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Post by ippo on Aug 30, 2009 3:25:35 GMT -5
It didn't show behind those thick goggles of his, but Dominic's gaze was narrowing along with Maya's. Those sounds outside the window were beginning to irk him, and before it'd finally dawned on him, Maya was at the window investigating the scene. Still a bit out of it, he turned his goggles up, following her to the window.
"Maya? What is it?" He'd only just barely finished his question before she already made for the door, Tonk plopped messily onto the couch where she sat just a moment ago. "Maya!" Too late. For a cleric, that girl is rather quick on her feet. Maybe she was a rogue in a past life. Philosophy later, as he turned around to get a look at the city below.
Sacro was in flames.
Civilians were fleeing in every direction, the armed troops were converging into the center of the city. Without warning, black specks had spread from the pyre like flies off a piece of meat, clearing through lines of troops. Dom's gaze narrowed. Though he'd never moved from the spot, he was already well in action.
"Apollo!" he called to seemingly nowhere, his eyes still glued to the city below. "Wake up, Apollo! This isn't a drill!"
While Tonk was frantically darting around the room, picking up odd gadgets and numerous vials of multi-colored potions and throwing them into a satchel, lumbering, heavy footsteps echoed against the floor before a door to a back room opened. Out stepped Apollo, one of Dom's grander achievements. Apollo, as it was named, was a life-sized arcane-powered construct. The bronze automaton was the size of a half-orc, perhaps, considering how it could tower over Dom. Strong and sturdy, it was his heavy lifter as well as, on rare occasions, a heavy hitter.
Apollo shuffled towards Dom's back, picking up the occasional item as it walked past, including his coat and his satchel (which Tonk had hopped into just before Apollo picked it up), and held them out for Dom, which he put on with due haste. Throwing his coat on and slinging his satchel over his shoulder, he whirled about and made a beeline for the door in a very brisk, deliberate powerwalk. Apollo shuffled close behind him, keeping pace easily.
"Right, ladies and gentlemen," Torellion muttered to himself. "It's showtime."
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Post by Cachot Maître on Aug 30, 2009 15:23:24 GMT -5
Lips are turning blue, A kiss that can't renew. "By the Gods..." The damage was far worse than she originally thought. Already running down the crowded streets, Maya deftly maneuvered around scurrying citizens and soldiers alike. Ahead of her were two men, one, dressed in the colors of Sacro, the other, dressed with only his rotting, blood stained flesh. With a angry groan, she drew her sword, but kept her pace. Despite visiting Dom for a friendly chitchat, Maya had brought her short sword and dagger with her, just as she did every other day. She felt naked without her blades at her side. Which Dom remarked as ironic in several ways.
With a quick step and a slice, the ghoul's head was lobbed clean off, as it was focusing purely on the soldier in front of it. The soldier was a little startled by the assistance as well, but, quickly shouted a thank you to the cleric, but she was already far ahead, picking up the pace towards the Temple of Pelor. The alarm was sounding, which was to signal all available clerics to the temple for objective briefing, and to protect the temple at all costs. For if the supposed home of Pelor were to fall, many lights would dim in the hearts of his people. She only hoped that she wasn't too late.
"Maya! It's about time you showed up! Come quickly, there's much to discuss, and, you've missed even more." Aum Specnoe. By far the greatest cleric in all of Sacro, and the high priest of Pelor. In many ways, Maya respected him. He was like a mentor to her, a father after her adopted father. He was the one who took her into the temple, and he was the one who always assisted her during her studies. "What's our situation?" She settled down to a brisk jog to join near Aum's side. He was never one to hurry, no matter how urgent the situation was. He enjoyed conserving his energy for battle.
"Over seventy wounded so far, and nearly triple that dead, raised, and killing their own families." Aum shook his head. Though he was no stranger to war, something like this was brand new to him. "I've heard of the undead attacking villages before, but one of the holy cities? How did they even get in...?" All deities protected several cities, villages, and even small caves. However, there was one place were it was said that a deity resided in. Sacro was where Pelor resided in, which gave Sacro the title of "holy city", just like any other main city of a deity. "I don't know. Reports from the front claim they were summoned in from an inside source, but, we're still trying to figure out what. We have wizards scanning the city for any portals, but, so far they haven't found anything." Maya nodded, understanding the full importance of this attack. If the temple were to fall, Pelor's light would be significantly dimmed, but why here? Why Pelor? Why now?
