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879343 Posts in 32975 Topics- by 24362 Members - Latest Member: Zokk

May 23, 2013, 08:33:39 PM
TIGSource ForumsPlayerGeneralTIGSTWG XXI: The Hand of God [COMPLETE]
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Author Topic: TIGSTWG XXI: The Hand of God [COMPLETE]  (Read 10255 times)
eigenbom
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« Reply #75 on: April 09, 2012, 03:17:40 PM »

For his jovial retort? This does not seem ... just.
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thatshelby
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« Reply #76 on: April 09, 2012, 03:18:35 PM »

Maybe he just doesn't like joviality...
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Dacke
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« Reply #77 on: April 09, 2012, 03:26:16 PM »

If I remember correctly what I learnt in kindergarten, a day is 48 hours long. Dusk should be upon us soon.

His Holiness peanutbuttershoes has not been seen in our town or the surrounding area for 33 hours. Presumably he knows that his judgement of Fission Mailed is truly just and does not feel the need to be in contact with us more than absolutely necessary. Which is understandable; after all, he does walk with God.
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Franklins Ghost
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« Reply #78 on: April 09, 2012, 07:00:00 PM »

Let us wait for judgement to fall on our town and for evil to show its face and be vanquished. I await the judgement of our holy man peanutbuttershoes.
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Fission Mailed
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« Reply #79 on: April 09, 2012, 08:02:55 PM »

Let me make things clear. I am innocent. I don't really know what I can do to convince you folk that I am, but hopefully you can trust me in this. So far we really have little evidence at all of who could be a demon, so we will have to trust peanutbuttershoes in his decision. I have lived in this town since I was a babe, as my father did, and his father did before him. The only reason I responded in such a way to Ashkin is because he asked if anyone had noticed any odd activity, and it seemed to me that he was trying to allay any suspicion off him and onto others.
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Inanimate
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« Reply #80 on: April 09, 2012, 08:17:57 PM »


As dusk begins to fall upon the dreary town, tensions rise. They know an execution must be declared before the sun falls below the horizon, and eyes begin to watch Fission Mailed, whose explanations are cut short by Peanutbuttershoes standing up from his seat on the edge of the statue.

His eyes look over the gathered townspeople, with a weariness and tiredness that could only come from years of similar nights, similar judgments. His hand rests upon the hilt of his gleaming blade -- still shining, even in the dark hues of the encroaching night -- and he turns to watch Fission Mailed, who has been watching him coolly.

"Fission Mailed," the crusader says, as he rights himself, standing tall. "God's judgment has been placed upon you."

The villager closes his eyes, and breathes calmly.

"I know." He says, and sighs. His face is stony, unmoving -- accepting.

The Hand of God's face remains stoic as, with a deft and impossibly fast slash of the blade, a gash is cleanly torn across Fission Mailed's chest, searing white with an intense holy light. He falls to the ground, at peace. There seems to be no blood, no pain, in his death.

"God's will has been done. Fission Mailed has been executed," The Hand of God proclaims, and sheathes his unstained blade, before sitting back down, and staring quietly at the ground in front of him.

The clock strikes 9, as the town shuffles back into their homes, for a night of fitful sleep.


NIGHT I
« Last Edit: April 09, 2012, 08:42:39 PM by Inanimate » Logged
peanutbuttershoes
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« Reply #81 on: April 09, 2012, 08:20:52 PM »

People! Hear Me!

I have returned from my place of prayer and fasting in which I was seeking perfect alignment with The Lord's will during the holy week.

I bring a message, one of judgement and hellfire. A holy abolition is most assuredly coming to this place. Prepare your hearts and cleanse yourselves of your wicked ways and perhaps you will survive.

Fission Mailed's death was the will of The Father. I do not know yet what the purpose of it could mean if his testimony of innocence was true.
Though The Lord's choice was made clear to me. May God have mercy on his soul.
Indeed, we may never know the purpose of these things for we see only in part, but He sees the whole.
« Last Edit: April 09, 2012, 08:52:12 PM by peanutbuttershoes » Logged

thatshelby
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« Reply #82 on: April 09, 2012, 08:34:17 PM »

O Brother Fission Mailed, may you rest in peace. I felt you were innocent, but perhaps there was a different face behind that mask - the mask that is your fleshy face.
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Inanimate
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« Reply #83 on: April 09, 2012, 08:44:24 PM »

Night begins. You're asleep -- no speaking in thread. Any night actions you wish to carry out, relay them to me now. Day begins when all night actions have been received and processed.
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Inanimate
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« Reply #84 on: April 10, 2012, 08:30:29 PM »

(Due to unfortunate circumstances, ev149 has to be replaced. I am looking for a person willing to fill in. Any takers?)
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Fission Mailed
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« Reply #85 on: April 10, 2012, 10:53:30 PM »

me  Durr...?
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Alevice
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« Reply #86 on: April 11, 2012, 05:47:47 AM »

I submit myself to divine judgement.
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Inanimate
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« Reply #87 on: April 11, 2012, 03:16:50 PM »

You pass with flying colors, welcome aboard.

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Inanimate
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« Reply #88 on: April 13, 2012, 07:34:06 PM »

DAY II
2/7

Dawn breaks upon the weary town, and people shuffle out of their homes with a ponderous dread. Though the Hand of God has come to their small and humble town, they know that it will not be as easy as one night of executions to stop the menace that plagues them.

As the town congregates around the statue of the angel, they find that their divine protector is not resting at his usual place. The people look to each other, and begin discussing in earnest where he could be, when someone speaks up and notes:

"Where's Ashkin and Shelby?"

The crowd stops their gossiping, and rush to the home of Shelby. The first man there lets out a ghastly scream of horror, and falls to the ground, flailing wildly.

The inside of his home is splattered with blood -- shelves have been torn down, bookcases ravaged and burned, and the shredded remnants of Shelby lies in the center of the room, his chest torn apart, heart devoured, innards becoming outtards. His face is locked, forever now, in an agonized horror, completely beyond any imaginable pain.

An intrepid person closes the door hurriedly, and marks it with the sign of a cross, before turning to the crowd and shaking his head.

"Now, where's Ashkin?" Someone notes, a look of concern on their face. The crowd shivers in fear, uncertain of what horror they will find.

Inside Ashkin's home, the body of the villager is discovered, fallen on his knees. It is charred to a crisp, his skin blackened and twisted by an intense heat -- but no other signs of burning or inferno can be seen, anywhere in the household. A careful prod sends the body to the ground, where it scatters into a fine black dust.

"Two have fallen," a voice proclaims, and everyone whirls around to see the Hand of God standing on the seat of the statue, arms crossed in deliberation. "And more shall still fall, before my job is done. The will of God works in mysterious ways -- we can only glean pieces of his truth, only feel parts of his protection. It is not in our duty to see the entire scheme of things."

He steps down from his perch, and crosses over to close the door to Ashkin's house, its steel handle melted and twisted by an impossible heat.

"Yet, the will of God is present. Let no one doubt his power and protection. Let no one doubt his wrath and mercy. Let no one doubt his prudence and wisdom. We have far to go, my brethren." The crusader closes his eyes, in quiet thought, and then looks up at the crowd, burning with a passion no one had seen in him before.

"The will of God shall be done! And none shall stand in his way!"

The crowd roars with divine fervor, and the second day has begun.

--

thatshelby has died.
Ashkin has died.

« Last Edit: April 14, 2012, 12:53:59 PM by Inanimate » Logged
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« Reply #89 on: April 14, 2012, 12:54:30 PM »

Day 2 has begun.
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