Re: Epic Clash Final Round - Mnemonocyst Bearers
12-20-2010, 05:51 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Pinary.
The ground was squishy, and as Thomas lay where he'd fallen after being released by the bubble, he could feel it alive below him. The whole thing was moving, shifting, horrible things sliding over one another beneath the tough, rubbery skin. Even worse, below all that, there was a steady, rhythmic beat, the constant thub-thub that could only be the thing's pulse.
In the charred, devastated wreck of Thomas' mind, the four personalities debated. Eric, unsurprisingly, was advocating seeking out their other contestant and convincing them that peace was best for both of them. Bern also thought they should look for the other person, but he thought they should take a more direct, physical approach to negotiations. Greg wanted to just find and observe them, waiting until they knew more to act. Walt didn't offer an opinion, distracted by something that felt off about the room, something more than just the fact that it was in ruins around them. The others didn't seem to notice, content to play out the same argument they'd had time and time again- diplomacy, confrontation, and observation compared anew. It was comforting, in a way, to go through the familiar motions- "A misinformed decision could be a disastrous one," Greg would say. "We don't have much choice in allies, we should take what we can get," Eric would respond. "We don't have time to sit back and watch," Bern would argue. They were untold universes away from home, with their mind around them blasted to cinders, but they could at least take solace in the ritual debate.
It wasn't long before Greg won out, convincing the others that his was the best option for today. Walt was given control, his dexterity useful on the soft, living terrain, and they slowly set out.
"So these blister things pull stuff out of our memories?", Bern asked, staring out the window at the landscape.
"We shouldn't assume anything about the mechanism," Greg replied, "but it's more likely that they make copies. I can't imagine they'd take the original person or object from where it is, and it would hardly be useful if, once created, we were to forget what had been created."
"There's another question that's more important than how," Eric mused. "There haven't been many people close to us throughout our life. Objects aside, what are they likely to pick?"
"Well, there's Watcher, for one."
Eric shot Bern a look. "Well, yes, but I can't imagine he'll actually do much."
Greg started to go for a whiteboard before remembering that they were gone. A bit halfheartedly, he began ticking things off on his fingers as he spoke. "Family is unlikely, given that we moved to the other side of the city for school and never really talk to them very much. Kieth, perhaps, given that we work with him on a daily basis. It's not likely to be able to create any of our friends on the datanet, given that we really only communicate by text."
"Yeah, I doubt it," Eric added. "I guess-"
"Shh." Walt cut him off with a wave of his hand. About thirty meters away, in a direction mostly perpendicular to their travel, a mid-sized blister was swelling, the ground's pulse thub-thubbing louder, louder, building up until, moments later, the thing burst. Foul-smelling smoke poured out, billowing clouds obscuring everything nearby. It covered the area like a dense fog, dissipating much too slowly for Thomas' tastes.
"Eric," Walt said, simply turning over control and letting the other personality clear some of the smoke. Eric, unfortunately, stumbled backwards over a lump in the ground, falling flat on his back.
A heeled shoe pressed down on his chest. The woman it belonged to was still partially obscured, but the crisp slacks and modest jacket, both the same shade of characteristic lavender, gave Thomas a good idea of who it was.
-
Elsewhere on the living sphere, Teival was grappling with his past as well.
The knife grazed his arm, making him lose his grip just long enough for his brother to slip out. "You're getting old, Teival. Getting sloppy." The whip across the face was more of a taunt than anything.
"You are not my brother," Teival reiterated, catching the whip as it lashed out again and pulling his opponent down to his knees. "You are a mere construct of this place, and once I am rid of you, I will finish the imp as well."
"Once you are rid of me?" Kanek dismissed the whip and replaced it with a staff. "At your best, you were my equal, and you'll hardly be able to take me on now!" As a demonstration, he swung the staff around, sweeping out one of Teival's knees and sending him to the ground.
"This is irrelevant," Teival spat, rolling up to kneel on one foot, bracing himself with his hands. "You have no soul, and that makes you nothing more than a distraction. You have no meaning, no life."
