Bishop stared at The Wall in the silence of the City of Judgement. He had awoken dazed and confused, like all the others but in time the truth had dawned on him: he was dead. His suspicions of his demise were confirmed by an Erinyes who had been sent by her master to recruit Faithless souls for a baatezu army to fight the unending war against the tanar'ri. She stood beside him, smiling to herself as Bishop gazed as the quivering green mass that was The Wall. Limbs would rise and fall from the surface, occasionally a face would push it's way out, the mouth locked in an unheard scream of terror.
"That is what awaits you Bishop," she said, pointing.
Bishop frowned, his hands shaking ever so slightly. The prospect of an eternity in The Wall terrified him more than he could express.
"Unless you accept my master's offer that is…" she continued "He is very kind to those who serve him, and one with your abilities would rise quickly through the ranks"
Bishop nodded. She was right, he was good. But even in death Bishop was still stubborn, and faced with the choice of spending eternity in The Wall or becoming a devil and serving yet another master his principles held fast.
"Lucky I look good in green" he said with a grin.
"So be it" the erinyes said and without a word she spun and walked off, tail wagging behind her.
Bishop stepped closer to The Wall, his keen eyes scanning it for signs of fracture, for the possibility of escape. There were none. The mossy surface of The Wall shifted as he approached, as though it could feel his faithless soul and as he stepped closer he thought he could hear whispers. Whispers of agony, of misery, of regret. He could hear the muted screams of his fellow faithless.
The Crystal Spire jutted high into the grey sky, the topaz structure the only relief from the impending grey of the Fugue Plane. Souls wandered to and fro waiting for their deity to send someone for them, to take them away from the City of Judgement to another Astral Plane where they would be safe and protected by their god. Bishop scowled at them as they passed, mostly at the chains they had worn their whole lives dedicating themselves to a god, but partly because he envied them. They would not suffer as he was about to.
"Bishop?"
At the sound of his name he spun and saw a man in ornate grey robes standing before him, a bastard sword slung around his waist. He was a plain looking man, with the kind of face you would forget moments after seeing it save for his black, sombre eyes.
"What?" Bishop asked, frustrated at his predicament, still fuming at how close he had been to escaping the ruins.
"Follow me please" the robed man replied with a calm voice, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
They walked in silence through the bland streets of the city, the Crystal Spire looming in the distance.
"Where are we going?" Bishop asked.
"To see him" the man replied without turning. Bishop did not have to ask who he was.
"Consider it an honour," his guide continued "Very few are judged by the Lord of the Dead in person"
"Is that meant to make me feel better?" Bishop asked incredulously.
"It is an honour and a privilege to be in the presence of Kelemvor" the guide replied sharply.
"Spoken like a true lackey" Bishop retorted. The guide made no attempt to argue with Bishop, though his knuckles were white on the hilt of his sword. Bishop grinned smugly as he was led into the shadow of the Crystal Spire and up to the entry,
passing under the archway into a long hall devoid of decorations. He could hear the echoes of hushed whispers coming from a mass of robed figures at the other end of the hall. The figures were gathered around a high throne and as Bishop approached he saw them preparing a ritual. Incense was lit, charms were scattered and prayers were being uttered.
"Kneel" commanded Bishop's guide a few feet away from the throne.
Bishop let out an exasperated sigh and dropped to his knees, his eyes on the decorated sword his guide was holding on to so tightly. Even in death Bishop could still inspire fear. That made him smile.
The group of robed figures, having finished their ritual, retreated and stood behind Bishop, staring expectantly at the throne they had just been blessing. Bishop turned to watch them stare for a moment, before looking back at the empty throne.
But the throne was not empty.
Sitting before Bishop was a figure in hooded grey robes, the face covered by an ornate silver mask. Being in the presence of a god sent a tingle down Bishop's spine and he longed to have Linn beside him. But she was far, far away.
"Bishop" said Kelemvor in his even toned voice. Bishop had no reply, his mouth was dry and he could taste bile.
