Re: Grand Battle S3G1! (Round One: Vio Maleficat)
03-08-2011, 09:31 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.
Despite appearances to narrative date, Jorgensaard was a highly judicious man. He filleted the mackerel, made a pretty chain-lightning fireshow of the eggbeaters, then after Murdoch's stunt saw fit to take pause and watch the rather unusual contingent far below. Not to say the situation was failing to annoy him - the anteater had escaped after wrecking the generator, as had that Kajan fellow - but the foreman took a kind of viciously professional satisfaction in sitting on his fury until he found a responsible outlet.
That, of course, being whichever mongrel was responsible for this mess. He had a nasty feeling it was the glowing ponce whisking the others off every-which-way. Considering he seemed to be the "magician spewing Unity" Kajan had mentioned, the feeling really didn't sit well.
Jorgensaard checked his Unity Belt, ensuring it was still operational, keeping him in one, sans-eel piece. Eurgh. That had been a reminder to not go sticking the damnable thing through the washing machine. Again. He retreated along the catwalk without detection from the generator room, then found the nearest flight of stairs heading to the ground floor. The whole situation was... unsettling. This pack of nutters had appeared from nowhere, tried to fix the malfunctioning generator, then dropped a damn pangolin on it. They were squabbling amongst themselves, they were planning and convening; they came causing chaos, but showed no signs of Chaos.
The foreman muttered darkly to himself as the door to the stairwell revealed an elevator shaft instead. A quick toggling of some dial on his wrench set it to rappel the man down.
TinTen glanced at his companion, doing some tentacular equivalent of hand-wringing as he weighed his words. “Unwise,” was the word he finally decided on.
“Oh come on,” exclaimed Murdoch, with an exasperated theatrical toss of his hands, “surely you'll agree this is a fine situation for a bunch of gentlemen like ourselves to be stuck in! It's only good manners we make our displeasure clear to that Fool.”
The Meipi still wore a look between scepticism and wariness. “God generous term indeed for maverick like The Fool. Yet perhaps fitting. Powerful? Yes. Reachable? Present, no. Conquerable? Chances remote. Said, such conclusion from knowledge of myself, of own world. You may know otherwise, Mr. Murdoch Miles. In such instance my assistance? Ineffectual.”
Tinten crossed his arms; all Murdoch could discern of the cephalid was that he was uneasy. And wordy. Huebert clarified. “Your goal's an noble one, Mr Miles, for sure. But what Tin's trying to say is, well... we can't teleport across dimensions. Or freeze a man in place. Or shoot Unity. It's kinda beyond what we know. What makes sense. I mean,” the man hastened to add as he raised the monster barrel of his cannon, perhaps a mite defensively, “sit the Fool in front of this while it's blasting at full power and I'm sure it'll kill him, but-”
“Waitwaitwaitwait. Who said anything about killing!?”
Hubert and Tinten exchanged a look. “Not your intent?”
“I- no. I can't kill the Fool.”
“Previous arrogance suggest miswording,” snapped the Meipi. “Believe 'won't' less erroneous.” He seemed to have retracted whatever patience or respect he'd initially offered Murdoch, because he shuffled over to his companion and became more preoccupied with getting a leg up onto the plasma pack. “No interest in 'rebellion'-” Tinten, despite the rebreather, succeeded in spitting out the word “-when power to lead rebellion itself laze in conscripting others.”
Murdoch could only stare at the Meipi, who had busied himself in a book of all things. Huebert muttered something quietly to Tinten the Varalica couldn't catch, but the squidman's tinny reply sounded like “Yes. I know.”
Then there was a clank, and a noise like a party-hall-sized spark chamber malfunctioning. The unhinged jaws of a wrench nudged into Murdoch's back, a stream of sparks jumping from tip to tip in front of him boxing him in, arms pinned to his sides. The Varalica kept his cool, turning as best as he could to offer Jorgensaard's murderous features his usual amicable grin.
“Hello there! Mr. Murdoch Miles, at your service. Now, if you don't mind me asking – what the hell do you think you're doing?”
