All she had ever known was a cycle of freedom and imprisonment. She eventually found that it was the invisible barriers that hurt more then the physical chains wrapped around her. The first chain she had discovered was her family, trapping her within the slums. It was this chain that brought about her first freedom, when her talent as a seer was discovered. In a sick cycle, this new freedom found her a second chain, when she was given away in lieu of a tithe that year. At the young old age at five she was taken from her family, her freedom lost so her parents could gain another year of freedom. She was given to the Imperial Seer Hall, where the extent of her talents as a seer was tested to the maxim.
It was then she lost many things, her name, her sense of self, and her mental guide for what was “normal”. Her talents as a seer were attributed to the caring light of the Fallen deity, who to this very day was still bleeding, allowing for such miracles as a poor girl from the slums to enter the quire of the sainted.
But, yet again, the shackles of her past would come up to chain her down and rob her of her freedom. As her past of living in the slums was brought up, it was decided that she would not be brough to the forefront of the imperial might, instead she would help spread the light in the darkness, joining the hidden inquisition of his martyred soul, the secret police of the Uurak Empire.
She was given a mask, a designation, and a holy purpose. She knew that she wasn’t free, but this chain was an honest one. She was trapped within this purpose, but she didn’t mind that, and if her missions were completed then high command didn’t care what she did with her free time. That isn’t to say there was no scrutiny, but within this scrutiny she was free to do what she willed. It was during one of these missions, hiding as one of the students within the royal academy, she first saw him. He was the royal consort to one of the princesses, she could never remember which one.
All she knew was that he was a commoner in a ceremonial role, much like her. The difference between the two infuriated her, for her job was to remain and die within the shadows. His was to live within the light. It frustrated her to no end, and she resented what she could not have. It was petty almost, and probably stemmed from her lack of indoctrination; her lack of faith was probably more related to this then not.
She had only seen him in passing, and so this wasn’t some all-consuming hatred, instead it was just that—something that burned like gasoline, fiercely, yet quickly. His espousal to the princess meant that his social status was rather high, especially coming from such an unassuming family. Other than this burning hatred she remembered almost nothing of him, and just like that her assignment just passed her by. With it at an end, everything associated with it died away. Her façade as a normal person, her hatred of him, and her time at the academy. Just like that, all these things faded away and became less then memories. If she wanted to recall she could, but why would she bother? These things were all just in passing, a footnote of a footnote.
Only two years later her life would change, and if it was for the better could only be seen with the time. She was assigned a strange mission, one that would have her go to the border and observe her target. The only details she was given was that her target was around the same age as her (seventeen) and that his previous occupation was that of a body double for an imperial consort. She was tasked with terminating her target, an all to familiar one with the current regime. Waiting within the shadows at the entrance of the portal she waited. Her mission statement was to ensure that the body double would die, his death would need to be a quiet one it seemed. What was even more strange was that usually these “kill” teams worked in duos of a seer and a higher ranked knight. They were told it was for their protection as seers were hard to come by; but it was a barely kept secret. Everyone knew the real reason was for the knights to keep and eye on the seers, an incident a couple years ago had forever cast doubt onto the reliability of the seer cast.
This time her knight wasn’t with her, but instead was tasked with remaining in the capital, on the other side of the portal. She knew that this wasn’t because of some perceived reward for her continued loyalty, it meant best case scenario this was an important mission and someone who she didn’t have the right to call “partner” was overseeing this mission, or worst-case scenario she was being watched, as she was the next kill target.
Sweat dripped down her back as she waited for her partner to give the signal. She could feel it, there was no concrete evidence, there was no proof of this, but she knew that today was her last mission with the empire. Either she would die, or she would escape into the shadows forever to be unseen. She soon was awakened from her nervous planning when the metal slab in her pocket began to vibrate, slowly at first but with an overwhelming intensity.
Off instinct she removed the metal from her cloak and tossed it a way away from her. It landed on the ground with a hollow thud and continued to shake with an increasing intensity. It was an entrapping scene for some reason and looking at it captivated her attention; it was almost like her senses were warning her that something big was about to occur.
Seemingly out of nowhere a sharp tearing sound ripped through the air that seemed to cut off all the sound in the bustling square. Whipping her head around to find the location of the sound inevitably saved her vision, almost as if the two events coincided a man and a puppet exited the portal just as the piece of metal shattered sending small pieces of shrapnel out, harmlessly hitting into the back side of her cloak. Almost panicking a little, she turned back around to see a small scorch mark where the piece of metal was and even before fully registering what occurred whipped her head back around to catch the sight of the puppet and the man leaving the square.
Cursing silently underneath her breathe she spirited herself closer to her target, always remaining behind a corner but within earshot of her mark. It was eerily silent watching them walk towards their destination. The man didn’t speak at all and neither did the puppet. They walked down the road at a moderate pace, and it was a very busy street, but a solemn silence seemed to follow them, like the world outside didn’t belong at all. It couldn’t even be described as an uncomfortable silence, instead it seemed to be a natural silence, like the silence before the beginning of a play or an opera. It was a silence of anticipation like the very world itself was waiting for something to happen.
Nothing transpired on their march from the main street to the very outskirts of the fortress settlement. Approaching an unassuming yet rundown house, she watched as the doorbell was rung by the puppet and waited with bated breath. She didn’t need to wait for long before the door was answered, and a tall and imposing grey knight stood in its open-door frame. She was shocked, as the grey armor meant it was a private knight, and the markings on the shoulder belonged to droungarios Shadrick who was in control of this fortress. What a private knight was doing so far from the fortress and in such a rundown shack was very suspicious and baited her interest, but nothing about droungarios Shadrick was mentioned, and as such her curiosity waned and refocused on the man in the wheelchair.
