FateGuard

Despite Tahan's foot being wrapped in cloth bandages, he stamped the ground with enough force to send an ring through the damp wooden planks. The sudden impulse shook the boards, sending a small sphere of dust and everyday debris whirling around his knee, as if he wanted to drive away the evil in the room by force of will alone. Tahan swallowed before whirling to face Malwin. He was wearing white monk robes, and underneath the deep hood his eyes smouldered.

"Sinners must be punished." Two nails dropped out of his sleeves into his hands. He clasped them in front of his heart, the gleaming white points forming a cross, but otherwise did nothing else.

"Like the rest." He pulled his hood back and stared at Corben, but whether he was being shrewd or simply bullish was not obvious.
 
13 Years Ago...

"Careful, boy!"

Eric swept an arm out and barred Corben from moving any closer. It was perhaps an over-reaction. The teen backed off, brow knitted in shame and anger, and moved instead to the far wall. And this left only the older FateGuard around the gaping hole in the hovel floor.

"It was the Heydrich lad who found it," Harrel said, crouching to run a hand across the lip of the chasm. Afternoon sun barely pierced the narrow windows of the peasant dwelling, and caught the silvering hairs at his temples. "He was friends to the butcher's boy who lived here. Came to return a book, and found the door ajar."

"So what could make a hole that size?" growled Marcus, who even now ran the tip of a dagger against his stubbled cheek.

"Nothing I have seen," Eric answered.

The hole was ten feet in diameter - more than half the floorspace of the hovel. Most of the furniture had fallen into the darkness, and only a narrow ledge remained between the lip and the kitchen wall, where a young Alexander and Ferrick balanced precariously, peering into the abyss. Marcus had dropped a penny into the darkness below, but no sound had returned. It was as if the world was hollow beneath them.

"I knew the family," Harrel said, shifting his grip on his shield. It was emblazoned with the Vermillion coat of arms, in honour of the late departed Zachary and Allison. "The butcher Galan, his wife and boy. God-fearing people. Frequent volunteers for the foraging expeditions. They had no evil in their hearts."

Eric crouched too now, leaning over the side of the hole, noting the jagged edges of the floorboards. It was as if they had been ripped down by an incredible force. He could hear water dripping too, from where the sewers had ruptured. The hole had not been here long. It had... simply... appeared. "My mother encountered such a thing," he whispered, "During her service. Our forefathers had a name for it: The Rove Maw - the mouth of hell ever shifting, opening in different times and places, never the same from one night to the next."

Behind him, Corben exchanged worried glances with Ferrick and Alexander. "So... it just... swallowed the Galan family?" His voice trembled.

"Steady nerves, boy," Marcus rasped at him, before looking to the doorway. He addressed the fourth elder amongst them. "What say you, Legionnaire? Is there something down there?"

Framed in sunlight against the backdrop of Helm Street, a sickening skull helm turned to look at Marcus. The Legionnaire's armour creaked as she turned, the grating of bone on metal, breath misting through the dragon-maw mouth guard. Her left hand, tattooed and mithril-ringed, lifted to trace a shape in the air. It was the only way Father Gregory's creation could communicate.

Eric read the sign. "Catacombs? But we are nowhere near the Chapterhouse tunnels. How can there be chambers down there?"

The Legionnaire seemed to sniff the air from a moment, then lower her head. Her hand made another signal.

"Not built by us..." Harrel whispered.

There was a sudden rumbling, the crack of stone, a shaking of the ground. "LOOK OUT!" Alexander shouted, pushing Ferrick clear as the hole shifted. The darkness seemed to writhe like ink, and a great gout of dust and soil shot up from the chasm. The FateGuard reeled, Harrel raising his shield, the Legionnaire coming into a crouch. The dust cloud filled the hovel and blinded them all for precious moments in which the ground shook and a great clattering of stone deafened them.

And then, as quickly as it had happened, the sound and shaking was gone. The dust began to settle over walls and furniture, and left layers on the FateGuards' clothes. Coughing and straightening, the champions turned as one to look at the ground.

It was solid again - stone and soil spread evenly between the breached floorboards.

The hole had vanished.


* * * * * * *​


"Careful, boy." Corben swept an arm out and pointed a threatening finger in Tahan's face. It was perhaps an over-reaction. The Legionnaire waited, eyes intent on the so-called sinner. "There is no possession here. Put your weapons away."

Silence held as the Marshall stood between the boy and the accused. It was broken only when Corben spoke out to everyone. "He speaks of the Rove Maw." It was no mistake that Corben focussed on this part, and not the news of Malwin's wife and daughter passing. His heart and mind refused to dwell on that. And Derek had stepped in to give comfort where the marshall could not. "We've encountered it before, in Eric's time. A decade ago."

He remembered it clearly. The hole had vanished at the stroke of three. If the tunnel was to move again, they would have four hours before it did so.

He turned his back on Tahan, and looked down at the Poisoner. "Did you summon the Maw, Malwin? Was this your doing?"
 
Saint strolled out from the doorway he had awaited entry to less than twelve minutes ago.

At that moment a runner came up to him holding a sealed scroll.

Upon reading it his hands began to tremble but pain was not the culprit this time. Rage caused his hands to shake now just outside the Bishop's private study. Now he stormed toward the front doors before shoving them wide open. Both the doors and the guards who stood watch over them parted with that same surprise the Red Sea once felt. Anger burned in eyes where one would expect divine serenity while the remnants of his lips were sculpted into a scowl. Even with the bandages obscuring most of his expressions. . . that one made it through with flying colors. Swiftness akin to that of an executioner en-route to his duty possessed his gait and gave it a frightening new level of determination.

