Hand of Invictus

Invictus stood before his sister sun blade in hand! "Sister, do not tread on the will of my creations, for they are free of will, even if cruel in heart! I weep for your followers, and will scorn the souls of their abusers, but you must not take your rage upon them! The consequences of the father returning will mean destruction for us both!" The creature that was once Paga, Invctus' dear sister looked upon him with disgust. "Vengence must be paid brother, it is the oath you forced upon me when i was created. Lo, do you defy your own nature? You're own law and rule? Are you so scared of the father you have joined him in accursed hypocrisy. If you stand such by your faithful, then you will die by them aswell." According to the first of Sol, no more words were exchanged. The two engaged in glorious battle that blinded and deafened the prophet. Unborn children died in their mothers wombs, storms raged, earthquakes shook, and violence over took the land. Such is the process of fighting gods. The duel ended with Invictus' hand severed, but Paga dead. The fallen goddess was clever, wanting to not leave her revenge incomplete hid the hand from gods light, where it waits eternally. If the god is not whole, he cannot be at power.
Timaeus stood behind Yarn, as they entered through the mural gates. The city of horrors was behind them, and hopefully The Child was as well. The massive doors described the scene that they had learn of, the destruction of pagan's pass, and the punishment born upon its residents. The temple was pillared and was full decayed statues, and rotten tapestries. Directly ahead of them was a hand, easily the size of Timmy, that radiated rightness. Marcos, the marksmen moved to the right taking cover behind the first pillar, as Melvin prepared his bombs. Timmy felt foolish to be with such a group, but these misfits were home to him. These harden warriors froze as soft crying echoed in the temple halls. Timmy stayed in Yarn's shadow as they moved toward to hand, and the crying. The source was a child, who skin smoldered as if still burning. He sat in the corner starering at us with horrified eyes. As we admired the hand a voice whispered into Timmy's mind, telling them that destroying the hand would release the child from his torment. The adults discussed, tempted to do what the voiced asked, but Timmy objected. Unfortunately these men were heathens, or poor Slites, and did not heed Timmy's working in voice. The scoundrels, blessed by invictus took both and ran. They could not move quickly, for their souls were not pure, but I was able to take the burden, as we ran from the city. Sol guided us that day, and chose me to become its vessel.