Re: The $300,000 Fight-A-Thon! [Round One: Storage Park!]
10-07-2012, 06:20 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Pharmacy.
Eriz had considered the possibility that everything was just one fume-influenced trip of blurry-events ending with a shadow of a shelf-plus-dragon falling on her and the moment she woke up, she was back at her planet, back to her living quarters, back to normality. Doing normal Sauthai things like fretting over armor maintenance or holing up in the workshop. Or jogging even. Activities free of distractions such as warehouses, fleshy-faced children, and giant floating demonic clocks. However, the screwdriver in her visor was simply too distracting to pass off as just her imagination.
"My lady," Telt spoke. His tone was flat and free of emotion given his job but somehow in this situation, it made him sound halfway between resigned and incredibly annoyed. "There appears to be a creature attempting altercations on the Sauthorn."
Of course, Eriz already knew that. How could she ignore the fact that there was a murderously large what-the-shit-is-that looming over her, poking around in the most uncomfortable places possible. Granted, she wanted to leave but she was kind of in an inescapable situation. It was a situation akin to a large predatory animal like a shark or a bear sniffing at your face. You want to leave but the possibility to be finely shredded into meaty (and metal-y) bits was all too close.
"OH," spoke the face beaten with the wrong side of the ugly stick. The face was also wearing goggles for some reason. "I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD."
Guillemet was not a master of subtlety. She tried but it was kind of obvious she more meant <font color="#02ffff">"oh it's a shame you are still alive. That is pretty cool and all but not as cool as being dead because your armor is really class and I would love to get my hands on it. Wink. Wink. Hint. Nudge." Needless to say, it only served to dock a few more trustworthy points off of Guillemet in the eyes of the armorer-apparent - especially since the scaly murderbeast had a hankering for her magnus opus.</font>
"I MEAN IT WOULD BE A SHAME IF YOU DIED." Guillemet wagged the screwdriver around like a bored intern in some research facility. "I WOULD HAVE GO THROUGH THE ANNOYING PROCEDURE OF DOING AUTOPSY AND MAYBE PLASTINATION ON YOU."
Eriz had never heard of the word "plastination" and would rather not figure out what it meant.
"AND THEN DONATE YOUR BODY TO A MUSEUM."
Eriz said nothing. Telt would have asked if there was something wrong but his gut-algorithm told him otherwise.
"YOU KNOW, FOR SCIENCE! IN SPEAKING OF WHICH, SCIENCE IS PRETTY AWESOME DON'T YOU AGREE. I CAN TALK ALL DAY ABOUT IT..."
And so, Guillemet did. She began to ramble about statistical mechanics, quantum mechanics, other sorts of mechanics and esoteric scientific principles that would be too verbose and scintillating for Col-Myel to care about if it were not for the fact that most of these topics specifically used her Sauthorn as an example and the creature was still, you know, on her. Apparently, the she-beast above really liked the sound of her own voice because she would Never. Stop. Talking. Ever.
But of course, this was a perfect opportunity for her grand escape.
"Telt," Eriz whispered urgently.
"Yes, my lady?" Her armor hummed to life behind the words of the artificial intelligence.
"Set to auxiliary."
Eriz shifted her position as a small laser was set on one of her spidery arms on her back. An ambient drone of wires and electronic melodies sang louder and louder charging electron to their excited states; finally erupting with a fzst and a yelp in conjunction. As Col-Myel excepted, it was soon followed by copious amounts of profuse swearing and exaggerated screaming.
"OH MY GOD, YOU DUMB BITCH." Guillemet screamed, punctuating each word with a noise that sounded something like an ornery cat in a blender. "HOW COULD YOU."
Being a Sauthai, Eriz was pretty knowledgeable in the arts of war and the execution of these said strategies. She had a good education after all. In this case, the armor-lady was pretty sure staying with this horrible creature beast was suicidal and she should make a tactical retreat. So with a kick of her limbs, she did.
Meanwhile, Guillemet realized that swearing and screaming over small problems did not endear her to strangers. It was such a small point of laser! She should not had made a big deal over that!