Do you think you're better than me? Do you want to kill me, or befriend me? There she stood, in front of the temple, several scores of undead approaching as fast as their legs could carry them. With a wave of her hand, she mutters an incantation. Then, acrid orange fumes hiss up from beneath the ground, and then suddenly ignite in a thundering detonation. The wall separating her from the clerics inside was now rubble, and she casually made her way into the temple, her army close behind.
Two clerics responded to the sound, and began making prayers to Pelor to use their own spells. Misery counted with a quick incantation, and calls up a churning cyclone from the nether planes. It surrounds the two clerics, battering them with deafening flaps of thunder and hurling them a short distance into one of the walls, knocking each unconscious, to be fed to the approaching ghouls.
Pathetic, all of them. It was amusing and disgusting at the same time how they all clung to their precious god. It would be even more amusing to see them all scatter in fear as the home of their worship was destroyed. At this thought, she rose he hand high into the air, and the undead army stopped and waiting outside of the temple. Then, swooping her arm down, they charged in with a terrible sound, breaking everything they could get their rotting hands on, and killing everyone in their way.
She followed their path of slaughter, to end up at the main doors of the temple. Inside, awaited whatever clerics were left, and the alter of Pelor. Outside, awaited death. "I want everyone inside this room killed. Do not raise them, for they are of no use to our goddess. Leave the high priest to me." She ordered, and they obeyed. Knocking down the massive doors and flooding into the room, they slaughtered the clerics, overwhelming them with their sheer numbers.
There was her prize, the alter, and resting atop it was a small golden idol. To think, that was the only source of Pelor's power over this city. A golden statue, guarded by a score of holy men. It seemed almost too easy. But then again, they had Grona on their side. With a wave of her hand, she signaled for the remaining clerics to be killed, then, for the ghouls to destroy the rest of the city. Removing a scroll from her robe, she whispered the long incantation, then threw the scroll onto the holy relic, watching with a sinister glee in her eye as it burst into flames.
"Pelor's Light has been dimmed. The dawn of a new age is upon us all."
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Post by ippo on Aug 31, 2009 19:30:52 GMT -5
"Yes! Yeeees! Cower, miserable peons of light! This city is nothing before us!"
On one of the upper levels of the city, the would-be cultists had apparently spread out to sow general discord and mayhem across Sacro. Torches were taken to kiosks and stands, blades and daggers were swung with reckless abandon, an occasional spell flew this way or that. They weren't the most orderly bunch, probably only given orders to "go nuts" or something. The crowds of civilians were smart enough to scatter as the cultists wandered down the street, a duo all decked out in identical black hoods and robes with occasional red markings for design.
On they wandered, catching the occasional civilian and rending him or her before they got away. Their pace was slow and deliberate, though then again, so was some bald guy who paced towards them, against the flow of fleeing citizens. He had a satchel over his shoulder, opaque sunglasses over his eyes and a cane in his right hand, even if it looked like he didn't have a limp. Who was this guy, to wander with such audacity towards his doom? No matter. Any life is a life towards Grona, and that was enough for them. The street had emptied behind the lanky bald guy, though there was an odd chatter about them. If those victims they'd caught earlier weren't enough, then this chromedome would serve as another example to any who cross them. The hooded duo stepped forward, brandishing their own respective blades and coming barely within arm's reach.
"Are you audacious or simply a fool?" one of them started, holding his dagger in front of him. "You walk towards your grave! This city will fall before us, and you will be nothing more than another body in the streets! You cannot hope to--"
"OH, LOOK!" the bald man suddenly bellowed, giving the two cultists a jump. "A SILVER!"
With no regard for the two hoods, the bald man bent forward, as if reaching for a coin on the ground. As he leaned forward, something behind him rose up. Something brown and massive, what looked like a giant rose out of nowhere, arm cocked back. Thoroughly thrown off guard, one of the cultists dropped his sword with a clatter against the cobblestone. As it did, the mammoth of a figure came forward, swinging a mighty right punch into the head of said cultist. With a sickening crack, he hit the ground hard, his head bouncing off the ground. Before the other had a chance to even get his feet going, the iron behemoth had swung around with the same arm, throwing its weight behind a powerful backfist. It smashed the opposite cultist's side and separated his feet from terra firma, the body sailing across the road into an empty stand. Wood splintered and cracked, a pair of legs the only visible sign of a knocked-out raider.
As the automaton stood upright, so too did the bald man, who was actually thumbing a silver piece between his fingers, inspecting the detail. "Nice," he remarked before flicking the coin and pocketing it, shuffling down the street towards the city center as though completely unaware of what transpired. The construct shuffled faithfully behind him.
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