Re: The Relentless Slaughter [Round 1: Untitled-1]
06-19-2011, 10:42 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by whoosh!.
Ke was infatuated.
Her heart beat quickly, and her mind was dizzy with excitement and heady joy. Silently she slipped behind a behemoth of scribbled steel (the latest in her Hero's gauntlet of outfoxed traps) and stared out at his shrinking figure. Ke's dark eyes glittered.
And then she was gone, floating above the mayhem that made her chitinous shell tremble even more so than it already did. With the softest of sighs she was close to him again. The only things that hid her from him were the death traps that strained to snap shut around him, which were fortunately focused enough on this task so as to offer little danger to her. There was nothing to stop her drinking in the sight of Vulm'mram'Vuul.
And what a sight! Her Hero, her Muse, the living incarnation of the brave and the bold that populated her plethora of tales; how could she dare tear herself away from that unflickering figure? Here was something unreal made real, a godly being ripped from her most fantastical and wonderful of narratives.
Ah, those stories! Ke knew more stories than any other mortal. She had painstakingly collected, remembered, gambled and risked in the name of her art, but they had only remained words etched on silk and unfading memory. Each familiar character – tricksters, lovers, knights, gods – had never been truly known to her. They were simply words.
Except now...
A vast block of dull metal suddenly appeared beside her, shattering the earth and flinging her aside in the wake of the displaced air. Surprised as she was, it took a few moments before she even attempted to unfold her membranes and battle against the new direction. In amongst her struggle a gleaming black eye caught sight of the Hero again, swiftly fading and glorious enough to make her primitive heart ache.
The Remembrancer had asked Vuul for stories, mere words, and what he had given her instead had been... amazing. Awe-inspiring. And still he had given something more.
Under her love for her Muse, hiding beneath her sheer joy, a long-abandoned hope stirred within Ke. To stand beside a Hero would make one worthy of the inclusion in any story. And that story, like all the others she carried with her, might fade to obscurity but would still be remembered. By someone. Anyone. Somewhere.
To not be forgotten: was that too much to ask? And to be forgotten: surely that was a worthy fear?
Her line of thought lay crippled by her doubts, and Ke had no choice but to look outwards from herself. Her balance had been regained and lethal engineering lay still about her, but Ke's beloved Muse was gone.
She was alone.
Once more.
Immediately she propelled herself towards the sky, or where it might have been. Already a new emotion set her heart aflame, but these fires were born of dread and fear far from the love that had previously consumed her. Fear not of the unknown, but the scenes she knew all too well. So easily this opportunity might bud and die just as all those before it. Ke had met many people. She had loved many of those. And every single time, cruelly and intractably they had been lost to her. Some had been claimed by the inevitable Reaper, but a far greater number were stolen away by Fate: a twisting of paths that all led away from the Remembrancer.
No. This tale would find another end.
She scrabbled for height in purest desperation; perhaps if she reached for an unshining sun she would prove herself to that coldly observing Fate that she deserved this. She deserved to walk in the presence of a Hero not once, but many times. Not forever, but long enough.
In spite of her offering, her gaze was lost in the labyrinth of deathtraps. They sprawled and slouched over unmeasurable wastes, their insouciance lost to the tinge of bitter death that poisoned their appearance and purpose. In spite of her position above this private hell, the movement of a triumphant Muse was stolen and concealed within the movement of those acerbic servants of Reaper and Tormentor both.
Wherever Ke looked, the traps sprung, slashed and smashed. The fleeting figure of Vulm'mram'Vuul had no hope of being found among them.
No!
Ke batted aside her flourishing panic and flew. Clinging to the memory of his vanishing form she darted over the landscape, the sketched machinations of the Tormentor flashing by. It was, however, only when the arachnid paused to gather her breath and her thoughts that the lethal flash of metal caught her eyes. It should not have stood out to her, buried among the other gleams of the deathtraps as it was, but perhaps Fate smiled upon her this once.
It was her misfortune that the Tormentor should smile just as wide.
But Ke did not think of the Tormentor. She thought of nothing but the owner of that glinting metal, her beloved Vulm'mram'Vuul. In such blessed ignorance she swam through the air towards him, labouring less so that he might see her, more so that she might see him. Her bliss afforded her a little hope.
Hope that the Tormentor was more than happy to rip away with a sketch of a fan.
An electrical fan was all it was, suspended in the air. It was very simple.
Devastatingly so.
