SonicSouls
Active Member
- Joined
- Dec 26, 2020
- Messages
- 44
Chapter One
Normally a collector wasn’t tasked with apprehending nonexistent threats, but tonight’s sinners were just that. Collector Marina knew this and the quest’s true purpose, but had to pretend otherwise to expose the conspiracy. She trotted her horse through the shattered forest of Redemptionis Leprosi.
“I know you’re watching me,” Marina said.
Her blessed mask, a bauta, gave her an androgynous voice. Its uncanniness complemented its bone white plaster and protruding square jawline. The shadows of pursuing locals trembled because of it. Marina swore she heard their blasphemy in the wind. They claimed her hat, a tricorno, hid three horns, and its attached hijab hid a skull. Others said her uniform’s multilayered fabric imparted an androgynous appearance to further mask the truth. She chuckled.
“What?” Marina said, “Afraid that beneath my uniform lurks a… revenant?”
She smirked.
“If only you knew the wisdom of Matre Luna. Maybe then you’d stop worshipping Matre Terra. What’s this, fifth time they’ve destroyed Redemptionis Leprosi?”
She began chortling, but stopped upon remembering why people didn’t worship Matre Luna like they used to. But that was why she was here, and why the locals were pursuing her. However, they were willfully blind sheep herded by superstition, thus posing no threat. But did the pealing bells?
Her eyes darted at every sound but stopped when her vision became colored smudges. She realized that the wind was causing her to shiver like she was having a seizure. Shivering showed weakness, thus dishonoring her rank. She tried to stop but couldn’t, and her eyes became watery.
“F-forgive me Matre Luna… I mean it this time.”
She sniveled. At least her blessed blindfold hid the dishonorable behavior while still allowing her to see. But perhaps she didn’t deserve to see what Matre Luna taught. The branches thrashed, snapping her from thought. She fumbled to draw her rapier. Digging her nails into the cloth talisman wrapped around its grip, she jabbed her rapier at sudden sounds.
“Why don’t yah come out huh? Afraid of my talisman and its invocation, aren’t you?”
Silence. She realized that the wind had picked up, and she blushed.
“Get a hold of yourself. No one’s following--”
She clamped her mouth shut. What was she saying? Why else would there be creaking branches and especially those pealing bells? Her psyche interjected that the wind was responsible, but part of her claimed that was the brainwashing’s remnants speaking and not her true voice. She gritted her teeth.
“Damn that brainwashing.”
Her eyes widened.
“A-ah ha! Thought it was still affecting me, didn’t you? Shut it! I know you’re laughing!”
For reasons she couldn’t explain, the bells seemed to peal in response.
“Laugh at yourself you’re the willfully blind sheep oh I suppose I should ‘splain that shouldn’t I? Shame never be able to understand miserable Terraites you are.”
She gasped and struggled to catch her breath, then began gagging on corpses’ miasma. Part of her psyche said it couldn’t be corpses, and the wind intensified the miasma’s pungency seemingly in response. It knew that the miasma faintly permeated the forest since she first heard the bells. Bells, she thought, could it be… them?
She forced herself to count to ten before sighing. It couldn’t be “them” because that meant the locals weren’t lying about those corpses, and that couldn’t be true. But were they lying about the other corpses?
“You Terraites always weaving yarns ‘bout monsters haunting whatever. I know there’s no… is that seriously its name? ‘Sin-see-kwee’?”
Her tongue knotted. The “Synnsequi” sounded like a drunken yarn in name and concept. Probably was. Or was that what the conspirators wanted her to think? Yarns like this were so commonplace amongst Terraites as to be mundane, especially around here. It would have been the perfect ruse had she not been aware of their deception.
She cringed at the corpses’ miasma, and she knew it couldn’t be anything else. But did that mean she was wrong? No, she told herself; local yarns always had a kernel of truth suffocating beneath the superstitious delusions. Maybe there was a Synnsequi, but it was some psychopath clad in cultish garb. Or did they want her to think that?
One bell grew louder as she rounded a corner. She jerked the reins back and the horse lurched to a halt. A corpse hung upside-down from a tree. Its bulbous deformities and leather-like skin rendered its gender nebulous. Marina’s breathing accelerated.
“It’s just leprosy just leprosy just leprosy gah!”
She bit her lip and inspected the corpse. It was a “leper”, the slur for leprosy-infected people, and they were twice a victim. Once it was from Matre Terra cursing them for supposed sin and another from whoever or whatever murdered them.
Their pilgrim gown was shredded, revealing skin white as her bauta. Bloodstains trailed downward from its lacerations. Marina followed them and then recoiled. The head was swollen and red, but not from being drenched in blood. As the branches holding it bobbed, she heard blood swishing in its head.
A hard-viscous lump formed in her throat and she struggled to force it down. Only the Terraites could envision something this bestial as punishment. Probably shallow symbolism they construed as profound philosophy. Terraites were fanatics for that and grotesque art. Maybe that was why the twilight was illuminating the corpse like it was in a painting.
“In the name of Matre Luna…”
A shadow twitched and she jabbed her rapier at it.
“Tranquilla Aqua!”
Her talisman glowed, and a head-sized water sphere materialized where the shadow was.
