RP:Coda for the Returned
Part of the The God of Undeath Arc
Summary: The end is only the beginning. When the heroes converged to strip a false god of it's ability to wreak havoc, someone came back with Kasyr to the world of the living. Odhranos' sudden reappearance shakes a crippled Karasu out of her catatonia. Unfortunately for the terramancer, the world has changed for the worse in his absence, and so has the woman who was once his found family.
Castle Blackwell
Before you stands the dreaded stronghold of Countess Quintessa, the Shield of the East, in all its glory. The thick ebony walls that enclose the area around this citadel are unbroken save for two places; Two grand gates held open or closed by massive flesh golems at the wheel. These heavy gates have been built into the dark stone, made of thick wood and plated in heavy Ghroundium, which is engraved with interwoven spiders and burnished to a silver-like shine. Within these walls, modeled after the famous Vailkrin Plaza and re-envisioned in a style she calls ‘Art Draco’, the Countess has had the streets paved in ebony stone and adorned with elegant, silvery street lights that glow an ominous green as the lime flames light the way. The black stone walls are left unadorned save for several green-burning sconces and a series of banners, each flag bearing the black hand of Vailkrin upon a shield wrapped in thorny, flowering vines. To the west lies a short path leading through a second pair of gates, taking you to a massive black spire that stretches into the gloomy Vailkrin skies above the Dark Forest. Large enough to house at least a 500 soldier garrison, their families if any, the castle servants, and Quintessa’s courtiers, any merchants that wish to set up shop within the citadel are also welcome after strict approval. Said garrison is mostly undead, proof of this along the walls as there is not a moment that the Countess’ skeletal archers aren’t looking down on the surrounding area, nor is there a moment when her vampiric pikemen aren’t wielding halberds at the gates to defend these walls from their Mistress’ enemies, domestic or foreign. As a vassal state of the Vailkrin Crown, the Dark Forest Court always receives allies of Vailkrin if they come seeking sanctuary, though if you do not have business with House Dragana or the Necromancer’s Guild nor are you a known ally of the Crown, your presence here will be viewed with suspicion. Loitering too long will get you reported to the Countess either way, for the shadows are always watching and within these walls there is not a single place they cannot see.
Karasu wonders how long it has been since Quintessa walked out. The moonlight had been sitting at the foot of the bed when her fiancée walked in. She had told her that something important was going to happen tonight, that if all went well, the end of their nightmares would be over… And that she loved her. Karasu did not respond. Karasu had not responded to any stimulus from any person, even her own son, since the incident. Now the red light of the mage’s moon was shining directly through her window, just a hair’s breadth away from getting into her eyes. She forces herself to sit up. The bony protrusion on the small of her back where her spotted tail once was digs into the silk, the dead mass leaving scratches across the fabric in its wake. There is screaming in the distance, coming from the city and far more than what one would expect on a usual night. She would not find out until later that the city had suddenly fallen to anarchy in the wake of the ritual Quintessa was conducting at that very moment, but for now, it just sounds obnoxious. Karasu snaps her fingers without a word, a cantrip forcing the curtains to close. It would be fine. Everything would eventually be quiet again, and her world would soon be submerged in darkness for another night. No thinking about the fact that she can barely walk without the aid of the limb that kept her balance. No thinking about anything. And yet, here was light again, intruding on her solitude. Karasu looks towards the small table in her room where a compass lays coated in a layer of dust to be forgotten about. It was a faint glimmer of something, as if trying to beckon her attention. “No.” The words sound harsh and hoarse coming from her rarely used voice as she turns her head away.
A quiet silvery whisper floats through the crimson night, pulled on by an insistent call. Like a snowflake of pure blue light, it drifts and flurries through the air, high over the noise and chaos as Vailkrin unwove itself beneath, beckoned onward towards the dark and foreboding citadel. It steals in between the thick curtains, like a mote of starlight, and drifts to the small table gently, casting the faintest cerulean glow upon the floor. It lands with the lightest of touches on the very centre of the compass, looking for all the world like a tiny blue firefly had alighted on the dial’s glass, before sinking into alexandrite heart, which pulses, then stills. Then lights again. Thrum thrum. A pause. Thrum thrum. The alexandrite heart begins to beat, slowly, then stronger with every slow heavy moment, as faint life enters the dark room.
