Re: The Grand Battle II! [Round 6:Doomish Temple!]
01-05-2011, 08:17 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.
Maxwell poked his head round the corner, starting visibly at the mound of black occupying the centre of the room. Having heard Clara's footsteps and Gestalt's boxes move out of earshot, he hadn't expected anyone down the Pitched Combat corridor. Vyrm'n struggled up, attention so keenly upon the man he couldn't feign ignorance and leave. He said something, but the blackness twitched and darted forward, a pseudopod wrapping round the hand resting on the doorway.
I can't hear anything anymore the rock keeps crying of hurt and desecration
She sounded tired. And distressed. And close to tears or murder. Maxwell had no idea how to respond, the undercurrents of the Faceless' barely-restrained thought rushing torrential. Then:
Did you kill the Karmist
Vyrm'n could've punched the man across the face, and left him less reeling. Maxwell was vaguely aware that he'd tried to back away from the Faceless, if only because her black grip upon his hand had become like unyielding stone.
"I- how did- let go of me!"
The shadow acquiesced, the man scrambling back and landing on the rubble-strewn floor in his haste. Vyrm'n lingered in the doorway, both aware there was no way he could outrun her.
"Wh-what difference does it make who's responsible?" Vyrm'n made no response; the man choked out a noise that might've been a forced laugh. "There-there's a whole world of people out there, somewhere, better off without him! Never mind us!"
The Faceless remained motionless, its atomic vision too overloaded with stone-song to discern much more than the distinction between rock, air, and Maxwell. He was shaking, silence mistaken for accusation, eyes fixed on an indeterminate piece of rubble that wasn't the pillar of stars, voice choked with tears.
"I can't convince myself any other way, Vyrm'n. I did everything but shoot the bastard, alright?"
Face in his hands, Maxwell continued on a diatribe Vyrm'n couldn't hear.
"I don't - I can't care less if it was just or right or even merciful to kill him - I shouldnt've done it - I shouldnt've had to do it – but what does that matter? It’s been done. I gave a man who wanted to die a shotgun, then watched him off himself. That’s all there was to it! Nobody’s fault that it’s beyond me to see that as best for everyone!"
It was only now that the shadow grew aware of Maxwell's words, even if it still couldn't hear them. Vyrm'n slithered round the broken, tormented man, looming wordlessly over him. He stared up into a million billion stars, trapped under miles of rock. Something about it seemed wrong to Maxwell, before he remembered a jagged wall, a barren field, and an endless sky - with nothing but a rift in space soaring across it with a painfully naïve man on its back.
He wanted to get out – no, he wanted Vyrm’n to get out. He couldn’t even wish for vengeance exacted against the Observer – only for the wordless slice of night to fly free amongst the stars again. Right now, it felt like the only suitably peaceful image in his head, and in his desperation, Maxwell clung to it.
"Please, Vyrm'n. I'm begging you. Kill me.” The words carried fear, but certainty. There might’ve been a protest forthcoming, but he sadly smiled it aside. “Wherever you’re heading, be it another battle to the death or to take down the Observer, I can’t help you. Me or my catastrophic failure to raise this sword against another. I can't even justify spilling my own blood, even if the only thing I can bring myself to destroy is - well, me."
“Happy to help.”
There might've been the tiniest laugh before the schrotgolem interrupted, but it was cut off by a cry of pain. Vyrm'n stiffened, sensed Gestalt, and darted between it and Maxwell. The schrotgolem would’ve sighed were it capable, instead opting to remove the dagger from the man’s side and plunge it, hilt-first, into the Faceless instead.
You heard him.
No. There has to be-
No. There is no other way. Time is of the essence. The longer we stall, the less the Organizer can do to twist the next round in our favour.
We can’t trust it
There is. No other. Way. He knows. Your stalling is making him suffer, and diminishing our chances. Get out of the way. I’ll make it painless-
Vyrm’n quivered; Gestalt’s mind retreated sharply as she called forth the Void, attempting to drag the schrotgolem in. She reasserted control immediately, swept up Maxwell, and darted down a corridor. Gestalt appraised the blatant eye gouged above the doorway for a moment, before unpacking a few more weapons and pursuing.
