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ae-neon · 22 days ago

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Secrets Sworn by Night are Kept in Death

Day 3 - Night Triumphant & Lady Death

The Order of the White Blade had been born in the desert during the Merchant Wars of Faran Kithal’s reign and were now commonplace in the plain's six cities.

It was not until their 25th year, however, that they took the God of Night and the Goddess of Death as their official patrons. A blasphemous affront by any other measure, given the known hatred between the two, but many holymen have since speculated that the Order's activities in the preceding years had granted them grace and favour with both deities.

And so, it came to pass that annually the assassin's stayed their death dealing hands for a single night. Of all mysteries - of which the moonless dark held many - the secret rites of the White Blade and their adversarial masters remains the most enigmatic.

From Monarchs, Merchants & Murder: a Brief History of the Sinari by Soruk Lahn

[ Part 1 ]

Fin.

The House of Starlight was one of the largest temples in the city. As home to three Gods - the Lord of Night, Lady Moon and the Bastard Prince of Shadows - it was, naturally, also one of the richest. Tithed to by followers and kin followers of each, this included industry tithes from guilds of assassins, merchants, taverns, sailors, pleasure houses and guards.

The temple's main building was a great tower whose glass dome roof had been built by genius engineers and mystical alchemists. It was designed so that the light and beauty of the stars was magnified when viewed from beneath it.

It was this that made the House a popular haunt among artists, vagabond poets, young nobles, keen philosophers, melancholy musicians and sex workers. Its resident acolytes and clerics did not mind, of course. Not so long as the guests stayed and paid. Entertaining these admirers was not a requirement but their Lord and Lady were fond of such atmospheres. And, in the case of the Knight of Shadows, his spies were ever inclined to use whatever means available to their advantage.

Darthan plucked a grape from a serving bowl as he sauntered through the main hall. He slipped his hand under his mask, careful not to disturb the crown of silver spikes. The black robes he'd been given matched the attire of his fellow Night acolytes as well as those of the Shadow Prince's followers hiding in their midst. Even so, these were much finer than his usual garb: embroidered about the shoulders in silver and gold, and ending in a cape tailored to billow as he walked. All gifts from those he was to serve tonight.

The few spots of bright silks amongst the raven clothed residents signalled the first of the temple’s guests arriving. Tonight, the absence of the Moon and her followers meant the enchanted space would be lit solely by starlight. The occasion always drew in a larger crowd than usual, from street urchins to acolytes of other Gods, all to witness the wonder of the starry night through the dome.

He’d looked forward to this night every year since he’d pledged his life to the House of Starlight and its Lord. But Darthan could not pretend he did not have his own reasons to be excited about missing it this once. He'd long been curious regarding the mystery of the White Blades. A curiosity promised satisfaction when he had been chosen as Vessel for their rite.

He wondered for a moment how the other Vessel might be faring – the House of Death seemed to him such a dour and serious place. Though, given their Mistress’ dominion, that was only natural. He’d entered the temple only once, a few years ago, to lay his own lady mother to rest. At the time the priestesses, dressed in varying shades of blue, had all been either locked in hushed conversation with their bereaved visitors or buried in books and scrolls. It had struck him as oddly peaceful and in that space, the throbbing headache he’d borne from holding back his tears and the knot of grief that plagued his throat had both come undone. And, for the first time in the days since his mother passed, he’d wept.

“You’re looking well. Ready for tonight?” Mezra said from behind him, jerking his mind from the memory. Darthan had learned not to react. The Shadow's acolytes were second only to assassins in their stealth and it was useless to pretend the skinny boy didn't know it was him by gait alone.

“I am. But if you’re fishing for information, you’ll catch nothing here.” It was instinct to glance around. Where Mezra went, Mazan followed. But the boy’s twin, as well as all other followers of the She-Wolf Moon Goddess, had gone to the Niwa Oasis just beyond the city limits to perform their own secret rituals tied to this moonless night. As he soon would. “Run along, Mez, and stay out of trouble.”

