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Old 02-Apr-2007, 16:47   #1
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I'm a creative sort of chap, put it down to needing a lot of escapism as a kid. Anyway, a couple of weeks ago, I came up with this plot idea of a high fantasy story where there's a thief-cum-assassin who works for the Church. Now, I would point out this is not a mercenary who works for gold, but rather a man who is devout in his beliefs, but also happens to have the skills to be a thief-cum-assassin. Basically, this has been what his family has done for generations.

So, I was just wondering whether I could post the first few segments that I've written during my lunch hour at work and see what you guys think about it. I will post a segment per post to keep it clean and easy.
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Old 02-Apr-2007, 16:48   #2
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A lone figure looked out over the acres of rooftops in the city of Riversfork, a light breeze snatching at his cloak. In the streets below him, people busied themselves with their evening jobs, and a delicate waft of baking bread reached the figure’s nostrils. Gripping the shaft of a weather vane with one hand, he used the other to grip the edge of the roof, crouching to ensure his stability. During his youth, the figure had been given free run of the rooftops and had learnt many of the nooks and crannies of the cityscape. Now, there were few which he had not treaded upon at least once during his life. To his north stood the towering magnificence of the Castle of Riversfork, home to King Geoffrey the Bold. A generous king, he had little patience for criminals, which the figure unfortunately fell under although his work was far from criminal. To his south stood the only building that exceeded the magnificence and opulence of the Castle, the Cathedral of Astertes. As the kingdom’s official religion, it was the only organization sanctioned to hold itself higher than the King. It was the Church of Astertes which upheld the law in the Kingdom, enforced by a large group of Knights of Astertes who simply called themselves the Judges. At that moment, a bell tolled from deep within the Cathedral. To most citizens, it was a call to prayer. To the figure, it was a call to business. Alighting from the rooftop on which he was balanced, the figure moved swiftly, leaping from rooftop to rooftop with speed and agility. In no time at all, the figure had dropped into the grounds of the Cathedral and was dashing across the well kept grass before scaling the side of the Cathedral. After a few moments climbing, the figure dropped down quietly onto a balcony and pushed aside the curtain which hung over the opening. In the room beyond, a priest was reading a holy book on a lectern, his back to the figure. When the figure saw the priest, it dropped to one knee.

“What are your orders, your Eminence?” the figure asked quietly. Without a sign of surprise, the priest turned and smiled at the figure.

“Meredrin, your timing is punctual, as ever,” the priest said, crossing to a side table. “A few of my Judges would do well to learn that lesson.”

“What sort of man would not be punctual, when he is asserting the will of Astertes?” Meredrin asked the priest. By way of answer, the priest merely smiled.

“You are as devout as ever, Meredrin. You would do well as a Knight of Astertes,” the priest remarked. “Alas, I have pointed this out to you many a time and your answer is always the same.”

“It is not in direct action that my strengths lie,” Meredrin said, by way of answer.

“No,” the priest replied. “That is very true.” The priest removed a tightly-bound scroll, sealed with the priest’s own wax seal. Holding it out, the priest still smiled as Meredrin took it.

“Assassination,” the priest said idly. “A new coven of the Death Cult has sprung up in the Trade District. All of the relevant information is on that scroll. As always, assassinate the leader through whatever means you deem necessary and the Judges shall clean up the rest.”

“As Astertes wills,” Meredrin said, stowing the scroll deep within his tunic.

“Now that the formalities are over,” the priest said, waving his hand as though ordering the death of another were a trivial thing, “How does your family fare?”

“Well, your Eminence,” Meredrin answered. “Sophia has taken to religious studies zealously. I pray to Astertes nightly that she shall one day serve him as a priestess.”

“I have followed her progress. I am sure she shall make a fine priestess. What of Marcus?” asked the priest?

“He proves to be quick-witted and sound in body. I plan to give him a couple more years of growth and then I shall train him as my replacement,” answered Meredrin. The priest nodded.

“Your family has served the Church for generations, Meredrin, yet the Church has not seen a servant so devout as yourself. Surely, Astertes shall reward your diligence well,” he said, pacing across to the balcony so that he could look out of the window across the city.