"WAIT." Guillemet went into air with the majesty of a plane-tank if the driver was incredibly inebriated. "WAIT UP."
---
Man. Being a fish mutant was great.
And Thize had to agree with himself. He's got the fins, the good looks, the awesome bubble powers (never ever ever forget the bubbles). Life was great. Being a fish mutant was great. He turned that mantra over and over in his mind with the predilection of a very smug dolphin and yes, dolphins can be smug. Of course, there was always a couple of these people who make fun of his condition but it was nothing that the friendly guys and gals (and of course, the sizable population of those camping outside the gender binary spectrum) could not fix over in his fan blog (semi-narcissistically started by yours truly).
"Man, being a fish mutant is great." Thize thought loudly to himself. By thought loudly, he meant he spoke loudly.
Thize paddled languidly in the pool regaling in how awesome life and his handsomeness was. The water felt so gooood rushing aganist the webbing between his periwinkle toes. So gooood. Gooooooood. Goooooooooooooooood. It was good enough to warrant a couple of aquatic gymnastics was vaguely reminiscent of the Woman Olympics Synchronized Swimming. Or again, dolphin comparisons - if the dolphin was on crack, of course.
"Oh man. Why is swimming so great," Thize declared to no one in particular. Probably because there was no one down here at all.
Just a giant dinosaur maquette casting an ominous shadow onto the pool.
"Oh man. I love dinosaurs!" Thize laughed as he backstroked a circle. "Hey man, I love you."
Being made of paper-mache and paint in addition of being completely non-sentient, the dinosaur did not spoke at all.
"I love you too," Thize smiled and decided to hug the dinosaur figure. Again, dolphin comparisons.
Of course, the dinosaur figure cracked. It was inevitable since the dinosaur was made of you know. Paper, glue, and possibly lead-based paint judging from the saturated colors. Thize was a bit of an aquatic health nut and believed in the concept of staying away from carcinogens as much as possible (you can find that in his blog). However, there was a problem larger than getting cancer from shitty sculptures.
"Oh. Huh."
Thize was not exactly the brightest bulb in the box - especially considering that his fish-mutant-schtick had the caveat of setting his intelligence to the average mental capacity of the ocean. Sure, the ocean had a lot of bright young minds, especially in the Cetacean department, but it was not exactly correlating to human-level intelligence. Again, dolphin comparisons.
However, he was bright enough to realized there was something inside the broken neck of this statue. It had runes, words, and other weird glowy occult crap that escaped Thize's mind. It was magical shit. The most magical shit. And the magical shit had said "SUMMON LEVEL 10: LAND SHARK MISSILE."
The faint sound of gnashing teeth and propulsion in the distance told Thize this was not a good idea at all.
---
Meanwhile, the lady-smith Eriz Col-Myel was passing along the jungle of shelves and various sorts of knick-knacks that seemed to plague the Storage Park. She was glad to have a bit of personal space to herself - a haven of quiet from the psychotic lunacy of things. Things like stupid amounts of cats, bloody-horrifying (and horrifyingly-bloody) rooms, and of course, other people.
"HEY."
Well, she would had been glad if someone learned to let go.
"HEY YOU."
Someone being the freaky monster-woman-whatever behind her.
"CHRIST, LADY. ARE YOU GOING DEAF OR JUST DUMB ON ME."
"What you want?" Col-Myel yelled. The stalking was making her a smidge paranoid maybe but incredibly annoyed.
The creature settled down on a shelf and swiftly folded her leathery wings in a strange triangular formation. She gripped firmly at the top, the slight crunching only further reminded Eriz of how potentially dangerous the thing-on-the-top was. Guillemet shifted and bowed her head down.
"WHAT YOU WANT?" The grotesque face on the cock of the neck seemed to parrot back.
"I want you to leave me alone for a time," Eriz snapped. "For a while. Maybe forever."
"OH COME ON WHERE IS THE FUN IN THAT?" Guillemet frowned, giving her forehead a scary amount of wrinkles.
