02-11-2014, 10:57 PM
Hasan passed through the flames that licked around him, but protected as he was by the gift of God's almighty power it could not touch him. He found he could see the demon's own weaves much like his own as they emanated from him. With eyes set on the devil, he strode forward as he sent out weaves of his own. Air and water, a twist on the shielding that protected him, and sent them at the fire. Nothing was so powerful that it could withstand the righteous power of Allah.
The roar of God was in his ears, threatening to strip his soul bare and crush his skull, so fierce in its pure might that Hasan barely noticed the muffled explosions as the flames winked out. The devil and his henchmen were fleeing, it seemed, the last pair of them turning to leave -- the devil holding the door as the other raised a hand to throw one final grenade. Was the devil waving to him as if to mock God's power?
"Witness the awesome power of God, you pitiful demon!"
Hasan reached out with mighty fists of Air, gripped the grenade thrower's head in the weave, and crushed the man's skull.
The grenade fell, spoon flying, and bounced back toward the crowd. That forced Hasan to break his gaze from the jinn as he sought to track its movement before it blew. But before Hasan could reach out with another weave of Air to trap the blast, one of the faithful jumped on it. The device exploded, reducing his midsection to a spray of blood and ground flesh -- but preventing the blast and shrapnel from wreaking even more carnage in the confined prayer hall. Hasan cursed the demons and muttered a prayer for the man, that God would grant his entrance to Paradise for his sacrifice, however unnecessary it had been.
Hasan stepped toward the doors to pursue the jinn and his lackeys. It was then that he became aware of the screams of the injured and the dying. The once-fine simple green rug was smoking and stained dark red with splattered blood. He looked around. Dozens, maybe hundreds dead and injured. The hall had been packed before the attack. Just by his foot a young man with brown hair and a bloody face cried out for help. Burns down the side of his body and blood spurting from his shoulder, he fought consciousness as he gripped what was left of his son's leg in an attempt to staunch the bleeding from where shrapnel had taken it off at the knee. The effort would be futile; the child would still bleed out even if he was the first to be seen at the emergency department right across the street, and the father was sacrificing what precious few minutes he had before he himself was too far gone in the attempt to buy his son enough time.
And it just occurred to Hasan that most of the Medical City was...here
. Students, faculty, doctors, paramedics...all among the dead and wounded. How much time will it take to get an organized emergency response together?
Curse those devils!
Hasan knelt and asked God to bestow His mercy on the two. He stretched out his hands and pulled the man's hands away from the child. "Be still,"
he said to the father as the man cried in anguish. "Almighty God shows his everlasting mercy to those who trust in him."
He gripped the child's head in both hands and felt the Keramat work through his body and flow into the child. The now-familiar weaves, Air, Water and the very essence of the spirit, flowed into the child. It was beyond Hasan to restore the missing limb -- he'd tried to do so before, for whatever reason Allah did not allow his gift to work that way -- but when he removed his hands the stump ended not in ragged bone and torn muscle and sinew but in smooth, unbroken skin.
The child's father stared, mouth agape in wordless wonder. Hasan touched the man's face and stopped his bleeding as well. "You will both need to rest, and eat shortly,"
he said.
Hasan stood and turned without waiting for an answer. The two might still die. It seemed from Hasan's experience that healing took a great deal of strength, as if God required something to be given from the recipient. That was proper, no gift from God should be accepted without a pure and open offering of the self. The same was true of Hasan and his gifts. It took a great deal of strength to effect such miracles. Hasan already could feel the weariness seep into his bones.
Another fireball erupted, this time from the dead henchman. If there was any doubt these creatures were of Shaytan, that ended any speculation. These creatures' lackeys burned in fire on their death! Such was the price for any who followed the devil, eternal fire upon their body and souls. And even in death they sought to wreak more havoc. Hasan reached out with the Keramat to quench the flames. The cries, oh...the horrid screams for mercy continued!
"Any doctors, nurses or parmedics not injured come over here..."
