Re: The Grand Battle II! [Round 6:Doomish Temple!]
12-18-2010, 07:10 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by SleepingOrange.
It wasn't long before Vyrm'n disappeared behind the advancing pair, and not much longer than that before the sounds of Konka Rar's dismemberment faded too. All that remained was the creak of living rock, the gentle hiss of years, and the bubbling voice of Clara as she told the story of her possessor's battle; words flowed endlessly over the schrotgolem as it followed her through the winding corridor, oddly not accompanied by the twang or thud of traps. It seemed that it was easier and more convenient for the grandmaster to simply rewrite reality such that there were no traps where the two passed than to bother avoiding them or wait for Gestalt to disarm them itself.
It wouldn't be accurate to say that Gestalt wasn't paying attention to what Clara was saying; the golem was excellent at multitasking and was absorbing every quip and side-comment the grandmaster was churning out, but... The actual information it was getting and the near-monologue conversation it was getting it from were not at the forefront of its thoughts. It drifted down the corridor in a cloud of words, pausing dutifully at certain carvings at the Organizer's whim, but its primary thoughts were all focused not the battle the Organizer kept referring to as "PC" ("For beings most of whom time is largely a matter of choice to," he had quipped, "They sure like acronyms and abbreviations."); rather, Gestalt was occupied with its own battle and how to use the Organizer's presence to its advantage. Simply killing the capricious grandmaster was obviously out of the question: even after giving a powerful sorcerer like Konka Rar all the advantages in the world, Clara had been able to obliterate the uppity mage with seemingly no effort. Even if a head-on fight was a possibility, Gestalt doubted very much that defeating him would do any more than kill poor Clara, an innocent in all this. No, all that could be hoped to gain was an advantage or escape.
The golem pondered what motivations or emotions a being like the Organizer could possibly have, and how to appeal to them. It was uncanny how chipper Clara's voice stayed, even when she was tearing Konka Rar apart or describing the gruesome deaths of PC contestants; only for brief, rare moments did any frustration show, and even during those times it was difficult to glean why any particular thing had gotten to him. How was one supposed to deal with that kind of... person? A cloud of dark pessimism threatened to envelop Gestalt's thoughts, but the golem was nothing if not practical and kept plugging quietly away at the problem.
Eventually, something the Organizer was saying cut through the pondering and made Gestalt shift the brunt of its attention to its conversational partner. "You know, I wonder... I know how my battle is going to turn out by now. It's gotten to a point where it's not only unlikely that one of them will win, but it is quite literally impossible in all potential timelines. Er, timelines that matter anyway. I won't bore you with the details and even without a brain to hold you back I doubt you'd understand anyway, so... Let's call it short-term predestination and be done with it. Anyway! Point is, I know what's going to happen in a very general sense. It might as well already have happened, depending on your perspective. I'm curious to see what these carvings have to say about that, aren't you?"
Gestalt was curious, albeit almost certainly for different reasons than the Organizer. The two of them were in the penultimate room for this battle anyway, so it was a fairly short walk to sate their collective curiosities. As they approached the final room, the near-silence of the temple was joined by a subtle scraping, grinding sound; the source became obvious as the corridor opened up into the last chamber: one of the golems, for all anyone knew one of the ones that had been present for Konka Rar's death, was standing by the wall, dragging an appendage across the stone. Actually, through the stone; the "finger" was pressed straight into the rock, and as it moved it left a channel as though the wall were made of soft clay. It payed the new arrivals no mind, and simply went about recording whatever events its mind was telling it to. Most of the chamber's walls were blank, but the narrative of the final round was beginning to play out near the door and outwards; additionally, as the Organizer might have suspected, at the far end of the room there was a bizarre three-pronged shape surrounded by a circle.
Clara's face formed into a satisfied smirk. "I knew it. Well I mean obviously I didn't or I wouldn't have had to check, but... Your language is really ambiguous, you know that? On top of the whole clunky 'speak using sounds' thing. Anyway, yeah, this is nice vindication of my knowledge and suspicions."