The Second shock came when the knight left, and the doorframe was refilled by an unassuming yet very familiar face. Even though he looked much older, even though his face was now pockmarked with warts and festering sores, she recognized that face. It was the face of the chain thought severed years ago, the face of the man who raised her for a period. The face of her surrogate father, the man who oversaw raising her during her younger days within the order of his martyred soul. He was at one point her handler, yet he was the one person she felt she could completely trust within the entire empire. He always seemed to have her best interests in mind, and part of her wanted to call out. But the training he had taught her done enough for this instinct to pass by silently. The last she had seen of him was only a couple months ago, and he was healthy and set for retirement, a very far change from where he was at now.
She knew that further observation would be difficult, so she melted into the shadows to find a better vantage point further away.
Time soon passed to night, and she found herself in a tree in the backyard of the house her mark was staying at. After a quick observation it soon became clear what this was, an undead farm, where those cursed to becoming an undead were allowed to do so, then terminated so their bodies could be harvested for the rare materials created as a byproduct of their transformation. It was a disgusting practice, an underground one kept secret from most people, yet one that was common in every slum in the Empire, and its practice wasn’t illegal. This didn’t bother her much, as she knew that all the families were compensated, while not much, for a poor family in the slum this money would go a long way in improving their living condition.
She didn’t wait long in the tree before something happened, a group of thirteen grey knights phased into the backyard, with the one from earlier at their head. They quickly walked into the house from the backyard, before coming back outside with the warden, her handler. They talked quickly in hushed breathe, before the lead knight slapped the warden, and pushed him back into the house. Only one of the knights followed him in, the others simply waiting outside, not making a sound. This was only a feint, as there probably was a communication device embedded into their helmets, allow for short range silent communication between the squad.
Sensing something was wrong, she silently slipped the needles hidden within her cloak into her hands, they were cold to the touch, but for anyone else who touched them would instead be invaded by her mental energy and would die a quick and painless death, many of the times not even realizing they were dead. As such her codename was Unn, the God word for needle.
Soon her expectations were met when the warden was tossed out of the backdoor and the other knight soon walked out also. The lead was missing, but she could sense that there was something odd within the house. She could (for the most part) sense things attached through the netway, and almost everything living was attached. People felt different then the actual netway, in the same way a piece of string differed from the fishing pole it was attached to. Inside that building, there seemed to be a physical manifestation of the netway. At first, she thought her senses were being messed with, then she confirmed for the umpteenth time that what she was seeing was correct. Deciding that it was probably time to intervene, as she was pretty sure this netway manifestation was her original target, she slipped down from the trees. Making her way silently, she was once again shocked as while she believed her handler was working with these knights willingly, rounding the corner showed them kicking the piss out of her handler, who simply laid on the ground unmoving, not even attempting to protect himself or even cover himself from the blows. The sight of this crude act of violence finally broke through to Unn, a furious white-hot rage that had been building through her finally burst through, yet you wouldn’t be able to tell by looking at her plain pastel blue mask.
Hands moving so fast that it appears to be a simple twitch the needles hidden in her palms were thrown out, slicing through their visors like a sharp knight through paper. With a silent thud, twelve knights lost their lives just like that. As soon as the last knight finally keeled over a sharp headache seemed to be spreading through her mind, seemingly radiating from the back of her neck and all throughout her mind, seemingly causing her senses to scramble.
Slowly returning to herself she was at first confused. The last twenty-four hours were a blur to her, seemingly piled together and then smooshed into her skull, to call it a fever dream was an understatement of a millennia. Barely able to think straight she recognized she was on the floor of a dirty hovel, but where it was exactly, what laid outside and how she got there still alluded her. A wave of something passed over her, it felt like a gaze, and as it passed over her the last lucid thoughts faded out of her head as she finally let herself fall back into unconsciousness…
The Uurak Inquisition
There are two portions to the empire’s inquisitor forces. The first is the face of the force, dealing with heretics and dissidents to the holy throne. It pioneers itself as an internal police force, and theoretically it will only have cause to find issue with you if you belong to a heretical organization (those who have pledged their service to the Fallen but have reneged on their promise) or those who actively pursue the downfall of the state’s religion or of the Uurak empire. The second half of the inquisition named His Martyred Soul oversees actively enforcing this. The problems arise with the vagueness of their directive, as “opposing” can mean many different things to many different people.
This organization operates outside of the collective political body of the Uurak empire, and answers directly to the emperor or empress of the Uurak Empire. This has caused many people, specifically nobles to accuse the inquisition of simply being the emperor’s private execution voice. Unsurprisingly, these politicians either disappeared or were found to have broken some crime and given the death sentence because of it.
As such, it is considered a death wish to try and influence the operations of the inquisition in anyway. Unlike most organizations within the empire, no one of noble birth (even if disowned) may enter the ranks of the inquisition. Instead, the recruit solely from orphans and those whose parents sold them into slavery. As such, many inquisitors are either deadly loyal to the emperor for saving them, or to the Fallen, but either way this means they serve the empire with zealot devotion. Many would rather die than disappoint their emperor.
Not much is known about the organizational structure within the inquisition, outside of that they report directly to whoever sits on the holy throne, and that their front facing position is only a bureaucratic one, the real beast lurks in the shadows…