But his thoughts drifted between the present and the conversation with the Bishop.

"Leonardo, you are a sight for sore eyes. How are you faring these days my son?"

"My faith keeps me strong in these times of betrayal and blasphemy."

"Of course it does. You are a loyal member of the Church. I feel my soul lift each time I hear of your deeds in battle. More devout than others of the FateGuard it would seem, with these recent developments. Your mother would be proud of you."

A moment of silence passed between the two.

"Thank you, your Grace."
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People in the street moved with haste from the path Leonardo walked in such a righteous fury. God-fearing people who would later whisper that they could feel an otherworldly aura coming from him. More fuel to the fire for his legend among the citizens. If something did indeed watch over him, that presence now stayed masked from their eyes alone. All who shared the street with him were buffeted by this invisible wave of wrath. No one stood in his way. Though few were privy to the current situation, none could deny that anger hung in the air around him as he approached his own house.

"But surely you did not come here looking for compliments. Do you bring me more news of Tahan? What is your business here?"

"Your Grace I have come before you today to ask that the masks of the twins be placed under my guardianship."

His voice did not waver. Demand forged each word, the whole sentence tempered by determination.

"Are you aware, Leonardo, that the items you ask for are heretical? And that you ask for them from the very one who declared them so?"

"I am aware of my actions. As I am aware that the Twins were not heretics themselves. Victims of the Wounded Hand. As you are no doubt aware that they were both close friends before I ever joined the FateGuard. Their bodies are now ash, Your Grace. The masks are all that remain of them now. I would beg that you show mercy and let one who cherished them in life keep watch over their masks in death. To protect them."

"Protect them from what? Are they not safe under the watchful eye of the Church? What you ask borders on heresy, Saint. I know that pure intentions are in your heart. But I demand you cease your request."

"I will not."
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Combat Crucifix in hand, Saint made his way toward the Chapterhouse common room without any signs of stopping. Mind buzzing with the thoughts that had plagued him ever since the birth of his bastard half-brother. How his very existence gave physical form to all that had gone wrong in his life. Product of his father's drunken despair after the death of Leonardo's mother. Written upon the scroll, were words that delivered the tragic news that Malwin's family was now dead. Even worse was the evidence of blood hexes and powder sigils. Unforgivable transgressions in the eyes of many devout christians living within the city walls. Ones that were heresy of old and not just some brand new declaration made as a precaution. And all of them done under one roof.

"You shall regret those words."

"I would not ask for this with selfish intent. I have a plan, Your Grace. A plan to. . . to capture Kael."

"What plan could possibly require the masks?"

"One that requires bait."

"Let me think on this matter. Be wary of your actions in the future Leonardo, for they have earthly and spiritual consequences. We will meet again."
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"Did you summon the Maw, Malwin? Was this your doing?"

These were the words Leonardo walked in on, the first he heard. Words that drove him to shove his way through any that stood between him and Malwin. Combat Crucifix set ceremoniously on the floor. He knew not what the Maw was, but he did not care as emotion overwhelmed him. Saint got a good clean look at what the man had done to himself since Ferrick's night of killing. Bandages that somewhat mirrored his own smeared with coagulated blood and other filth. Even his hair showed just how far the corruption had gone.

"You deserve the mercy of God. The bible grants you that much. But you will have nothing of mine. That goes to your wife and child. Did you care so much for their bodies that you forgot their VERY SOULS?!"

Leonardo got right up in his face and lifted him up out of the chair by his shoulders. Rage incarnate pinned him to the wall.

"You profaned what precious time remained in the lives of your family with acts of witchcraft. God save their souls, for you could have very well damned them with your dabbling in the dark arts! Every night I would pray for their health to return since they fell ill! Every night! And now you commit this BLASPHEMY?! . . . . . I pray that their innocence in all this shines through and grants them safe passage to heaven."

Every word spoken while all but Tahan tried to get a grip on him. Adrenaline along with an intangible force kept them at bay for longer than what many might think possible. Hands of the other FateGuard had come to restrain Leonardo now, holding him back from his bastard Half-brother who had now estranged himself even further. Yet in all the anger he had displayed there was a sadness of sorts lurking within the rage. Calming down as time passed after his initial outburst granted a glimpse of it. Sympathy was not the word for it though. Grief served to describe it better. Mourning for the loss of those his prayers seemed to have done nothing for.

"Before we venture forth into this darkness that only you can see through without aid of torch, I want to know the nature of every spell and all else you used. All of them. For it is beyond doubt that whatever lurks beneath Gothenheim is a direct result of your actions. Though once we enter our vision will be for naught, I will not do it blindly."
 
Malwin did not appear to notice the remarks around him. Tahan's conviction, Derick and Alyss' offer of comfort, only when Corben spoke last, when he directed a question at the Poisoner did he look up, sharply, snake-quick. His face was an inscrutable mask of bandages, but muscles worked beneath to almost produce a smile, or a leer, or maybe it was misread entirely.

"No." He said softly.

"No man commands The Sacred." a whisper, harsh, quiet. It did not seem to come from Malwin, but around him. Even then, only those who were…not quite human could hear it.