Mere moments from being reunited with her bitterly sought Muse, a spider as light as a sheet of paper met a gust of air from that very fan. Even the weakest of such similar contraptions would have served to swiftly unravel the treasured progress she had made towards her beloved, but this very fan was made certain to be bafflingly powerful. In one moment Ke had gone from a heart full of hopes to a stranglehold of hopelessness as she shot away from her one heart's desire with all the force of a bullet from a gun. No membranes would help her here, unless she wished to have them torn from her just as cruelly as her hopes.
A wretched scream as ethereal as the spider herself burst free of her, but it was useless. There was no one to hear but the one who enjoyed the sound.
When the forces acted upon Ke eased enough for her to consider herself free, she was far from where she had begun. But she was not far from something. There were many such somethings in the vicinity that might have interested her a rather large degree were she not so distraught.
As it was she could only survey them with a cold stare and an uncaring heart.
Across the way was an impressively large ramp. That, however, was not the point of interest. Clustered underneath it were five individuals of varying shapes, but even that was not what would have drawn a happy Ke to the sight like a moth to a flame.
All five of them stood around like the characters of a scandalous tableau, only the movement in their fixed positions breaking the illusion.
In the centre of it all were the classic Lovers, aptly the centrepiece of any story and thus were well placed. Passion was their sphere, burning them from the inside as they held each other. Slightly to the side was the Prophet, or perhaps the Veteran. From his tortured stance it would be obvious to all that he burned too, but he felt only pain without the joy or love of the couple beside him.
The roles of the other two in this mysterious story were far more shadowy. They were further still from the heart of the scene, staring out beyond the enclosed confines of the ramp. One was not even humanoid. All the same, they seemed to be Watchmen or Guardians, which were lesser if still important roles in a tale.
Ke watched for a little while, but her attention soon dropped away. Then she floated up, without plan or direction. She didn't care about these people she knew only faintly and in passing. Perhaps she should do. Perhaps not.
Likewise, when her drifting later presented with her with another humanoid figure she ignored him to sulk. If not for her sullen stubbornness in ignoring the outside world she would never have come to a halt anywhere near this strange person. As it was her long legs caught upon the ground, perhaps in a rip or a ditch, and left her scrabbling for a foothold. Ke still resolutely pretended the person did not exist. He, unfortunately, seemed to have more social ideas.
“Oh, hey. You're the spider – uh, Ke? Was that it?”
She slid into an awkward if stable stance and stared at him coldly. He visibly drooped, but just a little.
“I guess not. Sorry.” He gestured wildly over to his left and stared over in his chosen direction, awkwardly retracting eye contact.
For whatever reason, Ke followed his gaze and stared also.
And then, but only then, did she fully realise the landscape of the situation. The monstrous giant, the mysterious tears in the blank canvas of their world, and, most importantly, the Muse doing battle against the goliath. She decided to reconsider her situation.
“Your name is Samuel Corson, correct?”
The man swung around, a little surprised. “Yeah, it is.”
Ke lifted herself up into a more comfortable position and dipped her head briefly.
“I apologise for my rudeness, Mr Corson. My name is indeed Ke. It is good to meet you.”
Mr Corson seemed to have been caught slightly off guard, and muttered something about it being fine. He started to turn back to the four-headed giant tearing the land, but hesitated, held back by manners. Ke quickly stepped forward and spoke again.
“Tell me, Mr Corson – what are your intentions?”
“Pardon?”
“Why are you not with the others?”
“Oh, right.” He briefly gestured towards the towered monstrosity again. “I was thinking-”
“You could destroy it?”
“Yeah, I guess. Or get rid of it. Whatever works. These... rip things, they look like they could hold it if it fell in.”
“Oh?” Ke scuttled over to the edge of the harsh darkness, and peered over the edge. “I see.”
“Yeah.”
Silence fell once more over the two of them, but it was at least a little more comfortable. Ke walked around Samael for a few seconds, examining him. She made a curious noise and leaped, stopping to hover just behind the teenager.
“Good sir, exactly how heavy are you?”
Before he could possibly reply, she had hooked him beneath the armpits and lifted him up a couple of feet. Emboldened by her success and not at all daunted by Mr Corson's protests, she shot up a few more metres and hummed to herself in a satisfied manner.
“Hey! What are you doing?”
“Why, Mr Corson,” she replied, curling in her head slightly so a few of her eyes met his, “I am helping you. You wanted to take down the colossus, and I dare say you're not achieving much down here. And so I lift you up to the giant, and we both get what we want.”
