Approaching Threats

While Endyr slept peacefully, he was ignorant of the undercurrents moving in the shadows surrounding him. Far from the hotel, under the streets of the city, sewers stretched and coiled. Within these sewers you would find trash, rodents and insects. But on this particular night, there was other occupants present.

Six men, all wrapped in black from head to toe, were grouped together in an enclave. If Endyr was present, he would have noticed their similarity to the assassin that raided the Atrazark mansion only a short time ago. These men were huddled and conversing in hushed whispers with each other, clearly up to no good.

"Will this really work? I mean, these guys have a reputation for pointless carnage, and I don't see them as the reliable sort for this type of mission."

"I'm sure they say the same thing about us. The point is, we need their carnage to distract the officials and give us time to kill the targets. Don't forget how much is on the line here. Failure twice in a row will cost our group more than just money and personnel."

"I understand the part they'll play...but can they be trusted to carry it out? Who's to say they wont just kill us too once it begins?"

"Just relax. As insane as they are, Heretics always remember their dues. Normally, this is a vow of vengeance, but it also means they are, shockingly, some of the most trustworthy individuals on Orvonia. Only once they swear to their God though. Anything before that is worthless."

The six men were conversing about their current mission: the assassination of Sia and Altair Atrazark. After the failure of the first assassin, it seems his employer dispatched six to do the job instead. Was it overkill for two mere children? Perhaps, but it just goes to show the determination and hatred of their employer. Though, even the assassins themselves were not too happy with such a mission.

"I don't know about this...killing children is one thing, but working with Heretics? Especially believers of Navruavati? This mission will cost the lives of hundreds, if not thousands of people." One assassin expressed cold feet about the operation.

At his opposition, the other members fell silent. In truth, such measures also seemed wrong to them. While they were fine with killing women and children, helping cause a city-wide slaughter prickled even their consciences. But before the seeds of doubt could be properly planted, the shadows behind the dissatisfied assassin surged forth. In a heartbeat, they impaled the man, ripping several fist-sized holes in his chest and torso.

The other assassins spun around as a seventh figure stepped out of the shadows, this one a woman. Her face was hidden by her cowl, but she emitted a death-like aura of frost. "Anyone else have any objections?" she asked menacingly, as tentacles of darkness formed behind her, ready to strike. The remaining assassins hurriedly shook their heads, stumbling over their words. "None at all, Ma'am."

"Good. In that case, forget about the Heretics at once. We are here to kill two targets: Sia and Altair Atrazark. Until both of them are dead, everything else is irrelevant. Is that clear to all of you?"

With a unanimous agreement from her colleagues, the woman retracted the shadow tentacles and threw each member a medallion. Engraved on it was the symbol of a pyramid dripping blood on a field of intertwined limbs and flesh. The assassins trembled in terror upon recognising it: the Divine Symbol of the God of Carnage and Blood!

"That will differentiate you from everyone else, and spare you from the Heretic's assault. Be careful not to sully it, unless you want to face Divine Retribution for blasphemy" the woman warned.

At her words, the assassins felt like crying out. "Blasphemy?! Just being caught having these in our possession would have out heads of a pike across all the Continents! That's blasphemy!" But despite their qualms, no one spoke up. Seeing the silent submission of the others, the woman wrapped herself in shadows and vanished. After a moment of hesitation, the other assassins followed after her, traversing through the shadows.

....................................................................

While one meeting went on in the sewers, another was taking place above ground. Near the outskirts of the town was a simple, unassuming house. It looked identical to any other house in the vicinity and nothing about it stood out. A few lights could be seen inside it, giving a warm and cosy feeling to any onlookers. But within the house itself, hell was unfolding.

The hallway and kitchen were drenched in blood, with pieces of mangled flesh stuck to the furniture and walls at random intervals. Furniture was overturned and slashed, making it look like a bomb had eviscerated everything. But the worst sights originated from the master bedroom. There, a figure dressed in a blood-red robe hummed to themselves as they waved a scalpel and serrated blade.

On the bed, a man was tied down and gagged. He had been horribly tortured: it looked like someone had preformed an open-organ surgery on him. His ribcage was pulled back and his lungs stretched. His heart beat weakly in his exposed chest, and his skin had been flayed across his entire body. One eye was gouged out, while his nose was torn off. Surprisingly, the man was still alive, though he seemed on the precipice of death. Such an end would have been a mercy, but one the robed figure was in no hurry to grant. Just before the scalpel could descend once more, the blood decorating the room writhed an bulged, giving way for another red-robed figure to emerge.

The first figure turned to acknowledge the arrival of the second and gave a slight bow. "Greetings, Furren. You are just on time: I was about to finish with my work."

The second robed figure-Furren- shifted his gaze towards the man tied to the bed. He nodded in appreciation at the sight, and clapped his hands. "Truly a work of art befitting your status, Mester. Did you start with the skin or the organs first?".

Mester beamed and hurried to expound on his operation. "First, I flayed the skin a good bit. Next, I took his eye and nose. Finally, I pulled out his ribs to make way before operating on his lungs. I managed to stretch them an extra centimetre from before. It is truly interesting how flexible one's insides can be!"

Such an exchange was carried pout with he utmost normalcy, if a bit fevered. You would think it was two friends discussing their favourite play or book, and not a macabre torture. Furren reached into his robe and pulled out two items, gifting one to Mester. "Here, the Bishop has ordained these. Be careful, they received a Blessing from the Lord "Himself".

The items were two medallions, the exact same as the assassin's. The identity of the two men was revealed: they were Heretics and worshippers of Navruavati, the God of Carnage and Blood. After putting on the medallion, Furren posed a question. "What of our allies in this operation?"

Mester spread his hands and sighed. "We have reached an agreement. They will kill the one they are after, while we can spread the message of our Lord without interruption. Well, without interruption from them at least. Its such a shame though...that young woman held major potential. If only we could have recruited her to our Lord's embrace!"

Regret was clear to behold in Mester's face and voice, as he was genuinely upset to lose such a valuable addition. "If the heathen wishes to stay a heathen, then let her" Furren was much more dismissive however. "As long as they stay out of our way, we shall do the same yo them. Assassins who kill for bare profit are too ignorant for our Lord's Blessing to begin with."

Mester did not argue, but simply gestured to leave. Furren gripped his serrated dagger and swung it down in one swift motion, piercing the left lung of the man he was torturing. It punctured the flesh and the man let out a gurgled scream. "You will take4 several minutes to die, as you slowly choke on you own blood. Your second lung should keep you alive for longer, so enjoy the feeling."

With a sadistic smirk, Furren withdrew the dagger and left the room, Mester in tow. As they walked down the hallway, Mester paused and looked at a different room. "Were their others in the house?" he asked. Furren nodded in response. "A pregnant wife and two children, both girls" he spoke airily. Mester furrowed his eyebrows and sniffed the air. He smelt blood coming from there... "What happened to them?"

"I skinned the two daughters in front of the mother and devoured them. The younger sister was tastier in my opinion. After that, I cut open the mother and extracted the child. I then gave him to our Lord via a Ritual from the mother's blood. I slit her throat afterwards and left her to dry upside down."

Furren motioned with his hand and a leg was spat out from a pool of blood. He offered it towards Mester and smiled. "Want a bite?"