Private Tales Lament of the Lambs

[Diaz]

Free City of Harkoth, South Western tip of Sheketh, at the mouth of the Ixchel Strait

---

Tall were the pillars that stood about them. The arches spread wide and sturdy across a span of ground that they had been told was consecrated. Protected by the Mother. Protected by the shadows of her Daughters Three. Their blessings of blood dotted across the ground.

It always involved blood. Blood, and shadow.

So said Father Lament. Shaded 'neath the brim of his tricorn hat, his grey beard straggled and wiry. A dark tower of flesh and bone that cut through the dust and detritus that littered the hollowed sight.

A church. Long abandoned by its clergy.

The priest's mouth split open. A grin full of big teeth. Long and bright with the dim light of night that filtered in through windows and painted the room in midnight gloom. "We are close," his voice was like curling smoke.

Behind the frame of darkness that was the priest, Diaz walked. His eyes scanned the room about them, and saw clear all the clutter and waste that had piled up in heaps and mounds. Shapes like bodies. Like skeletons, come huddled to their resting place. Old flesh. Withered and dry.

"People just, come here to die?" He asked, voice tight with something like disappointment.

"Old stone, gives its cold comfort," the priest spoke as he stepped on. "Our Mother's embrace, is refuge enough from the harrows of the greater world," his boots knocked hollow against the stone floor. A bone, kicked and set to skate across with scratches and scrapes. "Hunger, exhaustion, the cold grip of fear about the pit of our stomachs," he only smiled wider. "All come to pass within the folds of Her shadows,"

Diaz' eyes narrowed, and he did not look to the tower that marched on before him.

"Even the heretic, seeks to end his suffering here, within our Mother's hold," he stopped. Drew in full and eager breath. "Worry not, Brother Rincon," his voice grew hotter, and he raised his arms up before the shadows, wide in their invitation. "Lament! And know your peace comes fast!" he shouted out to the darkness.

Diaz watched, wide eyed with grimace. His hand tight about the hilt of his blade.

---

Solitude

 

[Solitude]

Father Lament was so not cool. Solitude had always called him Father Lame in her mind, never daring to say the actual words to the priest who could end her with one curse. As the young assassin of the Caliginous Church trudged after the man, keeping a step or two in front of Diaz in case some creepy-crawly came from behind them, all she could think about how she would kill for massive pair of tits. She had had a mission a week ago that she had just barely recovered from because she was flat chested and Sister Hope had huge knockers so all she had to do was seduce the politician while Solitude had to focus on keeping his guards away from the room.

She had hoped for a hourglass figure and all she had received was inches added to her height. Why did Hope get all the growth where Solitude had hoped for? It was hopeless, at this age, if she didn’t have any now then she wasn’t going to have any in the future.

Pay attention, Celosia chided her. It’s dangerous here.

It’s dangerous everywhere I go.

Because you suck and care little for life.

I wouldn’t say that. Solitude paused. She cared very much for her life. She didn’t want to die just yet. It’s just life that wants me dead.

Maybe if you didn’t slack on your prayers… Solitude rolled her eyes, already tuning Celosia out. She wasn’t sure what was worse, Rosario or Celosia when it came to their lectures, as if they needed to remind her that she shouldn’t be the one alive. Despite the fox correcting Solitude on everything she has ever done wrong since their union— as if she didn’t stay up late at night remembering how cringe she was— there was still a ever permeating silence that came from the assassin, even if she was the worse of the three here.

“Father Lament acting a lil funny to you?” She whispered to Diaz.

Diaz

 

[Diaz]

Heel fall, after heel fall. Father Lament's march went on. The clip, clip, clip of each stride sure as the last. His eyes never looked to the young assassins under his purvey.

"We are but blades, come to sheer the wool," his long teeth gleamed. Pointed and hungry. "Let the blind see, Rincon, Yes," A shake of laughter, did jostle his bones. Wide shoulders made to bounce. "Let them bare witness to the truth that doth hide there in the shadows!" He shout out with glee.