Happy that he at least understood the terms of this deal even if he did not agree, Ke trilled cheerfully and swooped towards the looming giant.
Ke was infatuated.
Her heart beat quickly, and her mind was dizzy with excitement and heady joy. Silently she slipped behind a behemoth of scribbled steel (the latest in her Hero's gauntlet of outfoxed traps) and stared out at his shrinking figure. Ke's dark eyes glittered.
And then she was gone, floating above the mayhem that made her chitinous shell tremble even more so than it already did. With the softest of sighs she was close to him again. The only things that hid her from him were the death traps that strained to snap shut around him, which were fortunately focused enough on this task so as to offer little danger to her. There was nothing to stop her drinking in the sight of Vulm'mram'Vuul.
And what a sight! Her Hero, her Muse, the living incarnation of the brave and the bold that populated her plethora of tales; how could she dare tear herself away from that unflickering figure? Here was something unreal made real, a godly being ripped from her most fantastical and wonderful of narratives.
Ah, those stories! Ke knew more stories than any other mortal. She had painstakingly collected, remembered, gambled and risked in the name of her art, but they had only remained words etched on silk and unfading memory. Each familiar character – tricksters, lovers, knights, gods – had never been truly known to her. They were simply words.
Except now...
A vast block of dull metal suddenly appeared beside her, shattering the earth and flinging her aside in the wake of the displaced air. Surprised as she was, it took a few moments before she even attempted to unfold her membranes and battle against the new direction. In amongst her struggle a gleaming black eye caught sight of the Hero again, swiftly fading and glorious enough to make her primitive heart ache.
The Remembrancer had asked Vuul for stories, mere words, and what he had given her instead had been... amazing. Awe-inspiring. And still he had given something more.
Under her love for her Muse, hiding beneath her sheer joy, a long-abandoned hope stirred within Ke. To stand beside a Hero would make one worthy of the inclusion in any story. And that story, like all the others she carried with her, might fade to obscurity but would still be remembered. By someone. Anyone. Somewhere.
To not be forgotten: was that too much to ask? And to be forgotten: surely that was a worthy fear?
Her line of thought lay crippled by her doubts, and Ke had no choice but to look outwards from herself. Her balance had been regained and lethal engineering lay still about her, but Ke's beloved Muse was gone.
She was alone.
Once more.
Immediately she propelled herself towards the sky, or where it might have been. Already a new emotion set her heart aflame, but these fires were born of dread and fear far from the love that had previously consumed her. Fear not of the unknown, but the scenes she knew all too well. So easily this opportunity might bud and die just as all those before it. Ke had met many people. She had loved many of those. And every single time, cruelly and intractably they had been lost to her. Some had been claimed by the inevitable Reaper, but a far greater number were stolen away by Fate: a twisting of paths that all led away from the Remembrancer.
No. This tale would find another end.
She scrabbled for height in purest desperation; perhaps if she reached for an unshining sun she would prove herself to that coldly observing Fate that she deserved this. She deserved to walk in the presence of a Hero not once, but many times. Not forever, but long enough.
In spite of her offering, her gaze was lost in the labyrinth of deathtraps. They sprawled and slouched over unmeasurable wastes, their insouciance lost to the tinge of bitter death that poisoned their appearance and purpose. In spite of her position above this private hell, the movement of a triumphant Muse was stolen and concealed within the movement of those acerbic servants of Reaper and Tormentor both.
Wherever Ke looked, the traps sprung, slashed and smashed. The fleeting figure of Vulm'mram'Vuul had no hope of being found among them.
No!
Ke batted aside her flourishing panic and flew. Clinging to the memory of his vanishing form she darted over the landscape, the sketched machinations of the Tormentor flashing by. It was, however, only when the arachnid paused to gather her breath and her thoughts that the lethal flash of metal caught her eyes. It should not have stood out to her, buried among the other gleams of the deathtraps as it was, but perhaps Fate smiled upon her this once.
It was her misfortune that the Tormentor should smile just as wide.
But Ke did not think of the Tormentor. She thought of nothing but the owner of that glinting metal, her beloved Vulm'mram'Vuul. In such blessed ignorance she swam through the air towards him, labouring less so that he might see her, more so that she might see him. Her bliss afforded her a little hope.
Hope that the Tormentor was more than happy to rip away with a sketch of a fan.
An electrical fan was all it was, suspended in the air. It was very simple.
Devastatingly so.
