Re: The Relentless Slaughter [Round 1: Untitled-1]
02-16-2011, 11:47 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by engineclock.
Gannet rolled to his feet, clutching his wounded arm as blood seeped out from between his clawlike fingers, red on black on white... He stood swaying for a moment, filled with a sudden sickening fear. The memory of the needle piercing his skin brought another wave of nausea; barely aware of the significance of the event, he could only close his eyes tightly and try not to think about it. He’d had worse hallucinations but not in a long time, not since maybe when he first lay convulsing on the rocks outside of the Oracle’s den, screaming for hours and hours about ships and water and fire and gods and all of the terrible knowledge that filled his head. He felt himself starting to shake but ignored it. He was a servant of the Oracle, he was marked for worse things than this, surely, wasn’t he? He was. The Oracle did not make mistakes, did not ever make mistakes, did not ever make mistakes the Oracle is never wrong never been wrong everything is going to be okay everything will be fine-
Somewhere under his disease-addled thoughts the virus seethed. It wasn’t fully aware, nowhere near the synchronization levels of a core host, but it knew a syringe from the collected memories of its kind. Rapidly it overrode Gannet’s immune system, targeting the injected area: finding nothing but a few surface microbes and a harmless saline solution did nothing to pacify it. Particles of the virus itself gathered and ruptured the strange cells, instinctively fighting against any strange infections. It had learned to hate new pathogens as much as a direct cure, relentlessly defending its host against any factors that might alter his susceptibility to its effects.
The immediate threat eliminated, the virus began to abate the panic it had induced on Gannet. His usual bare-toothed grin returned and he blinked slowly, letting his hand slip away from the wound, letting the blood drip down his arm. Everything was fine! The Oracle was with him. It was good. The blood was nothing, there was nothing wrong now. He laughed suddenly, happily, and began to look around him, phantom colors flickering around the edge of his vision as the virus reestablished its equilibrium.
The lines extending themselves above him were forming into the shape of walls and other forms Gannet didn’t think to examine. All of this was fascinating! The Oracle would be pleased to learn that whole worlds existed that it had never even known about. He sniffed the air experimentally; the area had no smell except, distantly, the alien scents of the other people he’d seen in the dark room. He was suddenly aware of how still the air was; the bitter scent of the ocean that had been there as long as he could remember was gone, and there was nothing in its place, except maybe something chemical, distantly…
Someone screamed, far off, and dimly the shadowy man’s words reverberated with him: a fight? Gannet wasn’t a fighter, those were the Teeth of the Oracle, with their fangs and claws and screaming howls, they’d tear him apart if the Oracle would let them. Thinking about them made him nervous. He resolved not to do it anymore. The other people he smelled were strange to him but this wasn’t a problem. The Oracle needed to know of them and there was nothing more important than what the Oracle wanted. Gannet wasn’t afraid of them, at least not yet. He was fine. Everything was fine.
Spying a ledge being drawn tantalizingly above him, Gannet leapt for it, only to find that it was only an outline and fall painfully through back on to the rapidly materializing floor. Dark laughter echoed from somewhere, but Gannet was used to hearing disembodied voices and ignored it. What sort of world was this? Was this occurrence normal here? The ledge began to color itself in but he was no longer interested in that particular path. A passageway was pulling itself together from fragments of line and color off to his side.
Poking his head around the corner, Gannet sniffed the air again. Still nothing. He didn’t like relying on his eyes to understand his surroundings. Sometimes they lied to him and showed him things that weren’t there, though usually only for a second but that was too long sometimes, the Oracle’s blessing was of vision but not always truth, always truth yes, that was its purpose, the Oracle sent him here-
Another wave of calmness hit him. He was getting distressed about nothing. Glancing behind him- were those walls getting closer? He stared for a moment longer, long enough to realize that yes, they were. The closest one even seemed to be growing spikes out of it. He touched one gingerly and was rewarded with a faint prick on the hardened bone of his finger.
Gannet’s flesh twitched reflexively. He had a new aversion to sharp things coming at him.