Diaz eyes stared wide at the dark frame of the Father before them. His mind raced across verse and text. His ears remembered voice that did speak the word of their mother. "We," he stammered. "He is just, speaking the mother's truth," Diaz tried upon his tongue. Bet felt the words wrong along his voice.

"Solitude, Diaz," the hatted Father said sharp. "Go, forward, flush out this dog, that dare hide beneath our Mother's skirt's,"

Fingers went tight around the bound hilt of worn cord. The weight of his sword, a paltry measure of comfort. With that, he could wound. Draw blood. Hurt. In hopes of not hurting.

Diaz jerked his head forward to his fellow assassin. And stepped into the shadow. Stepped past the great height of Father Lament.

How the Priest did smile and grin.

 

[Solitude]

Solitude followed after Diaz, pulling the shadows around her to help hide her. They stepped into the all-consuming darkness, light being sucked into nothingness. Silence and only silence could be heard. Solitude opened her mouth, nervous to find out that if she spoke, even the sound from her dark lips would be sucked into nothingness. The darkvision allowed her to traverse this church without slamming straight into one of the thick pillars and even allowed her to make out the different colors of the tessellation on the floor beneath them.

It was a large picture of the mother and the daughters, of the ashen and the burnt, of the strange sunless dragons and creatures that lurked in the darkness. She could feel Celosia bristle in pleasure and her shadowkin came out to step alongside her. Rosario, her twin, hid within Solitude’s shadow and didn’t speak into her mind. Her sister was scared, but why? Was there danger up ahead.

“Let’s stay together, Diaz.” Solitude whispered to her partner. She didn’t like that Father Lament had stayed behind, close to the exit and expected the two of them to get Brother Rincon to him. Sure, Father Lament could make the killing blow. Sure, Father Lament was more adept to handling these threats than they were. But even together, Diaz and Solitude lacked the experience and skill needed to bring Rincon to the forefront.

They would have to navigate through the shadows and somehow, Solitude knew deep in her gut, that Rincon was far more in tune to the shadows. Perhaps he could already feel the two young assassins lurking through the darkness like a spider felt a fly getting tangled further into it’s web. The pillars moved further apart and the church seemed to open further. There were halls now and doors. In the center was a underground crypt.

“Left or right?” She asked. She wondered what rooms they would find and if any would hold Brother Rincon.

Diaz

 

[Diaz]

Let's stay together.

Diaz snarled. A rumble shook the chords of his throat. Why would he stay with her? If she was scared. If she was weak-

A pang from his shadowkin. A weight that held him back. Urged him closer to her. He growled. "Sure," he agreed.

Still, they walked through the shadows. Moved across dark shaded stone, and passed over bands of measured architecture. Things too well placed to be mere coincidence. Acts of a design just beyond his present thought. Light, that poured in from the world just outside the current reality.

"Right," he said flatly. Not because he knew anything in particular, but because the pull of the air felt right. A shift that welcomed him. That brought him closer to the feeling of right.

Step after steady step, they moved through the curling, clinging dark. Tendrils of sticky shadow stuck to limb and foot. Hands and legs.

"Something doesn't feel right," Diaz warned, as his shadow swirled beneath the space between his steps. "Like we are walking within another's mantle," he added. Hand ready to draw.

Solitude

 

[Solitude]

“I dunno, I would’ve gone left.” Solitude muttered. This was why she didn’t like Diaz, they were never synchronized and constantly butting heads. Obviously it was because Diaz was a idiot and Solitude had to be the brains of every mission they were on, but Diaz never seemed to listen to her and that always got them in more trouble so—

“Yeah, of course it doesn’t feel right. We should have gone left.” Solitude said, stepping after Diaz and sighing dramatically. Something tugged on her boot and something else tugged on one of the hidden daggers on her. Solitude cloaked herself further in her own shadow, a mixture of herself, Rosario and Celosia and it stopped all the touchy-feeling tendrils that had invaded her personal space moments ago.

Solitude kicked over a piece of debris, letting it clatter against the floor before getting caught on a rug. She glanced over, saw a statue expertly crafted of the Daughters, each praying in the three proper ways to do so: kneeling, standing, and perhaps the worst but most reverent way, face and hands on the ground. No matter what, eyes were lowered, head tilted down.

