Sungate (part 22)
Mr Zoat
Dedicated ragequitter
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11th September 2012
20:04 GMT
And he's there, sword slicing into-. Through my overshield without apparent effort. I sidestep, voiding his follow-up as I raise-. He's back in his original location.
"Weak, alien."
"Nice sword. Apokoliptian?"
And he's angry. Very angry. I really would like to know what actually happened on Karrakan, but I think this is a three-edged sword situation. I can't see either side giving me a reliable answer, and I can hardly-.
I yank myself to the side as he appears again, sword cutting through my construct armour and cutting a slice in my power armour. I send a filament at him as he hesitates for a split second, not sure whether to swing again or retreat. It splashes against some sort of protective barrier around him, and that appears to make his decision for him as he vanishes back to his starting location.
Angry, but making good judgements. That's-. That's me being compelled to intellectualise and not actually act.
No reason not to combine the two impulses. Whatever shielded him from the filament appears to do the same to my empathic vision, but that doesn't mean I can't just sever-. Okay, apparently it does.
X-ionised knives, then.
"Pathetic. Could they find none better?"
Ring, it's been a while, but Ready In-.
Alert.
I turn, knife blades moving as my assailant appears to my right, sword stabbing into my thick rerebrace rather than going into my face. My knives stab at his armour while I try draining the sword in the same way I did the ship's shield.
He tries pulling the sword free, and it doesn't come. My knives fail to pierce his cuirass, while he raises his off hand to block the one that I sent at his exposed face.
I step away shoulder armour glowing as I suck whatever magic is making his sword work out of it. He tries to pull it free but it's stuck; the heavy outer plates of my armour clamping down on the flat sides of the blade.
And then I punch him with my left fist, crumbler gauntlet smashing into the protective shield his armour generates, flares of magic and plasma flickering out as I increase the output. With a frustrated snarl he releases the sword, backing off a pace.
"Thank you."
I form a construct-.
The sword vibrates, the plates gripping it abrading and losing their grip as-.
As I form a construct positron ray and shoot the owner in the chest!
"Ah!"
The positrons don't hit the armour, but the energy released by them reacting with the air immediately next to his protective aura is enough to send him hurtling backwards. Doesn't look like his armour has any sort of inertial dampening system, but he's toughing it out and getting back to his feet.
The sword stops vibrating, and I extend a strand of orange light up to the handle and pull it free before knitting my armour back together.
"Thank you. I'll keep-."
The accompanying squad aim and fire, blaster-. No, plasma, striking my construct armour. But these weapons are far more conventional, far closer to the levels of energy output that I designed my power armour to take. So while my weakened construct armour fades and the armour starts taking hits, I'm not really worried.
At least not for the fraction of a second it takes to turn my own gun on them. The first load of positrons hits my initial target and erases him, the explosion burning the deck, walls, ceiling and sending his comrades flying! There was a force field there, but-
"Damn you!"
-it wasn't anything like strong enough. Or perhaps it wasn't designed to cope with positrons? That's not uncommon.
Their leader draws a small knife-. Then uses it to cut his exposed face, coating the blade in blood before-.
I shoot him again, but he's touched his knife to his chest plate and his body is swelling, veins of red light appearing all over its matt black surface.
"Thank you, alien, for giving me the chance to prove my faith!"
"Is there any chance we could talk ab-?"
He lunges, and while the travel time isn't nothing, it's quicker than his-
And he's punched me back outside of the ship.
-other movement. He grabs my armour, one hand on my right shoulder and the other on my left arm and both pulling in opposite directions! I can hear my armour creak as he keeps growing and the force he exerts keeps increasing! I send x-ionised knives at his face once more, and while they bite into his flesh I can actually feel the resistance as his innate magics try and nullify the thing that's harming him.
My left arm is at full extension and he's trying to tear it free.
Tether his discarded sword, connect it to my tattoos and feed it and stab!
It slices through his cuirass, punching into his gut! He twitches and grimaces before snarling.
"You first!"
I try slicing further in, but this sword isn't really meant for sawing. My shoulder is approaching maximum strain; it's just not optimised for shearing force. Ah-.
Drain him directly.
Orange light radiates out of his stomach wound and the pressure on my armour decreases at once. Still more stress over a sustained period than I'd like, but he's not going to rip my arm off like that. I lift my right arm and grab onto the hand on my shoulder, reinforcing my environmental shield and yanking at it, doing what I can to remove the friction-
He loses his grip, twisting sideways at the sudden loss of pressure.
-as I drain harder.
"What-? What are you-?"
"Enjoy existence as a construct."
He shudders, body shrivelling without shrinking, armour caving in on itself.
"Assimilate."
"Unable to comply."
He starts choking, vitals fading.
"Why not?"
"This one is not yours to take, Lantern."
I scan, but I can't tell where that came from. I take a moment to look at the corpse still clamped onto me. It hasn't lost any height but it's unnaturally thinned, giving the impression of a long-term dungeon inhabitant who has been drawn on the rack. Then I toss it aside and fly back into the ship.
The surviving soldiers are picking themselves up and I use constructs to grab onto the armour and pull, tearing it from their bodies and leaving them in scraps and their under suits.
Still need information.
"Assimilate."
Orange strands leap out and are pushed back before they can touch them, the bodies of the defeated decaying to.. ash to fuel the spell.
"And neither are these."
"Sparta. I don't know what you want, but you came here to pick a fight rather than settling anywhere else." I run in the direction of the cruiser's bridge. "You won't get the choice again."
"What is one more titan to the Bane of Titans?"
