# Blood of the Wicked



## Timely Drought (Jul 13, 2004)

THE HEROES

Ib the Drake: A famed mercenary captain. His draconic ancestry inspires distrust in many. The men he leads in battle love him as much as they fear him. Those who hate him call him Wicked Sword, named after the blade he wields.







Ursula, Hand of the Inquisition: Priestess of Shubure, Goddess of Fertility and Endings. An itinerant nun charged with uprooting demon cults. Daughter of a nun that had broken her vow of chastity, she was taken from her mother and raised by Shubure's maidens.







THE WEDDING

Ursula had taken inquisition funds to hire the mercenary Ib when her investigation had finally given some results. She was walking through the forest path as she had done in her dreams for many weeks. Ib walked in front of her, insisting on leading the way. She could tell he wanted to be in charge, his blood craved to be in command. The going was made slow by the rain. They continued upwards on the hill, and finally arrived at the Valeris castle.

A sentinel and his dog guarded the entrance. As the two approached, the guard looked up from his seat. He spoke but his words were drowned by thunder. Ib and Ursula continued approaching.






Ursuala spoke, "Kill him."

Ib unsheathed his sword. The sentinel seemed unsurprised, and replied by unchaining the dog. The hound immediately shot forward, and while it was running towards Ib, a metamorphosis took place. It was as if worms were crawling under its fur instead of muscle and bones. It grew larger than any dog had the right to be. Ib dodged the form at the last moment. The unnatural hound went past him. It turned its head and opened its massive jaw, its tongue split into a dozen strands that snaked towards Ib and grappled his arms and legs. The beast retracted the tentacles and Ib slid through the muddy ground towards a maw filled with several rows of fangs. A twist of his sword severed the tentacles and another swing decapitated the hound. A thick crimson sludge leaked from the neck and slivered towards the severed head. Ursula murmured a prayer to her goddess and the abomination reverted to the form of the dog it had once been, and where there had been a crawling black sludge there was now only a pool of inert blood. Ib turned it time to intercept the guard's halberd with his sword. With a negligent chop he cut through the guard's chainmail and disemboweled him. 

Ib and Ursula continued towards the entrance. The main entrance, a massive double door, was unwelcoming. But a secondary entrance, a small wooden door, was also present. The two came up to it and Ib knocked on the door loudly with the hilt of his sword. A few moments passed before an opening in the door appeared and a pair of eyes peered suspisciously at them.

"Open in the name of the inquisition," said Ursula.

The doorman pipped up. "The inquisition!? Sod off, you bloody whore. We don't want your meddlesome hand in our righteous works." The opening snapped shut.

Ib slid his sword through the door and impaled the doorman. With a kick he knocked the door off its hinges. A narrow corridor could be seen of the other side, and the doorman's corpse lay on the floor. Ib stepped over it and went ahead, Ursula followed.

The gatehouse was deserted, and they continued unhindered through the inner courtyard towards the chapel. Before they could reach it, a dozen guards rushed out of the barrack and encircled them. One guard came forward, and adressed Ib in a commanding tone. "Surrender and pledge your soul to Belit-Sheri, swordsman."

Ib smirked. "I'd have to be barmy."

The guard captain persisted. "The old ways are fading, the maidens are losing their suffocating grasp upon the world. Join us and you can be free of their lies."

Ursula interrupted. "We've no time for this."

Ib unsheathed his blade and launched himself in a deadly whirlwind. The guards could barely raise their weapons before beying cut down. The cries of pain soon turned to the moans of the dying.

The two companions continued towards the chapel. All was eerily quiet as they came up the stairs. Upon entering, a hundred seated peasants turned to stare at them. The priest behind the altar spoke, "You've come to repent your sins, I see. You've done many crimes against Belit-Sheri, but that can be forgiven. She welcomes with open arms those who pledge themselves to Her. There's still time for you, Ib. Why don't you join your brother? He's chosen the path that leads away from the decay and corruption of this world, the path to Belit-Sheri's temple."

His words were honeyed and entrancing, but Ib's will remained unbroken.

Ib scowled, "I'll slay my brother before he reaches that temple. But first I'll slay you for showing him that path. And you can join Belit-Sheri in her prison outside of Order."

"You fool! It is this world that is the prison. That is why we work to unmake it." He turned his attention to the assembled peasants, and his words changed from honey to brimstone. "He is undeserving of Her salvation. He is everything you despise. Slay him, and slay the maiden at his side. They are the chains that keep you bound in this shallow existance." Every word he uttered made them more agitated. When he was done, they were howling in rage. 

They came in waves, arms outstretched to grasp them. Ursula unhooked her axe and stood back-to-back with Ib as the mass of fanatical cultists surrounded them. The peasants came forth but were cut down as soon as they were within reach. The bodies pilled up and soon Ib and Ursula were stepping on a growing mound of cadavers to keep from being overwhelmed. The glorious carnage continued until the last peasant fell.


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