There were pews and a altar, with more art depicting the story of Mother Meness. This was one of the later stories, when the Red Church had burned her to ash under the false premise of her being a witch. Everyone knew she was really a goddess, and her coming back from the ashes proved this, even if it made her alabaster skin the color of soot for forever.

In one of the Sister’s clasped hands, the one in the center who was standing, something twinkled. A trinket?

“Diaz.” Solitude jerked her head to it before walking over there herself. “You think that’s valuable?” It was a necklace the color of moonbeams.

Diaz

 

[Diaz]

Diaz cast his eyes about, as they stood before the shadowed altar. His hand twitched to the sword at his hip as a chill ran up his spine.

He did not hear Solitude's question. Did not see the moonbeam necklace. Only felt the darkness swirl about him. Felt the pull of strings against his skin, like spider's silk attached to each and every hair bared to the stagnant air of that dead and forgotten place.

A pitiful bleat sounded from the shadows. Then a second, from different throat.

Diaz eyes tracked to find the source. Drew his sword out of nerves more than any tact, teeth shown in snarl as he readied.

"My," a voice came from the darkness. "Younger and younger, they send them to me," a laugh, void of all humor. "Hoping I will break," A figure manifest from the dark, and all the shadows about them seemed to shrink. Seemed to coalesce like walls of jet, come trap them in perfect confinement. "Hoping the hunger will take me, and the darkness corrupts me," his frame shook with that frigid laughter.

Tall and ashen haired, the horned man with bright eyes stared at the pair of assassins.

A serpent of shadow, slithered about his feet, coiled about his leg, and workd its way up his arm. There, cradled betwixt his hands, was a lamb, with two heads, behorned despite its infantile age. He stroked its fur, gently.

"Tell me, little lambs, and I will make it painless for you," the little creature in his arms screamed. A pop of bone, a sickening snap, and he threw the dead thing at their feet. "Who else did they send with you?"

Two heads, and six legs. The Lamb of Menessis lay lifeless.

Solitude

 

[Solitude]

Diaz didn’t answer her, which was fine. Solitude wasn’t in the habit of sharing. While she didn’t think the necklace would suit her, no jewelry did with jet black hair and sanguine eyes that made the brown bags beneath her eyes stand out starkly against alabaster skin, Sol was certain that it would catch her some good coin. If it was actually valuable. This far away she couldn’t tell if it was a piece of junk. She needed a closer look.

While Diaz decided to stare into the shadows, Solitude leaped up onto the marble pedestal that the giant sculpture was on. First she climbed up the kneeling Daughter and used that to help her scale up the standing Daughter. So enraptured with the task at hand, Solitude didn’t hear the sound of lambs, even if they echoed clearly in this holy site.

“Damn, the bitch was tall….” She muttered to herself, wrapping her legs around the waist and holding herself up with her arms that were looped around a black marble arm. She shimmed herself up higher, beginning to look like a upside down sloth hanging from a tree in the Ixchel Wylds. She now had a good look at the necklace, and it definitely did seem valuable based on the fine craftsmanship.

“DANGER!” Rosario roared in Solitude’s mind but it was too late.

My, younger and younger they send them to me.

Solitude shivered and turned her head over to watch the anathema killing of a blessed lamb, bleating for forgiveness despite being born innocent. Sol’s blood ran cold and she could hear Celosia and Rosario screaming in her head to get off the fucking statue. She got a good look at the lamb in Rincon’s arms, seeing it’s horns, it’s mismatched heads.

Despite the six legs, the two heads were an abnormality. Something more afoul than heretical Rincon.

“RUN RUN RUN RUN AWAY.” Rosario was scared, Celosia quiet. There was a tang of blood in the air. There was a hunger in Sol’s stomach, much like the one she had felt when she had fought against Diaz. Solitude, as frightened as her twin and shadowkin, couldn’t move.

It was a certain stroke of luck that a loud crack could be heard from the statue that she hung from. The Daughter’s arm began to break from Solitude’s weight. She watched the silvery necklace fall down to the ground and Solitude followed after it against her own will.

