Re: Epic Clash Round 4 - The Unholy Fortress
11-06-2010, 11:02 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Wojjan.
The corridors of icy-blue stone gradually morphed to a more cimmerian wall, bejeweled with glowing jaspers. The shadows of Asteira and Thomas had long since disappeared, though if he'd looked more closely their peering eyes would still reflect in the red orbs upon the wall. The dark tunnel winded deep into the ground, Spender himself exerting his eyes to see where exactly the road was taking him.
He arrived at an enormous dark plaza, upon wich an obsidian altar seemed to serve as the centerpiece. A hendecagon of robed men stood circled around a corpse on the altar, which seemed to stand up once again. The man's sweater seemed to light up with an occult image of sorts, he believed, and a viridian green wristband around his right hand.
Upon closer inspection however Spender noticed the dark demon he believed stood a while away from him was in all actuality Thomas Packston, the only sane person left in this gruesome contest. The young boy from the future seemed confused, but yet dedicated, and his constant gaze towards the agent indicated he had spotted him.
In an incredibly swift maneuver Thomas jumped off the alter to sprint in Spender's direction. He passed the special agent by, blocking the only exit in sight. Spender was surprised and he knew that was a bad sign. He didn't remember being shocked was such a strange feeling.
Asteira was still struggling to carry Glere's body with her. So far she had incredible ease to take over control from someone else, but the exact absence of a mind seemed to have a mind on its own. The arms wobbled, knees buckled, glass fishbowls cracked and rthe final result was for Asteira to start anew from the ground again. It soon became very irritating.
But suddenly Asteira had much easier control of Glere's carcass, which to her indicated the presence of... something. A certain person staring over her shoulder, breathing into her neck and making her hair stand upright, but never saying a single word. A truly jarring experience.
"I know you're there."
Something behind her spoke up.
"Spender is downstairs. He lost his ATM, he knows he's losing grasp on the situation, and the spirits from this castle are taking their toll on him. Go get him, this is the perfect time."
"You seem to know exactly what I was planning."
The spirit felt he had a fair chance at controlling the strange woman he possessed, but those were only false hopes. Asteira soon countered those expectations.
"That would mean you're a voice in my head, and thus not worth listening to."
Asteira now noticed the voice had an odd resemblance to... herself.
"Even if I am, I know where he is. I also know he's pretty much the only one who can pose a threat to you. And I know he's your top priority to emilinate."
She grinned. "Alright, me, you make a good point."
Asteira spun around, dropping the talons she figured would be appropriate to control Glere with, and saw in the ruins of Glere's former labyrinth a mirror, with a very besmudged surface. As if the person in the mirror was left to her inspiration, but she could guess it was something she could relate to.
"But still, you have ways to go. We're a team on this, no? Once you kill one of us, you're rid of us all. You can find whatever you were planning to search for. Let's start by getting a name from you."
"Let's start by walking to the bottom first! We can save names for when we need them."
The apparently-so team went on down.
Greg, stop it! This isn't you!
"But he's there, Eric! Khar'yion is there and he'll save us from this battle!"
Come on Greg, you're the logical type. If only you can hear him that must mean something! Khar'yion doesn't exist, he's just the castle's grip on you!
Thomas Packston fell mute and immobile at those flickerings in his mind, and his body barely remained able to stand up, arms dangling in front of his torso. Greg rose from his control.
How dare you... How dare you talk about our god like that!
Greg clenched his fists and walked up to Eric. The logical man had a truly frightening aura to him, something overly emotional that didn't fit in the big picture of his being. A disturbance large enough for him to actually want to hurt his three lifelong comrades. In a swift flail Greg's fist, enforced with shreds of rock, smashed into Eric's stomach. The young man collapsed onto the carpet as did Thomas onto the rocky bed of dust covering the ground.
Oh, that's it, you looking for a fight, Greg? Because if you're gonna, I'm gonna!
The confusion rised in the special agent as the boy he recently agreed to help, and who would no doubt return that favor in any way possible, careered in his general direction, and threw well-aimed punches at Spender with some strange clumsy precision. Not only that, but after a few wild swings, the boy simply stopped. He didn't even noticably breathe, he was in a complete standstill due to no one being in control anymore.
When suddenly, completely unnoticed by any of the four personalities, something snuck in.
Thomas grasped at his head, and echoed an incredibly coarse scream into the caverns. The cult chamber trembled, as spires started to rise from the ground as lava slowly filled the spots between. The pressure in the walls quickly built up as a gushing geyser exploded out of a ginger stone, dissolving in the lava to create a thick steam. Apparitions began drafting up in the fog due to someone's careful control of all the elements. The room fillled with the prognosticus of the insane god the colonists had released ages ago, and the arch-acolyte couldn't help but grin. The prophecy was there, Khar'yion would swallow and devastate.
