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Woffles · 08-14-2011, 01:04 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Wojjan.

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GBCE · 08-14-2011, 07:36 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by XX.

this ghost smells Death.

this ghost is fast, this ghost is clever, but this ghost fears what all must fear in time, all must fear fear no fear no fear. fear fire fear Winter but most of all Death

“DEATH”

i see you Death, i see you. this ghost has many eyes but none so blind as that, no, no death. no fear no fire no fear.

i smell it in the air, i smell it on the wind, this ghost smells it on the rats behind the walls here in their nests, creep creep little rats what are you to a ghost? what is Death to a ghost? no fear. no fear. the eggs in winter, the frozen limbs, the tiny ghosts of this ghost’s nest that this ghost ate. this ghost carries Death on her bones

she knows it when she sees it

the shape of a mouse, the face of a mouse, little mouse claws. little mouse sounds. fake mouse fake mouse dead mouse wearing the skin of the living.

“Is something the matter?”

Death has the honor to speak to her.

the ghost rears, the ghost hisses, the ghost knows her fangs are long and sharp where they hide underneath her, now in the air towards Death. “Imposter,” the ghost screams, the ghost is loud when the Silence is gone, “I see you dead under your skin, rat. Dead dead dead!”

Winter calls, the ghost listens. Winter says this is no threat but Winter is wrong this time, she smells Death thick like snow on the ground. the ghost hisses, loud loud loud stay away death this is not your place not your Winter this is my Winter you find your own. she moves between them, pushes Winter away with her legs, safe. safe safe this ghost is a wall between Winter and Death and Winter will not come to harm. Death is nothing to this ghost

the other mice squeak, beyond them the other rats are coming. this ghost is clever, this ghost is swift. she knows the rats are coming for her but she is swift! she will kill this rat, this Death, and then she will kill the others. kill them all kill them all this ghost is coming for you, mice mice rats. run run while you can this ghost hunts in Silence

no sound, no sound. the ghost in winter calls the Silence

she sees Death balk as she leaps and the ghost is in the air as she strikes

GBCE · 08-15-2011, 03:06 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Dwayna DragonFire.

His brain was fast enough to process the passage of time between wormholes, but for some reason he still had trouble grasping just what had transpired. One moment he was getting ready to attack, the next all of the contestants met his vision, save one of the Sparkklechix. His memory processors kicked into gear, identifying the other humanoid as 'Mattilus', obviously being the one who had transported the others here in the first place.

Right now, there were more pressing matters in Edward's mind. The one known as 'Naiima' saw him as a high threat for some reason, so he was attacked by the giant spider, legs descending towards his current position rapidly. All sounds and screams dissipated into nothingness because of the spider's abilities, so in this moment of slow motion the world around him became almost disquiet.

He moved out of the way reflexively, still trying to keep his body between the spider and the girls in his company. The spider had called him Death before the sound disappeared, so part of him started working on what that could possibly mean. Dead under my skin... he thought, and a revelation came to him in that moment. The spider somehow knew what he was, underneath his disguise and illusions. It knows I am a machine.

This was no time to feel vulnerable, though, as more claws and gnashing teeth lunged towards him. He moved this time away from the Sparkklechix, to a more favorable position for himself, unfortunately leaving the girls vulnerable. Edward's visor flashed to a moment of sadness before turning back to anger, knowing he needed to act quickly else all would be lost.

Edward outstretched his hand again, pressing the red button this time to make the now revealed disc in his hand glow red. He cared little for how the girls might judge him now, thinking only on his survival and to fight against this spider who saw him for what he was. He aimed and pressed the button, a jet of flame shooting from the disc outwards in a sweeping motion as he maneuvered himself into a different angle.

He realized that in part, he had wanted the attention of the spider to be drawn to him. If he did not survive this conflict, the girls would survive beyond him and live a little longer. Another jet of flame shot from his hand as thoughts of their survival now plagued his mind as well. Visions of the Queen's face flashed in his mind also, giving him courage enough to try to make it through this.

For them. For her.

Ixcaliber · 08-16-2011, 02:19 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Ixcalibur.

“Edward!” Mindy had to be physically restrained by the other chix to stop her from attempting to protect the cyborg from the deadly spider. “Let me go!” she attempted to untangle herself from the others.

“Stand back!” Edward replied, momentarily glancing towards the chix. His visor momentarily flashed a shade of light pink, before turning back to dark red. “Seriously stand back. I’m doing this to protect you.”

Mindy swooned. “Oh my.” She said. “What a hero!” The other chix rolled their eyes and dragged her away from her ‘hero’, away from any imminent danger, as Naiima quickly took advantage of Edward’s momentary distraction and they fought. Zafira and Sara paid little attention to the fight, while Mindy was transfixed, gasping in horror every time Naiima appeared to have the upper hand and giggling merrily when Edward seemed to be winning. She audibly shrieked as Naiima bit Edward, but cheered wildly when it appeared that her venom didn’t affect the cyborg. Zafira looked around at the police officers that had them surrounded and their opponents, all more dangerous and more violent than they were.

“Well we’re screwed.” She said plainly.

--------

Stranded on the other side of the fight Atasha smirked to herself, Mattilus had used up all his power on that wormhole spell, without it he was just a guy with a book. “Hey Matty?” she said. As he turned to face her, she slapped him in the face. “Now listen up magic boy. You may think you’re a big shot with your fancy book of spells and whatever, but you ain’t so tough now are you?” Atasha laughed to herself. “Ain’t nobody gets to talk to Atasha like that! You better apologise!”

“Or what?” Mattilus snarled back. He might not have been as strong as the other Brenites, but he was not helpless. “…Or nothing.” He concluded when Atasha did not respond. He swung his heavy tome at the chik, knocking her to the floor. “Looks like I managed to find the other chix without your help after all.” He said, raising his tome over his head. “You are completely worthless.”

“I don’t care what they say…” Atasha began to sing quietly. Mattilus paused, raising a dubious eyebrow. “…It doesn’t have to be this way.” Her voice was shaky but growing louder and more confident with every word she sung.

--------

As Atasha started singing, Zafira sighed heavily. “Do we have to?” she moaned. “We don’t even have Debbie here.” Sara nodded wearily, and they began to sing along.

“Believe in yourself you’ll be okay.” Sara shook Mindy out of her hero worship and encouraged her to join in, which she did reluctantly. “Let the light in on a brand new day…”

--------

As the chix sang across the beach their competitors and the cautiously approaching police officers suddenly stopped what they were doing and began to dance along with the song. They instantly knew all the dance moves and they sang along to the chorus:

“Stixx and stonez may break my bones, but words will never hurt me...”

SpoilerShow

Ixcaliber · 08-27-2011, 10:23 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Ixcalibur.

this ghost struggles but its body does not respond. what is this? what compels this ghost to move and dance and scurry around like a mouse in play?

this ghost scans the crowd of dancing mice, all are dancing, dancing dancing silly prancing mice. they do not know this ghost is among them, so silly they do not see her. she will feast on them all. tasty tasty mice.

cannot be silly singing mice, weak and silly and singing mice. no it cannot. winter, it is beyond him. death it must be death. he controls the fire, flames from his hands, the dancing is him too.

even Death underestimates this ghost. this ghost is silence, death does not know. this ghost calls down the silence and all the mice stop. Death is confused, he's just a mouse now. this ghost will gobble him all up.

--------

With the music stopped by Naiima's sound engulfing silence there was a moment of confusion followed by a lot of soundless panicking. The police officers, even though perturbed by their song and dance routine and its abrupt ending, remained on task and attempted to arrest the Chix and Mattilus. Mattilus was unwilling to go quietly, they'd try to take his book from him, and so he used it as a club. He brutally smashed it over the head of the nearest police officer, sending him to the ground bleeding. He smiled cockily at the others as if saying 'come and have a go if you think you're hard enough'.

In the chaos Naiima had got the jump on Edward. She'd forced him to the ground under her weight and bitten into his neck, her toxin was not effective against the android, but then again she hadn't expected it to be (not against Death). He was tough (tougher than other mice) but nothing that she couldn't handle.

Mindy, already handcuffed had to be restrained as she watched the giant spider tear Edward into scrap metal. She would have screamed and sobbed except that she couldn't make a noise.

Edward did not make a noise as he was torn to shreds, he would not have done even if he could. His laser gun arm had been torn from his body; his head was only just about still connected. ‘At least I kept her safe’ Edward thought. Whether or not he was thinking about the chix he had saved, or the queen he had left behind was impossible to tell. His processor was in pieces, his memory was shot, for that one moment they might have been one and the same.

Edward's discarded visor slowly faded to black.

"No." Mindy mouthed silently. "It's not supposed to end like this. It's supposed to be a happy ending... We always have a happy ending…"

Woffles · 08-28-2011, 11:23 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Wojjan.