Hasan began to bring order to the chaos. Pursuit would have to wait. His little remaining strength was needed to help those who still could still be helped but would not last until a medical response team could be put together. They'd earned it.
The roar of God was in his ears, threatening to strip his soul bare and crush his skull, so fierce in its pure might that Hasan barely noticed the muffled explosions as the flames winked out. The devil and his henchmen were fleeing, it seemed, the last pair of them turning to leave -- the devil holding the door as the other raised a hand to throw one final grenade. Was the devil waving to him as if to mock God's power?
"Witness the awesome power of God, you pitiful demon!"
Hasan reached out with mighty fists of Air, gripped the grenade thrower's head in the weave, and crushed the man's skull.
The grenade fell, spoon flying, and bounced back toward the crowd. That forced Hasan to break his gaze from the jinn as he sought to track its movement before it blew. But before Hasan could reach out with another weave of Air to trap the blast, one of the faithful jumped on it. The device exploded, reducing his midsection to a spray of blood and ground flesh -- but preventing the blast and shrapnel from wreaking even more carnage in the confined prayer hall. Hasan cursed the demons and muttered a prayer for the man, that God would grant his entrance to Paradise for his sacrifice, however unnecessary it had been.
Hasan stepped toward the doors to pursue the jinn and his lackeys. It was then that he became aware of the screams of the injured and the dying. The once-fine simple green rug was smoking and stained dark red with splattered blood. He looked around. Dozens, maybe hundreds dead and injured. The hall had been packed before the attack. Just by his foot a young man with brown hair and a bloody face cried out for help. Burns down the side of his body and blood spurting from his shoulder, he fought consciousness as he gripped what was left of his son's leg in an attempt to staunch the bleeding from where shrapnel had taken it off at the knee. The effort would be futile; the child would still bleed out even if he was the first to be seen at the emergency department right across the street, and the father was sacrificing what precious few minutes he had before he himself was too far gone in the attempt to buy his son enough time.
And it just occurred to Hasan that most of the Medical City was...here
. Students, faculty, doctors, paramedics...all among the dead and wounded. How much time will it take to get an organized emergency response together?
Curse those devils!
Hasan knelt and asked God to bestow His mercy on the two. He stretched out his hands and pulled the man's hands away from the child. "Be still,"
he said to the father as the man cried in anguish. "Almighty God shows his everlasting mercy to those who trust in him."
He gripped the child's head in both hands and felt the Keramat work through his body and flow into the child. The now-familiar weaves, Air, Water and the very essence of the spirit, flowed into the child. It was beyond Hasan to restore the missing limb -- he'd tried to do so before, for whatever reason Allah did not allow his gift to work that way -- but when he removed his hands the stump ended not in ragged bone and torn muscle and sinew but in smooth, unbroken skin.
The child's father stared, mouth agape in wordless wonder. Hasan touched the man's face and stopped his bleeding as well. "You will both need to rest, and eat shortly,"
he said.
Hasan stood and turned without waiting for an answer. The two might still die. It seemed from Hasan's experience that healing took a great deal of strength, as if God required something to be given from the recipient. That was proper, no gift from God should be accepted without a pure and open offering of the self. The same was true of Hasan and his gifts. It took a great deal of strength to effect such miracles. Hasan already could feel the weariness seep into his bones.
Another fireball erupted, this time from the dead henchman. If there was any doubt these creatures were of Shaytan, that ended any speculation. These creatures' lackeys burned in fire on their death! Such was the price for any who followed the devil, eternal fire upon their body and souls. And even in death they sought to wreak more havoc. Hasan reached out with the Keramat to quench the flames. The cries, oh...the horrid screams for mercy continued!
"Any doctors, nurses or parmedics not injured come over here..."
Hasan began to bring order to the chaos. Pursuit would have to wait. His little remaining strength was needed to help those who still could still be helped but would not last until a medical response team could be put together. They'd earned it.