Re: Epic Clash Final Round - Mnemonocyst Bearers
03-24-2011, 09:31 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.
“Glere!”
The Fishbowlkin turned, a scowl already forming upon the glass. The handful of salt he tossed didn't actually stop Asteira, but she paused out of courtesy anyway.
“I'm not a vampire, Glere. But Spender said him and I were dead. Can you just forget our feud and tell me what's going on?”
“No,” Glere replied flatly. Keegan chose this moment to interrupt the unhappy reunion.
“Is she one of yours?”
Glere snapped out of radiating hostility, startled at the Ender's question. “Well yes, but-”
“She flammable?”
“Well, I wouldn't dock points if she wasn't,” Glere finally managed. He tried not to look at Asteira's open-mouthed objection at that, taking a few safe steps away as Keegan conjured up a fireball. “I've, uh... got someone else to catch up with. I'll even award you double the score for this one!”
“Wait.” Glere halted his sprint, with obvious reluctance. Great. Now Asteira and Keegan were eyeing him up.
“She tricky or something?”
“The worst, Keegan. The absolute worst.”
Glere was struggling to figure out how he felt when he saw the brief look of pride on the ghost-girl's features, but was already running for his life when Keegan launched a pillar of fire beneath her feet.
Gotta find Spender before that little firebug does, methinks... Oh. Wow.
The second mnemonocyst rose above the horizon until it hung clearly above; the black arc of the Propaelyum some ways off in the distance. Right in the impact zone. Just brilliant. Glere pulled out some gardening shears, then a spade, then gave the task at hand a little more consideration and pulled out a chainsaw.
One bomb shelter-sized cube of meat carved from the rubbery floor later, the Fishbowlkin was fossicking about for something to cap it. A manhole cover fit the botttleneck opening perfectly, and Glere jumped in just as he spotted Keegan lumbering over the horizon. Something about his stagger seemed off – Glere clicked and padlocked the chain on his makeshift door just in time.
The shelter was lit with a faint purple tinge from the floor; it appeared Glere's excavations had scraped near the bottom of the psychic star's skin. The Fishbowlkin pulled out a stool, a pipe, and a fishing rod as he carved a neat little hole while Keegan screamed something overhead.
“I know you're in there, you jerk! I want this stupid ghost out of my head RIGHT NOW!”
Something nibbled on the end of Glere's line as he sighed. Yup, just as he'd expected. There was a whoomph from outside as Keegan failed to incinerate his way in.
“GLERE! LET ME IN!”
Oh would you look at that, he was putting explosive charges round the manhole cover's rim. An umbrella was extracted, but Glere was interrupted by something violet and psychic squirming up the length of the fishing line, and latching onto his hand. It writhed a bit, more purple forcing its way out of the core. Even as the heavy iron lid burst off with a snap of the chain, he found himself quite unable to tear off the pulsing tendril, despite vaguely feeling like it was a bad idea.
Then the shelter was aflame. Keegan jumped in about a minute later, glared sullenly at the cloak hovering in the corner (singed, but still intact), and leaned against a char-grilled wall until the Fishbowlkin got his bearings (and a body) back.
An armoured, headless knight stepped forth from the cape, beat the ash from it, and fixed it round his neck before searching inside for a bowling ball. He found two, put one on his head, and one rather firmly in the hole the mnemonocyst core had wormed its way out of.
“Right, um... sorry about that. And thanks. I think. Ok! Explosion imminent. I suppose you can hide in here with me, but no trouble. From either of you. Got it?”
“But she won't get out of my head!” whined Keegan.
“Asteira, do you have any intention of coming out and facing this situation with a shred of honour?”
“No,” Asteira replied sulkily, after struggling to acquire control of the Ender for even the briefest moment.
“No, Keegan, she won't get out of your head. You see quite equipped to handle it though, so it's probably for the best. Now,” Glere said, pulling out a stepladder to exit the shelter, “where's that lid of mine got to? Ah!”
