The Grand Battle II! [Happy End!]

Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.

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Hey dudes, I did this for waay too much of my spare time! (It's actually a SoFAS, but there you go)



Consider it fanart to all of yeh's. Cause you're all pretty awesome. And I will now go soak my eyeballs in tepid mint tea to cure the eyestrain.

Originally posted on MSPA by Sruixan.

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SpoilerNice... I once tried drawing Maxwell, but I never could a) finish it & b) get it just right... I mean, we all know what our characters look like in our heads, but it's always fun making it real... I just love how the pixels mean Maxwell's eyes are so huge - it looks eeriely accurate...

Now, um, it's occured to me that we haven't actually done anything in the past week... as far as I am concerned, AF needs to acknowledge Dorukomets at some point, though this can be done anywhen before the end of the round, either bobthepen or SO need to attack me and Galus or Opirian needs to respond to me. Schazer can't exactly do anything until bob or SO attacks, and I can't really do anything until either Opirian responds or we get attacked. If necessary, I could try guessing Galus's response, but Opirian said he was going to post, so... *shrugs*

Originally posted on MSPA by Opirian.

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Hey dudes, I did this for waay too much of my spare time! (It's actually a SoFAS, but there you go)



Consider it fanart to all of yeh's. Cause you're all pretty awesome. And I will now go soak my eyeballs in tepid mint tea to cure the eyestrain.

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Spoilerthat is pretty awesome, now all I have to do is actually post when I'm done being sick.

Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.

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SpoilerBob said because of this that and the other, he'd be posting on Monday most likely. Which is... today.

Also, eerily accurate has to be the coolest compliment I've received so far ^^ It just... didn't look right without whites.

Thanks Opirian! I hope you're feeling better soon.

Originally posted on MSPA by Opirian.

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Galus tightened his grip on his pistol, for some reason he was nervous. He sighed and holstered his pistol before he spoke "I would just as sooner kill you, but you're one of the few normal 'sane' people left in this damn game." Galus kept looking around the area they were in, "honestly I have no questions for you except one, any of the humanoid contestants here might be scared of their death as in our nature, why not you?" Maxwell started to laugh at the question but he calmed down quickly and looked Galus in the eye, "who said I'm not scared? or did the pilot just make an assumption," he paused for a second, "but I'll tell you the truth."

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SpoilerI apologize for the shortness of this post, I have writers block... on top of being sick

Originally posted on MSPA by snoomanwaff.

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SpoilerI likes the Cabaret picture, seems very...him.

Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.

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SpoilerYaay [img]images/smilies/icon_biggrin.gif[/img] You can't see it because lime green pixels don't show up on white, but he's throwing confetti or something with his other hand. Glad you like it ^^

Originally posted on MSPA by bobthepen.

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SpoilerBob is a liar and a charlatan and should be lynched at first site. Basically this is the last real week of school for me before finals and I have zero free time until probably Thursday. This is high on my to-do list when the time comes, as is editing the podcast, finishing Let's make a comic, updating FPU, and collating FFAOTM. That being said, I have absolutely no problem if someone wants to make Samuel/Gestalt attack whoever. I promise not to whine like I did that one time with Schazer way back then.

Oh also, Schazer...nice. [img]images/smilies/icon_cool.gif[/img]

Originally posted on MSPA by SleepingOrange.

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SpoilerAlright, I've been waiting on you, giving you a chance to let me know that Samuel wouldn't do that/would do it differently/whatever. I will probably post something soonish.

Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.

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SpoilerI beg to differ; Bob is not a liar as opposed to one who is incapable of seeing into the future. I'm still reserving judgment on whether this is a fatal flaw or not.
I make no comment on the charlatan crack. Reallifeandyourfutureismoreimportantthaninternetju nkblahblahblah.
And I think you were perfectly within your rights to gripe. I learnt my lesson and hold nothing against you for making a call there.

Also, I'll do the tally of FFAotM for this week, if you like. I have far too much spare time now, so it's no trouble.