“It is all a man can hope for,” replied Meredrin, keeping the priest’s pace, yet always remaining a few steps behind. “If you beg my impertinence, your Eminence, you seem distracted.” The priest turned to Meredrin and sighed.

“No, Meredrin, you are not being impertinent, merely perceptive. Only this morning, I received word from one of our smaller diocese. Three days ago, the church at Jered’s Bane was ransacked. All of the priests were murdered and the religious artefacts stolen,” the priest said sadly. Meredrin breathed in sharply.

“What sort of barbarian would do such a thing?” Meredrin asked angrily.

“We can’t be certain, as they left no sign nor symbol. We suspect it to be a retaliatory attack from the Death Cult for us having stamped out many of their covens in recent years. Losing a church is an unfortunate side effect of waging war on these cretins,” answered the priest. “We have given those who lost their lives a proper burial and a team of Consecrators have been sent to re-consecrate the grounds.”

“I shall ensure that the leader of this particular coven,” Meredrin patted his breast, “shall learn the hard lesson of opposing the Church.”

“Thank you,” the priest answered. “As always, you shall be the avenging hand of Astertes.”

“I can but try,” Meredrin said. A second bell tolled from within the Cathedral.

“I shall be expected at prayers,” the priest said, moving his hand to bless Meredrin. “Guard yourself and may Astertes guide you through darkness.”

“May He light your path as well, your Eminence,” Meredrin replied.

“Be safe,” the priest added. Meredrin nodded and crossed the room to the balcony, disappearing into the night.
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Old 02-Apr-2007, 16:48   #3
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Two nights later, Meredrin found himself perched within the eaves of a warehouse in the Trade District, the faint smell of the day’s fish landings drifting lazily across the breeze to his hiding place. Reaching into his tunic, he withdrew his orders once again. As usual, there was a well-sketched drawing of his target, alongside some vital information. It said that the coven was situated beneath a warehouse belonging to one Germaine Hodgson, a wealthy trader based in Sunport, across the Kavalian Sea. Whether or not Miss Hodgson was involved with the Death Cult remained to be seen, but the coven had to be dealt with swiftly and firmly. According to his information, the leader usually held court at the back of the catacombs underneath the warehouse, and the easiest entrance was a trapdoor within the warehouse itself. Tucking the orders back into his tunic, Meredrin took a few quick steps to the edge of the roof and launched himself across the gap between the two buildings. He landed on the flat roof of the warehouse and rolled with his momentum, coming to a stop almost halfway across the building. For a moment, he paused in a crouching position, waiting to see if he heard any noise that would indicate someone had heard his movement. Satisfied that no one was coming to check, Meredrin breathed a prayer of thanks to Astertes and edged toward the nearest skylight and peered into it. Meredrin had chosen a cloudy night as it meant that there would be little light to give away his position, and he made quick work of the skylight’s lock. Edging it open slowly, he rolled himself forward and dropped down onto a crate beneath him. Again, he paused to gather his bearings and to see if anyone had noticed his arrival. It appeared that there were no guards, so Meredrin dropped down from the stack of crates and swiftly covered the distance between the stack and the room which held the trapdoor.

‘Lax security,” Meredrin thought, although the Death Cult worked best in secrecy, so posting guards might draw attention where it was not wanted. A small plaque on the door told him that this was the office of Lerwin Goodstock, one of the aliases that the leader of the coven used. Working quickly, Meredrin picked the lock and slipped inside the office. According to his information, the trapdoor was hidden beneath a rug in the office and sure enough, the rug located behind the desk in the office provided a result. Beneath the rug lay a lockless trapdoor, which meant that there had to be a switch somewhere close by. For five minutes, Meredrin searched fruitlessly, before locating a small switch behind a nearby cupboard. Pushing it lightly, he turned to see the trapdoor open upwards silently.

