Thread: A Chant of Deciet

His eyes, dark and glazed, became engorged at the mere sight of the mask. It was carved entirely from rich obsidian, found only in the most treacherous depths of the Deep Roads. For many years the mask belonged to the Legion of the Dead, hidden in a coffer in some since abandoned cistern. How it came to the surface was beyond him and he dared not dwell on such a questionable feat. You have done the Maker a great deed this eve, boy. His once flat, expressionless sneer became a twisted smirk. He advanced, hoisting himself upon a nearby boulder just as the templar unsheathed his weapon. Andraste smile upon you. Velasco's fingers, longer and slender, unfurled with a flick of his wrist. He cast a lethargic veil of magic over the pirate which would inevitably cast him into a temporary slumber. Horris, kill his men and cast their corpses into the sea. The Maker has willed this there can be no witnesses ... simple sacrifices for a bigger cause. I'm sure he will understand. To hinder his bussiness partner, Velasco began to cast a twisted hex. Mid-spell he was thwarted by an unusual presence, something so poweerful that it thrust his body back. The spell misfired, sent hurling off into some unknown tangent while he attempted to regain composure. What treachery is this ... ! Does one of the Maker's own decieve him? He cast his vehement gaze back at his men, each shaking their heads in bewilderment. An archer whom had been secretly ensconced within a copse of bushes overhead fell to his demise at Velasco's feet. His flesh, once tawny and flushed was replaced with a disfiguring burn. Steam spiraled from his skull and through the fissures of marred, pink flesh warped by none other then fire. The archer let forth one last exhale with it, his life. He gritted his teeth when realization had finally taken reign. Horris, leave the pirate, the Messiah is nearby. End her now! Velasco hollered like a child, shaking furiously as he collected his staff and clumsily summoned several lesser shades from the Fade. Archbishop Velasco, this is the second time I've found you consorting with petty smugglers. Like the stars to a nomad you are growing increasingly predictable. The familiar, mellifluous hum ripped through his ears. He jerked his head back and gritted his teeth at the sight of an exotic, shapely woman with strikingly light eyes. Her pupils - tiny, like dollops of blackness - twitched with a desire to pounce. But like any trained animal, she waited. Her hand suddenly reached out and swept forth, almost in a disdainful motion. The shades shrieked, thrown aback by some unseen force, then dispersed as quickly as they materialized. Velasco grew panicked as he took note of the pirate beginning to stir. He motioned to Horris who suddenly sheathed his weapon and withdrew into the brush, leaving Velasco to finish summoning what appeared to be a monstrous demon. It eyes glowered and its teeth, jagged and misplaced, jutted out in several different directions. I've no time to toy with you today, girl. Perhaps some other time. The Maker has willed we meet again. Suddenly, he disappeared, leaving his followers to be slaughtered by the pride demon's wake.