AMIA ARCHIVE • View topic - A Breath in the Silence: "Life" in Tarkuul

Samantha continues to stay in the Ghostly Kraken, for any who pay attention. She has spent more time in the Triune Towers, and, recently may have been seen walking up the trees outside the newest temple in the city. She is often accompanied by a pretty redhead.

A somewhat confused warrior hangs around in one of the jail-cells of Tarkuul.

Last edited by AzureLuna on Fri, Sep 19 2014, 0:26 AM, edited 1 time in total.

To those in the Tower of the Eternal, a long forgotten occurrence is heard drifting down from the highest reaches of the tower in the middle of the night during the past few cycles. Music... Soft phrases echo faintly like the memory of a sound. The City knows the presence, but no one unusual is seen coming or going; The melodies simply seem to be. Though those who have been around the Living City since shadows ruled the quiet halls and only two courts were arisen may recognize a song or two.

Possessing something of a musical ear the Keeper would halt in his walk hearing the soft music from the tower. Stopping to listen as long as he could hear it.

Estara wrote:

Samantha continues to stay in the Ghostly Kraken, for any who pay attention. She has spent more time in the Triune Towers, and, recently may have been seen walking up the trees outside the newest temple in the city. She is often accompanied by a pretty redhead.

The redhead who has often been seen accompanying the blonde, can also be seen frequenting the library alone. She'd tuck herself in a far corner, with a few books--bindings covered. A blanket would be draped over her legs, most of the time--and a cup of luke-warm tea would be close at hand. In all aspects, she'd looked quiet comfortable and relaxed--her focus entirely lost in her reading material..

After another day or two at the inn, it seems that the redhead and the blonde take up their things from the Kraken, at some point, and move into the Castle somewhere... but both still frequent their respective temporary haunts, the Kraken and the library...

On both of Lucius' office, in the Tower of the Damned and
in the Library, a note is placed on the doors.

"In the Court of the Dead."

In the Castle's guest lounge...

Instead of sleeping in the room where her blonde roommate would be, it appears that the redhead had made a makeshift bed right outside the room on the closest couch. Using only a small child's blanket of blue wool and silk, she covered her feet as she settled her head down on the arm of the piece of furniture. Her pale green eyes rested on the blazing flames of the fireplace, and there they stayed until they weighed heavily and closed. She slept soundly throughout most of the night, if not disturbed. She only woke once to check on the blonde who slept alone in the room, yet only to return to her makeshift of a bed to continue her slumber minutes later.....

Of all the possible places across the Sea of Swords, it was in the silent library of Tarkuul where the peculiar sight of the ghastly once-energetic copperkin could be found.
It skims over the books, inspecting them briefly, and quickly changing focus. A process which it repeats constantly, diligently and quietly. It does not seem interested in making a conversation, but it does seem aware of the surroundings, pausing its investigation to observe whatever movement is there in the area, and only after a short investigation, it resumes the endless research.
It is waiting for something.

And it the same rhythm it arrived... it left.

A huge warrior sat inside a cell In tarkuuls prison, deep underground, and patiently waited. It had been three weeks since he was put there and no word since.

He kept asking himself why they insisted on a prison when he had been compliantly waiting inside the city for nearly five months, not leaving it.

The usually short tempered warrior kept himself busy with exercise.

One day, the Castellan of the Castle would have paid Hashim's cell a visit. A lone, armored Sentinel trailed behind the Shadovar. A heavy chain, seemingly taken from a ship's anchor, dragged ominously behind the skeletal warrior, a few links coiled around an adamantine-plated forearm. A heavy, wrought-iron collar rested in the undying knight's hand.

"Hashim Hois. It has been decided that your rations grow too expensive for the City to maintain without recompense. You will be given the opportunity to work the forge, and assist our forge-master with the production of weapons, armor, and siege engines. If the quality of your work is inadequate, you will break stones in the Court of the Dead. If you prove too intractable to accomplish even that task, you will be stored in the bowels of the City under an Imprisonment of Temporal Stasis spell. The duration of this labor, or your confinement if you prove uncooperative, is until Colin Reyes lies dead and the war ended. When relative peace is returned to Amia, we may find the time and desire to assess your case and decide your final fate. I suggest you choose wisely."

