Re: The Grand Battle II! [Round 6:Doomish Temple!]
04-05-2011, 08:48 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.
The doorhandle's click was less a retort, and more a nervous interruption which was swiftly swallowed by the mist. Paris seemed to reach out into it as he shuffled blindly along ahead of Vyrm'n, until by accident or measured steps he stopped in the circular room's centre. His questionable gaze snapped around again to the Faceless, who returned it with sullen mistrust.
Vyrm'n glanced around, noting the uncertain, intermittent flickers of consciousness in the deeper recesses of the chamber. Whoever was there didn't seem to be all that there. She shivered, and turned as one with her guide at a grunt and startled snarl.
The creature responsible, cowled in a cloak with shadows a little too deep to conform to logic, scrambled to its feet and stomped out of the shadows to accost the pair. The mist moved differently around him, coiling semi-tangible as though it jostled to be close. It scattered like breath on a cold morning as he snarled at the black-clad man.
"You! The hell d'you think you're doing, waltzing in here with that Entropic like you own the-"
The man spluttered to a halt, dspite Paris' lack of response. At most, there might've been a twitch of the head, but certainly no animosity. With an impotent growl, the figure took a step back, then turned smartly and headed for the door.
"Forget it. I was leaving anyway."
Silence. Only when the slam of the door faded did the glassblower move, one hand raised to his mask, the other jabbed at the door. The mist entwined round Paris as well, congregating about his exposed hands, rendering them insubstantial white.
The mask shifted just enough for the man to take a long, deep breath. It wasn't that noise that made Vyrm'n turn around, but a violent shift in atomic song around the man. The mist's aural tone was aligning, rewinding, obscuring Paris beneath, until someone else stood in his place. It took all of Vyrm'n's concentration to sense the original, but she eventually gave up - though the shadow of a man still persisted. He wasn't gone, but someone else stood and sighed and turned to Vyrm'n in his stead and said,
"Right. I know we had an introduction before, but... well. I'm Paris. It's a pleasure to meet you, Vyrm'n."
"Was that another homunculus?"
"Aw, yah gettin' good at spotting 'em!" Frank casually kicked aside the dismembered pile of fur (and inexplicably, painted porcelain), folded her arm back into its compact form, and jabbed an amicable finger the way the pair were heading.
"As you mentioned, they do show a particular unity in form. Is this some way of weakening the Observer?"
"Nah, if it was duck soup as that Daddy wouldnta sent me on mah own. Gotta keep it on the down-low, last thing we need's Jessie ta be wise ta our plans."
"Jessie?"
Frank glowered at the name, dealing the 'munc' a final kick before setting off again.
"Yeah. Jessie. She's tha one tha' keeps this drum beatin', geddit? 'Servah might be the pretty face of it, sure, but Jessie's tha one you gotta be scared of if yer thinkin' o' trouble. An' before yah ask - nah, she ain't a munc. Nasty piece o' work, more like. Anythin' that's been going on in this gig for ages just means she's puttin' up with it."
"So, a construct like yourself?"
"Hah. Ah wish. Jessie's closah to a Gran'mastah than the likes of me."
Frank gave that a moment to sink in, before softening the blow a little. "Course, she's still no match for tha Observah, but tha's about where she's at. Which is why I don' wanna mess with her.
Now come on. No use worryin' about her til will gotta, right?"
Paris smiled shyly; extricated one arm from its bulky, leather glove; and placed a hand which wasn't black and white-hot to Vyrm'n. She was vaguely aware that the movement hadn't translated to the 'real' Paris; though the whole situation was vaguely remniscent of the Labyrinth Field's duality, which coupled with the memory of Maxwell was just plain distressing. What's happening
"I'm sorry for the clumsiness of it, Vyrm'n, but it's necessary. Mostly because, well, I don't speak... I just don't. And because... here's the one place we can talk without Jessamine overhearing us.
Which, when I need to convince you to kill the Observer, is critical."
you as well
"Yes," Paris said apologetically, "me as well."
Vyrm'n twitched a bit at that, but kept contact. He had a labourer's hand - calloused and stolid and oddly automatically personable. Quite at odds with the eerie, silent man who had conjured it up. With all these higher powers vested in his death, I'm surprised it's not a forgone conclusion yet
"Would... would it be any easier if I told you that it was?"
Foregone? Not really
But you're not the first, so why should I believe you
Paris sighed, like what he was about to say had the potential to cause him a lot of grief. "Because... Because I suppose what you want - more than anything else, I mean - is an explanation. Facts. Instead of riddles or vague clues or appeals to emotion."
...
"So: the simplest truth of all. You're going to fight the Observer. You've no choice in the matter, now. You've been a victim of circumstance since your descent, and this is just the latest catastrophe you're thrown into."
But how do you
"Right. This I'm awful at explaining no matter how many times Jessamine runs it past me, so would you be able to follow me instead? I have it right in my mind's eye, at least..."
