Monthly Blood Mage's union conference.

The man didn’t look terribly impressive for a high priest, but that’s probably to be expected when the high priest is the leader of a group, consisting of one person, who follows a god of wind whose name had been lost for a thousand years. Like most charlatans of his nature the man had lured several wealthy and gullible followers into his scheme, promising them great powers, wealth if only they would invest. Of course, this was all nonsense, a fact which these wealthy members of society realized far too late. Not surprisingly, the man moved with the frantic paranoia of someone who believes the entire world was out to get them, which for once in his life would be justified beyond the constant threat of legal action and potential jail time, (neither of which seems to have done anything to deter him in the least).

As a result, actions had to be taken and that action took the form of the man who was casually walking through the forest, avoiding the path but staying within sight his agile movements not unlike those of a wild creature. Bishop was coming from the opposite direction, approaching the same crossroad, veiled by trees so that all the man might notice was a hint of mist curling it’s tendrils across the stones of the path. As his mark approached Bishop took a moment to observe the sky, patches of clouds interspersed with the unseeing stars staring down, eternally uncaring, as a result of the cloud cover however, there was little light by which to see. Perfect. Bishop thought, as he observed his mark continue towards the crossroads. The victim seemed entirely oblivious to another presence despite many paranoid glances to the path which had already traveled; a scene which was about to take on a far more sinister shade.

Of course, Bishop could have simply killed the man without ever revealing himself, walked away and called it a night, but something about that just didn’t sit well with Bishop. “Be uplifted by the voice of the wind for she, Aurora, is always watching you. Take hope for as Aurora sees your deeds of charity she shall in turn reward you with her charity.” The man jumped, and fell backwards in shock as Bishop spoke, even though Bishop had never raised his voice instead speaking in barely a whisper. Stepping out of the woods, mist running along the ground around his feet in a great pool he continued “Those words should be familiar to you no? As you gave false hope to others, you cut their heart out by dashing that hope every time they discovered your falsehoods.” There was a cold satisfaction to Bishop’s words, less even forgiving than the stars above. Bishop advanced out of the tree cover, quite close to the man but initially unseen due to the shadows which hugged the forest, the man had been standing near the signpost, only a few feet away from where Bishop had been waiting unseen in the darkness.

Bishop stood, dressed all in black barely visible in the semi darkness, both of his hands neither fully open nor closed there were the hints of darkness lurking around Bishop’s finger tips but between the lack of light and the mist which continually floated, around knee height it was difficult to observe him in his entirety and rising so that it would soon fully cloak Bishop. There was no expression on Bishop’s face, just a cold and professional seriousness as he approached the man, easy and measured steps. The mark seemed petrified in terror, unwilling to turn and run, unable to tear his gaze from Bishop.

The man spoke now, fear raising his voice and preventing it from carrying “is this about the money? I can pay, I have most of it, I swear I’ll give it back Aurora is charitable to all!” The fear was quite evident, and didn’t affect Bishop in the least. “Yes, I’m sure every Casino in Totan has experienced your generosity first hand, your debts alone would have been enough to warrant my visit. However I’m afraid someone else paid first and it would be below me to accept payment twice.” There was no hint of pity in Bishop’s voice as he spoke, and his voice grew even colder as he spoke these last words, “Your god is false, merely the wind, and like all patrons of false gods now you will enjoy a swift death there are no true gods in the world and man is the closest thing to a god which will ever exist.”

“Now show him Aurora’s Wrath!” the man Screamed as he saw Bishop raise his arm in one smooth motion, as the man said this a dark shape flew down from above to tear at the back of Bishop’s unprotected neck. The shape shredded the mist tearing across what should have been Bishop’s head and neck, yet claws met no resistance, nothing but empty air, and to the man’s even greater despair, a finger of darkness, nearly invisible shot from the mist too fast to be fully observed in the low light, as it did the man let out a gargling whisper but gave no more commands. The bird Natrelmon, highly confused and disoriented by the mist let out it’s own mournful shriek as it rose upon the winds, all bonds to humans now severed.