With that, the Shadovar nodded to the Sentinel, and the collar was opened as they awaited the prisoner's reply.

PhantomDream wrote:

In the Castle's guest lounge...

Instead of sleeping in the room where her blonde roommate would be, it appears that the redhead had made a makeshift bed right outside the room on the closest couch. Using only a small child's blanket of blue wool and silk, she covered her feet as she settled her head down on the arm of the piece of furniture. Her pale green eyes rested on the blazing flames of the fireplace, and there they stayed until they weighed heavily and closed. She slept soundly throughout most of the night, if not disturbed. She only woke once to check on the blonde who slept alone in the room, yet only to return to her makeshift of a bed to continue her slumber minutes later.....

That certain blonde didn't seem to come out from the room until late the following day, but when she did, she seemed to be garbed in brighter clothing and enjoying whiskey more often in the public lounge. She occasionally had a note or formal letter in the her other hand, possibly recognizable to some citizens of the Living City. The redhead did not seem to need to stay more than one night on the couch. Whatever it was that had happened seemed to have passed... for now.

NinjaClarinet wrote:

One day, the Castellan of the Castle would have paid Hashim's cell a visit. A lone, armored Sentinel trailed behind the Shadovar. A heavy chain, seemingly taken from a ship's anchor, dragged ominously behind the skeletal warrior, a few links coiled around an adamantine-plated forearm. A heavy, wrought-iron collar rested in the undying knight's hand.

"Hashim Hois. It has been decided that your rations grow too expensive for the City to maintain without recompense. You will be given the opportunity to work the forge, and assist our forge-master with the production of weapons, armor, and siege engines. If the quality of your work is inadequate, you will break stones in the Court of the Dead. If you prove too intractable to accomplish even that task, you will be stored in the bowels of the City under an Imprisonment of Temporal Stasis spell. The duration of this labor, or your confinement if you prove uncooperative, is until Colin Reyes lies dead and the war ended. When relative peace is returned to Amia, we may find the time and desire to assess your case and decide your final fate. I suggest you choose wisely."

With that, the Shadovar nodded to the Sentinel, and the collar was opened as they awaited the prisoner's reply.

" I will not leave this city: least The Magister releases me from my debt.

I Will work."

Late the night last, it may have been noted by some that a blonde departed the city with a small rucksack over her shoulder. As if indicating an extended leave, or, perhaps a permanent one. The typical redhead at her side could have been noticed to be missing... but she left no official word as to her departure, at least, not for the public eye.

Over the last few cycles the one known as the Alumnus had travelled into the Living Cities depths of the Library to seek that which may have appeared lost to him.

After what may seem to be an eternity to some spending their time and resources into research for what only could be two weeks. He finally emerges. His robes now adorned with an iced colour, His gaze now baring into any who speak to him since his ascent from the intense studies within the Library.

Power swirls around him, The blizzarding aura he possessed seems to be stronger to weigh on the minds of those who pass.
It seems the Alumnus has finished his laborious studies for now.. Something had changed.

"It is time.."

After the camp was destroyed to every last tent and timber, the Castellan returned to the Living City, the remnants of the Maztican Undead Horde in tow. The zombies are directed into the Crypts in short order. Likewise, the Sentinels and golems were returned to their posts, and their damage assessed. Unless there were orders to the contrary form Gerald, the Living Guard would be ordered to muster for debriefing and casualty assessment. The citizens of Tarkuul are quickly pressed into service operating the infirmary for the wounded, repairing weapons and armor, and ensuring the Living City is in sufficient shape to continue the war if needed.

As soon as the battle is over.. Lucius returns to the Living City and takes the squad of 50 skeletons,
bringing them through a portal outside the gates of Western District. There he instructs them to
collect all the corpses they can and pile them up for transport. The whole process is overseen by the
High Arcanist himself. Even his Winterwight would be collecting the corpses, by the dozens at once.
Should any of the men on the battlefield be found to be alive, he would have them transported into
the infirmary in the Tower of the Eternal. Should any of them belong to the enemy forces, they are
declared war prisoners and put under watch.

