The Great Beast Tiamat's Shadow has become predominantly larger against the horizon these past few weeks. Predictions are made that it is heading for Constantinople, but will have to cross Caesarea first. Preparations are made to defend the city, and hopefully stop it in it's tracks there.

General Lucius Aprenos Defends the city with a Thousand Veteran Arab Mercenaries. Alongside Pyotrt Loria, he is placed in charge of defending the streets and pushing and the Beast back. Aprenos seems to have spent time getting to know his men, as they all respect him as if they would a Hero, and the General is positively glowing with Charisma. Loria on the other hand is just Glowing, a shimmering white halo radiating his head, the City army at his command also more alert, positive and morale-boosted than they might be usually. With chants, the defending armies gather around the city…

The Great Shadow Blocks out the sun for hours. It's size is disconcerting as it is unclear how close the ginormous flesh being is. Finally, without any precedence but it's great majesty of terror, the thing begins to cast a shadow over the city. Slowly, Caesarea is encircled by darkness, as the great Flesh Star half-crawls, half-flies over the city. Suddenly it stops, a creeping terror lurking just behind the silence. Then a scream. And from the beast pours a billion spawn, all flesh and bone and tooth and claw and maw. They sweep through teh streets like water, like Pirahna. Dozens of citizens are dead in seconds…

With a final prayer from Bishop Giannopoulis upon the Cathedral's steps, the Orthodox armies pour forward, blades out into the Monstrous horde. The Beasts stand no chance, crushed under Aprenos' might, Loria's will. But they keep pouring forth from the Beast's five mouthes…

A cheer is made amongst the screams as the presence of the newly arrived Catholics is acknowledged. Brothers Ambrose and Donatien, and the Scholar Jacob. Instead of joing the fight, they all fall to their knees in prayer alongside Bishop Giannopoulis. Donatien appraises a sword within a cloth covering. Ambrose chants over his cross, a Golden Light in the air above him. Strangest Jacob begins chanting old, weird words, a perfect old blade laid out in front of him. Soon, flames rise from the weapon…

A light inside you begins to burn white… more intense than you have ever felt…

With a loud trumpetting, signalling another cheer, A colossal red-eyed, jet-black elephant, huge swan-wings where it's ears should be, descends into the fray. Upon it's back, taking calculated shots at the larger airborn monstrosities, looking modestly perturbed about his mode of transport, Augusti Alexios. Spiralling toa point directly under the centre of teh Great Beast, the Elephant addresses a terrified and confused population, “arms” crossed:

“Humanity made it's call and it was the Shai'tan who answered, remember this day as the day that the armies of darkness came from behind the veil, and stuck forth at the enemies of humanity. Where are the Djinn and invokers of the other courts, those who belittle us just for wanting our independence, wishing to deal with man on our own terms? So I ask you to remember who it was that came to you aid. Me and my brother, for today we fight alongside humanity against the foes that seek to eradicate them. Today we figh–”

At this moment, Brother Ambrose's chant becomes deafening, and in a glowing circle of Bronze above him, the air warps and colossal pair of doors burst open, a hundred flaming angels pouring into the air. At their head, Ophanim, wings cloaked in golden flame, points at the Beast:

“IT'S NOT SATAN, BUT IT MAY AS WELL BE! IN THE NAME OF THE BIG HOLY CHAP, VINDICATE!”

A heavenly trumpetting sounds from nowhere in particular, several angels drawing trumpets seconds too alte to join in, many knocking their halos off. As one, they pour upwards into the Beast.

The elephant, it's resolve lost, face palms, and with a hand gesture, calls forth shapes from Tiamat's shadow. Humanoid figures, bound on delicate wings, cruel blades and claws in hand. Mingling with the Bronze Angels, they strike Tiamat as one flaming shadowy mass, tearing through it…

The angels tear through the mass, and there is a great cheer as the Beast slumps, falling backwards. However, strangeness begins. Its mouths stop producing young, and begin snickering and snackering, a child's voice singing along to an inaudible tune. The flesh ripples and churns, tearing, reshaping. In moments, Tiamat is a true beast. 5 blind lizardine heads. It's four limbs and tail still making a star-shape. Colossal membranous wings spread. Tiamat, mother of Dragons has returned. It's tail lifts, and witha screeching roar, a thousand new young take to the air, green liquid flames issuing forth from the mouthes. The acidic liquid plague washes over the streets, many burnt alive or reduced to piles of rotting sinew. But Aprenos and Loria strike forward, Aprenos relishing his might smiting the Beasts, Loria almost beaming with the thrill of slaying another dragon, or a hundred. The City's Army seems strangely unaffected, beaming witha silver light, marching through the poison fires. The Courts of Shadow and Brass re-meet in mid air and descend on the deadly draconine swarms.

