The Owl.
The Owl.
1 day of Ianua(1st month), 1491.
Courch Crossing, Gasinx City East. Brybs County.
***
Wrapped in a hooded robe of nightly quills and dusky feathers, the pale-faced Owl perched in the rafters of this dank complex, feeling utterly bemused. Its head turned its star-filled eyes this way and that as it bobbed up and down. Watching the masked humans practice picking transparent locks or attempt to sneak around this decrepit place with varying degrees of success.
The Owl watched them, as The Owl had watched many others throughout Brybs County make the same strange gestures or take sidelong glances at the obscure makings hidden in plain sight to learn the wordless Cant known to rogues across the realms.
This was Brybs county. The coastal land to the southeast where cities sat atop wooden stilts, keeping them hovering above the fetid streams of a cold bog that persisted for as far as the eye could see.
Brybs. The land of goblins, orcs, and every other creature shunned, killed, or enslaved by the so-called civilized races.
Brybs. The land of Rogues.
Specifically, this was the City of Gasinx. Degenerate central. An incoherent blot on the land, made of a dozen architectural designs smashed together in an effort to be called a city. The crude planks and iron bars of goblin abodes sat horrendously close to the rugged hide tents orcs called home. Even towering above them in some places and puncturing them in many more.
Even those, however, were towered over evermore by the spires or townhouses built by the slightly more successful humans around them.
Whether it was the farms to the east, Cloud Field district, the Applewell Center, High Ferry, or the Honey Dew District, killing, stealing, kidnappings, and robberies were the norm.
It was here, beneath the very guard post overlooking the two sets of bridges in the city, that the Bodhi Tree's Rogues Guild was located. Aptly- and disgustingly named Green Water.
It was here that they learned without being taught the language of thieves- a forbidden, wordless tongue of body language and environmental cues that spoke to all who remembered the Cant.
Random carvings on a line of buildings could make up a spined horseshoe when seen from the correct perspective- a safe house. Other carvings depicting rats or snakes denoted hidden tunnels or caches, depending on if the creature was fleeing or attacking. With subtle hand gestures and body language, thieves could plot scores with each other whilst engaging in conversation with a friendly neighborhood guard.
Though unevolved rogues often knew the cant, only the evolved could see it effortlessly; and once the young rogues below could, they went on to escape from trapped rooms, attempt to steal props without detection, and land sneak attacks on unsuspecting magical dummies. Again, to varying degrees of success.
Such paltry exercises were beneath The Owl, though. The ambitions hidden beneath those feathers ran far deeper than the Darkworld. Or rather, they ran as deep as the Underworld. To the land of death and devils.
So, with the paltry but sure-to-be-needed perks of his class, The Owl took flight towards the north, flying high and low through the ethereal layer of dusk spread across the beautiful land below.
But, The Owl's eyes remained ahead, its mind transfixed on a certain politician it hadn't seen for quite some time.
He was found leagues upon leagues upon leagues from where we met. In a brilliant chateau, set within the finest district of Anabel. A city of the Vrurian Empire.
Inside was just him, his wife, his many maids and servants… and, The Owl, slipping silently through the dusk to take a dip into his shadow.
***
[Rogue Devil, Soul Mastermind: Step 2 Task: Complete.]
[Reward: Passive Skill - [Thieves Cant.] Mana will react to the Cant in your presence, automatically translating it into written words or highlighting it for easier detection.]
[Reward: Passive Skill - [Cunning Reaction.] Paranoia has heightened your perception to unyielding degrees, thus opening your nerves to a surge of mana upon the moment of detection, in turn drastically improving your reflexes and agility for the split second needed for decisive action.]
[Step 3 - The Soul Mastermind: To continue your journey to become unbranded, you must find one you've made previous dealings with and masterfully guide them towards their death. In turn, pulling their soul to your abyss, where they will be reborn into your first devil.]
***
'They're out there… HIDING!'
The whispers made me flinch. Always, they always made me flinch. But my feet refused to move from before the window regardless. Not until my saving grace pulled me from that horrid trance, did my feet even budge.
Budge.
Not move.
"Raymond, dear, you've been there for hours. Come, I've warmed your food."
'She understands not.'
"No." I felt my head shake, distantly. 'And how could she?'
She wasn't the one called to the child nation of Mazi for court. She wasn't the one who was poisoned by supposed allies. She wasn't the one who had to put on a brave face as she walked among her potential conspirators in her own damned city! She wasn't the one with a county at risk of being overrun by barbarians, at risk of being the reason Mazi declared its independence!
No.
She didn't understand. But when Bakewia secedes and we lose out on the enchantments coming from the child nation, that's when she would care.
"Ungrateful-"
"Dear…"
A soft touch brushed my shoulder, and every fiber of my being pulled taught.
As if I'd been grasped by a hag, I lashed out. As if pulled by an unknown force, I spun hard enough to overshoot the sight of my saving grace and twisted back to see her sprawled on the ground, a slender hand caressing her reddened cheek. A look of utter fear on her face as she stared… at me, in horror!
Somehow, I saw through the watery mirrors of her eyes, the tears falling down my cheeks. And I felt- vividly, that unknowing force, that wicked raincloud above my head, pulling my face into a taught, wicked smile. That malevolent wickedness that haunted me sealed my mouth. Kept any words of apology from filling the air. Allowing only the sobs of my beloved to ripple across the floor until I could take no more.
I ran.
I left. To where, I knew not, but I rode and rode through the blistering cold until I faced a familiar sight. A line of glistening spears and reddened armor.
Was a welcome sight it was.
Before I knew it, my sword was out of its sheath, and standing tall among the glistening weapons pointed skyward, racing back and forth across the line as I whispered as loudly as the night would allow.
"Move! Forward! Move forward!" I screamed. "You cannot hope to spot the enemy this far from the boundary! Move!"
Anytime a noble appeared spouting orders, troops were confused. This time was no different. Except, I had an ally. A captain who, as zealously as I, realized the danger that loomed over our heads and so joined in belaying my orders. If needed, he pushed people closer to the border, shouting and then yelling and then screaming for them to stay vigilant until the buzzing war drums sounded on the horizon.
And then they needed no such probing.
But still, the wickedness scratched and whispered.
'They're coming. For US!'
"Here they come!" I shouted. "Form a line!"
'WE must strike first if WE are to survive!"
"Stay vigilant!" I banged the shield of a nearby soldier with my sword, charging the weapon with energy. Then moved on to the next. "If any barbarian crosses this border, they shall meet a swift end! Stay vigilant, Protectors of Anabel! For the Glory of Vruria! Stand strong against these conspirators!"
'Kill them ALL.'
"Stay-"
A sudden gust from behind stole the air from my lungs and forced me about. But nothing was there to be found. Nothing but darkness. Darkness. And fear.
"Stay vigilant."