Re: Grand Battle S3G1! (Round One: Vio Maleficat)
04-10-2011, 10:23 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.
Jetsam's gaze flicked from Huebert to Tinten, letting a little additional pressure on Scofflaw's windpipe make up for the fact he was keeping his head up. There was a mechanically slow realisation as Jetsam uncoiled the chain on his scythe, followed by the faintest shick of metal on concrete as one slim blade found a space between Scofflaw's neck and the ground.
"He's not going to care if I kill you, is he?" Jetsam's voice was soft, conspiratorial; like he'd been in on the joke all along. Something about his smirk gave him an air of mad desperation. "Yeah. Right. I don't know what he paid you in or convinced you with, but you're all idiots for trusting him.
Except you," Jetsam snapped around to the foreman. "You're Unity, sure. But you're Vio. Definitely Vio. Yeah. You can leave now if you want. No quarrel with you, though if you could get rid of that glowing son of a bitch we'd really appreciate it."
"Jetsam-" It was around this point Huebert decided to engage in some diplomacy, which entailed unholstering the nozzle of his plasma-thrower. Jetsam himself didn't really appreciate either action - he performed a rather curious pirouette-and-snap-to-attention as he first turned to snarl a reply, then noticed the gun. Rather like Huebert himself, it was hard to not notice.
There was another dynamically unstable standoff for a moment, and again Jetsam was the last to make sense of it. The scythe was removed from under Scofflaw's neck, the bladeless handle then wafted at the right angle - above the villain's face - to materialise an especially large scythe clean down the middle of it.
"You're not going to care if I kill him, are you?"
TinTen seemed to be struggling for an answer less morally reprehensible than a flat-out "no". He could tell without turning that Huebert was armed, but had the unpleasant feeling things would get messy quickly if he moved to give his companion a clear shot.
The group's attention turned at another oddly well-heard little noise, which was Jorgensaard raising his spanner toward Jetsam. The chattering of a green bolt, too small and energy-based for the wrench to tighten, made the scythe-wielder flinch in a manner more instinctive then he might've wanted.
"Let's all just calm down," growled the foreman. "Now, if you could just give us a name-"
"That's not important-"
"Benjamin Jetsam."
Jetsam dealt a surprisingly vindictive (and painful) kick to the side of Scofflaw's head. He managed another - and several bludgeons with the scytheless hilt before he thought to knife it up - before Jorgensaard released the bolt into Jetsam's shoulder. Thrumming with the power of Chaos trapped in a piercing Unified shell, it proved obscenely forceful enough to slam the agent of Chaos into the far wall, and pin him there despite his thrashing and rather inhuman shrieking.
Even Scofflaw found it enough of a spectacle to refrain from escaping while attention was elsewhere - from the faintly smoking exit wound lanced more tendrils of green, which rather indiscriminately pierced and pinned down the struggling man in a swift-spreading neon net vaguely reminincent of a globe-trotting acupuncturist. As soon as Jetsam was immobilised, the foreman dialed something up on his wrench (eliciting another howl from the shapeshifter) before roughly hauling up Scofflaw and exasperatedly jamming the weapon in his back.
"Right. You two-" said Jorgensaard to TinTen and Huebert- "better keep it damn civil, and we might all finally get some answers."
"Are you sure this wrench in my back is completely-"
"Yes. Now please, explain what the hell is going on in my factory."
Jetsam snarled something, slumped against the wall, found being pinned up too painful, and snarled again. TinTen stood a little taller realising that was his cue, then began rattling off the facts.
"Entity called Fool kidnapped we nine from own universes; decreed we battle to death. Cuboid, Huebert and myself, the glowing magician, creature like Mahkahraik, Scofflaw, the snake Doctor, the fiery one-"
"-Tor-"
"-yes, and damnable long as it took myself to recognise, him." The Meipi jabbed a tentacle in Jetsam's direction; the man managed to turn his head a bit and growl a vague threat. "Benjamin Jetsam, according to Fool."
