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 Posted: Tue Mar 10, 2009 8:28 pm
The air goes frigid. The cloudless sky darkens, the sun blocked out by some freak divine event. Eyewitnesses and authorities would claim an eclipse. A dark hand reaches out of the air and grabs Writ by the shoulder. It drags him into invisibility, away from Ciro, away from the cafe.
The wind howls around both god and boy. Beyond their small circle of gray light, the souls of the dead cry out for salvation. Anubis towers over the wounded player.
"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU'VE DONE?"
He is more Jackal than human. More God than man. This is his true form and his true power.
"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU'VE DONE?"
He pulls Writ to his feet. And then the wind fades, the dead retreat, the sky lightens, and the god vanishes. Writ is no longer in the cafe. He is in a park. The flora looks like Africa. The air rings with player power. This is Micro-Zimbabwe, and for the moment, Writ has been spared by quite literal divine intervention.
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Posted: Tue Mar 10, 2009 8:38 pm
What…
The…
Hell?!
He knew the voice-- but still… imagining that Anubis might have that much power? Ciro never knew. His bones felt cold despite the fire in his heart…
That was what awaited you when the game was over? Entering a vortex of the dead….? Ciro didn’t want to picture the afterlife, not after witnessing something like that.
But… Had he won? He did, didn’t he. The last he had saw of Writ was flames, before Anubis had interfered.
Was he… dead?
He hoped so. He hoped to God that Writ was dead.
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Posted: Tue Mar 10, 2009 8:48 pm
The ******** was about to get his skull burned off, and now he was in... His human form? In Little Africa? No... Smaller. Lot smaller. He didn't remember.
His head hurt.
Probably a ******** ******** ******** ********. There were burns on his wrists and on his chest, and they still hurt like ******** did something wrong, didn't I?" Writ mumbled to himself before passing out.
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