Kanek stalked towards him, staff sharpening into a spear. "Ah, but that's temporary." He lowered the staff to his brother's throat, smirking. "You have a multitude of souls stored, and once I kill you, they will be mine to do with as I please."
-
"Where am I, who are you, and what is going on?", the woman asked, her voice barely maintaining the professionalism she was so well-known known for. The personal taser she held probably helped her confidence a bit.
"Of course," Eric replied, laughing a bit in relief. "That's just too appropriate."
"Answer the questions," she said, gesturing a bit with the taser. The fog was clearing a bit, revealing her face- jaw set, eyes boring straight down at Thomas.
"Alright, alright. We know better than to stand between you and your answers. Where we are is a long story and we're missing a fair chunk of it, we're called Thomas, and we're stuck in a battle to the death. Satisfied, Ms. Stacey?"
-
Staring up the spear, Teival spoke calmly. "Do you know your greatest failing, Kanek?"
Kanek quirked an eyebrow, his smirk widening. "Tell me, brother. With your last breath, tell me why you are so superior to me."
"Your greatest failing, Kanek, is your lack of imagination." The chains he'd burrowed into the ground and brought curving around behind his brother surged forward, wrapping themselves around Kanek's limbs and holding him tight. "You were lazy, formulaic, and predictable, and that made you weak. You practiced the same moves day and night, and that blinded you to the possibilities. You practiced in the same location, on the same surfaces, and you eliminated that from your considerations.
"You are a fool, Kanek." With a jerk, one of the chains snapped his brother's neck. The spear vanished.
Dispelling the chains, Teival stood. The fog had long since dissipated, leaving him alone with the body, staring at the distant sphere hovering over the horizon.
-
After a few seconds, Linda Stacey, host of award-winning news program Events of Import, lowered her taser and extended her hand. "Well enough," she replied.
Eric took the proffered hand and stood. "Excellent! We should probably get moving- there's another combatant somewhere on this ball, and he's not likely to be very polite."
The ground was squishy, and as Thomas lay where he'd fallen after being released by the bubble, he could feel it alive below him. The whole thing was moving, shifting, horrible things sliding over one another beneath the tough, rubbery skin. Even worse, below all that, there was a steady, rhythmic beat, the constant thub-thub that could only be the thing's pulse.
In the charred, devastated wreck of Thomas' mind, the four personalities debated. Eric, unsurprisingly, was advocating seeking out their other contestant and convincing them that peace was best for both of them. Bern also thought they should look for the other person, but he thought they should take a more direct, physical approach to negotiations. Greg wanted to just find and observe them, waiting until they knew more to act. Walt didn't offer an opinion, distracted by something that felt off about the room, something more than just the fact that it was in ruins around them. The others didn't seem to notice, content to play out the same argument they'd had time and time again- diplomacy, confrontation, and observation compared anew. It was comforting, in a way, to go through the familiar motions- "A misinformed decision could be a disastrous one," Greg would say. "We don't have much choice in allies, we should take what we can get," Eric would respond. "We don't have time to sit back and watch," Bern would argue. They were untold universes away from home, with their mind around them blasted to cinders, but they could at least take solace in the ritual debate.
It wasn't long before Greg won out, convincing the others that his was the best option for today. Walt was given control, his dexterity useful on the soft, living terrain, and they slowly set out.
"So these blister things pull stuff out of our memories?", Bern asked, staring out the window at the landscape.
"We shouldn't assume anything about the mechanism," Greg replied, "but it's more likely that they make copies. I can't imagine they'd take the original person or object from where it is, and it would hardly be useful if, once created, we were to forget what had been created."
"There's another question that's more important than how," Eric mused. "There haven't been many people close to us throughout our life. Objects aside, what are they likely to pick?"
"Well, there's Watcher, for one."
Eric shot Bern a look. "Well, yes, but I can't imagine he'll actually do much."
