05-16-2017, 09:19 PM
Sans was the first to break the awkward silence.
“frisk, what did I tell you about interrupting demon-summoning rituals without permission?” he said in a complete mockery of a parental tone. It nailed him a few chuckles from the crowd of orcs around him and bought him enough time for him to get between Frisk and the army surrounding them.
Their leader stepped forward, his pupiless eyes widening in recognition.
“Sans.”
“do i know you?”
“Ulak’thuul,” the shaman said, his voice low and guttural, “it’s been a while.”
He felt an arm wrap around his own. He glanced towards Frisk, who was hiding behind his rotund frame to shield herself from the murderous glares piercing her soul. She didn’t speak, but he saw her lips move, mouthing a single sentence.
“You know him?”
He nodded; he could remember the name. It was a long time ago, and he had only talked to the orc for a minute for directions to Ambrosia; to see the same orc become something like this was strangely marvelous despite his malevolent intentions.
He looked back at Ulak’thuul. “i see you’ve been rather busy.”
The shaman nodded, smiling. “Yes. I had to curry a few favors, but in the end, I’ve got what I want.”
“Now,” he said, staring into the bonfire, “all we need is a sacrifice. A delicious sacrifice to appease the gods and give us good fortune in the coming battle at Ambrosia.” He stopped and pointed a finger at the child behind Sans.
“That child will do nicely.”
The skeleton looked around. The orcs were converging around the both of them, their tongues hanging out like dogs thirsty for water. The earth shook with the beat of the timpani’s, increasing in speed as the orcs drew closer. Sans strained to keep his smile wide through it all as his bones rattled and the dirt beneath him slid around and through his feet.
“i’m afraid this human is my sacrifice, ulak,” he said.
The orcs stopped in their tracks, confused. Ulak’thuul remained silent, glaring down at the skeleton.
“so, if you’ll excuse us,” Sans said as he turned around and pushed Frisk towards the treeline, “we’ll just get going and pretend we never saw anyth-”
The bushes directly in front of them exploded in a ball of fire. His eyes widened for the briefest of moments as the child he guarded nearly hopped into the air from shock.
Sans looked back. A prism of purple flames wavered and flickered between the fingertips of Ulak’thuul’s ring-covered hand. He closed his fist, extinguishing the flames, absorbing the fiery tendrils into his body with a snake-like hiss.
“That child knows too much. If we let her go, our plan is ruined.” Ulak’thuul raised his hand as an orc tossed a great-axe his way. He caught it with one hand.
“Give her to us.” He slammed the blunt-end of the axe down onto the ground; a quake erupted from the point of impact and almost caused the skeleton to stumble.
“Now.”
Sans did not move. He did not speak, or raise a hand, or even chuckle. He was motionless, like a statue, only infinitely quieter. His smile never wavered for a moment as he looked around for an opening in their forces. To his dismay, him and Frisk were effectively cut off from help. And he had walked a fair distance in order to find Frisk once he and Toriel had realized she had run off somewhere, so even if they shouted, it wasn’t likely they would hear them nor show up in time. And it wasn’t like there was anyone else within a few yards radius to see what was going on either.
For a moment, he considered throwing her to the wolves. It wasn’t like it would matter. Even if she died, she could always go back and start an entirely new timeline and warn everyone about what was going on beforehand. It would be weird for certain, but it was a better alternative than the outright annihilation of a city that would arise from her doing effectively nothing to stop it. That is, of course, if she wanted to stop it in the first place.
It would be so easy. Just say “okay,” turn around, walk away, and don’t look back when the screaming inevitably starts. He could probably do it without cracking. Probably.
Frisk tugged on his coat sleeve, forcing him to look at her face. Expressionless, but her rapid breathing and the strength of her grip on his arm gave away her true feelings of the situation.
It was the tug that reminded him of something he had entirely forgotten about since he entered the Omniverse: the promise.
He made a promise with Toriel to protect Frisk. He had broken it back then, but now, he was in a new timeline.
The promise wasn’t broken anymore.
With this new revelation, his mind cranked out solution after solution to the conundrum they were in. He was going to have to fight, that much was clear, but all he needed was a quick, 360-degree scope around their rapidly decreasing diameter between them and the encircling bloodthirsty orcs for him to process just how outnumbered they were. Not even Frisk could fight more than four monsters at a time. It would be suicidal to attack the whole army without an army of his own to match.
That meant he had to kill not their soldiers, but their will to keep fighting. But how?