And finally... Thanks. ^^

Originally posted on MSPA by snoomanwaff.

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SpoilerDisregard this post, I still want to see battleing.

Originally posted on MSPA by Dragon Fogel.

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SpoilerOkay, it's been more than a week since the last story post. And two weeks since the one before that one.

This is just a crazy idea I have, but maybe somebody should post something.

Originally posted on MSPA by Sruixan.

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SpoilerI would love to post (and indeed, I think that by the looks of things I am "supposed" to be the next poster, but I'm battling towards my major coursework deadline Friday and until then, I certainly can't post. Opirian was the last poster, Schazer needs an attack, Archduke should post and either bobthepen or SO could - so what if they burst into our conversation, they're "villains", they're allowed to do that.

Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.

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SpoilerHoly crap guys.

The 5th Wall actually sat down and physically read through our whole battle.

WE ACTUALLY HAVE A FAN!

CoughIwishyouluckwithfinalsbobbutfortheloveofgodpl easepostsoonkthxbaiendcough

Originally posted on MSPA by Dragon Fogel.

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SpoilerA thought: Perhaps everyone can do a quick, one-paragraph post? Just to get this moving again.

Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.

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The Faceless glided through a hallway whose vaulted arches gave the chamber an almost skeletal appearance, like Vyrm'n was the inky breath which rushed beneath the ribcage of beams. As it crossed beneath the last arch, Vyrm'n's swift flight halted with a gasping judder as it detected a warping of reality almost too subtle for it to sense. Perhaps it would've been easier; for one with eyes, and other such senses; to resignedly accept if space had been warped, so a series of passages that technically were intermeshing each other, could still function as normal discrete corridors. To a beast like Vyrm'n, the simple proof of having been there and seeing the corridors not colliding into each other should have been proof enough to let it suspend reality.

Complicating Vyrm'n's ability to let such anomalies go was Maxwell. He was a (presumably stationary) point of reference that Vyrm'n had been doggedly aiming for, and as such the Faceless had been following the now-distinctive song of his soul as it flowed through the Escherscape. As such, Vyrm'n had chosen this vaulted hallway as the other end was closer to Maxwell than the end it had started. And yet, as the corridor exhaled Vyrm'n, the first thing it felt was that Maxwell had somehow, in defiance of common sense, had suddenly become much further away. Even worse, Vyrm'n felt another consciousness sing out to the pulse of receptivity it struck out. Samuel and Gestalt. While the Faceless had travelled fruitlessly in circles, the murderous pair had steadily made their approach.

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit, Vyrm'n thought, quivering. It spent only the briefest of moments determining the nature of the anomaly, before taking two lefts and doubling back in Maxwell's direction. The Faceless reduced another door to splinters as it slipped through a courtyard into a new building. Vyrm'n listened again, and would've screamed with frustration if it could've. Maxwell's song now came crying back from two different points, each point given the backing vocals of Galus' aural declaration. The Faceless turned first towards the window, then to the street, agonising - both seemed right, and yet, because of this rightness in blatant disregard of the other, they were both so terribly, paradoxically wrong.

The Faceless could've simply chosen a direction and stuck with it, but the twistedness of the whole situation had finally come crashing down on Vyrm'n, in a panic which choked the breathless creature and left it rooted to the spot in bewilderment.

I'm not going to make it.

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SpoilerEh, it's a bit off, but like Fogel says, it has been, what? Nearly a fortnight.

Originally posted on MSPA by Sruixan.

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"Of course I'm scared, Galus. Believe you me, behind whatever facade I might haphazardly display, there's one scared individual. You ask the right question for the right reason - you've noticed the disadvantage that hampers us both - we are only human. I mean, I have the awkward feeling that, whatever I might tell myself, there is no way that I am going to survive this ordeal. I suspect, deep down, you have a similar feeling that troubles you, masquerading as those butterflies that inhabit your stomach."

