RP:You Must Have Been Heartbroken
Part of the The God of Undeath Arc
Part of the You Must Have Been Human Arc
This is a Necromancer's Guild RP.
Summary: Karasu confronts the ever increasingly erratic Quintessa after the near assassination of the mayor of Cenril. Both at their wits end, their ordeal is made worse when Kanna reveals that her ability to channel necromantic magic was tied to her now damaged instrument, the true nature of her release from the God of Undeath's hands, and delivers the letter sent out by Necromancer's Guild leader Khitti regarding current events. Karasu airs her grievances at the bard and threatens her life, blaming her for the situation they now find themselves in, and Quintessa agrees that it's time for Kanna to leave Vailkrin. Kanna bestows upon Karasu a coveted place in the Necromancer's Guild as a parting gift, and to Quintessa, a gift to aid her in her quest to see this tragedy through to the end. The Tsuji sisters are once again, and perhaps for the final time, separated by a fate cruel to them.
Khitt(i)'s Letter
An official guild letter, with wax seal, and Khitt(i)'s unmistakeable shadow-ink handwriting that is unable to be forged thanks to that particular type of ink, has been sent not only to guild members, but Valrae, Kasyr, Lanlan, and members of the press in all regions of Lithrydel and Rynvale Island, so that everyone, everywhere will be made aware of what's said below. If your guild/clan is the secretive type, or you're the leader Larket or Alithrya, you find out via the press release.
Good day to all members of the Necromancer's Guild, fellow guild leaders, region leaders, clan leaders, members of the press, and anyone else that finds themselves reading this correspondence during this difficult time.
With the recent attack and outright act of war against Mayor Valrae Baines and Cenril itself by Quintessa Blackwell, as well as the alliance between Quintessa and the horrid being known as Alithyk Caluss who continues even now to destroy life as we know it, retroactive immediately any and all paperwork filed within this guild that is either officially or seemingly unofficially by Quintessa Blackwell, Saorsa Cladach, or anyone that has aligned themselves with or falls under the domain of House Blackwell is null and void. Anything bearing Quintessa Blackwell's signature will be brought immediately to the Thanatos Domini for inspection.
In addition to this, Miss Blackwell is hereby suspended from teaching and while she will retain her rank as Provectus Malus for now, any and all responsibilities that pertain to her will be directed to Thanatos Domini Khitt(i) Herzegler, until such time as Alithyk Caluss has been eliminated and Quintessa has been properly apprehended and a trial to determine punishment has been had, by not just the Necromancer's Guild, but likely from other guild and region leaders as well.
Anyone else found aiding and abetting Quintessa Blackwell, House Blackwell, or Alithyk Caluss will also be taken in for questioning and, if necessary, punishment will be administered for those individuals that fall under the Necromancer's Guild's jurisdiction, and their testimonies sent towards the proper authorities for further scrutiny.
Until peace can be attained once more, continue to remain steadfast, keep an eye out for anything, and report what you see or hear related to this matter to the authorities.
Your Thanatos Domini, Khitt(i) Herzegler
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 looks at the Fisherman’s Almanac, her entire body shaking with disbelief and fury. News had broken overnight of Valrae’s near assassination at Quintessa’s hands. The warlock had urged her to rest and go to sleep just so she could sneak out and do this. The front door opens just on the other end of the castle’s ground floor, and Karasu moves to intercept her. “Quintessa!” Her heeled boots click against the black marble floors furiously as she catches up to her. Ruby eyes trail down her lover’s battered and bloodied form, and Karasu bites her lip so hard she knows it will bruise. “Do you even intend on living to see our wedding, Tessa? Are you trying to kill yourself to get away from Alithyk Caluss?” There was a plan, she knew of this from their shared time in dreams, but this… this was too much for Karasu to comprehend.
