Vhailor

I opened the portal the deva had mentioned, ready to enter another plane through it. However, a figure was in the room beyond the portal, standing against the far wall. The figure gave no sign that it had noticed our entry; curious, I approached.

Before me was a towering, empty suit of armor — but the plates were suspended in space, as if secured over an invisible frame. Red veins ran across the length of the metal greaves, and a huge, double-edged executioner’s axe rested in its hand. Engravings decorated the surface of the armor, the most prominent of which was a crimson serpent with its wings outspread. From behind the ‘wall’ in my mind where fragments of memory lay, a name slithered forth.

“Vhailor…?” I didn’t know where the name came from, but I knew it belonged to the armor. I had barely whispered it, but it echoed strangely in the chamber. The air stirred, just enough to send a crawling sensation swimming through my skull and a knot to tighten in my heart.

As I stared upon the suit of armor, the shadows beneath the visor took shape… coalescing into the features of a powerful, ebony-skinned man. His eyes were like fires, and he bore numerous scars… was this ‘Vhailor,’ when he wore flesh? He seemed hauntingly familiar… both as a suit of armor and as a flesh and blood human. Almost as if I were reciting a spell, more words came to my lips.

“Vhailor… awaken.” There was a flare of brilliant red light from beneath the helm, lancing out in a blinding flash; I shielded my eyes from the glare — when I uncovered them, I saw two embers burning within the shadows of the helm. The figure spoke.

I have awakened. The voice was spectral, hollow, and echoed within the suit of armor. It was not a human voice… it felt more like a force, a presence. It didn’t sound like anything alive… or like anything that ever lived.

“Who are you?”

I am vhalior.

“What are you?”

I am a mercykiller. As Vhailor pronounced the word ‘Mercykiller,’ Annah and Morte stiffened.

“Mercykiller?” I echoed.

Mercykillers serve justice. Justice purges evil. When all have been cleansed, the multiverse achieves perfection.

“Why are you called ‘Mercykillers?’ ”

Mercy is a shield used by the weak. Mercy is weakness. Mercy is death. no one is innocent. Mercykillers slay mercy and its whores wherever their plague has carried them.

“I disagree. Mercy is strength — and there are times when even justice can be unjust, especially when carried to the extreme.”

mercy eats at the heart of justice. no one that lives is innocent.

“How long were you imprisoned?”

Time fled as I lay imprisoned. Time bears no meaning. Only justice.

“Do you know why you came to Curst?”

Much is lost of my journey. I traveled in search of betrayers. They found me and imprisoned me. An act of treachery.

“What betrayers?”

Curst is a city of betrayers. It is a city that defies justice. I came to cleanse it.

“How were you imprisoned?” Vhailor was silent. The embers in his eyes flickered. “Vhailor? Do you recall how they imprisoned you?”

I do not know.

“How does justice lend you her strength?”

The strength of justice depends on the harm the injustice has caused.

“So… the greater the injustice — the greater the crime — the more strength ‘justice’ lends you?”

When the injustice is great enough, justice will lend me the strength needed to correct it. none may stand against it. It will shatter every barrier, sunder any shield, tear through any enchanment, and lend its servant the power to pass sentence. As Vhailor intoned the words, a crawling sensation passed through my body — so strong it made me shiver. I had heard these words before, and I knew them to be true.

know this: There is nothing on all the planes that can stay the hand of justice when it is brought against them. It may unmake armies. It may sunder the thrones of gods. Know that for all who betray justice, I am their fate. And fate carries an executioner’s axe.

“And how do you know when to dispense justice?”

justice sees through my eyes. The eyes of a mercykiller can see the cracks of weakness, the frailties, the wounds of mercy upon the heart. In seeing, I know the guilty. I know their fear. I wondered at this power he claimed, and, turning, picked out the first of my companions that I saw.

“What do you see when you look at Morte?”

The skull knows much. Yet it knows nothing of justice. Many with hearts like the skull’s now lie within prisons and graves. My full curiosity now aroused, I wondered what the figure saw in my other companions. I asked about Dak'kon.

This githzerai’s heart lacks the prejudice that poisons his kind. Yet he exists in conflict with himself, for his word is his will and his law. Where the githzerai thrive in chaos, this one suffers.

“Prejudices? What do you mean?”

The githzerai race burns with prejudice. There is no place for prejudice in justice'S eyes. By its nature, prejudice taints justice. Githzerai are prejudiced against the githyanki, their racial cousins, and the illithids, who were the owners of the gith peoples. Hatred for both the githyanki and illithids burns in the githzerai heart. I asked next about Nordom.

The modron is of no consequence. It can define justice, but it does not understand it. It is not satisfactory. But it is enough. Next was Fall-From-Grace.

tanar’ri are born from chaos. They care nothing for justice. The succubus knows of justice, but she has turned from it. mercy has poisoned her heart. Fall-From-Grace stiffened at his words; her voice when she replied was even, without a trace of the tension she must have felt.

