- Messages
- 109
- Character Biography
- Link

[cred]
The sky was overcast with dark mists and clouds pregnant with rain. Humidity hung in the air, partly from the large lake beneath the moss-covered ravine. A much larger river must have ran through here centuries ago, but now only a humble river about the verdant greens covered the rock and ground. Not many knew of the smallest of the Isles of Sheketh, called many things depending on what people you asked, but every year it seemed to grow ever greener. The lone volcano on the island was considered dormant, although every generation people would see plumes of smoke dark the skies like the rest of its brethren on the bigger islands.
Solitude’s mask kept her warm breath from steaming out from her mouth in the crisp chill around her as she traveled down to the lone building at the edge of the lake. Large imposing walls of rock and magma kept it well hidden, and with all the fog wafting up, it either took an eagle eye to discern the location of the building or someone who knew where to look to find it.
Solitude happened to be in the latter, but if she did get lost, all she had to do was follow her gut. It had been awhile since she saw her brothers and sisters of the Church, and while it would be a stretch to say she looked forward to seeing them, there was a comfort in being with your own people. Also just happened that it was a comfort to be far away from Cortos and the damn Radiant Church.
Sol wasn’t sure how she kept getting intercepted by those crazed heretics, but the past year, every contract she had taken seemed to have either a Celestial-thirsty bimbo or some yoked-out holy paladin or a sun-worshipping geezer waiting to pounce on her. She supposed it was part of the job, to be nameless and faceless and yet hated in every corner of Arethil. Hated until her services were needed, at least.
The young woman clad in all black swiftly crossed the river and faced the seemingly-abandoned building. The orange shingles were dull and closer to brown than orange. The windows were without glass and the white walls were covered in ash and dust. The shrubbery around it was overgrown and unkempt, with weeds growing between the gnarled roots.
Solitude went through the empty doorframe. The door that had been there the year before had finally fell off from all three of it’s hinges now. Her too-dark shadow loomed before her, mingling with the other shadows in the sunless room. She could hear the whispers if she strained her eyes. With silent steps, Solitude went to the fireplace. She pulled down her mask and bit the pad of her thumb hard. In the soot-stained floor she made the mark of the mother.
A arcane buzz vibrated through the air as the blood sunk into the dark than black wood. Sol pulled her mask back over her face and crawled into fireplace to only fall a short distance down to a even darker place. Her dark vision— thanks be to Mother Meness— kicked in. In the darkness, her thumb healed. Solitude’s booted feet led her through the maze without her having to do much thinking. It was all instinct, which was a good thing. Solitude tended to overthink and second-guess herself into the traps that littered the maze. Like last year when she—

“Welcome, Sister Solitude.” Solitude saw the owner of the voice’s hair before she registered that it was Xasca.
“Still have you on gate duty, huh?” She was careful to step over Xasca’s long white hair. It was rumored he hadn’t cut it for over three-hundred years. It was also rumored if one got tired of life that they would step on his pristine locks.. Xasca said nothing and unsheathed his sword.
“Have you brought a proper offering?” Solitude was thankful her mask could hide her scowl. You bring one bad offering one time and everyone acts like you’re an idiot.
“Yeah, yeah,” From a place behind her, Solitude held up a small burlap sack and shook it around. “Three molars from my highest ranking contracts and three aggayu hearts, for my sister and shadowkin.” Xasca looked down at their sword.
“Your blood is required as well.”
“Obviously.” Solitude stepped towards Xasca, still careful about his spider-silk hair, and dropped the sack in front of him and then gave him her open palm. He first inspected the sack, missing Sol roll her crimson eyes. Without warning, he moved and in the next secon his back was towards her as he raised his crimson-stained steel towards the large, ornate doors behind him. Xasca was quick, Sol didn’t even register the sword slicing her open palm, much less see the elf move. Every year his speed surprised her. She looked down at her palm.
Slowly, the wound began to close.
The gates slowly began to open. Solitude could hear the whispers inside, could feel her sister’s and the shadow-fox Celosia’s excitement. Every year they looked forward for this day. The greasy, oily feeling in Solitude’s gut intensified. A minor discomfort.
But her sister needed to be purged. All their siblings needed to be purged from the light during the brightest month of the year.
When Xasca turned back towards Sol, he handed her back her sack of goodies for the Mother. She took it, and just in case, shook the sack to make sure Xasca hadn’t screwed her over.
“Remember to—“
“Xasca, dude, I know. To the alter, I get it.” Solitude groaned. Xasca’s face was indifferent as he moved aside. He wiped his sword along his white robes, recording another assassin from the Church who had arrived. Solitude moved between the dark doors, impossibly thick and heavy and claustrophobic. Her heart was beating fast in her chest and she walked faster as if the doors would shut and crush her.
When she was through the corridor, a large and wide domed room greeted her.
Obsidian tiled-floors reflected the other assassins that walked upon it while the obsidian pillars seemed to hold up the shadowy ceiling. At the very center of the room was a statue of Mother Meness and her three daughters dancing beneath her feet. Silver light filtering through the highest point of the domed ceiling caused the obsidian art to shine and shimmer like black ice under a moonlit sky. Various round tables stood around the room without rhyme or reason; some held food while others held drinks. Scattered about were a few obsidian benches and chairs, though it seemed few were taking to them right now.
Pale white arcane light from lamps hanging around the wall or pillars caused the darkvision to dissipate slightly. The corners of the room were completely sheathed in a curtain of black, which Solitude supposed was for the shy assassins of the Church.
First thing was first, give her offering to Mother. Then grab some food. She was early this year. The ceremony wouldn’t begin until twilight chased the sun down to the sea.
Surrounding the statue was a series of silver platters with lavender-smelling incense between the platters to keep the scent of decay to a minimum. Solitude opened her sack, pulled out the three molars and placed them on a platter filled with teeth— in between the severed ears and tongues platters- and walked around until she found the hearts platter. She tossed the hearts onto the others, wiping her hand on her pants. Close by, on one of those awkwardly placed tables, was a wash-bowl and a wooden box to keep the seedy burlap sack in.
[Xasca art cred]
Last edited: