04-13-2010, 12:10 AM
Szar stood in awe of the creature that carved a swath of destruction through the surrounding area. He'd never seen anything so big; one of the hairs on its back was probably the length of a car. Iceman wasn't sure what Gamer had planted the creature here for, or if he even had at all. However, it was clear that it needed to be stopped. While the enviornment they were in was virtual, they themselves were very real. A death at the hands of the monster meant dying for keeps. And, having seen the horrors of Hell first hand--Limbo, technically, but Szar wasn't one who got wound up in technicalities--he wanted to keep as many of his friends and fellow contestants from dying as possible.
Being put up against an unstoppable force really made you question your own morality. What would death be like? Would it be painful, painless, slow or fast, there were so many ways to die. And then there was the question of what happened after, where did you go when you left the mortal plane? Did your soul ascend to Heaven on high, or into the darkest depths of Hell? Szar had the luxury of knowing where he was going, but that didn't mean that he was beyond redemption. If he managed to stop this rampaging monster here, would his ballot be reconsidered?
In truth it didn't really matter. Even if he was destined to return to Hell at the game's conclusion, that didn't mean that he would sit back and let the beast roam free. Being heroic was very problematic. It meant putting life and limb on the line for people you didn't even know, simply because it was within your nature to do so. Szar knew several people who would do that, but one wasn't here and the other had already left him alone to deal with the problem in her own way. That meant that he had to step into the hero's shoes. Looking down to his feet, wriggling his three toes, Szar wondered if he could even fit in them, much less wear them. With the sun at his back and the world melting around him, the hell-bound Icer began a full-on sprint, the monstrous leviathan towering in front of him.
As he grew nearer, the scope of the battle became clear. Aside from himself, there were three other people present. One, a blue haired girl who looked more like a princess than a fighter, was slinging ice at the monster. The air around him grew colder as he neared. She has an impressive grasp on cryokinesis Despite her commandment of the elements, she seemed very timid. Her body appeared to be acting on instinct, perhaps she wasn't entirely in control of the situation at hand? Was her power tied to stress, maybe? Szar had heard of people--gifted elementals--who were unable to tap into their powers unless under extreme duress. And the hulking monstrosity definitely qualified as a capable stressor.
Another was a man dressed to impress in the middle of a desert. His outfit was hardly the strangest thing about him, however. His hands were clutching dual pistols --Desert Eagles, unless Szar missed his guess. Floating behind him Floating? How was that even possible? was a wall of weapons. A cryokinetic girl and a boy with impressive telekinetic powers, if not for the fact that their combined attacks did little to phase the beast, Szar would have let them handle it. After all, the Icer knew every pressure point on a man's body, was well versed in interrogation and analyzation, and could drive a car and fly a plane as well as anyone, but fighting giant monsters was hardly his forté. He could use ki, certainly, but if subzero temperatures weren't enough to stop the leviathan, his ki would likely have little impact at all.
The final member of their impromptu crew was a plain, unassuming male with hair as dark as coal. Szar got the feeling that he knew this one from somewhere, but where they might of met escaped him. He was leaping impressively around the creature's head, his twin swords doing little visible damage but that was not likely his intention. He was probably trying to act as a diversion so that the two ranged fighters could do their work without recourse. An efficient--albeit dangerous--stratagem. It did tell Szar how he could be of use, however. While all three were capable fighters and were holding their own well enough, it was unlikely any of them had any formalized training. Szar's mind could come in handy here, the question was would they listen to him?
He hoped that in the face of such a crisis that they would come together, but he couldn't count on it. He would have to establish himself before he began barking orders. They would be likely to follow him if he proved that he was of more use that simply telling them what to do. He just had to figure out the best way to insert himself into the fray. If he charged blindly, relying on his fleet feet and martial prowess, he would be squashed. Three ranged to one melee weren't good odds for the tanned figure, so that was out of the question. Help would come from the most unlikely of places. As Szar stood on the edge of the battlefield, pondering how best to enter, a commanding voice sounded behind him.
"What are you doing? Are you just going to stand there?!"
Szar wheeled around and almost burst out laughing. The man in front of him was short--comically so. His ears were pointed and he was wearing a pair of yellow shorts, a red vest, and a yellow tie. His arms were crossed and his expression was that of absolute fury. Szar knew what it was like for people to balk at his appearance, but that mostly stemmed from ignorance. A changeling was uncommon, but an elf was an absolute rarity.