Darthan did not waver or hesitate as he strode through the temple and out into the waiting crowd that spilled into the street; those not here for the wonder of the temple itself but to participate in what little of the assassin’s ceremony was open to the public.

Just beyond the crowd a clearing had been made by the masked members of the Order, ominous in their plain robes and masks. They would spill no blood tonight but the death dealers were still feared enough to create a deterrence. Within the clearing a piebald mare stood tall and proud, fitted with gilded reins.

Praise and petals were thrown about as he made his way towards the mount, aimed at the face they imagined behind the mask. A thousand glories, My Lord! Keep me in my journey to Palik, Lord! Bless my son, Lord! The words began to meld into a chorus of devotion, and as the sky to the west darkened, Darthan felt a weight come with it, a reassurance that rang in his bones. The power of his God.

☼

The young woman glanced from her window on the second floor of the temple, across the dusk painted rooftops of the Dasari quarter, to the assassin’s keep. The wave of apprehension she had expected she might feel did not come. In this she was not Zinam the orphan, there could be no room for old fears of inadequacy. All stood equal before her Lady, and she had been chosen as Vessel.

A cool breeze drifted through the wood lattice window and pulled lightly at the white sheet which had been draped over the polished silver of her mirror. It did not move but she could not help but turn to stare at it, as if she might pierce the gauze, curious at whatever might gaze back.

The soft shuffle of feet drew her attention – as was intended, she knew, for the residents of the keep were trained to walk in absolute silence. A figure shrouded in loose white robes and a white mask with only slits for eyes, bowed at the hip, “It is time.”

The Vessel stood, squaring her shoulders. The markings which had been painted onto her nude form vanished from sight as her sister acolytes clothed her in a finely woven, sleeveless slip of a grey dress. A veil of the same material was draped over her chestnut hair, the pearls sewn onto its hem framing her face. She lifted from the table a long golden handle, the end of which held a skull mask which she set over her face before leaving. Two acolytes followed the Vessel, holding the excess of her veil above the ground as she walked out into the balcony that looked over the courtyard at the temple's front.

Down below, more masked figures from the keep had gathered to give their tithe. The large open square was flanked by pillars on which enchanted incense was burnt; soothing scents which sapped the fright and terror from all those who stepped foot into the House of Death. It had been this smell that had first called Ziman to the temple and where, in her Lady’s embrace, she had slept peacefully for the first time since she had lost her home. She did not glance at the contents of the wooden chests which had been laid out on the grey stones when she passed by them. Only nodded a small bow at the assassins before she went ahead of them towards the temple gates.

It was not the practice of this God or Her followers to accept offering from those who wished to cheat fate, such a thing was both futile and risked an insult to the Lady. But those who dealt death – executioners, butchers, and assassins – and those who fell under Her shared dominion – seafarers, witches and warriors – were considered kin followers to Her devotees. It was customary they contribute to the upkeep of the temples.

Of these the assassins – key figures in a city where the noble houses and guilds had blood feuds stretching back two thousand years – were the largest financial contributors. It was more than enough. The Lady did not share many of the other Gods' love for pomp and spectacle. In this She was an odd match for the bestial God of Spring, Lord of the Southern Winds, who too kept a more modest temple. Or so the Vessel had heard from the butchers who gave tithe there and here as kin followers of both. She stepped from the temple, passed the iron-wrought gates and the perimeter of lemon trees, into the cobbled streets.

The shift in scent brought a second of hesitation but she steeled herself once more, whispering behind the mask the familiar meditation: The Silver Star is my guide, my hand She holds, Her blade my shield, Her heart my tomb. She is the End of all. She will shall spare no king, shun no beggar, pardon no priests and condemn no blasphemers. At Her feet even Gods shall fall.

A crowd had gathered though none dared to look upon her even as they murmured prayers. Besides the dozen masked figures, it appeared the procession was to be escorted by a contingent of city watchmen. The guards were not followers of the Lady or Her Husband. The Vessel wondered if they had come on behalf of one of their patrons. She was gently lifted onto a white stallion, careful not to show her face, and from her mount took in the road ahead as the last minutes of sunset stretched over the city in a medley of pink and orange.