Vyrm'n cautiously acquiesced, to an ever-oncoming plane of the Unseen, that which had never been observed. To either side of her extended a near-unbroken line of light, composed of a billion trillion points of consciousness, rushing perpetually forward in unison into the as-yet unObserved, unfettered future - perceiving the multiverse one infinitesmial fraction of a second at a time.
She turned, or perhaps Paris did and Vyrm'n simply followed, to take in the almost-as-infinite past. The plane on this side was liberally scarred by the present which had marched across it, almost fully lit with all the moments it had been witnessed.
Almost. At some points in time and space, whole patches had gone unobserved, creating gaps in the sea of light. More commonly, it was a lone point or a thin stripe of the Unseen - barely noticable, yet impacting clearly when viewed from afar.
Paris called his companion's attention back to the future, just as one point broke ranks from the present and dive-bombed straight into a larger patch of Unseen past. An observer, leaving nothing unobserved., almost mechanical in the way it hole-punched the dark patches into Existence.
And then the future, again, at Paris' insistence. Now that Vyrm'n searched a little harder, she could see it wasn't entirely unlit; points of light again broke ranks from the front line and this time leapt forward, pre-determining scattered points which the marching present eventually caught up to.
A past-piercer rejoined the line, at a point Paris seemed particularly interested in. Vyrm'n could see why - from his station extended a mess of points plotted into its distant future. What's more, points seemed to conflict or contradict each other, cascading into widely and still more widely felt repercussions-
They were in the Speakeasy again, the blissful sense of being so removed from everything rapidly deserting the Faceless. The white mist was cloying.
"The Observer's death... normally, a universe with this much riding on one choice would just split in two and be done with it. But, well, in his case, one universe wouldn't be enough. The stage has been set, if you will. Twice over. With repercussions to be felt the multiverse over.
It... escalated. Much too fast. Both sides rushed to secure the future that would arise from this turning point. We brought it upon ourselves, really."
What happens if I kill him
"You don't need to know that - I could be wrong, but I'm pretty sure you've got no noble intentions here. All you need to know, Vyrm'n, is if you go and fight him, and get out alive, I'll help you escape the Speakeasy. You don't even have to kill him - I'll still help, that's a promise."
What good would that do
"You can hide-" insisted Paris, with an earnestness which caught Vyrm'n off-guard "-where nobody will find you if you don't want them to. A place you'd actually feel at home in.
Failing that, a place to recover until the Grandmasters come searching. In the Unseen."
The doorhandle's click was less a retort, and more a nervous interruption which was swiftly swallowed by the mist. Paris seemed to reach out into it as he shuffled blindly along ahead of Vyrm'n, until by accident or measured steps he stopped in the circular room's centre. His questionable gaze snapped around again to the Faceless, who returned it with sullen mistrust.
Vyrm'n glanced around, noting the uncertain, intermittent flickers of consciousness in the deeper recesses of the chamber. Whoever was there didn't seem to be all that there. She shivered, and turned as one with her guide at a grunt and startled snarl.
The creature responsible, cowled in a cloak with shadows a little too deep to conform to logic, scrambled to its feet and stomped out of the shadows to accost the pair. The mist moved differently around him, coiling semi-tangible as though it jostled to be close. It scattered like breath on a cold morning as he snarled at the black-clad man.
"You! The hell d'you think you're doing, waltzing in here with that Entropic like you own the-"
The man spluttered to a halt, dspite Paris' lack of response. At most, there might've been a twitch of the head, but certainly no animosity. With an impotent growl, the figure took a step back, then turned smartly and headed for the door.
"Forget it. I was leaving anyway."
Silence. Only when the slam of the door faded did the glassblower move, one hand raised to his mask, the other jabbed at the door. The mist entwined round Paris as well, congregating about his exposed hands, rendering them insubstantial white.
The mask shifted just enough for the man to take a long, deep breath. It wasn't that noise that made Vyrm'n turn around, but a violent shift in atomic song around the man. The mist's aural tone was aligning, rewinding, obscuring Paris beneath, until someone else stood in his place. It took all of Vyrm'n's concentration to sense the original, but she eventually gave up - though the shadow of a man still persisted. He wasn't gone, but someone else stood and sighed and turned to Vyrm'n in his stead and said,
"Right. I know we had an introduction before, but... well. I'm Paris. It's a pleasure to meet you, Vyrm'n."
"Was that another homunculus?"
"Aw, yah gettin' good at spotting 'em!" Frank casually kicked aside the dismembered pile of fur (and inexplicably, painted porcelain), folded her arm back into its compact form, and jabbed an amicable finger the way the pair were heading.
"As you mentioned, they do show a particular unity in form. Is this some way of weakening the Observer?"
"Nah, if it was duck soup as that Daddy wouldnta sent me on mah own. Gotta keep it on the down-low, last thing we need's Jessie ta be wise ta our plans."