"Wow, perfect timing. Right on schedule, too. C'mere for a sec."

The surviving three contestants were instantly taken from the scene, once more suspended in nothingness. It was a brief stay, however - soon, they were whisked away again to somewhere else entirely. In a quaint valley, a small path led along the banks of a river. Neither the source or the mouth of the creek were in sight, and the path, at least from here, seemed to be endless. At both sides the path was overtaken by steep cliffs, upon which trees loomed over the flow. Above, foliage covered the scene from the outside world, a forest so dense and thick it couldn't but hold mysteries. The scene was gentle, but from the forest higher up no one could ignore an occasional twig breaking, or a bush shivering.

"Right, welcome to The Graben. This nice little valley may seem fine for a picnic, but just a reminder, you're all still on the job. Besides, you wouldn't want to get too close to that river. There's a lot of legends that were tied to it by the two tribes that live on either side of this valley. Some even say it springs from the ancient fountain of youth. The river's been subject of some competition on the field, each tribe claiming it belongs to their side. Yeah, can't say there's a lot of synergy between them. You might not want to get on their bad side, but you know what this job is like. You can't do right for everyone."

SpoilerShow

Ixcaliber · 08-28-2011, 04:58 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Ixcalibur.

A lot of things happened at once as the chix found themselves released from the grip of the omniscient Grandmaster. Mindy, her hands cuffed behind her back, collapsed to the muddy ground as tears rolled down her face. Debbie breathed a sigh of relief and dashed over to embrace the other chix, hesitantly stopping when she got a good look at them. Sara had her hands cuffed behind her back, while Zaffy was cuffed to a detective in a ridiculously long brown coat and matching fedora. He had a black eye and untidy stubble. Debbie recognized him as the detective who had arrested her, and cheered as Zaffy tackled him to the ground.

"You get him Zaf." she yelled happily. Zaffy and the detective wrestled across the muddy clearing, throwing up globs of mud at the watching Chix. The detective managed to get the upper hand, produced from his pocket a little key and quickly swallowed it.

"Now listen up." He said, his voice a little shaky. "You're all still under arrest." He took furtive glances at his new location. "I don't know where you all are, but you're going to find the nearest police station and turn yourselves in." The detective, Pascal DuMont, was having a hard time. The rules about multiversal battles to the death were very clear; don’t participate in them. Even so he found himself in something of a grey area where he wasn’t sure if he was participating or not.

“Or what?” Zafira demanded. “What are you going to do?”

“Zaffy he is a law enforcement officer and you should always trust the law.” Sara said earnestly. Zafira rolled her eyes and snatched up a rock.

“Listen Mister Detective.” She said threateningly. “With all due respect you can shut the fuck up, or I can beat you to death with this rock.”

“Zafira!” Sara yelled. “Would you listen to yourself.”

“I’m not going back to prison Sar…” she said. “I just can’t do it.” The chix exchanged furtive glances, except Mindy who was still weeping in the mud. “So what do you say pig?” Zaffy continued. “You going to shut up and do as we say?” Pascal regarded his options, of which he didn’t have very many. He nodded solemnly, and he and Zafira got to their feet, using their free hands to knock away some of the mud that they were now covered in.

Debbie rushed up to Sara and Zaffy and hugged them, and also Pascal as well because there was no sense in leaving him out.

“Debs are you okay?” Sara asked, her voice full of concern. “Where did you go?”

“I was only trying to help and this feehead arrested me!” Debbie said bitterly. Zaffy promptly punched Pascal in the arm.

“Stop arresting my friends!” she said.

“It was so awful.” She wept, burying her face in her hands. “There was… there was… no I don’t want to talk about it.” Sara and Zafira exchanged glances and hugged Debbie again.

“It’s over now Debs.” Sara said. “I’m sure Mister…” she glared at the detective.

“Pascal DuMont.” The detective introduced himself.

“I’m sure Pascal is very sorry.” Sara said sternly. The detective stared at her in blank incomprehension. She glared back.

“Yeah… yeah very sorry.” Pascal said. Sara frowned but didn’t press him further.

“Hey, chix…” Zafira started. “Where’s Atasha?” The chix looked around to find no trace of their colleague.

--------

Atasha had taken exactly one thing from the round introduction. That thing was the words ‘fountain of youth’. Her hands cuffed behind her back, she sped through the trees to the sound of running water. It was tough going, the branches of the trees scratching at her clothes, which come to think of it she never did get replacement clothes in that shop. Eventually she emerged on the river bank, and without a second thought practically threw herself face first into the river. She gulped down huge great mouthfuls of water.

After a while she was satisfied she sat up on her knees and wished there was a mirror around so she could see whether it had worked. It was at that point that she started to feel decidedly unwell.

GBCE · 08-29-2011, 01:04 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Protoman.

Mattilus landed in this strange land with a slight thump. He was in a grove, surrounded by trees that, though numerous, were widely spaced. For this, he was thankful. It helped to preclude the possibility of a sneak attack while still giving him plenty of vantage points from which to gaze. The mage looked down at his feet, hoping to grasp his rather large tom----

"Oh shit."

-----

Far, far away, a tribal warrior was looking at a strange object. It had a hard surface, but the center was formed of many floppy, easily torn and crumpled sheets. Images were written on these sheets, almost seeming like the letters his tribe used to carve out messages, but the glyphs it contained were incredibly alien to him.

Just as he was prepared to throw the book into the river and try to regroup with his troop, he heard a rustle in the bush behind him, followed by a loud roar.

No time to think. No time to hesitate. The tribesman spun around with the book, a sharp pain piercing his shoulder, the pain of a spear, a pain he had felt before. The spear pushed on and on, piercing the flesh, approaching bone. He would've cried out had it not been for the loud crack that stopped the pain where it stood. Looking up, he saw the book had smashed into a rival tribesman's skull. His opponent slumped, fell, bleeding from his head. The warrior looked down at the heavy object. It had saved him. He tucked the strange object under his arm. If nothing else, he could present it to the elders. Perhaps they would even declare it a gift of the gods. He wandered off, heading towards the faint echo of his tribe's war song.

-----

"Oh god this isn't good."

Mattilus was panicking. It had been many years since he was without any access to magic in such a dangerous situation. Soon enough, the chix would be breathing down his neck, and he questioned whether or not Naiima's loyalty would stay with him if he lost his mastery of winter. He might be able to handle the girls, despite being outnumbered, but the spider was a different story. The way it had just torn the head off that android was... astonishing, to say the least. A worthy ally and a formidable opponent.

He smiled to himself slightly at the thought of the android's death. He was lucky for that. One more opponent down, one less threat to face. One step closer to freedom, one step farther from doom.

The spellweaver climbed into a tree and started thinking back. Where had he lost the book? As he started racking his memory for an answer, the tree he was in shook slightly, a certain chik running past it and jumping into the river the fighters had been explicitly told not to enter.

The mage sighed and adjusted his glasses. It was going to be a long battle.

Ixcaliber · 09-01-2011, 02:14 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Ixcalibur.

Mattilus watched Atasha from his vantage in the treetops. Despite being without his book he felt he could handle a solitary chik, especially one whose hands had been conveniently bound behind her back. He climbed down from his perch and across the muddy riverside. The chik had managed to get to her feet and was looking decidedly worse for wear. She looked more pale than usual and was heavily sweating, her eyes barely remained open. She groaned in pain and was mumbling to herself, as soon as he was close enough to make out what she might have been saying she stopped. Atasha looked up at him with bloodshot eyes and silently mouthed the words 'help me', before collapsing to the muddy ground.

...

"The woman said not to drink the water." Mattilus said, kicking Atasha's body onto her back. He crouched down next to her, careful not to get as covered in mud as she was. Though he had a good medical knowledge it was not necessary, even before he placed his fingers to her neck to check her pulse he knew the chik was dead. If anything this development worried him. It demonstrated a fundamental lack of self-preservation skills among the chix. They might have survived okay in the previous round because they had the android to protect them, but no longer. Add to that that this round had the potential to be much more dangerous than the preceding round, and he was forced to conclude that they were not going to last long. This wouldn't have been a problem but for the fact that he was without his book, and if they moved to a new round before he found it then it would be lost forever. He had to act, and quickly.

Mattilus straightened up and returned to the tree he had been atop when he had been interrupted by Atasha's presence. He glanced out over the thick canopy, hoping to see some clue as to where his book was. With his back to the river, something drew his eye; smoke rising from a clearing in the forest. Of course, the tribe that the voice had mentioned. If he went up against them as he was-

Mattilus' thoughts were interrupted as he became aware of a wordless song twisting through the trees. He spun around, as best as is possible when precariously balanced atop a tree, to see that Atasha's body was missing. In it's place there was a pile of her clothes and a scrap of metal, her handcuffs, twisted almost beyond recognition. His attention was not drawn to this however, but to Atasha herself, bathing in the river. She was singing to herself. It was not a cheesy pop number like Mattilus had been forced to endure at the end of the previous round, but rather a melodious tune. It was pure, it was innocent, it was beautiful.