He swept down the new corridor, taking in the odd texture of the dull stone that was forming itself around him. He dragged his hand along one wall, noting its unnatural unevenness. It was room-temperature to the touch and not slick with algae like he was used to, but the presence of the stone comforted him somewhat. If he narrowed his eyes enough he could almost see it as one of the tunnels the Oracle lurked in, though it was missing the dark streaks on the walls at about hand height-
He tripped suddenly, his bare feet catching on the brand new pile of rocks that was spilling across the floor. He barely managed to catch himself in time, wobbling on his overly-long legs and reaching for a grip on the wall. Thankfully the wall was nearer than he had thought; unfortunately, it was getting even closer at a pretty alarming pace. He leaned back sharply only to realize that the wall behind him was moving too- he’d be crushed if he stayed in this area much longer.
He ran headlong down the tunnel, trying to avoid the sudden showers of rocks that kept popping into existence. A pit opened under his feet, filled with massive rusted spikes and what looked like obnoxiously bright vipers, their double heads turning upwards to glare at him with beady red eyes. He awkwardly swiveled to avoid it, dancing on the quickly vanishing edge and clinging on to the wall itself, then bolted past, hunching down slightly to avoid the narrowing tunnel.
The walls on all sides began to collapse even faster as Gannet reached what he hoped was the end of the tunnel. The stone pressed painfully on his limbs and his ears were filled with the sound of grinding rock and shifting walls; his breathing echoed louder and louder in his chest as he squeezed past the rough rock, scraping his skin and pulling his arms in awkwardly to avoid having them smashed to pieces. His feet stumbled and he nearly fell; narrowing his eyes he dove for the last few feet, his calm disintegrating and he hoped he made it he wasn’t going to die there was no water here this host would not fail with no way for us to spread-
Gannet burst back out into the white light and slammed into the ground, inches clear of the tunnel. With a crunching sound it sealed up behind him, leaving no evidence there had ever been anything other than the smooth wall of fake, too-smooth stone.
As he lay gasping on the ground, delicate black lines sketched the word “LOL” in front of Gannet’s face, and vanished with another smattering of distant, spiteful laughter.
Gannet rolled to his feet, clutching his wounded arm as blood seeped out from between his clawlike fingers, red on black on white... He stood swaying for a moment, filled with a sudden sickening fear. The memory of the needle piercing his skin brought another wave of nausea; barely aware of the significance of the event, he could only close his eyes tightly and try not to think about it. He’d had worse hallucinations but not in a long time, not since maybe when he first lay convulsing on the rocks outside of the Oracle’s den, screaming for hours and hours about ships and water and fire and gods and all of the terrible knowledge that filled his head. He felt himself starting to shake but ignored it. He was a servant of the Oracle, he was marked for worse things than this, surely, wasn’t he? He was. The Oracle did not make mistakes, did not ever make mistakes, did not ever make mistakes the Oracle is never wrong never been wrong everything is going to be okay everything will be fine-
Somewhere under his disease-addled thoughts the virus seethed. It wasn’t fully aware, nowhere near the synchronization levels of a core host, but it knew a syringe from the collected memories of its kind. Rapidly it overrode Gannet’s immune system, targeting the injected area: finding nothing but a few surface microbes and a harmless saline solution did nothing to pacify it. Particles of the virus itself gathered and ruptured the strange cells, instinctively fighting against any strange infections. It had learned to hate new pathogens as much as a direct cure, relentlessly defending its host against any factors that might alter his susceptibility to its effects.
The immediate threat eliminated, the virus began to abate the panic it had induced on Gannet. His usual bare-toothed grin returned and he blinked slowly, letting his hand slip away from the wound, letting the blood drip down his arm. Everything was fine! The Oracle was with him. It was good. The blood was nothing, there was nothing wrong now. He laughed suddenly, happily, and began to look around him, phantom colors flickering around the edge of his vision as the virus reestablished its equilibrium.