Just as the situation looks hopeless, with a great roar, an army pours in from the South. Two thousand strong, mounted on Ponies. At their head, with a cry of “HOJOUM!”, Al-Afdal, Emir of Damascus, leads the charge, firing a gleaming arrow into the air. It tears through at least a dozen Dragons seamlessly, their carcasses rotting and disintegrating into nothing as they fall. Most impressive amongst the Damascan army however, sailing with the ease that should only be attained through water, a great wooden ship, huge white wing-like sails flapping in the wind, many large bows manned by whooping Bedouin firing into the sky. At it's centre, ropes tied around stoney-wrist, piloting the vessel with ease, a whooping and celebrant Rasha Al-Nazihah. At either side of her, her brothers Siddig and Zafir, bows in hands. At the ship's front, a portly Arab glowing with a white light, spear in hand, chanting in a strange tongue.

With a victory trumpet, Alexios astride his shadow elephant climbs into the air, and fires an arrow into a huge fleshy nodule in one of the Beasts many mouthes. With pain or nuisance, it roars. With a laugh, Loxos dives into the snapping jaw. Moments pass, the maw opening, roaring in triumph. There is no elephant, no Loxos…

Your plan is successful. Tiamat swallows Loxos and Nizam, the duo pouring down the beast's gullet. But this is wear many of the spawn come from. The walls are alive with every form of shapeless flesh monstrosity. Arrow and shadowy claws and tendrils tear into the things. Minutes pass, until teh great cavern of Tiamat's chest awaits. It is strange, more like a building than a body. Thousands, millions of dead, all bones and black ichor spill over on the surface. From the walls, a thousand tearing tendrils and arms, short work for Nizam's bulk, but continuously rebirthed. in the centre, a collosal , multi-facetted glowing sphere, great tubes and chains reaching into teh ichor and ceiling - Tiamat's heart. Nizam touches down, turning and blasting teh coming swarms of flesh-spawn. Loxos cheers, heaving the two huge glass vials filled with Simeon's fire - enough to drown a city in flames. Loxos prepares to break to throw the huge bombs - easy for one of his physical prowess. “God!”, He shouts, “Light our darkest hour!” A sudden movement. A scream. Nizam calls for Loxos, distracted by the beasts taht flock around him. Loxos rolls across the flesh island, stopping by the edge, his arm and chest a ruin. The vials thump harmlessly to the fleshy ground. A figure turns from behind the heart, smiling wickedly…

Something is wrong with the Arab Zafir, who screams in pain, his eyes furious red points of light, his black blade tearing through all in his way, cutting a swathe towards Tiamat's nearest Claw…

The Angels and Shadows of The Courts flock towards the mouthes, Ophanim and a disembodied grey cloak leading teh charge. The blind mouthes snap wildly, missing, useless. Flaming bows and blades, black claws and tendrils strike the heads, wounds healing almost instantly. The Cloak tears at the beast witha hundred jet balck spears pouring out from amongst it's folds. Ophanim projects abeam of intense heat from his hands, proclaiming his belief in the Holy Goat. As one, teh maws snap open - hundred thousand fleshy lashes tear into the Djinn, a third or so disappearing in pained clouds of flame and dark. the cloak thing is torn asunder. Ophanim spirals to the ground, his strap-on wings ragged, shouting “STEADY ON!”. On the ground, Ambrose shakes his head, Ophanim crashing to his side, halo in hand. “Even the Angels of the host are little match against that which is nought but muscle. But there is still hope…” Ambrose stares at Jacob, shakinga nd glowing…

Loxos drags himself to his feet, Nizam still holding back the clawed fiends with a barrier of pure black. Loxos spies his attacker, and swears, biblically.

