Re: Grand Battle S3G1! (Round One: Vio Maleficat)
02-24-2011, 02:04 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.
Down down down.
The air was damper than the rock, ignoring the latter's slick coat of moss and condensation, and Jetsam tasted it all clear as day as he loped along on slender legs. The only sound was that of water - delicious water, trickling ever downward round his feet, and - less overtly - permeating the air with an ambient prickle as it wormed its way into the rock.
Jetsam kept up his steady hike, down down down, unnerved by the way the trickle of water would sometimes stop, or even flow toward rather than behind him. Then he must've gone just so far, or perhaps so deep - out of the reach of Unity's bastion, into the Chaos, the convoluted, the dark corner blackened with potential - and to Jetsam's surprise, the soundscape of damp was interrupted by his rasping laughter. Unity had been so oppressive, so unwelcoming, that Benjamin had only seen the worst this world had to offer. The darkness, which Unity's agents would try to tear apart in their blindness and fear, was relief.
His laughter subsided as he descended, but for the first time on Vio Jetsam finally felt at ease. Until the inevitable happened and he was torn away, he'd be fine here.
Chaos seemingly recognised him, and didn't ask for forgiveness when he'd been mistaken for Unified foe upon the battlefield. It didn't have to, and it didn't manifest now - merely hummed with possibilities. Jetsam's footfalls became intermittent, possibly followed by the existence of his feet. No matter. The stifling, choking layers of dimension felt like they were being gently peeled away from the wanderer, revealing something clean and raw and blessedly fluid.
Jetsam stopped. He didn't want to, but Chaos seemed to rest its gaze upon his alien core, considering. There was the faintest flicker, the briefest flash of a Varalica's glow. It was as close to thought as the Chaos was capable, but it was all Jetsam needed to know. He was far from enthusiastic - the darkness was safe; journeying back to the warzone to kill a Unifying invader risked dying. Dying meant departure before he died, and Jetsam didn't want that. Not one bit.
And yet, Chaos needed this. It saved exercises in pointlessness for the vexation of Unity. With Jetsam, it played it fluidly straight. With the utmost reluctance, he shrugged on that straitjacket sense of stability, and re-equipped a sense of direction so he could turn his back on Chaos. His only thought - his only necessary thought - was 'up', as Chaos flowed and dragged the soldier where he belonged.
The Varalica's glow set Jetsam on edge, and it wasn't the light. The generator room was oppressed with Unity, and it pained Chaos - and Benjamin. He retreated into the desert room, and pulled himself together. A form of purest Chaos, composed of his own volition.
Jetsam opened his eyes, looked down at a pair of familiar hands, and smiled. His winter coat was far too heavy for the desert, but it was lined with Chaos black, and Jetsam felt comfortable. From a pocket, he extracted a coil of cable that hadn't been there, then clicked the button on the cylindrical handle at one end of it.
A grappling-scythe blade slide out with a satisfying shiiiink. It retracted sharply, and was replaced with six curved blades upon another press of the button. A formidable weapon indeed. Jetsam couldn't wait to get rid of it.
The closed door didn't beckon, but Jetsam opened it anyway.
Down down down.
The air was damper than the rock, ignoring the latter's slick coat of moss and condensation, and Jetsam tasted it all clear as day as he loped along on slender legs. The only sound was that of water - delicious water, trickling ever downward round his feet, and - less overtly - permeating the air with an ambient prickle as it wormed its way into the rock.
Jetsam kept up his steady hike, down down down, unnerved by the way the trickle of water would sometimes stop, or even flow toward rather than behind him. Then he must've gone just so far, or perhaps so deep - out of the reach of Unity's bastion, into the Chaos, the convoluted, the dark corner blackened with potential - and to Jetsam's surprise, the soundscape of damp was interrupted by his rasping laughter. Unity had been so oppressive, so unwelcoming, that Benjamin had only seen the worst this world had to offer. The darkness, which Unity's agents would try to tear apart in their blindness and fear, was relief.
His laughter subsided as he descended, but for the first time on Vio Jetsam finally felt at ease. Until the inevitable happened and he was torn away, he'd be fine here.
Chaos seemingly recognised him, and didn't ask for forgiveness when he'd been mistaken for Unified foe upon the battlefield. It didn't have to, and it didn't manifest now - merely hummed with possibilities. Jetsam's footfalls became intermittent, possibly followed by the existence of his feet. No matter. The stifling, choking layers of dimension felt like they were being gently peeled away from the wanderer, revealing something clean and raw and blessedly fluid.
Jetsam stopped. He didn't want to, but Chaos seemed to rest its gaze upon his alien core, considering. There was the faintest flicker, the briefest flash of a Varalica's glow. It was as close to thought as the Chaos was capable, but it was all Jetsam needed to know. He was far from enthusiastic - the darkness was safe; journeying back to the warzone to kill a Unifying invader risked dying. Dying meant departure before he died, and Jetsam didn't want that. Not one bit.
And yet, Chaos needed this. It saved exercises in pointlessness for the vexation of Unity. With Jetsam, it played it fluidly straight. With the utmost reluctance, he shrugged on that straitjacket sense of stability, and re-equipped a sense of direction so he could turn his back on Chaos. His only thought - his only necessary thought - was 'up', as Chaos flowed and dragged the soldier where he belonged.
The Varalica's glow set Jetsam on edge, and it wasn't the light. The generator room was oppressed with Unity, and it pained Chaos - and Benjamin. He retreated into the desert room, and pulled himself together. A form of purest Chaos, composed of his own volition.
Jetsam opened his eyes, looked down at a pair of familiar hands, and smiled. His winter coat was far too heavy for the desert, but it was lined with Chaos black, and Jetsam felt comfortable. From a pocket, he extracted a coil of cable that hadn't been there, then clicked the button on the cylindrical handle at one end of it.
A grappling-scythe blade slide out with a satisfying shiiiink. It retracted sharply, and was replaced with six curved blades upon another press of the button. A formidable weapon indeed. Jetsam couldn't wait to get rid of it.
The closed door didn't beckon, but Jetsam opened it anyway.
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