Immortal Game of Fate

1: The Taste of Death

~ Rook Fihari, Banshee ~

Rook is a thief. He is also extremely good at doing his work, however, this whole situation was not his fault. Flames lick the night sky, their orange and gold embers floating into the starry sky above. Smoke clouds the area, thick and cloying and hot. He tugs his mask over his nose and mouth, trying to prevent himself from coughing.

All around him, havoc is breaking out across the city. People rush about, calling for either a Wildfire or Alkemeii. Rook tilts his head, watching the chaos all around him with a strange sense of curiosity. Then, a small group of men armed to the teeth approach the flaming houses. They lower their weapons and then bring their armored hands up, the flames guttering as the Wildfires among them stem the strength of the flames. The Alkemeii among them then blast the flames, dousing them in a blast of cold water that splatters Rook, from where he is perched.

He studies the scene, then slips across the roof and steals off into the night, his steps silent even on the wet cobblestones. Rook takes himself deeper into the city, the people who had fled the fires are all gathered around the tavern below on the next street.

But the Banshee man senses death, the taste of a metallic kind forming in his mouth, along with that of just rot. He coughs then, gagging as he moves. He looks around anxiously, but no one on the nearby streets are obviously noticing him. As Rook walks toward his destination, the Banshee senses death in the air. It seems to be all around him. Knowing it isn't he that death itself is after, but Rook still looks around and feels nervous.

He knows that when death comes for someone, it always gets them. So, Rook follows the taste and smell. Death is heavy in the air, but he presses on, knowing that he needs to hurry, or he will miss whatever is going on.

Until Rook reaches a narrow alley, he had thought that he was just going to miss this. The fire in the buildings and homes on the other end of town seems to have made everyone more on edge, so it's a bit difficult for him to discern the exact direction of the death senses. He tilts his head forward, inspecting the alleyway and its long shadows.

Maybe an Umbra lurks down this way?

He steps toward the long shadows, his hands slightly shaking a bit. He looks behind him, but then turns back to the shadows. Only to gasp and stumble backward.

Tarian Mothclaw, his fellow thief, stands there, looking at him expectantly.  "Rook? What're you doing here?"

Rook sighs in relief as he realizes it's not Tarian who is surrounded by Death's shroud.

"Death is in the air," he whispers.

Tarian sighs. "Well, yeah. There's a damn fire over there, across town. Wait. Don't tell me you did that....?"

"No, I didn't," Rook replies.

"Alright, well, what are you doing here? Following the sense of death?"

Nodding, Rook scans the alley again. "It's somewhere down here, Tarian. We need to find them."

"We? Why do we need to find them?"

Rook shrugs.  "I just want to make sure it isn't someone I know."

Tarian's eyes soften. He sighs and rubs his face. "Look, I know you feel like you lost your sister, that it's your fault for not sensing it beforehand, but it really isn't."

"Don't, Tarian," Rook murmurs. "I need to know, okay? And I can't let someone die alone."

Tarian nods once. "Alright, Rook. I'll follow your lead. Where do you think the person is?"

"This way." Rook brushes past his friend and the two of them walk down the narrow path and out to a side street. The senses tell him that they are to the right, so Rook and Tarian head that way.

When they approach one of the Temples, dread fills Rook, down to his stomach, which feels cold and slimey. He sighs, his breaths shaking.  His sister, she had worked here, in this very same Temple. And now, now that she is dead ....

"Rook," says Tarian. "You don't need to see what's going to happen. You aren't responsible for every death in this city. Come on, let's go back home."

Rook shakes his head. "I need to know."

"Why?" Tarian asks softly.  "Listen, I know you are a Banshee, and that you feel each death that you're close to, but.... please, don't punish yourself for that."

"I need to know, okay? If it's one of her friends, I...."

The doors to the Temple open, and Rook looks up as Guinevere Phosa, a Phantasm, steps outside. She is a priestess, and when she sees the two thieves, she sighs.

"Guin," Rook murmurs. But as Guinevere steps closer to the two of them, he's relieved to know that she's not the one who he's searching for.

"What are you doing here?" Guinevere asks.

"He's sensing death," says Tarian. "I am with him to make sure that the fool does not get himself killed in the process."

Rook elbows his friend.

"Is it me, then?"

"No," says Rook. "No, but it's coming from your Temple."

"Ah .... I think I know who you are searching for. A warrior man has come to the Temple. He is old, and he is dying. He is searching for a place to die. So, he came here to die alongside us, and the gods."

"Oh," Rook mutters.

"Can we go, now, Rook?" Tarian asks him.

Guinevere nods. "Please, go. We have much work to do. The spirits are mad tonight. I would suggest you return to your homes. There is blood on the air tonight." With that, Guinevere leaves them, heading into the Temple again.

Rook sighs and turns back, heading to the house that he and Tarian share. His friend follows his lead into the night.