Re: The Fatal Conflict! (GBS2G7) (Round 1: Everybody's Dead!)
09-18-2010, 05:39 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Eversist.
Bellona examined the chemist, wrinkling her nose. Being of Roman descent, she was familiar with the ritual of shaking hands—but not caring to be in close quarters with this malformation, she therefore neglected to educate him. She simply stared blatantly, and remained silent. His proximity was fairly distracting. Her eyes followed a particular stream of bubbles rising in a hose from right to left. They disappeared, each passing though his chest.
A disgusted Bellona heaved. This quickly progressed into a spectacular coughing fit over a bit of bile.
Kargrek stared and the convulsing gladiatrix with a hint of distain. If barbarians rolled their eyes, he would have; his face said as much. He settled a hand on Kaja's shoulder making a conscious effort to avoid tubes and other extremities. The fact that this man remained, instead of disappearing into the seams of time, pleased Strongarm slightly. He shook his head slowly. "Anyone who is unwilling to fight to entertain that man…" He let the sentence hang.
Kaja watched the still-choking Bellona with a bemused expression. He knew he could probably help her with a few choice brews, but it was more entertaining to watch nature run its course. "Yes, as non-confrontational as our cause may be, my conversation with Zaire was less than encouraging. There seem to be few options but to fight." He glanced up at the other warrior through his thick goggles.
Kargrek gripped his axehandle in a therapeutic sort of way. "That may be. But we do get to choose who we fight." He glared pointedly at the coffee shop front with blood-rage welling in his eyes.
"Two against one are certainly... well, slightly better odds, but against his magics—"
"Wait."
Bellona looked up with watery eyes, and cough-sniffled one last time.
"Wait. I want to try something."
--
"There's something about men with substantial power…"
Bellona examined the discarded door laying near the threshold with passing interest, and stepped over it into the coffee shop. She propped her spear and shield against the wall, with a leaning motion. As her tunic lifted with this action, she allowed much of her upper thigh to be exposed. The art of seduction was basically foreign to her, so she sighed and let her base feminine instinct, or whatever was left of it, guide her actions. She neatly dodged the corpses that crowded the place, her lily-white tunic swishing gently around her hips. The smell of decomposition and spoilt milk assaulted more than just one of her senses, and she tried not to cringe, having recovered from being sick just moments before.
Zaire’s lips stopped inches from his disposable cup. He stared, baffled, at the woman’s sauntering figure, reading her intent immediately. Out of the few visitors he’d had, she was the first of this nature to be sure. His confusion turned to a sheer booming guffaw as he watched her overly exaggerated hip-swinging strike a table, sending a corpse crashing to the floor. His laughter filled the putrid air, as he calmly folded up his newspaper, and dropped it flat on the tabletop.
"My lady, I don't know if this has permeated your brain quite yet, but you are deceased. While I am… eccentric, I am far from a necrophiliac."
Face burning, Bellona pouted her bottom lip in what she hoped was a titillating manner. "Do I look dead to you?" She cocked her generous, bruised hip as if to prove him wrong. She began blinking rapidly, trying to bat her eyelashes. She ended up just looking like she had something stuck in her eye.
Another wicked grin flashed over Zaire's face. "You are simply reanimated for the time being."
Bellona leaned down across his table, propping herself on her forearms. Her draping tunic gapped open in the front. "What is the difference, really?"
She could tell that he wasn't interested, in the traditional sense anyway (although, her poor performance was largely at the forefront of her faults), but she still doubted he had ever encountered a woman such as she. He continued to consider her over his still-steaming coffee, his expression now unreadable. Maybe he is at least intrigued, she hoped. The silence stretched uncomfortably, and Bellona finally broke eye contact.
Zaire suddenly cocked his head. "Miss Achillia, have you misplaced your necklace?"
A familiar explosion rocked the street outside.
--
"I do not foresee her endeavor going well."
"She is a distraction. If she is not killed, she has done her job…" He angled his head, then added as an afterthought. "Even so."
