The masked faces of the Pathmaker Alliance watched the city below them crackle and spit with flame.  Anarchy had been crowned ruler, and they had brought about its coronation.  The warriors’ silence had finally been broken, and their voices lit up the night sky with a wash of death.
‘Move’ whispered Striker, and the troupe took off as one.  Their cat-like motion carried them swiftly across rooftops towards the sanctuary of the Emerald Hall.


‘You’ve taken a battle and transformed it into war.’  cried Farbeem ‘No one is safe, and you have brought death to their homes and families.’
‘You taught me to kill!’ Striker spat back.
‘I taught you to defend yourself.  To protect those you love.  And you loved this city once, and swore to protect all’ who lived in it.’
‘You know I honour that promise,’ Striker whispered, instinctively reaching for the medallion that hung heavy with the weight of vengeance.  ‘That promise forms the very foundation of the Alliance.’
Any reply was silenced by the entrance of Loneblade, one of the most infamous, deadly and volatile members of the troupe.
‘The Pathmakers are trained assassins.’  Loneblade proudly stated.  ‘Trained by you and bought by anyone who can afford us.’
‘Bought?’  Farbeem braved, ‘Then how are you any different from the lives you are trying to liberate?  Every woman in the city has been forced into slavery or hiding.  Striker, your sisters…’
Striker moved in a second, placing two hands around Farbeem’s neck.  ‘I never forget my sisters, or that I would still be with them if it wasn’t for you.  But I will sacrifice a million male lives to free them and allow this child inside me to live without fear.’
‘Then war it is.’  Loneblade smiled, ‘Time for a brand new dose of women’s liberation.’