Maxwell poked his head round the corner, starting visibly at the mound of black occupying the centre of the room. Having heard Clara's footsteps and Gestalt's boxes move out of earshot, he hadn't expected anyone down the Pitched Combat corridor. Vyrm'n struggled up, attention so keenly upon the man he couldn't feign ignorance and leave. He said something, but the blackness twitched and darted forward, a pseudopod wrapping round the hand resting on the doorway.
I can't hear anything anymore the rock keeps crying of hurt and desecration
She sounded tired. And distressed. And close to tears or murder. Maxwell had no idea how to respond, the undercurrents of the Faceless' barely-restrained thought rushing torrential. Then:
Did you kill the Karmist
Vyrm'n could've punched the man across the face, and left him less reeling. Maxwell was vaguely aware that he'd tried to back away from the Faceless, if only because her black grip upon his hand had become like unyielding stone.
"I- how did- let go of me!"
The shadow acquiesced, the man scrambling back and landing on the rubble-strewn floor in his haste. Vyrm'n lingered in the doorway, both aware there was no way he could outrun her.
"Wh-what difference does it make who's responsible?" Vyrm'n made no response; the man choked out a noise that might've been a forced laugh. "There-there's a whole world of people out there, somewhere, better off without him! Never mind us!"
The Faceless remained motionless, its atomic vision too overloaded with stone-song to discern much more than the distinction between rock, air, and Maxwell. He was shaking, silence mistaken for accusation, eyes fixed on an indeterminate piece of rubble that wasn't the pillar of stars, voice choked with tears.
"I can't convince myself any other way, Vyrm'n. I did everything but shoot the bastard, alright?"
Face in his hands, Maxwell continued on a diatribe Vyrm'n couldn't hear.
"I don't - I can't care less if it was just or right or even merciful to kill him - I shouldnt've done it - I shouldnt've had to do it – but what does that matter? It’s been done. I gave a man who wanted to die a shotgun, then watched him off himself. That’s all there was to it! Nobody’s fault that it’s beyond me to see that as best for everyone!"
It was only now that the shadow grew aware of Maxwell's words, even if it still couldn't hear them. Vyrm'n slithered round the broken, tormented man, looming wordlessly over him. He stared up into a million billion stars, trapped under miles of rock. Something about it seemed wrong to Maxwell, before he remembered a jagged wall, a barren field, and an endless sky - with nothing but a rift in space soaring across it with a painfully naïve man on its back.
He wanted to get out – no, he wanted Vyrm’n to get out. He couldn’t even wish for vengeance exacted against the Observer – only for the wordless slice of night to fly free amongst the stars again. Right now, it felt like the only suitably peaceful image in his head, and in his desperation, Maxwell clung to it.
"Please, Vyrm'n. I'm begging you. Kill me.” The words carried fear, but certainty. There might’ve been a protest forthcoming, but he sadly smiled it aside. “Wherever you’re heading, be it another battle to the death or to take down the Observer, I can’t help you. Me or my catastrophic failure to raise this sword against another. I can't even justify spilling my own blood, even if the only thing I can bring myself to destroy is - well, me."
“Happy to help.”
There might've been the tiniest laugh before the schrotgolem interrupted, but it was cut off by a cry of pain. Vyrm'n stiffened, sensed Gestalt, and darted between it and Maxwell. The schrotgolem would’ve sighed were it capable, instead opting to remove the dagger from the man’s side and plunge it, hilt-first, into the Faceless instead.
You heard him.
No. There has to be-
No. There is no other way. Time is of the essence. The longer we stall, the less the Organizer can do to twist the next round in our favour.
We can’t trust it
There is. No other. Way. He knows. Your stalling is making him suffer, and diminishing our chances. Get out of the way. I’ll make it painless-
Vyrm’n quivered; Gestalt’s mind retreated sharply as she called forth the Void, attempting to drag the schrotgolem in. She reasserted control immediately, swept up Maxwell, and darted down a corridor. Gestalt appraised the blatant eye gouged above the doorway for a moment, before unpacking a few more weapons and pursuing.
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