Re: Grand Battle S3G1! (Round One: Vio Maleficat)
04-09-2011, 02:46 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Lord Paradise.
Scofflaw had the feeling that his options were limited. He hated that feeling.
”Let’s be mature about this,” he drawled, breathing either particularly quickly or particularly slowly, depending on who was listening. “We’re all educated men here. One way or another, we’ve a problem with Chaos, don’t we?”
Jetsam suddenly jumped against his restraints, making a deeply dissatisfied grunting noise.
Scofflaw started. “Well, those amongst us who are willing to negotiate, anyway.” He shot TinTen a glance.”
Huebert idly wondered whether he ought to attempt to diffuse this situation. TinTen could get rather… determined sometimes, and while it was something he admired, it wasn’t necessarily wise in a situation where everybody was a potential enemy.
On the other hand, Scofflaw looked like he might finally be cornered. Maybe it would be best to see this play out.
Jetsam listened in on the conversation and tried to make sense of it. There was a certain method to all of this, and people seemed to be under the impression he was in on the joke somehow. He felt his restraints beginning to fray in four dimensions. Jetsam slackened against the rope, hoping to catch the others by surprise when his chance came.
Scofflaw recognized the look on TinTen’s face. It was the same look he himself got when little shits like TinTen tried to tell him what to do. He dimly felt a second pang of nemesissitude welling up next to the one he’d reserved for Tor.
He was too used to do-gooders. These guys were just assholes.
Jorgensaard considered it common practice not to give the impression of being confused, especially when given a position of authority. However, here he was struggling. Here were two charming fellows, both of whom he would be inclined to trust immediately were it not for A) the passively detestable cephalopod creature accompanying the one, B) the weapons of mind-bending destructive power that the other seemed to have hacked together in five minutes, and C) the wild accusations leveled by the one against the other.
He tried for diplomacy, as though obviously that were the only solution to such a quandary. “Now boys,” he said, hesitating over the word “boys” while eyeing the squid up and down for any recognizable sex characteristics. “Gentlefolk,” he corrected, cautiously. “Isn’t there some way we can work this out peacefully?”
”There is not,” snapped TinTen, who was beginning to become angry at Jorgensaard on a collateral level. “Plasma bath not a peaceful way to die. Temperatures so hot your pain receptors don’t quite realize they’ve been incinerated. Continue to transmit agony for a few seconds.”
Jorgensaard held a hand in front of the barrel of the squid’s weapon. “Now, now, boys. If we’re going to threaten violence, there’s no need to get torturous about this. How would y’all respond to the notion of a duel?”
Scofflaw and TinTen exchanged a glance that was not quite accord. Then Scofflaw broke the gaze, perhaps because TinTen’s radiant hatred was frightening him off, more likely because Jetsam was kicking him in the jaw.
As Scofflaw fell, Jetsam’s scythe curved around TinTen’s gun and yanked it away, then swung it into Huebert’s gun hand, disarming them both.
Jetsam held his foot to Scofflaw’s neck. “Someone here tell me exactly what is going on,” he growled. “Omit nothing.”
TinTen and Scofflaw exchanged another glance, this one even farther from accord.
Scofflaw cleared his throat, tickling Jetsam’s foot slightly. ”Do you want to tell him, or should I?”
Scofflaw had the feeling that his options were limited. He hated that feeling.
”Let’s be mature about this,” he drawled, breathing either particularly quickly or particularly slowly, depending on who was listening. “We’re all educated men here. One way or another, we’ve a problem with Chaos, don’t we?”
Jetsam suddenly jumped against his restraints, making a deeply dissatisfied grunting noise.
Scofflaw started. “Well, those amongst us who are willing to negotiate, anyway.” He shot TinTen a glance.”
Huebert idly wondered whether he ought to attempt to diffuse this situation. TinTen could get rather… determined sometimes, and while it was something he admired, it wasn’t necessarily wise in a situation where everybody was a potential enemy.
On the other hand, Scofflaw looked like he might finally be cornered. Maybe it would be best to see this play out.
Jetsam listened in on the conversation and tried to make sense of it. There was a certain method to all of this, and people seemed to be under the impression he was in on the joke somehow. He felt his restraints beginning to fray in four dimensions. Jetsam slackened against the rope, hoping to catch the others by surprise when his chance came.
Scofflaw recognized the look on TinTen’s face. It was the same look he himself got when little shits like TinTen tried to tell him what to do. He dimly felt a second pang of nemesissitude welling up next to the one he’d reserved for Tor.
He was too used to do-gooders. These guys were just assholes.
Jorgensaard considered it common practice not to give the impression of being confused, especially when given a position of authority. However, here he was struggling. Here were two charming fellows, both of whom he would be inclined to trust immediately were it not for A) the passively detestable cephalopod creature accompanying the one, B) the weapons of mind-bending destructive power that the other seemed to have hacked together in five minutes, and C) the wild accusations leveled by the one against the other.
He tried for diplomacy, as though obviously that were the only solution to such a quandary. “Now boys,” he said, hesitating over the word “boys” while eyeing the squid up and down for any recognizable sex characteristics. “Gentlefolk,” he corrected, cautiously. “Isn’t there some way we can work this out peacefully?”
”There is not,” snapped TinTen, who was beginning to become angry at Jorgensaard on a collateral level. “Plasma bath not a peaceful way to die. Temperatures so hot your pain receptors don’t quite realize they’ve been incinerated. Continue to transmit agony for a few seconds.”
Jorgensaard held a hand in front of the barrel of the squid’s weapon. “Now, now, boys. If we’re going to threaten violence, there’s no need to get torturous about this. How would y’all respond to the notion of a duel?”
Scofflaw and TinTen exchanged a glance that was not quite accord. Then Scofflaw broke the gaze, perhaps because TinTen’s radiant hatred was frightening him off, more likely because Jetsam was kicking him in the jaw.
As Scofflaw fell, Jetsam’s scythe curved around TinTen’s gun and yanked it away, then swung it into Huebert’s gun hand, disarming them both.
Jetsam held his foot to Scofflaw’s neck. “Someone here tell me exactly what is going on,” he growled. “Omit nothing.”
TinTen and Scofflaw exchanged another glance, this one even farther from accord.
Scofflaw cleared his throat, tickling Jetsam’s foot slightly. ”Do you want to tell him, or should I?”