Quintessa flinches at the sound of slamming doors and the angry voice of her lover as she is caught in the middle of removing her cloak. She hadn’t even gotten a chance to get cleaned up yet, her strangely undamaged gear still dripping with her blood. The pain in her eyes is visible when she turns to face her fiance, but it isn’t because of the wounds. “Karasu,” She looks down at the feline, about to say something, but then her face hardens and her lips press into a flat line. She turns away to struggle with removing her cloak, her left arm hanging useless at her side as she pulls it off one-handed. “If I was was going to kill myself I’d just do it. No, this was to send a message.” Already servants are coming to assassist Quintessa but her icy glare halts them before they even cross her grand hall. “Leave us!” The wrath in her voice sends the vampiric maids retreating the way they came as Quintessa turns to face Karasu with indignation. “I’m not the only vulnerable one in all this- Valrae left herself wide open, I had no choice but to act. We are at war now, Karasu, maybe not openly but Kasyr made that clear the night he tried to kill me. He set the rules for this game- I am simply following them.”
Karasu trembles as she steps forward, gingerly assisting in removing the cloak for her. “Let me make something clear. -I- am the only one who is allowed to kill you, and right now, I’m pretty gods damned close to it.” She reaches up, roughly pulling Quintessa by her hair down into a frustrated and passionate kiss. After a moment, Karasu releases her, tears now pricking at the edges of her eyes. “For a lieutenant, you’re a horrible tactician, you know that? Your injuries are messing with your mind, and I hate it. Going out without telling me of all people, striking while you’re still injured, choosing such a violent method instead of something more clandestine like a poison or a curse. I know you didn’t kill her, she’s on our level for a reason. But Xalious almighty, Valrae did nothing wrong here, why her?” Karasu doesn’t hesitate to vent her frustrations at the warlock, hoping one of them will cause something, anything to change.
Quintessa is expecting a punch, not a kiss, so when Karasu pulls Quintessa into one her entire demeanor changes. Now there was no indignation left, only the confusion and guilt of her actions. She wants to explain, to talk without Caluss watching but she knows that’s impossible. She stares at Karasu for a long moment before she decides to admit what she was doing. “There is a reason she’s not dead, and it’s not because I’m a bad tactician.. Come with me, I’ll show you.” Quintessa leads Karasu to her viewing room, which wasn’t far, just through a door connected to the hall. The viewing room is empty, save for the massive crystal ball in the center of the room and the pews that encircle it. “Valrae is Kasyr’s trusted confidant. They conduct secret meetings in her home where they conspire against me. Both them -and- Lanlan.” Quintessa waves her good hand, establishing scrying connections to the runes she left in Valrae’s foyer, entertainment room, and office. “The attack was a distraction to conceal my real purpose there, to spy on her.” She turns to give Karasu a serious look. “If my purpose there was to kill her then she’d be dead… this report in the paper? It only furthers my false narrative.” The seriousness fades as she suddenly feels faint, needing to sit down in the first row of pews as blood drips down her left fingers. “I can’t protect her, Karasu. Caluss would not allow me to bargain for her life. Only you, Berry, Khitti, and Kanna are safe from me.”
Karasu can’t help but furrow her brows in confusion as Quintessa admits that murder was never the goal, and follows behind her to the sparse room. Part of her is relieved that she could get across that her feelings for the changeling could never outweigh the frustrations, but the relief is ripped away as the next statement sinks in. “She’s working against us.” Such a possibility had never occurred to Karasu before. Lanlan was less surprising, yet somehow less believable. Lanlan desperately wanted to see Kasyr dead or at least completely out of everyone’s lives as well, or so she had thought. Was that a ruse, too? When Quintessa stumbles into a pew, Karasu moves quickly. “Jemlyth.” Her tone is a sharp staccato that betrays how furious she is for believing they could ever all be friends as a frightened vampire enters the room from just outside the doors. “Gauze.” The material is produced quickly, and Karasu makes quick work of the basic first-aid. Quintessa’s top is easily cut apart with her claws so that she can better ascertain the injury, just being careful enough to not inflict further wounds. “Smokes.” She orders the servant, who flees the room at the opportunity. Karasu stems the flow of blood and starts the arduous process of wrapping the bandages. “We can conspire too. Let me target Lanlan. His disdain of Kasyr feels genuine enough that I can exploit our shared distaste.” She grits her teeth. “If I knew necromancy, I could use more clandestine spellwork…”