Diaz

 

[Diaz]

Down came the black marble hand of the daughter. Down went the necklace, sent to skate toward the dead and twisted lamb. Two headed beast lay lifeless as the marble arm crashed and the assassin blessed by Fox's Luck followed after.

Rincon but watched, eyes wide and attentive.

Diaz growled. "Are you fucking KIDDING ME?!" he shout, but did not turn to check on his partner. The sphere of Rincon's shadows was wide. The ease with which he held them shaped, made them manifest, like black marble themselves, told Diaz all he needed to know.

Loud as the crash was. Loud as his yell had been. There was no echo within the shaded sphere. His voice died as a whisper. The crashing stone, more like dirt, come thud against soft earth, rather than stone upon sheer stone.

"I'm not telling you a damned thing, you filthy, HERETIC!" he rushed forward. Closed the space between them quick. His blade cut horizontal, but Rincon was just a step too far. Another slash, another cut. Too slow. Too short. Diaz went on with his charge. Rincon slipped into the jet wall behind him. Melt into the pitch. Diaz crashed into the curved wall, face first.

Rincon's laughter echoed through the dome's field of containment. A snake lashed out and bit at Diaz, fangs sank into the flesh of his shoulder. His eyes went wide, and he could feel his flesh turn. Heavy as stone.

Solitude

 

[Solitude]

She hit the ground hard but it wasn’t the first time she had fallen from a place up high. She was only grateful that she was quick enough to twist herself back down to her feet, reducing the impact against her bones. Her hands helped to steady her and as Diaz made the mad dash to begin the fight, Solitude knew it was too late to run away.

Or she still could, her sister was quick to remind her, but Solitude shook that and the fear off. She had never cared much for a sword and daggers of all sizes covered her entire body. She took two, one for each hand, and went to help Diaz just as he slammed into a wall of shadow.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Solitude mumbled as her feet started to pound against the floor. “This is why I said we should have gone left!” She added once she was closer to Diaz. While seemingly heading for Rincon, Solitude swerved, bending low and piercing through the body of the lamb in an attempt to throw it at Rincon in a pathetic excuse of a distraction before throwing a dagger at where his head would be. At least where it would have been if he hadn’t moved.

All too quick he was behind her. She felt his shadow touch hers and her sister blocked a fatal attack that would have separated Solitude’s upper half from her lower half. Her sister screamed with fury but melted back into her shadow.

“Shit.” The last resort, her secret weapon: already gone and out of the fight. Even in this holy place where the shadows and blood ran rampant, Solitude had no time to issue any sort of prayer for her sister and the only good sacrifice, a lamb of Menessis, was already dead. Solitude leaped back a few times, coming to Diaz’s side. “Get up.” She hissed.

Diaz

 

[Diaz]

Get up.

A growl, a twist of hips and kick of both legs, Diaz was up, his sword still in hand as he stood at Sol's back.

"His shadow," he said, eyes instinctively darting as his sword came up. Something spat from the domed walls. Above them. Behind them. In front of them.

Silken spears of darkness. Diaz Sprang forward, his sword came up, deflected the strand along the edge. Turned it. Had to trust Sol was smart enough to survive.

A leg of shadow sprang out. Sharp as a spear. It struck. He shift his back foot, felt the edge of his heel come stuck against a strand of black. His eyes wide, arms tensced and he caught the spear pointed leg on the edge of his sword.

Solitude

 

[Solitude]

Diaz didn’t need to say anything more. Solitude was already well aware that the moment she had come to Diaz’s side they would be trapped with Rincon in a pocket of shadow under his control. There were few things they could do in this moment: evade, attack, defend, and wait for a stroke of genius or an opening to find Rincon’s weakness.

There was a part of Solitude that wondered if Father Lament would come to their aid. Would he really just stand there, waiting for them to bring Rincon to him? There was a sinking feeling in her gut that didn’t distract her as she dodged the first attack, if only because it were so simple and obvious. What if Father Lament had used her and Diaz as a distraction, as bait?

