-ooc- Heh, I guess being ridiculously paranoid has it's unfortunate consequences, aye?(OOC: Hotfoot that was fucked up, no reasonable person would conclude that that man was a photographer based on your posts)
OH, and Marcao, listening to Blackeyes theme right now
Ixa'gal
Arcane Occupation Zone, Former Covenant of God Territory
Risha su Miitgar stared in disbelief. Her suburban house overlooked the Temple City, and even from there, she could hear the chanting of a million voices.
The vista below was marred by a massive black imperfection- spreading like some terrible fungus across the city below, riots were forming. Risha could hear the screams, the shouts, the chanted prayers. Hanging over the city, in a dozen places, holographic representations of the Covenant flag floated, interposed by massive illusionary fists gripping broken chains.
Fires were already forming in some areas, where the Alliance reaction forces had not been fast enough.
Risha shook her head. Her handlers had warned her only minutes ago about the consequences of the assassination of Raistlin. I can't believe the Ixa'galers managed that by themselves. she thought. Her superiors had never informed her of the Hajr's implication in the affair- it was a secret known now only to a handful of agents and administrators.
One of her Mujahdeen approached.
"Sarah, Lady, should we join the crowds? They are already mighty- a few of our teams, interspersed, with the few weapons we have left, might make all the difference."
"No, Abriham. There will be no need for that, and we had best lay low. I can only imagine the crackdown the occupation forces will unleash upon the city. We will have no part in it."
"Lady, a dozen other Muhajdin have claimed responsibility for the death of the Satanist-sorcerer. Do you know who is responsible?"
She shook her head. "I don't know. Frankly, I'm in the dark about this. IT is, whoever did it, a great day for the Covenant. Soon, we will be able to walk in the open, bearing our crosses and fighting the invaders, but for now-" She gestured out to the city, now marred by clouds of thick black smoke, "We leave this to run it's course."
A million throats howled- Free Ixa'gal!