Bishop Grey

Upon his emancipation, Bishop found himself aimless. Endlessly grateful for his newfound freedom, he began to wander. He wanted to give back to the fabled heroes who fought for his right to walk unchained. A little desperate, Bishop found himself falling in with a group of highwaymen. A man has to eat. They told him they would only take from those unfriendly to the Sud. Bishop, naive and hungry, believed the band. They robbed carriages, accosted travelers, and never asked questions. On one such occasion, Bishop found himself kneeling over a wealthy man’s body; the arrow in the man’s stomach had once been in Bishop’s quiver. A pouch on the man’s belt held five rings, each set with a large stone. As the pouch was taken, the man grabbed Bishop by the arm.

“You are deceived. You commit deeds against your own. I curse you to bless others. I curse you to be haunted by honesty. May the specter of truth lurk in every interaction until your end.”

The rings cursed Bishop. Before the end of the year, if he didn’t give them to those he encountered, he would be wracked with pain. If the rings were ever returned, he would be compelled to tell the truth for as long as the presenter remained in his presence.

The highwaymen were eventually dispatched by the noble and stylish Nova Vitae. Bishop was spared and offered a chance at redemption. To fight with Nova was to choose a righteous path. He found camaraderie under the wings of the Pegasus. It was the 1024th knighting ceremony that solidified Bishop’s allegiance to the Sud. Just another face in the crowd, he couldn’t hold back tears as legends were honored, and respects were paid to those unable to attend. The War of 1024 was grueling. By the end, Bishop was out of arrows and targets. He stood in the field, looking to regroup when he heard the call—a pull at his mind, a song in his bones. It felt as though the wind was reeling him south. He began walking, as if in a trance. Time and distance melted away as the colors of the world blurred and shifted around him.

With a curt shake of his head, he found himself before a cave. He wasn’t alone; eighteen other souls stood beside him. Some wore the heraldry of the enemy, others friends. They all stepped into the cave. Weapons were cast down without a word. They exited the cave, each lifting a part of a large, ornate stone vault on their shoulders. The vault’s colors shifted as countless chameleons rested atop it matching the vibrant colours of their surroundings and the clothing of their pole bearers. Without a word, the Curators of the Shifting Veil began to walk in concert. From the lush trees, elephants joined the procession, walking beside the vault to protect the repository.

At the GB 1025, Bishop and the Curators of the Shifting Veil will march through the veil and humbly present their bid to join Terres Du Sud, reclaiming and redistributing art back to their proper homes, by their guiding force: The Vault of Memoire.