Normally, Solitude would have felt some confidence being in a void made up only of the obscure and shadows. But this was not her home, and every second that passed, fear and hunger intensified. She was afraid of being eaten by Rincon but by the Daughters, she was starving.

And trapped. She had realized until she went to roll to the side, her feet wouldn’t move. The spears of shadow made no sound, though obvious and simple, and Solitude had to duck and lean. Another was shot, she moved again, but unable to move her feet, the blow would hit her right through the eye.

It didn’t. Celosia’s small, shadowy form had emerged from nowhere, her small jaws taking hold of the shaft until the weapon made from the Mother dissipated and returned to everything surrounding them. Solitude angled her neck, righted herself up, still surprised that Celosia came to her aid.

Solitude clapped, hoping Diaz would understand.

Diaz

 

[Diaz]

Imbued with its own well of darkness, Diaz' blade was almost a familiar in its own right. An object borne with the Mother's gift, made so with the blood of all it felled, and all the shadow it was asked to drink.

Still, it could but hold against the pointed legs of Rincon's assault.

One, two, three strikes parried. Each with a little more effort as arms strained and muscles grew heavy with the heat of effort.

Some part of the young assassin's mind made note, that with each hit he blocked, he felt the blade stick. Just so. Made his efforts all the more taxing. Just as the sticky thread at his heel kept his foot locked.

A clap.

His eyes widened as he ducked one of the creature's arms. His sword turned, sheathed, hands cupped to clap.

Clap.

Sesshomaru burned out from the blackness. Red eyes aglow as he bared his fangs and ripped a leg out from the beast.

A chittering screech as the stumped remains thrashed back into the dome's wall. Sesshomaru snapped up the leg and horked it down. Diaz grinned wide and pleased. Clapped the beast away.

The serpent's poison still burned through his body. His fatigue, growing more and more with each breath.

But they'd found a way to fight back. Sol had found a way.

Solitude

 

[Solitude]

A fox couldn’t compare to the strength of a wolf, having to rely on its swift thinking and small size to run and hide from the bigger predator. While Celosia had come to Solitude’s age, she did not attack Rincon. Instead, she focused on getting Sol out of the sticky shadow that tethered her like a cow about to be disposed of for not producing enough milk.

A clap echoed in the dark domain, never to be heard within the halls of the abandoned church.

“Hurry up, hurry up.” Solitude hissed, pulling more weapons from her being that seemed to appear out of nowhere. Rincon may have lots more up his sleeve— no, it was certain that he did. One did not get to where he was without having more than one trick to keep them alive. In desperation, both man and beast were prone to using all of them. A hazy form moved in front of her and with wild abandon, Sol lashed out at it, her blades doing little more than creating plumes of smoky gray haze to settle in the small space.

Her eyes watered and began to burn. Smoke? No, there was no acrid smell such a thing. If anything, there was a hint of sweetness, like honeysuckle. It made her muscles relax, putting her at ease. The darkness welcomed her with open hands, and the pair of fangs in her peripheral vision felt more like a dream than a threat.

The assassin was faintly aware of Celosia intervening once again, her triangle ears tight against her head.

HER SHADOW BELONGS TO ME. The shadowkin seethed, and in the frothy haze, Solitude thought how surprising it was that Celosia didn’t like sharing. You will not take my second chance away from me!

Diaz

 

[Diaz]

The serpent recoiled from its strike. Bared its fangs, and slithered to make away.

Come the clap.

Teeth bared, came to snap round long body. Crushed scales. Ripped and shook wild about the kin.

So too the snake turned to shade. Bled and swirled into scentless curls of obscurity.

A laugh from the darkness. All around them. From the floor came those legs the spider still had. Clutched about the wolf. They pinched and held as fangs sunk deep into fur. The wolf whimpered. Growled. Snapped as its claws scratched and tore at the things underbelly.

Diaz' eyes grew wide. His hands went to clap. When fangs sank into his neck, and a strong body wrapped itself about his form.

His voice choked in his throat.