Before he knew it he had climbed down the tree and was standing on the riverbank, staring at Atasha's naked form. She was beautiful. Her skin was perfectly smooth, without a single blemish upon it. Her long brown hair practically shone in the crystal clear waters of the river. Her eyes were a dazzling blue that Mattilus didn't know how he had not noticed before.

Mattilus became aware that he had been staring at the chik, but she didn't seem to mind, never having stopped singing for a moment. She cupped her hands together gathering a mouthful of river water, and walked out of the river and up to Mattilus. For a moment she just stood there, her azure eyes fixed onto his. Then she raised the water to him, momentarily pausing her beautiful song to instruct him to

"Drink."

GBCE · 09-01-2011, 08:43 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Protoman.

Mattilus looked to the water, brought his lips to it, almost, till the last untouched part of his mind cried out loud enough, screaming to him "wake up."

He looked up. Atasha was still there. Still singing. But she wasn't some glorious goddess of beauty- no, she was just the same girl, except considerably more naked and wet. Mattilus dashed back, tripping and falling backwards. He looked once more at the girl's eyes. They were blue still, yes, but their pupils seemed frozen over.

Mattilus began speaking, at first to Atascha, then to nobody, as he fell into his habit of verbal note-taking. "A siren. Or some equivalent. I read enough mythology to know of your kind. Blind your victims, make them come with you, pull them in, pull them under. I don't know what's in that water, but I'm certainly not drinking it. You've also likely gained incredible strength, considering those handc----"

Immediately the chik was upon him, having switched almost instantaneously from a glorious siren to a feral harpy. Mattilus could barely roll to the side as she dived, her fist landing where his head had been. The mage struggled to get up, the muddy banks of the river providing little leverage. He slipped once more, falling deeper into the mud, the beast-chik grabbing at his ankle. Immediately he grasped at the ground beneath him, found some of the mud, threw it in her face, causing her to let out a monstrous roar. It was just enough to buy him some time to get up and run off into the woods.

--------

Far far away, the tribesman was killed in battle, his blood staining the sheets within the strange object he found. It was an ambush, and though the book had protected him from a single spear, it would not protect him from five.

The members of the tribe stole the strange object and brought it to their elder immediately, just as the man had planned to do.

"Great Old One," they say, "What does this mean?"

The elder's brow furrows. He is uncertain. "I have yet to consult the gods on this matter, my sons. Wait and the answer may be given to us yet."

"Great Old One, what if the blood spilled upon the object lays a curse upon our village? What if from just bringing this book to you, we have doomed all our people?"

"I believe the gods are with us, my sons. We shall see in due time. Now go back to your troops; This war is long, and we may only hope things soon change in our favor."

As the young warriors departed, the elder stroked his beard. Perhaps this was the answer to their prayers. Perhaps the gods had sent this alien object to end the war.

He went back into his chamber to meditate upon these thoughts, hoping only for answers.

-----

The Mage is more frightened than he's been in quite some time. No book, no protection, and a harpy-siren-she-devil on his tail.

Mattilus was used to controlling the tides of battle. He had acted not only as a valuable soldier, but as a general, leading his troops to victory. This situation had left him helpless, not only in strength but in wits. He had no clue what kind of creature Atascha had turned into, had no clue where anyone was, had no clue about how to go about saving himself.

"Should've finished her when I had the chance. Should've broken her skull in with that book."

He huddled in the cave he'd taken refuge in, listening to the echoes of the nearby river's trickling. He sighed at how low he had fallen: the great Brenite mage turned into little more than a helpless, lost, frightened soul.

GBCE · 09-03-2011, 03:58 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by XX.

ghosts don’t laugh

but this one does.

she is the ghost in winter, Winter’s ghost, she is stronger and faster than all of them and she spears the mice on her long long fangs, yesssss, and she flies when she hunts and no one escapes her now. she is swift and silent and Silent and no one will flee from her now, no, there is no use running from her, not now, not ever, she’ll find you and she’ll tear you to little bits for trying. he tried, the dead mouse, he squeaked and squeaked. squeak all you want, little mouse

I am the ghost that killed Death.

this ghost is in the trees, thick and green, they are not her trees. her trees are white and whiter still with the Silent webs and the spiders with their watching-eyes and their hunting-dance. tarantella! dance dance dance, spiders and mice! the mice could not make her dance. ghosts don’t dance and ghosts don’t laugh but she is no mere ghost, now, she is Death’s death, she is a white ghost death on white ghost wings

she hunts in the green forest.

death is a white ghost, laughing

death is the tarantella
______________

The High Chieftain of the Tribe of the Red Spider watched Naiima pass with a grin on his scarred face.

He was hidden high up in the branches of the largest tree on this side of the forest, clay-and-reed huts clinging to its ancient trunk like fat caterpillars. His own nut-brown skin was almost indistinguishable from the bark he rested his back against; if he stayed perfectly still, he could have blended in and become one with the forest as the Great Spider had decreed when he first formed Man from the fibers of his web. The crown of the Chieftain’s headdress was adorned with such webs, along with a number of their living inhabitants. It was the worst kind of sacrilege to displace one of the Spider’s children. No one in his tribe would even dare to think of such a thing. Even laying eyes on an arachnid was a lucky thing; harming one was a fast route to the eternal wrath of a vengeful god.

What was he to make, then, of a giant arachnid appearing in the forest just as his tribe’s war with their heathen neighbors was reaching its peak?

The Chieftain’s smile grew wider as he swung down from his perch with the nimbleness of a jungle cat and landed firmly in the spider’s path. The Great Spider was a kind god indeed, he thought, and swept a bow before the best of all omens.
___________

!!mouse

this ghost was careless, yes, she was laughing and the mouse surprised her. skinny mouse, quick mouse, more like a cat than the child of mice, yes. little cat. little cat-mouse with a hat full of webs. lazy cat, she thinks, to let a web catch on his head. perhaps not a threat for the death-of-Death but she rears up all the same to show her mouse-killer fangs

and the cat bows.

the ghost will speak with this cat, then.

a cat is no threat to a ghost, there are cats in her forest but they are skinny and big and have red spots on their heads. the Silent have no quarrel with cats and so she has none with this one, though it says strange things. a spider, a Spider, a sign. what use have ghosts for signs? but the cat is convinced. the cat purrs, sleek cat, sure cat, she had forgotten that cats always know when they win. the cats lifts a paw to its den in the trees (bad ghost, lazy ghost, should have seen, should have noticed) and there are more cats there, and kittens. the ghost is good, he says. the cats will conquer.

the ghost is quiet until now and the cat’s face is bright with surprise. he did not know this ghost could speak, he did not expect this ghost to laugh. good spider, good Spider, good signs. all good. he asks the ghost what she says, what she has been told from her web

the ghost remembers. squeaking mice, remember Winter? poor winter, poor Winter.

poor Death.

find the mice, she tells that cat. kill the mice that sing. you are good at this

and the cat is very happy to agree.

SpoilerShow

Ixcaliber · 09-03-2011, 06:12 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Ixcalibur.

The Elder Ransajan's mindscape normally resembled a peaceful day alongside the river. Today his meditations were different, he had allowed the book in and it had twisted and tore his mindscape to ribbons. Around him bloodthirsty Brenites clashed with one another, fighting for their country but mainly fighting for fun. Some rode atop fearsome beasts. The air stunk of death and the river ran red with blood. At the very back of his mind a bespectacled man strode across the battlefield, with the book. He would point and read and burning death would emerge from his fingertips. Ransajan did not need to continue this meditation for very long to know that this book was the blackest of omens and should be cast from their village immediately.

He emerged from his meditations and holding the heavy book away from him he emerged from his hut. Even though his attention was fixed upon the grim tome, it did not take him long to realize something was wrong. The village was all but empty, the only noise a beautiful melody. In the middle of the village there stood a naked woman. There was something bewilderingly familiar about this strange woman, and the song that washed over him. Gripping the tome closer to him he found himself walking towards the dark-skinned stranger. He came to a stop before her and looked into her crystal blue eyes. In her eyes he saw not the woman that stood before him, but the river itself. He saw the tempestuous and impulsive spirit who often crept into his meditations.

"Ransajan." she said. "Be honoured that I chose you."

The Elder, stronger willed than most, snapped out of it and stepped back, he made to turn, to flee but hands grasped him and pulled him to the floor. He glanced around; three of his own tribesmen were holding him down, with more force than they ought have been able to. Their eyes were glazed over, their expressions blank, their clothing discarded. The book had landed open on the dirt. The breeze rifled through its pages. Suddenly the village was filling with his tribesmen, all bearing the same blank expression. Some carried the spears they had used in life; those that didn't didn't look any less threatening. A young girl, Ransajan’s niece, carried a crude wooden bowl towards the river spirit.