Ahriman would return with that everpresent remind of the frost that pulses from him. Blood seems to Marr and spoil the ice white robes he has been seen recently adorning.

After he exits the castle he would be seen attending the Temple of the Vaunted at the stroke of midnight. After what seemed to be a few hours he would be seen coming out of the large double doors that swung wide as he came out into the court of undying to exchange words with the Living Guardmen that had survived the recent event.

He would be seen making his way to the tower of the forsaken for whatever reason would be known to himself.

The redhead watched the comings and goings of the dead and injured, pensively. Her gaze also tracked the faces of the living, careful to not show any emotion as she searched for someone. Yet, she couldn't drown out the cries and muffled noises of pain from the injured. She squeezed her eyes shut, balling her fists at her side. An aggravated noise escaped her throat, and she returned into the castle to her chambers.

Not long after, though, she returned with a small satchel over her arm. She wore clothes some would consider riches, while to her they were just rags. Making her way to the infirmary, she stopped only to check on those she knew, making sure they were alright. Offerings of bandages and water were given, as well as medical advice. When she reached the infirmary, she spoke only a few words to the overseeing healers-- "I can help." If allowed, she would aid in most mundane tasks. Setting breaks, wrapping bandages, and cleaning wounds. Entertaining the men with smiles and laughs, while adding salves of healing components or numbing concoctions. Proficient with a needle, she would also aid in stitching, and perhaps assist in surgical means if necessary.

It seems while even though she does not possess what she once did, she still did put effort in to help these people for hours. She worked until she her eyes would not stay open anymore. Lethargically, she said her goodbyes, and returned to the Castle to rest. .

From the arena in the court of the living, the terrifying screams of a Banshee's wail can be heard. Those curious -and brave- enough to see what was happening would see the Necromaster with the assistance of Illuminatus Ahriman practising the casting of Wail of the Banshee.

After several hours of training, the Necromaster grew fatigued and so training ceased for the day. She retreated back to her office with the Illuminatus and the High Arcanist, Lucius Blackwater, following in her stead.

Kaelthas could be seen in the midst of Tarkuul, wandering about and admiring the great city; he also was seen in the Temple of Velsharoon with Ahriman two nights ago, the latter educating the former on matters of undeath and the nature of the undead. Kaelthas left that evening a bit more educated, and with a thirst for knowledge in his head.

The great bards of the Realms tell may tales of war, yet they always seem to leave out mention of the bloody, hectic aftermath. Though even the care of the Enclave's infirmary sees a few of the Living Guard and the strangely silent Archon Knights of the Silence Luminous die of their mortal injuries, a score or more are saved by the ministrations of those tending the new infirmary. Even of those not seriously injured, the patching of a burn here, the stitching of a slash there - all such efforts vital to the continued war effort.

As casualty reports roll in over the last few days since the battle, a somber mood seems to grow throughout the Enclave. Many of its citizens - those who previously called Cordor home - hear tales of the battle and how the West was nearly torn into, and are reminded that even though they have escaped to relative safety, not everyone they knew has. Even those citizens not from Cordor are reminded that even the might of the Enclave is not impervious, that its nose can be bloodied, and its soldiers can be slain.

Wounds from battle aren't the only ones seen by the infirmary. For much of the night the High Captain and one of his Centurions are seen at work across the city, through the towers to take a hold of alchemical equipment. At the forge grinding odd things from gems to bones, and in the newest court firing what seemed to be a cauldron of ink. Whatever happened seemed to have, perhaps, lead to a poor ending as the night turns to dawn and the hoarse screams of Centurion Asya are heard echoing through the undercroft.

The High Captain would be seen carrying her out, crude field medicine seeing her mostly bound up in bandages. Unconscious, and most of her visible skin bearing blackish burns. The next morning she may be seen grimly leaving the infirmary, bandages covering nearly every inch of her. Most likely bedrest would have been recommended, but by her own words 'There's a damn war on.'

Very_Svensk wrote:

" I will not leave this city: least The Magister releases me from my debt.

I Will work."