‘Nice craftsmanship at least,’ Meredrin thought as he inspected the device. Another switch, twin to the one behind the cupboard, was situated beneath the lip of the trapdoor, so Meredrin slipped onto the ladder which was fixed to the catacomb wall and descended, pulling the trapdoor shut behind him. As he descended, he noticed that the catacomb, whilst lit with spluttering oil torches, was still dank and gloomy. As soon as he stepped onto the catacomb floor, he dipped his hand into one of his hidden pouches and withdrew a small leather strap which had two thin gems fixed to it. Lifting the strap to his head, he tied it on tightly and allowed the gems to work their magic. After a few seconds, they had adjusted so that Meredrin could see perfectly well. With the ability to see clearly, Meredrin made his way down the catacomb. Sneaking through the catacomb, Meredrin noted that it seemed to be in a general state of disrepair. Bricks were missing from the walls and rubble was strewn across the catacomb floor. Stepping gingerly over the rubble, he continued down the dank corridor. In the distance, he could hear the quiet thrum of voices, and they appeared to be chanting. As he edged towards the voices, their chanting became clearer. It was in a language that Meredrin was unfamiliar with, but given the sound of their voices, he was glad that he could not understand what they were saying. Removing his orders quietly, he double checked them for the location of the leader’s quarters. Fortunately, the path to his quarters appeared to be located away from the chanting mob. Moving quickly and silently, Meredrin made his way along the passage, taking care not to give away his position. After a few moments, Meredrin came to the end of the passage, and was faced with an ornate door, carved in the shape of a skull.

‘Such idiocy,’ Meredrin thought forlornly. Checking the visible hinges of the door briefly, Meredrin figured that they’d been well maintained and that opening the door would be make any noise. Taking a breath, Meredrin rested his hand on the handle lightly, and pulled the door open. As expected, the hinges were indeed well maintained and the door swung open soundlessly. Beyond the door lay a dimly lit room. Not six feet in front of him was a figure with its back to the door, hunched over a lectern, muttering to itself.

“Is that you, Acolyte?” the figure croaked, without turning around. “Put the scroll on that bench there.” The figure pointed to a cluttered bench by the wall. Stepping inside the room, Meredrin closed the door behind.

“I am no acolyte, merchant of Death,” Meredrin uttered harshly. The figure span on their heel, but Meredrin was quicker. With one hand, he plunged a dagger into the figure’s shoulder and with the other; he struck the figure squarely on the jaw. Meredrin watched dispassionately as the figure struck a nearby wall with a muffled cry of pain, slumping to the floor. Allowing himself a small smirk, Meredrin moved over to the man and pulled his dagger free.

“As a heretic who enjoys inflicting pain upon others, I am sure you shall appreciate the intricacies of the toxin I have just plunged into your system,” Meredrin said, pulling a stool over so that he could sit in front of the slumped man. “At first, you are afflicted by a fast acting paralysing toxin. Once that has settled into your system, the toxin makes way for a powerful truth serum, which leaves you completely malleable.” As he spoke, he watched the man tense with the paralysing toxin, and then smirked as his eyes glazed over.

“After a minute or so, the toxin wears off, leaving you free to speak,” Meredrin said, cocking his head to one side. After a few moments, the man’s jaw slackened slightly. “You are ‘Lord’ Graham Killax, is this true?”

“Yes,” the man said dully.

“Are you a ranking member of the Death Cult?” Meredrin asked.

“Yes,” the man said in the same tone. Meredrin nodded.

“Your base of operations lies beneath a warehouse owned by Germaine Hodgson of Sunport. Is she involved with the Death Cult?” Meredrin queried, leaning forward slightly.

“Not to my knowledge,” replied the man. “She is unaware of this coven.” Meredrin leant back in the stool.

“Interesting,” Meredrin mused. “Very well, our time together has come to a close. I hope your soul burns for eternity in the deepest pits of Hell.” With alarming alacrity, Meredrin drew out his sword and slashed it across the man’s throat. With the force of the blow, the man slumped sideways, but the truth serum prevented the man from crying out in pain. Wiping the blade with a scrap of cloth, Meredrin allowed his hands to dig amongst the piles of scrolls for anything that would need the priest’s urgent attention. Satisfied that the ‘Lord’ of the coven had simply been poring over old scrolls, he left them for the Judges to take.

