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The Burning of the Church


Qizu
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AND SO IT BURNED.


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[!] A depiction of the Basilica Burning

 

For it is not everyday that the fires of the world strike our earth. Should it be natural or unnatural the burning rage of fire is one of destruction and creation. For the flame destroyed so the world can start anew, regenerating what it once was before.

 

Today this flame destroyed the Metropolitanate, so that her followers may be released of their falsehood, and start anew.

 

 


 

((DISCLAIMER The following text is only known to those present in roleplay))

 

The air was crisp; the dry season was finally setting in across Almaris. Wood wrinkled and splintered, leaves sealed off at the stem and fell, it was time. 

 

For a year now the elder Herald has worked hard in his efforts to prove himself to the Firstborn. His master had recently given his first of many Um’ei but alas he had failed. “It was so simple?!” He called to himself, “How could I **** up, what did I say wrong.” It was not often he experienced failure but when he did it was as if the fires of the Drakaar were burning into his flesh. “Something, anything, how do I prove myself?” Thought the man, trapped within his own mind. Day after day he would try to place himself among the path of Asioth, however soon he would realize that such a thing can not be forced, but to be accepted. 

 

No matter how many holy knights, demons, monsters, or foul beasts that he hunted it was not a physical action that could solve his Um’ei his master had given him. The elder man fought long and hard to pursue this path set before him, however he thought to himself, “When will it be enough?”


 

 



 

Deep within the bustling city of Yong Ping, a small meeting was held between the two

. A figure clad in fashion speaking to a figure seeking redemption, “Why would I help you?” he questioned bluntly, “Burning something down, will do nothing but show me to the world.” Silence filled the eerie room before the redemptive man spoke, “Because, that church is full of those seeking to kill me. And if I die…. You lose everything, you lose your teacher.” The fashionable figure then replied swiftly, “A dead teacher is rather useless, so I will assist you.” 

 

Without another moment's notice, the pair departed, a freshly mixed batch of Will’o Bottles close by. “I have never used fire in such a way. I do wish to learn its… capabilities,” spoke the fashionable figure as the pair made their way within the heart of Providence.
 

 



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The night grew long and so did the journey of the duo. They finally set foot into the determined location, nothing but a small flame graced the Basilica that night. This candle travelled from the bottom, to the very top of the church. “It is time.” a low voice yearned through the darkness of the attic. At once the sound of shattering glass would hit the floor, one, two, three lanterns were burning now. Smoke piled through the air and alas it was time for their departure. Alas, their work would be done.

Tonight, the war on the dragonkin fell short in the eyes of the humans for their God had betrayed them for their weak mentality, perhaps someday they will not act as a hypnotized flock of sheep.

 

 



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"A shame such a place of godly worship and beauty must burn." The Kharajyr quietly says, shaking his head.

"But it would nay happen if not for the threats of the Church." Haskir smiles, patting his herald on the back.

 

"Your trials come along well."

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A fashionable figure stood before the burning cathedral, "Fire does quite well..." After another moment he turned to head back toward his home, "I will make good use of this element." 

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A despairing Bishop lets out a pained cry at the sight of what has become of his beloved cathedral "Why, GOD, Why!? My.. my home! It's all lost to.. to fire!" He raises his tear-reddened eyes to the burnt skeleton of that Basilica and let's out a growl of pure loathing "Those.. those Azdrazi Daemon-spawn! They.. they did this!! They must all suffer for this! They will all burn!!"

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"Gentlemen.  The Holy See has just been attacked.. I do believe it's time we leave the crippled Ministry be and direct our much unneeded but necessary attention on something more worthwhile. The pagans shall pay within Holy Fire."

A certain veteran who also loved to burn things would state to his comrades around him, looking each of them in the eye as some terrorist tomfoolery would probably ensue.  Regardless of whatever antics would ensue, some searching was needed to be done.
@chacmul@mosscowi@megavoltar@Viraj Dobrial@FranzFerdinand

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Franz Sarkozy takes this opportunity to make s’mores.

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Father Paco prays for the safety of his Imperial brothers in faith and for the safety of the High Pontiff, hoping to hear word they've survived this catastrophe.

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Maisie d'Arkent's fists balled up by her sides as she watched the fire roar from her window. She wasn't strong enough to put it out herself - nor did she have the people on hand to help her.

