Re: The $300,000 Fight-A-Thon! [Round One: Storage Park!]
12-23-2012, 12:30 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by ~ATH.
The Most Gruesome and Magnificent Warden of the Sixth Ring of Inferno was feeling very out of place at the moment. There was the literal feeling of loss he felt at no longer being in his appointed position, then there was this battle. The nature of this battle's existence was simply excruciating. He had seen more chaos occur in this warehouse than ever during his near-infinite lifetime of order. And it made him furious. He had to regain control, somehow.
So, the first thing he did was abandon his foolish idealistic quest of allying with Eriz and Franz. His damaged arm dropped to the ground, and another arm started glowing a dark reddish, greyish, something, aura. The aura flowed smoothly, meticuously, towards the box of gears he still carried. The gears rose up, and started whirring, to Warden's one-second-per-second beat. They collided together, forming no sounds other than a perfect clinking of gears coming together. His discarded arm broke apart, and the salvagable parts joined the new arm. And, lo, his arm was complete. Finally. It was terribly inefficient, dragging that thing around, but he had continued to believe that it would serve him good in the long run.
Franz von Schuster would not be swayed, he could see that. He could hear every frantic whisper Franz made towards Eriz, despite lacking ears. He could see whenever he shook his head behind his back, but more than that, he could feel that he would never ally with him. The ripple at the end of his timeline became just a little bit clearer, as he learned that he has had experience with demons or otherworldly folk, and he would never trust them. Yes, he was a lost case. Yet, Warden had persisted in trying to ally up with him. Why?
Eriz Col-Myel was more frail than her armor would seem to imply. She was a warrior, yes, but perhaps not much of one. The Warden had thought she would be a bit more malleable than Franz, but this wavering weakness was her undoing. She seemed more trusting, yes, but at the same time, less. More importantly, she was scared, even if she didn't show it or know of it. He could see that now. And his visage, designed by the one and only Prince of Darkness to be terrifying, did not help matters much. She was also a lost cause. What error in judgment caused him to pursue this alliance? Why did he not simply ignore them?
He blamed it on the chaos and moved on.
The one in front of him, prancing about with his head so insufferably high, the impossibly clean godcat, was the anomaly here. It was much more of a pressing concern to him, the concept of a God. This one did not feel like the divine power he had very rarely glimpsed from afar, but did it have to? Was it possible that this cat was God's true form? And if so, why was he not prostrating himself before Felus at this very minute? The reason was simple. Felus was not God, nor was he a god. He could feel it. Simply the fact that he had a visible file immediately denied his godly status, as gods were not below him, yet the cat was undeniably more than just a cat. He was most likely something demidivine, an offspring of a god, or perhaps a former god itself. As he dismissed its godly status, its power seemed to dim a little. How peculiar. He would look into this further, but for now, he was satisfied that his analysis was correct. He mentally filed away information on the cat. It fluttered (in a manner of speaking) into a mental cabinet of "The $300,000 Fight-A-Thon!", as infuriating as that title was.
There were 4 other folders. Two were branded as sinners, and the other two were enigmas. He would have to find more information on them.
"Felus. We need to find the one called Guillemet, and the one called Thize."
"Ugh, not Guillement. She's a pain in the ass. I don't know about the other one, though. Is he a contestant?"
"My information on those two is lacking, and this troubles me."
"Yeah, I guess we can find them along the way..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
[color=#P1914]"Look! There it is!"
Indeed, the demonic clock was busily floating between warehouses. It seemed to be looking for something, while following a cat. Ironjaw was actually a little bit nervous, a feeling very unbefitting of him. I mean, come on, he was a shark. He had to look intimidating, especially in a battle like this. He shook off this alien feeling, and made to approach him. Ironjaw slinked closer, in a manner once again unbefitting of a shark. Then, it was close enough, but Warden seemed to be very distracted. Eventually, he just called for him.
"Yo, clocky guy!"[/color]
"...Ironjaw."
[color=#P1914]"I don't know if you've heard, but there's this other demonic thing... calls herself the Artiste... and, well, she's a sinner! One of the worst I've seen!"[/color]
"You are a sinner, and sinners lie."