"You've got some fucking nerve, squidboy, tossing my name around like-!"
Jorgensaard cut the man's angry protests off with one flick of a switch on his spanner, still resting in the small of Scofflaw's back. Once the muddled smell of frost and pine smoke subsided, everyone's attention returned to TinTen.
"Fool explained Jetsam's abilities - explained all of our abilities. Jetsam not unused to travelling involuntary from universe to universe - did much before Fool kidnapped him. Changes form to suit world he is thrown into. Could not take form in Fool's presence; does not know he is now in battle with us other eight."
Jorgensaard said nothing, though he was reluctantly ready to accept the explanation. It matched up with what Tor had said, anyway. He nudged Scofflaw a little with his wrench; the man turned and shrugged in a way that acknowledged TinTen had told the truth, while trying to avoid acknowledging TinTen was right about anything.
Satisfied enough, the foreman finally turned to Jetsam, still nailed to the wall.
"So Mr. Kajan was right? You were that pangolin?"
"Let me go."
Jorgensaard seemed to be hitting his faintly paternal stride again, or maybe it was that exasperated fondness he had for Chaos in general. He glanced pointedly, but not particularly accusingly, at the grappling-scythe. Jetsam dropped it without hesitation.
"Let me go," he repeated.
"You'll answer our questions if I do?"
The assorted Grand Battlers exchanged dubious glances. Jetsam nodded a little, and Jorgensaard dialed something back on his wrench, the neon web fading.
Jetsam found his feet as he slid off the wall, coils of black smoke escaping from the neat holes peppering his coat. He sighed, rolled his shoulder a little, then exploded in a harlequin burst of golden glowing pangolin scales. The diamonds streaked off every which way with firecracker shrieks, absorbed with a discordant polyphonic ringtone by whatever surface they hit.
Jetsam's consciousness regrouped on the roof of the Unity Plant, to Kerak's unwelcome surprise. The dinosaur just watched as the man steadied himself against a curmudgeonly chimney, but flinched as Jetsam stared him down before chuckling raggedly.
"Shit, don't tell me. You're another one."
Jetsam's gaze flicked from Huebert to Tinten, letting a little additional pressure on Scofflaw's windpipe make up for the fact he was keeping his head up. There was a mechanically slow realisation as Jetsam uncoiled the chain on his scythe, followed by the faintest shick of metal on concrete as one slim blade found a space between Scofflaw's neck and the ground.
"He's not going to care if I kill you, is he?" Jetsam's voice was soft, conspiratorial; like he'd been in on the joke all along. Something about his smirk gave him an air of mad desperation. "Yeah. Right. I don't know what he paid you in or convinced you with, but you're all idiots for trusting him.
Except you," Jetsam snapped around to the foreman. "You're Unity, sure. But you're Vio. Definitely Vio. Yeah. You can leave now if you want. No quarrel with you, though if you could get rid of that glowing son of a bitch we'd really appreciate it."
"Jetsam-" It was around this point Huebert decided to engage in some diplomacy, which entailed unholstering the nozzle of his plasma-thrower. Jetsam himself didn't really appreciate either action - he performed a rather curious pirouette-and-snap-to-attention as he first turned to snarl a reply, then noticed the gun. Rather like Huebert himself, it was hard to not notice.
There was another dynamically unstable standoff for a moment, and again Jetsam was the last to make sense of it. The scythe was removed from under Scofflaw's neck, the bladeless handle then wafted at the right angle - above the villain's face - to materialise an especially large scythe clean down the middle of it.
"You're not going to care if I kill him, are you?"
TinTen seemed to be struggling for an answer less morally reprehensible than a flat-out "no". He could tell without turning that Huebert was armed, but had the unpleasant feeling things would get messy quickly if he moved to give his companion a clear shot.
The group's attention turned at another oddly well-heard little noise, which was Jorgensaard raising his spanner toward Jetsam. The chattering of a green bolt, too small and energy-based for the wrench to tighten, made the scythe-wielder flinch in a manner more instinctive then he might've wanted.
