Fable - Ask The Gloom Between Stars

[Demise]

Mother, guide the hand of those who punish.

Mother, help those who swayed from your path see the light.

Mother, give me wisdom so that I may keep more from falling to the shadow.

Faith's screams did not surprise her, nor did their selection from those gathered - though she might have picked Brother Chastity to go before Faith. From what she had heard, his were far more serious crimes. Dallying with the Radiant Church. Her hand squeezed on the glass just short of breaking it and she raised it to her lips to hide her disgust. Of course, she had no concrete evidence merely whispers. A chance sighting. But she would find the evidence she needed and then she would ask to watch as the flesh was flayed from his bones and he gave up the names of those he had spoken to.

Demise had a deep love for hunting those who had wiped out her entire People.

She must work harder to keep the others on the right path lest she have to kill them too. Her eyes flickered over the younger lot, assessing and weighing. Perhaps, she would take a few under her wing. That would put her in the Bishop's good books. But who?

 

[Yarrow]

Yarrow waved Brackard and his cronies goodbye as the three of them frogmarched Brother Faith from the room. For a brief moment, she managed to catch a glimpse of the man's eyes. Fear. And confusion. Was Faith guilty of being unfaithful or were the Orderlies simply looking to strike the fear of Mother -or Him- into them? Yarrow had her suspicions.

Not that Solitude cared.

Turning slowly, Yarrow gave her sweet sister the evils she deserved. And she should count herself lucky. Under normal circumstances, if someone's hand just so happened to wander below the belt without permission, the she-orc would have taken it off as compensation. But hey, this was her friend she was thinking about! Why hurt her when Love would do it free of charge?

'Can't say you didn't deserve that.' Yarrow smiled her pleasure, though, it was hard not to feel bad for the lanky, greasy-haired assassin. If only he hadn't been so good at switching personas. 'Hate to burst your bubble, Love, but it seems to me there're fewer of us every year.' Standing up, Yarrow dabbed at her wine-stained pants using the corner of the table cloth. She frowned, guiltily.

'Suppose it just means we should cherish what we have even more, right?' Yarrow looked around at her "family," feeling as she did the hairs on the back of her neck begin to rise. 'Why are you all looking at me like that?'

Love Solitude Celerity Valor Diaz Demise Abandon

 

[Solitude]

Everyone was speaking to their own groups, everyone was waiting for the moment when the Archbishop would appear and all assassins under Menassis would gather in unified prayer. Solitude was sulking, Diaz was being a slob, Abandon was blending in with the background, Father Love was being diligent, Yarrow was trying to hold the family together, Vicar Demise was probably beating off advances from the assassins around her, Celerity was busy with other things, the inquisitors were torturing, and Valor was being the knight forced to be an assassin that he was.

All was normal, as normal as a gathering of Assassins could be. Nothing was out of the ordinary, except for perhaps Diaz’s good behavior. Solitude had decided that after the warning from Cain she was going to drink herself so silly that Yarrow would have to carry again, but suddenly the doors burst open.

A ray of light blasted through, erasing the darkness and many shadows of the room. Solitude screamed in silence as Celosia raged within her shadow, every nerve prickling along her skin as all the shadowkin raged against their respective assassins. This wasn’t normal light, but holy light, the absolute worse kind.

Flying through the doors was a decapitated head, unnaturally long white hair following after it until it hit the statue of Mother Meness. It stained her with a splash of blood that couldn’t be seen before falling down onto the many offerings for the mother, revealing itself to belong to Xasca the Gatekeeper.

Sol’s crimson eyes widened in fear. Xasca may not have had a shadowkin or a twin to be his enteral keeper, but he was a master swordsman. No one in the room had swordskill that could compare to the elf who had spent his entire life in using the blade. It was why he was the gatekeeper: he didn’t share the weakness that all the assassins of the Caliginous Church shared.

Shouts and screams followed suit, all the assassins in the room following their instincts to search for the darkness. Heavy steps could be heard as a couple of figures guarding a women with a staff made of light entered the room. Their entire made it clear they were from a specific sect of the Red Church. The sect that had dedicated their entire lives to obliterating the “heretics” of the Caliginous Church.

“GET BACK.” Solitude shouted, immediately taking hold of Yarrow and trying to bring her back to the shadows so they could avoid the holy light of the priestess and her gilded staff. Except it was all for nothing— Yarrow was far heavier than Solitude expected. Meanwhile the guards moved, heading for the assassins out in the open.

Someone had betrayed them. Sol didn’t know who but there was no way the Red Church should know of this place, unless Brother Faith had really…? The young assassin couldn’t think it over, rolling off of the table and then pushing it over, using it as a shield to protect her and others from the light. As long as there were shadows they could be safe.

But how long would it be until the bimbo priestess covered everything in holy and divine light?

Spoiler: Priestess and Guards

[art cred for priestess] [art cred for guard]

 

[Valor]

Valor stared at Mother's offerings as the assassins slinked and bolted into the church's darkest depths. He seemed ignorant of the forthcoming chaos, back still turned away, though his posture did straighten at the sound of the intruders.

"Oh, what's this?" His tone was innocent, like a child asking excitedly at the sight of a present. While the kind swell of his voice seemed pure, the cracked smile on his lips revealed a more bloodthirsty desire.


Valor spun around, sword unlashed and gripped with a hand that held it as tightly as the smile on his face. A spectral wolf wrapped around his shoulders like a pelt, jaws clamping sharply down onto one, teeth seeping into the folds of his jacket.

"Hey. Who are you guys?" He paid no heed to Silence's words, the noise having long fallen into the buzzing silence of the background. There was nothing else left on his mind except fulfilling his desires. Valor stepped down closer, pointing his blade now at the interlopers.

"Oh well, it doesn't matter. Let's just have some fun while we kill each other, okay? Don't think I can let you out of here alive either, so let's both try our best!" He made a beeline for one of the knightly guards, a wild swing brought down against their blade, driving them back with a monstrous blow. A luminous smile was on his face, like a child basking in the presence of a freshly wrapped birthday gift.

 

[Diaz]

Tables flipped over, shadows grew darker, light blazed bright across the room and each beam of holy light seemed to impale shadowkin and assassin alike.

Diaz, pressed into cover, sword drawn, breath heavy, felt his heart quicken. His lips parted into a wicked smile as the darkness of shadows enwreathed him.

Bloody fucking heresy.

A flash of light. Some haughty words that dripped with piety and other flavors of bullshit. Diaz sprang out. Armor covered in mirrors glittered and sprayed beams of white light out in every direction as the armored guards advanced in ranks.

Diaz moved quick. Jinked through the astral array of light. Their eyes, the guards of the Red Church, so used to the light and all it touched, could not see the shadowed-form of Diaz as he approached, rabid and hungry as his wolf bayed within him.

One guard tried to follow what blurred before him. Fixed his sword to strike down in wrathful cut.

A single clap of hands.

From behind the guard who aimed to strike down Diaz, appeared a black wolf. Swirling with smoke, maw dripping with black flame. Its jaws crunched about the guard's ornate helm, and the skull inside popped in a gush of red.

A second clap, and the wolf was gone. Diaz drifted across the chaos. On to the next kill.