Tale:Gears and Rooks - Story One: Trial by Rookery

Boris felt the beaks of the vultures shove him to his knees before the bag was torn off his head and light flooded into his eyes. Boris grimaced and looked away from the direction the light was flooding in from. He wanted to cover his eyes, but his hands were bound behind his back.

After a moment, Boris’s eyes adjusted to the light in the room and he was finally able to get a good look at his new surroundings. From where he was sitting on his knees, it looked to Boris like he was in some sort of gothic-style cathedral or temple. Directly ahead of Boris was a raised area of the floor, which was flanked by two massive windows; the source of the light in the room. The only thing Boris could see through the windows was the gloomy grey sky beyond.

In between the two windows, on the stage, stood a black figure, hunched over with their back turned away from Boris. It took a moment for Boris to figure out what sort of creature stood in front of him.

Upon coming to a realization of what they were, a brief bolt of terror ran through Boris’s entire body before he suppressed it.

Standing straight ahead of Boris, back turned, was a bird; a vulture. A huge vulture, and quite possibly the biggest bird Boris had ever seen. If he had to guess, Boris figured this vulture was probably as tall as he was. Trying to suppress the panic bubbling within him, Boris looked around the room. This however, did the opposite of relieving his fear.

To Boris’s left, and his right, were rows of perches, filled with yet more huge vultures. Perhaps the most unnerving thing about them was how they were all staring at him in dead silence. If Boris had to guess, he’d wager there were fifty vultures surrounding him at least. None of these vultures were quite as gigantic as the one hunched at the front of the room, but some were close.

Taking a glance behind himself, Boris was met by the gaze of the stoic guards that had escorted him. Behind them, at the pack of the room, was a large, ornately decorated door. Right as Boris was about to look away, he caught a blur of movement above the door in his peripheral vision.

Perched above the door, was perhaps the most eye-catching of the birds in the courtroom. This particular vulture resembled a normal lammergeier vulture, only somehow even huger. On his beak was some sort of metal plate or cap that looked like it was designed to make him more effective at pecking and tearing into his victims. The large lammergeier turned his focus to Boris, and his fiery red eyes stared daggers through Boris.

Boris tore his gaze away from the vulture perched above the door, and turned to look forward once again. Boris could feel his heart pounding in dread and anticipation, his skin crawling under the relentless gaze of the tens of vultures surrounding him. After what felt like an agonizing eternity, the silence was finally broken by a deep, grave, voice.

“Fellow members of the High Rookery…” the huge vulture standing at the front began, “We have assembled here today in regards to a matter of utmost treachery…” he paused, letting his words hang in the air. “...yesss, we are here to conduct a trial…” the huge vulture continued, “...and not a trial of not just any criminal… no, we are here…” he raised his head, still facing away from Boris, “for the trial…” the huge vulture turned his head to the side, staring right into Boris’s eyes.

“...Of a necromancer.”

The huge vulture at the front turned his body 180 degrees to finally face Boris directly, while spreading his gigantic black and white wings.

“You there. Human.” the vulture’s voice boomed, “Tell me, what do they call you? What name were you given?”

Boris’s voice faltered for a minute, but he was finally able to get a word out.

“Boris,” he said taking a deep breath, “my name is Boris.”

The huge vulture nodded, “Mm, I see. Thank you… Boris.” he said, before puffing out his chest feathers. “I… am Archmagistrate Gryphus Von Derecho,” proclaimed the apparent Archmagistrate, “and to the opposite of myself perches Archcleric Pyrope Von Mocker…”

Boris looked behind him once again, and the Archcleric gave him a mocking bow. Suddenly, the Archmagistrate spread his wings and tilted his head up towards the ceiling. In response, every other Vulture in the courtroom did the same. A few seconds later they all returned to their normal stances, and the Archmagistrate spoke once more; “The trial is now in session… let us begin.”

The Archmagistrate paced back and forth in silence for a moment, before he spoke again.

“This prisoner; Boris, knelt here before us, has been known to us as a necromancer for a considerable amount of time…” the Archmagistrate explained, “and… you have encountered our agents before… have you not, Boris?”

The Archmagistrate questioned accusingly.

“…No, no I have not, sir!” Boris lied to the scrutinizing face of the Archmagistrate.

“This man lies!” the Archcleric suddenly barked from behind, causing Boris to jolt in surprise. “He has, I was there!”

“What?!” Boris protested defensively, “Surely the alleged eye witness of one bird cannot be taken as fact!”

Archcleric Pyrope narrowed his eyes and then raised his head to cast his gaze around the room, before giving his rebuttal.

