07-25-2017, 12:06 PM
Blizzardman was having a bad day. His beloved Ski-Lodge, constructed to his exacting specifications for the combined purposes of winter-time rest and relaxation and darkchip manufacturing, was in flames. His tasteful, cheerfully-adorned orange-and-white chassis had a sparking hole in it, leaking a whispy cloud of purple miasma, as well as many terrible nicks, notches, scorchmarks and scuffs. Worst of all, he'd lost a ski!
Fortunately, for the moment the evil icon of alpine fun had the upper hand, and the he took full advantage of that. His arm whirred and clicked, returning to its former shape in series of minute, abrupt mechanical actions as the spent darkchip was ejected, steaming when it hit the snow. At the same time, a fresh green ski emerged from the sole of its foot, unfolding nigh-instantly.
Keldor and Weiss rushed to the attack, the warlock hanging back to provide magical fire-support as the masked huntress closed the distance.
It didn't go well.
With no warning save for a sudden near-silent hiss of titanium-runners on snow, they were clotheslined by the outstretched beefy arms of a pair of snowboarding yetis, the massive simian forms covered by crisp, orange designer wind-breakers and their eyes hidden by glare-reducing black goggles. One of them had a boombox held to one ear, comically small in its monstrous grasp. As Keldor went face-first into the snow, it pulled into a tight braking turn and reached across its body to crank the volume, blaring board-punk tunes across the slopes at a volume that was perhaps unwise in a potential avalanche-zone.
All around the liberators, more darkspawn monsters flashed past on boards and skis, emerging from behind the burning ski-lodge and doing their very best to run the Primes down as they lay prone, or at least score a potshot as they passed. Some braked, as the yeti's had, and ran back up the slope - whether intent on joining the fray or for another go-around on the hill it was too early to tell - while others simply continued down the mountain, disappearing into the distant haze far below.
As the liberators began to rise, Blizzardman raised his hands, and a mechanical, buzzing cackle echoing from its voicebox. Its eyes turned from yellow to deep crimson red, making him considerably less cute. He twirled his ski-poles, and rocketed uphill on one foot, the other ski raised awkwardly for a devastating ramming-attack.
"I'll show you punks who rules these slopes! LET'S GET 'EM BOYS!"
The swirling red sky darkened as the wind kicked up, and violet snow began to fall.
Fortunately, for the moment the evil icon of alpine fun had the upper hand, and the he took full advantage of that. His arm whirred and clicked, returning to its former shape in series of minute, abrupt mechanical actions as the spent darkchip was ejected, steaming when it hit the snow. At the same time, a fresh green ski emerged from the sole of its foot, unfolding nigh-instantly.
Keldor and Weiss rushed to the attack, the warlock hanging back to provide magical fire-support as the masked huntress closed the distance.
It didn't go well.
With no warning save for a sudden near-silent hiss of titanium-runners on snow, they were clotheslined by the outstretched beefy arms of a pair of snowboarding yetis, the massive simian forms covered by crisp, orange designer wind-breakers and their eyes hidden by glare-reducing black goggles. One of them had a boombox held to one ear, comically small in its monstrous grasp. As Keldor went face-first into the snow, it pulled into a tight braking turn and reached across its body to crank the volume, blaring board-punk tunes across the slopes at a volume that was perhaps unwise in a potential avalanche-zone.
All around the liberators, more darkspawn monsters flashed past on boards and skis, emerging from behind the burning ski-lodge and doing their very best to run the Primes down as they lay prone, or at least score a potshot as they passed. Some braked, as the yeti's had, and ran back up the slope - whether intent on joining the fray or for another go-around on the hill it was too early to tell - while others simply continued down the mountain, disappearing into the distant haze far below.
As the liberators began to rise, Blizzardman raised his hands, and a mechanical, buzzing cackle echoing from its voicebox. Its eyes turned from yellow to deep crimson red, making him considerably less cute. He twirled his ski-poles, and rocketed uphill on one foot, the other ski raised awkwardly for a devastating ramming-attack.
"I'll show you punks who rules these slopes! LET'S GET 'EM BOYS!"
The swirling red sky darkened as the wind kicked up, and violet snow began to fall.
Quote:The battle rages on! Just like before, you have one week and one post of 1200 words each. Some of Blizzard Man's cronies have joined the fray to further complicate matters, but you can fend them off! ....right?