"If that's how you want it."
20:04 GMT
And he's there, sword slicing into-. Through my overshield without apparent effort. I sidestep, voiding his follow-up as I raise-. He's back in his original location.
"Weak, alien."
"Nice sword. Apokoliptian?"
And he's angry. Very angry. I really would like to know what actually happened on Karrakan, but I think this is a three-edged sword situation. I can't see either side giving me a reliable answer, and I can hardly-.
I yank myself to the side as he appears again, sword cutting through my construct armour and cutting a slice in my power armour. I send a filament at him as he hesitates for a split second, not sure whether to swing again or retreat. It splashes against some sort of protective barrier around him, and that appears to make his decision for him as he vanishes back to his starting location.
Angry, but making good judgements. That's-. That's me being compelled to intellectualise and not actually act.
No reason not to combine the two impulses. Whatever shielded him from the filament appears to do the same to my empathic vision, but that doesn't mean I can't just sever-. Okay, apparently it does.
X-ionised knives, then.
"Pathetic. Could they find none better?"
Ring, it's been a while, but Ready In-.
Alert.
I turn, knife blades moving as my assailant appears to my right, sword stabbing into my thick rerebrace rather than going into my face. My knives stab at his armour while I try draining the sword in the same way I did the ship's shield.
He tries pulling the sword free, and it doesn't come. My knives fail to pierce his cuirass, while he raises his off hand to block the one that I sent at his exposed face.
I step away shoulder armour glowing as I suck whatever magic is making his sword work out of it. He tries to pull it free but it's stuck; the heavy outer plates of my armour clamping down on the flat sides of the blade.
And then I punch him with my left fist, crumbler gauntlet smashing into the protective shield his armour generates, flares of magic and plasma flickering out as I increase the output. With a frustrated snarl he releases the sword, backing off a pace.
"Thank you."
I form a construct-.
The sword vibrates, the plates gripping it abrading and losing their grip as-.
As I form a construct positron ray and shoot the owner in the chest!
"Ah!"
The positrons don't hit the armour, but the energy released by them reacting with the air immediately next to his protective aura is enough to send him hurtling backwards. Doesn't look like his armour has any sort of inertial dampening system, but he's toughing it out and getting back to his feet.
The sword stops vibrating, and I extend a strand of orange light up to the handle and pull it free before knitting my armour back together.
"Thank you. I'll keep-."
The accompanying squad aim and fire, blaster-. No, plasma, striking my construct armour. But these weapons are far more conventional, far closer to the levels of energy output that I designed my power armour to take. So while my weakened construct armour fades and the armour starts taking hits, I'm not really worried.
At least not for the fraction of a second it takes to turn my own gun on them. The first load of positrons hits my initial target and erases him, the explosion burning the deck, walls, ceiling and sending his comrades flying! There was a force field there, but-
"Damn you!"
-it wasn't anything like strong enough. Or perhaps it wasn't designed to cope with positrons? That's not uncommon.
Their leader draws a small knife-. Then uses it to cut his exposed face, coating the blade in blood before-.
I shoot him again, but he's touched his knife to his chest plate and his body is swelling, veins of red light appearing all over its matt black surface.
"Thank you, alien, for giving me the chance to prove my faith!"
"Is there any chance we could talk ab-?"
He lunges, and while the travel time isn't nothing, it's quicker than his-
And he's punched me back outside of the ship.
-other movement. He grabs my armour, one hand on my right shoulder and the other on my left arm and both pulling in opposite directions! I can hear my armour creak as he keeps growing and the force he exerts keeps increasing! I send x-ionised knives at his face once more, and while they bite into his flesh I can actually feel the resistance as his innate magics try and nullify the thing that's harming him.
My left arm is at full extension and he's trying to tear it free.
Tether his discarded sword, connect it to my tattoos and feed it and stab!
It slices through his cuirass, punching into his gut! He twitches and grimaces before snarling.
"You first!"
I try slicing further in, but this sword isn't really meant for sawing. My shoulder is approaching maximum strain; it's just not optimised for shearing force. Ah-.
Drain him directly.
Orange light radiates out of his stomach wound and the pressure on my armour decreases at once. Still more stress over a sustained period than I'd like, but he's not going to rip my arm off like that. I lift my right arm and grab onto the hand on my shoulder, reinforcing my environmental shield and yanking at it, doing what I can to remove the friction-
He loses his grip, twisting sideways at the sudden loss of pressure.
-as I drain harder.
"What-? What are you-?"
"Enjoy existence as a construct."
He shudders, body shrivelling without shrinking, armour caving in on itself.
"Assimilate."
"Unable to comply."
He starts choking, vitals fading.
"Why not?"
"This one is not yours to take, Lantern."
I scan, but I can't tell where that came from. I take a moment to look at the corpse still clamped onto me. It hasn't lost any height but it's unnaturally thinned, giving the impression of a long-term dungeon inhabitant who has been drawn on the rack. Then I toss it aside and fly back into the ship.
The surviving soldiers are picking themselves up and I use constructs to grab onto the armour and pull, tearing it from their bodies and leaving them in scraps and their under suits.
Still need information.
"Assimilate."
Orange strands leap out and are pushed back before they can touch them, the bodies of the defeated decaying to.. ash to fuel the spell.
"And neither are these."
"Sparta. I don't know what you want, but you came here to pick a fight rather than settling anywhere else." I run in the direction of the cruiser's bridge. "You won't get the choice again."
"What is one more titan to the Bane of Titans?"
"If that's how you want it."
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