In a few minutes, the trio crouched rather awkwardly in the gloom, waiting for the inevitable.
“I'm bored.”
Glere ignored the Ender. There was a nagging, more insistent than Keegan's, in his head about something important but forgotten. It was annoying. Keegan eventually fell silent; Glere assumed he was talking to his resident Umbra.
A persistent, suitably apocalyptic kind of rumble slowly increased in volume. The little bomb shelter's temperature clicked up slowly, toward unbearably hot. The walls shook and flexed and crushed down upon them and seemed to threaten to break as the spheres impacted, but they never heard a particularly emphatic kaboom.
Gravity finally seemed to agree on an arbitrary direction, so Keegan took initiative and leapt easily for the manhole cover. It floated away.
“Woah...”
Glere glanced up at the Ender's exclamation, and jumped lightly up after him in the reduced gravity. In the middle distance of the debris field remained the Propylaeum, miraculously intact on one of the larger planetoids of mnemonocyst.
Beneath the obsidian arches, most of the energy from the collision swirled and roared. Glere imagined he could feel the heat on his bowling ball face from here.
“How far is that to being completed?”
“Uh... I'd say three quarters. Give or take a river of lava.”
“A volcano-” Glere paused for a minute, rubbing his chin “-is a severe oversight in my current inventory. But where there's a will, there's a way! Keen to help?”
“I guess... but I guess this means Teival didn't do me a favour and die already. I mean, I know your opponent looked pretty wimpy, but shouldn't you be worrying about them as well?”
“I – hm.” So that had been the niggling feeling. “Shouldn't be a problem,” Glere finally managed, without sounding too uneasy. “Just... stay away from the purple stuff, ok?”
“Glere!”
The Fishbowlkin turned, a scowl already forming upon the glass. The handful of salt he tossed didn't actually stop Asteira, but she paused out of courtesy anyway.
“I'm not a vampire, Glere. But Spender said him and I were dead. Can you just forget our feud and tell me what's going on?”
“No,” Glere replied flatly. Keegan chose this moment to interrupt the unhappy reunion.
“Is she one of yours?”
Glere snapped out of radiating hostility, startled at the Ender's question. “Well yes, but-”
“She flammable?”
“Well, I wouldn't dock points if she wasn't,” Glere finally managed. He tried not to look at Asteira's open-mouthed objection at that, taking a few safe steps away as Keegan conjured up a fireball. “I've, uh... got someone else to catch up with. I'll even award you double the score for this one!”
“Wait.” Glere halted his sprint, with obvious reluctance. Great. Now Asteira and Keegan were eyeing him up.
“She tricky or something?”
“The worst, Keegan. The absolute worst.”
Glere was struggling to figure out how he felt when he saw the brief look of pride on the ghost-girl's features, but was already running for his life when Keegan launched a pillar of fire beneath her feet.
Gotta find Spender before that little firebug does, methinks... Oh. Wow.
The second mnemonocyst rose above the horizon until it hung clearly above; the black arc of the Propaelyum some ways off in the distance. Right in the impact zone. Just brilliant. Glere pulled out some gardening shears, then a spade, then gave the task at hand a little more consideration and pulled out a chainsaw.
One bomb shelter-sized cube of meat carved from the rubbery floor later, the Fishbowlkin was fossicking about for something to cap it. A manhole cover fit the botttleneck opening perfectly, and Glere jumped in just as he spotted Keegan lumbering over the horizon. Something about his stagger seemed off – Glere clicked and padlocked the chain on his makeshift door just in time.
The shelter was lit with a faint purple tinge from the floor; it appeared Glere's excavations had scraped near the bottom of the psychic star's skin. The Fishbowlkin pulled out a stool, a pipe, and a fishing rod as he carved a neat little hole while Keegan screamed something overhead.
“I know you're in there, you jerk! I want this stupid ghost out of my head RIGHT NOW!”
Something nibbled on the end of Glere's line as he sighed. Yup, just as he'd expected. There was a whoomph from outside as Keegan failed to incinerate his way in.
