// 024. [video]
[A slow scrape as the Forge comes to life - literally. Static burst and colors flicker green, grey and every shade and shadow in between. The device slides along the stones that make the streets here, water clinging and pooling in random cracks - beading and rolling across the screen as it stands itself up.
There's a rolling whisper if you listen for it.]
ĩ̴̢̭̣̳̞̲͎̫ͮ̔̇̍͆̌͌ͥwhy̴̡͍͇̺̯̼͍͙͚͕͉̮̗̗̥͉̠̹̜̼͈͖̖͗̅ͧ̎̅́ͤ̉̓̓͛ͩͤ͂͆͂̓ͩ͗͝͡?
[A jet of flame shoots past it as it spins and rises - giving view to a stone lion pacing in front of an ornately barred fence. Smoke curls from its nostrils as it paces, flicks its ear and rears - pawing at the air and breathing bright heat.]
ĩ̴̢̭̣̳̞̲͎̫ͮ̔̇̍͆̌͌ͥh
ĩ̴̢̭̣̳̞̲͎̫ͮ̔̇̍͆̌͌ͥa
ĩ̴̢̭̣̳̞̲͎̫ͮ̔̇̍͆̌͌ͥv
ĩ̴̢̭̣̳̞̲͎̫ͮ̔̇̍͆̌͌ͥe
[Up, up and up, past the fence now and circling in the air to reveal the block barred in by curved metal and stone lion upon stone lion, specks of flame dotting the air, intermittently punctuated by screams as people try to run in or out.]
i waited ĩ̴̢̭̣̳̞̲͎̫ͮ̔̇̍͆̌͌ͥ
[Flying past a row of buildings, one on fire and the other two just dark, open smoking shells.]
[Broken windows, broken bodies,and now the Forge is spiraling
d
o
w
n
- a steady march of native feet down and out and away single file (try not to run) through smoke and cinder.]
ĩ̴̢̭̣̳̞̲͎̫ͮ̔̇̍͆̌͌ͥ
s
o
ĩ̴̢̭̣̳̞̲͎̫ͮ̔̇̍͆̌͌ͥ
[Whooshing past and stopping to peer into the eye of one of the dead before rising again to focus on the docks.]
ĩ̴̢̭̣̳̞̲͎̫ͮ̔̇̍͆̌͌ͥĩ̴̢̭̣̳̞̲͎̫ͮ̔̇̍͆̌͌ͥĩ̴̢̭̣̳̞̲͎̫ͮ̔̇̍͆̌͌ͥlongĩ̴̢̭̣̳̞̲͎̫ͮ̔̇̍͆̌͌ͥ
[Bodies floating in the water, some bloated and fishnibbled, some freshly drowned and yet untouched. All otherwise unmarked.]
Morsmordre
[Lighting in the sky like sickness, a sparkling conflagration of lines coming together to shimmer there - fire and blood against stars.
Are those bricks floating by? Maybe so.
Natives scurry beneath its light (hat same mark is burnt dark into the flesh of those that remain - those that aren't cordoned into the tiny slum, or floating among the fish) piling scrap upon the makeshift dais in the burned clearing. Hearth and home and wealth. Fuel for the fire and offerings to be shaped into something magnificent.
They melt with light, melt and meld into a form lit by the one in the sky - so many offerings and yet they yield only a fraction of its measure. Among them, one might glimpse bones. They spire and rise into a curve, upward reaching and unfinished. The air shimmers with promises of what will be - blink and it's gone, the shadow of a shadow.]
[ooc: SOB. In case it is unclear this happened.]
There's a rolling whisper if you listen for it.]
ĩ̴̢̭̣̳̞̲͎̫ͮ̔̇̍͆̌͌ͥwhy̴̡͍͇̺̯̼͍͙͚͕͉̮̗̗̥͉̠̹̜̼͈͖̖͗̅ͧ̎̅́ͤ̉̓̓͛ͩͤ͂͆͂̓ͩ͗͝͡?
[A jet of flame shoots past it as it spins and rises - giving view to a stone lion pacing in front of an ornately barred fence. Smoke curls from its nostrils as it paces, flicks its ear and rears - pawing at the air and breathing bright heat.]
ĩ̴̢̭̣̳̞̲͎̫ͮ̔̇̍͆̌͌ͥh
ĩ̴̢̭̣̳̞̲͎̫ͮ̔̇̍͆̌͌ͥa
ĩ̴̢̭̣̳̞̲͎̫ͮ̔̇̍͆̌͌ͥv
ĩ̴̢̭̣̳̞̲͎̫ͮ̔̇̍͆̌͌ͥe
[Up, up and up, past the fence now and circling in the air to reveal the block barred in by curved metal and stone lion upon stone lion, specks of flame dotting the air, intermittently punctuated by screams as people try to run in or out.]
i waited ĩ̴̢̭̣̳̞̲͎̫ͮ̔̇̍͆̌͌ͥ
[Flying past a row of buildings, one on fire and the other two just dark, open smoking shells.]
[Broken windows, broken bodies,and now the Forge is spiraling
d
o
w
n
- a steady march of native feet down and out and away single file (try not to run) through smoke and cinder.]
ĩ̴̢̭̣̳̞̲͎̫ͮ̔̇̍͆̌͌ͥ
s
o
ĩ̴̢̭̣̳̞̲͎̫ͮ̔̇̍͆̌͌ͥ
[Whooshing past and stopping to peer into the eye of one of the dead before rising again to focus on the docks.]
ĩ̴̢̭̣̳̞̲͎̫ͮ̔̇̍͆̌͌ͥĩ̴̢̭̣̳̞̲͎̫ͮ̔̇̍͆̌͌ͥĩ̴̢̭̣̳̞̲͎̫ͮ̔̇̍͆̌͌ͥlongĩ̴̢̭̣̳̞̲͎̫ͮ̔̇̍͆̌͌ͥ
[Bodies floating in the water, some bloated and fishnibbled, some freshly drowned and yet untouched. All otherwise unmarked.]
Morsmordre
[Lighting in the sky like sickness, a sparkling conflagration of lines coming together to shimmer there - fire and blood against stars.
Are those bricks floating by? Maybe so.
Natives scurry beneath its light (hat same mark is burnt dark into the flesh of those that remain - those that aren't cordoned into the tiny slum, or floating among the fish) piling scrap upon the makeshift dais in the burned clearing. Hearth and home and wealth. Fuel for the fire and offerings to be shaped into something magnificent.
They melt with light, melt and meld into a form lit by the one in the sky - so many offerings and yet they yield only a fraction of its measure. Among them, one might glimpse bones. They spire and rise into a curve, upward reaching and unfinished. The air shimmers with promises of what will be - blink and it's gone, the shadow of a shadow.]
[ooc: SOB. In case it is unclear this happened.]