"But babes to the slaughter" the voice came from the darkness. Sweet with pleasure. Dark with it intent. A pair of silver eyes burned bright through the darkness of the veil of shadows. The sharp point of something, stabbed out there in his hand. A hunting spear.

Its obsidian point glint as Rincon's strong arm rose up with the heft of the weapon. Off hand raised to aim the shot.

Solitude

 

[Solitude]

Solitude watched as Diaz was attacked, mind still cloudy and fuzzy, like the days in summer when the smoke from the volcanoes intertwined with the cool winds from the tundra. She did nothing but look on, dread creeping further into her heart. She sank to her knees. Her sister couldn't save her now. There was no Yarrow would appear from the shadows and come to her rescue. The heretical Rincon was right: Lament had led them like lambs to be slaughtered.

She dropped her weapons, brought her hands together, fingers intertwined, and prayed to the Mother.

When Solitude was young, one of the priests corrected her when she heard her pray. He told her she was not to ask for help from the Mother, that she wasn't even allowed to ask for help from her sisters or the thirteen moon-scorched disciples. Sure, she could give them her thanks, but they were too busy to help her. He told her if she needed help, there were three hundred saints she could pray to, each one pertaining to certain problems that could be faced in life.

"Do not bother Our Mother," the Priest repeated after giving her a lengthy list of Saints for toothaches, subduing colicky babies, and finding lost keys to a front door. She is busy, and you will only distract her. She has important matters to deal with, like the old gods."

Was she bothering Mother Meness now? Was she bothering her daughters as she whispered their names through her dry, cracked lips. Her stomach twisted and turned, soon becoming empty as she wet herself. It was not enough to deter her.

Was she a bother when she did not pray for her own life but Diaz's? Was she a bother that she begged for his soul to remain whole, to not have the misfortune of being split? Solitude closed her eyes, reciting prayer after prayer, veins along her face slowly stained with an inky black.

Diaz

 

[Diaz]

It was not the words that brought him back. Nor the mother's touch, pulling his soul out of the sinister darkness of a heretic.

It was his laugh.

The arogance. How it mixed with all the stench of fear and death. It was the smell of the pits. The sound of the other assassins, day in and day out. Those who knew they were better than him. Knew that he would be the one to die when the time for proving came.

His heart pound in his chest and he felt his brother's soul there with him. His eyes came open in the dark, and his mouth gasped for breath.

His whole body wrenched up, his teeth bared in a shadow drenched snarl. His hips twist, his hands swiped, and his teeth came shut in a snap that splintered the spear's shaft. A growl from his throat.

Jaws came shut, and Diaz, a shadow-formed-beast, snapped the spear in half, and raised his head in horrid howl.

Rincon but laughed the louder. "Yes! Yes! That's it!" he sounded excited. "Fight on, little lamb! Fight on! Become more," his voice curled with delight.

Solitude

 

[Solitude]

When Solitude's prayer finished and she felt brave enough to open her eyes, what stood before was no longer her comrade, a fellow follower of Menessis but a beast of blood and shadows. The hunger in her clawed its way up her spine, stilling her chattering teeth. She was acutely aware of the sound between them and the little distance between them and Rincon, even between Diaz and herself.

Get up. Celosia urged. Solitude stared at the wolf before her. Leave them be. Run. Go to the priest. Solitude shook her head, a part of her yearning for the shadows that stood before a howl echoed about the shadowy veil. There, you could get out at that spot, and it's weaker than all the rest. Celosia was clawing at Solitude's side, a chill seeping through her clothes. We'll die if you don't.

"Diaz," Sol whispered, remembering how the shadows had taken over Yarrow. She stood up hesitantly as if moving too fast could have Diaz turn and attack her instead of Rincon. You can't let it get too far. Or you might not be able to turn back." Solitude was no grand shadow weaver, but she could help Diaz, maybe, if he didn't go so far in the madness and let the shadows hide in places they shouldn't be.

You're wrong. Celosia barked bitterly. Rincon's madness will overtake the both of you if you stay alive. You had a choice, fight or die, but it seems you'd rather fall to your knees and go insane slowly.

Diaz