"I'm thinking, go away." Szar said, flinching as the black-haired man barely managed to avoid the monster's sweeping tail.
"Do you really think now is the time for thinking?" the elf hollered, standing on his tip-toes. "Grab a weapon and help!"
Szar looked behind the elf, seeing a small shanty. There was no door and weapons were literally spilling out onto the sand. How had he not noticed that? He'd ran right by a treasure trove of weaponry and he hadn't even seen it.
"Thanks, shorty!" Szar jibed, relishing in the fact that he had found someone shorter than him, before he sprinted towards the shack. Inside there were innumerable weapons, swords, axes, clubs, maces, flails, crossbows, bows, guns of every caliber. His eyes wandered to a massive broad sword at the back of the shack. It screamed for him to wield it. He'd be like a hero of legend, charging into battle against a fearsome creature with only a sword. However, when he tried to lift it he found that, while he could carry it, it would prove unwieldy. Deciding instead on an equally fearsome pair of axes that, despite their appearance, were impressively light and easy to handle. Twirling them in his grip, Szar felt some of his apprehension slip away. He was smart enough to know that weapons didn't make the battle, but he was competent his skill with them would at least do some good.
Turning back to the Terraesque, he bellowed as frightening a battle cry as he could muster, before leaping at the beast. Casually it turned to face him, its mouth opening wide, exposing rows of razor sharp teeth. Once he was close enough to feel the heat of the monster's breath, he dashed away in a flash of speed, reappearing on its back. Raising axes high, Szar slammed the weapons down. The monster's hide was like steel, and Szar's arms trembled from the reverberation of metal axe meeting hard scale.
"I'm glad I'm not the only one that happened to." a voice said from his side. Turning to face the tanned man, Szar finally realized why the man seemed so familiar.
"Hotshot? You flew an X-Wing in the third round? It's me, Iceman!"
"Well what do you know? I guess we're working together again, huh? What I would give for one of those bombs that blew up that Kill Cluster. And the name's Ander."
Szar extended his hand and Ander took it, shaking it firmly. "So what do you think we should do?"
Ander shrugged. "Hitting it in the face works well enough, I guess."
Szar laughed openly. In the face of death, this man stood unafraid. Or, he was working hard to appear un-bothered by the circumstances. "Good enough for me. I'll take left and you go right?"
Ander acquiesced, and in a flash they were sprinting along the monster's back towards its head. Szar would not let anyone here die. He would die again before letting that happen.
Being put up against an unstoppable force really made you question your own morality. What would death be like? Would it be painful, painless, slow or fast, there were so many ways to die. And then there was the question of what happened after, where did you go when you left the mortal plane? Did your soul ascend to Heaven on high, or into the darkest depths of Hell? Szar had the luxury of knowing where he was going, but that didn't mean that he was beyond redemption. If he managed to stop this rampaging monster here, would his ballot be reconsidered?
In truth it didn't really matter. Even if he was destined to return to Hell at the game's conclusion, that didn't mean that he would sit back and let the beast roam free. Being heroic was very problematic. It meant putting life and limb on the line for people you didn't even know, simply because it was within your nature to do so. Szar knew several people who would do that, but one wasn't here and the other had already left him alone to deal with the problem in her own way. That meant that he had to step into the hero's shoes. Looking down to his feet, wriggling his three toes, Szar wondered if he could even fit in them, much less wear them. With the sun at his back and the world melting around him, the hell-bound Icer began a full-on sprint, the monstrous leviathan towering in front of him.
As he grew nearer, the scope of the battle became clear. Aside from himself, there were three other people present. One, a blue haired girl who looked more like a princess than a fighter, was slinging ice at the monster. The air around him grew colder as he neared. She has an impressive grasp on cryokinesis Despite her commandment of the elements, she seemed very timid. Her body appeared to be acting on instinct, perhaps she wasn't entirely in control of the situation at hand? Was her power tied to stress, maybe? Szar had heard of people--gifted elementals--who were unable to tap into their powers unless under extreme duress. And the hulking monstrosity definitely qualified as a capable stressor.
