(no subject)
So this is Old Portland.
A night sky that seems to hang heavy above everything, the small, feeble pinpricks of the stars anemic and cold and unfamiliar. No comfort in this sky; just the odd sense that when night gives birth to day, a terrible cataclysm will begin.
This sense is not helped along by the dozens upon dozens of frightening statues that dot the landscape at odd intervals.
These statues...they were not placed where they are by an artist's hand for maximum aesthetic effect. No, they're too random for that, too twisted. No artist alive could capture the terror that's showing on these faces, the horrible bent postures, the running figures caught at just the right moment so they wouldn't be too overbalanced.
Others weren't so lucky. Here and there, rubble is strewn in places where running figures WERE overbalanced.
Rubble with faces, and hands, and feet.
There's the soft whoomph of air displacement as the PINpoint portal opens and Hippolyta emerges. She trusts the other six behind her to follow through quickly and quietly.
She's immediately on the alert, head swiveling back and forth as her night-vision goggles kick back in. She's looking for Saddler and Ramon. Somewhere, that son of bitch has the man she loves and she's sure as hell not going to let him get away with it.
Her bazookoid takes up both hands. But her .9mm pistol is ready to be pulled at a moment's notice, if need be.
There are a few buildings dotting the courtyard. None of them show any activity within. Hippolyta has to hope that Saddler didn't think to duck inside one; doing a door to door search here would take far too long.
She makes a hand gesture to the others following. Look around. Look around. Look around.
Ramon, hold on, we're coming for you...
((Please read this and this prior to replying.))
A night sky that seems to hang heavy above everything, the small, feeble pinpricks of the stars anemic and cold and unfamiliar. No comfort in this sky; just the odd sense that when night gives birth to day, a terrible cataclysm will begin.
This sense is not helped along by the dozens upon dozens of frightening statues that dot the landscape at odd intervals.
These statues...they were not placed where they are by an artist's hand for maximum aesthetic effect. No, they're too random for that, too twisted. No artist alive could capture the terror that's showing on these faces, the horrible bent postures, the running figures caught at just the right moment so they wouldn't be too overbalanced.
Others weren't so lucky. Here and there, rubble is strewn in places where running figures WERE overbalanced.
Rubble with faces, and hands, and feet.
There's the soft whoomph of air displacement as the PINpoint portal opens and Hippolyta emerges. She trusts the other six behind her to follow through quickly and quietly.
She's immediately on the alert, head swiveling back and forth as her night-vision goggles kick back in. She's looking for Saddler and Ramon. Somewhere, that son of bitch has the man she loves and she's sure as hell not going to let him get away with it.
Her bazookoid takes up both hands. But her .9mm pistol is ready to be pulled at a moment's notice, if need be.
There are a few buildings dotting the courtyard. None of them show any activity within. Hippolyta has to hope that Saddler didn't think to duck inside one; doing a door to door search here would take far too long.
She makes a hand gesture to the others following. Look around. Look around. Look around.
Ramon, hold on, we're coming for you...
((Please read this and this prior to replying.))