Bishop walked over to the corpse, grim as a specter as he bent to retrieve something from the body there was the hint of a flash in the low light, the scent of blood heavy upon the air, as the mist swirled around him, obscuring the body. Bishop was unscathed, he did not seem to have any visible Natrelmon on his person or summoned around him, but between the lack of light and mist it was impossible to tell for sure. That was almost disappointing, I almost wonder if one man trained all of these false prophets they seem to always beg for their life then try to kill me. Bishop thought to himself as he did something quickly with the body, his motions again sheathed by the mists.

As he stood again, Bishop sensed that he might not be alone, and stood, orienting himself in a leisurely manner so that he was in the middle of the cross roads, around fifteen feet of open space surrounding him on all sides between the road itself, and the trees which were cleared to allow for the two split roads to conjoin. The mist again rippled around him filling the open space which it had before seemed hesitant to cover.

His time had been wasted. Hours of tailing this man just to have him slain by another. A figure cloaked in black, appearing to have walked straight from the shadows, struck down Rook's next meal.


Allowing himself to be seen in his mist, Rook appeared to the stranger, 20 feet away. His hood was drawn, preventing his face from being shown.

"You've cost me a life, so yours will have to suffice." Growled Rook, taking a fighting stance with both knives drawn. This stranger was about Rook's height, though not as stocky. Overpowering him shouldn't prove an obstacle. After all, who could stand against his Blood Magic.

"What is your name, so I can categorize the way your heart tastes when I carve it from your chest and devour it?"

Bishop remained cloaked within the mist, he couldn't clearly observe the figure who approached due to the lack of light, however there was something which bothered Bishop about the man, it was not nearly the man's words as strange as they might be, but something else which Bishop couldn't clearly grasp at that moment. Keeping this in mind Bishop was more cautious than he would otherwise be, he spoke, his voice distorted by the mist so that his exact location would be difficult if not impossible to discern, moving two yards to the right as he did so, wary of potential attacks. "Strange, isn't it? This road is so rarely traveled, yet now here three of us stand, or two now I suppose. If you came to collect some reward then I'm afraid you should have paid your sources better."

Bishop was unfazed by the man's threat to eat his heart, in his world, such threats were hardly uncommon. Similarly, Bishop's words were merely a veil for his actions, while he was speaking he gathered air at his fingertips, forming two blades, which he then fired from raised fingertips angled slightly downwards, one directly at the center of Rook's torso, and the other off to the right by one foot, angled lower to strike around the height of Rook's waist, delayed by a fraction of a second so that it would be around a yard behind the initial attack.

As the blades of air left Bishop's fingers he spoke again, "My name is irrelevant, however, if you wish then you may call me Bishop, if not feel free to call me whatever you choose, whatever name you refer to me by it matters not." It was Bishop's intention to cause a distraction, a slight lapse in Rook's concentration, which would most likely be fatal. The side effect of launching the blades however, was that for a moment, Bishop's mist would be torn open, revealing his face and much of his upper torso, more visible now in the feeble moonlight, despite the distance.

A simple Mistwalker to the edge of his mist closest to "Bishop", allowed Rook to bypass the attack completely. However he became frozen with curiousity when he saw his opponent. Being roughly 12 feet away at this point, both men could now see each other clearly. Rook was taken with surprise. This man looked exactly like him, Or, almost. His build was not quite as broad although the body shape and facial features were a dead give away to some sort of relation. Even his eye and hair color were the same as his.

"Hold!" Rook shouted. "What manner of sorcery is this? Who are you really and why have you copied my form?"

Images floated through Rook's mind. Faces long since forgotten, merely blurs. His parents maybe? Someone else was with them. a smaller form, about his size. Rook wracked his brain for the answers, knowing in his heart that this person must have some connection to the family he never knew.

"I'll make him spill his secrets." Thought Rook. "I will have answers for this."