The Shadovar would have nodded, and allowed the Sentinel to affix the collar. Hashim would be allowed to travel to and from his "home cell" and Havok's forge, but little other freedom is given. Havok and Hashim are provided with designs to work on, consisting of an assortment of light sabers, Kozakuran katanas, and traditional broadswords. Two armor designs are provided as well, one heavy, one light. The armor would seem to match Luca's in appearance; the traditional armor of the long dead Netherese Imperium, with strange elements of Kozakuran inspiration. A simplistic medium shield with the Living City's crest is also proscribed. On Hashim's first day of work, the Castellan spends some time constructing a few flimsy privacy screens our of spare timber to cordon off the forge area. Whether they are to protect the warrior's pride from the watching eyes of the citizens, or to keep him isolated, it is unspoken.

The redhead was a familiar sight in the infirmary. She would come during the mornings and tend to the those still stationed. Now that normal medicinal needs were taken care of, she tries to lift their spirits with reading to them from a book--or speaking to them one-on-one. When she leaves, she seems to aimlessly wander about the City as if silently meditating in her own way. A soft humming could be heard, but nothing indicates what sort of tune it may be.

When she grows tired of walking, a portal is opened in the privacy of her own room, and she disappears. Normally her disappearances aren't for long, though. The first time she disappeared, three nights ago, she returned through the main gate so infuriated with tears and anger, she spoke to nobody. A loud slam could have been heard from the door to her private chambers, and crying from the opposite side was silenced eerily afterwards. The second time she disappeared, two nights ago, she returned with a laugh and quiet smile as she crept away into the privacy of her room for rest. The third night she disappeared, just last night, she returned carrying many-upon-many bundles of scrolls and bandages. She made her way straight to the infirmary, and tended to sorting the new additions to their inventory she'd brought.

A certain blonde strides through the entrance to Tarkuul and makes her way quickly to the Castle. She stops and leaves a sealed letter for the Speaker, or, she clarifies afterwards, the Castellan. Noone else is to open her missive, stamped and officially marked by The Commonwealth. It regards important matters for the morrow. You would do best to deliver this quickly. Else your masters may be mad. Then, she spared a glance for the walls, smiling slightly. I missed you. Perhaps tell Luca I'm enjoying the new fire at the forge. She laughed softly.

Samantha would make her way back out of the city again, rather quickly, but not before stopping by the library...

In the typical unceremonious fashion of the Necromaster, she departed to the Lowland swamps with her Greater Mummy following close behind. She returned to the city less than an hour later, her Mummy now gone.

---

Meanwhile in the lowland swamps, a powerful Mummy wanders aimlessly around, killing the resident Trogladytes and Bloodmoon orcs with great proficiency. Embellished on the ancient chest plate of this mummy was a crowned lich skull on a black hexagon. The symbol of the Lich Lord, Velsharoon. The creator of such a creature nowhere near to be found.

In the infirmary...

After two individual share a conversation, the dark-clad gentleman leaves the redhead to prepare for upcoming events. Quickly, she sets about with purpose. Fresh cots are put up with new bedding. Old cots, that once held dead bodies or injured, were stripped of their dirty linens (if were still there), and fresh were applied. She is precise to make sure nothing is contaminated. She scrubs down all surfaces, before she sets out surgical instruments, bandages, and a few divine materials such as wands and scrolls for easy access. Where such materials came from, it's not known, but it's safe to say--she'd covered all basics of preparing...for what was to come.

Emotionless and unsettling voice cracked the silence of Castle Tarkuul.

"This is not the last time we hear of Collin Reyes. Whatever was done
to him, it was Centurion Asya who did it. I shall return to my research
now. Knowledge and Power."

On the last eve just past midnight, A figure in Ice white robes stained with blood stumbles into the Living city with two members of the living guard.

The winds that accompany around him fluster and thicken as he staggered into the temple of the vaunted, Apparently clutching at his eyes..

A short while later the figure walks out of the temple..

During the Feast..

