Protagonist Backstory

Protagonist Backstory

Valimaar

Seven years prior to Heresy: The Book of Mammon

Ecclesian Wytch Hunts


         Valimaar stood in the shadows of the run down alley. The faint chanting and shouts echoed off the stone walls of the buildings as he stared at the setting sun. His presence was quite disturbing to the rats, and they pestered his boots as they inspected the intruder. The odor of rotten food hung in the humid air. Beside him, the maggots feasted on the decaying table scraps of the wealthy man he waited for.

         Rashik Al-Makar was his name. The Exarch had informed him of his presence in the southern district of Ecclesia. The Wytches seemed to have no end to their population.

         It had been nearly six months since the purge began, and still there were many that walked the streets, and hid among the populace. Rashik was one of them; one of their leaders.

         Kill their king, and their army will fall.

         Perhaps that was true, but from what he had seen, killing one king gave rise to another, and then another. Each time one fell, the remnants of his army grew ever more resolved and hostile. It was curious that they never fought back. Until recently that is.

         He did not enjoy his duty. Killing, though in the name of Azul, was still killing. Although it was often unavoidable, such an act was not easy to accept after it had been committed. The faces of the dead Wytches haunted his thoughts. Men, women, it did not matter. Wytches were Wytches in the eyes of the Ecclesiarchy, even if they never desired a quarrel. It was funny that a different set of beliefs could qualify as ‘evil.’ Though heresy it may have been, they had never accepted the faith of the Divinity in the first place. Why then, did the Ecclesiarchy despise them so much?

         Yes, they had predicted the death of Arbiter Lysander, and they had done so with great accuracy. Still, some things were difficult to explain. Not everything was written in books or known to the bright minds of Ecclesia. Wytches possessed a capability of foresight. Did that make them evil? Saint Peregrine himself had the same gift, and he was exalted. It never made much sense to him, but disobeying the will of the Ecclesiarchy was not something he would risk. After seeing what his own capabilities were, he couldn’t imagine what the wrath of the entire church would be.

         Who was he to question the church? If Arbiter Ezekiel said the Wytches were evil, they were. A man of such purity could not be questioned, for he was ordained by Azul.

         Valimaar nodded to himself. “Stay the course.”

         The sun descended upon the horizon. The distant sky shone in an orange that bathed the streets in its illumination. The dark purple clouds in the sky cast shadows upon the ground as they crossed the path of the sun. He looked up and saw the first star of the twilight. It would not be long.

         Minutes felt like hours. He despised hunting, no, murdering, for that was all it was. These people did not stand a chance, though being discovered was a risk he was not willing to take. He pulled the tattered waste further over his head, and waited in silence in the pile of rubbish.

         The second star twinkled in the sky above, and then the third. The crickets were chirping, and the sing song of birds lowered from a crescendo, to a whisper. It was time.

***************

         The dark streets were empty aside from himself and the shadows of the buildings that stabbed through the moonlit cobblestone. The distant echoes of drunken sing song and melody carried on the soft breeze like a feather in the wind.

         He put his ear to the wooden door and listened. Silence. He removed the small vial of clear liquid from the pouches stitched to his banyan. He pulled the stopper from the glass flask and poured it upon the rusted iron mechanisms of the lock. The liquid hissed and bubbled as it worked its way through the metal and wood, and he could here springs and tumblers clicking as it melted them away.

         He twisted the latch, and the door submitted. He pushed it open and stepped into the black.

         His footsteps were silent. The wood beneath his boots made no creaks as he walked up the old stairs. He could hear the light breaths of the Wytch through the darkness. He was asleep.

         As he turned the corner, light showered his boots from beneath the door in front of him. He leaned in and heard more light breathing. He ignored the presence of whoever it was, for they were no concern to him. His task lay in bed of the southernmost room.

         He slid the knife from its scabbard as he crept to the side of the Wytch’s bed, now his coffin. As he knelt down, he recited the prayers in his head. The tip of the blade touched the man’s neck and Valimaar shook his head in disgust. Taking a deep breath, he allowed his mind to succumb to the task.

         “Who are you?” The little voice asked from behind.

         Valimaar, turned to meet the bright blue eyes of a young girl, barely standing as tall as his thighs.

         The Wytch rolled in his bed, and Valimaar wrapped his arms around the girl, clamping his hand over her mouth. The man rose from his slumber and rubbed his eyes.

         This was a disaster.

         He turned to the source of his disturbance and Valimaar looked into the blue eyes of his target. He was silent.

         The two of them stared through the darkness, and the Wytch’s eyes shot back and forth to him and the young child. Tears rolled down his bronze cheeks as he shook his head.

         “Please. If you be wanting to kill me, don’t be letting her see it. Don’t be hurting her. She be just a child.” His voice shook and his eyes closed.

         What was he to do?

         Valimaar sighed and pulled the girl away from him. She ripped at his arms with young and feeble hands, trying to squirm away. He walked her to the illuminated room and knelt down. Placing a finger of his lips he stared at her innocent little eyes. He held his knife out to the girl in his open hand.

         “This will protect you from the bad people,” he whispered.

         She took it from his hand and inspected its shimmering steel.

         “Don’t go too far little one. Your dad will worry.”

         She nodded, and returned to her room.

         Valimaar spun on his heels and stepped back into the dark. The sobbing of the man stabbed at him like a thousand daggers. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. The Arbiter had spoken, but the killing of children would devour him. To hell with his orders.

         “Where is your homeland?”

         “I be from Lokken.”

         Valimaar nodded. “More men like me will come, Rashik. The Wytches are not safe here in Ecclesia. Take your daughter away from here.”

         The man’s head sunk into his hands.

         “Take as many people as you can, but go tonight. The purge has come to this district, and it will only get worse. Go.”

         “Thank you.”

         “Go with Azul Rashik.”

         Valimaar stood and turned. If he were to be killed for his disobedience, so be it. Azul had never spoken of the murder of innocent men and women. The Ecclesiarchy willed it, but they were not Expurgators. They were not the Examiners. They were not the inspectors of truth. He was, and he saw no truth and their edicts – their reasoning.

         ”Remember this moment Wytch. Remember that there are some that still serve the right cause.”

         He stepped through the blackness, and back into the world of the Ecclesiarchy. Tomorrow would come, and though the coming of the final purge would soon die out, it would be months from now. How could he go on? How could he serve the greater good, when its eyes were blinded by madness and accusations. Death was a powerful tool, and whoever assassinated Arbiter Lysander, had succeeded in plunging the Divinity into wild abandon. The Wytches had not caused his death, but someone was to blame.

         Secrets were his specialty, and one day the truth would reveal itself. Whoever had caused this madness would answer for their sins. He would personally see to it.