Re: Grand Battle S3G1! (Round One: Vio Maleficat)
01-11-2011, 09:57 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Pinary.
Tor fumed. He'd been knocked around by a huge armoured thing that he was almost positive was the eight contestant, attacked by the less massive but hardly svelte villain, and stuck in an embarrassingly feminine human garment. (At least, he'd later reflect, it had gone on over his other clothes.)
"Porter, Cobb, go help Andrews inspect the cargo and see what we can salvage. I'd like a word with our guests. Alone."
He was sore, battered, and stripped of his dignity, and he was going to make Scofflaw pay for all of it. He dearly hoped that the dinosaur didn't manage to chase down his target before he got a chance to get to him himself. He'd give anything for a chance to squeeze that gandortat throat.
"You board my ship, destroy my cargo, and hurt my crew, and now you expect a trial?"
Stalking out of the room, not noticing the looks he got from Murdoch and Tengeri, he headed for another door. A thin wisp of smoke curled through the air behind him as he went, his mind ablaze with images of holding that man close and watching him burn with him, feeling the villain's skin blistering beneath his fingers.
"No, that won't be necessary. Our guests decided to leave early."
He started up the stairs, each loud, clanging footstep bringing him closer to Scofflaw. He'd wait as long as possible, building up as much fuel as he could. He wanted to watch the villain feel himself charring. He wanted to leave nothing left for the dinosaur to eat. He wanted-
The light splash of water came out of nowhere, blindsiding him and sending him spinning off-balance. He landed on his already-sore back and stared at Tengeri, floating just a few steps behind him.
"stay calm," the Leviath wrote. "don't lose yourself"
Tor blinked at her, his mind trying to shift gears back to something resembling reasonable.
"R-Right, yes." He took a few deep breaths, trying to reclaim some modicum of calmness. "Just, ah... Just a minute, I should be fine."
"you should stay and keep watch"
"No, no." Tor's thoughts were starting to reorder themselves, and one priority stood out. "I can't stay, I have to do this."
"vengeance is never wise"
"Like kre- No, sorry, you're right. That's irrelevant, though. This, this isn't vengeance- there's something else I need to do besides settle with that trentoalil."
Tengeri just stared at him for a moment, searching for the feelings she'd seen before. After a moment, she responded, "go. I will continue attempting repairs"
Nodding to her, Tor stood and started quickly up the stairs, his pace quicker but his stance less rigid.
Watching him go, the Leviath reopened her record for GB-004.
Subject's emotional state potentially unstable, she added. Observe carefully.
-
Tor was still moving with purpose, but thanks to the Leviath's reminder, it was a much different one. The floor, walls, and occasionally ceiling were marked fairly clearly, his path highlighted before him by the scratches in the concrete.
At the very least, he needs to know the truth, Tor thought. If he's any more identifiable in the next place, Scofflaw will definitely try and take advantage of him. With that Hal, I don't think Jetsam's going to be a pushover when it comes to surviving, but if Scofflaw gets his hooks into him, he could be a seriously dangerous enemy.
(For a moment, something niggled at Tor, a tiny little something in the back of his mind. He knew he remembered Scofflaw from his cultural studies, but he couldn't quite put his finger on where he remembered him from.)
And besides, he deserves the truth. From the sounds of it, he's been going from dimension to dimension for ages, and this would just be the next one in line. He should at least have some warning- it's only right.
Moving at a decent clip, Tor continued following the telltale signs of the pangolin's passage. Soon, though, a flash of light out a window caught his eye.
Tor looked out, sighed, and took stock. Whoever that was shooting at Jetsam, he found it unlikely that they'd be willing to stop for a moment while he kindly explained to the "prickly bloody anteater" that it had been torn out of its previous cycle of moving between universes and into a whole new one. It didn't take long for him to come up with something of a plan.
-
Still somewhat scrabbling his way in an arc around the hangar, Benjamin noticed neither the second-floor window overlooking the hangar open nor the figure fall from it. Similarly, he didn't notice the crunch of wooden crates breaking the figure's fall.
He did, however, notice the sudden burst of flame on the other side of the hangar, an hours'-worth of Telpori-Hal toxin going up at once and setting the wooden crates ablaze.
Jorgensaard noticed as well, jerking his head around to see two months of cheap surplus rations going up in smoke.
Tor, amid the flames, rolled his neck once before stepping out and forward. No more sore back, no more scrapes, no more dorti dress.
Jorgensaard was appropriately nonplussed. A brown-skinned man was walking out of a fireball unscathed, clothes glowing red and short-cropped hair gleaming, metallic silver. What's worse, he was approaching Jorgensaard himself, looking rather angry as he did.
"This facility," Tor next-to-shouted, "is facing a critical collapse! I come here to see what can be done, and I find you trying to shoot a bleedin' anteater instead of getting it running again! What the hell kind of show do you think you're running here?!"