With a roar that shattered the whisper, banished swift enough to question its existence, Leonardo stormed into the room and pushed past the gathered. Hands rose to pull him back, but he grasped his half brother and raised him up against the wall. Both bandaged men stared at each other, but Malwin's expression was shrouded in his bandages. Saint howled at him, barked, poured his hellfire and brimstone, guilt and condemnations. Through it all, Malwin neither spoke nor broke gaze with his half brother. There was no fire to oppose him any longer, no snide words or arguments. The sorrow had sucked the fight out of the Poisoner, or perhaps he simply didn't care. When Leonardo was finally pulled away, Malwin slumped back in his chair, doubled over.

Alyss rushed to his side, and so it was that only she could see that Malwin's figure was not curled in agony.

He was laughing.

He held there a moment, quiet, bent over, before straightening.

"It came to swallow me, my family…but it found us too late. I was too quick for it and my family had already departed."

"Returned to the fold..." That same harsh chuckle, gleeful, dusty echoes in the minds of those touched by the same corruptive magics that had blinded Malwin.

With what appeared to be great effort, Malwin raised his head to Tahan, cocking it sideways. "We use items forged in magic. Not all of us are wholly human. What makes your magic less blasphemous than mine? I harmed no one but myself, and nothing was wrought of it. Call to punish me if you must, child, but you are punishing shadows and failure, no breach or curse."

"Lies and Blasphemy." Leonardo snarled.

"Thrice the sideways pentacle of Kale," Malwin murmured, his gaze now on Leonardo, "The rune of awakening, the rune of healing, the rune of banishing...all as written by the Green Witch, burned these ten years past." He took a breath, "Sigil of the Hatched Dawn, offerings to the spirits Land, Water, and Wind. The hooked scrawl of gibberscript, language of the fair folk that once plagued our woodlands. I inscribed the holy symbols, wrote the names of all the angels I could find, and smeared the blood of lesser beasts to draw my offering of self for them. Nothing but ghosts and shadows, failed magics and theories." His face lingered on Leonardo, "All of them."

He held up his joined wrists toward Corben, the light of the chapter house was harsh against his bandages, highlighting each imperfection, each drop of blood, each smeared chalk, or wax.

"I will be more use to you there, than here. Make your decision, Marshall, I do not think we have much time."
 
Lowering her bow to rest at her side, Jenra turned to face Eric, brushing a stray lock of hair from her eyes as she inclined her head respectfully. "Aloysius wanted me to be able to defend myself, and I thought it was a sensible endeavor," she replied. Though he had had no great skill in archery with which to teach her, they had both worked hard to see that she learned; it was one of the few things in which he was the one to teach his older sister. "It is good to see you again, Eric. I fear we may not be passing in the library halls quite as often now."

"Aloysius once mentioned to me that you train others in swordsmanship," She recalled, a weak, ghost of a smile briefly lighting her weary features, before fading away to a more serious expression. "I do not suppose you could teach me, at least the basics? I am better with a bow, but a bow is not always the best weapon..."
 
"Well…" Eric scratched at an itch behind his ear as he thought about it, "I suppose we could, if that is your request Cathair." Quietly he beckoned Jenra toward a weapon rack near the entranceway where several worn and marred training swords were held. Before Jenra could choose a false blade however Eric noticed Castanamir approaching.

Taking a few steps away from Jenra Eric greeted Castanamir, they exchanged a few pleasantries before Castanamir got down to his reason for being there, his voice lowering into hushed tones. Jenra could not hear the exchange but noticed the change in Eric's demeanor. With a wave Castanamir was gone again, leaving a troubled Eric in his wake.

Yet another Fateguard had fallen from grace?

"Unfortunately our training will have to wait for another day Miss Cathair, I am summoned to the common room" Eric quietly said. He frowned as he considered his options. "Perhaps it would be best if you accompanied me, then you can see with your own eyes what we now deal with." The training grounds were but a short walk from the common room. Quickly they walked past the courtyards now filled with dozens of recruits and their trainers, the sun climbing ever higher into the sky.

Silently they filed into the darkened common room behind the other Fateguard members, the "interrogation" was already ongoing. No one noticed the two as Leonardo berated his half-brother and hands fought to restrain him from Malwin. Eric brought his finger up to his lips, motioning for Jenra to be quiet.

Quietly they waited and observed from the shadows.
 
Alyss had stood by as Leonardo stormed by- and even as he lifted Malwin from his seat, she was frozen. Her eyes focused on the Poisoner, unable to pull her gaze away. Calm.... she had to keep calm- it was all she could do right now... anger and poorly contained emotion would not help.

Her eyes drifted to the ground as Malwin had spoken of what all he had done, looking up at him every now and then, uncertain.

Was this what she had wanted? For his family to perish? Hadn't a small part of her always regretted being the mistress- being the other woman? No... she had never wanted something like this... she had never wanted him to be in pain, and... the fact that he had fought so hard to preserve his family, by any means necessary- made her... feel uneasy.

Sure, what they had been doing the past six months hadn't been moral or right, but... in some small part, she had thought that what they had done, was something that not many could understand... Her first time had been with this man, and the gravity of it sunk in. Had none of it mattered? Had things changed?

Calm... She had to calm herself. Emotions in this situation would only bring confusion. He loved his family, of course he'd try to save them in any way possible. Still... it pained her to see the depths of what he'd go through for them. She wanted that.... she wanted that devotion and love... She had come to crave the closeness that they had.... and what was going to happen now?

Had she mistaken all those trysts for simple need, animalistic and meaningless?

Still, she continued, not knowing any other way to go.

Her eyes drifted to the others, focusing on Tahan with some confusion- still uncertain of the person. And Leonardo...

