- Messages
- 51
- Character Biography
- Link
The building stank of blood and worse, silent as the grave itself. Well, except for the buzz of flies that had crowded in from the marshes of Allir. The only discordant note was the laughter of children, muffled but near to hand.
The inquisitor knelt on the earthen floor hands clasped in front of him as he offered silent prayer to the Grey Lady. Maybe she would forgive him for all of the violence he had brought into the world at the end of his life. Maybe not. It was always a matter of intrigue that Seekers such as himself should debase themselves with so many violations of the Law in the pursuit of upholding it.
Odd how faith sometimes contradicted itself so.
He wasn't exactly sorry for the things he had done in Her name, of course. Every soul should seek to follow a life by Her precepts; harm not another, exploit not another, lift others up rather than cast them down. It was just that someone had to make sure that others did not take advantage of the faithful. Turn the other cheek, so She said. Alas, there were those who would see it for weakness and would then violate every rule of the faith.
Not believing in the Lady wasn't a crime. Violating Her Law? Quite another thing.
Prayer finished the man stood slowly. Behind him the cooling body of one such sinner slumped in the rickety, half rotten chair he had been tied to. Torture wasn't usually a great method of getting information. Erin didn't think anything he had said once he had begun his grisly work was worth the breath expelled to speak it.
But there had been bits and pieces before he had started. The rest had been punishment for doing that to a mother and her son.
Stepping outside was like shedding a weight from his shoulders. Closing the door behind him, he shook his head. A tall man in heavy armor, the visor of the helmet thrown open to display an almost ordinary face, he only stood out in that this part of the city did not see his like. Children ran about in ratty clothes, their middling families eyeing him with suspicion but not fear. No, their fear would be directed to the thug. Not an apparent solider - armor and the great, two-handed club of a sword as well as the myriad other blades on his person named him such. A soldier for whom though?
No one these people likely knew.
The Outer City, near the Spinning Wheel. An inn, by the sound of it. The deceased ruffian had said that the place he was looking for was accessed through the cellar. Underground work was not something he particularly enjoyed, but he could handle it.
He would have to ditch the great sword and settle on the more workmanlike blades. The crossbow might be of use this time, too.
The shark liked to make statements. Funny.
So did Erin.
The inquisitor knelt on the earthen floor hands clasped in front of him as he offered silent prayer to the Grey Lady. Maybe she would forgive him for all of the violence he had brought into the world at the end of his life. Maybe not. It was always a matter of intrigue that Seekers such as himself should debase themselves with so many violations of the Law in the pursuit of upholding it.
Odd how faith sometimes contradicted itself so.
He wasn't exactly sorry for the things he had done in Her name, of course. Every soul should seek to follow a life by Her precepts; harm not another, exploit not another, lift others up rather than cast them down. It was just that someone had to make sure that others did not take advantage of the faithful. Turn the other cheek, so She said. Alas, there were those who would see it for weakness and would then violate every rule of the faith.
Not believing in the Lady wasn't a crime. Violating Her Law? Quite another thing.
Prayer finished the man stood slowly. Behind him the cooling body of one such sinner slumped in the rickety, half rotten chair he had been tied to. Torture wasn't usually a great method of getting information. Erin didn't think anything he had said once he had begun his grisly work was worth the breath expelled to speak it.
But there had been bits and pieces before he had started. The rest had been punishment for doing that to a mother and her son.
Stepping outside was like shedding a weight from his shoulders. Closing the door behind him, he shook his head. A tall man in heavy armor, the visor of the helmet thrown open to display an almost ordinary face, he only stood out in that this part of the city did not see his like. Children ran about in ratty clothes, their middling families eyeing him with suspicion but not fear. No, their fear would be directed to the thug. Not an apparent solider - armor and the great, two-handed club of a sword as well as the myriad other blades on his person named him such. A soldier for whom though?
No one these people likely knew.
The Outer City, near the Spinning Wheel. An inn, by the sound of it. The deceased ruffian had said that the place he was looking for was accessed through the cellar. Underground work was not something he particularly enjoyed, but he could handle it.
He would have to ditch the great sword and settle on the more workmanlike blades. The crossbow might be of use this time, too.
The shark liked to make statements. Funny.
So did Erin.