This was another hallucination created by the ravages of the wars she was forced to participate and lose in. It is what she tells herself as her rhodolite irises trace the intruder’s path. No, if she focused her eyes, she would see that it was little more than a reflection of Valaane’s light against part of the curtains that hadn’t closed… Only this does not happen. The heart of the compass beats once, and Karasu straightens, watching as the light intensifies with each beat of life. The former spellbade forces herself to her feet, falling once and sending her nightstand crashing to the floor as she tries to keep herself from hitting the ground. Her entire petite frame is shaking now as her long untamed curls fall around her face. “I can’t do this again.” Karasu whispers. Thrum thrum. “You’re dead, Odie.” Karasu snarls, forcing one foot in front of the other as she rises to her feet. Thrum thrum. “You’re godsblasted fragging dead and I couldn’t do anything to help you!” She screams at the compass, holding herself against the wall as she makes her way to the pale blue light. Thrum thrum. She wanted to hold it. She wanted to destroy it. She wanted to dive into it. She wanted to will the nightmare away. With trembling hands, Karasu reaches out towards the compass, gently brushing the layer of dust that had accumulated off of it. “What do you want from me? Are you even real, Odhranos?” She asks, cupping one hand around the alexandrite heart.
The light from the heart washes over Karasu, blue and green and crimson, and within the glow, the dust Karasu brushed away seems to float, suspended in midair. The light ebbs and grows then coalesces into a robed sleeve, an arm, an ethereal familiar hand that cups Karasu’s hand from beneath, two silver eyes, and a face as warm as summer sun. “As real as the air you breath, Karasu.” Odhranos’ voice is gentle, as he lifts his other hand and places it over the compass, letting the iridescent light spill between his fingers. “As real as every day we spent in my office, pouring over books together. As real as every scratch and bruise we shared, running through the hallways of the tower, chased by the magisters for stealing into where we shouldn’t have. As real as this heart you carried for me.” The alexandrite thrums with life now, shedding a glow that brushes away the shadows and cobwebs from the corners of the room. “This brought me home.” His index finger taps the gem, which rings with a cheerful peal. “I am home. Karasu. And I’m sorry I took so long.”
Karasu reaches up with both hands, her brows furrowed as her fingers make contact with something not entirely there, but not entirely nonexistent. “Either you’ve returned from Perdere or I’ve gone completely mad.” She murmurs, her fingers brushing against grey strands as she pulls back. There should have been joy in her heart. The memories he speaks of are there, but the energetic child that had shared those memories with feels detached, as though she is watching the memories of another. Her hands rest upon the hand that touches the compass, watching as the light spills through. “I suppose keeping your body alive was not in vain, then…” Her eyes widen slightly with realization. “Your body. We kept it suspended with necromancy because there was hope you would come back to it.” Moving away from the wall, Karasu grabs the scabbard of her sword and props it against the ground as though it were a cane. She pauses, a surge of bitterness crawling into her chest. For now, she would fight it. She could enjoy this madness a while longer. “I suppose if your soul came here of all places, then you require an escort back to your body.” Karasu muses, gingerly picking up the compass and holding it face-up on her palm with her free hand. As she hobbles towards the far wall, where a door with a colored wheel stands, she adds, “The world has changed since you were last here. I feel like I told Dryaxdiin the same thing when he woke up from his hibernation for the final time.”
Odhranos laughs softly at Karasu’s comment. “Stranger things have happened before. I always felt the Veil between here and there wasn’t quite as final as it seemed. Though I had the guidance of someone well used to crossing the boundary.” As Karasu leans on her sword heavily, the ghostly terramancer’s brow creases with concern. “Karasu…” The mage steps quickly after the feline, turning to face her with worry. “Kasyr found me in the Beyond, he told me some of what I had missed but…” Odhranos stoops to look her in the eye, his iron-grey irises shining with a dull sheen. “The escorting can wait. That body… I-” Odhranos’ voice is somber, but resigned. “I cannot hear its call any more.” The mage’s face is drawn, perhaps a hint of regret behind his expression, but it is wiped away just as quickly by concern. “Given the circumstances, He advised me to prepare for that eventuality…” Odh grimaces, then reaches out to hold Karasu’s arm, to try and lend some support, perhaps to offer a shoulder that she may lean on. “Whatever is awaiting me, it can wait a bit longer. Tell me. What happened, Little Cat?”
