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163 - Second Arm of the Fierce Deity
🕑 Added 2021-10-13 17:49:03 +0000 UTCThe rocketball ripped through the air, trailing blue sparks long after its smoke exhaust faded. It splattered upon the reinforced glass, but the surfeit of fiery wrath it carried still managed to permeate the pane, washing over the man at the other side, charring his hair and blistering his skin, if only lightly.
She worked the lever again before holstering the gun, the wooden furniture of its grip already charred black from contact with the ephemeral casement of her left hand. A bullet ripped from the farmer’s gun aimed impeccably at her head. Before she even heard the gunshot the Halo of Thorns had already lashed out, swatting the leaden ball off its course.
Alcerys gave the farmer no more than a glance before she broke into a full sprint, drawing in a deep breath as she burned most of her lung capacity to invoke: “Second Arm of the Fierce Deity!”
Tendrils of blue fire spread out through the projection which surrounded her arm, swirling together in the palm to form a concave shape with a mass of blue behind it. An igneous shaped charge. With this she lashed out, the ephemeral claw colliding with the booth’s reinforced glass for a moment before she detonated its payload. It melted a hole the size of a small coin straight through the reinforced pane, a burst of blue fire erupting out of it and engulfing the commissar. A moment later, even the shell of his cannon detonated, sending myriad small leaden balls flying, some dinging off her armor whilst some were swatted aside by her Halo.
Being that there was still the matter of the golem she recalled the First Arm and, evading the golem’s ponderous attacks, invoked the Second Arm with three lunguls’ worth of Fog. The bright-blue charge damn near reached halfway up her forearm, threatening to burst free at any moment.
Lashing it to the golem’s chest-plate she detonated the charge. The technique’s recoil sent her stumbling as she got her bearings, and half a second later, it erupted out the construct’s back, showering the building behind it with shattered clay, steel shrapnel, and whatever vile goop was found within the construct’s core. She hadn’t even known it was susceptible to massive heatshock, but the fact that it was suggested some truly revolting explanations for how the Empire could produce so many golems.
Alcerys leapt up to the walkway using the First Arm as assistance, staring down the farm boy pretending to be a soldier.
“Wh-what-” he stuttered in Pateirian.
She raised the Eye to him.
He stared at it in a mixture of confusion and primal fear.
“Not guilty,” she uttered, using the First Arm to snatch his gun and toss it far away before she jumped down to the other side of the checkpoint.
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Making her way through the city’s many narrower streets Alcerys came upon a considerable number of civilians, some fleeing in terror, some simply getting out of the way. Others still stood by marveling at the sight; a woman in charred plate armor, one arm enveloped by a flaming claw, the other wielding a flaming sword, and a blazing halo of thorns behind her head.
Even those only tangentially familiar with Grekurian culture recognized that it was as if a figure stepped straight out of an Orthodoxy mural, doubly so considering the fact she constantly held up her left hand in that prayer gesture to ease maintaining her techniques.
The Eye looked upon all of them and found them not guilty, except for one.
A well-off looking woman with a skin tone telling the tale of a mixed Ikesio-Grekurian ancestry, and everything else that told one of relative wealth. A nice haircut, an expensive looking dress, jade and gold western-style jewelry…
And a browbeaten-looking boy followed her in tow, looking away, carrying a pair of bags.
At the sight of Alcerys the woman’s makeup-laden eyelids shot wide open and her lips drew back like those of a horse, and she cried out like a banshee, exaggeratedly screeching for soldiers. Upon realizing none were nearby, she grabbed her son and pushed him in front, commanding him to defend her, crying out still that she was being assassinated.
Alcerys sighed.
“I couldn’t conceivably care less for who you are, hag,” she spat apathetically.
Nevertheless, she stepped towards the woman and raised her sword, intending to do minimal violence upon her. It would not be necessary. The psychological shock would suffice.
“But know that I see your guilt, and it demands punishment.”
With the First Arm she grabbed the brocaded dress sleeve, dragging the woman across the ground as the fabric caught fire and she grabbed at her son’s legs. Then she grabbed the woman’s hair, and with Emberthorn cut it short, leaving it to smolder. She ran its spine across the woman’s arm once, leaving six or perhaps seven quills shallowly embedded in her flesh, impeded by the fabric which was so dense it acted as rudimentary armor.
As she carried out this duty, taking no personal pleasure in it beyond doing what needs to be done, Alcerys spoke to the boy over the hag’s incessant screeching: “You need to get away from her. She views you as no more than property.”
That was the extent of her interaction with those two, after which point she simply left, tuning out the older woman’s screeching.
Two more checkpoints ended up standing between her and the lighthouse, one guarded by three men and two golems, whilst the other had five men and a tank, with three of them manning it. With the former, she shot the men up on the walkway, using the First and Second Arm to destroy both golems. The two other men - one a commissar and the other a soldier on-foot - she disabled using Emberthorn.
Even after the first one shot at her she settled for severing his Achilles tendons, for his guilt was minimal. The Eye barely even acknowledged him, unlike the others. To absolutely no surprise, however, it seethed at the sight of the commissar in the booth, and Alcerys delivered appropriate punishment.
