Post by Egos on Apr 27, 2012 19:50:52 GMT -5
Day 5
The retreat was temporary, of course. The Arcadians were merely pulling back in response to a recent surge of Armada activity.
There were gasps and yells and jabbing fingers as the Arcadian resistance found the Renegade amongst the walking wounded. Walking, that is, in the wrong direction. Towards the forefront of the combat.
The Elder, maddened and old and too far gone to care what became of himself, ran over to the amazed Renegade and shook him.
"How the hell can you die? You're the Renegade! That makes no sense!"
"I have a corporeal body just like the rest of you," the Renegade muttered. "I don't understand why this is always so hard for you people to grasp. It can die, it's just that I can come back at a later date."
"The rest of us don't have that luxury," Phyphor snapped. And then someone snapped his psyche.
The Elder screamed. And then he screamed again, stumbling his way down an alleyway, pursued by imaginary horrors. But they were perfectly real to him, and when monstrous beasts are snapping at your heels that's all that matters.
The Renegade looked down at his frankly ludicrous wounds. He was like an animated, bloodied skeleton at this stage. Little wisps of crimson danced around his outline as he fought to keep his body functional.
The Cultists approached. So they would deal the finisher.
Rysk, resplendent in the garb of a High Councillor, yelled something obscene as he was pummelled and flung through a window high above the amassing horde. No one batted an eyelid.
"Very well, 'demigods'." The Renegade raised a hand. "Let us play your game. Let's see how many of you I can kill before you finish toying with me and—"
His body evaporated. The mist was so fine that it resembled a soft haze of red, more a sandstorm than a shower of gore.
This is problematic, said the Renegade's recently disembodied voice.
With that freak of nature banished the ritual would be all the easier. As one man, the Cultists sighed in satisfaction.
Except for Sha Buiti. He sort of... choked. And then crumbled into nothingness.
The retreat was temporary, of course. The Arcadians were merely pulling back in response to a recent surge of Armada activity.
There were gasps and yells and jabbing fingers as the Arcadian resistance found the Renegade amongst the walking wounded. Walking, that is, in the wrong direction. Towards the forefront of the combat.
The Elder, maddened and old and too far gone to care what became of himself, ran over to the amazed Renegade and shook him.
"How the hell can you die? You're the Renegade! That makes no sense!"
"I have a corporeal body just like the rest of you," the Renegade muttered. "I don't understand why this is always so hard for you people to grasp. It can die, it's just that I can come back at a later date."
"The rest of us don't have that luxury," Phyphor snapped. And then someone snapped his psyche.
The Elder screamed. And then he screamed again, stumbling his way down an alleyway, pursued by imaginary horrors. But they were perfectly real to him, and when monstrous beasts are snapping at your heels that's all that matters.
The Renegade looked down at his frankly ludicrous wounds. He was like an animated, bloodied skeleton at this stage. Little wisps of crimson danced around his outline as he fought to keep his body functional.
The Cultists approached. So they would deal the finisher.
Rysk, resplendent in the garb of a High Councillor, yelled something obscene as he was pummelled and flung through a window high above the amassing horde. No one batted an eyelid.
"Very well, 'demigods'." The Renegade raised a hand. "Let us play your game. Let's see how many of you I can kill before you finish toying with me and—"
His body evaporated. The mist was so fine that it resembled a soft haze of red, more a sandstorm than a shower of gore.
This is problematic, said the Renegade's recently disembodied voice.
______________________________________________________________
With that freak of nature banished the ritual would be all the easier. As one man, the Cultists sighed in satisfaction.
Except for Sha Buiti. He sort of... choked. And then crumbled into nothingness.
Night 4 casualties
38thDoe, the Renegade, mobbed and then blown apart by massive telekinetic energies
Phyphor, the Elder, overwhelmed and then had their mind shattered
REG Rysk, a High Councillor, repeatedly blasted and then punched. Hard
Kime, a Doctor, struck by multiple attacks
Shabooty, the Overseer Cultist, telekinetically pierced and then unmade
schuss, a Soldier, elected to position of dead person
38thDoe, the Renegade, mobbed and then blown apart by massive telekinetic energies
Phyphor, the Elder, overwhelmed and then had their mind shattered
REG Rysk, a High Councillor, repeatedly blasted and then punched. Hard
Kime, a Doctor, struck by multiple attacks
Shabooty, the Overseer Cultist, telekinetically pierced and then unmade
schuss, a Soldier, elected to position of dead person