“Ha! How you like my invocation… now?”
Normally a collector wasn’t tasked with apprehending nonexistent threats, but tonight’s sinners were just that. Collector Marina knew this and the quest’s true purpose, but had to pretend otherwise to expose the conspiracy. She trotted her horse through the shattered forest of Redemptionis Leprosi.
“I know you’re watching me,” Marina said.
Her blessed mask, a bauta, gave her an androgynous voice. Its uncanniness complemented its bone white plaster and protruding square jawline. The shadows of pursuing locals trembled because of it. Marina swore she heard their blasphemy in the wind. They claimed her hat, a tricorno, hid three horns, and its attached hijab hid a skull. Others said her uniform’s multilayered fabric imparted an androgynous appearance to further mask the truth. She chuckled.
“What?” Marina said, “Afraid that beneath my uniform lurks a… revenant?”
She smirked.
“If only you knew the wisdom of Matre Luna. Maybe then you’d stop worshipping Matre Terra. What’s this, fifth time they’ve destroyed Redemptionis Leprosi?”
She began chortling, but stopped upon remembering why people didn’t worship Matre Luna like they used to. But that was why she was here, and why the locals were pursuing her. However, they were willfully blind sheep herded by superstition, thus posing no threat. But did the pealing bells?
Her eyes darted at every sound but stopped when her vision became colored smudges. She realized that the wind was causing her to shiver like she was having a seizure. Shivering showed weakness, thus dishonoring her rank. She tried to stop but couldn’t, and her eyes became watery.
“F-forgive me Matre Luna… I mean it this time.”
She sniveled. At least her blessed blindfold hid the dishonorable behavior while still allowing her to see. But perhaps she didn’t deserve to see what Matre Luna taught. The branches thrashed, snapping her from thought. She fumbled to draw her rapier. Digging her nails into the cloth talisman wrapped around its grip, she jabbed her rapier at sudden sounds.
“Why don’t yah come out huh? Afraid of my talisman and its invocation, aren’t you?”
Silence. She realized that the wind had picked up, and she blushed.
“Get a hold of yourself. No one’s following--”
She clamped her mouth shut. What was she saying? Why else would there be creaking branches and especially those pealing bells? Her psyche interjected that the wind was responsible, but part of her claimed that was the brainwashing’s remnants speaking and not her true voice. She gritted her teeth.
“Damn that brainwashing.”
Her eyes widened.
“A-ah ha! Thought it was still affecting me, didn’t you? Shut it! I know you’re laughing!”
For reasons she couldn’t explain, the bells seemed to peal in response.
“Laugh at yourself you’re the willfully blind sheep oh I suppose I should ‘splain that shouldn’t I? Shame never be able to understand miserable Terraites you are.”
She gasped and struggled to catch her breath, then began gagging on corpses’ miasma. Part of her psyche said it couldn’t be corpses, and the wind intensified the miasma’s pungency seemingly in response. It knew that the miasma faintly permeated the forest since she first heard the bells. Bells, she thought, could it be… them?
She forced herself to count to ten before sighing. It couldn’t be “them” because that meant the locals weren’t lying about those corpses, and that couldn’t be true. But were they lying about the other corpses?
“You Terraites always weaving yarns ‘bout monsters haunting whatever. I know there’s no… is that seriously its name? ‘Sin-see-kwee’?”
Her tongue knotted. The “Synnsequi” sounded like a drunken yarn in name and concept. Probably was. Or was that what the conspirators wanted her to think? Yarns like this were so commonplace amongst Terraites as to be mundane, especially around here. It would have been the perfect ruse had she not been aware of their deception.
She cringed at the corpses’ miasma, and she knew it couldn’t be anything else. But did that mean she was wrong? No, she told herself; local yarns always had a kernel of truth suffocating beneath the superstitious delusions. Maybe there was a Synnsequi, but it was some psychopath clad in cultish garb. Or did they want her to think that?
One bell grew louder as she rounded a corner. She jerked the reins back and the horse lurched to a halt. A corpse hung upside-down from a tree. Its bulbous deformities and leather-like skin rendered its gender nebulous. Marina’s breathing accelerated.
“It’s just leprosy just leprosy just leprosy gah!”
She bit her lip and inspected the corpse. It was a “leper”, the slur for leprosy-infected people, and they were twice a victim. Once it was from Matre Terra cursing them for supposed sin and another from whoever or whatever murdered them.
Their pilgrim gown was shredded, revealing skin white as her bauta. Bloodstains trailed downward from its lacerations. Marina followed them and then recoiled. The head was swollen and red, but not from being drenched in blood. As the branches holding it bobbed, she heard blood swishing in its head.
A hard-viscous lump formed in her throat and she struggled to force it down. Only the Terraites could envision something this bestial as punishment. Probably shallow symbolism they construed as profound philosophy. Terraites were fanatics for that and grotesque art. Maybe that was why the twilight was illuminating the corpse like it was in a painting.
“In the name of Matre Luna…”
A shadow twitched and she jabbed her rapier at it.
“Tranquilla Aqua!”
Her talisman glowed, and a head-sized water sphere materialized where the shadow was.
“Ha! How you like my invocation… now?”