"You will have to forgive my presumptuousness, but I was given to understand from some of your previous comments that many of the carvings in this place had been tampered with or altered. Is it perhaps possible that this is such a creation of the grandmaster who seeded those distortions rather than the vindication you were seeking?"
Clara's hand waved airily. "Trust me, I'd know if it was. I knew before, remember? Admittedly that was partially because I could spot the inconsistencies, but trust me, Observer isn't the guy you want to go to for subtlety. His stink is allll over those carvings, but this one's all clean."
Gestalt turned its attention to the lone carving for a few moments. "I believe you referred to this formation as Eemp, Right, and Rong previously. I don't think you ever actually explained what it or they are, however; all I was really able to catch was apparently some power over fire and water. I'm rather curious as to the nature of this contestant."
"It's a weird one, for sure. They are, I guess. Eemp is basically a fireproof straw doll. Like a scarecrow, but with no arms. Right and Rong are dragon heads some wizard sewed onto the doll where its arms would go. Wizards, right? It was built to serve as a war machine, and it was a good one too. Benelea is looking a little silly without it's biggest asset right now, especially after it went on a little bit of a conquering spree. Anyway, dragon heads on a scarecrow. Very odd thing, fun to watch."
That threw the normally-unflappable golem for something of a loop; it had expected some sort of elemental construct or spirit, not... That. That thing. Necromantically-animated vacuums and dolls with dragon heads... The winners of other battles were turning out even more strange and confusing than the contestants in this one had been. All the more reason to get out of this before it had to deal with such bizarre monstrosities. Maybe this could be the start of an appeal to the Organizer's sense of tradition? It was worth a shot anyway.
"It seems like the winners of the other battles are rather more... unique than the comparatively-mundane survivors of this one. Perhaps it would be–"
Once again Gestalt's being was swallowed by cold, its senses dulled and its mind screaming. Clara turned to the boxes the same blank expression she had worn when chastising the schrotgolem the first time, the same expression that had graced her elderly features as she crushed Konka Rar.
"Look, let's not kid ourselves here. I know what you want. I can read you just as well as I can read the more humanoid members of these little games. I know what you're planning, and it won't work. There is no escape. Not through me, not through the Observer, not through Vyrm'n. Not through anything. The only way you'll end this thing with your life is if you kill the other two, or you kill the Observer. I'm not gonna lie, I'd love to see the latter happen. Shake things up, keep these kids on their toes. I might even give you a hand making it happen; some crazy god tore up some delicate spacetime lattices and yadda yadda, point being that there's a lot of confusion and uncertainty around these things right now. It'd be simplicity itself to redirect this battle's final round to somewhere he's not expecting. Wouldn't be much on top of that to give him a good kick in the knee, too, keep things more even. And let's face it, Observer's not top-tier grandmaster material by a longshot in any case."
"But don't go thinking that just because I'm helpful and talkative that I'm on your side or that I'm nice. Or especially that I'm stupid. I can see what you and your faceless friend are doing and what you want. I go along with it not because you're master manipulators or I'm just such a fantastic guy, but because it promises to be amusing and let's face it, I've got nothing to lose by going along for the ride."
The figure that was currently very difficult to think of as Clara turned back towards the rock golem and watched it placidly carving for a few moments. "You basically have two choices at this point, Gestalt. You can faff around here with me, pumping me for information that will almost certainly do you no good while you wait for that stupid genius to trip and land on his own epee, and while you do that the Executor and some other fiddly beings are gonna reestablish the battles' network and ruin any chance you might have had to get close to the Observer. Or, you can get out there now, finish off that useless fencer, and I can drop you right in with your dear grandmaster friend."
Gestalt realized it had been some time since it had been frozen in place; for several seconds now, it was simply the Organizer's words that had held it in place rather than his power. The synthesizer hummed for a moment, then spoke. "That... Is not much of a choice."