“Let them go!” Ransajan demanded, struggling ineffectually against the grasp of his kin.

“They’re at peace with me.” The River, Ataya, said. “You will be too.” The river spirit straddled the elder, as one of her thralls placed the bowl in her stolen hands. A little river water splashed onto the elder’s robes. “Just drink…” He glanced to the side, his eyes desperately alighting on the open pages of the book. One of his tribe jerked his head upright and held his nose, as Ataya lowered the bowl of river water to his mouth. Ransajan desperately mumbled the only words he could remember. Beneath them the earth shook and rumbled. Ataya’s thralls stumbled just long enough for Ransajan to knock the bowl from her hands, spilling the water onto the dirt floor. In the momentary confusion he got free and grabbed the accursed book. Ataya screamed at her servants to be after him, her beauty now faded to monstrousness.

Elder Ransajan fled into the jungle, dodging spears and stepping over the rapidly forming cracks in the ground, the book clutched to his chest.

--------

Elsewhere the other chix trekked through the jungle. They’d noticed what sounded alarmingly like Ataya singing. They had unanimously opted to pretend it wasn’t happening; only becoming aware that there was something wrong with the song when Pascal started dragging Zaffy towards the source of the song, seemingly deaf to her protests otherwise. Mindy still wept for Edward. The others largely ignored her.

SpoilerShow

GBCE · 09-06-2011, 07:00 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by XX.

this is the day that a ghost became queen.

she does not mind the cats that come to see her or the kittens that sit on her back. she does not mind that her legs are draped in beads and her head is dressed in paint, black white blue but mostly red, red red red all over the white ghost. the den of cats in the green trees is quiet as a ghost, the cats wear red as well little cats, quiet cats on quiet paws. silent cats Silent cats these cats are hers, these cats belong to a ghost.

their kittens cry that she is a sign, good sign good spider very good spider Spider sends them good things in their forest of green and brown and not-white. but her forests are white, she tells the cats, and they all laugh. the queen of ghosts is puzzled but they tell her not to worry, she is safe so safe in their nests in their forests in their trees. they will kill all her enemies and tear them apart and the Spider will lead them to victory. the ghost does not need fear doesn’t fear at all she tells them. there is no fear in silence and the cats just laugh

she is not a Spider, this ghost, but silence is all she knows, all she knows, all she’ll ever know
_________

Morokh of the Tribe of the Red Spider held his spear lightly in his hand as he stalked the undergrowth, keeping his ears trained for any sound of singing. The White Spider had told them that the singers weren’t dangerous, even going so far as to call them mice, but he preferred to be cautious. The sharp chunk of obsidian bound to his spear had ended the lives of seasoned warriors; surely it would be enough for the feeble creatures the Spider spoke of.

The sound of the river grew in strength as he approached it, a dull roaring that drowned out the birdcalls and rustling of the forest. He’d lived with it all his life and knew better than to stop and listen, yet somehow he heard it calling out to him through the tangled foliage. As always, it seemed to almost form a voice that whispered to him of unlimited potential, unending youth, an eternity of glory and… a book?

Morokh frowned. That couldn’t be right. Slowly he crept forward, obsidian spearhead parting the leaves with quick jabs. The jungle was full of illusions, but this particular one seemed out of place. The river’s roar filled his ears as he slunk through the undergrowth, careful not to create any more sound than was necessary as he crept past the riverbank. The strange voice grew louder and louder as he went until he was able to tell it apart from the rushing water. It was masculine, of indeterminate age, and it sounded rather upset.

“…All of them. I suppose it’s only a matter of time until one of them comes back and does me in…”

The warrior froze. The speaker’s accent was strange, and not of his village or the heathens that lived across the river. Outsiders in the jungle were rarely a good thing; granted, the last stranger that had come into the forest had been a manifestation of his god, but that didn’t mean that they were all so fortuitous. This man could very well be an ally of his enemies or any of a hundred other dangers.

Erring on the side of caution, Morokh sprang through the undergrowth with spear ready for casting, landing gracefully at the mouth of a muddy-looking cave. A pair of startled eyes stared back at him, hidden behind queer transparent things that wrapped around a mussed head of pale hair. Their owner was dressed in strange clothing that seemed completely impractical for traveling through the jungle. He blinked at the obsidian blade leveled squarely at his face.

“Stranger,” Morokh said, “Are you a friend of the Spider?”

Ixcaliber · 09-07-2011, 04:17 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Ixcalibur.

The chix, led by the bewitched and highly enthusiastic detective emerged into a primitive village. The dirt floor was cracked and some of the wooden houses had collapsed. There were a group of people all gathered in the centre of the village. As soon as Debbie spotted them she said "oh gosh" and averted her eyes. As the crowd of naked villagers turned to them the chix suddenly felt very overdressed. Worse even than the time that they had turned up for that street party dressed in formal ballgowns. The crowd parted revealing the glistening form of Atasha. Her hair clung to her naked body, her eyes were locked in a death stare, cold and so very distant. Collectively the group gasped in shock at seeing their colleague in such a situation, and also at seeing so much of their colleague. Debbie stared back at the jungle that she had come from, humming to herself as though doing so would make this not be happening. Zaffy dug her heels in the dirt holding back the detective from his incontrollable desire to become one of Ataya's thralls.

"Atasha!" Sara started. "What happened to you?"

"Something... wonderful." The river spirit replied. "I am reborn. Stronger, faster, better." The spirit strode confidently towards the gathered chix, coming to a stop in front of the handcuffed detective. She idly pulled off his fedora and tossed it away. The chix were at a loss for words, and for the moment did little more than watch, or not watch as it were, as Ataya playfully ran her fingers through the detectives hair. Momentarily she strode past the detective and continued: "Join me." She said as her fingers danced along Zafira's arm.

"You're not Atasha..." Sara said uncertainly. The river spirit chuckled to herself.

"No." she said. "I am so much more than I was." Ataya hovered uncomfortably close to the punk-chik. Their lips only centimetres apart, their eyes locked upon one another. Zafira looked away, prompting Ataya to grab her head and turn it back. "I thought this is what you liked, Zaffy?"

"You aren't her at all." Zafira mumbled. Ataya laughed, and pushed Zaffy to one side, continuing her way along the group.

"Is that a bad thing?" Ataya asked. "Atasha was... well she was Atasha. I am so much better." She grinned as she approached Sara. She took advantage of the fact that her hands were cuffed behind her back to cop a feel of the chik's bountiful breasts.

"No." Mindy muttered between sobs. "Leave us alone." Ataya promptly abandoned Sara and strode towards the weeping chik.

"Now now Mindy." she said, wiping away her tears. "Don't cry. There's no more sadness once you drink..."

"Stop it!" Debbie cried, charging towards Ataya and shoving her away. "Just... stop it!" Ataya held up her hands as if protesting her innocence.

"I just want to help." she said, her wicked grin not leaving her face. "You are in a battle to the death against a magician and a killer spider. You stand no chance." she paused. "Not unless you do something about it." she lowered her hands and strode up to Debbie. "So how about it Debs? I'll even let you keep your free will..."

GBCE · 09-07-2011, 10:43 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Protoman.

The mage blinked once or twice, trying to grasp what exactly had just happened. Once he felt he had a nice hold on the situation, he looked up at his attacker and gave a smug smirk.

"A spear? How quaint. If your cries and sudden harsh demands were meant as an intimidation ploy, I'll give you credit, you almost had me going there. But not quite."

The spearman narrowed his eyes and glared at his hostage. Mattilus decided it was not the time to be a sarcastic, condescending douche.

"N-Now then, would you mind elaborating on what you mean by 'the spi---' oh my, it's Naiima, isn't it?"

"Insolent wretch! You speak the name of the goddess with such audacity?!"

The young warrior tensed up, prepared to kill the heathen, should his blasphemous tongue offend him any more.

"Goddess? Oh my. She got you to believe she's a--- I mean, yes, the goddess, I apologize for being so... rude. Now then, to answer, yes, I am a friend of your spider's. Now then, would you mind telling me where she is? I have a horde of tribal zombies combing the jungle for me, all of them under the control of some crazy river spirit zombie chik, and I'd like to meet with your queen spider before i get skewered on a sta----"

"You speak too much, wretch! I know not where you're from, nor what your purpose here is, but today, you diaugh"

the man collapsed, a much older man in green robes having hit him from behind with a book.

"You. You spoke of a river spirit, of her mindless servants in the forest?"

Mattilus loosened up and sat up straight once more. "Why yes, yes I did. Have you run into the same problem?"

The mage's gaze strayed from the old one's incredibly manly beard to the book he had clutched.

