heart in black and make it carve me a ransom hollow to hide in before I let it see the the nothing it'll fade into for good- here, the Faceless snapped from its reverie, shivered briefly -but where would that leave you, Gestalt?

"Gestalt?"

The schrotgolem cursed quietly to itself, it had been vaguely aware of the Grandmaster's previous query but absently skipped it. "Vyrm'n-"

"Private moment? Not a problem. I'll go ahead, you two come and find me once you're done." The nun laughed quietly to herself, drifting ahead.

How certain are you that you could kill a Grandmaster in your presence?

Vyrm'n eschewed metaphor, but her assent was confident.

Then... we may agree attacking the Organizer is suboptimal. It would only serve to alert the Observer to our plans, and give him ample to time protect himself.

There was a little smirk behind the Faceless' mental nod, but it was agreement nonetheless.

So now what?

We spend our time here discovering as much as we can - about Grandmasters and their factions... and find a way to expose the Observer.

The Faceless didn't need to be told what her job was after that. With a quietly, dangerously roiling sense of purpose to her, she just nodded again.

Of course, key to gathering that information is maximising our time-

Gestalt was interrupted by a very pertinent boom. The link between the two entities was snapped shut again by the Faceless, who was spasming violently. She squeezed out a pained the rock it's furious before leaping into the air and darting clumsily after the Necropolitan.


Moments earlier, "Clara" took a look around the central chamber, pausing briefly at the corridor Maxwell had refused to go down. She smiled at the lone eye staring sentinel at them from above the doorway, then turned to find a ram's skull in her chest, a dull fire glowing in its empty sockets. The presumptuous little lich on the other end of the staff snarled a demand for an explanation as to what his sensors were reading off the nun.

Konka got only one word out before Clara raised a hand to freeze him in place, but the ensuing explosion was quite sufficient.

"Detonate."