Tor fumed. He'd been knocked around by a huge armoured thing that he was almost positive was the eight contestant, attacked by the less massive but hardly svelte villain, and stuck in an embarrassingly feminine human garment. (At least, he'd later reflect, it had gone on over his other clothes.)
"Porter, Cobb, go help Andrews inspect the cargo and see what we can salvage. I'd like a word with our guests. Alone."
He was sore, battered, and stripped of his dignity, and he was going to make Scofflaw pay for all of it. He dearly hoped that the dinosaur didn't manage to chase down his target before he got a chance to get to him himself. He'd give anything for a chance to squeeze that gandortat throat.
"You board my ship, destroy my cargo, and hurt my crew, and now you expect a trial?"
Stalking out of the room, not noticing the looks he got from Murdoch and Tengeri, he headed for another door. A thin wisp of smoke curled through the air behind him as he went, his mind ablaze with images of holding that man close and watching him burn with him, feeling the villain's skin blistering beneath his fingers.
"No, that won't be necessary. Our guests decided to leave early."
He started up the stairs, each loud, clanging footstep bringing him closer to Scofflaw. He'd wait as long as possible, building up as much fuel as he could. He wanted to watch the villain feel himself charring. He wanted to leave nothing left for the dinosaur to eat. He wanted-
The light splash of water came out of nowhere, blindsiding him and sending him spinning off-balance. He landed on his already-sore back and stared at Tengeri, floating just a few steps behind him.
"stay calm," the Leviath wrote. "don't lose yourself"
Tor blinked at her, his mind trying to shift gears back to something resembling reasonable.
"R-Right, yes." He took a few deep breaths, trying to reclaim some modicum of calmness. "Just, ah... Just a minute, I should be fine."
"you should stay and keep watch"
"No, no." Tor's thoughts were starting to reorder themselves, and one priority stood out. "I can't stay, I have to do this."
"vengeance is never wise"
"Like kre- No, sorry, you're right. That's irrelevant, though. This, this isn't vengeance- there's something else I need to do besides settle with that trentoalil."
Tengeri just stared at him for a moment, searching for the feelings she'd seen before. After a moment, she responded, "go. I will continue attempting repairs"
Nodding to her, Tor stood and started quickly up the stairs, his pace quicker but his stance less rigid.
Watching him go, the Leviath reopened her record for GB-004.
Subject's emotional state potentially unstable, she added. Observe carefully.
-
Tor was still moving with purpose, but thanks to the Leviath's reminder, it was a much different one. The floor, walls, and occasionally ceiling were marked fairly clearly, his path highlighted before him by the scratches in the concrete.
At the very least, he needs to know the truth, Tor thought. If he's any more identifiable in the next place, Scofflaw will definitely try and take advantage of him. With that Hal, I don't think Jetsam's going to be a pushover when it comes to surviving, but if Scofflaw gets his hooks into him, he could be a seriously dangerous enemy.
(For a moment, something niggled at Tor, a tiny little something in the back of his mind. He knew he remembered Scofflaw from his cultural studies, but he couldn't quite put his finger on where he remembered him from.)
And besides, he deserves the truth. From the sounds of it, he's been going from dimension to dimension for ages, and this would just be the next one in line. He should at least have some warning- it's only right.
Moving at a decent clip, Tor continued following the telltale signs of the pangolin's passage. Soon, though, a flash of light out a window caught his eye.
Tor looked out, sighed, and took stock. Whoever that was shooting at Jetsam, he found it unlikely that they'd be willing to stop for a moment while he kindly explained to the "prickly bloody anteater" that it had been torn out of its previous cycle of moving between universes and into a whole new one. It didn't take long for him to come up with something of a plan.
-
Still somewhat scrabbling his way in an arc around the hangar, Benjamin noticed neither the second-floor window overlooking the hangar open nor the figure fall from it. Similarly, he didn't notice the crunch of wooden crates breaking the figure's fall.
He did, however, notice the sudden burst of flame on the other side of the hangar, an hours'-worth of Telpori-Hal toxin going up at once and setting the wooden crates ablaze.
Jorgensaard noticed as well, jerking his head around to see two months of cheap surplus rations going up in smoke.
Tor, amid the flames, rolled his neck once before stepping out and forward. No more sore back, no more scrapes, no more dorti dress.
Jorgensaard was appropriately nonplussed. A brown-skinned man was walking out of a fireball unscathed, clothes glowing red and short-cropped hair gleaming, metallic silver. What's worse, he was approaching Jorgensaard himself, looking rather angry as he did.
"This facility," Tor next-to-shouted, "is facing a critical collapse! I come here to see what can be done, and I find you trying to shoot a bleedin' anteater instead of getting it running again! What the hell kind of show do you think you're running here?!"