"We need to have level heads about us- yelling and fighting and trying to intimidate Malwin into possibly giving us more information... it won't work. We need to stand together against the threat against our homes- Our duty is to our people, first- is it not? As I said, we should take care of this grave danger first, and deal with Malwin's mistakes and actions later." She spoke quietly, looking back to Malwin, taking a small breath, having said what she thought was needed.
 
Corben had one hand splayed on Leonardo's chest, holding him while Derek locked his other arm. Between them they had separated the envenomed brothers. With one sibling at arm's length, the Marshall looked to other as he gave his account. Then his eyes shifted to Alyss, and he nodded to what she said. And as, behind the girl's shoulder, Eric and Jenra arrived, Corben spoke out to them.

"Eric," he called to his former mentor, "The Rove Maw has returned." The name would resonate soon enough. Though Eric had faced threats beyond number, the legend of the ever-shifting chasm was memorable enough. "What you thought all those years ago is correct - it comes for families of three. Two parents, one child. The pattern is proven."

He looked back to Malwin. "Only this time it was interrupted. Malwin's family died before the chasm fully opened. Perhaps he has frozen it, or perhaps his dabbling has given it more to feed on."

The Marshall stepped forward, gripping the bound wrists that Malwin held out. And as he did so he looked into the blinded pits of the man's eyes, as if by force of sincerity he would be made manifest. "You should have told us," the words were hissed. "Our standing with the people hangs by a thread, and you do this?!" He twisted the ropes a little, forgetting himself in frustration. "Pray those soldiers stay silent, Malwin, or you have poisoned us all."

If the hole grew larger... if the walls gave out... if Malwin's house collapsed and left its entrails exposed... if the townsfolk saw what was inside... it would be the end for all of them.

And his own family... a wife and one child... what would become of them?

He pulled the man to his feet. A blade glinted in the light. The ropes were cut. "You will take us to your home. Atlas will conceal your dark materials, and Heinrich will convey the corpses of your wife and child. But there will be no burial till this task is done. You held their bodies in your hands - now you hold their souls. They will not get to heaven, till we have gone to hell."

He let Malwin's hands free, then turned once to inspect the circle of his fellows. His eyes fell on their new recruit.

"Jenra... this peril is too great for a novice. I do not ask you to come."
 

For one to enter Erilyn's home, one must pass first by her brother, who is often at work in the front of the house with his blacksmithing. He works hard for his coin, knowing well that there are other blacksmiths in the city whose work never falters or ceases in quality. To compete, each day, he must put his entire effort into crafting each piece. This is his daily life, one which his sister sometimes flits through, aiding him with some of the tasks when she has the time. He watches her weary frame when she returns home with concern, knows that this work which she volunteers for may one day be her death. He knows what importance sleep has to her and he guards her from being woken with great vigilance when she returns in such a state.

This was the reason why Castanamir's bird encountered such difficulty in rousing her from her slumber to join the commotion with Malwin - the large man swiping at it with his calloused hands was something of a deterrent. Still, the bird is single-minded and loyal to its master and its cause. After much evasion and maneuvering, the bird gained entry and wasted no time in waking Erilyn.

With a start, Erilyn sat up from her bed, her eyes still bleary with the remnants of sleep that clung to the lids. She covered her mouth with her hand and yawned, looking for the source of her sudden consciousness. The bird was there, Castanamir's messenger. The Fateguard called and to send the bird, Erilyn could only assume that the message was one of great import. The sense of urgency left her little time in donning her clothes, feeling grateful to once again be properly attired for fighting. Beneath her mail, she wore a light leather vest and a cloth shirt once more, pants for easily movement... she rejoiced silently in the feeling, though her body still ached somewhat. Her wound was at least healed, now, a puckering pale scar across her shoulder that had already begun to fade. She kissed the silver links and returned the ornament to her neck.

Before her brother could say a word, she had grabbed both sword and shield. "We will talk later, I promise it!" she called to him as he opened his mouth to stop her. Without another word, she fled from her home and she made haste, following the bird who flew overhead to lead her. She paid hardly any attention to the streets she traversed, her eyes turned upward. Only when she could clearly hear Corben's voice did she follow that instead, her eyes alert and scanning the scene for danger. The circumstances that she found herself in, whoever, made the cause of the call no more clear.

"What is going on?"
​
 
Jenra looked up at Corben, almost surprised at being addressed; after a moment, she turned her gaze away again in thought.

She was a novice. Despite having been trained in the basics by her brother, she had never faced the threats all the others had before. She had seen her brother's wounds, listened to him speak of those who were lost to the battle against that which assaulted their city nightly...

Yet, it seemed to her--would this peril be greater than that which would face her when the city was attacked again? Or would Corben have her stay out of the fighting, and for how long?

"...I have read of the Rove Maw, in a book in the library," she finally stated. "Perhaps the peril is great, moreso for how little is known of it. But do you not face such threats every night you protect our city?" She looked up once more, meeting Corben's gaze steadily. "I joined that I might aid the FateGuard. If you feel that I will be more hindrance than help, then I will stay behind. But I will not shy from danger. If you would have me, I will go."
 
As Erilyn entered, it was Eric who stood aside with her and detailed what she had missed. And it was very sight - his old mentor engaged in tutelage - that confirmed Corben's decision. The Marshall looked back to Jenra and nodded.

"I was a novice when I first encountered the Rove Maw. I would not deny you the same rite."