"There is no fun," And then Eriz marched on. To be fair, she was not having a lot of that in this place.
"HOW ABOUT YOU AND I BECOME FRIENDS." The voice called from above.
Eriz froze in her tracks as if she heard a terrible truth or just a really bad joke. The feeling was unexplainable and indescribable because the last thing she wanted to hear was an alliance proposal from the creature that maybe-probably-definitely attempted to hork away her precious armor components. The creature was also the last thing she wanted to become allies with. She had standards to hold up to.
"ALLIES. COMPATRIOTS. HOMBRES. AMIGOS (WELL TECHNICALLY AMIGAS)." Guillemet stretched the entirely of her wingspan and brought them back to her sides again. "YOU KNOW, FRIENDS."
Eriz's answer was precisely how she felt. "No."
"WAIT. WAIT. WAIT." Guillemet replied in obvious disapproval. "WHY."
"First of all, you are not trustworthy plus you are a freakishly large predator. Second of all, you obviously want my armor, not my trust. Third of all, this is a battlefield. We are fighting for ourselves, not for each other. You and I are enemies. We cannot be allies." Eriz paused a bit to catch her breath. "At all."
Guillemet reacted as if Eriz had been speaking from the planet of Jupiter, not in a Storage Park like now.
"You got this. ALRIGHT?" Eriz screamed. "DID THAT GOT THROUGH YOUR HEAD OR WHAT."
"Hi, guys."
Both Eriz and Guillemet snapped back and saw to their surprise, a horned and finny fellow - Thize as we knew him by. He was dripping wet which made his clothes stick to his skin all so handsomely - if the viewers were hormonal teenager girls. However, Eriz was a armorer-smith with a strong war cultural background and Guillemet was, well, a scientist dragon. So they were merely repulsed by his appearance.
"WOAH, WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU." Guillemet spoke as she thought.
Thize began to go on a rambling spree that rivalled Guillemet's post-graduate speech on Eriz's armor. Unlike Guillemet's speech, it was more nonsensical than abrasively encyclopedic - which was aggravated by the young man's short of breath. It was almost if he was running from something. From what the two could make out of it, it had the words, "black magic," "automated weaponery" and "goddamn sharks."
"What? Sharks?" Eriz could not compute Thize's speech. "I --"
There was this noise droning louder and louder. It sounded almost dangerous and strange. And oh my god sharks with rockets inhumanely attached to them sharks with their beady eyes and snapping jaws this is ridiculously dumb and stupid and oh so frightening oh why would some complete moron wanted to create such an unnatural abuse of nature on such a dear existence oh god whhhhhyyyyyyyyyyyyyy
"WHAT THE BLOODY FUCKING FUCK. WHAT THE BLOODY FUCK," Guillemet screeched at an unnatural falsetto - which reached its breaking point as the rocket-propelled sharks broke the shelf, the walls behind the shelves, the shelves behind the walls behind the shelves, and you get the point. The point was the shark missiles destroyed an ungodly amount of things and it travelled far. It travelled pretty dang far.
Because what was left behind, was just the short walk to the Parking Lot.
---
"Bloody cosmic existentialist despair," a being grumbled in the parking lot. "Bloody stuff clogging up my cosmic existentialist despair."
The headless man in the suit grumbled as he got out of his VAN (Vehicle of Abyssal Nihilism), which oddly turned out to look pretty dang close to a conventional Prius. The man made more gurgling noises of discontent as he unloaded the storage in the back. Things. So many things. It was such an awesome idea back then, but it resulted in so many things. He knew he should had not done that. It resulted in a thousands of corpses. Space-filling, indisposable corpses.
The man only knew how high the rates of the Storage Park were.
Prices were not the only problem as he realized the Storage Park was partially collapsed and there is smoke everywhere, entropy billowing out and probably polluting nearby universes. And there were sharks on the ground, flopping uselessly as the rockets sputtered to nothing and their gills collapsed from the lack of water. Yeah, it was a mess. A mess that could only elicit one reaction.
"SWEET SPECTATOR TITTIES." The man attempted to grab and pull at his hair until he realized he did not had a hair on his head. Or a head at all.