There was a pause, presumably left deliberately, in which Maxwell just tried to let things sink in, not just into the mind of Galus, but also into his own thought processes, for there was about to be a clash of beliefs...

"I don't want to have to kill. I've never killed another living crea- well, never knowingly kil- OK, never purposeful- sentience. That'll work. I've never killed another sent- relatively... Galus, how many deaths are you responsible for? How many people have you killed? At least you have some violent streak in you, if you'll excuse my rashness - all I have is a dangerously unstable little bit of my mechanics that goes all wobbly over whether or not me being partial to a nice steak makes me a murderer. But dare I show that emotion? It is possibly in my interests to survive for as long as is humanly possible - see what I did there? - and portraying oneself as the man who is most likely to faint when internal organs become abnormally external is not the way to go about that!"

Galus tried to interrupt, but when Maxwell had a stream of conscious thought going, well, it was better described as a river in full flow.

"I was taught that life was precious. Life does not exist everywhere, does it Galus? You're a space pilot, right? There are a lot of stars out there, with an awful lot of planets orbiting them, but then there are a shedload of factors, tiny details on a universal scale, that do their best to stop life from happening. Any life that gets past then has another load of cosmological bureaucracy to get through if it wants to thrive. The chances of proper life getting started up - tiny, Galus. In this competition, there are eight specimens of life... well, eight specimes of sentience at the very least, and the whole purpose of this contest is to whittle that number down and down and down and down until there's one bugger left who's gone through enough trauma to get psychiatrists hunting them down every second of their lives outside the contest. And then, I bet you, the Observer will get bored once more and have another shot at this sort of thing. And if there's one Observer, why not assume there are more with similar powers? "Don't disappoint us" he said, right at the beginning of this madness. "Us". It's wrong, Galus. Erm... Galus, yeah... sorry 'bout that. Yeah, I, um, blabber a bit. Well, I say "a bit"..."

Through the relative protection of his helmet, Galus smirked.

"You're mad, Maxwell. You're completely mad."

"Have been since birth, never probably will stop being so. Now, anything else... oh, but of course! Have you seen Vyrm'n at all this round, Galus? Have you seen h- it?"

Originally posted on MSPA by bobthepen.

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SpoilerOh man I finally manged to post to this. Here's to getting this thing rolling again over the holidays. On a related note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY SCHAZER!

“Hmph,” Galus shrugged, “Personally I hope I never see that black monster again.”

Maxwell twitched. “Monster? True, some of Vyrm'n's actions have been rash…violent even…but”

“Are you serious? You saw what that thing did to Cabaret right? I shot it myself and it still kept on going. In this contest full of monsters that thing is the most monstrous of them all.”

“I'm not quite certain,” Maxwell bit his lip, “That is to say…there are variables…not everything can be seen...” The swordsman found himself struggling to rationalize the words of the pilot. Vyrm'n was powerful, foreign, alien, and expressed killing intent, is that not the definition of a monster? A series of descriptions flashed through Maxwell's mind. Monster: A threatening force, an animal of strange or terrifying shape, something monstrous, a person of unnatural or extreme wickedness. No, those were not Vyrm'n, not the Vyrm'n he knew. Those words were nothing like the silent black void he had found himself with in the garden. That monolithic being, that quiet listener of the cosmos, it, she, deserved far more than the description, “monster”. Yet…

“…It would be better said…well no not quite…perhaps more along the lines of…” Maxwell could not manage to produce an accurate description. He could say what Vyrm'n was not, easily enough, but when it came to actually clarifying what Vyrm'n was…

“…an enigma, a silent puzzle, a violent puzzle, a serene violent puzzle, no, not that. It's, She's…”

“A majestic creature.”

Maxwell stopped. At the end of the hallway, with his dark suit and malevolent grin, stood Samuel admiring one of the many paintings which adorned the walls. The Karmist continued.

“Pristine and elegant, truly awe inspiring.” Samuel placed his right hand on one of the paintings which, from what Maxwell could tell, depicted a swan in flight. He proceeded to run his finger along the bird's neck when he let out an exasperated sigh. “Please, allow me to indulge. The prelude is half the fun after all.”

