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The pain was unbearable. Fantassy stared at his charred hand as it tried to cradle his broken sword arm. It looked like a brittle dead tree branch, oozing brown sap. The sword arm was a misshapen swollen mass that was starting to turn blue. He had clearly lost his mind since his sword seemed to be talking to him.
Mr Kleesh'ay, this is Agent Erikson of the Bureau of Progressive Fantasy speaking
"Aaaaaaaarrrrrrrgggggghhhhhhhhhhhhh"
Pull yourself together, you miserable wretch and listen to me
"Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh"
I said shut up that screaming and do as I say!
"Shhhhhvvvaaaaaaarrrrrggggggghhhh………..hic"
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In the Farm-Boy-U-Like Ltd executive box, high in the arena where money buys almost guaranteed spectator survival, Fantassy's sponsors sat back in relief.
"For a moment there, I thought the sword was going to go off and we'd be for it" said the man. "Popcorn?" He got to his feet and headed for the door then stopped dead, a shadowy figure materialising in his path. Falling back with his hands shielding his head, he fell to his knees,
"It's not our fault! We didn't know! Forgive us!" he blurted.
Ignoring the man, the shadowy figure casually stepped around him and settled into one of the deep cushioned seats, revealing himself as an elderly man. Drawing laconically on a cigarette he blew out the smoke and looked down to the charred figure of Fantassy Kleesh'ay on the floor of the arena. A long and disappointed sigh seeped from his lips as his gaze flicked to the now standing female Farm-Boy-U-Like Ltd employee.
"What is your mission?" he asked quietly.
The woman shifted uncomfortably on her feet and cleared her throat before replying. "My mission, on behalf of the Fantasy World Domination Committee, is to eliminate novel opponents that attempt to…er……reinvigorate the genre of fantasy, S-s-sir."
The old man nodded slowly, drawing deeply again on his cigarette.
"I don't see much shrimp on the barbeque here. Do you?" he asked.
Eyes twitching nervously between the ashy surface of the arena and the face of the old man, the woman mutely shook her head.
"Would you like to tell me about the sabotage of a clone that my organisation has effectively used in over 200 fantasy stories to save the world in an uninspiring yet highly efficient fashion?" he drawled menacingly, leaning forward in his seat and baring coffee stained teeth.
Chewing her lip, the woman looked at her feet.
"If the boy survives this charring, I expect you to fix this or it's the Jordan treatment for you," he said. Rising from the chair he dusted cigarette ash from his clothes and finished, "I assume you enjoy braiding hair?"
The woman's eyes widened and she stammered, "Y-y-y-yes, Chairman Eddings. I-I-I mean no, Chairman Eddings. I-I-I-I understand".
A cold smile drew across the wrinkled face and he breathed out a lungful of smoke that expanded to fill the room. When it dissipated, he was gone and her companion was a lifeless corpse on the floor.
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The giant mechanoid shrimp was lurching around the blasted centre of the arena, the sounds of an argument emanating from deep within. The screaming from Fantassy abruptly stopped and the absence of the sound was deafening after those tortured wails. The Mansplitter wheeled to face the boy again. He slowly rose to his feet, burned flesh making wet splitting noises as his exposed bone and sinews straightened. The sword dangled loosely at his side, the only unmarred part of the boys devastated body was the hand gripping the sword hilt. Was he grinning or was it just the rictus effect of the burns ravaging his now featureless face?
The sword sprang to life, Fantassy's body flopping like a ragdoll in its wake, red brown sticky streaks marking the spots where his melted flesh touched the floor. The shrimp fired its eye lasers again. The sword twitched to flick the boys body out of the way, an outflung leg was nicked by the beams and the tortured screaming began again. The shrimp skittered around the arena floor, pursued by the sword wielding the boy behind it. The frequency of bursts from the eye lasers increased but still they could not do lasting damage to their target. No longer constrained by the rigid skeleton of the intact human arm, the sword was free to swing as wildly as it wished but it could not get through the barrage of laser beams or snapping claws to land a hit on the armoured hull. The shrimp scuttled backwards, giving itself time and space to fire up the eye lasers to full intensity for one last burst. The sword and the boy grew still in the arena as a hum emerged from the mechanoid, the intensity of the crimson light increasing. Fantassy's breath wheezed out in sodden gasps between harrowing screams. Finally, two brilliantly bright scarlet beams arced towards Fantassy's intact hand. The sword lurched up, bending the broken arm in so many directions at once that some people in the crowd threw up. The shrieking reached epic proportions as the blade of the sword met the twin beams and Fantassy's arm came off at the elbow with a wet pop. This time the sword had judged the angle perfectly and the blade deflected the beams back at the head of the landship Mansplitter. There was an explosion of crimson light and a cloud of dust billowed up into the arena, obscuring the ravaged opponents from view. The screaming had stopped.
This post has been edited by Mezla PigDog: 16 March 2009 - 07:47 PM