Then his eyes swept the others. The scuffle had, by chance, left a division in their standing - Leonardo on one side of the room with Derek keeping him back, Tahan hovering close. And on the other side, Malwin, stood with Alyss. And though Jenra, Eric and Erilyn completed the circle, the sense of extremes was symbolised. Since the night of the dragons, division had crept its way like poison into the FateGuard.

The words of Bishop Wallstein rang clear in his memory. If the Church had its way this Chapterhouse would be the abode of mindless Legionnaires, abominations filling every rank. And the human tapestries of love, revenge and family honour strung between these watchmen would be torn out and replaced by child-killers more savage than Tahan.

"We must stand as one," Corben spoke out to the assembled group. "Tonight, as every night. An evil from a generation ago has returned, and whatever Malwin has done, it yet remains that he has a given us a chance to face that evil. So fetch your weapons and your armour and march with me today."

Though betrayal and witchcraft had weakened them of late, they would be forged anew tonight.


* * * * * *​


It was a rare occasion to see the FateGuard assembled, and rarer still to see them in full regalia. As Corben led the watchmen down the King's Street the group was met with as many curious stares as fearful ones. Children rushed to see their protectors in the light of day, while washer-women came to point and gossip. Still there were those - old men and young maids - who came for blessings, for a chance to touch the artefacts made hallow by Church and Guild.

Thus by this one procession the pulse of the city was taken. Some came close to Corben and Derek and laid hands on their armour, seeking blessings as they were gently pushed aside. And meanwhile children were pulled back from the grim sights of Tahan, Leonardo and Malwin, warnings uttered by fearful mothers. And then gazes lecherous or musing followed Erilyn and Jenra. Rumours would be sparked afresh this day, new paintings inspired and whispers begun.

Corben, the cuckold, whose wife framed Elayna for treason and snatched her home. Derek, the malcontent, waiting to betray his Marshall and be alone with the Queen once more. Leonardo and Malwin, attended by devils, killing the infirm in their hospital beds. Alyss, the demon child, who seduced her own father. Eric, the walking dead, soul lost to the Outside and now but a shade controlled by others. Erilyn, the true heir to the throne, waiting to depose the House of Ganthor. Jenra, sister to a traitor, infiltrating the heart of the Watch.

As they took the alley to Malwin's home, some of their number stayed behind, among them Castanamir, Jelyssa and Marcus. They kept any crowd at bay who sought to follow, and ensured the others would not be troubled in their investigation.


* * * * * *​


And thus, by the stroke of 1, the FateGuard entered Malwin's home. At last they beheld the bizarre grotto of symbols and spiderweb designs, some painted in blood and others in enchanted powder. Magic retained a raw charge in the air and misted their breaths. It was as if Malwin had made manifest the most tortured chambers of his mind. Pages of ancient tomes fluttered in the breeze, while empty jars and vials were disturbed by their unsteady footfalls.

Few could imagine the heartache that unfolded here - the week after week of desperate, Faustian, endeavour.

Heydrich had moved quickly to the bodies of Malwin's wife and child, their shapes strangely twisted and shrunken beneath the bedsheets, while Atlas had proceeded to gather up the candles on the floor. As they went discreetly about the business of concealing these horrors, Derek knelt to grip the blanket in the centre of the room. A nod from Malwin, then from Corben, was all the instruction he needed. The blanket was pulled, and the Rove Maw unveiled.

rove.jpg

"Smaller than before," Eric commented, circling one edge while Corben paced the other, armour clanking.

"It must have been opening as his family died. Since it could not take them together, the spell was frozen."

There was a clatter as Dyne unrolled a rope ladder. The climbing specialist would be manning the ropes from the surface as the others went down. As the ladder descended Corben crouched and leaned his head out over the hole. The smell of the dank, festering dark was subtle but unmistakeable. "I see smooth walls. Lower than the sewers. Something has been built down there for sure."

He glanced up to watch Heydrich wrap the bodies of the woman and child, while behind him Atlas washed the walls in sage water. Together with Dyne this would be the trio remaining behind. And they each knew the stakes. If the Rove Maw closed while the others were down there, then there was no telling what rescue could be mounted. Atlas had spoken of holding spells, Dyne of scaffold braces, Heydrich of finding a way to the Chapterhouse tunnels. But in truth, there was no guarantee. Tonight, as every night, the FateGuard lived by the sword.

But Corben vowed that he would end tonight the roving of the Maw. It would not take another family... it would not take his...

He would not suffer Malwin's tragedy.

 
Unfailingly, Tahan had paid a visit to his own Chapterhouse before the expedition set off. The news he relayed to the Father caused his brow to wrinkle, and he stared long into the candlelight.

"You will have to don the carapace." He spoke into the flickering flame, perhaps recalling what the prior Legionnaire had told him that day. "The paths inside the spawn will be slick and narrow, and you will not be able to move much."

Tahan would not have disobeyed, in any case. He stood patiently outside as the white-robed attendants reassembled his Armour around him, piece by piece. Each large section, a patchwork of reptilian hide, dragon bone, leathery skin, and horse-tail sutures, was sealed against the next with black sludge that hardened into a gelatinous substance moments after application, yielding supple joints. As the pieces adhered to his skin, he felt the momentary sting of cold. It was not cold in the sense of a early winter's morn - it was the stabbing cold of emptiness. Scriptures, scratched with burning ink into his skin, flared in response, balancing the frost until his entire body was numb.