Maxwell furrowed his brow. His last encounter with the Karmist ended with a useful exchange of information. Very useful, in fact to Maxwell who had ascertained that unless Samuel managed to meet certain conditions, he posed no immediate threat. Given that this world, unlike the two before, appeared lifeless aside from the contestants, there was little chance that Samuel had managed to perform whatever death-rite would give him an advantage in battle. Despite this, Maxwell could not put himself at ease. How had the Karmist so easily approached them without their knowing? True, Maxwell was absorbed in thought at the time, but Galus with his heightened hearing should have certainly noticed Samuel's approach.

Maxwell glanced over at the Ursian. Galus' pistol was drawn and aimed a few feet below the Karmists' head; however, Galus himself remained quiet, his eyes intent on the Karmits' movements.

“They are not always so elegant,” Samuel spoke again, seemingly to the painting but loud enough for the pair to hear. “At first they are wobbly on their feet. Unsure of their purpose, they imprint onto the first thing they see. It is not until later in their lives that they fully mature to become the elegant creature depicted here. Oh to be there at the point when they realize their true calling is a beautiful thing indeed.” Samuel's right palm rested on the painting, He sighed and slowly turned his head towards Maxwell and Galus, his eyes locking on the former. “Would you not agree, boy?”

With a deafening crack, Galus' pistol responded before Maxwell could.

“That's for nearly killing us in the garden!” Galus cried out. The Ursian clenched his teeth. “Damn, I missed.” Two more shots were fired off in quick succession before Maxwell managed to restrain his comrade.

“It's no use, he dodges. Strangely.” Samuel stood, unharmed and grinning. The uneasiness within Maxwell intensified. His feet. It isn't right. He should fall, poor balance. Where's his support?

“Stay on guard,” Maxwell urged, “Something is amiss. His movements are wrong.”

Galus raised an eyebrow.

“Fencing. Footwork is key. His is off. You shot, he dodged, but with movements that should have tripped him. He is being held up.”

Samuel curled his lip. “You should listen to him, Galus. He is much smarter than you, annoyingly so.”

The flurry of thoughts crowding Maxwell's mind demanded more information.

“What do you want?”

“I want her.”

Maxwell cringed, hoping he had misunderstood, “What do you mean?”

“What I mean, boy, is that...” A dinner fork flew from behind Samuel towards Maxwell. “No! Gestalt!” Samuel cried out, reaching out his hand towards the airborne utensil which then stopped and dropped to the ground. “We must leave him alive for now or we lose our chance.” “No we cannot kill the other. A shift in worlds could ruin everything.” “Because I understand the importance of dialogue, a skill which you inexplicably frown upon.” Samuel's scowl warped into an exaggerated frown. “Of course it is a troublesome expression to produce, you know that is not the point!” “…Very well.”

At this, Samuel's feet lifted up completely from the ground. A clamor of tin, ceramic, wood, paper and a host of other items flew in from behind him and proceeded to swirl around the Karmist. A flying mixture of silver utensils, rusted nails, a few picture frames, splintered crate lids, a white brick, and a plethora of assorted items wrapped themselves around Samuel's left arm.

In a swift motion, Samuel's serrated appendage lunged towards Maxwell, who narrowly dodged to the side.
“You will call her here, boy,” the Karmist shouted at Maxwell, “or I will make your death cry out for you!”

Originally posted on MSPA by Sruixan.

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Cringing slightly but breathing heavily, Maxwell took a pause for thought. He stared at the Karmist, trying to figure out just how long his fuse was. Long enough to let him realise something, at least...

"She's already coming, I think."

"You think? That's not exactly what I was hoping to hear, Maxwell..."

"Well sorry, but on this subject I can only theorise. If she's "heard" you two moving towards us, then I would expect that she would have therefore discerned that I might be in danger. That would make her want to find me as soon as possible, but then I'm worried that it isn't quite as simple as it sounds..."