Eriz had considered the possibility that everything was just one fume-influenced trip of blurry-events ending with a shadow of a shelf-plus-dragon falling on her and the moment she woke up, she was back at her planet, back to her living quarters, back to normality. Doing normal Sauthai things like fretting over armor maintenance or holing up in the workshop. Or jogging even. Activities free of distractions such as warehouses, fleshy-faced children, and giant floating demonic clocks. However, the screwdriver in her visor was simply too distracting to pass off as just her imagination.
"My lady," Telt spoke. His tone was flat and free of emotion given his job but somehow in this situation, it made him sound halfway between resigned and incredibly annoyed. "There appears to be a creature attempting altercations on the Sauthorn."
Of course, Eriz already knew that. How could she ignore the fact that there was a murderously large what-the-shit-is-that looming over her, poking around in the most uncomfortable places possible. Granted, she wanted to leave but she was kind of in an inescapable situation. It was a situation akin to a large predatory animal like a shark or a bear sniffing at your face. You want to leave but the possibility to be finely shredded into meaty (and metal-y) bits was all too close.
"OH," spoke the face beaten with the wrong side of the ugly stick. The face was also wearing goggles for some reason. "I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD."
Guillemet was not a master of subtlety. She tried but it was kind of obvious she more meant <font color="#02ffff">"oh it's a shame you are still alive. That is pretty cool and all but not as cool as being dead because your armor is really class and I would love to get my hands on it. Wink. Wink. Hint. Nudge." Needless to say, it only served to dock a few more trustworthy points off of Guillemet in the eyes of the armorer-apparent - especially since the scaly murderbeast had a hankering for her magnus opus.</font>
"I MEAN IT WOULD BE A SHAME IF YOU DIED." Guillemet wagged the screwdriver around like a bored intern in some research facility. "I WOULD HAVE GO THROUGH THE ANNOYING PROCEDURE OF DOING AUTOPSY AND MAYBE PLASTINATION ON YOU."
Eriz had never heard of the word "plastination" and would rather not figure out what it meant.
"AND THEN DONATE YOUR BODY TO A MUSEUM."
Eriz said nothing. Telt would have asked if there was something wrong but his gut-algorithm told him otherwise.
"YOU KNOW, FOR SCIENCE! IN SPEAKING OF WHICH, SCIENCE IS PRETTY AWESOME DON'T YOU AGREE. I CAN TALK ALL DAY ABOUT IT..."
And so, Guillemet did. She began to ramble about statistical mechanics, quantum mechanics, other sorts of mechanics and esoteric scientific principles that would be too verbose and scintillating for Col-Myel to care about if it were not for the fact that most of these topics specifically used her Sauthorn as an example and the creature was still, you know, on her. Apparently, the she-beast above really liked the sound of her own voice because she would Never. Stop. Talking. Ever.
But of course, this was a perfect opportunity for her grand escape.
"Telt," Eriz whispered urgently.
"Yes, my lady?" Her armor hummed to life behind the words of the artificial intelligence.
"Set to auxiliary."
Eriz shifted her position as a small laser was set on one of her spidery arms on her back. An ambient drone of wires and electronic melodies sang louder and louder charging electron to their excited states; finally erupting with a fzst and a yelp in conjunction. As Col-Myel excepted, it was soon followed by copious amounts of profuse swearing and exaggerated screaming.
"OH MY GOD, YOU DUMB BITCH." Guillemet screamed, punctuating each word with a noise that sounded something like an ornery cat in a blender. "HOW COULD YOU."
Being a Sauthai, Eriz was pretty knowledgeable in the arts of war and the execution of these said strategies. She had a good education after all. In this case, the armor-lady was pretty sure staying with this horrible creature beast was suicidal and she should make a tactical retreat. So with a kick of her limbs, she did.
Meanwhile, Guillemet realized that swearing and screaming over small problems did not endear her to strangers. It was such a small point of laser! She should not had made a big deal over that!