[color=#P1914]"Uh... no, really! She kills people and puts them back together, all for the sake of art!"[/color]
"She is capable of reviving the dead? If you are correct... Such a thing is unheard of! Why, this sin truly is the greatest sin of all! It is... heretic!"
[color=#P1914]"Yeah, so could you maybe take care of her?"[/color]
Warden zoomed towards the warehouse with the undeniably demonic presence, leaving Felus behind. He had approved of the corpse-tree structure, but now that he knew it interfered with life itself, he knew that the Artiste needed to go down. Once in the warehouse, he could feel that this presence was unmistakably stronger than before. Perhaps this was due to the fact that they had now trespassed into his property. Suddenly, the demonic presence started wrapping itself around his mechanical body - a fact he was only aware of as a mild observation. Two demonic forces clashed briefly, and nothing at all happened. A guttural moan echoed through the warehouse, and Warden could not make out what it said. Warden was annoyed he couldn't see the Artiste. He could feel its presence, he could even hear it, but he couldn't properly analyze it.
"Artiste, please present yourself."
A shrieking, more demonic energies.
"Further noncompliance will only brand you as a sinner. Make no mistake, I will have a way to find you."
The groans turned to laughing, and gave an air of absolute smugness.
"Very well."
Warden brought up a fist, aimed for the gruesome body tree he saw earlier, and let his arm loose. It hit the base, and the sculpture wobbled dangerously.
The guttural voice gave way, to an odd, somewhat snobbish voice.
what are you doing have you no appreciation for the arts
Warden's perceptions were suddenly transformed, and he saw everything the Artiste saw. He saw corpses everywhere. Horrifyingly mangled corpses, fitted in a strange unexplainable way. Only a handful could even be recognized as human, the rest were nothing but mutilated flesh. One, fitted with diamond eyes, stared right at Warden.
look at these beauties
"Where is this?! Where did you take me?! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!"
this is my gallery
"Unacceptable! You will take me back!"
you poor metal thing without a soul you have no appreciation of art so let me teach you
"Show yourselves! I demand it!"
A corpse of a human with legs more than 10 times the normal length floated up and batted playfully at Warden's face. He struggled to get his gears moving again, and he panicked when he didn't budge one bit. He could be losing valuable nanoseconds at this point. He cursed the Artiste, and placed him even higher than the Coach on the Sinner's List.
"Everything you do will be reflected in how much I torture you in the end. Give up now."
what is art to you soulless demon
"Art is frivolous, and your art is forbidden. You will be taken into the deepest bowels of my ring, for the sin of heresy."
heresy is a meaningless term when there is no god
do you see a god here no there is no god only me
and i am beyond godliness
"Enough! You have just now confessed to the sin of Greater Heresy, your words are meaningless."
you just dont understand
whatever happened to that old body of yours anyways
do you remember your old self no you dont
The Artiste laughed again, and its presence departed Warden's body. Warden awoke on the ground, his gears now furiously grinding. The minute he realized he was back to reality, he finally thought to slow down, and evaluate his time span. He found that no time had passed at all during the conversation. He calmed down and took this time to contemplate. The amount of sinners kept rising, and he felt powerless to stop them. He felt out of control. Truly, he needed help. He needed his minions. He needed his life back in control.
[color=#P1914]Ironjaw took in this whole interaction with a stoicity that was perhaps just a little bit forced. He was not willing to come any closer than the boundaries between warehouses. He was confident this would cause him to be outside of the Artiste's range. It took him by surprise when the Warden suddenly stopped turning and fell to the ground. He was about to turn away, declaring a victory, but the sound of gears immediately stopped him. And the guttural pseudolaugh of the Artiste made him turn right the fuck back around.