"There is no need to gaze at this so covetously. I know you are it's owner, and a wicked and powerful one you are. I have seen it in my dreams. I know what destruction you have wrought with this book. But I am an old man, not a thief, and what's yours is yours. And though i fear it, it may be the only salvation we have from this succubus."

Mattilus took hold of the book as the man handed it to him. He skimmed through the pages. Several were covered with blood, others with mud, leaving them illegible. It seemed spells involving portals, as well as any healing spells were out.

"State your name, purpose, and how this book came into your possession."

Ransajan sighed and shook his head. Such a disrespectful tongue in the mouth of one so young was unheard of amongst his tribe. But as undesirable as this alliance was, it was necessary.

"Ransajan the Eldest, of the Tribe of the Green Leaf. My entire tribe has been made into slaves of the River Spirit. My tribe found the book in the hands of a man from the tribe of the Red Spider."

"Very well. Now, then, Ransajan, what would you propose we do to stop this demonic sparkklechik?"

"I know not what a sparkklechik is, friend, though it sounds very silly, and I'd prefer to be serious in these dire circumstances. As for the River Spirit, I feel the only thing we can do is enlist the Red Spiders. It's a risky move, and I may be killed on sight, but I fear there are no other options. This man is of their tribe as well. Once he awakens, he may be able to lead us there."

The mage sighed, removed his glasses and rubbed at his eyes.

"Can't imagine him being incredibly eager to do that. But I doubt he can do much to me, now that I have this book."

"...If we should work together, friend, I would like to ask some questions. The book had memories attached to it. Bad ones."

"Like what?"

The old man sighed a sigh of ages, stroking his beard and gazing into the moonlight. It was the only light that shone for the cave, as a fire might attract the hordes.

"Well..."

And so the mage and the elder sat and spoke through the cold dark night, awaiting the revival of the young tribesman.

Ixcaliber · 09-08-2011, 04:56 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Ixcalibur.

“Okay, fine.” Debbie said. “I’ll do it.” Without giving Ataya a moment to respond she grabbed the river spirit and pulled her close, locking her lips around the Ataya’s cold dead flesh. For a moment the river spirit was clearly taken by surprise, but it did not take her long to get into it, her hand snaking down Debbie’s back. Ataya squeezing Debbie’s ass seemed to finally prompt her to push her away.

“That was fun.” Ataya said with a grin. “But that’s not how we do it.”

“Oh.” Debbie replied, starting to blush. She pushed past it, and followed up: “What do I do then?”

Ataya grinned and leaned in close to Debbie. “You must drink from my river.” She whispered into the chik’s ear. There was an awkward pause as Debbie began to blush deeper.

“You mean…?” Debbie asked, her eyes finishing the question her mouth was unable to.

Ataya laughed. “No, no, nothing like that Debs. Though, if you wanted to…” Debbie blushed even harder, if that were possible, and turned away from the river spirit. “I meant to drink the water from the literal river.”

“Then let’s go.” Debbie said decisively. Ataya took a step back and turned to face the group of villagers that had been staring blankly into space during the exchange. At her gaze they started to move towards the group.

“An honour guard of sorts.” Ataya explained. “The jungle can be a dangerous place, you know?” The group of the river spirit’s thralls formed up around them, Debbie didn’t know where to look, and started towards the river.

“Debbie, what are you doing?” Sara asked, moving with the group not because she approved but because she didn’t want to leave her friend. Zaffy was being pulled along by Pascal, who already seemed to be following Ataya like a mindless drone.

“I’m doing what is necessary.” Debbie replied quickly, she had already gone over this in her head. “You don’t seem to get that we are in a battle to the death, when I brought it up last round you opted to go giggling into the forest with Zaffy instead of actually doing anything about it.”

“That isn’t Atasha.” Sara snapped.

“I know.” Debbie rolled her eyes, “I’m not stupid Sara. This is just the best thing I can do for you guys.”

“What if she is lying?” Zaffy asked. “You want to end up like one of the Nudist Brigade here?” Debbie paused momentarily, looking at the villager walking alongside her, the distant look in his eyes…

“What other options do we have?” Debbie asked. The three were silent, though they hadn’t been taking things too seriously till now they knew that Debbie had a point.

“I’ll do it.” Mindy said, finally having choked back the tears. “I will do whatever it takes to kill that spider, and avenge my poor beloved Edward.”

GBCE · 09-09-2011, 10:03 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by XX.

Morokh woke to the uncomfortable feeling that his head had been bashed in by a supernaturally dense book.

Odd, fuzzy shapes writhed in front of him as he gradually regained his consciousness. Quietly at first, then louder and louder, he began to hear a mumbled string of sounds that it took him a few seconds to realize were words.

“Ah, here he is. Welcome back.”

The spearman sat up, touching a hand gingerly to his head and wincing when it came away covered in half-congealed blood. “Y-you…”

“I did what I had to do, boy. You will live.”

Even through the fog that wouldn’t quite seem to leave his vision, Morokh recognized the face before him. Morokh drew his legs up suddenly and yelped as the motion sent a burning dagger of pain through his skull. “You! I- I-” He fumbled desperately for his spear but felt only damp rocks under his hand. He had to find it before-

“As entertaining as I find your inability to say anything other than pronouns,” came another voice, this one cold and clipped, “I’m afraid I must interrupt your little speech. We need you to take us back to your village, and we need you to do it quickly.”

The speaker’s voice brought back a flash of memory: an odd sound, a stranger in a cave, a blow to the back of Morokh’s head… he glared at the man, belatedly realizing that nestled in the stranger’s arms was a massive rectangular object on which a pale finger trailed ominously. The man chuckled, gesturing to the open page. “I suggest you do as I say, unless you’d like to find out what it feels like to have your blood boiled inside your skin. Though that won’t happen unless it has to. I am a friend of the Spider, as you so eloquently put it.”

Morokh was not particularly in the mood for this shit, especially not when the leader of his most hated enemies was sitting directly across from him, clearly in league with the stranger. With a wounded sort of dignity the warrior got to his feet. “I will take you to the Goddess,” he said slowly, still tasting blood in his mouth, “but may the Spider help your miserable soul if you wish her harm.”

The strange man just smirked. “Why, who could ever want that?”
____________

A band of Red Spider warriors flowed through the jungle on silent feet.

The Ghost Spider had told them what their quarry looked like, in her own way; women, paler skinned than the tribe except for one, prone to loud and irritating chatter. That was all the hunters needed. They had stalked animals that could blend into the shadows at a moment’s notice all their lives. Five clumsy strangers could not be that difficult to locate.

Their leader hissed between her filed teeth as the group approached the lines of stumpy trees that marked the edges of the Green Leaf’s territory. Dark eyes flickered nervously, ever alert for scouts, but none were apparent. The leader frowned. It was not like Green Leaf to be so negligent. Were its members elsewhere? Were they gathering for an attack?

With a hand motion she signaled the band forward and they darted between the branches, quick as striking snakes. They wound their way ever closer to the enemy village, painfully aware that triggering an alert would spell a quick and painful death for them all. But no Green Leaves were apparent, even as they grew close enough to see the smoke trail from the village’s cookfire; the forest was deathly still. Only the sound of the river was audible, a dull rushing of water that resonated through the trees-

The leader’s hand flew up. The hunters froze obediently as she lowered it slowly, pointing between two trunks. A group of young women was walking behind a dark-skinned girl wearing nothing but the hair on her head. As they watched, frozen, a high-pitched whining winged its way to them over the sound of the river.

“So you guys are like, a thing now, right? I mean, you kissed her. That totally makes you two a thing.”

The leader’s hand clenched into a fist, and as one the hunters sprang towards their quarry. Ataya turned at the sound just in time to catch a glimpse of a spear hurdling through the air, on a collision path for a spot directly between her eyes.

Ixcaliber · 09-11-2011, 11:52 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Ixcalibur.

Ataya had quick reactions, her hands reached out to grab the spear before she was really able to process what was going on. Alas she was not fast enough, Mindy screamed as the tip of the spear penetrated Ataya’s forehead. All of the chix, barring Ataya herself of course, screamed as the river spirit pulled it out as though it was not an issue, tossing it to the ground. Clearly unperturbed by her stylish new head wound Ataya began to sing. It was the same siren song that had lured an entire village to willingly give themselves to her; the same song from which Mattilus had broken free just in time to save himself.

“Man this song is lame.” Zaffy sneered. “It doesn’t even have any words…” she paused, “I hope she doesn’t expect us to join in?” Sara shrugged, and Mindy made an attempt to join in, though her version seemed to lack something she couldn’t put her finger on. After a moment a small group of natives emerged from within the trees. They were wearing primitive clothing dyed red; though in truth their clothing covered less of their body than Debbie would probably have preferred. Their bare chests were marked with dark red paint and their hair plaited with red beads. They stared in wonder at Ataya, seemingly oblivious to her cold dead eyes and the blood running down her face.