"Hang on, she? Vyrm'n?" Galus was perhaps a little slower on the uptake than the other two had appreciated...

"Yet another non-concrete concept, but I felt that Vyrm'n deserved something more than a meager "it". I expect Samuel probably heard me let the pronoun slip as he approached and decided to use it to an emotional advantage."

That caused the Karmist to grimace, but wasn't quite worthy of another lunge.

"Continue, Maxwell."

"...well, the way she works, she's going to have a bit of a problem. She doesn't see and subsequently subjectively analyse the world around her - she relies on the objective information that she "hears", from the "songs" of everything that exists in her vicinity. She wouldn't be able to fathom, for example, the staircases that are littered about this place - too many different ideas of what down truely is, too many surfaces that could be the floor, all of which are proudly declaring that they are indeed down, whereas we say bugger that and just pick a step at random. She comes, Samuel, believe you me, but she's not going to be very pleased when she gets her-"

From Maxwell's point of view, one moment he was going through a fairly odd bit of multi-tasking - attempting to hold a relatively coherent conversation with a human being that had motive to murder and figuring out what paradoxical peculiarity was offputting him so. The next moment was very much dominated by a lot of rather sharp, pointy and possibly painful pieces of everyday junk that were at that point in time responsible for making him re-evaluate whether or not breathing was a real necessity. On one hand, the requirements of an input of oxygen and an output of carbon dioxide that, if unsatisfied, would certainly cause death. On the other, the aforementioned scarf of stuff that surrounded his neck, making any slight movement a regrettable decision. The transition between the two was probably witnessed by Galus, and judging by the little gasp he let slip, it had been quite the show.

"Well then, how's about put together a little beacon for her, to pave her path, to guide her on her way, hey? I'd say the quicker she gets here, the better, don't you?"

Trying to surpress his quivering, Maxwell suddenly had a fun time thinking much more than:

Vyrm'n? Um, help? Yeah, help? Please? Pretty please? I could kinda do with it right now...

Originally posted on MSPA by Opirian.

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SpoilerSo much awesome in the last two post... I think I need to refresh myself on everything going on.

Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.

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In a building in the waterfront that led into (and, the source of immeasurable confusion for Vyrm'n, was simultaneously overlooked by) the corridor in which Maxwell was presently being accosted, the Faceless continued to grapple with sensory information it was incapable of processing. It had no knowledge of the other contestants' sudden attentions being placed upon it, nor was the Faceless in any state to.

As it turned out, Escher's ability to mess with the mind was not confined to those with eyes. The way the Observer had built this world, when this corridor wasn't quite going to reach that doorway, conventional physics be damned. Heck, even an extra twelve feet of corridor to bridge the gap like a normal architect be damned. This architect had simply grabbed the two recalcitrant points, stretched reality to close the hole between them, and pinned the whole monstrosity down with great astral splines to cease its struggling as it fought to snap back to normality. Vyrm'n had never heard anything like it, and it was only now that it had finally ascertained the source of the warped warbling.

Admittedly, it had taken the Faceless at least ten minutes of flying through a recursive loop of a hallway before it had finally realised this; but now, like the sudden conscious realisation of a sanity-decimatingly insistent and irritating sound, the all-pervasive noise (and, indeed, this world was all one monstrous warping of space within itself within itself) had driven Vyrm'n to distraction - partly bewilderment, partly analytic contemplation, with more than an undertone of distress and frustration.

Then came the fear. It transcended the physical restrictions placed upon the Faceless within Escher's maze, and leapt straight from Maxwell to Vyrm'n. The raw emotion pierced through the Faceless with the same resistance it had found in solid rock and left the shadow shaken; but brutally refocussed on what was important. Its divine purpose restored in its mind, Vyrm'n wasted no more time selecting a direction and went crashing through the window. As if in immediate response to the Faceless' snap decision, Maxwell's resonance from down below strengthened; while the other impossibly possible routes offered by the warped physics of the Observer's world to reach the swordsman faded from Vyrm'n's vision like the dulling motes of dying universes...