The two drastically different men were walking back in the direction from which they had come. Although the glowing ridge in the asphalt had long since faded, they still continued on in that direction. Bellona's amber piece dangled from Kagrek's massive clutched fist, and as they approached the crack it began to glow just as it had before.
Kaja eyed the glow. "Do you think you could make the seam larger?"
The warrior went to hand the gladiatrix' belonging to the undead man, but the moment his fingers left its surface, the glow faded from the street. "Why…?" Strongarm snorted impatiently, and snatched the trinket back from Kaja's palm. The glow immediately returned.
Turning, Kagrek tethered the amulet's chain around his bulky wrist, and paused atop the seam. He released a husky yell, swung his weapon above his head, and drove the axe-head deep into the asphalt. Light streamed out from beneath the metal. "Do you think you can make fire as you did earlier?" he asked the chemist pointedly.
The doctor gave Kagrek a steady look that read "what-do-you-take-me-for," and got to work. He reproduced the formula from earlier with a slight alteration; he added a mineral that retarded the combustion rate of the concoction—simply a dash of salt. A dollop of the fluid was poured evenly into four small flasks held between splayed fingers, and corked methodically.
Kaja's actions were so quick and accurate, Strongarm had hardly made any progress. He sped up his task of dragging his axe like a hoe across the asphalt, widening the crack as he went. When he was finally finished, Kaja began placing the vials at equal increments along the line like seeds. They were almost lost to sight among the light now streaming brightly from the ground. Backing away from their handiwork, Kaja looked up at the warrior. "And now? The solution requires a stimulation, a cause to explode. In this case, exposure to air. How do we cause simultaneous exposure?"
Kagrek muttered the command word to activate the magics hidden within his axe. As the flame surrounded the blade, the barbarian sliced an arc through the air above his head, causing the flame to erupt and separate off of the blade's edge into the near atmosphere.
"Overkill, but yes, that will be more than sufficient.
…Speaking of overkill."
Across the seam and down the street a-ways, they could see a figure approaching another pairing of contestants. The demoness was headed straight for them, an undiscriminating malice in her glowing eyes.
Bellona examined the chemist, wrinkling her nose. Being of Roman descent, she was familiar with the ritual of shaking hands—but not caring to be in close quarters with this malformation, she therefore neglected to educate him. She simply stared blatantly, and remained silent. His proximity was fairly distracting. Her eyes followed a particular stream of bubbles rising in a hose from right to left. They disappeared, each passing though his chest.
A disgusted Bellona heaved. This quickly progressed into a spectacular coughing fit over a bit of bile.
Kargrek stared and the convulsing gladiatrix with a hint of distain. If barbarians rolled their eyes, he would have; his face said as much. He settled a hand on Kaja's shoulder making a conscious effort to avoid tubes and other extremities. The fact that this man remained, instead of disappearing into the seams of time, pleased Strongarm slightly. He shook his head slowly. "Anyone who is unwilling to fight to entertain that man…" He let the sentence hang.
Kaja watched the still-choking Bellona with a bemused expression. He knew he could probably help her with a few choice brews, but it was more entertaining to watch nature run its course. "Yes, as non-confrontational as our cause may be, my conversation with Zaire was less than encouraging. There seem to be few options but to fight." He glanced up at the other warrior through his thick goggles.
Kargrek gripped his axehandle in a therapeutic sort of way. "That may be. But we do get to choose who we fight." He glared pointedly at the coffee shop front with blood-rage welling in his eyes.
"Two against one are certainly... well, slightly better odds, but against his magics—"
"Wait."
Bellona looked up with watery eyes, and cough-sniffled one last time.
"Wait. I want to try something."
--
"There's something about men with substantial power…"
Bellona examined the discarded door laying near the threshold with passing interest, and stepped over it into the coffee shop. She propped her spear and shield against the wall, with a leaning motion. As her tunic lifted with this action, she allowed much of her upper thigh to be exposed. The art of seduction was basically foreign to her, so she sighed and let her base feminine instinct, or whatever was left of it, guide her actions. She neatly dodged the corpses that crowded the place, her lily-white tunic swishing gently around her hips. The smell of decomposition and spoilt milk assaulted more than just one of her senses, and she tried not to cringe, having recovered from being sick just moments before.