“I would normally kill your kind outright, heretic,” Meredrin said to the dying man. “However, your cult attacked a church to the north, killed the occupants and stole our artefacts. For that crime, you will lie against the floor and bleed to death. In a few moments, Judges will storm through these quarters and put your acolytes to the sword. Your parchments and scrolls shall be gathered together and put to the flame, eradicating years of dark knowledge. Finally, the Consecrators shall consecrate this ground so that your evil spirits shall not be permitted to linger on this plane and you shall be consigned to the depths of Hell before this catacomb is sealed forever.” A garbled guttural sound from the man signalled that he’d finally tried to fight his fate, but it was far too late for that now. Without a second glance, Meredrin slipped out of the room and backtracked his way along the catacomb. At the trapdoor, he nimbly darted up the ladder, pausing only to allow the trapdoor to open before closing it again. The Judges, devout as they were, did not know of his existence. For the few assignments where there was a chance of the Judges and he meeting, the priest had instructed Meredrin to be clear of the site for at least five minutes. In the past, the Judges had been led by a devout and fervent man who had been the son of a Cardinal. He was, however, still wise to the ways of the world and saw fit not to question why certain covens had been found with their leaders recently assassinated. Unfortunately, several months ago, he had taken retirement and now lived on a farm near one of the Church’s busiest monasteries. His replacement, a female who had risen from poverty, had taken to the job vigorously and upon finding a coven with its leader assassinated minutes before hand, had launched a full investigation into the matter. Meredrin refused to dwell on the matter, however, and quickly made his way to the rooftops and made good his escape. It was only when he was several streets away that he stopped, hearing the clamour of a Judges’ raid beginning in the background. Meredrin smirked before heading off into the darkness.
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Old 02-Apr-2007, 16:49   #4
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“Father,” Marcus said as pushed open the door to his home, later that morning. “We were expecting you home last night!” Marcus was a playful soul, but he was quick of both mind and body. He would make an excellent replacement to the Church when Meredrin either ages beyond usefulness, Astertes willing, or he was killed in action, as had been the case with his own father.

“I apologise sincerely, my son, but I was held up at the office. A shipment from Sunport was delayed in a stopover in the Free Islands,” said Meredrin, lying quickly. Meredrin needed cover which would allow him to be out of the house at strange hours, and being an independent trader allowed him such freedom. Of course, the trading company had been around for decades, having been set up as cover by the Church. It took some careful planning to keep the company successful enough to remain operational under it’s own without additional funding from the Church, but small enough that rivals wouldn’t poke around in his business and ask some compromising questions.

“It’s okay, father, Sophia amused me greatly with tales from the Books of Astertes,” Marcus said gleefully. “I hope to follow her steps into the College when I’m older!” Meredrin feigned shock at this.

“If you are off to college, my son, who would run the company when I am too weak and infirm?” Meredrin said, a smile playing across his lips. Marcus laughed.

“You’ll never get weak and infirm, father. You are so devout that Astertes would not allow it!” Marcus said, grinning.

“Marcus,” Meredrin said suddenly. “You must never suggest that Astertes would let a man live past his allotted time. Only those in the Death Cult seek to bend the laws of Nature in such ways!” For a second, Marcus was shocked.

“I,” he started. “I didn’t mean to offend you, father. I was just joking.”

“I know you didn’t mean to offend me, and I am not, for I know your nature. However, do not say such things in public, in case someone does take offence and reports you to the Judges. They’d be less humoured than I,” Meredrin reprimanded, although he stroked his son’s hair softly.

“I understand, father,” Marcus said quietly, clearly put out by his father’s reprimand. Meredrin shook his head gently, and then scooped up his son.

“Come, let us have breakfast and then we shall see to your reading and writing, for what use shall you be to the company if you are unable to read trading slips?” Meredrin said jovially, tickling his son in the ribs as he carried him towards the kitchen. Marcus’ laughter pealed throughout the house.

Later that evening, Meredrin sat out on his balcony, watching the sun slowly set on the horizon above the rooftops, slowly sipping at a glass of fine brandy. He regularly came up to the balcony to simply sit and contemplate his life. Often he would simply read one of the Books of Astertes before retiring for the night.

Meredrin had been leading this double life for almost fifteen years now, since his father had died. Despite having completed the mission which he had been sent on, his father had been poisoned and had barely made it back to the Cathedral without toppling from the rooftops. As fate would have it, he died before Meredrin could speak to him again. It had been that moment which had been the catalyst for Meredrin’s life and he had sworn to Astertes that he would aid in crushing the Death Cult or the Holy Order of Grammax as they called themselves.

