THE FLAMES OF RAGUEL

[Werew0lf 24181]

Spoiler

 

 

 

[This is a roleplay post based on an in-game interaction with player permission].

 

The child cradled herself in the burning shop, one hand shifting towards a brown grizzly-bear stuffed toy she had bought on vacation within the Kingdom of Balian. Her parents had already fled, and in mistake, they had left their innocent daughter, of human born descent, within the conclaves of a flaming city. Wooden rooftop hinges croaked, falling with plumes of ash ripping through the sky. “Where is mommy?” cried the teen, only at the tender age of twelve. 

 

As the building continued to collapse, a great beam of light manifested in a small rip upon the roof-tiles. Within a matter of seconds, the child’s peripherals were consumed by great, fiery wings, and she now stood outside a farm hut near Hohkmat. 

 

Upon looking up, her eyes welled with tears, mainly from the fear of imminent death. Even with her ‘saviour’ in view, she was only filled by sheer horror. Raguel stood in front of the child, besmirched in righteous flames, his white-robes drenched in dark red blood, and blood of a normal crimson hue. “Do not look, beloved child,” one gauntleted hand croaked in the direction of her eyes, masking away the scene behind the duo. His wings stretched out violently, warding the stranger child from any more gruesome details that may lie behind them. 

 

“Let us find your parents,” were the words spoken by the Aengul of Justice. The child could see an innocent, calm smile upon the half-covered vestiges of the winged-mans’ countenance, and it was enough to ease her nerves. Without any hesitation, the child’s small hand barely wrangled around a singular finger mantled by Raguel, who led her away. 

 

“Thank you, sir, you have lovely wings!” This was the irreproachability of an innocent child. Raguel could only ponder this thought, and it made him feel righteous. With slow steps to accommodate the child, the aengul led her away from the kingdom. Only for a short second, the child was able to glance backwards.

 

There it was: the sight of destruction - or as Raguel called it, righteous fury. It was wrath manifested by the aengul, filled by the smell of bodies, ash pluming through rooftops, and fire cascading across each corner, each alleyway, and each structure in Hohkmat. One could see humanoid corpses lining the walls, all impaled upright with metal crosses fitted through their stomachs. These corpses dangled in place, sordid in whatever clothes those who had worn them previously had, albeit burnt or bloodied. Some of these corpses seemed far too inhuman to be of the descendant race, whilst others seemed to accommodate the human image. 

 

Using his thumb to press against her chin, Raguel subtly shifted her gaze away from the kingdom, and his wings hung around her body, providing her ample comfort. For some reason, the child did not show fear. 

 

She understood, 

 

perhaps,

that this was justice. 

 

[In the coming days, players may come across corpses resembling demons impaled by crosses, marked by the vigil of a burning fist that illuminates in the dark]. 

 

[xo31 3998]

 

Deep beneath the earth, a rip was opened.

A mage who cared not for the politics of 'what if' and 'who'.
A Wizard who only cared to taste the blood of an Aengul.

 

Something was terribly wrong.

[Javert 9633]

Leonidas of Myrine rested within Lemon Hill, feeling the calming autumn heartlander breeze brush against his face. In his lap rested his sword, the Avatar of Justice, given unto him by his patron Saint Raguel. As the white flames of the blade danced harmlessly against his clothes, Leonidas could not help but ponder.

 

"Justice...it is more than bringing heretics and schismatics low before the might of GOD. It means as well to protect the innocent and uplift those harmed by the followers of the deceiver."

 

In the aftermath of his thought process, Leonidas arose from where he sat. He sheathed the Avatar of Justice, looked out to the horizon, and made his way into Grense proper. The will of GOD and of Saint Raguel would be done, and there was much work for the Order to do.

[The Tough Guy 4319]