Karasu tenses when she is touched, perhaps from fear that the sensation is not true, or the unfamiliarity of the feeling. “Kasyr saved you?” Her long hair obscures her face which is twisted in anger. “The same Kasyr that nearly killed Quintessa when she showed him that her actions were being made under duress?” Karasu inhales sharply. “I have not been your little cat for a long time now.” She says bitterly. “I am just a rabid animal that acts too rashly without being told the entire truth. I am a cat without a tail, and without the ability to maintain my own balance now because I touched something that I did not have the power to control yet, and I suffered the consequences.” She takes a shuddering, restrained breath, and holds the compass out to Odhranos. Her head rises to meet his grey gaze. “The little cat is dead, and like you, I must find for myself what I will become next. If you can move freely, go then see the madness for yourself. Go see the clown that’s taken up residence in your office, and go see your wife who might just be more insane than I am since she can’t understand why an experimental process more likely to fail than not would not be immediately shared with a grieving widow.”
Odhranos’s face falls at Karasu’s anger. When the compass is held out to him, he takes it gingerly, staring into the glassy depths of the alexandrite, which still pulses with life. “Kasyr gave me the questions I needed to be asking myself. Without them, I didn’t have the conviction to return.” Odhranos turns the device over in his hands, tracing the crystalline edges of the gem with his thumb. “I had made promises. Promises I failed to keep. Promises that I needed to come back to make good. Promises important enough to defy the Veil.” Holding the device up to his eyes, Odhranos reaches into the metal surround and with a tug, loosens the crystal from the compass, which now glimmers with a bright incandescence. From within the compass, golden thread follows, twisting around the gem like a weave of sunlight, orbiting Odhranos’ finger and thumb as he holds the alexandrite carefully. Turning his gaze away from the crystal, Odhranos looks at Karasu with eyes that don’t speak of pain or regret like they once did. Those grey-silver eyes are afire with warm conviction. “Just because that little cat is dead doesn’t mean she always will be. There may come a day when the sun shines on both of us again.” Odhranos holds the gem up and smiles brightly. “I’m going to keep that hope in this heart she gave me, just in case.” And with that, Odhranos presses the crystal into his chest. A bloom of azure light, and with a rustle, dust from all corners of the room rushes towards Odhranos. Bit by bit, loose crumbs of dirt, sand and stone dust rush to the heart, which now beats in the terramancers chest. In a moment, a corporeal figure stands before Karasu, features as familiar as day cast in living stone. Odhranos blinks his stone eyes, looking at Karasu from this new body. “I will understand if we do not meet for some time. I am now a foreigner in this world I once knew, and I must come to terms with how things have changed before I can find my place in it. But even if this is our parting, I want to say thank you. For everything.” Odhranos reaches into the compass housing and takes out a small scrap of fabric. On this clipping, a small purple black panther is embroidered, encircled in golden thread. He places this on the table, where the compass had lain, before looking back at Karasu. “As it has always been and as it always will be, my door will be open to you, Karasu, Daughter of the Tower. As will my heart.”
Karasu watches as he plucks the alexandrite heart from the compass she had given him so long ago, when she was a younger and more naive woman. Odhranos deserved better than this dark and dreary room that she had confined herself to. Despite going to death and back, his heart was still pure. Just like… Karasu snaps her fingers, using a cantrip to open the curtains again. The floor to ceiling windows overlook the bridge that leads in and out of the Dark Forest, towards Larket. Littered on the ground where the former spellblade had fallen before, shards of shattered crystal glitter in the moonlight. Karasu’s own compass sits with scorch marks and cracks around its golden center, and the garnet gemstone that had been gingerly placed shard by shard back in the socket now lays in pieces once again at her feet. She stands up straighter when she sees the woven panther, turning to look at the corporeal Odhranos. Despite their shared past, despite how much kindness he was showing her, the terramancer now felt further away from her than he had been when he was trapped between life and death. Perhaps it was her that was standing further away. “We’ll meet again when you can call these lands home again, I’m sure. Fate is not kind enough to keep you away from me.” Karasu forces a smile, a bitter one. She turns away and sits on the edge of the bed, holding her sword with white knuckles as though it were the only thing keeping her tethered to this dream. “Welcome back, Odhranos.” The broken spellblade finally says, though it carries the tone of a farewell.