The lines extending themselves above him were forming into the shape of walls and other forms Gannet didn’t think to examine. All of this was fascinating! The Oracle would be pleased to learn that whole worlds existed that it had never even known about. He sniffed the air experimentally; the area had no smell except, distantly, the alien scents of the other people he’d seen in the dark room. He was suddenly aware of how still the air was; the bitter scent of the ocean that had been there as long as he could remember was gone, and there was nothing in its place, except maybe something chemical, distantly…
Someone screamed, far off, and dimly the shadowy man’s words reverberated with him: a fight? Gannet wasn’t a fighter, those were the Teeth of the Oracle, with their fangs and claws and screaming howls, they’d tear him apart if the Oracle would let them. Thinking about them made him nervous. He resolved not to do it anymore. The other people he smelled were strange to him but this wasn’t a problem. The Oracle needed to know of them and there was nothing more important than what the Oracle wanted. Gannet wasn’t afraid of them, at least not yet. He was fine. Everything was fine.
Spying a ledge being drawn tantalizingly above him, Gannet leapt for it, only to find that it was only an outline and fall painfully through back on to the rapidly materializing floor. Dark laughter echoed from somewhere, but Gannet was used to hearing disembodied voices and ignored it. What sort of world was this? Was this occurrence normal here? The ledge began to color itself in but he was no longer interested in that particular path. A passageway was pulling itself together from fragments of line and color off to his side.
Poking his head around the corner, Gannet sniffed the air again. Still nothing. He didn’t like relying on his eyes to understand his surroundings. Sometimes they lied to him and showed him things that weren’t there, though usually only for a second but that was too long sometimes, the Oracle’s blessing was of vision but not always truth, always truth yes, that was its purpose, the Oracle sent him here-
Another wave of calmness hit him. He was getting distressed about nothing. Glancing behind him- were those walls getting closer? He stared for a moment longer, long enough to realize that yes, they were. The closest one even seemed to be growing spikes out of it. He touched one gingerly and was rewarded with a faint prick on the hardened bone of his finger.
Gannet’s flesh twitched reflexively. He had a new aversion to sharp things coming at him.
He swept down the new corridor, taking in the odd texture of the dull stone that was forming itself around him. He dragged his hand along one wall, noting its unnatural unevenness. It was room-temperature to the touch and not slick with algae like he was used to, but the presence of the stone comforted him somewhat. If he narrowed his eyes enough he could almost see it as one of the tunnels the Oracle lurked in, though it was missing the dark streaks on the walls at about hand height-
He tripped suddenly, his bare feet catching on the brand new pile of rocks that was spilling across the floor. He barely managed to catch himself in time, wobbling on his overly-long legs and reaching for a grip on the wall. Thankfully the wall was nearer than he had thought; unfortunately, it was getting even closer at a pretty alarming pace. He leaned back sharply only to realize that the wall behind him was moving too- he’d be crushed if he stayed in this area much longer.
He ran headlong down the tunnel, trying to avoid the sudden showers of rocks that kept popping into existence. A pit opened under his feet, filled with massive rusted spikes and what looked like obnoxiously bright vipers, their double heads turning upwards to glare at him with beady red eyes. He awkwardly swiveled to avoid it, dancing on the quickly vanishing edge and clinging on to the wall itself, then bolted past, hunching down slightly to avoid the narrowing tunnel.
The walls on all sides began to collapse even faster as Gannet reached what he hoped was the end of the tunnel. The stone pressed painfully on his limbs and his ears were filled with the sound of grinding rock and shifting walls; his breathing echoed louder and louder in his chest as he squeezed past the rough rock, scraping his skin and pulling his arms in awkwardly to avoid having them smashed to pieces. His feet stumbled and he nearly fell; narrowing his eyes he dove for the last few feet, his calm disintegrating and he hoped he made it he wasn’t going to die there was no water here this host would not fail with no way for us to spread-
Gannet burst back out into the white light and slammed into the ground, inches clear of the tunnel. With a crunching sound it sealed up behind him, leaving no evidence there had ever been anything other than the smooth wall of fake, too-smooth stone.
As he lay gasping on the ground, delicate black lines sketched the word “LOL” in front of Gannet’s face, and vanished with another smattering of distant, spiteful laughter.