“One last time”, whispers Andronikos, nothing more than another flesh-spawnling, approximatinga blind emperor's naked form, holes for eyes, right arm ending in a savage blade, “Lucius threw my remains to the mother… I am reborn… as one of hers'… but trapped… now I have company… and I can finish what I started… Join with me Alexios… here we can control Gura's first, Tiamat… through pain and strategy… touch the heart… it is also her mind… we can rule… everything…”

A raging scream, Loxos buries his blade to the hilt in Andronikos' chest. “NO! YOU STARTED THIS, MADE ME WHAT I AM! WITNESS WHAT I HAVE BECOME! THIS ENDS HERE!”

Andronikos merely laughs, reedy and almost silent. His blade arm cuts again, repeatedly into Loxos' chest. “I no longer feel pain Alexios… only pleasure… how do you suppose you will deal with that?”

Loxos smiles, “It's not you I'm here to hurt… it's your mother”. With a great throw, he casts the inhuman Andronikos into teh heart. A great screaming roar from all around. Nizam's fleshling opposition rally in pain and drop from the air, more soon replacing the lost. The whole flesh hall shudders…

Suddenly, as if wounded by some invisible blade, the Dragon roars in pain, collapsing. Another triumphant cheer, once again ending in swears of disbelief as it changes once more. Now humanoid, rotund yet voluptuous, proportioned like strange ancient fertility statues,a single blind five mouthed face upon mountains of rolling flesh. A dozen arms tear and birth on each side, dancing to some strange beat. Instead of legs, a thousand thick tentacles mix and bleed into each other. The city is swamped in both the flesh of the Beast's legs and it's new spawn, now shapeless but colossal, absorbing and crushing that which gets in their way.

Loria, Aprenos and Al-Afdal gather at the Cathedral, their forces driven back. The Holy building is filled with the thousands of survivors and rallied. Bishop Giannopoulis, Ambrose and Donatien tend to the sick. Ophanim watches over the prone Jacob, now positively radiant, his clothing spattered with blood and burn marks.

“Even my faith has it's limits” whispers Aprenos to Pyotr “It cannot be killed. Every wound is removed instantly. It must instead be trapped, buried, like the Babylonians did…”

“A LITTLE MORE PATIENCE STRANGE LITTLE GENERAL PERSON” roars Ophanim, his wings mended with string, “HE IS ALMOST WITH US ONCE MORE.” The gathered all stare at Jacob. As if by magical timing, he roars in pain, and a burning white light fills the cathedral…

The glow dies down. All look where Jacob sat. Ashes and bones. But above him… white and divine… an angel, blue-white wings, blue and red flaming sword. An angel with Jacob's face.

“Jacob?” asks Donatien, kneeling.

“NO.” Begins Ophanim “THE ANGEL DINOSAURUS”

Jacob-Angel raises an eyebrow. “Sauriel. Gatherer of Words and Voices. Which explains why I knew so much… bar my past… ”

Ambrose smiles to Donatien, patting a forlorn Ophanim on the shoulder “He tries so hard… he gets so far…”

Pyotr joins Donatien in kneeling, but continues, prostrating himself in full. Then Al-Afdal. And Ambrose. And Giannopoulis. And Ophanim. And Aprenos. And soon the entire Cathedral. JacobSauriel looks impatient.

“I don't have time for this now. None of us do. But I remember. I know how to kill Tiamat…”

A scream of despair emanates from the city's battle field, under Tiamat's writhing shadow. It is heart felt and angered. It strikes in your heart, and is suddenly silenced…

A Voice replaces the Despair. It is deep and gentle, melodic and… angelic. It is that of Jacob of Jerusalem. Or what was once Jacob. “Tiamat is no living being like you or I, but a prototype for life to come. She is nought but mouthes - both for birthing and biting - and flesh for spawning her childer. Within her mouthes are not tongues but clusters of emotion, like those found within a woman's most… err… precious place. And these are linked to her life, her very being - a heart encompassing nothing but the need to breed and spread, a dark glowing desire to destroy through life's touch. Right now, Alexios of Constantinople and Nizam-Ata of The shadows fight within it's heart, and spread flame to kill it, but the flame will not spread if the body does not want it - through the machinations of Andronikos, Tiamat is as much a child of Flesh as Emotion. So it is simple: Strike the mouthes, you five of blade: Lucius, Pyotr, Zafir, Al-Afdal and Ambrose through Ophanim. That will… stimulate the heart, which loxos will burn, which will pain the mother, revealing it's true weakness - where Enkidu once slew the beast before: it's eyes. Now just abysses, they represent it's dark intentions, it's lack of a Soul. Into this I will pour the will of God, and The Wielder of Gilgamesh's Will shall channel forth his rage. We can win. We can stop the darkness. For the Creator!”