Despite appearances to narrative date, Jorgensaard was a highly judicious man. He filleted the mackerel, made a pretty chain-lightning fireshow of the eggbeaters, then after Murdoch's stunt saw fit to take pause and watch the rather unusual contingent far below. Not to say the situation was failing to annoy him - the anteater had escaped after wrecking the generator, as had that Kajan fellow - but the foreman took a kind of viciously professional satisfaction in sitting on his fury until he found a responsible outlet.
That, of course, being whichever mongrel was responsible for this mess. He had a nasty feeling it was the glowing ponce whisking the others off every-which-way. Considering he seemed to be the "magician spewing Unity" Kajan had mentioned, the feeling really didn't sit well.
Jorgensaard checked his Unity Belt, ensuring it was still operational, keeping him in one, sans-eel piece. Eurgh. That had been a reminder to not go sticking the damnable thing through the washing machine. Again. He retreated along the catwalk without detection from the generator room, then found the nearest flight of stairs heading to the ground floor. The whole situation was... unsettling. This pack of nutters had appeared from nowhere, tried to fix the malfunctioning generator, then dropped a damn pangolin on it. They were squabbling amongst themselves, they were planning and convening; they came causing chaos, but showed no signs of Chaos.
The foreman muttered darkly to himself as the door to the stairwell revealed an elevator shaft instead. A quick toggling of some dial on his wrench set it to rappel the man down.
TinTen glanced at his companion, doing some tentacular equivalent of hand-wringing as he weighed his words. “Unwise,” was the word he finally decided on.
“Oh come on,” exclaimed Murdoch, with an exasperated theatrical toss of his hands, “surely you'll agree this is a fine situation for a bunch of gentlemen like ourselves to be stuck in! It's only good manners we make our displeasure clear to that Fool.”
The Meipi still wore a look between scepticism and wariness. “God generous term indeed for maverick like The Fool. Yet perhaps fitting. Powerful? Yes. Reachable? Present, no. Conquerable? Chances remote. Said, such conclusion from knowledge of myself, of own world. You may know otherwise, Mr. Murdoch Miles. In such instance my assistance? Ineffectual.”
Tinten crossed his arms; all Murdoch could discern of the cephalid was that he was uneasy. And wordy. Huebert clarified. “Your goal's an noble one, Mr Miles, for sure. But what Tin's trying to say is, well... we can't teleport across dimensions. Or freeze a man in place. Or shoot Unity. It's kinda beyond what we know. What makes sense. I mean,” the man hastened to add as he raised the monster barrel of his cannon, perhaps a mite defensively, “sit the Fool in front of this while it's blasting at full power and I'm sure it'll kill him, but-”
“Waitwaitwaitwait. Who said anything about killing!?”
Hubert and Tinten exchanged a look. “Not your intent?”
“I- no. I can't kill the Fool.”
“Previous arrogance suggest miswording,” snapped the Meipi. “Believe 'won't' less erroneous.” He seemed to have retracted whatever patience or respect he'd initially offered Murdoch, because he shuffled over to his companion and became more preoccupied with getting a leg up onto the plasma pack. “No interest in 'rebellion'-” Tinten, despite the rebreather, succeeded in spitting out the word “-when power to lead rebellion itself laze in conscripting others.”
Murdoch could only stare at the Meipi, who had busied himself in a book of all things. Huebert muttered something quietly to Tinten the Varalica couldn't catch, but the squidman's tinny reply sounded like “Yes. I know.”
Then there was a clank, and a noise like a party-hall-sized spark chamber malfunctioning. The unhinged jaws of a wrench nudged into Murdoch's back, a stream of sparks jumping from tip to tip in front of him boxing him in, arms pinned to his sides. The Varalica kept his cool, turning as best as he could to offer Jorgensaard's murderous features his usual amicable grin.
“Hello there! Mr. Murdoch Miles, at your service. Now, if you don't mind me asking – what the hell do you think you're doing?”
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