Re: The Cycle
Posted: Thu Aug 19, 2010 4:00 am
The goddess of the elves gave a delicate roll of her wrist, prompting the holy couple to proceed as they would. The pair bowed and turned, beckoning with some small irritation at those still recovering to hurry at their assigned tasks. Eventually order in the proceedings fell into place, and two groups were ushered before the roots of The Old Giant. One group fell immediately to their knees, heads bowed. The other was forced to kneel by the sizable and well armed elven guards about them.
The first group was comprised of elves, a half dozen male and female each, and every one of them a figure of idealized physical beauty. They were devoid of clothing, to better show off the perfect form of their limbs and body. Their flesh gleamed, flawless and free of any dirt or grim. Their hair shone, and was bound up in intricate patterns. They were the absolute best of elven breeding.
The other group was a mismash of random beings, slaves gathered in war and raids. A trio of humans, male and two females. A pair of orc, both female. A wood nymph, and a male troll. They too had been freed of their garb, but no other care given them, and they seemed misshapen and deformed compared to the perfection of the elves, save for the nymph who despite the dirt in her hair and grim on her skin, still seemed only slightly lessened.
The priest and priestess turned to their goddess, to see how she might accept this gifts, and in what capacity.
(I'll leave this one open. Choose how and in what way to accept your gifts.)
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The Obelisk shone suddenly, like steel fresh from the forge, and the light that fell on the city blotted out even the fury of the lightning above. All at once, the city was cleansed of those in doubt, their bodies engulfed by sudden flame. They burned slowly, and the flames ate away at their flesh without robbing them of breath or of life until nothing remained by ash. The screams echoed through the streets as the damned writhed and flailed, and their throes of agony only fed the flames that consumed them.
When at last the screams ended and the flames died, the city fell into utter silence. Every face was pressed to the ground, or stared lifelessly into the sky. Even the Council had fallen still, and feared to speak even to offer praise or promises of loyalty. They waited with held breath as they felt the souls of the deceased stir, and the will of their god reached for the newly freed spirits.
(What shall you do with the souls of the slain? Same choices that Tyyr had)
The first group was comprised of elves, a half dozen male and female each, and every one of them a figure of idealized physical beauty. They were devoid of clothing, to better show off the perfect form of their limbs and body. Their flesh gleamed, flawless and free of any dirt or grim. Their hair shone, and was bound up in intricate patterns. They were the absolute best of elven breeding.
The other group was a mismash of random beings, slaves gathered in war and raids. A trio of humans, male and two females. A pair of orc, both female. A wood nymph, and a male troll. They too had been freed of their garb, but no other care given them, and they seemed misshapen and deformed compared to the perfection of the elves, save for the nymph who despite the dirt in her hair and grim on her skin, still seemed only slightly lessened.
The priest and priestess turned to their goddess, to see how she might accept this gifts, and in what capacity.
(I'll leave this one open. Choose how and in what way to accept your gifts.)
---------------------------------------
The Obelisk shone suddenly, like steel fresh from the forge, and the light that fell on the city blotted out even the fury of the lightning above. All at once, the city was cleansed of those in doubt, their bodies engulfed by sudden flame. They burned slowly, and the flames ate away at their flesh without robbing them of breath or of life until nothing remained by ash. The screams echoed through the streets as the damned writhed and flailed, and their throes of agony only fed the flames that consumed them.
When at last the screams ended and the flames died, the city fell into utter silence. Every face was pressed to the ground, or stared lifelessly into the sky. Even the Council had fallen still, and feared to speak even to offer praise or promises of loyalty. They waited with held breath as they felt the souls of the deceased stir, and the will of their god reached for the newly freed spirits.
(What shall you do with the souls of the slain? Same choices that Tyyr had)