Part 1: The Pilot
The air was thick with smoke, and the ground was littered with twicthing bodies and hacked up corpses left to rot in the mud. The village spires and steepled roof tops were set a glow with flickering oranges and reds, against a dark black backdrop that was overcast by a full bloodred moon and a chorus of agonized screams, that echoed deep within the centre of the burning village.
In their last stand against the brigands that had attacked their sweet quiet little home nestled deep within the valleys, far West of Rhy'din, the villagers had locked themselves up within the only place left still standing, untouched by the purifying scourge that was the flame. Their place of worship was not quite so easy to burn, as it was made completely out of cold stone ? even the furniture inside was made out of the same sterner stuffs as the foundations, allowing it to stand against four centuries of age and corrosion from natural disasters and previous attacks.
The women and the children were placed far in the back of the massive hall, while the men with their makeshift weapons from simple household, working and gardening items were congregated around the thick, heavy oaken double doors.
Women and children whimpered, while the men shook in their boots ? biting their lips, glaring at the door just begging for an ounce of revenge against the heartless bastards that raped and pillage their beautiful eden.
But all thoughts of vengence and confidence was sucked dry from their pale faces as the doors juttered violently from something heavy crashing into it from the otherside, allowing a horrible thud to echo within the stone walls, to send the skittish women and children to cry and wail.
Hands shook as the weapons were held knuckle-white, as again, and again, the thud came. Getting strong, getting louder ? the door splitering outwards as a visible crack and snap set the defending men's breaths to catch in their throats.
And then there was nothing. The door did not give way, the thudding had stopped. A renewed silence fell upon the survivors, as they looked to between themselves, wondering what was really going on outside. Somehow, the strong internal lock within the door had somehow managed to hold up against the battering ram that was evidently on the otherside.
Courage swelled within one of the men's chest, and he stepped forward ? pitchfork poised at the ready as he edged his way closer to the door. He bit at his lower lip so much so, that he had drawn blood. During his approach, he felt his grip at the weapon loosen as one hand came away from the shaft, his knees bending so that he could dip low to the keyhole, to try and take a glimpse of the village outside.
But what he saw froze him in place. A sorrowful groan came from his lips, as he stared right back at the figure of a small child, bound in some kind of strange suit, wearing a cloak and cowl that concealed its face. But was most disturbing of all was the strange tubing that was seemingly coming from the child's unseen face, almost as if the child was wearing a very sophisticated gasmask.
"... What... Is it?" The man's words croaked out, as he watched the child-like abomination lift a very strange and bulky firearm. It flicked into life with a pulsating bass-like drone, animating a strange purple glow at the very nozzle.
Before he even had a chance to know what was going on, the door had simply burnt away under the sheer force of the blast and the heat of the black energy that poured into the doorway. The dark promethean flames melted his skin away in a matter of seconds, allowing him not a single moment to think of his loved ones, as he simply disintergrated away into a pile of scorched bone.
The rest of the defenders retreated back from the door, running for their lives as several of these little child-monsters tresspassed within their God's sacred home, letting loose jets of black flame to consume and to destroy all that stood in their slow, steady advance.
Yet there was on other pressence at the doorway, a tall figure wrapped up in a thick black cloak that followed the children in. Despite the hood that concealed this ones face, it was evident that it was indeed the Vindicator. For the glow of her purple visor shone from the darkness.
Her androdynous, heavily static and serpentine voice called out to her Daughters over the screams and agonized pleas of mercy, as she lifted her serrated sword towards the group at the back "Puuuurge the men and women. The children, musssst remain untouuuched."
The air was thick with smoke, and the ground was littered with twicthing bodies and hacked up corpses left to rot in the mud. The village spires and steepled roof tops were set a glow with flickering oranges and reds, against a dark black backdrop that was overcast by a full bloodred moon and a chorus of agonized screams, that echoed deep within the centre of the burning village.
In their last stand against the brigands that had attacked their sweet quiet little home nestled deep within the valleys, far West of Rhy'din, the villagers had locked themselves up within the only place left still standing, untouched by the purifying scourge that was the flame. Their place of worship was not quite so easy to burn, as it was made completely out of cold stone ? even the furniture inside was made out of the same sterner stuffs as the foundations, allowing it to stand against four centuries of age and corrosion from natural disasters and previous attacks.
The women and the children were placed far in the back of the massive hall, while the men with their makeshift weapons from simple household, working and gardening items were congregated around the thick, heavy oaken double doors.
Women and children whimpered, while the men shook in their boots ? biting their lips, glaring at the door just begging for an ounce of revenge against the heartless bastards that raped and pillage their beautiful eden.
But all thoughts of vengence and confidence was sucked dry from their pale faces as the doors juttered violently from something heavy crashing into it from the otherside, allowing a horrible thud to echo within the stone walls, to send the skittish women and children to cry and wail.
Hands shook as the weapons were held knuckle-white, as again, and again, the thud came. Getting strong, getting louder ? the door splitering outwards as a visible crack and snap set the defending men's breaths to catch in their throats.
And then there was nothing. The door did not give way, the thudding had stopped. A renewed silence fell upon the survivors, as they looked to between themselves, wondering what was really going on outside. Somehow, the strong internal lock within the door had somehow managed to hold up against the battering ram that was evidently on the otherside.
Courage swelled within one of the men's chest, and he stepped forward ? pitchfork poised at the ready as he edged his way closer to the door. He bit at his lower lip so much so, that he had drawn blood. During his approach, he felt his grip at the weapon loosen as one hand came away from the shaft, his knees bending so that he could dip low to the keyhole, to try and take a glimpse of the village outside.
But what he saw froze him in place. A sorrowful groan came from his lips, as he stared right back at the figure of a small child, bound in some kind of strange suit, wearing a cloak and cowl that concealed its face. But was most disturbing of all was the strange tubing that was seemingly coming from the child's unseen face, almost as if the child was wearing a very sophisticated gasmask.
"... What... Is it?" The man's words croaked out, as he watched the child-like abomination lift a very strange and bulky firearm. It flicked into life with a pulsating bass-like drone, animating a strange purple glow at the very nozzle.
Before he even had a chance to know what was going on, the door had simply burnt away under the sheer force of the blast and the heat of the black energy that poured into the doorway. The dark promethean flames melted his skin away in a matter of seconds, allowing him not a single moment to think of his loved ones, as he simply disintergrated away into a pile of scorched bone.
The rest of the defenders retreated back from the door, running for their lives as several of these little child-monsters tresspassed within their God's sacred home, letting loose jets of black flame to consume and to destroy all that stood in their slow, steady advance.
Yet there was on other pressence at the doorway, a tall figure wrapped up in a thick black cloak that followed the children in. Despite the hood that concealed this ones face, it was evident that it was indeed the Vindicator. For the glow of her purple visor shone from the darkness.
Her androdynous, heavily static and serpentine voice called out to her Daughters over the screams and agonized pleas of mercy, as she lifted her serrated sword towards the group at the back "Puuuurge the men and women. The children, musssst remain untouuuched."