As soon as the Artise stopped laughing, a chunk of the roof broke off and fell on him. He felt the painful sting of death, and he was in the void once more. No voice came this time, and he was left floating, wondering just what the hell did the Artiste think she was doing anyways.[/color]
see i can kill your allies at any time
[color=#P1914]Ironjaw was taken by surprise, and he wondered what the Artiste was talking about. He turned around, and saw a frozen conglomeration of gears. He then realized the horrifying fact that the Artiste wasn't talking to him. He was simply being used as a demonstration. This struck him deep to the core. He was fucking tired of being pushed around by everybody, of nobody caring about him. He tried to scream out in rage, but when he couldn't, he only collapsed in a fetal position. Warden's voice rang out, only further reminding him of his inability to call out.[/color]
"He is not an ally of mine, he is a subject of my torment. You will cease the killing of my subjects."
death is my toy death is the canvas which i use to express the greatest of lifes mysteries
The bloody mess that surrounded him cleared a little, showing a view of Warden's deactivated body and the goopy mess that used to be Ironjaw. Then, ex-Ironjaw oozed around and reformed itself into a complete Ironjaw. Warden watched this transpire with a watchful eye socket, and he saw. The Artiste certainly worked in unusual ways. Ironjaw stood, utterly bewildered, looking at his own body, and it was as if he never died. Warden saw this in the shark hybrid's timeline as well. Yet... Ironjaw's death was fresh in his memory. This was impossible. This was... incalculable. So, his mechanical brain simply deleted this from his database, as such an event would have caused a catastrophic error in his programming. He didn't even recognize his own body, or rather, his programming refused to allow him to. Lucifer certainly equipped him well. As it were, Warden only saw that the Artiste prevented Ironjaw's death, and he saw an opportunity.
"This sinner, the one called Ironjaw, has been taken under my custody for torturing. He must be punished for a lifetime of murder, and heresy against his superiors. Eternal torment, it seems, is possible under your powers."
yes most wonderful it seems you are starting to understand
"If you are capable of bringing them the punishment they deserve, I will allow you to do so. You are something beyond death, like me. That is clear. I will make you my minion, and you will do my bidding."
foolish warden you are like an ant to me and i think you are one lovely ant
you are metal like me yes you will be a great one
do you understand art now do you wish to work with me
we can make such great things together soulless one
"I... will help you if you help me. Allow me to bring you the sinners."
The world collapsed, and Warden woke up, surprised to find his gears completely intact and already whirring at a second-by-second rate. Warden knew what he had to do. Warden made his way onwards, totally ignoring Ironjaw.
The Most Gruesome and Magnificent Warden of the Sixth Ring of Inferno was feeling very out of place at the moment. There was the literal feeling of loss he felt at no longer being in his appointed position, then there was this battle. The nature of this battle's existence was simply excruciating. He had seen more chaos occur in this warehouse than ever during his near-infinite lifetime of order. And it made him furious. He had to regain control, somehow.
So, the first thing he did was abandon his foolish idealistic quest of allying with Eriz and Franz. His damaged arm dropped to the ground, and another arm started glowing a dark reddish, greyish, something, aura. The aura flowed smoothly, meticuously, towards the box of gears he still carried. The gears rose up, and started whirring, to Warden's one-second-per-second beat. They collided together, forming no sounds other than a perfect clinking of gears coming together. His discarded arm broke apart, and the salvagable parts joined the new arm. And, lo, his arm was complete. Finally. It was terribly inefficient, dragging that thing around, but he had continued to believe that it would serve him good in the long run.
Franz von Schuster would not be swayed, he could see that. He could hear every frantic whisper Franz made towards Eriz, despite lacking ears. He could see whenever he shook his head behind his back, but more than that, he could feel that he would never ally with him. The ripple at the end of his timeline became just a little bit clearer, as he learned that he has had experience with demons or otherworldly folk, and he would never trust them. Yes, he was a lost case. Yet, Warden had persisted in trying to ally up with him. Why?
Eriz Col-Myel was more frail than her armor would seem to imply. She was a warrior, yes, but perhaps not much of one. The Warden had thought she would be a bit more malleable than Franz, but this wavering weakness was her undoing. She seemed more trusting, yes, but at the same time, less. More importantly, she was scared, even if she didn't show it or know of it. He could see that now. And his visage, designed by the one and only Prince of Darkness to be terrifying, did not help matters much. She was also a lost cause. What error in judgment caused him to pursue this alliance? Why did he not simply ignore them?
He blamed it on the chaos and moved on.