“You are testing my patience, skeleton. Answer my question.” Ulak’thuul smashed his axe against the ground in emphasis, urging his orcs to go faster in an attempt to swipe Frisk out from under the skeleton. Sans pushed Frisk back, holding his arms out to shield her from the prying arms of the orcs.
That was it. He had to kill the head honcho.
He did his best to suppress the urge to widen his grin.
He still didn’t have a plan fully thought out yet by the time he responded. A part of him screamed for more time to think, to gain more facts, to observe more in order to obtain a better analysis of the situation and respond accordingly. Time was not on his side, however; it never had been. He was going to have to think it over as he went along.
“perhaps…” he said, halting the orcs, “we can come to an agreement?”
Ulak’thuul rubbed his chin, pondering. “And what is it that you want?” he said after a long pause.
“look, we’re at an impasse. i can tell that. sooooooooooooooooo…” he said. He took a deep breath; he hoped he wasn’t wrong in his assumptions of orc culture.
“why don’t we settle this with a traditional orc duel, you know? i stand on one end, you stand on the other, and we try to kill each other until one of us dies from heat stroke or something?”
He let the question hang in the air for a few moments. The orcs surrounding them collectively raised their eyebrows, yet within the confusion were murmurs of agreement, of excitement. Ulak’thuul glanced around at his fellow orc soldiers as the murmurs increased in volume to open discussion. He lifted his hand, silencing the crowd.
“What… are your stipulations, skeleton?”
Good, he’s in agreement. Sans sighed. “it’s just a simple duel, really. you win, you get to take frisk as your sacrifice and go have fun pillaging candy Town. i win, everyone here has to leave and never think about doing this kind of thing again, you know what I’m saying?”
The shaman smirked. “And you’re the one who will challenge me to this duel?” His words earned a fit of laughter from the orcs around him. The skeleton rolled his eyes.
“yeah. if you don’t want to cuz your scared, you can back out now and, you know, leave us alone. it’ll save us both a lot of trouble that way.”
“Never.”
The orcs cheered, the timpani’s banging away in a victory cry. Soon, the circle had reformed, only with Sans and Frisk on one end and Ulak’thuul on the other.
Sans stared ahead at nothing in particular, unblinking, unmoving. He steeled himself for the fight to come.
“frisk, what did I tell you about interrupting demon-summoning rituals without permission?” he said in a complete mockery of a parental tone. It nailed him a few chuckles from the crowd of orcs around him and bought him enough time for him to get between Frisk and the army surrounding them.
Their leader stepped forward, his pupiless eyes widening in recognition.
“Sans.”
“do i know you?”
“Ulak’thuul,” the shaman said, his voice low and guttural, “it’s been a while.”
He felt an arm wrap around his own. He glanced towards Frisk, who was hiding behind his rotund frame to shield herself from the murderous glares piercing her soul. She didn’t speak, but he saw her lips move, mouthing a single sentence.
“You know him?”
He nodded; he could remember the name. It was a long time ago, and he had only talked to the orc for a minute for directions to Ambrosia; to see the same orc become something like this was strangely marvelous despite his malevolent intentions.
He looked back at Ulak’thuul. “i see you’ve been rather busy.”
The shaman nodded, smiling. “Yes. I had to curry a few favors, but in the end, I’ve got what I want.”
“Now,” he said, staring into the bonfire, “all we need is a sacrifice. A delicious sacrifice to appease the gods and give us good fortune in the coming battle at Ambrosia.” He stopped and pointed a finger at the child behind Sans.
“That child will do nicely.”
The skeleton looked around. The orcs were converging around the both of them, their tongues hanging out like dogs thirsty for water. The earth shook with the beat of the timpani’s, increasing in speed as the orcs drew closer. Sans strained to keep his smile wide through it all as his bones rattled and the dirt beneath him slid around and through his feet.
“i’m afraid this human is my sacrifice, ulak,” he said.
The orcs stopped in their tracks, confused. Ulak’thuul remained silent, glaring down at the skeleton.
“so, if you’ll excuse us,” Sans said as he turned around and pushed Frisk towards the treeline, “we’ll just get going and pretend we never saw anyth-”
The bushes directly in front of them exploded in a ball of fire. His eyes widened for the briefest of moments as the child he guarded nearly hopped into the air from shock.
Sans looked back. A prism of purple flames wavered and flickered between the fingertips of Ulak’thuul’s ring-covered hand. He closed his fist, extinguishing the flames, absorbing the fiery tendrils into his body with a snake-like hiss.
