Fragments Gallery
Blades in the Dark
The cloaked figure walked the darkened halls of the catacombs beneath the temple. The figure was tall and broad, most likely male. Every footfall seemed precisely placed, every shift of position coldly calculated; he seemed to be in control. Always in control.
He stopped at an intersection, black cloth swirling around them like wisps, and regarded the three hallways before him. Natural light entered the halls from small slits in the thick stone up above, the light itself reflected down from the surface far above using mirrors. However the light provided was not enough. In the shadows all three seemed identical.
A gloved hand lifted and in the upraised palm a faint glow appeared. The light pulsed once, twice and then grew in size and intensity. As the unnatural light grew the shadows were driven back along the walls, slowly revealing the markings etched into the cold stone.
The figure drew close, examined the wall and let the light fade as he continued down the path to his left. Soon a doorway emerged in the faint light. He hesitated on the threshold and some of his certainty drained away. The room beyond was black as obsidian. He didn't know what awaited him in there, but he knew what he must do. Recovering his courage he drew himself up and strode through the entry.
Inside he found nothing but darkness. Even the light from the hallway did not cross the threshold. He turned and could see the doorway but nothing else in the room.
"Who dares disturb us?"
The man started as the voice murmured beside him. He looked around but saw nothing.
"Show yourself!" The man commanded, his deep voice echoing in the chamber.
In return the voice only laughed. The sound echoed around the room and other voices joined in. He was bathed in the sound of their mirth.
The figure raised a hand and once more the light began to blossom from his palm. As the light grew it revealed only empty floor around him. He couldn't yet see the walls so he allowed the light to continue its expansion.
"No, no, no," The voice said slowly, "We can't have that. That's against the rules."
The light in the man's hand winked out. He murmured something under his breath but the light failed to reappear.
"Why won't you show yourselves," the man roared, frustrated, "Who are you?"
"No one visits us unless they want something," the voice was cool and silky, "Only the desperate dare come here. Surely you knew that; you came to seek us out. Do you truly not know who we are?"
"An old seer told me that you could solve my employer’s problems," the cloaked man growled, "She didn't say what you are."
"We are the blades in the dark, when all the world falls to chaos we remain unchanged. For we are the harbingers of that chaos. We are the face of death."
The man flinched back at the intensity of their words.
"I have a… job… for you," he said drawing forth a sealed letter from the inner seam of his coat, "My employer enclosed the details in this missive."
"Very well," the silky voice purred, "For payment?"
"Twelve thousand gold."
"That is agreeable."
"Do we have an accord?"
"Yes," the voice hissed, "It shall be done."
The man loosened his grip and the letter fluttered to the floor. Before it touched ground the man was gone, fled into the hallways.
"Remember us," Whispered the voice.
The sound of laughter followed the man out of the darkness.