The one in front of him, prancing about with his head so insufferably high, the impossibly clean godcat, was the anomaly here. It was much more of a pressing concern to him, the concept of a God. This one did not feel like the divine power he had very rarely glimpsed from afar, but did it have to? Was it possible that this cat was God's true form? And if so, why was he not prostrating himself before Felus at this very minute? The reason was simple. Felus was not God, nor was he a god. He could feel it. Simply the fact that he had a visible file immediately denied his godly status, as gods were not below him, yet the cat was undeniably more than just a cat. He was most likely something demidivine, an offspring of a god, or perhaps a former god itself. As he dismissed its godly status, its power seemed to dim a little. How peculiar. He would look into this further, but for now, he was satisfied that his analysis was correct. He mentally filed away information on the cat. It fluttered (in a manner of speaking) into a mental cabinet of "The $300,000 Fight-A-Thon!", as infuriating as that title was.
There were 4 other folders. Two were branded as sinners, and the other two were enigmas. He would have to find more information on them.
"Felus. We need to find the one called Guillemet, and the one called Thize."
"Ugh, not Guillement. She's a pain in the ass. I don't know about the other one, though. Is he a contestant?"
"My information on those two is lacking, and this troubles me."
"Yeah, I guess we can find them along the way..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
[color=#P1914]"Look! There it is!"
Indeed, the demonic clock was busily floating between warehouses. It seemed to be looking for something, while following a cat. Ironjaw was actually a little bit nervous, a feeling very unbefitting of him. I mean, come on, he was a shark. He had to look intimidating, especially in a battle like this. He shook off this alien feeling, and made to approach him. Ironjaw slinked closer, in a manner once again unbefitting of a shark. Then, it was close enough, but Warden seemed to be very distracted. Eventually, he just called for him.
"Yo, clocky guy!"[/color]
"...Ironjaw."
[color=#P1914]"I don't know if you've heard, but there's this other demonic thing... calls herself the Artiste... and, well, she's a sinner! One of the worst I've seen!"[/color]
"You are a sinner, and sinners lie."
[color=#P1914]"Uh... no, really! She kills people and puts them back together, all for the sake of art!"[/color]
"She is capable of reviving the dead? If you are correct... Such a thing is unheard of! Why, this sin truly is the greatest sin of all! It is... heretic!"
[color=#P1914]"Yeah, so could you maybe take care of her?"[/color]
Warden zoomed towards the warehouse with the undeniably demonic presence, leaving Felus behind. He had approved of the corpse-tree structure, but now that he knew it interfered with life itself, he knew that the Artiste needed to go down. Once in the warehouse, he could feel that this presence was unmistakably stronger than before. Perhaps this was due to the fact that they had now trespassed into his property. Suddenly, the demonic presence started wrapping itself around his mechanical body - a fact he was only aware of as a mild observation. Two demonic forces clashed briefly, and nothing at all happened. A guttural moan echoed through the warehouse, and Warden could not make out what it said. Warden was annoyed he couldn't see the Artiste. He could feel its presence, he could even hear it, but he couldn't properly analyze it.
"Artiste, please present yourself."
A shrieking, more demonic energies.
"Further noncompliance will only brand you as a sinner. Make no mistake, I will have a way to find you."
The groans turned to laughing, and gave an air of absolute smugness.
"Very well."
Warden brought up a fist, aimed for the gruesome body tree he saw earlier, and let his arm loose. It hit the base, and the sculpture wobbled dangerously.
The guttural voice gave way, to an odd, somewhat snobbish voice.
what are you doing have you no appreciation for the arts
Warden's perceptions were suddenly transformed, and he saw everything the Artiste saw. He saw corpses everywhere. Horrifyingly mangled corpses, fitted in a strange unexplainable way. Only a handful could even be recognized as human, the rest were nothing but mutilated flesh. One, fitted with diamond eyes, stared right at Warden.
look at these beauties
"Where is this?! Where did you take me?! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!"
this is my gallery
"Unacceptable! You will take me back!"
you poor metal thing without a soul you have no appreciation of art so let me teach you
"Show yourselves! I demand it!"