All went dull, dark as the helmet descended over his eyes. He stared through the eye sockets, and momentarily the attendants could see his eyes too. But a grey fog washed his eyes, and suddenly he felt as if he was seeing through the wrong end of a spyglass - everything was tiny and far away. His breathing rang in the black confines. He flexed his hand, saw it flex, but could not feel it flex. It was a familiar feeling, and he commanded his body to move without waiting for his legs to tell him they were moving. Disorienting at first, second nature by now.

---

The suit of carapace did not attract too much attention as it wandered down the streets with the rest of the FateGuard. Most of it had been covered with a brilliant white cloth with gold embroidery on the edges. Only the handle of the sword and the black skull protruded from the top. It even stopped to briefly place an armoured, finely segmented hand on the head of a boy before he was dragged back into the crowd.

It wasn't quite right though. With every step it left a faint footprint behind; the shoes seemed rotten. Misted breaths came from the jaws of the skull, but the teeth were welded shut and the frost in the chilly air seeped through the teeth. If the noise and commotion that followed the FateGuard could be stilled for but a minute, it breathed in rasps, like a survivor of attack on the constitution of the lung.

---

"Not built by Man, indeed." The carapace gazed, impassively, into the Maw.
 
Derek's fist clenched as they walked down the street. Fancy white cloth or no there was no fooling Derek. He knew what was hidden beneath it. The church's hellish monstrosity with that twisted little son of a bitch inside of it. Derek thought back to the dragons and the assassins. He would not let Tahan leave the tunnels with anything of the rove maw. As he glared under his helmet he nudged Corben with his elbow. Once he was sure he had his attention he subtlety pointed at Tahan with his thumb. The response he received was two short nods. Derek nodded knowingly back at the marshal once then looked forward again. It was a wordless exchange between them but the message was clear.

"We'll talk about him later."

-----

"So this is it, then?" Derek looked down the mouth of the hole in the ground, "I certainly hope it opens up down there. Corben and I will have a hard enough time fighting in tight spaces," Derek looked up to Arkavenn, "On the other hand...you, my friend, might actually get stuck down there if it doesn't open up," Derek futilely squinted his eyes in an attempt to look down further. Dropping a large bag on the ground torches that he had taken from the remnants of Ferrick's supply spilled onto the floor, "Shall we throw one of the torches down there? Perhaps we'll be able to see the bottom."
 
Alyss walked in silence, near to Malwin- and perhaps, walking closer to him than she should have, in hindsight. her eyes focused on the ground as she moved forward, unsure of what to do, or what to say. Dressed in her full armor, along with a hooded cape, it was all she could do to keep people from seeing her face- her hands were more or less fine at this point, only covered in a slight sheen of ice, where as her face was much worse, and her body...

How many times had she wanted to reach for Malwin's hand in the face of all of this? How many times had she looked to him, wondering his intent?

She reached back, feeling her bow and sighed as they finally got to the house... his house...

Alyss shook her head of the improper thoughts and memories. Now wasn't the time to think of this. As they had entered, she wanted to keep her head down, she wanted to keep her eyes from seeing what Malwin might have done- and yet, this was why relationships of this type were never really... they interfered with work. She shook her head again, and as she lifted her head, a sense of disappointment gripped her. He had gone so far and struggled through all of this, if just to preserve them for a while longer...

As the Maw was revealed, she peered into it and blinked a bit. This was the problem? A hole? Obviously, it had come before and caused problems according to Corben, but it was a hole.... what could a... she felt some semblance of danger from it in that instance. Alright, don't underestimate your enemy...

"Malwin.... when did it exactly appear?" She asked, turning to the man. Had it appeared as the last breath of the wife and daughter had been taken? Was it as Malwin had been performing all manners of ways to try to keep his family? When did this thing appear in this home?
 

The light of the sun shone benevolent on the backs of the Watch, giving no hint to the terrible sight they were about to encounter as they walked the street in a single troop. There was division amongst the ranks, a sense of tearing, but as they marched over the streets to the house of Malwin, they were one. She glittered in the light, a pensive expression on her features that contrasted how she sparkled like a jewel as the sun danced off of her chain mail and shield. There were whispers that could be half-heard as they strode through the streets, barely audible murmurs that might sting the ears of the newest, Jenra, but would garner no malice from the rest, who were used to these words dogging their footsteps. It occurred to Erilyn, with a small shock, that she was no longer the newest members of the Fateguard. Still the youngest, newest member of the council, but in the Watch she was finally a senior. The thought was sobering and she made up her mind to do all she could to act the part.

When they reached Malwin's home, the air surrounding them seemed to change perceptibly. It hung in the air like a stench, this feeling of evil, and gave the warm breeze an icy undertone. Too young to have encountered the Rove Maw, she listened hungrily to the words. Here, Eric was still teaching, still aiding her as he recounted the story of how Malwin came to be a widower. Few of their number had encountered the Rove Maw, for it was few who would see the beast and live, that much was apparent. There was tragedy here, everyone could feel it and even if they could not, the twisted shapes of what was once Malwin's wife and child made a sharp reminder of the fact. The bodies were horrific shapes and Erilyn desired to avert her eyes but she forced herself to examine them from where she stood. This was the work of the Maw, the state that they had been left in? A fearsome creature indeed.

As the rest stepped forward to the hole in the earth, she also followed almost to the edge. The gaping hole in the earth impressed upon Erilyn the enormity of what they would be dealing with and the lethal end that they might face. She drew back slightly and her hand went to Eric's shoulder while her gaze caught his, trying not to show the tendrils of fear that flickered through her mind at the scene.