“That child knows too much. If we let her go, our plan is ruined.” Ulak’thuul raised his hand as an orc tossed a great-axe his way. He caught it with one hand.
“Give her to us.” He slammed the blunt-end of the axe down onto the ground; a quake erupted from the point of impact and almost caused the skeleton to stumble.
“Now.”
Sans did not move. He did not speak, or raise a hand, or even chuckle. He was motionless, like a statue, only infinitely quieter. His smile never wavered for a moment as he looked around for an opening in their forces. To his dismay, him and Frisk were effectively cut off from help. And he had walked a fair distance in order to find Frisk once he and Toriel had realized she had run off somewhere, so even if they shouted, it wasn’t likely they would hear them nor show up in time. And it wasn’t like there was anyone else within a few yards radius to see what was going on either.
For a moment, he considered throwing her to the wolves. It wasn’t like it would matter. Even if she died, she could always go back and start an entirely new timeline and warn everyone about what was going on beforehand. It would be weird for certain, but it was a better alternative than the outright annihilation of a city that would arise from her doing effectively nothing to stop it. That is, of course, if she wanted to stop it in the first place.
It would be so easy. Just say “okay,” turn around, walk away, and don’t look back when the screaming inevitably starts. He could probably do it without cracking. Probably.
Frisk tugged on his coat sleeve, forcing him to look at her face. Expressionless, but her rapid breathing and the strength of her grip on his arm gave away her true feelings of the situation.
It was the tug that reminded him of something he had entirely forgotten about since he entered the Omniverse: the promise.
He made a promise with Toriel to protect Frisk. He had broken it back then, but now, he was in a new timeline.
The promise wasn’t broken anymore.
With this new revelation, his mind cranked out solution after solution to the conundrum they were in. He was going to have to fight, that much was clear, but all he needed was a quick, 360-degree scope around their rapidly decreasing diameter between them and the encircling bloodthirsty orcs for him to process just how outnumbered they were. Not even Frisk could fight more than four monsters at a time. It would be suicidal to attack the whole army without an army of his own to match.
That meant he had to kill not their soldiers, but their will to keep fighting. But how?
“You are testing my patience, skeleton. Answer my question.” Ulak’thuul smashed his axe against the ground in emphasis, urging his orcs to go faster in an attempt to swipe Frisk out from under the skeleton. Sans pushed Frisk back, holding his arms out to shield her from the prying arms of the orcs.
That was it. He had to kill the head honcho.
He did his best to suppress the urge to widen his grin.
He still didn’t have a plan fully thought out yet by the time he responded. A part of him screamed for more time to think, to gain more facts, to observe more in order to obtain a better analysis of the situation and respond accordingly. Time was not on his side, however; it never had been. He was going to have to think it over as he went along.
“perhaps…” he said, halting the orcs, “we can come to an agreement?”
Ulak’thuul rubbed his chin, pondering. “And what is it that you want?” he said after a long pause.
“look, we’re at an impasse. i can tell that. sooooooooooooooooo…” he said. He took a deep breath; he hoped he wasn’t wrong in his assumptions of orc culture.
“why don’t we settle this with a traditional orc duel, you know? i stand on one end, you stand on the other, and we try to kill each other until one of us dies from heat stroke or something?”
He let the question hang in the air for a few moments. The orcs surrounding them collectively raised their eyebrows, yet within the confusion were murmurs of agreement, of excitement. Ulak’thuul glanced around at his fellow orc soldiers as the murmurs increased in volume to open discussion. He lifted his hand, silencing the crowd.
“What… are your stipulations, skeleton?”
Good, he’s in agreement. Sans sighed. “it’s just a simple duel, really. you win, you get to take frisk as your sacrifice and go have fun pillaging candy Town. i win, everyone here has to leave and never think about doing this kind of thing again, you know what I’m saying?”
The shaman smirked. “And you’re the one who will challenge me to this duel?” His words earned a fit of laughter from the orcs around him. The skeleton rolled his eyes.
“yeah. if you don’t want to cuz your scared, you can back out now and, you know, leave us alone. it’ll save us both a lot of trouble that way.”
“Never.”
The orcs cheered, the timpani’s banging away in a victory cry. Soon, the circle had reformed, only with Sans and Frisk on one end and Ulak’thuul on the other.
Sans stared ahead at nothing in particular, unblinking, unmoving. He steeled himself for the fight to come.
![[Image: sanssig.png]](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/369919416432984079/371386052931485708/sanssig.png)
i may be all alone
but i'm here to tell ya honey
that i'm bad to the bone
B-B-B-Bad to the bone
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