Re: The Relentless Slaughter [Round 1: Untitled-1]
05-28-2011, 02:04 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by MalkyTop.
He had hoped that by the time the giant, monstrous soccer player loped its way towards him, he would have thought of a plan. He didn’t. He sorely wished he did, though considering there was a pair of well-toned legs coming towards him.
After running around for a bit and weaving between legs as thick as two very thick tree trunks, Samael found himself on the other side of the Goliath, which wasn’t entirely what he intended. While it was true that he was desperate to not get squished under horribly-spiked cleats, the whole point of him going up to the giant in the first place was to draw it away or erase it or something. He needed to attract its attention.
A large pineapple suddenly threw itself at one of the faces, or at least tried to but instead overshot it a bit because Samael couldn’t actually see any of the faces when he was so close to the giant. Instead, he threw it at the broad back. It didn’t really seem to do much. He tried an even larger pineapple. Then it occurred to him that, with a giant that covered in spikes, more spikes probably wouldn’t do much. He stopped fooling around with pineapples and instead went for a large swarm of tomatoes. The swarm went for the heads again, and although most missed, some still managed to hit. The monstrous David Beckham grumbled in annoyance and slowly craned over backwards to search for his fruity assaulter. Although risky, Samael stayed close to the cleats. As long as he couldn’t see any of his faces, his faces couldn’t see him back.
Unless, of course, some depraved soul happened to draw a neon green sign that pointed him out just for funsies.
Samael was only truly aware of this development when the four-headed David Beckham drew back his world-famous leg for a very deliberate kick.
Scrambling up one of the foot-craters, Samael managed to get out of the way just in time for the ridiculously large cleat to come rushing by, tearing up chunks of soil (or…white space? Canvas?) in its wake. The neon green ‘HERE HE IS’ sign followed him by way of dotted box.
The tomatoes kept pelting the Beckhaviathan as it grumbled and breathed fire for a bit. Every move it made shook off a small amount of nigh infinite supply of skulls it had. Some of them exploded nearby. One hit Samael on the head. The demon-child responded by hiking up his robe and fleeing, the neon green sign following him all the way. David Beckham wound up another kick, certain that his leg reach was long enough to still catch up. A low rumbling signified that the foot was already coming his way. Samael ducked as the thunderous noise got louder and was very thankful to feel the whoosh of air as a giant shoe passed over him in a manner not unlike a pendulum. Then more bits and pieces of white-space-canvas-soil hit him in the head and he was sent rolling. The tomatoes started flinging themselves about randomly in synchronized confusion.
When Samael managed to push himself up again, he noticed that something else was bothering the polycephalic Beckham. Something that was doing better than he was, honestly. That might have something to do with the fact that the something actually had weapons. Samael took this chance to sneak away and regroup, stepping back from the angry, struggling Beckham. The Beckham was kicking around a bit more, throwing some sort of fit. Samael kept watching the cleats carefully, trying to stay close and keep far at the same time. Because of his diverted attentions, he almost stumbled into the hole.
Beckham’s kick was certainly legendary. It could apparently kick a hole in four-space. At least, that’s what sort of hole Samael assumed he was staring at right now.
Granted, it did just look like an extremely large streak in the middle of a white landscape. But the darkness was also not darkness and there was darkness in darkness and shapes within shapes while also surrounding the same shapes and dammit his eyes weren’t really meant to look at this.
He found himself suddenly wanting to dip his hand in the hole. He told himself it was a bad idea. He looked away as he went through with this idea.
Through this experiment, Samael quickly found that dipping a hand into the fourth-dimension while mostly being grounded in the third-dimension really hurts. He almost thought he lost a hand there but no, his hand was intact, mostly. He jumped back when paint buckets and pencils flew by. The pencils fell out into four-space while the paint buckets only dumped their contents out into a hole. Without the canvas, none of the tools had any effect.
Samael felt as though he finally had a plan. He really hoped the hole would stay open, but it looked as though the Beckham monster was making a few more. Gathering up his robes again, Samael ran back towards the fight, which was getting very intense. David Beckham simply couldn’t shake the robotic-alien thing off. It had also scaled the Beckhaviathon very quickly, dragging behind it a trail of non-soccer-player-friendly damage. Samael hoped that it could still hear him. Then he actually thought about how likely it could actually hear him when he was all the way down at Beckham’s feet and it was clinging onto Beckham’s chest spikes. Samael came to the unwanted conclusion that he might just have to climb the David Beckham.