“If I crow this claim in deceit, then may the reaper strike upon these red eyes in my skull with blight!” The Archcleric hissed, “I swear upon my position as the Archcleric that what I say is all true!”

Silence.

“I trust in your word, Archcleric Von Mocker.” the Archmagistrate stated. “I haven’t any reason to believe that a man who desecrates the final and most sacred act in nature’s cycle would be above using deceit to save his own hide.”

Boris could feel his panic rising as the many ridged gazes of the Rookery grow in their collective contempt for him. Desperately, he tried to grasp for any words he could use to save his life.

“Wait!” Boris cried, “I-I didn’t work alone! I worked with an apprentice… I-I can find her for you in exchange for my life!”

The Archcleric scoffed. “Kind, though detestable,” he replied in a tone laced with sadism. “No, no, that will not be needed of you Boris. If this apprentice you speak to us of really does exist, as you claim, it will only be a matter of time until she is tracked down and eliminated by yours truly.” The Archcleric gave Boris a cruel smirk after finishing his statement.

The Magistrate was pacing back and forth once again, carefully considering both of their words.

“Boris…” the Archmagistrate said, “the fact that you were fully aware of our warnings, yet persisted in your abhorrent practices destroys any possible pleas of ignorance, or plausible deniability.”

Boris glared up at the Archmagistrate, but said nothing.

“In addition, we must factor in your claims of an apprentice and take them seriously…” the Magistrate continued, “so I find myself unable to offer you any acquittal…”

Boris grimaced at the Magistrate, now really struggling to hold his tongue.

“As the Archmagistrate of the Vultures, the head of the Rookery, I, with the Reaper as my witness, hereby find you, Boris the Necromancer, guilty on all charges of crimes against the natural order!!!” Archmagistrate Von Derecho boomed.

“What?! How is this fair?!” Boris demanded in reply, looking all around the room for some sort of empathy from someone. There was none.

“Silence!!!” the Archmagistrate demanded. “As someone who has been convicted of crimes against the natural order, you, Boris the Necromancer, are hereby sentenced… to death!!!”

Boris’s panic was basically impossible to control how.

“WHAT?! You-you’re a bird, what authority do you have to sentence me?!” he demanded.

The Archmagistrate rolled his eyes.

“Dear boy, I spent over a decade studying the Reaper’s code. I assure you I have authority high, high, above any typical human magistrate, and you sir will die on this court floor!”

Boris recoiled back, intimidated by the sudden ferocity displayed by the Archmagistrate.

“Mister Von Mocker,” the Magistrate crowed, “your duties are needed of you.”

“With pleasure…” hissed the Cleric darkly. The Magistrate looked at the rows of vultures perched around the court room.

“Rookery? The song please…”

Every Vulture in the court rose to attention as they all collectively began to sing a visceral, hymn-like, murder ballad. Boris looked around, the terror now evident on his face as his fight-or-flight instinct began to kick in. His heart pounded, pumping adrenaline throughout his veins as he rose to his feet, despite his still bound hands. Boris’s legs began to carry him towards the large entrance to the courtroom, but the Cleric was expecting him. Without much of a sound, Von Pyrope suddenly leaped from his perch above the entrance and swooped towards poor Boris, wings spread.

Boris tried to get out of the way of the massive bird barreling towards him, but for all the adrenaline coursing in his veins, Boris could not react fast enough.

The Cleric’s talons collided with Boris’s side, knocking him off his feet and sending him tumbling across the courtroom floor. Boris landed chest down, the wind knocked out of him. He gasped for air, until finally air rushed back into his lungs.

Once able to breathe again, Boris made a futile attempt to crawl away, but the Cleric came up behind him. Ruthless efficiency, the Cleric dug his claws into Boris’s back, making him cry out in pain. The Cleric then flipped Boris over onto his back. Boris fought desperately to get away, flailing and kicking at Cleric Von Mocker, who seemed rather unperturbed. He jumped forward, landing on Boris’s thighs, and dug his talons into his flesh once more. Boris screamed and cried in fear and agony, as the Rookery’s singing grew ever louder.

Pyrope Von Mocker’s fiery red eyes stared deeply into Boris’s, as time seemed to slow down for the necromancer.

In a fluid motion, the Cleric lunged forward and dug his metal beak prosthetics into Boris’s chest, sending a fiery bolt of agony throughout his body. The Cleric did this again, and again, the only thing keeping Boris alive and consciousness in a cruel twist, was the extra resilience granted by his necro magic. Finally, Boris’s life began to fade from his body. The last thing Boris would ever see, was his still beating heart clasped in the Cleric’s beak, before the vulture swallowed it whole, and the last of Boris’s life drained from his body.