Chapter Seven - Assassins!
Keygoire cast a protective ward over himself as the older
man, Valentine, as captain Ellison had called him, pulled Mix White out of the
way of the assassin’s blade. It didn’t take their conjoined party long to
prepare themselves for combat. The captain and Valentine pulled out strange
devices, they were metallic with a barrel that was sat upon a handle. Keygoire
wasn’t sure, but he assumed that they were some kind of miniature crossbow that
would allow for ranged combat. All three of the strangers from another world
tapped a button on their belts and were instantly covered with a strange bubble
that slightly blurred them.
Was this some kind of protective ward, similar to Keygoire’s own ward?
Mix White then scrambled for cover behind one of the strange desks within the
room. Sir Reginald held his holy sword, still aflame, in a defensive stance.
Three more blades were flung from the doorway into the bridge. Sir Reginald
deflected one of the blades with his sword, easily rediverting its path
harmlessly into the wall. A second blade hit the chair that captain Ellison had
taken cover behind. The final blade impacted Keygoire’s ward and was flung back
towards the person that had thrown it. Unfortunately, the assassin was skilled
and quick enough to take cover behind the doorway as the blade slammed into the
hallway wall behind them.
“Five attackers.” Theo, the AI, flashed into existence next to the open doorway.
His non corporeal state had allowed him to take stock of the attackers without
any risk to himself. A useful ability. “Four are armed with melee weapons,
while one is armed with a phaser pistol.” The apparition continued, his tone
and posture were both very calm.
Just as Keygoire began to wonder what a phaser pistol was, an assassin dressed
in armour that looked as though the shadow of a skeleton had been given form,
emerged from behind the door and fired one of the miniature crossbow devices.
An orange liquid that seemed to boil the air as it passed through it emerged
from the weapon, it quickly flew across the room, far quicker than a
traditional arrow from a bow. The orange liquid hit the captain’s chair, which
proceeded to melt into molten slag, leaving the captain exposed. Valentine was
quick on the draw and returned fire with another of the strange weapons. This
assassin was as quick as they were heartless. They pulled one of their own in
front of them, allowing their comrade to take the hit intended for them. Unlike
the assassin dressed in dark skeletal armour, the other four were only dressed
in the robes of the Cult of Tywyll. These robes did little to defend them from
the burning nature of the orange liquid as it quickly ate through their skin,
muscle, and bones.
“I got one captain.” The older man’s voice was gruff, with the texture of grit,
yet he seemed joyful at his kill.
“Four attackers remain.” Theo updated the party.
Keygoire decided that it was time to show these otherworldly guests the true
power of magic. He called forth the power of the runes that adorned his skin
and unleashed a torrent of water from his hands that rushed towards the doorway
into the bridge. As the flow of water raced into the outer hallway, one of the
attackers were swept off their feet by the current. Captain Ellison used the
opportunity to fire her device at the unlucky cultist, who was hit directly
with the orange blast. Their flesh melted at the contact, with the water
turning to steam as it too encountered the orange material. Keygoire then
unleashed the power of runes etched onto his staff, the same spell that he had
used yesterday to deal with the cultists within their own lair. Electricity
jumped from the mage’s staff, arching through the air until it contacted the
water, which then conducted the charge through the doorway, towards the
assassins hiding behind the door. Two of the three remaining attackers were
electrocuted by the spell. The last assassin, the one adorned in dark skeletal
armour was left unscathed as their armour protected them from the wizard’s
lightening.
It wasn’t enough to save them, as Sir Reginald used the moment of surprise to
approach the doorway, hiding the other side of the wall to the assassin. As
soon as they leaned out to discharge their weapon they were greeted by the knight’s
holy sword removing their hand from their arm with a single, clean, slice.
There was no blood, as the holy flame of the sword had cauterised the wound as
quickly and smoothly as it had created it. Yet the effect was the same, the
assassin was disarmed.