Greg started to go for a whiteboard before remembering that they were gone. A bit halfheartedly, he began ticking things off on his fingers as he spoke. "Family is unlikely, given that we moved to the other side of the city for school and never really talk to them very much. Kieth, perhaps, given that we work with him on a daily basis. It's not likely to be able to create any of our friends on the datanet, given that we really only communicate by text."
"Yeah, I doubt it," Eric added. "I guess-"
"Shh." Walt cut him off with a wave of his hand. About thirty meters away, in a direction mostly perpendicular to their travel, a mid-sized blister was swelling, the ground's pulse thub-thubbing louder, louder, building up until, moments later, the thing burst. Foul-smelling smoke poured out, billowing clouds obscuring everything nearby. It covered the area like a dense fog, dissipating much too slowly for Thomas' tastes.
"Eric," Walt said, simply turning over control and letting the other personality clear some of the smoke. Eric, unfortunately, stumbled backwards over a lump in the ground, falling flat on his back.
A heeled shoe pressed down on his chest. The woman it belonged to was still partially obscured, but the crisp slacks and modest jacket, both the same shade of characteristic lavender, gave Thomas a good idea of who it was.
-
Elsewhere on the living sphere, Teival was grappling with his past as well.
The knife grazed his arm, making him lose his grip just long enough for his brother to slip out. "You're getting old, Teival. Getting sloppy." The whip across the face was more of a taunt than anything.
"You are not my brother," Teival reiterated, catching the whip as it lashed out again and pulling his opponent down to his knees. "You are a mere construct of this place, and once I am rid of you, I will finish the imp as well."
"Once you are rid of me?" Kanek dismissed the whip and replaced it with a staff. "At your best, you were my equal, and you'll hardly be able to take me on now!" As a demonstration, he swung the staff around, sweeping out one of Teival's knees and sending him to the ground.
"This is irrelevant," Teival spat, rolling up to kneel on one foot, bracing himself with his hands. "You have no soul, and that makes you nothing more than a distraction. You have no meaning, no life."
Kanek stalked towards him, staff sharpening into a spear. "Ah, but that's temporary." He lowered the staff to his brother's throat, smirking. "You have a multitude of souls stored, and once I kill you, they will be mine to do with as I please."
-
"Where am I, who are you, and what is going on?", the woman asked, her voice barely maintaining the professionalism she was so well-known known for. The personal taser she held probably helped her confidence a bit.
"Of course," Eric replied, laughing a bit in relief. "That's just too appropriate."
"Answer the questions," she said, gesturing a bit with the taser. The fog was clearing a bit, revealing her face- jaw set, eyes boring straight down at Thomas.
"Alright, alright. We know better than to stand between you and your answers. Where we are is a long story and we're missing a fair chunk of it, we're called Thomas, and we're stuck in a battle to the death. Satisfied, Ms. Stacey?"
-
Staring up the spear, Teival spoke calmly. "Do you know your greatest failing, Kanek?"
Kanek quirked an eyebrow, his smirk widening. "Tell me, brother. With your last breath, tell me why you are so superior to me."
"Your greatest failing, Kanek, is your lack of imagination." The chains he'd burrowed into the ground and brought curving around behind his brother surged forward, wrapping themselves around Kanek's limbs and holding him tight. "You were lazy, formulaic, and predictable, and that made you weak. You practiced the same moves day and night, and that blinded you to the possibilities. You practiced in the same location, on the same surfaces, and you eliminated that from your considerations.
"You are a fool, Kanek." With a jerk, one of the chains snapped his brother's neck. The spear vanished.
Dispelling the chains, Teival stood. The fog had long since dissipated, leaving him alone with the body, staring at the distant sphere hovering over the horizon.
-
After a few seconds, Linda Stacey, host of award-winning news program Events of Import, lowered her taser and extended her hand. "Well enough," she replied.
Eric took the proffered hand and stood. "Excellent! We should probably get moving- there's another combatant somewhere on this ball, and he's not likely to be very polite."