Loria, Al-Afdal and Aprenos rally their forces, and charge the Beast, calling to God. Ambrose calls forth the Angel Ophanim to gather the Fire and Darkness Djinn to pressure the Beast low, which Ophanim does beaming with a great salute. Giannapoulis, Donatien and Ambrose wish JacobSauriel Godspeed, as he takes to the air, flaming sword in tow, the Cathedral and populace now in their capable hands…

The Djinn assault Tiamat, columns of flame and dark pushing it down, forcing it's head to the ground. Tentacles rush to the sky, but the Courts are learned, dodging the tearing whips. The armies push forth, the Caesarean Militia prevalent and unharmed. It's babbling huge mouths near the ground, the assailing begins. Ophanim swoops first, manifesting a huge firey spear, stabbing it into the bulbous mouth growth in the centre maw. Loria is next, tearing into the second while preaching verse. Aprenos, still aglow, hauls himself and Alfdal up onto the Mother's rolling chins: Lucius calls for Byzantium's glory, sword plunging, While Al-Afdal unleashes three arrows into the now burning maw. Finally, followed by a panting, strangely glowing Siddig, Zafir leaps into the final mouth, ordanairy steel scimitar gleaming. As one, all mouthes screech, impained it's form quaking…

Andronikos rises, his nebulous eyes staring hate. With but a gesture, the floor writhes, cutting lashes whipping at Loxos, binding him to the ground. Nizam falters, tar-like sweat pouring down his elephantine brow, his shadowy barrier forced back by the infinite amassed spawnlings. Both Andronikos arms form scythed blades, rising above Loxos.

“Until all are one… in the void…” Smiles Andronikos

A quake. A scream. A tearing. The Floor writhes in pain. Andronikos looks confused. The whips weaken. Loxos grabs both vials and charges Andronikos. Nizams creatures scream and fall once more into the ichor.

“TIL ALL ARE THIS!” Loxos screams. The vials soar through the air. They connect Andronikos, but do not shatter, lifting Andronikos off his feet. All three crash into the Heart. Andronikos' face is horror as he spies the cracks spreading in teh glass, volatile orange liquid fizzing…

Nizam grabs Loxos and takes flight, Orange flames consuming all behind them. Up the gullet…

The Scream of pain becomes Agony. Al-Afdal crioes a warning, smelling the air: FIRE! All at teh mouthes jump to safety as volatile Alchemical flames shoot out the mouthes, but not before a cheering Loxos upon frowning winged Black Pachyderm. Tiamat's form quakes, bubbling flames bursting through tears. Then the eyes open. Two huge black, bleeding holes on the side of Tiamat's head, leaking black ichor.

“NOW!” calls Jacob Sauriel, diving, flaming sword out…

Zafir nods to Siddig, who shakes his head before the great wound, an ethereal glowing spear in his hand.

“Divinity, I can't stand” he spits, “but heroics… I can deal with. For now!”

With a great throw, the spear leaves his hand, the glow travelling with it. JacobSauriel plunges his word in.

A single deafening screech, a child's voice from within the bursting flesh mass. “MOTHER!”

The white light fades. There is no black ichor, no corpse. Caeserea still stands, minimal ruins and casualties (Even all the City Army still stand…). But everywhere is covered in a thick layer of falling, and growing wild flowers. It is a sight to behold…

The Governor of Caesarea gives a laurel to all those involved in the defense of the city, and all are proclaimed “Guardians of Caeserea”, and are welcome friends of Byzantium. Alexios drinks to this, promoting cheering from all. Apparently only 300 or so are dead, thanks to the valiant efforts of the Faithful.

However, The Governor continues, proclaiming that the Al-Nazihah clan and their Trade Caravan are banned from the city following two of their number going on a “slaughtering spree only to be expected from savage brown-skins”. Despite a tactful, if enraged proclamation from Al-Afdal, Siddig steps forward, willing to take things into his own hands. Moments later, rasha and Zafir are pullinga crying, screaming Siddig away from the Governor, who lies in a slump, hands on his crotch.