Another was a man dressed to impress in the middle of a desert. His outfit was hardly the strangest thing about him, however. His hands were clutching dual pistols --Desert Eagles, unless Szar missed his guess. Floating behind him Floating? How was that even possible? was a wall of weapons. A cryokinetic girl and a boy with impressive telekinetic powers, if not for the fact that their combined attacks did little to phase the beast, Szar would have let them handle it. After all, the Icer knew every pressure point on a man's body, was well versed in interrogation and analyzation, and could drive a car and fly a plane as well as anyone, but fighting giant monsters was hardly his forté. He could use ki, certainly, but if subzero temperatures weren't enough to stop the leviathan, his ki would likely have little impact at all.
The final member of their impromptu crew was a plain, unassuming male with hair as dark as coal. Szar got the feeling that he knew this one from somewhere, but where they might of met escaped him. He was leaping impressively around the creature's head, his twin swords doing little visible damage but that was not likely his intention. He was probably trying to act as a diversion so that the two ranged fighters could do their work without recourse. An efficient--albeit dangerous--stratagem. It did tell Szar how he could be of use, however. While all three were capable fighters and were holding their own well enough, it was unlikely any of them had any formalized training. Szar's mind could come in handy here, the question was would they listen to him?
He hoped that in the face of such a crisis that they would come together, but he couldn't count on it. He would have to establish himself before he began barking orders. They would be likely to follow him if he proved that he was of more use that simply telling them what to do. He just had to figure out the best way to insert himself into the fray. If he charged blindly, relying on his fleet feet and martial prowess, he would be squashed. Three ranged to one melee weren't good odds for the tanned figure, so that was out of the question. Help would come from the most unlikely of places. As Szar stood on the edge of the battlefield, pondering how best to enter, a commanding voice sounded behind him.
"What are you doing? Are you just going to stand there?!"
Szar wheeled around and almost burst out laughing. The man in front of him was short--comically so. His ears were pointed and he was wearing a pair of yellow shorts, a red vest, and a yellow tie. His arms were crossed and his expression was that of absolute fury. Szar knew what it was like for people to balk at his appearance, but that mostly stemmed from ignorance. A changeling was uncommon, but an elf was an absolute rarity.
"I'm thinking, go away." Szar said, flinching as the black-haired man barely managed to avoid the monster's sweeping tail.
"Do you really think now is the time for thinking?" the elf hollered, standing on his tip-toes. "Grab a weapon and help!"
Szar looked behind the elf, seeing a small shanty. There was no door and weapons were literally spilling out onto the sand. How had he not noticed that? He'd ran right by a treasure trove of weaponry and he hadn't even seen it.
"Thanks, shorty!" Szar jibed, relishing in the fact that he had found someone shorter than him, before he sprinted towards the shack. Inside there were innumerable weapons, swords, axes, clubs, maces, flails, crossbows, bows, guns of every caliber. His eyes wandered to a massive broad sword at the back of the shack. It screamed for him to wield it. He'd be like a hero of legend, charging into battle against a fearsome creature with only a sword. However, when he tried to lift it he found that, while he could carry it, it would prove unwieldy. Deciding instead on an equally fearsome pair of axes that, despite their appearance, were impressively light and easy to handle. Twirling them in his grip, Szar felt some of his apprehension slip away. He was smart enough to know that weapons didn't make the battle, but he was competent his skill with them would at least do some good.
Turning back to the Terraesque, he bellowed as frightening a battle cry as he could muster, before leaping at the beast. Casually it turned to face him, its mouth opening wide, exposing rows of razor sharp teeth. Once he was close enough to feel the heat of the monster's breath, he dashed away in a flash of speed, reappearing on its back. Raising axes high, Szar slammed the weapons down. The monster's hide was like steel, and Szar's arms trembled from the reverberation of metal axe meeting hard scale.
"I'm glad I'm not the only one that happened to." a voice said from his side. Turning to face the tanned man, Szar finally realized why the man seemed so familiar.
"Hotshot? You flew an X-Wing in the third round? It's me, Iceman!"
"Well what do you know? I guess we're working together again, huh? What I would give for one of those bombs that blew up that Kill Cluster. And the name's Ander."
Szar extended his hand and Ander took it, shaking it firmly. "So what do you think we should do?"
Ander shrugged. "Hitting it in the face works well enough, I guess."
Szar laughed openly. In the face of death, this man stood unafraid. Or, he was working hard to appear un-bothered by the circumstances. "Good enough for me. I'll take left and you go right?"
Ander acquiesced, and in a flash they were sprinting along the monster's back towards its head. Szar would not let anyone here die. He would die again before letting that happen.