“Surrender cur, and you will not be harmed any further.” The knight was ever
loyal to his code. Keygoire would sooner have just finished the foe, but the
Order of Solas were useful allies, so he allowed them their code of mercy. It
seemed that the assassin didn’t agree with Reginald’s ideas of mercy as they
slashed at the knight with their remaining hand’s clawed gauntlet. They were
too slow for the knight as he simply deflected the blow with his holy sword,
removing their remaining arm at the elbow. Reginald then pulled the assassin
into the bridge, as they struggled to free themselves. The knight dropped their
foe to the floor and held his sword ready to be plunged into the assassin’s
heart if they failed to cooperate.
Keygoire strode over to the, rather literally, disarmed assassin.
“Those fellows with you, I know them.” The wizard began by addressing the
captive, before he looked up at the crew of the Abyss and continued. “They’re a
rather bothersome group known as the Cult of Tywyll.” Keygoire then looked back
at the assassin and continued. “But you’re not one of them. Your armour is far
more impressive than theirs, it’s a similar material to that of this ship, so I
guess that you’re from wherever these fine people are. So, who are you?”
“A servant of destruction, kill me, and send me to my God!” The voice of the
assassin was strange, distorted, and otherworldly.
“There an assassin from the Brotherhood of Interitus. They’re the ones that
downed our ship. We’ve captured their kind before, they never talk.” Captain
Ellison’s voice sounded tired, as if the appearance of this assassin had sapped
the energy from her soul.
“You want me to talk? Fine, I’ll tell you one thing, we have the boy that you
so carelessly abandoned!” The assassin then erupted into laughter, the kind
that Keygoire had only heard from those that had their minds twisted by
madness.
“Quinn‽” Reginald gasped. He then pressed his blade against the thinner,
flexible part of armour that covered the assassin’s throat. “Where is he?”
“The Cult of Tywyll has him.” The distorted voice was losing itself to madness.
“Why tell us this?” Captain Ellison asked, her question was simple, but wise.
“It’s a trap.” Reginald answered for her. Then Keygoire caught onto what the
knight meant, the lair would give the remaining cultists the advantage.
“Yes, I fear that the brave knight is correct. Their lair, it’s only accessible
through a single entrance, which would leave us trapped within a choke point.
While we could use overwhelming magical force, with Quinn prisoner, we couldn’t
be sure that he wouldn’t be caught in the crossfire.” Even Keygoire himself
noticed that his voice had lost its traditional bluster.
“They hope to funnel us into a kill zone.” The gruff voice of Valentine
summarised the situation.
“What’s our play then?” Captain Ellison seemed to be a woman of action.
“First of all we deal with our captive.” Keygoire affirmed, before he addressed
Sir Reginald personally. “Will you be taking this one alive as well?” The
knight looked conflicted but eventually left the assassin’s fate in their own
hands, with a simple question.
“Do you repent your vile God, assassin?”
“Never!” The distorted voice barely had time to answer before the knight’s holy
sword had dealt its deadly blow. As soon as the assassin’s soul left their
unholy body, a strange thing happened, a nightmarish void of nothingness began
to pull the body into itself. Keygoire immediately recognised this reaction and
pushed Sir Reginald backward, out of the way of the void explosion. In the
blink of an eye, the void had vanished, leaving a crater in the floor of the
ship where the assassin’s body had previously rested.
“What was that?” Mix White asked, as they emerged from their hiding place.
“It was void space, at least it was according to all my sensors.” Theo
answered.
“How did void space emerge here?” Captain Ellison continued.
“That was an Orb of Regna exploding. During the Düsterberg Invasion of the
Third Age those Orbs played a vital role, but they were all destroyed. All but
one of them, which I happen to know is kept safely away from these cultists. This
means that these assassins have access to their dark God’s realm once more. It
has now become vital that we stop them, before Tywyll, or as you seem to call
him, Interitus, is able to once again attempt to invade this realm and have it
unmade.” Keygoire’s tone had become deadly serious.
Now the fate of Honosreach rested on the shoulders of himself, a lone knight of
Solas, and three strangers from another world.
© Robyn Timmons, 2025