And yet, the alien nature of the impulse made Vyrm'n slow mid-flight. That had come from Maxwell, without a doubt. But... this was different. Vyrm'n had, quite incontrovertibly, sensed Maxwell's emotions. The Faceless' senses should not have been capable of that, but, somehow...


Maxwell chanced a miniscule movement of his head as the faint sound of breaking glass was emitted from somewhere above. Galus, who had been standing warily, ready to fire or flee, made a much more noticeable reaction. Samuel caught the motion and checked it with a touch of pressure applied to Maxwell's neck by a sliver of green glass.

The resulting reflexive twitch of pain left Maxwell's throat peppered with innumerable splinters, and it took all of his self-control to avoid causing himself further injury. The shrapnel-scarf uncoiled a little, so breathing without harm was less of a challenge for the swordsman. Samuel sneered at Maxwell, arrogant self-confidence twisting his features into a self-indulgent grin.

"Will she be much longer, boy?" He asked it, knowing full well Maxwell probably had as much idea as Samuel did. Maxwell's shoulders twitched, as much as he could risk to confer a helpless shrug. Samuel gave a falsely exasperated sigh, still smirking as his fingers twitched through the air, as if grabbing at something invisible.
Maxwell had only a moment to wonder before he felt a nasty tickling sensation beneath his ribcage. Suddenly the deadly stranglehold was far less of a disincentive for the genius' breath to return in sharp, panicked gasps as Samuel tugged, with painful literalness, on Maxwell's heartstrings. The Karmist's grin was unceasing as Maxwell's discomfort increased. Poor Maxwell let loose a howl of agony as he thrashed about in a futile attempt to escape the pain, the ring of knives forgotten, flecks of blood showering the unmarred tiles.
Galus watched all this with little comprehension and a sense of horror, before he mercifully interrupted over Maxwell's screams.

"In- in that painting."

Galus pointed at the offending print, and indeed, on occasion a black shape could be seen darting ever closer and swifter through the alleys and over the roofs depicted in the waterfront scene. Samuel contemplated the odds of a ruse for a moment, before he finally released his grip on Maxwell's heart. He crossed the tile floor to stand before the painting in question as white bricks floated away from his blade arm. They quivered to a halt right in front of Maxwell's eyes, where they simply drifted; looming over the swordsman. Other than the quakes which wracked his frame, Maxwell was motionless.

Samuel, meanwhile, scrutinised the painting while Galus shuffled unchallenged towards the nearest exit. A moment later, Samuel had his head halfway through the canvas. He was frowning, looking downward and trying to ascertain whether in the world of the painting, there was anywhere behind the portal the Karmist presently gazed out of.

In the narrow gap between the arc of Samuel's back and the upper frame, Maxwell thought he saw something soar across the painted sky, but it was right out of the corner of his eye as Maxwell lacked the flexibility to set himself up for a better look. Samuel retracted his head, resting his hands on the bottom of the frame like a window, though the effect was ruined by his feet not touching the floor. Frowning pensively as he surveyed the deserted scene, and muttering, "Of course it's still around...", the Karmist turned to the sound of shattering glass as Vyrm'n smashed through the glass windows facing the picture wall, barreling into Samuel, swallowing him up in the roll, and cannoning back into the scene it had just left, Karmist in tow. A moment later, the schrotscarf uncoiled from Maxwell's neck and slithered after Samuel and Vyrm'n. Several moments after that, a marionette carrying an array of potentially lethal tools jogged up the corridor, and leapt through the painting/portal/window.

Maxwell and Galus remained, much as they had before Gestalt and Samuel's arrival. The only notable differences were Maxwell gingerly dabbing at the streaks of blood on his neck, and the copious amounts of shattered glass littering the corridor. Crunching his way across, Galus half-kneeled, partially concerned, partially wary of Maxwell.