“I know of justice, Vhailor. I temper it with experience and wisdom, and when justice is tempered with those two truths, it becomes stronger. I know of mercy and forgiveness as well, for without them, the Planes would be a much crueler place.”

mercy eats at the heart of justice. mercy devours all that is perfection. compassion and forgiveness are mercy’s poisons.

“No, Vhailor they are not. They are instruments by which another soul may be redeemed, elevated and strengthened. In so doing, the multiverse is strengthened. Therein lies the perfection you speak of.”

You are weak, succubus. You are as weak as all your kind. Where your kind seduces with the flesh, mercy has seduced you. You are mercy’s whore. You are nothing.

Fall-From-Grace drew herself up at this. “Am I, Vhailor? Then judge me with your sight, see if you find me wanting. See if you can find the weakness that you claim eats at me.”

Vhailor’s eyes flared as he stared at Fall-From-Grace, the two embers burning like torches. Fall-From-Grace met his gaze steadily, her eyes crystal and determined.

The roots of weakness are there. You believe yourself strong, but mercy will feed upon the roots. It will devour your will.” Vhailor paused for a moment, and his next words fell like a hammer. Yet… other weaknesses do you hold in your heart, succubus. That is what my eyes see. You care. In caring, you have become weak.

“On that point, we are divided, Vhailor.” Grace replied.

“What do you see when you look at Annah?” I asked.

The tiefling is tainted by the Lower Planes. Her blood leaves no room for loyalty to justice. She understands justice, but she ignores it. Vhailor’s eyes flared to torches. She will not ignore me. Annah’s eyes narrowed at his words.

“Yeh best be keepin’ yer blind eye off me, spirit! I'll have no dealin’s with yeh, so I won’t.”

Tiefling, answer me: Have you ever committed an injustice? As Vhailor’s eyes fell upon Annah, she flinched, as if burned.

“Nay, spirit, and yeh've no business a-questionin’ me, yeh don’t.”

justice gives me the right.

“Aye? An’ what justice might that be?! Yer justice is not my justice — it’s as hollow as yer suit o’ armor! Yeh make yer own justice which yeh blindly ignore when it comes tae judgin’ yourself!”

Mercykillers are justice. Our actions are above question, tiefling.

“Oh, aye? Well, yeh and yer Mercykillers swung many o’ me friends from the leafless tree in the name o’ justice when the inclination struck yeh! Burn in Baator’s fires, yeh cursed half-dead thing, and may the Powers water on yeh fer good measure! I wish yer armor ta be dropped inta the Foundry’s vats an’ melted down so that not a plate remains!”

For the last time, tiefling, have you ever committed an injustice? refusal to answer is an admission of guilt. His badgering of Annah had made me angry; how could anyone who lived in the Hive and refused to be a victim not be guilty of some crimes?

“Vhailor, stop this. Now. I won’t have you questioning her.”

justice gives me the right. Guilt cloaks her like a second skin.

“I told you to stop, Vhailor, and I meant it.”

So the whore that is mercy shows itself. weakness has poisoned your heart.

“Has it? Then judge me, Vhailor — if you find me wanting, then pass sentence on me.”

who are you to question a servant of justice? you are nothing. you are a shell. i will now search your heart. we shall see if you are found wanting. As Vhailor’s burning red eyes fell upon me, I felt them tearing at my skin, blistering it, then peeling it back — but there was no pain, just a wash of dizziness and a sense of drowning. As his eyes burned into me, I felt a memory stir…

The burning red eyes grew brighter, to almost blinding, then I was facing Vhailor, but where there was hollow space before there was flesh — a scarred, ebony-skinned man glared from beneath the helmet, his eyes like fires as he regarded me. The armor was gleaming, and his face was locked in fury. He had come for me.

“You have found me, Vhailor. You have traveled a long way… I imagine it was not easy finding me.”

“Justice led me to you. Where you walk, you leave a trail of suffering.” The man’s voice rumbled, but there was no echo, none of Vhailor’s spectral voice, just anger and fury and flesh and blood… he was dangerous, but this was no spectral force, only a man, and I had defeated many such men. “I will see you brought before the Sigilian courts and punished. If you deny it, then say it, and I shall judge you.”

“I deny it. Judge me… then I shall judge you.”

“Judge me?” Vhailor’s eyes burned and he gripped his axe tightly, the muscle cords in his neck and arm tightening as he began to swing it, slowly, menacingly. “You have no right to judge me.”

“Yes, I have, Vhailor, for I know your heart — and my power gives me the right to judge you. But I shall not judge you now: You must rest within this cage until the day I can set you free to walk the Planes once more.” As my incarnation said the word ‘cage,’ Vhailor’s gaze suddenly turned from me to the surrounding walls — it was the walls of the Curst prison cell where I found him — many years in the past. Many years, enough for a man to die many deaths. Or perhaps just one.