“GLERE! LET ME IN!”
Oh would you look at that, he was putting explosive charges round the manhole cover's rim. An umbrella was extracted, but Glere was interrupted by something violet and psychic squirming up the length of the fishing line, and latching onto his hand. It writhed a bit, more purple forcing its way out of the core. Even as the heavy iron lid burst off with a snap of the chain, he found himself quite unable to tear off the pulsing tendril, despite vaguely feeling like it was a bad idea.
Then the shelter was aflame. Keegan jumped in about a minute later, glared sullenly at the cloak hovering in the corner (singed, but still intact), and leaned against a char-grilled wall until the Fishbowlkin got his bearings (and a body) back.
An armoured, headless knight stepped forth from the cape, beat the ash from it, and fixed it round his neck before searching inside for a bowling ball. He found two, put one on his head, and one rather firmly in the hole the mnemonocyst core had wormed its way out of.
“Right, um... sorry about that. And thanks. I think. Ok! Explosion imminent. I suppose you can hide in here with me, but no trouble. From either of you. Got it?”
“But she won't get out of my head!” whined Keegan.
“Asteira, do you have any intention of coming out and facing this situation with a shred of honour?”
“No,” Asteira replied sulkily, after struggling to acquire control of the Ender for even the briefest moment.
“No, Keegan, she won't get out of your head. You see quite equipped to handle it though, so it's probably for the best. Now,” Glere said, pulling out a stepladder to exit the shelter, “where's that lid of mine got to? Ah!”
In a few minutes, the trio crouched rather awkwardly in the gloom, waiting for the inevitable.
“I'm bored.”
Glere ignored the Ender. There was a nagging, more insistent than Keegan's, in his head about something important but forgotten. It was annoying. Keegan eventually fell silent; Glere assumed he was talking to his resident Umbra.
A persistent, suitably apocalyptic kind of rumble slowly increased in volume. The little bomb shelter's temperature clicked up slowly, toward unbearably hot. The walls shook and flexed and crushed down upon them and seemed to threaten to break as the spheres impacted, but they never heard a particularly emphatic kaboom.
Gravity finally seemed to agree on an arbitrary direction, so Keegan took initiative and leapt easily for the manhole cover. It floated away.
“Woah...”
Glere glanced up at the Ender's exclamation, and jumped lightly up after him in the reduced gravity. In the middle distance of the debris field remained the Propylaeum, miraculously intact on one of the larger planetoids of mnemonocyst.
Beneath the obsidian arches, most of the energy from the collision swirled and roared. Glere imagined he could feel the heat on his bowling ball face from here.
“How far is that to being completed?”
“Uh... I'd say three quarters. Give or take a river of lava.”
“A volcano-” Glere paused for a minute, rubbing his chin “-is a severe oversight in my current inventory. But where there's a will, there's a way! Keen to help?”
“I guess... but I guess this means Teival didn't do me a favour and die already. I mean, I know your opponent looked pretty wimpy, but shouldn't you be worrying about them as well?”
“I – hm.” So that had been the niggling feeling. “Shouldn't be a problem,” Glere finally managed, without sounding too uneasy. “Just... stay away from the purple stuff, ok?”
peace to the unsung peace to the martyrs | i'm johnny rotten appleseed
clouds is shaky love | broke as hell but i got a bunch of ringtones
eyes blood red bruise aubergine | Sue took something now Sue doesn't sleep | saint average, day in the life of
woke up in the noon smelling doom and death | out the house, great outdoors
staying warm in arctic blizzard | that's my battle 'til I get inanimate | still up in the same clothes living like a gameshow
clouds is shaky love | broke as hell but i got a bunch of ringtones
eyes blood red bruise aubergine | Sue took something now Sue doesn't sleep | saint average, day in the life of
woke up in the noon smelling doom and death | out the house, great outdoors
staying warm in arctic blizzard | that's my battle 'til I get inanimate | still up in the same clothes living like a gameshow