For a moment a deep silence fell, so complete it was broken only by the cry of river birds, the huffing of her horse and the distant bustle which told her that across the city, the other Vessel had also just emerged from his House. She waited. Seconds slowed as night descended with a palpable presence. The echoing toll of bells rang out and with it, the Vessel surrendered all she was to the God of Death.

Does it count even if Rhysand or Nesta don't really appear yet? I hope so

@rhystaappreciationweekend

#posting is so nerve-wracking #rhystaweekend2025 #nesta archeron #rhysta #to be continued

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sibren-yeah · 2 years ago

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Black Desert Classes - Modern AU Personality Edition (College)

first hellsite contribution, please be gentle

Warrior - Chill jock type, will seem angry and competitive but only in the moment, chill and kind dude otherwise

Ranger - Everyone thinks she’s a bitch because of her blond hair and pretty face, really just enjoys books and sports archery. Will not shut up about being vegetarian though.

Sorceress - Actual goth, will smoke literally anything you can roll into a blunt. Master of evading getting caught for petty crimes off campus.

Berserker - Powerlifting is his personality, he will not stop talking about his new protein formulas or gains at the gym. In the evening he loves playing DND and wears tiny glasses while doing so.

Tamer - Horse girl, loves anything and everything animals. Still recovering from learning how horrible PETA is.

Valkyrie - Book nerd, does dance and likes making cosplay weapons out of foam.

Witch - Fellow nerd, loves hanging out with Valk and enjoys playing cozy indie games and programming.

Wizard - Calls himself a full-time twitch streamer, gets 6 views on average. Says twitch emotes like they’re actual words.

Maewha - Plays for the softball team, perfectionist and always gives it her all trying to run bases as fast as possible.

Musa - Plays baseball and is much like Maewha, this common interest brought them together.

Striker - Gym rat and an ex hooligan, will fight literally anyone caught bullying other people. Hot temper and gets into trouble a lot.

Mystic - Kickboxing and martial arts are her lifestyle, helps Striker cope with his anger issues by sparring.

Lahn - Gymnast and dancer, aloof and seemingly mean but in reality she’s just bad at social skills.

Dark Knight - Mall goth, always wanted to be friends with Sorceress but was scared to get into trouble. Rumors are she has an onlyfans.

Archer - Quiet and reserved, Ranger tried to make friends with him but changed her mind after she found out he uses his bow for hunting.

Shai - Will get mad if you call her short, emotionally intelligent and often called the group therapist. Loves music and composed many original songs.

Nova - Rich off of mommy’s money, actual popular bitch girl who will ruin your life. Bounces between preppy and e-girl style choices.

Hashashin - Edgy in the cool way, doesn’t speak much but is very intelligent and does his part in group projects.

Ninja - Edgy in the cringe way, will not stop comparing everything to Demon Slayer. Takes kendo classes but is very bad at it by trying to be Tanjiro.

Kunoichi - Very much the same as Ninja, never grew out of the 2010s scene phase and loves discussing anime with Ninja but says she’ll never date him.

Guardian - Everyone makes lesbian jokes about her (they’re all true), best friends with Striker and isn’t always a good influence on him. Her and Drakania used to hate each other as children.

Drakania - RPG nerd, loves games like Dark Souls and Monster Hunter, despite childhood issues her and Guardian became close after a group project for their fantasy literature class.

Sage - Was kept back due to being ill for years so is older than everyone else. Math wiz and loves building computers, but enjoys lifting and fitness as well.

Corsair - has a REALLY strong Rhode Island accent. Always posts pictures from her vacations to the beach and sailing. Volunteers at a marine wildlife center so she can pet the otters.

Woosa - Serial manga reader, actively gatekeeps people who don’t read manga. Constantly argues with her sister and calls her cringe.

Maegu - Has an actually popular twitch channel. Has a kitsune vtuber avatar and comes with all the stereotypes. Severely bad attention span makes her unable to read manga which makes Woosa mad.

#black desert #mmorpg #modernau #blackdesertcommunity

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