Re: The Relentless Slaughter [Round 3: Tormentorland]
08-15-2012, 07:07 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Lord Paradise.
Zimmer considered the hulking tripedal thing before him. He had forgotten its name.
“LIEUTENANT MATTHEW ZIMMER,” it said, looking down on him with one eerily focused eye-thing. Zimmer could tell that the thing—something with a V, and then a lot of nonsense, and some more Vs—was trying to decide whether to kill him or not. Its entire form shuddered with the barely-constrained potential for violence. Its voice was a scream of rage with the violence turned down. There was something primal and majestic about it that agreed with the primal, majestic feelings Zimmer was currently feeling within himself. Although that may have just been the antivirus coursing through his system, which appeared to double as a mild stimulant.
”LIEUTENANT’MATTHEW’ZIMMER DENOTES A WARRIOR OF HIGH CASTE,” said the tripod, a little uncertainly.
“Yes,” affirmed Matthew. “A Lieutenant.” He really wished he could remember this thing’s name. It was so ostentatious. How was it that he had barely seen it across two rounds?
The tripod solved the problem for him. ”I AM VUUL,” it said. ”A FAILED WARRIOR OF NO CASTE. HAVE YOU COME SEEKING THE TRUTH OF ROLLO?”
”Yes!” replied Zimmer excitedly, before even thinking hard enough to figure out whether he was lying or not. It was the sort of question you answer in the affirmative, especially looking up into that eye—that one eye that might as well have been a hundred rifle barrels.
”THEN I WOULD OFFER MY SERVITUDE,” said Vuul with barely a moment’s hesitation. ”AND FIGHT BY YOUR SIDE.”
Well. That would certainly simplify the “poison their food” plan. “I accept your pledge,” he told Vuul, trying to hide his excitement. “In the name of God and Empire, I name you Ensign Vuul. Together we shall put our foes to the sword and divine the truth of Rollo.”
Ensign Vuul knelt—an odd, spidery movement that put him at eye level with his Lieutenant—and twitched ominously at the words “God” and “sword.” If Zimmer wanted to maintain his hold over this magnificent creature, he was going to have to find it something to kill. Or maybe take him on a ride or two, if there were any that could fit him. The problem was, he couldn’t go around gunning down civilians—it would attract too much attention, and also be terribly immoral, maybe—and he had no idea where he could find the other contestants. It didn’t worry him too much. God had led him straight to Vuul, after all, and would not leave him to wander now. He simply had to follow the divine Hand tugging at his soul.
A haunted house loomed in the distance, shrouded in fog. “Rise, Ensign,” Zimmer snapped, enchanted by the mystery of the place. A journey through hell was the perfect place to begin a pilgrimage, besides which the scientist in Zimmer wanted to see how Vuul would react to repeated stimulus. “Glory awaits.”
The crusaders marched on into the fog.
Zimmer considered the hulking tripedal thing before him. He had forgotten its name.
“LIEUTENANT MATTHEW ZIMMER,” it said, looking down on him with one eerily focused eye-thing. Zimmer could tell that the thing—something with a V, and then a lot of nonsense, and some more Vs—was trying to decide whether to kill him or not. Its entire form shuddered with the barely-constrained potential for violence. Its voice was a scream of rage with the violence turned down. There was something primal and majestic about it that agreed with the primal, majestic feelings Zimmer was currently feeling within himself. Although that may have just been the antivirus coursing through his system, which appeared to double as a mild stimulant.
”LIEUTENANT’MATTHEW’ZIMMER DENOTES A WARRIOR OF HIGH CASTE,” said the tripod, a little uncertainly.
“Yes,” affirmed Matthew. “A Lieutenant.” He really wished he could remember this thing’s name. It was so ostentatious. How was it that he had barely seen it across two rounds?
The tripod solved the problem for him. ”I AM VUUL,” it said. ”A FAILED WARRIOR OF NO CASTE. HAVE YOU COME SEEKING THE TRUTH OF ROLLO?”
”Yes!” replied Zimmer excitedly, before even thinking hard enough to figure out whether he was lying or not. It was the sort of question you answer in the affirmative, especially looking up into that eye—that one eye that might as well have been a hundred rifle barrels.
”THEN I WOULD OFFER MY SERVITUDE,” said Vuul with barely a moment’s hesitation. ”AND FIGHT BY YOUR SIDE.”
Well. That would certainly simplify the “poison their food” plan. “I accept your pledge,” he told Vuul, trying to hide his excitement. “In the name of God and Empire, I name you Ensign Vuul. Together we shall put our foes to the sword and divine the truth of Rollo.”
Ensign Vuul knelt—an odd, spidery movement that put him at eye level with his Lieutenant—and twitched ominously at the words “God” and “sword.” If Zimmer wanted to maintain his hold over this magnificent creature, he was going to have to find it something to kill. Or maybe take him on a ride or two, if there were any that could fit him. The problem was, he couldn’t go around gunning down civilians—it would attract too much attention, and also be terribly immoral, maybe—and he had no idea where he could find the other contestants. It didn’t worry him too much. God had led him straight to Vuul, after all, and would not leave him to wander now. He simply had to follow the divine Hand tugging at his soul.
A haunted house loomed in the distance, shrouded in fog. “Rise, Ensign,” Zimmer snapped, enchanted by the mystery of the place. A journey through hell was the perfect place to begin a pilgrimage, besides which the scientist in Zimmer wanted to see how Vuul would react to repeated stimulus. “Glory awaits.”
The crusaders marched on into the fog.