Rising Lights

One would've thought God-Poing's appearance in the castle would've been a blessing. 

Her entrance was subtle, but distinguishable as unordinary. In the form of a Priestess, she simply apparated into the castle common room like a novice that forms in the middle of a city. Nearly every one of the people in the room turned and as they looked upon her, smiled.

Though, for Morgan the assassin, crept a murky feeling. Something within the recesses of his mind panged with memory. He grimaced as he saw the glow of the Priestess, and confirmed her as God-Poing, kneeling with the rest of those in the room.

His leader Gregory, a fully-armored knight, removed his helm, and placed it on the floor besides where he kneeled. He finally broke the room's silence, with a cheerful, but humble tone. "Fair God-Poing, what brings you to grace our small castle with your presence?"

A few seconds passed in silence.  Finally, God-Poing turned to Gregory and replied, "Your guild is stained." The eyes of those in the room widened in response. Morgan listened as silently as he could, observing as his leader lost his smile.

Winston, a stout man in priest's garb voiced aloud, "How can that be, good God-Poing? The 
Rising Lights have always sanctified and heeded your laws. All of us, who are gathered here, can attest to having sworn fealty."

"I have preserved your words," a bespectacled wizard named Daniel spoke aloud. The rest of the guild members nodded in response, and thief named Sarah noted, "He has..."

"I too, fair God-Poing." Christopher, a tall blacksmith said, nearly shouting. "Daily, I've dealed only fair trades with all of those in Midgard, with every class and kin." In response, the guild confirmed with vertical shifts of the head.

A few members later, Morgan took his turn to speak. In what he felt would be the most confident of voices he could gather, he said, "I also have honored the doctrines of God-Poing." The first to murmur in assent was a quiet acolyte named Lilith, who noted, "Yes, Morgan has." 

Later was a Huntress named Penelope, who meekly cried, "Good God-Poing, I have always tried to follow your decrees." Those of the guild nodded quickly.

Lastly spoke Gregory, who had been shocked and looking towards the floor. "For God-Poing, I swore that myself and my guild would uphold the virtues of Midgard. If any of us have perjured before you this very day, I shall take the full punishment for our guild, be it to be turned forever into a novice, or fed daily to the Baphomet."

A dusty swordsman named Frederick, who Morgan and most had known as Gregory's long-time friend, shook his head, "No, please, fair God-Poing, turn deaf to what he has just said.  If there be any penalty, replace him with me for the punishment."

A reply was given by God-Poing. "What one member does echoes throughout the rest of the group." Morgan winced inwardly, while listening. "Have I not spoken against the ills of mob training?"

"Surely, fair God-Poing, none of us have done such a thing," Winston said.

"I heard the dying words of Arthur the mage, who spoke of a wayward character, who had strung along several poison spores, only to cloak besides him."

The guild members recognized who God-Poing spoke of as a member of their long-time antagonist, the Dusks. What some of them further knew of was how Arthur had earlier successfully proposed to Lilith, who had on the same day vowed to marry Morgan. As they each found reasons to rule out the others in the guild that had the ability to cloak as the culprit, their heads turned unsettled towards Morgan.  In realization, Gregory turned towards Morgan with a look of horror.

Receiving no reply from Morgan, the alarmed leader stared back at the floor before God-Poing.  After what could've been minutes in agonizing silence, he sighed.  "Good God-Poing, I truly believed in each of us, and for that mistake, I accept Baphomet." Gregory slumped, covering his face with his hands.  Frederick stood quickly, then ran to kneel at Gregory's side, placing a hand on his shoulder.  "If he is brought to Baphomet, take me too to it."   A moment afterwards, a light appeared around the two, which the others quickly recognized as a portal.  The rest of the guild looked on in grief it took in the knight and swordsman. What was left behind of them were their weapons.

"The one crime of your one member resonates throughout Midgard. Each of you shall be ported to a separate part of this world. There shall no longer be any telepathic communication between any of what was once this guild.  There is no Rising Lights."

Morgan opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly found himself in an entirely different area. After a few seconds of scanning the place with his eyes, he recognized it as Geffen city, the place under lead of the Dusks. Grimly, as he noticed a few members in the street recognize him with weapons drawn, Morgan quietly wished he had gone to Baphomet.



-Notes-

Agh, this was written too quickly. The events in it just don't flow well together. Sorry about that. I was just so impatient to churn out a story based on the...yeah, you guessed it: New guild rule. Aw, well.