"Jessie?"
Frank glowered at the name, dealing the 'munc' a final kick before setting off again.
"Yeah. Jessie. She's tha one tha' keeps this drum beatin', geddit? 'Servah might be the pretty face of it, sure, but Jessie's tha one you gotta be scared of if yer thinkin' o' trouble. An' before yah ask - nah, she ain't a munc. Nasty piece o' work, more like. Anythin' that's been going on in this gig for ages just means she's puttin' up with it."
"So, a construct like yourself?"
"Hah. Ah wish. Jessie's closah to a Gran'mastah than the likes of me."
Frank gave that a moment to sink in, before softening the blow a little. "Course, she's still no match for tha Observah, but tha's about where she's at. Which is why I don' wanna mess with her.
Now come on. No use worryin' about her til will gotta, right?"
Paris smiled shyly; extricated one arm from its bulky, leather glove; and placed a hand which wasn't black and white-hot to Vyrm'n. She was vaguely aware that the movement hadn't translated to the 'real' Paris; though the whole situation was vaguely remniscent of the Labyrinth Field's duality, which coupled with the memory of Maxwell was just plain distressing. What's happening
"I'm sorry for the clumsiness of it, Vyrm'n, but it's necessary. Mostly because, well, I don't speak... I just don't. And because... here's the one place we can talk without Jessamine overhearing us.
Which, when I need to convince you to kill the Observer, is critical."
you as well
"Yes," Paris said apologetically, "me as well."
Vyrm'n twitched a bit at that, but kept contact. He had a labourer's hand - calloused and stolid and oddly automatically personable. Quite at odds with the eerie, silent man who had conjured it up. With all these higher powers vested in his death, I'm surprised it's not a forgone conclusion yet
"Would... would it be any easier if I told you that it was?"
Foregone? Not really
But you're not the first, so why should I believe you
Paris sighed, like what he was about to say had the potential to cause him a lot of grief. "Because... Because I suppose what you want - more than anything else, I mean - is an explanation. Facts. Instead of riddles or vague clues or appeals to emotion."
...
"So: the simplest truth of all. You're going to fight the Observer. You've no choice in the matter, now. You've been a victim of circumstance since your descent, and this is just the latest catastrophe you're thrown into."
But how do you
"Right. This I'm awful at explaining no matter how many times Jessamine runs it past me, so would you be able to follow me instead? I have it right in my mind's eye, at least..."
Vyrm'n cautiously acquiesced, to an ever-oncoming plane of the Unseen, that which had never been observed. To either side of her extended a near-unbroken line of light, composed of a billion trillion points of consciousness, rushing perpetually forward in unison into the as-yet unObserved, unfettered future - perceiving the multiverse one infinitesmial fraction of a second at a time.
She turned, or perhaps Paris did and Vyrm'n simply followed, to take in the almost-as-infinite past. The plane on this side was liberally scarred by the present which had marched across it, almost fully lit with all the moments it had been witnessed.
Almost. At some points in time and space, whole patches had gone unobserved, creating gaps in the sea of light. More commonly, it was a lone point or a thin stripe of the Unseen - barely noticable, yet impacting clearly when viewed from afar.
Paris called his companion's attention back to the future, just as one point broke ranks from the present and dive-bombed straight into a larger patch of Unseen past. An observer, leaving nothing unobserved., almost mechanical in the way it hole-punched the dark patches into Existence.
And then the future, again, at Paris' insistence. Now that Vyrm'n searched a little harder, she could see it wasn't entirely unlit; points of light again broke ranks from the front line and this time leapt forward, pre-determining scattered points which the marching present eventually caught up to.
A past-piercer rejoined the line, at a point Paris seemed particularly interested in. Vyrm'n could see why - from his station extended a mess of points plotted into its distant future. What's more, points seemed to conflict or contradict each other, cascading into widely and still more widely felt repercussions-
They were in the Speakeasy again, the blissful sense of being so removed from everything rapidly deserting the Faceless. The white mist was cloying.
"The Observer's death... normally, a universe with this much riding on one choice would just split in two and be done with it. But, well, in his case, one universe wouldn't be enough. The stage has been set, if you will. Twice over. With repercussions to be felt the multiverse over.
It... escalated. Much too fast. Both sides rushed to secure the future that would arise from this turning point. We brought it upon ourselves, really."
What happens if I kill him
"You don't need to know that - I could be wrong, but I'm pretty sure you've got no noble intentions here. All you need to know, Vyrm'n, is if you go and fight him, and get out alive, I'll help you escape the Speakeasy. You don't even have to kill him - I'll still help, that's a promise."
What good would that do
"You can hide-" insisted Paris, with an earnestness which caught Vyrm'n off-guard "-where nobody will find you if you don't want them to. A place you'd actually feel at home in.
Failing that, a place to recover until the Grandmasters come searching. In the Unseen."
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