Quintessa shifts to give Karasu access to her injuries, an unspoken agreement between them to always lick each other’s wounds when they needed it. The clean cut in her shoulder pieces all the way through her shoulder, suspiciously similar in size to Quintessa’s own sword. She winces every once in a while when the bandages irritate the injury, but otherwise she just listens and nods along. “Yes, Lanlan is a valuable tool but so long as he remains opposed to Caluss he will not trust me. You might be able to reach him, though I wonder if they all assume you have made a similar pact...” Quintessa considers the prospect of Karasu learning necromancy and she nods again, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth to create a smirk. “You should learn it. I can teach you… show you how I adapted spellblade techniques into hexblade ones. The D’chath blood as well- Shadow-fire is a natural fit if you ask me… and I am still Provectus Malus, I can have the paperwork completed to admit you into the Necromancer’s Guild if you desire. Truthfully, if you are going to live so close to the Black Spire you ought to join anyway…”
Karasu makes a face as she fastens the last of the gauze into a knot. “Isn’t the Blood Ties law still technically in effect?” It was an old rule from hundreds of years ago to prevent members of a singular family monopolising a guild with thinly veiled nepotism, back when everyone turned to guilds for protection in places where leadership was nonexistent. “To do that through the official avenues, Kanna would have to give up her spot. I can’t put the Necromancer’s Guild at risk of losing its accreditation with the Avenue of the Guilds.” Karasu rises and unbuttons the outer layer of her clothing, gingerly helping her fiance get her injured arm through the sleeve so that Quintessa maintain some modesty. In the lantern light of the scrying room, Quintessa can easily see the fractal lightning scars she had left on Karasu some years ago, still a discolored dark series of lines beneath her skin and dipping beneath the black camisole she wore under her shirt. “After everything she’s done, she shouldn’t even…” There’s a knock at the door and the soft soubrette of someone asking for permission to enter. Speak of the King of Perdere and they will come, they say. Karasu presses her lips into a thin line, still adamant about speaking to Kanna as little as possible.
Quintessa has never heard of such a rule, but then again it wasn’t uncommon for the changeling to causally disregard some ancient bylaw, but she also knows that Karasu is not so flippant so she doesn’t argue. Before Quintessa can respond either the door is knocked upon and Quintessa dims the crystal ball before Kanna can see anything. “You?” The warlock doesn’t seem too pleased about who it is. “I thought you had been asked to stay out of the castle…” She glances at the scrying object to make certain nothing was visible to give away what she had done at Valrae’s last night. “Fine, what do you want? Is it important? If it’s about the Blood Bowl just ask Saorsa.”
Kanna opens the doorway to the scrying room, her eyes still swollen and red from crying. “I need to talk to you.” She addresses Quintessa simply. Karasu glowers at her, but takes a seat next to the warlock as if to remind Kanna that Quintessa belonged to her. Kanna removes the musical instrument from her back and moves to undo the little golden lock that holds the folding pieces together. Already noticeable is that the marbled foxglove wood is missing the opalescent petals of the flowers that adorn its case. When the latch snaps open, one of the pieces of the koto tumbles down and hits the floor, the wooden joinery clattering across the floor, and the piece hanging uselessly by the strings. Even the spellblade is not unmoved by the display; she leans forward as if to ascertain whether this is a trick or not. “My abilities to channel the necromantic arts just died with my zither. I am not at liberty to disclose what happened right now, but I felt this was serious enough to warrant informing you immediately.” Karasu rises, her eyes narrowing. “Were you eavesdropping?” Kanna’s jaw sets. “No, but I don’t have to be eavesdropping.” She says, holding up the letter written by Khitti to all Necromancer’s Guild members. “Everyone knows.”
Quintessa is unable to treat Kanna with the same coldness Karasu was capable of, the sight of her broken instrument causing her stoney expression to waiver with concern. “Your zither…” Quintessa doesn’t have long to lament over this knowledge before Khitti’s letter is held up for her to see, her lithe fingers snatching it from Kanna’s grasp. “Let me see this…” Her eyes quickly scour over the words held within, her face contorted with rage. “Son of a bitch!” She drops the letter, stands, and punches the gigantic crystal ball before them, an action which accomplishes nothing but hurting her own hand and creating a cluster of crystalline spiderweb fractures across her expensive magical object. Her shaky eyes snap back to Kanna, an insanity held within those mismatched optics. “Any more bad news to inform me of Kanna?” She pivots to face her, all of her wounds reopened and bleeding through her bandages. “Anything else to say to me to make this day worse?”