"WAIT." Guillemet went into air with the majesty of a plane-tank if the driver was incredibly inebriated. "WAIT UP."
---
Man. Being a fish mutant was great.
And Thize had to agree with himself. He's got the fins, the good looks, the awesome bubble powers (never ever ever forget the bubbles). Life was great. Being a fish mutant was great. He turned that mantra over and over in his mind with the predilection of a very smug dolphin and yes, dolphins can be smug. Of course, there was always a couple of these people who make fun of his condition but it was nothing that the friendly guys and gals (and of course, the sizable population of those camping outside the gender binary spectrum) could not fix over in his fan blog (semi-narcissistically started by yours truly).
"Man, being a fish mutant is great." Thize thought loudly to himself. By thought loudly, he meant he spoke loudly.
Thize paddled languidly in the pool regaling in how awesome life and his handsomeness was. The water felt so gooood rushing aganist the webbing between his periwinkle toes. So gooood. Gooooooood. Goooooooooooooooood. It was good enough to warrant a couple of aquatic gymnastics was vaguely reminiscent of the Woman Olympics Synchronized Swimming. Or again, dolphin comparisons - if the dolphin was on crack, of course.
"Oh man. Why is swimming so great," Thize declared to no one in particular. Probably because there was no one down here at all.
Just a giant dinosaur maquette casting an ominous shadow onto the pool.
"Oh man. I love dinosaurs!" Thize laughed as he backstroked a circle. "Hey man, I love you."
Being made of paper-mache and paint in addition of being completely non-sentient, the dinosaur did not spoke at all.
"I love you too," Thize smiled and decided to hug the dinosaur figure. Again, dolphin comparisons.
Of course, the dinosaur figure cracked. It was inevitable since the dinosaur was made of you know. Paper, glue, and possibly lead-based paint judging from the saturated colors. Thize was a bit of an aquatic health nut and believed in the concept of staying away from carcinogens as much as possible (you can find that in his blog). However, there was a problem larger than getting cancer from shitty sculptures.
"Oh. Huh."
Thize was not exactly the brightest bulb in the box - especially considering that his fish-mutant-schtick had the caveat of setting his intelligence to the average mental capacity of the ocean. Sure, the ocean had a lot of bright young minds, especially in the Cetacean department, but it was not exactly correlating to human-level intelligence. Again, dolphin comparisons.
However, he was bright enough to realized there was something inside the broken neck of this statue. It had runes, words, and other weird glowy occult crap that escaped Thize's mind. It was magical shit. The most magical shit. And the magical shit had said "SUMMON LEVEL 10: LAND SHARK MISSILE."
The faint sound of gnashing teeth and propulsion in the distance told Thize this was not a good idea at all.
---
Meanwhile, the lady-smith Eriz Col-Myel was passing along the jungle of shelves and various sorts of knick-knacks that seemed to plague the Storage Park. She was glad to have a bit of personal space to herself - a haven of quiet from the psychotic lunacy of things. Things like stupid amounts of cats, bloody-horrifying (and horrifyingly-bloody) rooms, and of course, other people.
"HEY."
Well, she would had been glad if someone learned to let go.
"HEY YOU."
Someone being the freaky monster-woman-whatever behind her.
"CHRIST, LADY. ARE YOU GOING DEAF OR JUST DUMB ON ME."
"What you want?" Col-Myel yelled. The stalking was making her a smidge paranoid maybe but incredibly annoyed.
The creature settled down on a shelf and swiftly folded her leathery wings in a strange triangular formation. She gripped firmly at the top, the slight crunching only further reminded Eriz of how potentially dangerous the thing-on-the-top was. Guillemet shifted and bowed her head down.
"WHAT YOU WANT?" The grotesque face on the cock of the neck seemed to parrot back.
"I want you to leave me alone for a time," Eriz snapped. "For a while. Maybe forever."
"OH COME ON WHERE IS THE FUN IN THAT?" Guillemet frowned, giving her forehead a scary amount of wrinkles.
"There is no fun," And then Eriz marched on. To be fair, she was not having a lot of that in this place.
