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Faithless

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  • Faithless

    His eyes widened, the most exerting reflex his broken body could sustain in response to the greatsword that pierced his ribcage.
    One good emerald eye crossed the hilt and pale hands that gripped his killer's weapon, the last sight Mathell Cavaliere would see, the satisified leer of a vampiress.

    Her arms flexed, elbow bent as her sword released it's victim, his body falling limply over the wet grass.
    Blackness surrounded him, and he was gone.


    There was no tension, no residual pains nor discomfort as his eyes abruptly adjusted to the steely gray of the City of the Dead.
    The time it took for him to be ushered through the line of spirits by Kelemvor's immortal servants went unnoticed.
    His thoughts were distant, indifferent as to what would come.
    He had been prepared for the unchangeable verdict for long enough.

    Mathell's eyes, where once would have been in reverence and pride at the sight of his former deity and scriviner, lacked focus.
    The story of his life was retold in fewer words.
    His service as a Doomguide, the betrayal to stand beside Myrkul and finally..
    The judgement was called with the final wrending description.


    "Faithless."
    "Sir, we're surrounded!" "Excellent! Now we can attack in any direction."


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