12-17-2017, 01:30 AM
(This post was last modified: 12-25-2017, 12:33 PM by King Ghidorah.)
The storm is over by the time I leave Harnburg valley, though the sky remains bruised and angry. The road North has become a broad quagmire of grasping mud and deep, stagnant puddles in the aftermath of the recent tempest. The grasslands and hills are silent, battered down the by the pounding rain. The intermittent forests appear ragged, marred by tossled branches, fallen trees, and the vibrant yellows and whites of broken, living wood.
The path is deserted, saving an abandoned wagon half-sunken in the mud, but every isolated farmstead I pass is buzzing with activity as the pathetic occupants set about assessing and repairing the damage to their intricate-but-meaningless lives: re-thatching rooftops, mending fences and clearing debris from their fields.
Every sign of my previous passage along this road has been erased: consumed by time, growth, scavengers, and the weather.
All of this irritates me. Such mild destruction is fleeting - superficial. There will be a recovery, and life here will go on, as though the storm had never happened. It's so depressing that it squelches any satisfaction I might have taken from blasting the landscape as I travel, highlighting my own excruciating inability to leave any permanent scars with my limited powers.
Cutting across higher ground whenever possible in order to avoid slogging through the muck, I make good time, but after an entire day's travel through such lush countryside without incinerating anything I just can't take it anymore. I veer from my course and set off across a rolling grassy plain towards a hovel in the middle-distance. Two human figures are patching the roof, and another is doing something complicated with a horse in a nearby field. Even from this far away, there's a certain resemblance - a family.
Here at least, is a hole I can leave in the world. Though I'm on a schedule, and unable to take as much time as I'd like, the emotional ties between my soon-to-be victims should add ruinous facets to this experience that I haven't yet had the opportunity to explore. I smile, baring my fangs in eager anticipation - and a blast of crackling prismatic energy explodes in my face!
The world blinks out, and then comes screaming back. Starbursts of color blot out my vision and a droning whine fills my ears. Something feels wet against my back, and it takes me a moment to realize that I'm lying on the ground, and not entirely sure how I got there. As my eyes begin to clear and the fact that I've just been attacked finally filters through the static afflicting my thoughts, raising a tide of world-shaking anger at the sheer audacity, a familiar voice echoes in my brain.
"I warned you, Ghidorah. I'd hoped it wouldn't come to this; You were given every opportunity to leave this 'verse in peace, but you just won't stop."
Mothra.
The path is deserted, saving an abandoned wagon half-sunken in the mud, but every isolated farmstead I pass is buzzing with activity as the pathetic occupants set about assessing and repairing the damage to their intricate-but-meaningless lives: re-thatching rooftops, mending fences and clearing debris from their fields.
Every sign of my previous passage along this road has been erased: consumed by time, growth, scavengers, and the weather.
All of this irritates me. Such mild destruction is fleeting - superficial. There will be a recovery, and life here will go on, as though the storm had never happened. It's so depressing that it squelches any satisfaction I might have taken from blasting the landscape as I travel, highlighting my own excruciating inability to leave any permanent scars with my limited powers.
Cutting across higher ground whenever possible in order to avoid slogging through the muck, I make good time, but after an entire day's travel through such lush countryside without incinerating anything I just can't take it anymore. I veer from my course and set off across a rolling grassy plain towards a hovel in the middle-distance. Two human figures are patching the roof, and another is doing something complicated with a horse in a nearby field. Even from this far away, there's a certain resemblance - a family.
Here at least, is a hole I can leave in the world. Though I'm on a schedule, and unable to take as much time as I'd like, the emotional ties between my soon-to-be victims should add ruinous facets to this experience that I haven't yet had the opportunity to explore. I smile, baring my fangs in eager anticipation - and a blast of crackling prismatic energy explodes in my face!
The world blinks out, and then comes screaming back. Starbursts of color blot out my vision and a droning whine fills my ears. Something feels wet against my back, and it takes me a moment to realize that I'm lying on the ground, and not entirely sure how I got there. As my eyes begin to clear and the fact that I've just been attacked finally filters through the static afflicting my thoughts, raising a tide of world-shaking anger at the sheer audacity, a familiar voice echoes in my brain.
"I warned you, Ghidorah. I'd hoped it wouldn't come to this; You were given every opportunity to leave this 'verse in peace, but you just won't stop."
Mothra.