The redhead is seen, along with another woman known as Iim, tending to the new citizens of Tarkuul during a part of the Feast. Hot plates of food were served, as well as frosted beverages such as water and spirits. Kaytie smiles and reassures them all, talking casually as she mingled with the crowd. After awhile, though, she is paused by the kindness shown by the other woman. Iim surprised her, by showing her a different side then what the redhead was used to seeing. Here she was, aiding a rather weakened newcomer, with compassion. She held his utensil and aided him in eating a few bits, seeming to genuinely have care. The redhead glanced around to judge how the other newcomers were, and frowned. So many of them, weakened and not as strong as others...These people needed guidance, perhaps even assurance they were well off in their new home. A glance was spared across the bar, to where the VIP's set in their nice suits and dresses, eating away at a Feast prepared. A mumble escaped under her breath, and she shook her head in a disapproving manner. To cover the real cause of her disapproval though, she commented on their attire, using a woman as an example. She was baiting someone to take up interest in those who'd spent their lives in captivity. . .

..Later on...

Leaving the Feast early provided the redhead much comfort. She didn't seem to like parties all that well anymore. Most of the evening, she stood silently beside Luca, with not much comment even muttered. She didn't have to leave, in all honesty, but her level of comfort was pushed. Saying goodbye to her love, and to his friend, gave her a chance to escape for awhile. She was feeling compelled to do something more beneficial, anyways. Help. Leaving the Tavern, she only made a small beeline to the gates to check and see if the Cordorian guard had left, before turning her night into work at the infirmary. Not caring about her robe, or her hair, she settled in with getting a head-count of all those who'd just arrived. More cots were set up if necessary, though she'd just set up more a night ago as well. Bandages were applied, gashes and wounds were tended to, and those who were more terminally ill were sectioned off from the rest for divine workings. Throughout the night, vitals were taken by mundane means, and recorded, and cold water was given to those who needed it. Again, as before, the redhead did not seem to cease her caring for them until fatigue overwhelmed her, at which point she headed to the Castle to finally get some deserved rest.

During the feast a man who may have been seen recently in Cordor wearing more adventuresome attire made an appearance with a white-haired woman on his arm. He parted ways with the woman he stayed close to Luca as the elder Shadovar continued to push drinks into his hand. He listened attentively to the lady Caroth's story and helped to guide the freed slaves to the appropriate places, but soon retired for the night.

To those in Tarkuul, the man looks familiar, though a name probably escapes them unless they have frequented the Temple in the Court of the Living. To any who happen upon the man later he introduces himself simply as Andante.

Every fourty eight hours, the High Captain and Centurion Asya can be seen renewing the magnicifent mansion portals in the Court of the Living. Those inside are escorted out in an orderly fashion by the Living Guard before being escorted back inside when the portals are renewed and recasted.

Three nights past, true to his word, a steady stream of ragged men and women poured forth from the portal into Tarkuul during the prelude hours of the feast Mherun had arranged. After a brief run-in with a Cordorian delegation that had arrived just before, hastily ushered into the City to allow room for the arriving ex-slaves, the Living Guard took to sorting the newly free-men based on their immediate needs.

A great many were guided (some even carried) directly to the infirmary, others to makeshift accommodations in the form of Magnificent Mansion spells if not seriously wounded yet in need of rest. Those most hale and healthy were led to the Ghostly Kraken itself, seated at tables among the other citizens of the Enclave present that night, and treated to a bounty of the sea; fresh fish accompanied by some of the more commonplace mushroom sides that the denizens of the Living City have grown accustomed to.

Over the next few days and nights, the Living Guard and a great many of the Enclave's citizens see to the health and welfare of these new arrivals. Sewing blankets, patching old clothes for donation (or ripping them into bandages if too far gone), lending an extra hand in the kitchen or infirmary; not an idle hand remains in the city.

Slowly but surely, the needs of each of the slaves are met, the most critical cases tended to first. Many would be grateful for the reprieve, even if they believe themselves to have traded one master for another, some few remaining outright suspicious but too cowed and broken by their previous Illithid masters to act on it. There are those who begin to warm to the idea that they may finally be free however, those few who had enough of a spark of hope remaining to believe such, still remain in the minority...

A particular blonde stops by for a brief time, wandering the city and taking a look around. She stops to interact with some of the rescued slaves, speaks to whoever may choose to engage her and leaves a note for a redhead that is still sometimes staying in the Castle.