“I eluded you up to this point, Vhailor… why do you think I agreed to meet you here? Did you think I was surrendering? Or wished to fight you? No… this is the gate town of Curst, Vhailor. It borders the prison plane of Carceri, where even Gods are held prisoner. You are powerful, Vhailor, but the energies of this place allow even the mightiest to be caged here.”

Vhailor turned, but some of the fire had died in his eyes. “This is treachery.”

“Treachery runs through this place like veins, and it is that treachery that lends me the strength for this enchantment — that is why I was forced to meet you here in Curst. I can leave this cell, Vhailor, but until I come for you, you cannot. Your crusade for justice is truly remarkable, but it will be forgotten, and perhaps in time — even justice will forget you.”

“You go beyond denying yourself justice, but you are denying my crusade…”

“I know of your mission. But that will have to wait until I am done with my mission, and this is the second time you have found me and attempted to judge me. I will not allow it to happen a third time.” Vhailor said nothing — never had I sounded so final. I was pronouncing a terrible judgment on him, a judgment that carried no justice at all.

“I am immortal, Vhailor — but you are a… strange one. Justice has touched you, and that justice may be more powerful than whatever it is that sustains me. Still, take heart: I do not wish you to die… perhaps one day I will have need of someone who has the power to kill me. So here you will remain until I come for you.”

The memory blackened, running into darkness, and suddenly, I was facing the spectral Vhailor again, his armored visage empty of flesh — only the burning embers.

You shall be judged. As Vhailor’s burning gaze fell upon me, I suddenly felt a strange sense of detachment, almost as if I was stepping back outside of my body. There was a faint whisper, a crawling within my skull, and suddenly I knew that no matter what Vhailor claimed to see, he would only see what I wished him to see. I knew that even the simplest of deceptions he must accept — I was a closed book to him.

Have you ever murdered another? I, however, felt no desire to lie to him, instead I picked one of the many crimes which I had committed.

“Yes… it was my hand, but not my mind, Vhailor. In one of my previous incarnations, I murdered a man named Fin Andlye because of the knowledge he possessed.”

You have admitted to the crime. Vhailor’s eyes flared within his helm, and I had a sudden glimpse of the terrible force lurking within this spectral armor.The guilty shall be punished.

“But I have already been punished, Vhailor.” Vhailor fell still.

I will hear of your punishment.

“Every time I die, Vhailor, I have lost my memories. I have no sense of self, no sense of who I am or was, and I bear thousands of scars in the mind and body from wounds I cannot remember. Death rejects me, and I fear I shall never be able to be at peace.”

Vhailor stared at me, his eyes burning brightly. I felt the same stare as before, the tearing and peeling back of the skin, as Vhailor seemed to dissect me. I felt a wave of nausea swim through me, and a sense of drowning, deeper this time… until my vision almost faded to black…

You have been punished. The mark of justice is upon you. I see it upon your flesh. know this: There is much that cannot be seen in you. I shall watch you. You have been punished. But it will not save you from future punishments for crimes to come. Once again I had come across refuse left by one of my previous incarnations, the ‘practical’ one. Of the man Vhailor who had been imprisoned, only a trace was left in this purified avatar of justice before me. But what little I could do for the man I would do.

“What defines justice, Vhailor? What is it, really?”

justice is defined by law.

“And what is law, Vhailor?”

law is the tool by which justice is served.

“And what makes the laws, Vhailor?”

law is defined by justice.

“That’s a circular argument, Vhailor — it’s meaningless. You say justice is defined by law, which is defined by justice.”

law — is — defined by justice.

“Living men and women make laws, Vhailor — are the laws they make ‘just?’ ”

laws are just.

“But if these laws are made by living men and women — who, as you've said, are not innocent, then haven’t the laws been tainted by their hands?”

nothing that lives is innocent. Yet law rises above the flesh and blood. from imperfection perfection may be made. unjust laws may be refined. bled of their evil.

“Then you admit laws are not always perfect — but if these same laws define justice, then isn’t justice imperfect as well?” Vhailor was silent.

“Vhailor — there is Know no justice. All you do in the name of justice is meaningless — your Know life is meaningless.”

My words seemed to echo, gathering power as I spoke them. As I did, the embers in Vhailor’s eyes flickered — and then guttered out. His armor collapsed, the axe and the metal plates clattering to the ground with a crash. As they struck the ground, however, they raised clouds of dust — ash and rust particles rising from the metal as the plates and axe aged, decayed, and disintegrated right before my eyes. All that remained were a few pitted metal plates as gravestones that Vhailor ever existed.

In a way, my words had been a greater betrayal than what my previous incarnation had done, for my action had little of justice in it, but much of mercy. I turned away, and led my companions through the portal.