The Red Spider hunters timidly approached Ataya, stopping a couple of paces away from her out of some semi-formed notion of respect. Ataya’s song twisted through their heads stopping them from seeing her how she truly was, preventing them from realizing what was going on. Ataya strode forwards; to them she was all but shining, she gleamed and glistened with water dripping down her flawless skin. She smiled as she reached out and placed her hands on either side of one of the hunters’ face. Without missing a note she unceremoniously snapped the man’s neck and watched as he collapsed to the floor.

There was a horrified gasp from the chix, though the other hunters didn’t as much as flinch, their minds clouded by Ataya’s siren song. “Atasha!” Sara admonished. “Stop that right this minute!” The river spirit did no such thing, stepping over the body of the fallen hunter only to do the same to the next hunter. She fell to the floor, her neck broken, dead on impact.

“Atasha stop it!” Sara darted to the side of the river spirit, but was easily shoved aside as Ataya moved to kill the next hunter. “Please stop Atasha!” Atasha grabbed the last remaining hunter by the shoulder and turned to Sara, her face cold and angry.

“My name is not Atasha.” Ataya said sternly. “And I do not answer to you.” She turned to the last hunter; a woman with hazel eyes, short black hair and tan skin. Her name was Xuitila, which in the tongue of the Red Spider meant fang of the spider. She appeared to be recovering from her musically induced daze, glancing around herself in confusion.

“Let me go!” Xuitila demanded as she attempted to extricate herself from Ataya’s vice like grip. Ataya just gripped her tighter, grabbing hold of the huntress’s arm with her other hand.

“Who sent you?” Ataya asked. “Answer me and I’ll spare you the fate of your friends.” In the distance Xuitila could see the crowd of blank faced villagers gathered around the chix, she struggled even harder.

“No. I’d rather die than become your slave.” She retorted.

“Then do so and I will grant you your death.” Ataya replied. “The spider or the man with the book?”

“You know the spider goddess is here?” Xuitila asked, a smile forming on her lips. “Then you know you are doomed.”

“You have been very helpful.” Ataya said, “You will get the death you deserve, though the rest of your village will be spared.”

“Atasha!” Sara yelled, advancing on the river spirit again. “Don’t do this. It isn’t right!” Ataya turned and shoved the chik to the ground.

“My name is not Atasha!” She yelled, while Xuitila took advantage of this opportunity to flee back to her camp. The goddess would need to be warned.

GBCE · 09-14-2011, 03:38 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Protoman.

Wystus and Ransajan came upon a hill overlooking the great village of the Red Spider with their young guide. It was barely a village, more of a great city, complete with stone buildings and a great canopy of gardens. Rasajan's eyes widened a bit.

"My my, what a beautiful city. I never knew ones so violent as the Red Spiders could create such wonders."

The young man grimaced, but bit his tongue. It was not wise to trifle with these two, or at the very least, with one such as the stranger. He would leave their punishment to the Great Spider.

-------

Xuitila had learned the pattern. Dodge, run, grab, throw, dodge. It pained her to see the occasional spear pierce the breast of an old friend, but there was no help for those who had become possessed. She approached the river, the dividing line between the forest of the Green Leaf and the jungle of the Red Spider. One chance, one jump. She breathed, braced herself, and let fly.

-------

The three travelers entered the chamber, a dark room whose walls dimly reflected gold and silver.

"mice or cats mice or cats who comes for the silence?"

Wystus breathed a sigh of relief at the odd speech pattern, glad to finally glad to have an ally.

"A mouse, a wintermouse, old girl. They've made you a goddess, I've heard. A good thing, if we're to fight the foe that stands before us."

The spiderqueen scuttled forward, examining the group with her multiple eyes.

"winter is good are these friends of winter? what news does winter bring?"

The young tribesman bowed to the great Spider Queen in worship almost instinctively . The old man staggered back in fear.

"The sparkklechix. Have you seen them recently?"

"cats are running for them hunting for mice little mice."

The old man sighed. Another army against them, if the witch kept them alive. "Damn! We're too late." Though his allies were extraordinary, he had to wonder if this spider queen and the man with the spectacles would truly be able to stand against hundreds alone.

"No issue. Just a higher body count."

Ransajan opened his mouth in protest, but Morokh beat him to it, barely restraining himself from wringing the strange man's neck.

"Y-you! You would have us slaughter those without their own will?! Women and children who aren't even warriors, just mindless zombies controlled by a she-devil!? That isn't honorable, it isn't dignified, it isn-----"

"Hah. Child. War is not honorable, nor is it something of dignity. Glory has no place on the battlefield. Virtue does not strengthen the steel of a sword, or hasten the arrow. No. War is the art of figuring out how to most efficiently slaughter your enemy by any means necessary. And if you disagree, you'd best step out. Your spear would be only a liability."

The young man opened his mouth but found no words. Losing himself, he threw his spear to the ground and stomped out of the temple.

Ransajan gave a glance at Mattilus, a glance expressing something between fear, worry, and disgust. There was a second of silenced, followed by the elder of the green leaf announcing, "I will comfort him." As he walked out, contemplating the situation, Mattilus turned back to the spider.

"Now then, to update you, the annoying woman we were traveling with has amassed both the powers of some river spirit and an army of mindless tribal soldiers who will die at her whim. How do you suggest we approach this issue?"

--------

Xuitila rushed. Had to hurry. Had to run. Her ankle was hurt by a fall into the river, her jump not being quite far enough, but there was no time. One more hill, then into the city.

As she approached the top of the hill, she saw a familiar face. One familiar enough to make her slide to a halt.

"Morokh, my comrade, what are you doing outside the walls of the city? An army approaches! We must hurry back, we must warn the goddess!"

Morokh stood in silence, his face hardened. He had been sharpening his spear, beginning to examine its new point. From behind a tree, another familiar face came out, a hated face, the face of an enemy.

"We know. And we plan on fighting it. Are you with us?"

GBCE · 09-16-2011, 08:03 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by XX.

this is the day that a queen became god

she touches the spear that the brave cat left (good cat, good cat, you brought me winter and winter is mine) the cats all have these spears. the cats and the mice. there are no blades for a ghost though they bring them to her, to touch and bless with her teeth and her tongue. no blades for a ghost, no ghost for blades, she has no need. fangs and fear and silence are all the Silent know. she shows the spear to Winter

“These are the teeth of mice.”

she brings her leg down and breaks it like a branch

“These are the hands of a ghost. I fear no mice, no fear no fear. I am the ghost that killed Death.”

Winter sighs. she knows the faces of winter, now, she is better and this ghost is queen. “Yes, but there will not be just one… tooth. There will be hundreds. Thousands, perhaps. This entire village could be exterminated, including you and quite possibly even myself.” Winter takes the head of the spear and brings it across his thumb. red line, red line, all the blood in winter can’t block out the ice. “Even mice can be dangerous in numbers.”

the ghost is quiet, though she moves from the cave of gold and silver into the light. winter follows, winter follows. she thinks of the nest she was born in and the siblings she ate. a swarm a swarm a silent Silent swarm she might have died but she didn’t. no swarm can kill a ghost. nothing can kill a ghost.

this is a ghost who became a god

“There is a chance, however,” Winter says in his voice of snow and ice, he does not know that he speaks to the Spider Who Is God, “that if we kill the river spirit, her hold over the army will dissolve and they will return to their senses. Naturally this will leave the other chix defenseless and we can pick them off from there.”

“The river is a mouse?”

“Er, in a manner of speaking. I believe she’s still mortal.”

the ghost is silent, the ghost is still. she has hunted in forests of white and green and grey and no prey has ever escaped her that she did not release. “We hunt this mouse.”

“Yes, well, that’s where the army part comes in-”

the ghost turns to Winter and he sees she knows he sees her chains and gold and paint, the gifts of cats but the face of a goddess. slowly slowly she places her fangs on his neck, no fear no fear but this is the way a spider hunts.

“This mouse is only one, Winter. We hunt this mouse and when we do, we kill.”
___________

Xuitila approached the Spider’s temple with the urgency of fleeing prey.

Morokh and Ransajan hurried behind her, the former calling out to the rapidly gathering crowd and the latter striding stiffly along, ignoring the hisses and jeers. She saw friends and family waving to her, confused and frightened, but she had no time to stop. The entire city might fall by the next dawn; she did have the luxury of consoling those who needed it.

As the steps of the temple grew near, however, the three began to grow worried. The high walls rose tall and still, the chanting of the priests within a deafening wail that echoed thunderously in the empty stone. The fires at its tip had gone out and were sending soft columns of smoke like dark fingers against the sky.

She knew what had happened even before the High Chieftain came to her, his mouth a grim slash. “The Spider has left us.”

Morokh growled and Ransajan’s face twitched with something that might have been pain. “She… is gone?”