Zaire’s lips stopped inches from his disposable cup. He stared, baffled, at the woman’s sauntering figure, reading her intent immediately. Out of the few visitors he’d had, she was the first of this nature to be sure. His confusion turned to a sheer booming guffaw as he watched her overly exaggerated hip-swinging strike a table, sending a corpse crashing to the floor. His laughter filled the putrid air, as he calmly folded up his newspaper, and dropped it flat on the tabletop.
"My lady, I don't know if this has permeated your brain quite yet, but you are deceased. While I am… eccentric, I am far from a necrophiliac."
Face burning, Bellona pouted her bottom lip in what she hoped was a titillating manner. "Do I look dead to you?" She cocked her generous, bruised hip as if to prove him wrong. She began blinking rapidly, trying to bat her eyelashes. She ended up just looking like she had something stuck in her eye.
Another wicked grin flashed over Zaire's face. "You are simply reanimated for the time being."
Bellona leaned down across his table, propping herself on her forearms. Her draping tunic gapped open in the front. "What is the difference, really?"
She could tell that he wasn't interested, in the traditional sense anyway (although, her poor performance was largely at the forefront of her faults), but she still doubted he had ever encountered a woman such as she. He continued to consider her over his still-steaming coffee, his expression now unreadable. Maybe he is at least intrigued, she hoped. The silence stretched uncomfortably, and Bellona finally broke eye contact.
Zaire suddenly cocked his head. "Miss Achillia, have you misplaced your necklace?"
A familiar explosion rocked the street outside.
--
"I do not foresee her endeavor going well."
"She is a distraction. If she is not killed, she has done her job…" He angled his head, then added as an afterthought. "Even so."
The two drastically different men were walking back in the direction from which they had come. Although the glowing ridge in the asphalt had long since faded, they still continued on in that direction. Bellona's amber piece dangled from Kagrek's massive clutched fist, and as they approached the crack it began to glow just as it had before.
Kaja eyed the glow. "Do you think you could make the seam larger?"
The warrior went to hand the gladiatrix' belonging to the undead man, but the moment his fingers left its surface, the glow faded from the street. "Why…?" Strongarm snorted impatiently, and snatched the trinket back from Kaja's palm. The glow immediately returned.
Turning, Kagrek tethered the amulet's chain around his bulky wrist, and paused atop the seam. He released a husky yell, swung his weapon above his head, and drove the axe-head deep into the asphalt. Light streamed out from beneath the metal. "Do you think you can make fire as you did earlier?" he asked the chemist pointedly.
The doctor gave Kagrek a steady look that read "what-do-you-take-me-for," and got to work. He reproduced the formula from earlier with a slight alteration; he added a mineral that retarded the combustion rate of the concoction—simply a dash of salt. A dollop of the fluid was poured evenly into four small flasks held between splayed fingers, and corked methodically.
Kaja's actions were so quick and accurate, Strongarm had hardly made any progress. He sped up his task of dragging his axe like a hoe across the asphalt, widening the crack as he went. When he was finally finished, Kaja began placing the vials at equal increments along the line like seeds. They were almost lost to sight among the light now streaming brightly from the ground. Backing away from their handiwork, Kaja looked up at the warrior. "And now? The solution requires a stimulation, a cause to explode. In this case, exposure to air. How do we cause simultaneous exposure?"
Kagrek muttered the command word to activate the magics hidden within his axe. As the flame surrounded the blade, the barbarian sliced an arc through the air above his head, causing the flame to erupt and separate off of the blade's edge into the near atmosphere.
"Overkill, but yes, that will be more than sufficient.
…Speaking of overkill."
Across the seam and down the street a-ways, they could see a figure approaching another pairing of contestants. The demoness was headed straight for them, an undiscriminating malice in her glowing eyes.