"Are you all right?"

Maxwell's only reply was to smile wanly, jam his hat a little tighter on his head, and stand up as steadily as he could. He padded over to the painting Vyrm'n had charged through, but the Faceless' dark countenance did not mar the deceptively peaceful scene. Maxwell turned, to see Galus gazing out of the gaping hole, to the distant, floating islands, and the weak, violet sun.

"You don't suppose the Faceless would fly us over to those islands?" Maxwell ran another finger across his neck to check for any last cuts, then joined Galus at the remnants of the window. While he admired the view, within, Maxwell sighed.

And so the destruction begins anew...

Galus' words filtered through. Maxwell replied dismissively, "Oh no, Galus, can't you see? There's a barrier, much like the one in the Labyrinth field, I suppose... Here, allow me to show-" Maxwell started as Galus shoved him away. The pilot looked wary, Maxwell was merely nonplussed. Not sure what the problem was, Maxwell gave the Urisian his room and pointed outward.

"There... that... disruption, that has to be it. When you get a chance to take the whole thing in, it's quite extensive, really." Maxwell pointed it all out for Galus' benefit, but the Urisian still looked like Maxwell was speaking in tongues.

"What on Ceres am I supposed to be looking at? I can't see anything, Maxwell."

"But it's..." Maxwell checked again as Galus shook his head and took his leave, but as Maxwell focussed harder on what he'd seen it seemed to vanish. No swift disappearing act, just an increasing lack of visibility until Maxwell wasn't sure if he was looking at the real thing or just his memory of it.

This is the kind of thing, Maxwell, that Vyrm'n could see.

The genius could not argue with this statement, so he had to make do with ignoring it. Nervously placing his hand to confirm his heart was still beating while kicking glass out of the path, Maxwell wondered what to do next - to assist Vyrm'n or try and find safety. A precursory glance into the waterfront painting showed that Vyrm'n and Samuel had taken the fight off the main street, possibly into an alleyway or similar. He couldn't help but wish Vyrm'n would be a bit more... readable. Was she planning to take Samuel down on her own? And for that matter, what on earth could the Karmist possibly want with her?

Maxwell laid his hand over his heart again, biting his lip. From what the Karmist had said, Maxwell ascertained that Samuel's interest was in Vyrm'n, and whatever transaction was taking place had to occur in this round. Or did it? That would be mighty strange, unless this sterile world had a factor only Samuel could detect... Either way, the death of a contestant was presently not conducive to whatever nefarious schemes Samuel was dreaming up; which was an honest relief to Maxwell. At present, the genius was without enemies. The Sunset had no motive to kill him, nor did Galus or Vyrm'n. Judging by the actions of the marionette, and Samuel's actions... Gestalt had melded with the Karmist, which explained the one-sided discussions and the telekinesis.

If it were not for that last fact, Maxwell may have taken a moment to breathe a sigh of relief and relax. As it was, the ramifications of this new, alien foe had put the swordsman on edge. Maxwell still clutched at his heart as he stood awkwardly in the glass-strewn corridor, as though afraid it would be torn from him at any moment.

Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.

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Partly because I don't want this to leave the first page. Partly because I got to doodling between digesting meals.

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Apologies for poor quality, I need a scanner (and decent drawing skills) so badly. Plus I wasn't allowed on the computer so some characters' hairstyles and such are really really off.

However drawing crowd scenes = fun. So to all the Grand Battlers and Battle Royaler- um, Battle Royalists? Let's just work on that later Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

Originally posted on MSPA by Opirian.

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SpoilerIs that my character on the couch?

Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.

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SpoilerYup. 24 characters, from Grand Battles 1 and 2, and also Battle Royale.

Some were done worse than others. Namely the ones for whom I had no reference. But fair enough, as it's Christmas and computering shouldn't be my current focus. :P

Originally posted on MSPA by Opirian.

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SpoilerWell its good IMO, that Galus looks awesome.

Much better than my art XD

Merry X-mas,