The Chieftain gave his rival a long, cold look that spoke nothing of forgiveness between them, but eventually nodded. “She and the man that traveled with you.”

Morokh paled. “What did he say? What did he tell her?”

“I do not know, child,” the Chieftain said gently, “but we know what we must do. We will defend against the river’s tide as best as we can and destroy as many of its slaves as we are able. This is our only hope.”

“But what of your Spider?” Ransajan asked.

The Chieftain’s face betrayed nothing. “The goddess has gone to repair what your people brought upon us. She has gone to kill the river.”

Ixcaliber · 09-17-2011, 05:54 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by Ixcalibur.

The chix stood on the river Ataya looking down into the whispering crystal waters. Things had been a little tense since the encounter with the hunters. Though some of her thralls had set off after the Spider huntress, Ataya couldn’t have been less interested in whether Xualita got away. Her attention, and her fury, had been locked onto Sara ever since she’d tried to tell her what to do. In silence they had made their way to the river, flanked by Ataya’s tribal slaves. Well in silence, barring the obscenities from Sara as she was dragged across the forest floor by the scruff of her neck. Now she had been hauled upright by Ataya, whose face was still etched into a scowl.

“I am not the same weak willed chik who once inhabited this body.” She said, as though she had not made this clear already. Without ceremony she shoved Sara to her knees, forcing her head beneath the river. The chix gasped in unison.

“Sara!” Zaffy yelled in horror, dashing forwards as best she could while still physically attached to Pascal. A pair of thralls rushed forwards, restraining her with their impossible strength.

“Drink it up Sara!” Ataya said, easily holding down the struggling chik. A wicked grin spread across her face.

“Someone do something!” Zaffy pleaded, as she struggled against the vice like grip of the natives. Though the other chix attempted to intervene they quickly found themselves restrained as well. They were forced to watch as Sara slowly stopped bucking and thrashing against Ataya’s grip. Before they knew it she was hanging limp and Zaffy was screaming obscenities at the river spirit. Ataya pulled Sara’s corpse out of the river, dumping her on the riverbank.

--------

Slowly Sara awoke and everything felt different. The world felt distant and dulled, almost as though she was looking at it through an old black and white television as though she was not actually part of it. She felt so hot and stuffy, as though her entire body was being constricted constantly. Without even noticing she snapped the handcuffs that had restrained her in two. Her clothes clung to her, so restrictive, so oppressive. She began pulling them off revelling in the feeling of freedom that came as she exposed her skin to the cool air.

It was about this point that she noticed the voices that had been so distant, that had been little more than background noise. She looked at the chix, bound and restrained by the villagers with indifference. Even Zafira meant nothing to her any more. It was only when her eyes alighted upon Ataya that she felt anything other that despondency. Ataya was in clear focus, she was the most real, most vibrant thing that Sara could remember ever seeing. In that instant she knew all she wanted to do was to please Ataya, no matter what was required of her she would do it without question. Ataya was in that moment the only thing that had ever mattered in her life, and the only thing she could ever care about.

--------

“Come here my pet.” Ataya said. Sara immediately complied, her eyes affixed onto Ataya’s. “Good girl.” The river spirit smirked.

“You bitch!” Zaffy screamed. “You fucking bitch! I'll fucking kill you!”

“Don’t worry Zafira.” Ataya said. “You’ll be joining her soon enough.”

“I’d rather die!” Zaffy retorted angrily.

“Unfortunately for you that is not an option.” Ataya said. “You don’t have a choice. You never had a choice. You will all drink. You will all be mine; and not just you, and not just the stupid tribes of this valley. Sooner or later everyone will drink. Everyone will belong to me, in heart and mind and it will be glorious.”

“Fuck you!” Zaffy screamed defiantly. “If I drink from that river I’m gonna rip your fucking tits off you whore!”

“Sara, you take your lover and show her the light.” Ataya said. “I will take the ever enthusiastic Debbie.” Sara did as she was bid without a moment’s hesitation. Zaffy was dragged to the river in distraught silence, her eyes affixed to Sara, her mouth agape in distress. Debbie tried to fight Ataya off but it was fruitless.

--------

Nearby Mattilus and Naiima had been watching the scene unfold. Quickly Mattilus had concluded they couldn’t allow the chix to gain more power than they already had. He prepared to intervene.

SpoilerShow

GBCE · 09-23-2011, 11:52 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Protoman.

"Now."

Out from the trees, the duo erupted, the Mage atop the Spider. With an utterance of a word and a finger upon a page, Mattilus conjured up a bolt of lightning, arcing straight toward the Siren. As she sidestepped, Naiima altered her course, pinning her down and going straight for the throat.

The chix stared in shock, unsure of how to react as Ataya struggled to hold the spider away from her still-soft neck. They exchanged glances, hoping to find direction in one another. Mindy took a moment to shake herself from her daze- she had tried to distract herself with thoughts after seeing how brutally Ataya had handled the hunters, and only now was she awoken by the sudden din of battle. Seeing the horrifying sight unfold, she opened her mouth to scream. No words had the chance to come out. Zafira had grabbed a branch and began battering one of the spider's legs.

"We can deal with the bitch later, lets get these fuckers off our backs while we still can!"

Mattilus ducked as a rock whizzed past his head. He slid off of the spider, bringing his book to the jaw of Debbie. The short moment he took to breathe was interrupted quickly, as he found himself beset by a newly-enslaved Sara, followed by the other chix. As he was pushed to the ground and the brutal bludgeoning began, his book was kicked away by Zafira.

The Spider Goddess reared up on her hind legs at the sound of the Mage's cries, seeking to help her fallen comrade. Her good intentions were met with ill results, as the newly released River Siren kicked her several feet back.

"Fight, my darlings! Death to these mortals! Let them pay for having touched my divine face!"

The mage curled himself into a ball, cursing the tribal warrior who had ripped out and bled on the countless pages of healing spells his book had held. He closed his eyes, recieving only flashes of red, blue, and green with every kick to his abdomen.

But the spider was nimble. She quickly got back on her feet, and was once again upon the aggressors. With a kick, she sent Zafira sprawling, Debbie and Mindy following suit with another. But Sara, Sara was faster and stronger. She ducked under the spider's forelegs and launched several punches upward, straight into Naiima's gut. The spider hastily sped forward, trying to remove her vulnerable underbelly, but her aggressor foresaw the maneuver and grabbed her left hind leg to slow her retreat.

The mage grasped at the grass, hoping to drag himself from his tormentors. But he was met with no avail. With each club falling to his head, he felt the world growing a little bit dimmer.

The clever wizard certainly wasn't going to get out of this situation by wits alone.

-----

Back in the village of the Red Spider, an elder gazes upon the altar.

For generations, they had waited for the great spider. Now she was stolen away by the river, the same river they had long put their dead to rest in. They had believed it was a river of peace, a river of the gods that would lead the souls of their loved ones to the Great Web of the Spider, between the branches of the Tree of All Things.

But it had not been true. The river had not brought them to the spider, but instead had swept away the web. Their goddess had gone away, whisked away by the river just as the tiny spider of childrens stories had been whisked away by the rain.

The elder gazed upon the mural of the temple. It was a collective mural- every generation would create a new part of the painting to give warning or direction to their people.

He touched upon the very first- the image of a spider, drawn in red. Legend told it had been drawn in the blood of the first great chief's firstborn son, the first to be carried down the river into the dawn. With a heavy sigh and a heavy heart, he touched his finger to his satchel, untied it. He brought his finger to the dye that would make blue and dragged his finger down across his goddess. She was not dead. But she was not to return.

The river had carried away all that was sacred. It was never to be used for the dead again.

This was to be his warning to the generations that would come, should the fires of the sun smile and dry up the evils of the waters.

GBCE · 09-25-2011, 12:28 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Protoman.

The river's roar drowned out all sound. As Ataya's bloodlust and rage bled over, so did the rapids, spilling out on to the banks.

The elder watched from afar, pulled his knees to his body like a frightened child. There was nothing he, the mage, even the spider could do. The end was neigh.

Legend amongst the Green Leaves foretold of the day the river's banks would grow angry and swallow the land. They claimed it would be the day when man's hubris outweighed his virtue.

They were fools to think they could fight the very river which brought them life. They were fools to think they could destroy an age-old spirit with wood and stone. There was no hope left.

And so the legend had come true. Morokh and the rest of the militia they had raised had fallen quickly to the spears of the mindless hordes that had once been the clan of the Green Leaves. Only Ransajan had escaped, as he had acted more as a general than a soldier, commanding from the back rather than fighting from the front. And so he watched as several hundred tribesmen fought together, put aside their differences, and charged to their deaths.

And now he watched as the spider and the mage fought. The man would not escape. He was mere flesh and bone, and no amount of otherworldly power could kill a spirit.