 

"Only if Lenniel was about." is what Maisie eventually concluded, then drafting up a few letters.

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"Goodness me!" Exclaims a certain orange haired woman as she gazed towards these horrid events from the comfort of her Providence home. "They are having quite the fun, aren't they!"

 

Another woman, weary, heard those cackling flames from her shoppe! "A celebration, perhaps?" The Illatian murmured then as she sketched out various designs.

 

And finally, a growing Basrid peeked out of the palace window, looking out at the crowd. "Erm. ." She hummed with pinched brows.

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From Alice's chambers, the unfettered light illuminated from the scorched cathedral. It grew lifeless, the pristine building now merely charred. A foul sight for the girl, she could only watch in horror as she prayed for the safety of the clergy.

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Diomé looked at the redecorated church and put the artistic part of his brain to work. "Well, it's certainly a massive improvement. Better color scheme and overall structure. Still not great by any metric although it's hard to fix something that started as so terrible." 

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"Surely this is God's wrath for the degeneracy of Providence. God has allowed this to occur as a divine PUNISHMENT for the lax behaviours of the secular and temporal princes. I tell you brothers we will see far more and far worse than this unless we REPENT and cleanse the realms of humanity of these secular vices that have begun to infest our society" Father Paul would rant his eyes wide as he would depart his lecture at the Seminary and sprint to his quarters to prepare a new sermon

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Divided Between Faith and Father

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For it was not upon the shoulders of one GOD-fearing nephilim to decide the sway of GOD's hand upon the actions of others, it was upon himself to hold forth faith in the old church, the one that required no temple nor gold, silver or blessed waters, all but pure faith seemingly blinded by what it was to be mortal. He was traditional in his ways, having walked the streets of Petrus and visited many holy sites throughout the history of mankind. He was old, yet immortal and had sinned to become such. Yet, he was baptized. Redeemed in the waters of rebirth within Estermeadow in Athera to follow GOD and serve him even if visitation to cathedrals and monasteries was not something he indulged. Balthazar knew that conflict would come and that those who bore the cross, much like he, would come to arms against each other. He wore the Lorraine upon his garb, hung rosary from belt, and prayed in the morning, afternoon, and evening for the souls of the faithfully departed. However, within him was a GOD fearing man one that did not fear his church but feared damnation, something his FATHER the Titan saved him from. GOD as he knew it was replaced as he was reborn from man to drake, from mortal to immortal. It was then, that a choice was made. IT was his choice as it had always been, his choice to decide, his time to finally walk towards Asioth. He would fight his brothers in faith, serve his brothers anew, and dispatch mortal men who sought to keep the world from his FATHER's embrace. This, at his core did hurt the newborn azdrazi, yet one Balthazar the Scorched knew that the time was nigh so he prayed, a prayer for all, a prayer for those he had yet to cut down and render flesh to nothing but entrails of clot covered skin and steaming miasma from the fires he would burn them with. It was but the beginning, there was no Skies for him. It was something he came to terms with long ago. So, he prayed for others and not himself and stood from the pew he was knelt in and with a close of the GOOD WORD. He left to seek his FATHER for council.

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Edited by _Sug
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"Yonder there." uttered a voice from the heavens. With a hand downcast from the Skies did that venerable Pontiff make solemn gesture to the cross which remained ever intact in the nave. "Verily now, that is a work of God." With a smile, nearly a smirk, did Jude II speak thereafter, "Our gilded halls and houses of worship mean much to the faith; are forever at it's heart. But ever more do these perpetrators fail to understand; they but scratched at the Lord--destroyed only a fraction of His, for they stand on soil that belongs unto Him, that is of Him, each and every day. This, His Creation, is surely the home of the faithful for it is of the bosom of God.

 

"Certainly will the faith recover and I'm sure good Everard VI and the faithful at large will have a punch to deal back, but with God, it will be no scratch, mm?" he commented to those others observing beside him. With that said, he departed from his viewing point and found the seclusion of his heavenly tower then, knowing full well that while a vehicle of the faith had fallen, there were millions of moving and breathing vehicles destined to carry out God's mission yet living; and so they would.

Edited by GoldWolf
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Durin hammerforges looks over at the smoldering wooden structure and reaches his chubby arm out with his marshmallow stick "oi love marshmallows" He says as he slowly turns it to cook it to perfection

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