Fire and Mask
Warning: Contains violence and death
Who would do this? Why-?
He got his answer quicker than he was ready for as the gaunt form of Sheridan emerged from the rubble carrying a bundle of twigs, presumably to keep the fire going. They dropped the sticks at the sight of him.
“HE’S HERE!”
Tora didn’t wait to hear the shouted responses in the distance before rushing Sheridan, grabbing a nearby piece of equipment – some sort of glass orb? And chucking it at their head. They yelped and fumbled backwards as Tora swept past them and bolted towards the wooded pathway going north. He could hear the thundering of footsteps behind him: two pairs… No, three. They didn’t shoot but he made sure to take cover anyway, dipping behind broken pillars and archways as he scrambled across the rubble.
A bullet zipped past his right ear as he entered the wooded path and snagged a branch off a nearby tree.
“DON’T SHOOT, YA ASS! I WANT ‘IM ALIVE!” Birr, of course it was Birr.
The path was too linear, surrounded on all sides by rock walls. He couldn’t lose them here. Damn it! Why didn’t I just stick to the plan?! But he knew why, and the image of Meritt’s burning corpse stayed firmly in his mind. He wasn’t even really registering what was around him anymore – it was just trees and rocks rushing by him. Why did they kill Meritt? He’d known he’d be a target after Baya disappeared but, Meritt? Meritt was plain to say the least, unnoticeable, quiet. Some of the rowdier bandits picked on him now and again, but this? Why? Why did they-?
Tora’s foot caught on something small and slimy and he fell, hitting the ground hard. Sap dripped from a fresh cut on his lip, and he winced as he tried to get up. Then a slithery creature, hamster-like in shape and made of rotting flesh, skittered up to his face. He froze.
No.
No not now.
No no no no no!
Delicate hands reached down and plucked the ugly critter from the ground. Tora’s eyes followed them helplessly upwards. The figure of a sylvari stood before him, small in stature, and frankly unimposing. They wore a long dark coat that draped to their ankles, a hood, and a striking misshapen wooden mask.
The Mute.
Tora’s breathe caught in his throat. If the guild didn’t kill him, The Mute certainly would. That was what she did after all, kill bandits, and that was all he really knew
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