Inquisitor Page 1-3

A woman sits on a stone bench staring down at her feet. The grey sky lets down a slow patter of rain. The grey stone path that lies before her has become a long mirror walkway. Lighting blue eyes stare back at themselves in the reflective sheen of the walkway. Water trickles from the rim of the woman’s black capotain; her reflection is dashed by the pouring water. She glances over her shoulder to address a man standing behind her. ” Parks, go get Reed.” Parks looked up and began to speak, “Are you okay?” She shot him a dirty look with furrowed brow and piercing eyes. She quickly averted her gaze and looked down at her reflection once more, hiding the anger in her eyes. Her voice was still thick with malice as she spoke softly, “Reed, now.” Parks began to walk down the stone walkway though a quaint garden full of crimson flowers, their color intensified by the rain. At the end of the walkway, two large iron doors sat atop four stair steps. Even more imposing than these monolithic doors, a Gothic church-like structure seemed to grow from these out-of-place doors. Parks pushed the iron double doors open effortlessly despite their size. Stopping halfway with the doors, he looks back at her and says, “Liliand.” Before he could get another word out, Liliand looked up and shouted, “Enough!” The rain seemed to slow, as if afraid to fall for an instant as her voice died out in an echo. Parks sighs as he walks through the double doors. The doors silently close behind him. Liliand’s gaze hangs on the Iron doors as it follows a Relief sculpture depicting a cluster of bodies and spears clashing with a twisting horde of fangs and fire. After studying the scene, her glance shifts to the smooth stone walls surrounding the entire property. The looming grey walls are only broken up by the occasional vine trying to scale their smooth surface. With not much to see, she looks up into the pouring rain; the sky is almost invisible through the thick canopy of foliage that stretches above the walls and hangs over the entire clearing. Despite the heavy canopy, the rain still pours through at an increasingly steady rate. Without the smooth-looking, gray walls that encircle the plaza and church, everything inside would surely be overtaken by the flood of vegetation. With her face now soaked from looking up into the green and gray sky, she looks down into her reflection. Taking her hat off and placing it on the empty space on the bench to her right, her short, black hair is quickly soaked by the rain. She studies her pale skinned reflection that is stark white in comparison to her matte black wardrobe. Her blue eyes shimmer and flicker with bright intensity like a flame. She stares into her own flickering eyes quickly becoming oblivious to her surroundings. Her gaze breaks suddenly as she looks down at her black-gloved hand that has moved to the sterling silver sword hilt. She grips it tight as a strange heat creeps through her glove from the hilt. She stares into the empty eye sockets of the silver skull that adorns the bottom of the hilt. Knowing that it wants to be drawn, she pulls it out of its matte black sheath. The sword slides out silently, the blade so brilliantly silver that it looks like it was crafted out of a mirror.  Holding the blade upright in front of her, she looks into a perfect reflection of her face and surroundings caught by the blade’s brilliants. Her reflection winks at her and she scowls, and in reaction her reflection begins to silently giggle. Turning the sword around, she rests the tip on the smooth stone at her feet. Without pressing down at all, the tip of the blade buries itself in the pavement. As she waits, the rain picks up and begins to fall in sheets. The foliage above is rustling so ferociously that it is almost louder than the now strong patter of rain on stone. Water is rolling off of Liliand’s black matted cuirass and armored trench coat in streams.  The air turns stark blue for an instant and a second later, the sound of the rain and rustling foliage above is drowned out by the deafening crack of thunder. Liliand reaches over for her hat as the wind picks up and puts it back on. At the same time, the iron doors slam open with so much force that the left door’s hinges crack and snap with a noise that could compete with the crashing thunder. The door wavers and then falls over sinking a few inches into the ground and pavement with a dull crunching thud. Liliand watches the preceding inquisitively. A moment later, a tall man with shoulder length black hair and a dark 5 o’clock shadow steps though the doors. The heavy wind throws his black hooded cap around immediately upon exiting the doors. His silvery cuirass shines out from his dark cloak. The second his silver tipped black boots touch the last step, the wind and rain stop. Liliand makes a quick glance up seeing the rain roll off of thin air over the stone walls. The man walks briskly towards her, his right leg moving stiffly. His steps are followed by the clang of metal on stone as his staff punctuates his steps. He stops feet from Liliand, with a scowl he waves his hand back at the now broken wide open doors as if beckoning someone to follow. A bald man in brown robes flies through the air as if he was being dragged by a noose and hit the ground at the dark haired man’s feet with a damp thud. The bald man starts to stand, but before he can get off his knees, the dark haired man strikes him with the butt of his copper-colored staff directly in the forehead. The man keels over and starts to rub his head. Liliand looked up at the dark haired man and said, “What does this man know, Reed?” Reed says with a hiss, “He won’t talk, but he is most certainly a traitor to the emperor.” As he said this, he made a flick of the wrist and the chest of the bald man’s robes split open to reveal an eight-sided metal star bolted into his chest.  Liliand glances up from the man and asks, ” Why have you not infiltrated his mind?” Reed responds with a growl, “If he is associated with Chaos, there is no telling if he is possessed or has other traps that lie in wait.” Reed looks back at the doors. Parks is making his way back to them. As Parks walks up to them, he looks up at the rain rolling off of the air and calls out, ” Don’t like the rain Malcus?” Malcus Reed glances up as he says “No Nathan, not at all.” Liliand stands up during this exchange, twirling her sword around her wrist and sheathing it. She then bends down and grabs the man on the ground by the metal star, her fingers digging into his flesh as she lifts him of the ground with a single arm. The man lets out a groan and upon hearing it, Reed turns back to the man with a sudden look of delight in his eyes. Parks unlatches the gold buckled clasp of an ornate crimson book with gold lined pages from a sheath on his belt made to hold a book. Reed takes a step back so he is level with Parks as he is staring unblinkingly at what is transpiring. Parks has flipped to a bookmarked page in his book and is now reading under his breath. Liliand stares directly at the man’s face as he clutches at her arm. Liliand shouts out, her voice still dripping with malice, “If you comply, I will send you to your false gods swiftly!” The man stopped struggling and looks into Liliand’s eyes, then spits at her. Unflinchingly, Liliand maintains her stare as the spittle hits her face and begins to dribble down her cheek. Liliand uses her free hand to reach up and wipe the spit away without breaking eye contact.  Liliand said in a hiss, “You have made your choice.” As she said this, the flickering firelight nature of her eyes suddenly changed to a steady burning blue glow. The man looked down at where Liliand’s hand was holding him up by the metal star. With a look of disbelieving horror, he watched as the metal star began to glow orange and white as if it had just been taken out of a forge. The man began to scream with a horrific twang of terror and pain. Liliand just looked up at him and smiled as the man’s skin began to sizzle and darken like cooked meat spreading outward from the now glowing white hot star on his chest. Despite the visible heat that is wafting off of the star, Liliand’s gloved hand shoes no signs of burning. Flailing like a helpless child, the man in an already cracking scream looks into Liliand’s burning blue eyes and screams, “WITCH!”

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