[11+9] vs. [7+5]/[14+5][6+5] "You are addressing me wrong. No longer am I a broken child for you to bully--" You tilt your head to one side. "BOW." Your voice echoes through the city. One of the colossi shudders, before lowering its 'head' to the ground. The other slams its face into the plaza with such violence that debris and dust rise from the masonry. The 'plague lord' shivers, curling in on itself as it tries to fight your influence. Were it here in the flesh, no doubt, it would put up more of struggle, but the projection obeys.
You hover closer, "I am the empress of this world. No more negotiation. No more compromise. Worship me as your goddess. Serve me. Or die."
[29+5] vs. [20+5] It struggles to rise, struggles to retort. It convulses, its silicon wings crumpling and reforming as it attempts to control itself. You assert your pressure, your mind, your willpower. The colossi twitch as blood begins to drip from your nose.
[22/29] vs. [8/13] Your iron halo splits apart. You twist the edges into cruel blades, dragging iron molecules against one another until they turn into blurs of razor sharpness. You slam these into the colossi. Chunks of infected blood and flesh fly as you saw your way through their shells and their sinews. They scream in static--
[25/9] vs. [19/6] --but only until you use savage spears of iron to seal their mouths shut.
[24/29] vs. [20/16] They struggle against you. One even succeeds in leveraging itself free of your willpower--but it finds no freedom. The earth opens up, and great spikes of silicon and iron twist into their flesh, sprouting right through and keeping them pinned --...like butterflies on a board.
You don't even look down at the colossi as you finish sawing their heads off. Hydrogen would have been cleaner. Quicker, but you relish the black ooze that pours from their twitching trunks-- "Tell me, vermin. Why shouldn't I kill you right now?"
We are-- powerful--
Something feels heavy in your pocket, and you reach into it with your free hand -- using a twist of light to hold a silencing finger to the Plague Lord. A small gold and rusted silver coin sits heavy in your palm. You blink down at it, then, turn back to the projection. "I'll make a deal with you, beast. If this lands on silver, I will bow. I will subordinate myself to you for good or ill and join you. If it lands on gold-- I will burn you from this world until you bow. Until you worship. Deal?"
The Projection gives a faint twist of its head -- in a nod.
You flip the coin.
Gold.
Again.
Gold.
And again.
Gold.
Gold.
Gold.
"Shame. Two more?"
Gold.
Gold.
[11+9 vs 6+5] With a burst of flames you burn away the Projection. Mentally. Physically. You leave not but a glassed avenue. You drift down to your followers, and Eric approaches, food in hand. You pop the nanofeast into your mouth and swallow. Instantly your rumbling stomach is filled as carbohydrates and fat are manufactured within you.
"Mother Pheonix that was--"
"Deus Vult.
"W-what?"
"I will it. Remember that, Eric. It's an old tongue -- it means God Wills it. It means I will it."
The other Crusaders lower themselves to their knees. Eric gives you a glance-- and sinks into the bloody street in a kneel. His cutter flares to life, and he bows with it lit. "Deus Vult." You rest a hand on Eric's helmeted head, looking over your ichor-stained, devout ...fanatical maniacs.. The Skarinite camera crew looks over the devastation, taking sweeping shots of the bound and butchered Colossi. The Void Marine shifts -- uncomfortable? You fix it with your gaze-- "Deus Vult." A feminine voice chimes from within the powered armor.
I tire of this game. How shall I end it? A rain of acid until this city is no more? Should I bring forth a star? Devour this city with the very earth? Or make the gutters run with the blood of the Plague and erect a monument to our Line from the iron?
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Topic: McCreary's Planet -- (FINISHED) (Read 224084 times)