"HOW ABOUT YOU AND I BECOME FRIENDS." The voice called from above.
Eriz froze in her tracks as if she heard a terrible truth or just a really bad joke. The feeling was unexplainable and indescribable because the last thing she wanted to hear was an alliance proposal from the creature that maybe-probably-definitely attempted to hork away her precious armor components. The creature was also the last thing she wanted to become allies with. She had standards to hold up to.
"ALLIES. COMPATRIOTS. HOMBRES. AMIGOS (WELL TECHNICALLY AMIGAS)." Guillemet stretched the entirely of her wingspan and brought them back to her sides again. "YOU KNOW, FRIENDS."
Eriz's answer was precisely how she felt. "No."
"WAIT. WAIT. WAIT." Guillemet replied in obvious disapproval. "WHY."
"First of all, you are not trustworthy plus you are a freakishly large predator. Second of all, you obviously want my armor, not my trust. Third of all, this is a battlefield. We are fighting for ourselves, not for each other. You and I are enemies. We cannot be allies." Eriz paused a bit to catch her breath. "At all."
Guillemet reacted as if Eriz had been speaking from the planet of Jupiter, not in a Storage Park like now.
"You got this. ALRIGHT?" Eriz screamed. "DID THAT GOT THROUGH YOUR HEAD OR WHAT."
"Hi, guys."
Both Eriz and Guillemet snapped back and saw to their surprise, a horned and finny fellow - Thize as we knew him by. He was dripping wet which made his clothes stick to his skin all so handsomely - if the viewers were hormonal teenager girls. However, Eriz was a armorer-smith with a strong war cultural background and Guillemet was, well, a scientist dragon. So they were merely repulsed by his appearance.
"WOAH, WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU." Guillemet spoke as she thought.
Thize began to go on a rambling spree that rivalled Guillemet's post-graduate speech on Eriz's armor. Unlike Guillemet's speech, it was more nonsensical than abrasively encyclopedic - which was aggravated by the young man's short of breath. It was almost if he was running from something. From what the two could make out of it, it had the words, "black magic," "automated weaponery" and "goddamn sharks."
"What? Sharks?" Eriz could not compute Thize's speech. "I --"
There was this noise droning louder and louder. It sounded almost dangerous and strange. And oh my god sharks with rockets inhumanely attached to them sharks with their beady eyes and snapping jaws this is ridiculously dumb and stupid and oh so frightening oh why would some complete moron wanted to create such an unnatural abuse of nature on such a dear existence oh god whhhhhyyyyyyyyyyyyyy
"WHAT THE BLOODY FUCKING FUCK. WHAT THE BLOODY FUCK," Guillemet screeched at an unnatural falsetto - which reached its breaking point as the rocket-propelled sharks broke the shelf, the walls behind the shelves, the shelves behind the walls behind the shelves, and you get the point. The point was the shark missiles destroyed an ungodly amount of things and it travelled far. It travelled pretty dang far.
Because what was left behind, was just the short walk to the Parking Lot.
---
"Bloody cosmic existentialist despair," a being grumbled in the parking lot. "Bloody stuff clogging up my cosmic existentialist despair."
The headless man in the suit grumbled as he got out of his VAN (Vehicle of Abyssal Nihilism), which oddly turned out to look pretty dang close to a conventional Prius. The man made more gurgling noises of discontent as he unloaded the storage in the back. Things. So many things. It was such an awesome idea back then, but it resulted in so many things. He knew he should had not done that. It resulted in a thousands of corpses. Space-filling, indisposable corpses.
The man only knew how high the rates of the Storage Park were.
Prices were not the only problem as he realized the Storage Park was partially collapsed and there is smoke everywhere, entropy billowing out and probably polluting nearby universes. And there were sharks on the ground, flopping uselessly as the rockets sputtered to nothing and their gills collapsed from the lack of water. Yeah, it was a mess. A mess that could only elicit one reaction.
"SWEET SPECTATOR TITTIES." The man attempted to grab and pull at his hair until he realized he did not had a hair on his head. Or a head at all.