The corridors of icy-blue stone gradually morphed to a more cimmerian wall, bejeweled with glowing jaspers. The shadows of Asteira and Thomas had long since disappeared, though if he'd looked more closely their peering eyes would still reflect in the red orbs upon the wall. The dark tunnel winded deep into the ground, Spender himself exerting his eyes to see where exactly the road was taking him.
He arrived at an enormous dark plaza, upon wich an obsidian altar seemed to serve as the centerpiece. A hendecagon of robed men stood circled around a corpse on the altar, which seemed to stand up once again. The man's sweater seemed to light up with an occult image of sorts, he believed, and a viridian green wristband around his right hand.
Upon closer inspection however Spender noticed the dark demon he believed stood a while away from him was in all actuality Thomas Packston, the only sane person left in this gruesome contest. The young boy from the future seemed confused, but yet dedicated, and his constant gaze towards the agent indicated he had spotted him.
In an incredibly swift maneuver Thomas jumped off the alter to sprint in Spender's direction. He passed the special agent by, blocking the only exit in sight. Spender was surprised and he knew that was a bad sign. He didn't remember being shocked was such a strange feeling.
Asteira was still struggling to carry Glere's body with her. So far she had incredible ease to take over control from someone else, but the exact absence of a mind seemed to have a mind on its own. The arms wobbled, knees buckled, glass fishbowls cracked and rthe final result was for Asteira to start anew from the ground again. It soon became very irritating.
But suddenly Asteira had much easier control of Glere's carcass, which to her indicated the presence of... something. A certain person staring over her shoulder, breathing into her neck and making her hair stand upright, but never saying a single word. A truly jarring experience.
"I know you're there."
Something behind her spoke up.
"Spender is downstairs. He lost his ATM, he knows he's losing grasp on the situation, and the spirits from this castle are taking their toll on him. Go get him, this is the perfect time."
"You seem to know exactly what I was planning."
The spirit felt he had a fair chance at controlling the strange woman he possessed, but those were only false hopes. Asteira soon countered those expectations.
"That would mean you're a voice in my head, and thus not worth listening to."
Asteira now noticed the voice had an odd resemblance to... herself.
"Even if I am, I know where he is. I also know he's pretty much the only one who can pose a threat to you. And I know he's your top priority to emilinate."
She grinned. "Alright, me, you make a good point."
Asteira spun around, dropping the talons she figured would be appropriate to control Glere with, and saw in the ruins of Glere's former labyrinth a mirror, with a very besmudged surface. As if the person in the mirror was left to her inspiration, but she could guess it was something she could relate to.
"But still, you have ways to go. We're a team on this, no? Once you kill one of us, you're rid of us all. You can find whatever you were planning to search for. Let's start by getting a name from you."
"Let's start by walking to the bottom first! We can save names for when we need them."
The apparently-so team went on down.
Greg, stop it! This isn't you!
"But he's there, Eric! Khar'yion is there and he'll save us from this battle!"
Come on Greg, you're the logical type. If only you can hear him that must mean something! Khar'yion doesn't exist, he's just the castle's grip on you!
Thomas Packston fell mute and immobile at those flickerings in his mind, and his body barely remained able to stand up, arms dangling in front of his torso. Greg rose from his control.
How dare you... How dare you talk about our god like that!
Greg clenched his fists and walked up to Eric. The logical man had a truly frightening aura to him, something overly emotional that didn't fit in the big picture of his being. A disturbance large enough for him to actually want to hurt his three lifelong comrades. In a swift flail Greg's fist, enforced with shreds of rock, smashed into Eric's stomach. The young man collapsed onto the carpet as did Thomas onto the rocky bed of dust covering the ground.
Oh, that's it, you looking for a fight, Greg? Because if you're gonna, I'm gonna!
The confusion rised in the special agent as the boy he recently agreed to help, and who would no doubt return that favor in any way possible, careered in his general direction, and threw well-aimed punches at Spender with some strange clumsy precision. Not only that, but after a few wild swings, the boy simply stopped. He didn't even noticably breathe, he was in a complete standstill due to no one being in control anymore.
When suddenly, completely unnoticed by any of the four personalities, something snuck in.
Thomas grasped at his head, and echoed an incredibly coarse scream into the caverns. The cult chamber trembled, as spires started to rise from the ground as lava slowly filled the spots between. The pressure in the walls quickly built up as a gushing geyser exploded out of a ginger stone, dissolving in the lava to create a thick steam. Apparitions began drafting up in the fog due to someone's careful control of all the elements. The room fillled with the prognosticus of the insane god the colonists had released ages ago, and the arch-acolyte couldn't help but grin. The prophecy was there, Khar'yion would swallow and devastate.
quidquid Latine dictum sit altum videtur.