As the boxes retreated back towards the main chamber, a slow smile spread across Clara's face. This really was turning out to be fun, wasn't it?
It wasn't long before Vyrm'n disappeared behind the advancing pair, and not much longer than that before the sounds of Konka Rar's dismemberment faded too. All that remained was the creak of living rock, the gentle hiss of years, and the bubbling voice of Clara as she told the story of her possessor's battle; words flowed endlessly over the schrotgolem as it followed her through the winding corridor, oddly not accompanied by the twang or thud of traps. It seemed that it was easier and more convenient for the grandmaster to simply rewrite reality such that there were no traps where the two passed than to bother avoiding them or wait for Gestalt to disarm them itself.
It wouldn't be accurate to say that Gestalt wasn't paying attention to what Clara was saying; the golem was excellent at multitasking and was absorbing every quip and side-comment the grandmaster was churning out, but... The actual information it was getting and the near-monologue conversation it was getting it from were not at the forefront of its thoughts. It drifted down the corridor in a cloud of words, pausing dutifully at certain carvings at the Organizer's whim, but its primary thoughts were all focused not the battle the Organizer kept referring to as "PC" ("For beings most of whom time is largely a matter of choice to," he had quipped, "They sure like acronyms and abbreviations."); rather, Gestalt was occupied with its own battle and how to use the Organizer's presence to its advantage. Simply killing the capricious grandmaster was obviously out of the question: even after giving a powerful sorcerer like Konka Rar all the advantages in the world, Clara had been able to obliterate the uppity mage with seemingly no effort. Even if a head-on fight was a possibility, Gestalt doubted very much that defeating him would do any more than kill poor Clara, an innocent in all this. No, all that could be hoped to gain was an advantage or escape.
The golem pondered what motivations or emotions a being like the Organizer could possibly have, and how to appeal to them. It was uncanny how chipper Clara's voice stayed, even when she was tearing Konka Rar apart or describing the gruesome deaths of PC contestants; only for brief, rare moments did any frustration show, and even during those times it was difficult to glean why any particular thing had gotten to him. How was one supposed to deal with that kind of... person? A cloud of dark pessimism threatened to envelop Gestalt's thoughts, but the golem was nothing if not practical and kept plugging quietly away at the problem.
Eventually, something the Organizer was saying cut through the pondering and made Gestalt shift the brunt of its attention to its conversational partner. "You know, I wonder... I know how my battle is going to turn out by now. It's gotten to a point where it's not only unlikely that one of them will win, but it is quite literally impossible in all potential timelines. Er, timelines that matter anyway. I won't bore you with the details and even without a brain to hold you back I doubt you'd understand anyway, so... Let's call it short-term predestination and be done with it. Anyway! Point is, I know what's going to happen in a very general sense. It might as well already have happened, depending on your perspective. I'm curious to see what these carvings have to say about that, aren't you?"
Gestalt was curious, albeit almost certainly for different reasons than the Organizer. The two of them were in the penultimate room for this battle anyway, so it was a fairly short walk to sate their collective curiosities. As they approached the final room, the near-silence of the temple was joined by a subtle scraping, grinding sound; the source became obvious as the corridor opened up into the last chamber: one of the golems, for all anyone knew one of the ones that had been present for Konka Rar's death, was standing by the wall, dragging an appendage across the stone. Actually, through the stone; the "finger" was pressed straight into the rock, and as it moved it left a channel as though the wall were made of soft clay. It payed the new arrivals no mind, and simply went about recording whatever events its mind was telling it to. Most of the chamber's walls were blank, but the narrative of the final round was beginning to play out near the door and outwards; additionally, as the Organizer might have suspected, at the far end of the room there was a bizarre three-pronged shape surrounded by a circle.
Clara's face formed into a satisfied smirk. "I knew it. Well I mean obviously I didn't or I wouldn't have had to check, but... Your language is really ambiguous, you know that? On top of the whole clunky 'speak using sounds' thing. Anyway, yeah, this is nice vindication of my knowledge and suspicions."