Mere moments from being reunited with her bitterly sought Muse, a spider as light as a sheet of paper met a gust of air from that very fan. Even the weakest of such similar contraptions would have served to swiftly unravel the treasured progress she had made towards her beloved, but this very fan was made certain to be bafflingly powerful. In one moment Ke had gone from a heart full of hopes to a stranglehold of hopelessness as she shot away from her one heart's desire with all the force of a bullet from a gun. No membranes would help her here, unless she wished to have them torn from her just as cruelly as her hopes.
A wretched scream as ethereal as the spider herself burst free of her, but it was useless. There was no one to hear but the one who enjoyed the sound.
When the forces acted upon Ke eased enough for her to consider herself free, she was far from where she had begun. But she was not far from something. There were many such somethings in the vicinity that might have interested her a rather large degree were she not so distraught.
As it was she could only survey them with a cold stare and an uncaring heart.
Across the way was an impressively large ramp. That, however, was not the point of interest. Clustered underneath it were five individuals of varying shapes, but even that was not what would have drawn a happy Ke to the sight like a moth to a flame.
All five of them stood around like the characters of a scandalous tableau, only the movement in their fixed positions breaking the illusion.
In the centre of it all were the classic Lovers, aptly the centrepiece of any story and thus were well placed. Passion was their sphere, burning them from the inside as they held each other. Slightly to the side was the Prophet, or perhaps the Veteran. From his tortured stance it would be obvious to all that he burned too, but he felt only pain without the joy or love of the couple beside him.
The roles of the other two in this mysterious story were far more shadowy. They were further still from the heart of the scene, staring out beyond the enclosed confines of the ramp. One was not even humanoid. All the same, they seemed to be Watchmen or Guardians, which were lesser if still important roles in a tale.
Ke watched for a little while, but her attention soon dropped away. Then she floated up, without plan or direction. She didn't care about these people she knew only faintly and in passing. Perhaps she should do. Perhaps not.
Likewise, when her drifting later presented with her with another humanoid figure she ignored him to sulk. If not for her sullen stubbornness in ignoring the outside world she would never have come to a halt anywhere near this strange person. As it was her long legs caught upon the ground, perhaps in a rip or a ditch, and left her scrabbling for a foothold. Ke still resolutely pretended the person did not exist. He, unfortunately, seemed to have more social ideas.
“Oh, hey. You're the spider – uh, Ke? Was that it?”
She slid into an awkward if stable stance and stared at him coldly. He visibly drooped, but just a little.
“I guess not. Sorry.” He gestured wildly over to his left and stared over in his chosen direction, awkwardly retracting eye contact.
For whatever reason, Ke followed his gaze and stared also.
And then, but only then, did she fully realise the landscape of the situation. The monstrous giant, the mysterious tears in the blank canvas of their world, and, most importantly, the Muse doing battle against the goliath. She decided to reconsider her situation.
“Your name is Samuel Corson, correct?”
The man swung around, a little surprised. “Yeah, it is.”
Ke lifted herself up into a more comfortable position and dipped her head briefly.
“I apologise for my rudeness, Mr Corson. My name is indeed Ke. It is good to meet you.”
Mr Corson seemed to have been caught slightly off guard, and muttered something about it being fine. He started to turn back to the four-headed giant tearing the land, but hesitated, held back by manners. Ke quickly stepped forward and spoke again.
“Tell me, Mr Corson – what are your intentions?”
“Pardon?”
“Why are you not with the others?”
“Oh, right.” He briefly gestured towards the towered monstrosity again. “I was thinking-”
“You could destroy it?”
“Yeah, I guess. Or get rid of it. Whatever works. These... rip things, they look like they could hold it if it fell in.”
“Oh?” Ke scuttled over to the edge of the harsh darkness, and peered over the edge. “I see.”
“Yeah.”
Silence fell once more over the two of them, but it was at least a little more comfortable. Ke walked around Samael for a few seconds, examining him. She made a curious noise and leaped, stopping to hover just behind the teenager.
“Good sir, exactly how heavy are you?”
Before he could possibly reply, she had hooked him beneath the armpits and lifted him up a couple of feet. Emboldened by her success and not at all daunted by Mr Corson's protests, she shot up a few more metres and hummed to herself in a satisfied manner.
“Hey! What are you doing?”
“Why, Mr Corson,” she replied, curling in her head slightly so a few of her eyes met his, “I am helping you. You wanted to take down the colossus, and I dare say you're not achieving much down here. And so I lift you up to the giant, and we both get what we want.”
Happy that he at least understood the terms of this deal even if he did not agree, Ke trilled cheerfully and swooped towards the looming giant.