(OOC) --> Mon Mar 23 1998 06:24 PM by "Malachi" at "Holodeck 1"

A small brown bat breathes heavily as she perches atop the remnants of a tall stone statue, its wings broken and scattered about its feet. Below her, a crowd surges and whirls about, as much in the air as on the ground. Her voice has a raspy, raw quality born of hours of singing and shouting over the myriad voices of more Eeee than she thought existed on Sinai. "… Our sons and daughters have died so that his pride may be sated, our blood spilled so he may feel content! How long must we tolerate this?! How long until we rise up and take him from his throne?!"

Among the multitude of faces in the crowd, there are a few that are familiar … some until very recently 'employed' by the Palace, and having gotten to know Brishen during her brief stay – Sunrise is among them, punching a fist into the air and getting into the mood, squeaking at the top of her voice, "Down with the Sabaoth!" It's pretty much lost, in the sounds, but echoed a few times over as well. The City of Strife is especially lacking in peace this day. The triumphant return of the Plaguebringers that has been expected has never come. Instead, rumors have passed about that Rephidim has been relatively untouched … and that the Sabaoth's great force has been annihilated … or, perhaps even worse, routed and driven to retreat.

Over the skyline of the city, the Tower looms, an ever-present reminder of the Sabaoth's power. But now that the Tower's 'secret' has been revealed to even the least of Babel's citizens, and word has gotten about that these ancient weapons may have utterly failed … the reminder is a mixed one.

Brishen looks down from her perch, one foot resting on the scarred head of the Sabaoth himself, or at least his likeness, one foot on a pitted shoulder. "Sons and daughters of Babel, the Sabaoth has cast the Plaguebearers against distant Rephidim – Not to protect us, not to render honor upon us, but to bloat his own pride! He feeds on us!" She turns to point, not at the Tower, but to the Sabaoth's Palace, a bright scarf fluttering behind her, "He lives there in opulence, feasting on our blood, our laughter!"

The attention of the crowd shifts toward the Palace. A few even make purely symbolic gestures of throwing various items of refuse in the direction of the Palace, though, of course, there's not a chance an Eeee could throw anything that far.

Brishen's voice grows sharp, "How many of you have friends who've been taken by the Sabaoth's soldiers? How many have you seen cast into prison for words spoken that were not in his favor?"

More shouts rise from the crowd, a cacophony of angry exclamations and squeaks.

"It must stop now! There is no excuse – No cause – No right he has to imprison us." Her eyes are wide, furious as she wrenches a battered chitin sword from where it had lodged against the statue's arm. Her wings spread as for a moment she holds the sword high, then brings it down against the statue's face with a sharp crack! "Now is our time. Time to take back our city from those who would destroy it!"

The blade shatters, raining pieces of chitin down the face and toward the base, glittering as they catch the late afternoon sun in their tumbling and sliding descent. Amidst the multitudes of shouts, a chant begins to build volume… "It must stop now! It must stop now! It must stop now!"

Brishen brushes a lock of hair from her eyes, a dangerous smile creeping across her face. Then, she turns and points to the Palace once more. "There." Her voice grows in strength, rising over the crowd below as she shouts, "And then we open the gates of the prisons wide, and let our city free!"

With a sound like a muted thunderclap, myriad Eeee wings blast the air, as the crowd takes off in a great angered swarm toward the Palace!

Amidst the crowd, flashes of bright fabric show where the courier, so distant from her home, flies, still shouting. In the back of her mind, she knows though that one angry crowd is not enough to storm the Palace. There must be more. Dark brown eyes look to the city below.

True enough, there are more. The Palace is no example of royal serenity and power in the least, but a sign of tumult, as other angry citizens have converged on this very visible target. Many have been wounded – and killed – in the clashes, but the Palace guard, it would appear, has been completely overwhelmed by sheer force of number … and perhaps even some dissent within its own ranks.

Alas, many of the rioters are simply looting the Palace. Others are venting their frustrations upon the Sabaoth's trappings of wealth. Here and there, others like Brishen have found perches, boldly proclaiming their opposition to the old order, to the status quo that has stood immovable for centuries.

Brishen perches in the remnants of a burning garden, her eyes reflecting sullen flames as she snatches a sword from where several have fallen to the ground. Then, she takes a deep breath and throws herself into the sky, landing a short time later at the edge of a familiar garden. Hopefully enough of the crowd has followed her.

The waterfall still flows, though bits of debris float along the channels, to cascade over the side and disappear into mists – and smoke – far below.

It would seem that several bats have either followed Brishen … or simply have the fate of being in the same place as her, since there are plenty of Eeee to go around.

Brishen takes a deep breath, wings fluttering as she perches on a statue overlooking the waterfall. "Sons and daughters of Babel!" Her sword, glistening with water is raised over her head. "Now is the time to strike – Now, the time to take back our city, and our freedom! To cast the Sabaoth from his throne within!"

Many Eeee fly toward Brishen. If she wants to lead a crowd, now all she has to do is … lead.

Brishen takes a deep breath. This is it… And with that thought she turns and darts within a familiar doorway, through halls she walked a dozen times since she came to Babel. But now – So much different. Her eyes are wide, her wings tucked close as she listens for the sounds of soldiers.

Into the palace, the young courier goes with the many strangers who are of like mind in their desire to change Babel forever. Each corner brings the threat of some opposition … but it never comes. Occasionally, they happen upon a few Eeee that have ventured further into the palace, destroying, looting, or simply searching … and some even join her number. At last, they enter a larger chamber before reaching the inner sanctums … and, behold, the Sabaoth is there … stubbornly sitting on his throne to the last, his personal guards having either fled, or having died in the melee outside. Members of the Sabaoth's harem cower in nooks and crannies about the stone chamber, and a single bard sits on a raised dais in the center of the chamber, blithely playing a melody that barely competes with the sounds of chaos outside … and the noise of the newly-entering party.

Brishen lands heavily near a statue, behind which a girl not much younger than she is huddled. Dark brown eyes lock with frightened green for a moment, and then Bree turns to the Sabaoth. As she walks, the tip of her sword drags along the floor, more from her own fatigue, than for dramatic effect. "Your time is over," she squeaks, her voice dark and very tired.