"Let's all just calm down," growled the foreman. "Now, if you could just give us a name-"
"That's not important-"
"Benjamin Jetsam."
Jetsam dealt a surprisingly vindictive (and painful) kick to the side of Scofflaw's head. He managed another - and several bludgeons with the scytheless hilt before he thought to knife it up - before Jorgensaard released the bolt into Jetsam's shoulder. Thrumming with the power of Chaos trapped in a piercing Unified shell, it proved obscenely forceful enough to slam the agent of Chaos into the far wall, and pin him there despite his thrashing and rather inhuman shrieking.
Even Scofflaw found it enough of a spectacle to refrain from escaping while attention was elsewhere - from the faintly smoking exit wound lanced more tendrils of green, which rather indiscriminately pierced and pinned down the struggling man in a swift-spreading neon net vaguely reminincent of a globe-trotting acupuncturist. As soon as Jetsam was immobilised, the foreman dialed something up on his wrench (eliciting another howl from the shapeshifter) before roughly hauling up Scofflaw and exasperatedly jamming the weapon in his back.
"Right. You two-" said Jorgensaard to TinTen and Huebert- "better keep it damn civil, and we might all finally get some answers."
"Are you sure this wrench in my back is completely-"
"Yes. Now please, explain what the hell is going on in my factory."
Jetsam snarled something, slumped against the wall, found being pinned up too painful, and snarled again. TinTen stood a little taller realising that was his cue, then began rattling off the facts.
"Entity called Fool kidnapped we nine from own universes; decreed we battle to death. Cuboid, Huebert and myself, the glowing magician, creature like Mahkahraik, Scofflaw, the snake Doctor, the fiery one-"
"-Tor-"
"-yes, and damnable long as it took myself to recognise, him." The Meipi jabbed a tentacle in Jetsam's direction; the man managed to turn his head a bit and growl a vague threat. "Benjamin Jetsam, according to Fool."
"You've got some fucking nerve, squidboy, tossing my name around like-!"
Jorgensaard cut the man's angry protests off with one flick of a switch on his spanner, still resting in the small of Scofflaw's back. Once the muddled smell of frost and pine smoke subsided, everyone's attention returned to TinTen.
"Fool explained Jetsam's abilities - explained all of our abilities. Jetsam not unused to travelling involuntary from universe to universe - did much before Fool kidnapped him. Changes form to suit world he is thrown into. Could not take form in Fool's presence; does not know he is now in battle with us other eight."
Jorgensaard said nothing, though he was reluctantly ready to accept the explanation. It matched up with what Tor had said, anyway. He nudged Scofflaw a little with his wrench; the man turned and shrugged in a way that acknowledged TinTen had told the truth, while trying to avoid acknowledging TinTen was right about anything.
Satisfied enough, the foreman finally turned to Jetsam, still nailed to the wall.
"So Mr. Kajan was right? You were that pangolin?"
"Let me go."
Jorgensaard seemed to be hitting his faintly paternal stride again, or maybe it was that exasperated fondness he had for Chaos in general. He glanced pointedly, but not particularly accusingly, at the grappling-scythe. Jetsam dropped it without hesitation.
"Let me go," he repeated.
"You'll answer our questions if I do?"
The assorted Grand Battlers exchanged dubious glances. Jetsam nodded a little, and Jorgensaard dialed something back on his wrench, the neon web fading.
Jetsam found his feet as he slid off the wall, coils of black smoke escaping from the neat holes peppering his coat. He sighed, rolled his shoulder a little, then exploded in a harlequin burst of golden glowing pangolin scales. The diamonds streaked off every which way with firecracker shrieks, absorbed with a discordant polyphonic ringtone by whatever surface they hit.
Jetsam's consciousness regrouped on the roof of the Unity Plant, to Kerak's unwelcome surprise. The dinosaur just watched as the man steadied himself against a curmudgeonly chimney, but flinched as Jetsam stared him down before chuckling raggedly.
"Shit, don't tell me. You're another one."
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