Re: The Fatal Conflict! (GBS2G7) (Round 1: Everybody's Dead!)
07-29-2010, 09:03 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Eversist.
The great mass of a man was approaching. Bellona reached back for her spear, whipping it around to caress the barbarian’s bulky Adam's apple. The six-foot long javelin kept him at a comfortable distance, but Bellona could smell the muskiness rolling off him in waves. It wasn’t… unpleasant.
“Greetings,” he grunted, accompanied by the slightest nod of the head. Bellona didn’t move.
“I wish to discuss,” he paused, choosing his words, “a proposition.”
Bellona blinked, but betrayed no other indication of recognition. She didn’t expect Strongarm to be afraid of her, but the last thing she had expected was coherent phrases. She lowered her spear point reluctantly, finally breaking eye contact. “What—”
Laura chose that moment to begin screeching at the top of her lungs. Wincing in her general direction, Bellona motioned to the man. “Let us walk,” she mouthed.
The more Bellona saw of this street, the more mysteries it presented. Ignoring the repeating landscape, some sort of loop that Zaire’s magics created no doubt, Bellona was unfamiliar with the products and technologies offered in every single storefront. She should have been at a loss with the language as well, written and coming off her tongue, but Bellona again chalked that up to Zaire’s power. He’s certainly a force to be reckoned with, she thought grimly.
A smattering of chairs and tables was strewn on one side of the street in front of the two. It appeared that a truck had barreled its way through the back of a diner, and busted out the front window. The truck’s charred remains hung awkwardly at an angle, bits of bone adorning the hood; the sign above it read “rby Lane,” the rest of the sign artfully replaced by scorch marks. The gladiatrix righted a wicker chair and plunked down. She nudged another miraculously-whole chair towards the fellow warrior with a sandaled foot, but he seemed intent on standing.
Crossing her legs, Bellona decided it wasn’t time to resort to surprise assaults quite yet. And she doubted that Strongarm had the cranial capacity to have something up his sleeve this early in the game (aside from the fact that he had no sleeves... no garments worth mentioning when it concerned concealing something, really). She was only hoping he had something worthwhile to say. She wanted to investigate this infinite loop; it was a puzzle to be solved. Or maybe go and rough up that demoness, whose cries she could still hear quite clearly in the distance. She began tapping the butt-end of her weapon against the sole of her sandal with a hint of impatience.
Now eyelevel with Strongarm's massive torso, Bellona eyed it surreptitiously. She noted the gashes across its rippling skin that she had failed to notice earlier. “So, you already picked a fight with someone, eh? How’d that go?” she asked, a cheeky smile spreading across her face.
The great mass of a man was approaching. Bellona reached back for her spear, whipping it around to caress the barbarian’s bulky Adam's apple. The six-foot long javelin kept him at a comfortable distance, but Bellona could smell the muskiness rolling off him in waves. It wasn’t… unpleasant.
“Greetings,” he grunted, accompanied by the slightest nod of the head. Bellona didn’t move.
“I wish to discuss,” he paused, choosing his words, “a proposition.”
Bellona blinked, but betrayed no other indication of recognition. She didn’t expect Strongarm to be afraid of her, but the last thing she had expected was coherent phrases. She lowered her spear point reluctantly, finally breaking eye contact. “What—”
Laura chose that moment to begin screeching at the top of her lungs. Wincing in her general direction, Bellona motioned to the man. “Let us walk,” she mouthed.
The more Bellona saw of this street, the more mysteries it presented. Ignoring the repeating landscape, some sort of loop that Zaire’s magics created no doubt, Bellona was unfamiliar with the products and technologies offered in every single storefront. She should have been at a loss with the language as well, written and coming off her tongue, but Bellona again chalked that up to Zaire’s power. He’s certainly a force to be reckoned with, she thought grimly.
A smattering of chairs and tables was strewn on one side of the street in front of the two. It appeared that a truck had barreled its way through the back of a diner, and busted out the front window. The truck’s charred remains hung awkwardly at an angle, bits of bone adorning the hood; the sign above it read “rby Lane,” the rest of the sign artfully replaced by scorch marks. The gladiatrix righted a wicker chair and plunked down. She nudged another miraculously-whole chair towards the fellow warrior with a sandaled foot, but he seemed intent on standing.
Crossing her legs, Bellona decided it wasn’t time to resort to surprise assaults quite yet. And she doubted that Strongarm had the cranial capacity to have something up his sleeve this early in the game (aside from the fact that he had no sleeves... no garments worth mentioning when it concerned concealing something, really). She was only hoping he had something worthwhile to say. She wanted to investigate this infinite loop; it was a puzzle to be solved. Or maybe go and rough up that demoness, whose cries she could still hear quite clearly in the distance. She began tapping the butt-end of her weapon against the sole of her sandal with a hint of impatience.
Now eyelevel with Strongarm's massive torso, Bellona eyed it surreptitiously. She noted the gashes across its rippling skin that she had failed to notice earlier. “So, you already picked a fight with someone, eh? How’d that go?” she asked, a cheeky smile spreading across her face.