The spider was a goddess. She had hope to live.

But for him, for the weak, the young, the old who had stayed behind in the village of the red spider, there was no hope.

Their world was ending.

------

run run run

the queen rushes away, up trees away through trees in defeat

this mouse can defeat winter

not mouse, not cat, demon

the demon defeated the winter

poor poor winter

not much time, cannot save

soon the winter will be silent and the silence will have no winter

poor poor winter

----

Mattilus reached once more for his book, and once more he was interrupted by a kick to the abdomen. He was dragged away from it, dragged to Ataya. He felt the blood from his newly broken nose start to reach his cheek. Never before had the archmage felt so much pain. Oftentimes his opponents fell far before ever reaching him. But now he was helpless.

That accident. It had ruined him. He had the power of the very gods at his fingertips. They had all been locked away inside of that goddamn book, locked away from him. He could no longer feel the magic coursing through his veins, if he couldn't feel the scratch of its pages. It was an iron lung.

And now he paid for it.

Perhaps it was always meant to end this way, he thought. Perhaps if he had died that day, he wouldn't have ever had to confront his hubris. Perhaps the gods who had given him the world, the gods who had taken it away, perhaps they wanted to teach him some kind of lesson.

The mage thought of all of this as he was dragged along the ground, brought to the spirit of the river.

"Hello, little Matty. You aren't looking quite as sharp as usual. Quite a bit of mud on that suit of yours."

The spirit of the river stepped onto Mattilus's chest as she said this, wiping the mud of the river from her feet onto his once well-kept suit.

"And hello to you as well, Atasha. I see your politeness has only decayed since our last meeting, hm?"

Pain. Pain and pressure exploded in the mage's chest as Ataya stomped on it with full force.

"You will address me by my true name. I am no longer Atascha. I am Ataya. And you will show me the respect I deserve. I believe you once called me a little rat caught in a corner. How does it feel, Mattilus? Being the rat waiting for the cat to pounce?"

The mage smirked, still catching his breath from the stomp to his chest. "As far as I can tell, madame, there are two rats among us. And the only thing worse than a filthy rat is a filthy rat who believes itself to be the Empress of Zaulitz in its dignity and kindness."

Pain once more. It seemed colder this time. "You're lucky i like you, Matty. You're cute, really. You dress up in a fancy suit, wear some glasses you don't even need, and think it makes you smarter than the gods of the heavens and the spirits of the earth. You're like a child who wraps a towel around his throat and thinks it makes him a superhero."

"And you, dearie, are like an insignificant, mean spirited gnat given the powers of the almighty ones. Look at your accomplishments, O River spirit. You've killed some savages, wooed a sparkklechik, and brought down a single insignificant Archmage of Destruction. All very honorable for certain mortals, I suppose, but you claim to be a deity. Frankly, I'm underwhelmed."

The goddess shook her head and sighed. "You are a stubborn one, Matty dear. I like that. But I'm afraid that part of you has to die now. You have two options. The first involves me holding you down and forcing you to drink water. The second involves you walking over there and drinking it yourself. Which do you prefer, Matty dear?"

Mattilus was silent. Gazing through his broken glasses, he saw the world in an interesting manner. Things were broken, fragmented. Everything was incomplete. Like he was now, he supposed. But it still managed to somehow retain its shape and form. He walked to the side of the river and gazed into its depths. He knew what he had to do.

"Any last words, Archmage?" The Siren smiled. He was in her grasp. It was so much more fun catching a large, strong prey than it was tiny ones. There was no greater pleasure than to tear them down from their greatest heights, making them fall from a height most men never reach.

"Just a few. I have thought, lately, about my past. Things have been taken away from me. Great things. I thought that, perhaps, the gods wanted to show me the price of my arrogance. They wanted me to see that, though they had given me great power, I was not one of them. This entire journey has been about that.

I felt on top of the world. But now, in my darkest hour, I see that I am nothing without those gods. I see that my arrogance has been my downfall. I see that I am nothing. I see that my struggle was in vain, that my fight to be stronger than all others was naught but a pipe dream. I fought long and I fought hard. And it's ended with me worse off than ever before. And frankly,

I don't care."

The mage clenched a fist and gazed at it for a moment. He uttered several words under his breath with a smile.

A flash of light emerged from him. If one looked carefully enough, they would see the mage being torn apart from the inside out by pure mana.

The flash was brief, but strong. It woke Ransajan out of his melancholic stupor. It caused Naiima to turn back and gaze, even if just for a brief moment. It caused the river spirit to flinch.

Nothing was left but a faint echo of the crash. As it weakened and reverberated between the walls of the valley, it sounded almost like laughter.

GBCE · 09-26-2011, 02:06 PM

Originally posted on MSPA by XX.

This is the day that Winter died.

she watches from the trees, from her home, from her shadows. she watches him die.

this is the day that winter ended.

her children are all dead. her cats. she walks among them as a ghost and they weep for her with blood on their lips. you are the dead, she wants to tell them, i am the one that should weep for you, but they cannot hear her any longer. their eyes are glass in the forest shadows and they watch and they watch and they watch

“Goddess…”

she hears the voice of a cat she knows, more kitten than cat, more mouse than man. the dead are weeping in the silence.

he is blind, this cat. the river took his eyes and other things. he watches her from a tree, from in the tree. the branches grow from his stomach and blossom red on a forest of bone, red on white on red on green. she hears his breath like a bird’s wings flying further and further away

“All of this,” he says through the blood on his teeth, “it was all for you. All for you.”

she stands in the field of the dead.

“We lost,” the cat says, quiet. “You couldn’t save us, Goddess. You couldn’t save us at all…”

she stands in the field of the dead.

his face is still in the shadow of the ghost as she runs through the forest, over the bones and the children crying for her to save them goddess goddess goddess save us save us we are the dead, we are the dead, we are the ones you killed

this is the day a god became nothing

this is the day that winter died

Ixcaliber · 09-28-2011, 11:58 AM

Originally posted on MSPA by Ixcalibur.

Though not that long ago Mindy had been keen to join Team Ataya, the last couple of minutes had been pretty hectic. First Ataya had been pretty quick to drown-convert Sara; Mindy wasn’t sure what precisely to describe it as because she was having a hard time keeping a handle on precisely what was going on. Sara was dead, or had been dead, and now was Ataya’s willing slave…? Could she even be described as the same person any more, her personality so thoroughly overwritten by the bitch queen of the river? But that was a semi-philosophical argument for another time. After that Naiima and Matty had shown up and, even though she did not like the spider, Mindy’s heart had all but leapt. The mere possibility that one of these two might be able to stop Ataya… to punish her for what she had done…

Of course everything had gotten a bit hectic and the upshot of it all was that Matty was dead. He had died a noble death, refusing to kowtow to Ataya, sacrificing himself in order to prevent that from happening. Now knelt in the mud, her hands still bound behind her back Mindy wept for the fallen soldier, and everyone that had been slain in this awful battle.

--------

Zafira hadn’t been much help in the battle. Mainly because she was still shackled to this oafish detective who had done nothing throughout the entire round other than stare longingly at Ataya’s sopping wet body. As it was she couldn’t give two shits about Matty or Naiima, her attention was focused solely on her love, her darling Sara. It made her blood boil to see her doting upon that river-whore. The only thing that prevented her from being completely overwhelmed with despair was the desperate notion that perhaps if she somehow managed to kill Ataya Sara would snap out of it. Not that she had any idea how to kill Ataya, she’d taken a spear to the head and it had barely even annoyed her.

Standing there, caked in mud, handcuffed to a mindless buffoon, Zafira fumed. Unable to do any real damage to the one person she wanted to deal damage to she contented herself by taking a swing at Pascal; it was a good blow and she was pretty sure it’d complete his set of black eyes.

--------

It was all Debbie could do not to scream. Not out of any horror or grief at Mattilus’ death, but just a general plaintive moan, a cry of frustration in a world that was patently not fair. They were singers! How were they ever supposed to compete in a battle to the death against an android, a musician and a giant spider? The fact that they were here at all was preposterous. Just when it had seemed that they might have a way to come out of this alive after all, it turned out to be nothing more than another threat. Ataya was not the key to winning the battle, she was another overpowered adversary. As far as she was concerned it was just her and Zaffy and Mindy now. Sara and Ataya might as well have been dead; it would at this point have been preferable.

After Mattilus’ death she knew she didn’t have long before they’d be sent somewhere new once again. She was grabbed by one of the naked tribesmen as Ataya reinitiated her conversion of the Chix. Debbie had one opportunity to do this. She spun around, twisting in the tribesman’s grip and of course blushing as she did so, kicked him in his exposed groin. She didn’t hang around to find out but she was pretty sure that within seconds he was collapsed upon the muddy floor. She darted over to where it had fallen and snatched up Mattilus’ book; her last hope at surviving this competition.