"You've faced this before... and killed it? Then, it can be done and we shall, right?" The idea of throwing a torch down was one that she would support, especially if they were to follow this overlarge rabbit hole into the earth.
​
 
He followed him into the valley of shadows, fearing no evil from the roving maw. Only betrayal. Betrayal of the one who claimed that nothing had worked. Yet Leonardo felt the answer to Malwin's stinging accusations in his heart. Of course the prayers to God had not worked if he tried so many other blasphemous techniques. Desperation clouded his bastard half-brother's thoughts more than the Poisoner could realize. Faithless heathen. Not even for a single night could he stay loyal to any religion when it came down to a true test of faith. Saint found little surprise at this conclusion though.

Upon seeing the bodies of Malwin's deceased wife and child for himself, wrath kept silent through sheer will burned inside of his heart. Did the Roving Maw really do this to them? No trust existed for the widower within him. Rage would not find itself directed at the Poisoner again though. . . at least until their current mission had ended. Attacking Malwin in front of the others once today was enough given the severity of the situation.

Down in the cavernous passage, little room existed for him to swing his Combat Crucifix enough to gain proper momentum. Until a wider chamber was reached he would have to depend on his faith in the symbol itself to drive back any unholy terrors up ahead. Near him stood Tahan within the ominous Carapace armour. Prayer for the soul of his ally whispered through the air so quiet that only the Lord in heaven could hear it. One day he would find a way to somehow save the youth from corruption at the hands of the Church. But for now all he could do was pray for his soul's safety. Tonight there were more important matters that required immediate action.
 
Alyss spoke with Malwin; Erilyn spoke with Eric. Jenra and Leonardo held discourse with silent thoughts. And Corben stood over the hole with Tahan on his left and Derek on his right... as if doing so was all that kept them from each other's throats.

"Dyne. Light it up."

Their climbing expert, having secured the rope ladder to the stone hearth, returned to the group while drawing a metwood stick. The twig came from a rare tree in the Aborhen Forest, found now and then by the logging parties. Its sap enabled slow-burning and was favoured by architects and Eldritch servants who wished to avoided accidents with larger, unwieldy torches. Lighting it with flint and tinder, Dyne tossed the metwood over the edge.

The FateGuard watched the sphere of illumination drop, like some food-piece caught in a great swallowing action. It showed the roughened walls of the Maw, root-riddled and damp from sewerage. Then the smoother side of keystones and foundation struts. There was a shift in the brightness as the stick dropped into a larger cavern, then sparks as it struck a floor. There was a surface, about fifty feet below - deeper than anything the Pilgrims had built.

"At least we have something to walk on."

Dyne nodded and sent the other end of the rope ladder tumbling over the edge. The rope-strung slats of wood clattered against the stone and came to a swaying halt in the pool of light. By the swing they could make out that the chamber was much wider than the initial hole. There would be plenty of elbow-room to be had.

Corben knelt and gripped the first slat, his head tilted to Heydrich, who had finished wrapping the bodies of Malwin's family. "Richtor. The Guard is yours until our return."

The Bannerguard nodded and, delicately, hoisted the body of Malwin's wife up onto his shoulder. Nearby Atlas was lighting blessed candles and placing them around the edge of the hole. With light and fragrance returned to the hovel it lifted Corben's spirits. He slid down the visor of his helmet then, with a single breath, swung his weight out onto the rope ladder.

The descent brought sweat inside his armour, a cold and itching buzz as if the acid of the Maw was eating through him. The marshall would have preferred to see bodies - to glimpse in candlelight the bones and blood-flecks of the dozens this throat had swallowed. But instead there was only cold and lifeless stone - no trace of the children, wives and fathers who had been dragged into the dark. Only in the rushing of his breath through the mouth-guard, in the twisting of the slats and the creaking of his armour, might one discern the echo of tears, the fading of screams.

When his thirtieth footstep dropped to the next rung, it did not come to rest against stone, but swung out into darkness. Corben tottered slightly, stopped, fixed his grip and footing, then looked down. Darkness encircled his lower half, with only the beam of light from the metwood twig below. He had arrived at the belly - the unknown cavern. There was only the smell of ancient stone and the distant chime of waterdrops.

And two rungs left below him.

If only Aloysius was with him now... to see what he could not...

Corben closed his eyes, and thought again of his wife and child, soon to be sleeping above these catacombs. He could not betray their trust... the trust of the city.


He swung his legs out, took three short breaths, then released his grip.

The drop seemed like an eternity - a silent plummet before the crash of metal against stone. Corben dropped into a crouch beside the metwood twig, his knee-guards coming down against the damp floor, his hand splaying, his heart pounding.

He had made it.
 
"It appeared at the stroke of midnight," Malwin whispered to Alyss, "And it has remained."

He offered no more explanation as the bodies were taken from his home, the evidence slowly obscured. He walked with a sort of languid acceptance, a tranquility alien to a grieving man. Before he entered the maw, he paused to take a simple case from beneath a floorboard. When queried, wordlessly, by Alyss and some of the others, the poisoner simply shook it, to a clatter of glass, and said "Poisons, for whatever we may encounter." And then slipped down the rope.

Landing behind Corben, what was inky pitch to them was illuminated clearly to the darkness dweller. The tunnel was seemingly jagged, hewn of stone Gothenheim stood upon. But the edges were deceitful. In truth, worn mosaics, patterns, ancient words were scrawled across the walls and roof of the tunnel. Time had long since held its vigil here, silently obscuring the truth with centuries of practice, but under Malwin's eyes...they were clear.

