Re: Grand Battle S3G1! (Round Two: The Great Battlefield)
05-29-2011, 07:23 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.
Satisfaction. Chaos tempestuous, roiling with an arrhythmic lull like the purr of a many-throated beast that couldn't make up its mind just how many throats it had. The Unisteel shell bit back even as it rewrote the Varalica, corroding toxic into Chaos - into Jetsam - as Vio's primal energy surged through it.
Jetsam tried to ignore the sting of his armour and the toxin's deleterious effects, until he checked himself getting caught in Chaos' elation. The pain was a preferable delusion. Respite'd come shortly; the facility's other interlopers forgotten in a moment's peace.
A door slammed on Jetsam. He conceded he should've expected that, and conceded straight after he could only expect this kind of thing in retrospect. Just like he always did.
Somewhere else. Human-centric. War. With the Fool's paralysis preventing his essence from wrapping a new form around itself, Jetsam couldn't discern much more from the new locale at present. Movement, barely perceived without a body or eyes to be disoriented by it.
A trench. An unfortunate soldier lay spread-eagled at the bottom of it, the scarlet on his uniform preserved on its bullet-straight path to yellow by gravity's indiscriminate pot-shot into the melee. The body disintegrated; the same body landed lightly on its feet, scrambled over some rocks, and ran a hand over a patch of blood. Jetsam mulled over the new suite of instincts his new form was using to nag at him, before something deeper and far more worrying resurfaced.
That squidman. He'd mentioned some kind of battle. Jetsam himself, a contestant. "Glowing magician", too. They knew his name. He hadn't used it in twelve universes or so. Jetsam snatched up the gun; it didn't help his baser, instinctual worries any, though his soldier shell felt a little better for it.
Would he have told Jetsam? Kept him in the dark? Hard to say, though "Fool" didn't seem like his type of moniker. The squid had mentioned conscription, but maybe that didn't apply to all of them.
More to the point, how would he get the biggest kick out of this?
A bullet grazed Jetsam's arm; he spun around and couldn't see a soul in the chasm. Another caught him in the chest like a bolt from the blue, bringing with it a kind of blossoming rewiring of his recently-acquired mind. The Jetsam that fretted over TinTen's words, best-described as the bitter electricity that darted from neuron to borrowed neruon, could normally ignore the shufflings, restructurings, and other idiosyncrasies unless they suited him.
On the other hand, ignorance was bliss. And he'd be far less entertained by a cerulean soldier's tribulations than an agonising Jetsam.
"Glad to see you survived that drop, Lieutenant. We were afraid we'd lost you when those yellow scumbags shot you off the cliff, sir."
The lieutenant's hands barely moved to the spot he'd been struck, though it took him a moment to rise to his feet and snap the three soldiers a salute. "Name and rank, soldiers."
"Sergeant Towser, sir! Acting officer over Privates Gilchrist and Zita, sir! The remainder of Cobalt Squad was caught in Red-Yellow crossfire, sir!"
"Lieutenant Anzhi," answered the lieutenant. It sounded about right. "We're falling back to the nearest Blue outpost to relay our casualties. Lead the way."
"Sir, yes sir!"
Satisfaction. Chaos tempestuous, roiling with an arrhythmic lull like the purr of a many-throated beast that couldn't make up its mind just how many throats it had. The Unisteel shell bit back even as it rewrote the Varalica, corroding toxic into Chaos - into Jetsam - as Vio's primal energy surged through it.
Jetsam tried to ignore the sting of his armour and the toxin's deleterious effects, until he checked himself getting caught in Chaos' elation. The pain was a preferable delusion. Respite'd come shortly; the facility's other interlopers forgotten in a moment's peace.
A door slammed on Jetsam. He conceded he should've expected that, and conceded straight after he could only expect this kind of thing in retrospect. Just like he always did.
Somewhere else. Human-centric. War. With the Fool's paralysis preventing his essence from wrapping a new form around itself, Jetsam couldn't discern much more from the new locale at present. Movement, barely perceived without a body or eyes to be disoriented by it.
A trench. An unfortunate soldier lay spread-eagled at the bottom of it, the scarlet on his uniform preserved on its bullet-straight path to yellow by gravity's indiscriminate pot-shot into the melee. The body disintegrated; the same body landed lightly on its feet, scrambled over some rocks, and ran a hand over a patch of blood. Jetsam mulled over the new suite of instincts his new form was using to nag at him, before something deeper and far more worrying resurfaced.
That squidman. He'd mentioned some kind of battle. Jetsam himself, a contestant. "Glowing magician", too. They knew his name. He hadn't used it in twelve universes or so. Jetsam snatched up the gun; it didn't help his baser, instinctual worries any, though his soldier shell felt a little better for it.
Would he have told Jetsam? Kept him in the dark? Hard to say, though "Fool" didn't seem like his type of moniker. The squid had mentioned conscription, but maybe that didn't apply to all of them.
More to the point, how would he get the biggest kick out of this?
A bullet grazed Jetsam's arm; he spun around and couldn't see a soul in the chasm. Another caught him in the chest like a bolt from the blue, bringing with it a kind of blossoming rewiring of his recently-acquired mind. The Jetsam that fretted over TinTen's words, best-described as the bitter electricity that darted from neuron to borrowed neruon, could normally ignore the shufflings, restructurings, and other idiosyncrasies unless they suited him.
On the other hand, ignorance was bliss. And he'd be far less entertained by a cerulean soldier's tribulations than an agonising Jetsam.
"Glad to see you survived that drop, Lieutenant. We were afraid we'd lost you when those yellow scumbags shot you off the cliff, sir."
The lieutenant's hands barely moved to the spot he'd been struck, though it took him a moment to rise to his feet and snap the three soldiers a salute. "Name and rank, soldiers."
"Sergeant Towser, sir! Acting officer over Privates Gilchrist and Zita, sir! The remainder of Cobalt Squad was caught in Red-Yellow crossfire, sir!"
"Lieutenant Anzhi," answered the lieutenant. It sounded about right. "We're falling back to the nearest Blue outpost to relay our casualties. Lead the way."
"Sir, yes sir!"
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