A corpse of a human with legs more than 10 times the normal length floated up and batted playfully at Warden's face. He struggled to get his gears moving again, and he panicked when he didn't budge one bit. He could be losing valuable nanoseconds at this point. He cursed the Artiste, and placed him even higher than the Coach on the Sinner's List.
"Everything you do will be reflected in how much I torture you in the end. Give up now."
what is art to you soulless demon
"Art is frivolous, and your art is forbidden. You will be taken into the deepest bowels of my ring, for the sin of heresy."
heresy is a meaningless term when there is no god
do you see a god here no there is no god only me
and i am beyond godliness
"Enough! You have just now confessed to the sin of Greater Heresy, your words are meaningless."
you just dont understand
whatever happened to that old body of yours anyways
do you remember your old self no you dont
The Artiste laughed again, and its presence departed Warden's body. Warden awoke on the ground, his gears now furiously grinding. The minute he realized he was back to reality, he finally thought to slow down, and evaluate his time span. He found that no time had passed at all during the conversation. He calmed down and took this time to contemplate. The amount of sinners kept rising, and he felt powerless to stop them. He felt out of control. Truly, he needed help. He needed his minions. He needed his life back in control.
[color=#P1914]Ironjaw took in this whole interaction with a stoicity that was perhaps just a little bit forced. He was not willing to come any closer than the boundaries between warehouses. He was confident this would cause him to be outside of the Artiste's range. It took him by surprise when the Warden suddenly stopped turning and fell to the ground. He was about to turn away, declaring a victory, but the sound of gears immediately stopped him. And the guttural pseudolaugh of the Artiste made him turn right the fuck back around.
As soon as the Artise stopped laughing, a chunk of the roof broke off and fell on him. He felt the painful sting of death, and he was in the void once more. No voice came this time, and he was left floating, wondering just what the hell did the Artiste think she was doing anyways.[/color]
see i can kill your allies at any time
[color=#P1914]Ironjaw was taken by surprise, and he wondered what the Artiste was talking about. He turned around, and saw a frozen conglomeration of gears. He then realized the horrifying fact that the Artiste wasn't talking to him. He was simply being used as a demonstration. This struck him deep to the core. He was fucking tired of being pushed around by everybody, of nobody caring about him. He tried to scream out in rage, but when he couldn't, he only collapsed in a fetal position. Warden's voice rang out, only further reminding him of his inability to call out.[/color]
"He is not an ally of mine, he is a subject of my torment. You will cease the killing of my subjects."
death is my toy death is the canvas which i use to express the greatest of lifes mysteries
The bloody mess that surrounded him cleared a little, showing a view of Warden's deactivated body and the goopy mess that used to be Ironjaw. Then, ex-Ironjaw oozed around and reformed itself into a complete Ironjaw. Warden watched this transpire with a watchful eye socket, and he saw. The Artiste certainly worked in unusual ways. Ironjaw stood, utterly bewildered, looking at his own body, and it was as if he never died. Warden saw this in the shark hybrid's timeline as well. Yet... Ironjaw's death was fresh in his memory. This was impossible. This was... incalculable. So, his mechanical brain simply deleted this from his database, as such an event would have caused a catastrophic error in his programming. He didn't even recognize his own body, or rather, his programming refused to allow him to. Lucifer certainly equipped him well. As it were, Warden only saw that the Artiste prevented Ironjaw's death, and he saw an opportunity.
"This sinner, the one called Ironjaw, has been taken under my custody for torturing. He must be punished for a lifetime of murder, and heresy against his superiors. Eternal torment, it seems, is possible under your powers."
yes most wonderful it seems you are starting to understand
"If you are capable of bringing them the punishment they deserve, I will allow you to do so. You are something beyond death, like me. That is clear. I will make you my minion, and you will do my bidding."
foolish warden you are like an ant to me and i think you are one lovely ant
you are metal like me yes you will be a great one
do you understand art now do you wish to work with me
we can make such great things together soulless one
"I... will help you if you help me. Allow me to bring you the sinners."
The world collapsed, and Warden woke up, surprised to find his gears completely intact and already whirring at a second-by-second rate. Warden knew what he had to do. Warden made his way onwards, totally ignoring Ironjaw.