He shuffled in front of Corben, his worn feet tapping down the passageway until it inevitably plunged deeper into the darkness.

"Come, come," he chanted back to them "We appear to be in some kind of ruin." To emphasize, he snatched the torch from Corben and dashed forward, a single flickering light against an assemblage of shadow. There was a moment where it tipped, flipped, and then bright crackling light grew from a brazier in the center of a massive chamber. The walls were smoother here, the ceiling purposefully domed. Age old bones, more the outlines of figures rather than their remains, were strewn against a heavy stone door, piled as if several had perished holding it closed.

Strange symbols spoke gibberish to them, pictures of men with halos all bowing to a single man...one who bore a crown of such celestial radiance; it almost glowed through the master carving. The purpose of this place was religious, surely, but demons did not leer from the portraits. The figures were similar to those the Fateguard was familiar with, robes and symbols of faith, halos around their head, depicted as sages of celestial brilliance rather than savage devil worshipers.

It was obvious this place had lost itself long ago to time.

The stone door in the chamber a simple slab of pure, smooth, white stone. On it, strange letters seemed to swim under the flickering light.

PURE OF HEART it said to any who examined the letters closely. It was not as if the letters shifted to promote understanding, but those who looked upon the writing on the door would understand its purpose, as if some being of power had plucked meaning from the shapes and placed them directly in the eyes of those who wondered.

The great stone door…was already open. A small space, a vein of darkness where there should be none, pulsed from the right of the stone door. Someone had opened this place before, and by the footprints in the dust along the bodies, one adult pair and one smaller, a child's…it had been done recently.
 

Leonardo followed right after Malwin without giving the others a chance to contest the order of descent. Not even Erilyn or Tahan. Certainly not Derek. Perhaps he did not trust their leader and his bastard half-brother to be alone together in an abyss torn asunder by a lone torch. So down the rope he went with the Combat Crucifix harnessed to his back. At some point he realized the bandages interacted with the fabric of the rope in a strange way. Going down along it felt too easy and almost slippery if anything. Would that make climbing back up more difficult for him? Perhaps his hands would need to come un-bandaged for the climb back up. In which case, he might volunteer to head back up last out of all the FateGuard present if possible.

Once light grew in the chamber to the point that those without tainted eyes could see, a small gasp of surprise escaped Saint. Right after it did his hand came up to cover his own mouth. Would the others even notice? After all some were still coming down the rope this very moment while a few even remained up at the top. Or would they be so engrossed in what lay before them that they would cease to remain alert? Years of strange sights failed to prepare him for the elaborate religious ruins of this decrepit abyss.

Leonardo started to get ahead of all the others in searching the chamber. Perhaps he felt there were clues masquerading as art? Dark foreboding in his heart conflicted with an eerie familiarity lurking somewhere in his soul that drew him toward the heavy stone door. It tugged him forth by the heartstrings to examine each symbol with individual care. But with only his eyes. Reverence for this mysterious place bloomed in his heart the moment he had laid eyes upon the master carving.

Now he approached the stone door directly with cautious steps befitting a man treading in the presence of God. Saint stared at the symbols until the knowledge of what they said was revealed unto him. Curiosity then gripped his heart for the first time as gentle whispers tickled both ears. Leonardo let his eyes close only to witness flashes of the past that consumed his brain and seared themselves into his retinas. Once more he was made to relive the night of his own burning that the bandages now hid from sight. Unbeknownst to him, his left hand started to reach out toward the words as though an unseen force compelled him. But then Saint stopped just an inch shy upon coming back to his senses. Pulling himself away from the carved words, he started to retreat with steady steps that showed caution had returned once more.

Until he spotted the fresh footprints on the ground.

Despite his insubordinate actions earlier, he went straight to Corben.

"Corben, I fear this place was not meant for the likes of the living. We must tread carefully. Disturbing anything could reap what was sewn here ages ago. However, someone has arrived here before us. There are footprints by that stone door. And they belong not to me."
 
The sound of metal on stone resonated throughout the corridor as Derek landed below. As he looked around the chamber he drew Alondite from its sheath and drew upon its power just enough that the light radiating from it would light his surroundings. The brighter light allowed the FateGuard more vision, but it was otherwise too impractical as a light source, especially with him swinging it around. Taking the time between descents he looked up at the hole in the ground. This was the so-called rove maw? Even as a member of the FateGuard and having seen many a bizarre thing in his time the idea of a malevolent hole was ridiculous. His mind wandered thinking of possible causes. None of them were particularly enjoyable, "This isn't going to be very pleasant..." he muttered to no one in particular.

Looking up to the footsteps that Leonardo pointed out Derek carefully crept over to the door. Though it was already cracked open somewhat he wouldn't dare open it without the rest of the FateGuard. His mind wandered back to the hole, "I think we can safely write that hole off as the least of our problems. Whatever it is that causes these holes must be down here. Be it man, beast, or magic...whatever it is causing the holes is the true rove maw as far as I'm concerned."

What disturbed Derek most was what if he was wrong and the holes were something that couldn't be determined? The FateGuard couldn't defeat holes that open and close themselves. And if they failed to stop it here then there was the very real possibility that he would end up in these ruins again in another fourteen years...with another family dead...a family whom at that point could be his own. And with that came his declaration, "But whatever it may be, we'll stop it for good this time. Let us make this the rove maw's final apperance."
 
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