He had hoped that by the time the giant, monstrous soccer player loped its way towards him, he would have thought of a plan. He didn’t. He sorely wished he did, though considering there was a pair of well-toned legs coming towards him.
After running around for a bit and weaving between legs as thick as two very thick tree trunks, Samael found himself on the other side of the Goliath, which wasn’t entirely what he intended. While it was true that he was desperate to not get squished under horribly-spiked cleats, the whole point of him going up to the giant in the first place was to draw it away or erase it or something. He needed to attract its attention.
A large pineapple suddenly threw itself at one of the faces, or at least tried to but instead overshot it a bit because Samael couldn’t actually see any of the faces when he was so close to the giant. Instead, he threw it at the broad back. It didn’t really seem to do much. He tried an even larger pineapple. Then it occurred to him that, with a giant that covered in spikes, more spikes probably wouldn’t do much. He stopped fooling around with pineapples and instead went for a large swarm of tomatoes. The swarm went for the heads again, and although most missed, some still managed to hit. The monstrous David Beckham grumbled in annoyance and slowly craned over backwards to search for his fruity assaulter. Although risky, Samael stayed close to the cleats. As long as he couldn’t see any of his faces, his faces couldn’t see him back.
Unless, of course, some depraved soul happened to draw a neon green sign that pointed him out just for funsies.
Samael was only truly aware of this development when the four-headed David Beckham drew back his world-famous leg for a very deliberate kick.
Scrambling up one of the foot-craters, Samael managed to get out of the way just in time for the ridiculously large cleat to come rushing by, tearing up chunks of soil (or…white space? Canvas?) in its wake. The neon green ‘HERE HE IS’ sign followed him by way of dotted box.
The tomatoes kept pelting the Beckhaviathan as it grumbled and breathed fire for a bit. Every move it made shook off a small amount of nigh infinite supply of skulls it had. Some of them exploded nearby. One hit Samael on the head. The demon-child responded by hiking up his robe and fleeing, the neon green sign following him all the way. David Beckham wound up another kick, certain that his leg reach was long enough to still catch up. A low rumbling signified that the foot was already coming his way. Samael ducked as the thunderous noise got louder and was very thankful to feel the whoosh of air as a giant shoe passed over him in a manner not unlike a pendulum. Then more bits and pieces of white-space-canvas-soil hit him in the head and he was sent rolling. The tomatoes started flinging themselves about randomly in synchronized confusion.
When Samael managed to push himself up again, he noticed that something else was bothering the polycephalic Beckham. Something that was doing better than he was, honestly. That might have something to do with the fact that the something actually had weapons. Samael took this chance to sneak away and regroup, stepping back from the angry, struggling Beckham. The Beckham was kicking around a bit more, throwing some sort of fit. Samael kept watching the cleats carefully, trying to stay close and keep far at the same time. Because of his diverted attentions, he almost stumbled into the hole.
Beckham’s kick was certainly legendary. It could apparently kick a hole in four-space. At least, that’s what sort of hole Samael assumed he was staring at right now.
Granted, it did just look like an extremely large streak in the middle of a white landscape. But the darkness was also not darkness and there was darkness in darkness and shapes within shapes while also surrounding the same shapes and dammit his eyes weren’t really meant to look at this.
He found himself suddenly wanting to dip his hand in the hole. He told himself it was a bad idea. He looked away as he went through with this idea.
Through this experiment, Samael quickly found that dipping a hand into the fourth-dimension while mostly being grounded in the third-dimension really hurts. He almost thought he lost a hand there but no, his hand was intact, mostly. He jumped back when paint buckets and pencils flew by. The pencils fell out into four-space while the paint buckets only dumped their contents out into a hole. Without the canvas, none of the tools had any effect.
Samael felt as though he finally had a plan. He really hoped the hole would stay open, but it looked as though the Beckham monster was making a few more. Gathering up his robes again, Samael ran back towards the fight, which was getting very intense. David Beckham simply couldn’t shake the robotic-alien thing off. It had also scaled the Beckhaviathon very quickly, dragging behind it a trail of non-soccer-player-friendly damage. Samael hoped that it could still hear him. Then he actually thought about how likely it could actually hear him when he was all the way down at Beckham’s feet and it was clinging onto Beckham’s chest spikes. Samael came to the unwanted conclusion that he might just have to climb the David Beckham.