Death Of A Mercykiller
Posted: Sun Aug 08, 2010 12:00 am
Sigil, City of Doors.
In a city that never sleeps, there are, however, times of relative inactivity. Hours of darkness during which the large population of humans and other sentients sleep. The heartbeat of the great city is sluggish during these hours. The pulse of Sigil slowing down to a somnolent, drowsy throb as life slows and events take their pause.
Others embrace the darkness of approaching antipeak as the time the more important and thus more secretive deeds were to be accomplished. Nevertheless, they, too, in their busy scurryings and black dealing, avoid the more exposed areas of Sigil.
Thus it was that in the Great Bazaar, during the time just after antipeak, Sigil's darkest hours, that a black, heinous deed was performed.
A corpse bound to a cross.
Crucified. His limbs stretched out and secured by razorvine. Black with blood as he had struggled.
Already the carrion creatures gather, the rats and crows. Yet they are thwarted in their own plans to make feast by the sudden appearance of a man in red armor. One of the Harmonium. Busied on the other side of the Bazaar after the hue and cry of robbery went up, he discovers the grisly sight upon returning to his regular patrol.
Doubtless the robbery had been a diversion. More unfortunate it was the perpetrator had not been caught; the shadowy figure, described only as a male tiefling, had fled, without any spoils, chased by those in the red armor to the outskirts of the bazaar. Then disappeared. Clearly, now, the exercise had been intended to draw them away from this site.
The body was male; beyond that, identification was more difficult. The man had been lavishly tortured, and . . .
. . his face was nearly gone. Burned off; or, more properly, melted. The flesh had actually flowed like wax. Pooled upon his chest like some obscene, fleshy collar. Here and there the whiteness of his skull could be seen peeking through.
The man had been tortured, crucified, and then, this was done, a final, lethal act.
That much was eminently clear. For upon his chest a small stone gleamed. A Sensate Sensory Stone, revealing the man's final moments.
Identification of the man - a human - took hours while the Harmonium waited upon the results gleaned by one of the staff Diviners. Emerging from the darkness of the mausoleum, she looked shaken and pale.
"The body is that of a Mercykiller."
"Adam Winters. He is dead-beyond-resurrection, Factotum. While the body could be mended, the soul is gone. My findings indicate it has been devoured."
A silence falls between them as they momentarily lower their heads. In respect for the Dead. Aghast at his fate. Finally, the Factotum speaks.
"Inform the Mercykillers . . . "
== o == o == o == o == o == o ==
On the street, the whisperings have already begun. The chant, that other unstoppable force in the Sigil beside the Lady herself, continues.
One man and his gang murdered in this manner.
The sensory stone, left behind for others to find.
The hideous, melted face.
A vigilante and his accomplices.
Nemesis
.
In a city that never sleeps, there are, however, times of relative inactivity. Hours of darkness during which the large population of humans and other sentients sleep. The heartbeat of the great city is sluggish during these hours. The pulse of Sigil slowing down to a somnolent, drowsy throb as life slows and events take their pause.
Others embrace the darkness of approaching antipeak as the time the more important and thus more secretive deeds were to be accomplished. Nevertheless, they, too, in their busy scurryings and black dealing, avoid the more exposed areas of Sigil.
Thus it was that in the Great Bazaar, during the time just after antipeak, Sigil's darkest hours, that a black, heinous deed was performed.
A corpse bound to a cross.
Crucified. His limbs stretched out and secured by razorvine. Black with blood as he had struggled.
Already the carrion creatures gather, the rats and crows. Yet they are thwarted in their own plans to make feast by the sudden appearance of a man in red armor. One of the Harmonium. Busied on the other side of the Bazaar after the hue and cry of robbery went up, he discovers the grisly sight upon returning to his regular patrol.
Doubtless the robbery had been a diversion. More unfortunate it was the perpetrator had not been caught; the shadowy figure, described only as a male tiefling, had fled, without any spoils, chased by those in the red armor to the outskirts of the bazaar. Then disappeared. Clearly, now, the exercise had been intended to draw them away from this site.
The body was male; beyond that, identification was more difficult. The man had been lavishly tortured, and . . .
. . his face was nearly gone. Burned off; or, more properly, melted. The flesh had actually flowed like wax. Pooled upon his chest like some obscene, fleshy collar. Here and there the whiteness of his skull could be seen peeking through.
The man had been tortured, crucified, and then, this was done, a final, lethal act.
That much was eminently clear. For upon his chest a small stone gleamed. A Sensate Sensory Stone, revealing the man's final moments.
Identification of the man - a human - took hours while the Harmonium waited upon the results gleaned by one of the staff Diviners. Emerging from the darkness of the mausoleum, she looked shaken and pale.
"The body is that of a Mercykiller."
"Adam Winters. He is dead-beyond-resurrection, Factotum. While the body could be mended, the soul is gone. My findings indicate it has been devoured."
A silence falls between them as they momentarily lower their heads. In respect for the Dead. Aghast at his fate. Finally, the Factotum speaks.
"Inform the Mercykillers . . . "
== o == o == o == o == o == o ==
On the street, the whisperings have already begun. The chant, that other unstoppable force in the Sigil beside the Lady herself, continues.
One man and his gang murdered in this manner.
The sensory stone, left behind for others to find.
The hideous, melted face.
A vigilante and his accomplices.
Nemesis
.