In an age far from now, stood a city. In her were royalties of glamour and gold, maidens of radiance and beauty, knights of oath and honour, and gladiators of blood and glory.
In her were love and hate, and death and birth.
This beautiful city neighboured a mountain, Vesuvius, natures nightmare of stone and liquid flame. In jealousy and disdain, this neighbour steamed, breeding a malice, one of flame and fury.
And on a day like no other, this malice was born. Vesuvius, towering over the city, spoke, and from its mouth came forth fire and Ash, one that blotted the sun.
The heavens rained fiery stones, like comets to once again clean the slate. The earth rumbled, and towers and stone structures crumbled to rubble.
Sea tide high as mountain heights arose, sinking vessels of might into the lowest of heights, crashing city walls and drowning merry halls.
Liquid flame flowed like stream, pealing flesh from bone and turning all to stone.
Oh…. the ceaseless wails, that the gods remained silent to.
In the end, there was only fire and Ash.
The final moments of the city of Pompeii.