The newly appointed Magistrate of Tarkuul is seen in the court of the Living during the recent days. Within the infirmary he passes by the body of each fallen, giving the deceased a moment of his focus. Some are carried away by skeletons down into the crypts as they are, while others have their cloaks removed and the Magistrate makes a note in a large book he carries with him.

In the Court of the Dead, the High Arcanist stood upon the platform
as the final touches were put into it. For a while he observed it with
keen interest, measuring its surface and writing down some notes.
Obviously satisfied, Lucius headed into the Tower of the Damned.

"At last.."

For a few cycles the human figure clad in Iced armour hasn't been seen making his usual visits to the towers or the castle.

It would seem that previously a few cycles ago that human figure had went into the Temple opposite Castle Tarkuul and only silence seemed to echo from the entrance.

However a presence could definitely be felt due to a drop in temperature as is customary with the figure that accompanies it.

If ones open the doors, No inclination of their acknowledgement would be made.. Only a solemn, Lone figure in silent prayer could be witnessed in front of the Idol.

And once more, the High Arcanist would set by the portal and start chanting.
Some of the citizens would already be familiar with this kind of procedure for
it is certainly not the first time it is being performed. In the past, his chanting
would last for at least five days and would be accompanied by a new addition
to the Tarkuul's portal system soon thereafter. But where will it lead this time?

The Necromaster appears to be notably absent the last few days. Letters sent to her office simply going unanswered

Perpetual chant reaches into the second day and it seems
that the flow of energy is different. Progress is being made.

A human woman steps through the main portal to the city, unseen by any except those that can pierce the deepest shadows. She makes her way into the crypts, to a certain office in the Tower of the Damned, and then to the castle. She lingers in the city as though waiting on someone or something.

More than a half-day later a figure stalks into the Temple of Shadow. Those that live there would know her from a previous extended stay. Her sharp steps are punctuated with frustration bordering on fury that attempts to hide something much worse, fear. She stopped abruptly at the end of the waterfall, her gaze on the dark slab that stood upon the dais and growled, "Naut vith'ez fa'narow!" before she stomped her way upstairs.

In the late hours of the night, Gerald can be see returning to Tarkuul with the Living Guard. Shortly thereafter he makes his way into the tower of the Damned, and returns only to inform his men of his resignation before leaving.

The tiefling Palemaster Kylex can be seen walking through Tarkuul in recent days, entering and exiting the Ghostly Kraken. It may be apparent to the patrons that she is in need of substantial quantities of embalming fluid.

For those who have keen eyes within Tarkuul, Kylex enters a particular temple during the quietest of hours, but never is seen exiting this temple. This pattern continues for several nights.

While she stays mostly out of sight, those that happen across a certain returned resident might overhear her murmuring a mantra to herself in drowish. The same two or three short phrases seem to be repeated over and over. If disturbed she would be slow to respond, taking moments to return to herself and recall where she was.

In recent cycles and with the recent events of each individual in the Living City, The Figure would be watching each unique journey as he walked between the Court of the Undying and the Living, Seeming to enter into a building that seems to be secluded and held securely within the court of the Living,
The power of the arcane buzzes from within.

As the figure in iced white plated armour, Coupled with a shroud on the left arm concealing a majority of the hand seems to catch attention to the citizens there.

On the hour before midnight he was seen donating an adequate sum to the shrine of umber lee, Murmuring in a reverent tone to the Bitch queen as the figure held what seemed to be a respectful ceremony for a short while before leaving the coin there.

After the figure paid homage to umberlee's shrine, The castle echoed of the screams of hatred from the depths. Any who passed by Castle Tarkuul could hear such a dire and desparate noise.

This continued for several hours as what could also be heard as metal striking similar to a pain that one would feel the dull ache in a tooth or a bone. Grinding into any passer's by being.

In the depths laughter ensued, Energy pulsated around the corrupted mythal as the occupier seemed to continue in a unique line of work within the forge room.

Near twilight, Kylex enters the catacombs. She lights candles and begins to chant incantations after some other ritual preparations. Her chanting becomes deeper as she continues, and the catacombs echo with reverberation. The chanting abruptly turns to a cry of pain that can be heard by most of the inhabitance of the city.

A Breath in the Silence: "Life" in Tarkuul

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