Alexius Vicinius took shelter in his grand estate, holding his wife and daughter close to him.
There was a shake throughout the mansion, another earthquake, a foreshadowing of worse things to come. They took to the balcony, watching the disaster from their glorious home.
The cap of mount Vesuvius blew off, spewing chunks of rock into the city. The massive, burning boulders ripped apart whatever they came across, be it building or man.
Shoals of gentiles rushed to the port, when they found it to be empty, violence and mass panic erupted, like the volcano behind them.
Layers of molten rock flowed into the city; it scorched land, home, and plant indiscriminately, simply a force of nature with no command to stop.
The sea of magma charged forward, bringing edifices down like a slow tidal wave. Vicinius and his family cried together, knowing that their future only held doom.
He could have escaped the disaster along with the other aristocrats, had it not been for Calinus,
who took his stores of gold in a night raid and bribed the prt guards to block him and his family.
The Mediterranean turned red as the common folk pushed the bodies of those they had mutilated and killed into the salty waters.
In their violence, they had ignored Vesuvius, greatest of all destroyers. They were pushed into the water by the magma, and killed when the molten rock entered as well, causing it to boil.
It was a painful, excruciatingly slow demise. Their deaths had not been in vain, it seemed, as the city diverted the flow of lava away from the estates.
Vicinius and his family rejoiced, but then grimaced as another earthquake shook the earth to its core.
The worst had just now arrived. A cape of blazing ash covered the sky, turning day into night. It descended quickly and maliciously, like a flock of harpies hunting newfound prey.
The ash blanketed the town and its civilians, including Vicinius and his family. In the end, they were merged together, united by the solidified ash, in the appearance of some sorrowful statue.