"You will have to forgive my presumptuousness, but I was given to understand from some of your previous comments that many of the carvings in this place had been tampered with or altered. Is it perhaps possible that this is such a creation of the grandmaster who seeded those distortions rather than the vindication you were seeking?"
Clara's hand waved airily. "Trust me, I'd know if it was. I knew before, remember? Admittedly that was partially because I could spot the inconsistencies, but trust me, Observer isn't the guy you want to go to for subtlety. His stink is allll over those carvings, but this one's all clean."
Gestalt turned its attention to the lone carving for a few moments. "I believe you referred to this formation as Eemp, Right, and Rong previously. I don't think you ever actually explained what it or they are, however; all I was really able to catch was apparently some power over fire and water. I'm rather curious as to the nature of this contestant."
"It's a weird one, for sure. They are, I guess. Eemp is basically a fireproof straw doll. Like a scarecrow, but with no arms. Right and Rong are dragon heads some wizard sewed onto the doll where its arms would go. Wizards, right? It was built to serve as a war machine, and it was a good one too. Benelea is looking a little silly without it's biggest asset right now, especially after it went on a little bit of a conquering spree. Anyway, dragon heads on a scarecrow. Very odd thing, fun to watch."
That threw the normally-unflappable golem for something of a loop; it had expected some sort of elemental construct or spirit, not... That. That thing. Necromantically-animated vacuums and dolls with dragon heads... The winners of other battles were turning out even more strange and confusing than the contestants in this one had been. All the more reason to get out of this before it had to deal with such bizarre monstrosities. Maybe this could be the start of an appeal to the Organizer's sense of tradition? It was worth a shot anyway.
"It seems like the winners of the other battles are rather more... unique than the comparatively-mundane survivors of this one. Perhaps it would be–"
Once again Gestalt's being was swallowed by cold, its senses dulled and its mind screaming. Clara turned to the boxes the same blank expression she had worn when chastising the schrotgolem the first time, the same expression that had graced her elderly features as she crushed Konka Rar.
"Look, let's not kid ourselves here. I know what you want. I can read you just as well as I can read the more humanoid members of these little games. I know what you're planning, and it won't work. There is no escape. Not through me, not through the Observer, not through Vyrm'n. Not through anything. The only way you'll end this thing with your life is if you kill the other two, or you kill the Observer. I'm not gonna lie, I'd love to see the latter happen. Shake things up, keep these kids on their toes. I might even give you a hand making it happen; some crazy god tore up some delicate spacetime lattices and yadda yadda, point being that there's a lot of confusion and uncertainty around these things right now. It'd be simplicity itself to redirect this battle's final round to somewhere he's not expecting. Wouldn't be much on top of that to give him a good kick in the knee, too, keep things more even. And let's face it, Observer's not top-tier grandmaster material by a longshot in any case."
"But don't go thinking that just because I'm helpful and talkative that I'm on your side or that I'm nice. Or especially that I'm stupid. I can see what you and your faceless friend are doing and what you want. I go along with it not because you're master manipulators or I'm just such a fantastic guy, but because it promises to be amusing and let's face it, I've got nothing to lose by going along for the ride."
The figure that was currently very difficult to think of as Clara turned back towards the rock golem and watched it placidly carving for a few moments. "You basically have two choices at this point, Gestalt. You can faff around here with me, pumping me for information that will almost certainly do you no good while you wait for that stupid genius to trip and land on his own epee, and while you do that the Executor and some other fiddly beings are gonna reestablish the battles' network and ruin any chance you might have had to get close to the Observer. Or, you can get out there now, finish off that useless fencer, and I can drop you right in with your dear grandmaster friend."
Gestalt realized it had been some time since it had been frozen in place; for several seconds now, it was simply the Organizer's words that had held it in place rather than his power. The synthesizer hummed for a moment, then spoke. "That... Is not much of a choice."
As the boxes retreated back towards the main chamber, a slow smile spread across Clara's face. This really was turning out to be fun, wasn't it?