Grammax was an ancient god of forbidden knowledge. At first, the Holy Order of Grammax had been called the Enlightened, a group of scholars and clerics who wanted to learn more about knowledge, lore and magic outside of the Church of Astertes. For decades, the Church and the Enlightened worked alongside each other in peace and harmony, as many of the Enlightened were devout members of the Church. All that changed five hundred centuries ago. Over a period of three or four months, the Enlightened became increasingly hostile towards the Church, calling the existence of Astertes into question and demanding proof of his existence. They claimed that the healing and magical abilities displayed by those in the Church were merely manifestations of their own inherent power and that the powers were not granted by Astertes himself. Not only that, but they claimed that they had contacted a god of their own, Grammax, who promised them knowledge beyond their wildest dreams.

For a few months, the Church tolerated the Order. After all, Astertes himself had preached that man should be tolerant of his brother. However, a few months after the Order had insulted the Church, word began to leak out that this Grammax was demanding payment for his knowledge, and that the payment was to take the form of ritual blood sacrifice. Within days, the Church had ordered that a crusade be carried out against the Order, and in one bloody, war-stricken week, the temples that the Order had constructed were torn to the ground, and their acolytes and clergy put to the sword and burnt at the stake. After that week, nothing more was heard of the Order until a century later, when suddenly covens began to spring up from nowhere. A group of Knights, who had pledged themselves to the service of Astertes, rode into the town of Jedsburgh and slaughtered the members of the coven there. For their gallantry in the face of heresy, the Church commended them and placed them at the centre of a new military arm of the church, and gave them the simple epithet of ‘the Judges’. To begin with, the Judges were told to seek out, and destroy, the covens of the Order, but after a couple of centuries, the King at the time, King Humphrey the Jolly, decided that the Judges should also preside over the civil law of the land. At the time, he maintained he did this because the Judges were utterly arbitrary and that they would do the job better than any other, including himself. However, after his death, many of his subjects wondered whether it might just be so that he could spend more time with festivities, which was his favourite pastime.

Where his family fit into all of this history, Meredrin was unsure. He knew that his family had served the Church in this capacity for generations, but quite when it all started, Meredrin was unclear. In fact, even his father had not known. However, this did not change the fact that Meredrin was devout in his cause and unwavering in his execution. Delving into the crypts and catacombs that lay beneath the city was not his favourite pastime, but it was a job that had to be done, and done well. Meredrin had even been out into the country for the Church, both assassinating leading members of the Cult and on fact gathering missions. In the distance, he heard the bell toll for evening prayers. Tonight was not the weeknight where he would appear at the cathedral as the assassin. Marcus and he had visited the cathedral earlier to pray, collecting Sophia from the college as they made their way back. Every time that Meredrin looked at Sophia, he was reminded of her mother. She had died due to complications due to Marcus’ childbirth. It had been a traumatic time for Meredrin, and he had spent several weeks praying at the cathedral so that the pain would diminish. Sophia had taken up the mantle of mother to Marcus admirably. There was eight years separating them, with Sophia now aged sixteen and Marcus aged eight. Sophia had been at the college for two years now, and was progressing admirably. Meredrin slid the last of the brandy down his throat and then stood up, walking towards the balcony door. Night was beginning to fall and it was time that he got some sleep.

Last edited by gimpchimp; 04-Apr-2007 at 16:29.
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Old 02-Apr-2007, 17:38   #5
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good stuff, keep it coming
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Old 04-Apr-2007, 16:30   #6
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Added on some more, beginning at "Later that evening..." in the third post.

Pondering whether this has any sort of marketability whatsoever.
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Old 04-Apr-2007, 16:35   #7
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could you sum it up in a sort of blurb?
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Old 04-Apr-2007, 16:36   #8
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I like
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Old 04-Apr-2007, 21:11   #9
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Laz
could you sum it up in a sort of blurb?
I did, in the first post. Lazy sod!

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Old 04-Apr-2007, 21:26   #10
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What do you guys think so far then? Does it read well? I'm thinking that the splits will act as chapters, but I'm not sure if they are too short or not.
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