[IRP] Beginnings of Change

[WyvernSlayer]

Yuri wasted little time. “This way!” he whispered sharply. He led the group past the cells, ducking around the corner into a tiny archway that a casual observer would likely miss. Beyond that was another set of stairs, leading up through a cellar door and out into the open. He was the first to taste fresh air.

It got his adrenaline pumping. “Come on!” he said, holding the door open for his companions. “They usually keep a skeleton crew on this entrance. You’re almost free.”

“Yuri!”

Yuri’s head snapped in the direction of a familiar voice calling him. Across the way, in a stable, was his senior officer – Inquisitor Faulkner. His robes were in bad shape – torn up from their earlier adventure in the forest outside town. Yuri took half a step back. His cover was almost assuredly blown. But he did not look away.

“Inquisitor! How did you-“
“Silence!” Faulkner raised his spear. A yellowish light began to manifest at its tip. As the area around them grew brighter, Yuri could see a small crew of robed men taking up positions nearby. Yuri instantly recognized the spade-shaped spearheads of three of the Keepers. Two of them bore ornate crossbows. The last of them appeared to be holding a prayer book.

Faulkner glared at Yuri. “I saw you in the forest, Yuri. You’re the last person I expected to collude with these blasphemers.”

Yuri balled up his fists. He tried to answer back, but could not yet find his voice.

“I didn’t want to believe it, Yuri. I thought you to be a pure-spirited man. But now I see your deception.”

“No! It is you who deceive!” Yuri burst out. “These are good people! Saint Elimine says we should all strive to be pure of spirit! Not to ostracize what is different!” He angrily pointed at Faulkner and his men. “YOU are the one with misguided faith! All of you!”

The adrenaline was reaching a fever pitch. Yuri was so invigorated, he did not notice that the prayer book strapped to his belt – the very one that he had leaned on for guidance, that he would retreat into in times of strife – was beginning to glow.

“Infidel!” Faulkner slammed the butt of his spear into the ground, sending small ripples of light scattering across the ground. “As Inquisitor of the Church of the Preservation of Sanctity and enforcer of Elimine’s will,” he shouted, “I brand you, TRAITOR! Your sentence is death!”