"You have been found to be Faithless, do you deny this judgement?" Kelemvor asked. He seemed to be in a hurry, as though Bishop's sentencing was interfering with his busy schedule.
"I do not" Bishop replied, the reality of the situation finally setting in.
"Have you anything to say before your sentence is carried out?"
The question had more meaning than any he had ever been asked. After everything he had been through: his brutal childhood, his time as a Luskan assassin, Red Fallow's Watch and questing with Linn… what were his last words to be?
"I'm sorry"
There was silence in the Hall of Judgement. Kelemvor leaned forward, his robes rustling in the silence.
"I'm sorry I betrayed her"
Kelemvor nodded and sighed.
"Your remorse is noted, Bishop of Red Fallow's Watch. Though I fear it is too little too late. Your life has been one of pain and strife but your actions and unwillingness to worship have led you to this moment. I sentence you to The Wall of the Faithless"
Bishop nodded and hung his head in remorse. His heart was heavy and his throat was hurting from holding back tears. He would have given anything just to see Linn once more.
A hand appeared on each of his shoulders and he was dragged to his feet and away from the now empty throne.
"I can walk on my own" he growled, shaking off the hands of the robed servants of Kelemvor. They guided him out of the Crystal Spire and along the streets where the souls of the other dead watched the condemned soul walking its last march.
The procession stopped where Bishop had stood with the erinyes and his guides stepped back, their hands on the hilts of their swords. A crowd of souls had gathered to watch, dozens of pale faces watched as Bishop stared.
"Don't have anything with a view?" he asked his guides. They didn't dignify his sarcasm with an answer.
"Didn't think so" he said stepping forward and taking one last breath. The whispers he had heard before grew louder as he approached and stretched out a shaking hand to the mossy surface of The Wall. He let out the breath he had been holding, closed his eyes and stepped forward.
…
Bishop didn't know how the others found the strength to scream. But there was always someone letting out a cry that would make a mortal's blood curdle. All Bishop had to keep him company as The Wall contorted his limbs, twisting him in unnatural ways, were his memories.
-
"Look, war is about to hit this place hard and you aren't going to win… I say we head out now and let Neverwinter fall" he had said to her, looking her in the eyes. It was some time before she replied.
"What are you saying?" she asked, even though she already knew the answer.
"Just you and me, that's what I'm saying. I can guide the two of us out of here, nobody has to know…"
'Run away with me'
She looked up at him from her sitting position on her bed, wrapped in a wool shawl, her blonde hair tied up in a ponytail.
"You know I can't" she replied "I swore an oath to protect that city, as sorry as it is sometimes, and we both know I'm not going to break it"
Bishop frowned and nodded glumly.
'So be it…"
-
"I am here with you, there is little that could touch me in your presence" Casavir had said looking down into her eyes on the moonlit battlements. From the shadows Bishop could hear every word he said.
"There is something I must tell you before this battle is joined, I wish to thank you… for all that you have done for me. You have made me stronger, restored my faith by making me see the good in feeling something for another"
Bishop stayed motionless, knowing how mad the Paladin would be if he ever found out Bishop could hear him baring his soul to Linn.
"I do not want to repeat the mistakes of the past, and those feelings for Ophala, for blind obedience to Neverwinter and not it's people, those are in the past. And although it is dark you shine brightly to me. There is nothing that can stand against us, in this life or the next"
Bishop felt ill, he couldn't see Linn's face but he could imagine the moon reflected in her big, pretty eyes as she looked up at him.
"I shall follow you. My sword, and my heart, are yours"
Bishop could take no more; he swept silently away into the guardhouse, took the stairs two at a time and leant his head against the wall in the shadows of the entry to the keep, resting his trembling hands on the gate mechanism as he steadied his breathing…
-
After some time it dawned on Bishop that the Paladin had not stolen Linn from him, he had given her to away. He had never said what he really meant, he never told her how he felt, even as they faced off in his final hours. And Casavir had not been so ambiguous, he had stood there on the wall of the keep and showed his soul to her.
So Bishop screamed, like all the others, as The Wall slowly but surely devoured his soul.
