witchesreign | ALL-GAME EVENT: The Assault on Balamb

[2100. Balamb has settled into position some time ago, and life continues on as normal. Galbadia Garden has mobilized, in that it's broken free of its moorings and converted to aerial mode, but the structure remains otherwise motionless. The strategy of preventing their antagonist from moving seems to be working just fine --]

[Without warning, alarm, or seeming plausibility, a sword of perhaps thirty stories height and sufficient width to do the job transfixes the mobile mercenary facility. The point plunges through the roof, just barely missing the cockpit, but smashing through a weapons classroom on the second floor and the cafeteria on the first before bursting out the bottom of the facility. It hits the ground, penetrates, and sinks who knows how far deep before friction overcomes mass. The sword stops, leaving only a profoundly deep and disquieting humming as it continues to vibrate with the force of the descent.]

[Balamb's motive engines whine and screech as the helmsman attempts to move the facility, but only a horrific rending sounds as more of the structure crumbles. All the engines can do is shove the building into the sword, not move the weapon.]

[All is horrified silence.]

[In that moment, Galbadia Garden completes the motion it had begun just as the sword descended, and strikes. By flying transport and by motorcycle jumps, troops cross the gap between the two Gardens, while on the first floor, a massive deployment tube crashes through the wall of the garage and troops pour in.]

[It's going to be one of those days.]

Threaded | Flat

[Even on the opposite side of the Garden, the tremors from the impact are violent enough that the entire library visibly shudders. All around it, the usual hush of the place is broken by the creak of shelves, the muffled thump of displaced books, the not so distant wail of struggling engines - but none of those are anything compared to the all-enveloping thrum, more of a solid presence than a noise, lasting considerably longer than the echoes of the initial thunderous crash.

Something isn't right about this. It doesn't take a genius to realise it long before the second crash and the sound of marching feet unsettlingly close by join the cacophony. But here he is anyway, holding the bookshelf in front of him mid-topple at arm's length, digging both of his heels into the floor.]

That's... no earthquake...

[Gritting his teeth, he gives the shelf one more almighty shove. It wobbles ominously for a second or two, a few more volumes sliding off of it in the process, but finally settles back onto its base. One problem down. Plenty more to go.

He steps away from it, looking around - how many people are left in here? - and raises his voice.] Is everyone okay?

[There's a group of around twelve people rushing from the cafeteria to the training center's secret area. Upon closer inspection, it's the cafeteria workers carrying the hotdog stock, and some cadets (and one or two SeeDs) protecting them.]

Don't let the enemy get the hotdogs!

no subject

just atmosphere; unlikely to reply