Follow TV Tropes


Quotes / Shapeshifter Showdown

Go To

The Asylum-God transmogrifies into a metal cloud. The cloud becomes a harp of molten glass. The glass sprouts feathers, sprouts teeth, extends luminous claws... and tries to kill the thing that cannot die. The spectators gape... or hide their faces. Stone becomes wood, becomes gas, becomes butterflies, this place becomes that place... This is how it ends.

Choronzon: I am a dire wolf, prey-stalking, lethal prowler.
Morpheus: I am a hunter, horse-mounted, wolf-stabbing.
Choronzon: I am a horsefly, horse-stinging, hunter-throwing.
Morpheus: I am a spider, fly-consuming, eight-legged.
Choronzon: I am a snake, spider-devouring, poison-toothed.
Morpheus: I am an ox, snake-crushing, heavy-footed.
Choronzon: I am an anthrax butcher bacterium, warm-life destroying.
Morpheus: I am a world, space-floating, life-nurturing.
Choronzon: I am a nova, all-exploding... planet cremating.
Morpheus: I am the universe, all things encompassing, all life embracing.
Choronzon: I am Anti-Life, the Beast of Judgement. I am the dark at the end of everything, the end of universes, gods, worlds... of everything.
Morpheus: I am hope.
The Sandman: A Hope In Hell

The speed of the changes was astonishing, and the watching children gasped with wonder, not daring to blink in case they missed the next new shape. Before them, the figure of Master Gibble shifted endlessly, yet Finnen was not defeated. Shape for shape, he matched the Great Grand Wergle Master until the list of simple forms was completed and the specialist section of the tournament commenced. At once, Master Gibble became a cream-coloured ferret, but Finnen expertly eclipsed he move by wergling into a green-and-yellow frog. The ferret vanished and in its place was a newt, peppered with dark spots. Finnen's frog leaped over the newt's head, but when he landed, he had become a lanky-legged leveret that hopped madly about the platform, taunting the newt with an impudent jig.

The lion was gone. Below the cave all of a sudden stood a high grove of trees, black in the winter sunshine. The tiger, checking himself in midleap just before he entered the shadow of trees, caught fire in the air, became a tongue of flame lashing out at the dry black branches...
But where the trees had stood, a sudden cataract leaped from the hillside, an arch of silvery crashing water, thundering down upon the fire. But the fire was gone...
For just a moment before the fisherman's staring eyes, two hills rose - the green one he knew, and a new one, a bare, brown hillock ready to drink up the rushing waterfall. That passed so quickly it made Birt blink, and after blinking he blinked again and moaned, for what he saw now was a great deal worse. Where the cataract had been there hovered a dragon. Black wings darkened all the hill, steel claws reached groping, and from the dark, scaly, gaping lips fire and steam shot out. Beneath the monstrous creature stood Blackbeard, laughing. "Take any shape you please, little Mr. Underhill!" he taunted. "I can match you."

Impossible Man: My Galactus... beats your Watcher, Warlock...
Warlock: Does not!
Impossible Man: Does too!
Assorted civilians: RUN AWAY!!!
New Mutants Annual #3

The barking of a greyhound made his fur stand on end. It was distant still, but quickly gaining ground - with a nose to follow his scent and legs that could match his speed.
Time to trade overland speed for underwater propulsion. He dove into the stream, assuming the form of a fish, which felt so familiar to him now that he wasted no time in joining the nearest school. He felt safe among their number - until an otter bitch dived in among them, startling fish who broke to the left and right of him, leaving him as the sole target for the mighty mammal swiping at his tail. Thus, with only one option left to him, Gwion raced to the surface and leapt out, sprouting the swings of a bird as he took to the sky.
But Keridwen was better at this game of cat and mouse than Gwion ever was, and it wasn't long before he felt the sharp talons of a hawk striking at his feathered back.
This Present Past, by Traci Harding

Visser One completed his morph. It wasn’t one I recognized, but it was monstrous. He was fifteen, twenty feet tall. Almost as tall as me! His arms and hands dragged the ground like a gorilla’s. His skin looked reptilian, weeping and seeping some kind of acid poison.
My jaw racheted open and the sound that came out was so loud it shook the walls. The pain was unreal. Acid penetrating, eating my flesh! But by the time the scream was over, the pain had already gone. My skin had morphed to meet the immediate need! I was covered with thick, scaly plates like an alligator.
Alligator! The moment the image flashed into my mind, I felt my snout stretch out, out, out. A split second later I fell forward to the ground. Landed on short, sturdy alligator legs. Instantaneous morph! In less than a second.
Animorphs #48: The Return

Example of: