Thy Do Not Dare... Steal From The Creator.

[Geo 1415]

 

Night... settled over Salvus.  

 

 

Soft winds, massaged the air around the city's people.  Flutes, lutes and melody soothed the air, with nothing to disturb the perfect harmony other than the banter of rowdy drunk nobles.  Peace.  The lanterns spread throughout Salvus, the sole source of light in the streets.  Beautiful.  Everything seemed to be lovely...  perfect...   Seemed to be. 

 

The burly stalwart walls that held Salvus' very structure together continued to stand this night.  However if one would look up, the little black legs of a shadowy individual dangled from them.  Its little black boots... swaying... and swaying.  A large black hood covered its face as it overlooked the city.  It held a large black tome in its palm, with a quill in the other.

And it wrote... and wrote.

 

"My little town of Salvation, Solace and Solitude.  Hath driven it away, fouled its mood..."

"A well of imperfect souls and putrid disease.  Ignoring its fisherman's pleas..."

"It did judge.  It did kill.  It did paint the land, O' with its quill."

"For once did it overshadow, for once did it reap and once did it sow.  It returns now, to continue the show!"

 

It dips the quill deep in a pot of ink, its black lips twisting to a smile.

 

"The creator, the master, the voice in its head.  Unhappy of his children, being mislead."

"God almighty.  God above.  Lord of the church.  Whiter than a dove."

"The creator's saviour, returns now.  To reap the souls of those whom do not bow."

"You hath stolen his power... you hath abused his trust.  Ashes to ashes... dust to dust."

 

It slowly closes the volume over and peers up.  Amongst the overcasting shadow of the moon, its little amethyst slits glint back...

 

 

[Caln McHarnish/porkchopp2 71]

Caln McHarnish looks up at the moon to see a pair of dangling boots. Quickly, he walks to his house and locks the door.

((I read this right before I went to bed. Now I will have nightmares, thanks. Nice post)))

[Bashar al-Assad 120]

 

Night... settled over Salvus.  

 

 

Soft winds, massaged the air around the city's people.  Flutes, lutes and melody soothed the air, with nothing to disturb the perfect harmony other than the banter of rowdy drunk nobles.  Peace.  The lanterns spread throughout Salvus, the sole source of light in the streets.  Beautiful.  Everything seemed to be lovely...  perfect...   Seemed to be. 

 

The burly stalwart walls that held Salvus' very structure together continued to stand this night.  However if one would look up, the little black legs of a shadowy individual dangled from them.  Its little black boots... swaying... and swaying.  A large black hood covered its face as it overlooked the city.  It held a large black tome in its palm, with a quill in the other.

And it wrote... and wrote.

 

"My little town of Salvation, Solace and Solitude.  Hath driven it away, fouled its mood..."

"A well of imperfect souls and putrid disease.  Ignoring its fisherman's pleas..."

"It did judge.  It did kill.  It did paint the land, O' with its quill."

"For once did it overshadow, for once did it reap and once did it sow.  It returns now, to continue the show!"

 

It dips the quill deep in a pot of ink, its black lips twisting to a smile.

 

"The creator, the master, the voice in its head.  Unhappy of his children, being mislead."

"God almighty.  God above.  Lord of the church.  Whiter than a dove."

"The creator's saviour, returns now.  To reap the souls of those whom do not bow."

"You hath stolen his power... you hath abused his trust.  Ashes to ashes... dust to dust."

 

It slowly closes the volume over and peers up.  Amongst the overcasting shadow of the moon, its little amethyst slits glint back...

((I OOCly and ICly completely agree with every word. You have my approval.))

[calculusdesola 1658]

Che's vigilant posture and rapid march of foot made noticing the full moon's light difficult; the lantern-donned alleys and corridors of Salvus reflecting as much light back from the city to the great moon above.  Through the light, perhaps the slight jingle of ebon figures across the moon are visible to the cautious eye.  Che glances up as he can, the troop vanguard following newly-wed Thomas Chivay passing through the midnight streets ever hastily - for the workings of the great nobility wait for none.  

 

He pondered for one scarce, rushed moment if the odd shapes were, perhaps, explainable by science or imagination.  And indeed, as the troop passed through the massive, menacing eastern gate of Salvus' mighty walls, the moon itself became more and more clear.  "A-one might wonder what would be if the almighty Creator descended to the world;" the complex thoughts struck Che like a hammer.   "I imagine then all thirds of impious Oren would be destroyed."  

 

He frowned, and the cohort of roses marched along into the gloomy, forgetful night.

 

((This thread deserves more attention. I applaud Geo for that poetry and sentiment - the shape of things to come ;) ))

[spqrSancus 175]

Elsil looks up. He sees the man in the twilight. He narrows his eyes, but says nothing. He walks out of the city, flipping up his hood.