ATTACK The People

Sins may be forgiven, but never forgotten

The streets were empty this time of year.

Urchins played in the filth, darting in and out of rubbish piles and discarded machinery.

A steady clomp clomp clomp punctuated the stillness of the air as a shadow grew across the cracked streets.

A gleaming troupe of armored angels marched steadily forward, the flag of The Holy Imperium held high, billowing in the gentle breeze.

Shimmering like a mirage, the archangel leader withdrew his billowing cloak exposing his flawless countenance and gleaming halo. Radiating with unbridled righteousness, Viscount Pardo gazed upon the surroundings dispassionately. The stillness of his gaze did not, for a moment betray the sickness growing in his heart. He could feel the fear rising through the open veins of the pavement, shimmering in the air as his holy legionnaires marched through the desolate expanse of urban decay.

The sinners of this quarter had much to be ashamed of but nothing to hide, he could see them cowering in their homes as easily as he saw his own hand in front of him, they knew the truth of their wickedness was laid bare before his all seeing halo, he could feel their shame and it made him sick.

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