Kanna winces when Quintessa smashes her good hand against the crystal, and again when she snaps at her. Karasu snatches the letter and reads over its contents as well. “...Yes, I do.” She says meekly. Drawing in a shaky breath, she bears the sin she’s been hiding since her release from Alithyk Caluss’ grasp. “When I was being held captive in the Chaos Realm.” Don’t throw up, she wills herself to think. Already she can feel the proboscis and talons on her flesh again, but she wills it away, instead looking at Quintessa and Karasu. “The creature gave me three options. Continue to be its reminder of Calliope, to make Leralynn its new vessel of the undead… or to come to you to collect on its debts.” Kanna swallows thickly and averts her eyes. “I told it to take you.” Karasu’s expression becomes unreadable as she looks from the letter to Kanna. Kanna weakly adds, “I thought you could do more under his eye, while I help…” Karasu throws one of Larewen's stolen vases, a breakable commodity they are sure to run out of at this rate, and it shatters on the wall directly behind Kanna. The bard gives a soft noise of alarm as the jagged porcelain bounces off her back. "You wanted to HELP?! Are you frakking joking? All you do is destroy everything you touch! You ruined my gods damned life just by existing! If you weren’t here, my father wouldn't have done what he had to me! Dyraxdiin would still be alive! Gods, maybe Odhranos and Daath would still be here too, I can’t know everything you’ve done! Quintessa wouldn't be in this state! If you hadn’t made such a stupid choice, Quintessa wouldn’t have gotten nearly killed by Kasyr, we wouldn’t be up for tribunals from all the Guilds!” Karasu snarls. “If you want to help, just get out of OUR LIVES!" Kanna's lower lip trembles as Karasu's grievances are aired out. Kanna doesn't answer her half-sister, not at first. Instead, she looks to Quintessa to search for a confirmation for any sense of understanding or forgiveness.
Quintessa falls silent when she hears Kanna’s admission. While the bard was captive in the Chaos Realm, Quintessa was on the outside, bargaining with it to take her place at the very same time she was being offered up as a sacrifice. As Karasu flies into a rage, Quintessa falls apart, her bleeding form returning to her seat on the pew, her face falling into her hands. The changeling has no idea what to think about this. Technically they both had the same plan but it still cut deep like a betrayal. Silent tears flow openly from her eyes. She can’t even look at Kanna. Finally Quintessa looks up from her hands, examining the damage done to her crystal ball without even thinking about it at all. “Kanna… I bargained to get you out.” She leans back in the pew, looking up at the domed ceiling. “But at least you did not sacrifice Leralynn too. I should be thankful for that.” Finally her mismatched eyes flicker over to meet Kanna’s gaze, bloodshot and filled with pain. “Nothing more can be gained from you living here with us. You read the letter- you are no longer my student. Perhaps Khitti or Valrae will take you in… either way you must resume your exile. Please do not make me enforce it.”
Kanna holds back a sob as Quintessa reveals what she had done to get her back. Alithyk Caluss had never given them a choice. It had taken sadistic pleasure in giving them the illusion of a choice, knowing they would find out about it. Kanna looks to Quintessa, then to Karasu, then opens the doors to the room wide enough that they can see what she is moving to grab. Karasu steps back, putting her hand on the hilt of her sword as Kanna takes her Minor Book of the Dead from off the foyer's table and opens it. "Try me, bitch." Kanna's normally warm eyes have taken on the chilled tone of a winter sky as she levels a stare. "I'm not going to attack you, Karasu. I’m giving you what you want. Quintessa, having Khitti take me as a student is useless if I cannot get my medium fixed first, and I doubt that’s going to be possible." The book gives an ominous glow under Kanna's hands as she looks Karasu in the eye. "As my final act as Thanadule for the Necromancer's Guild, I bestow upon thee the title of Novus Morior--" Karasu interjects that she does not want a title from her. "--and present you with my copy of the book as a tendering of my resignation, as observed by the restricted Provectus Malus Quintessa. The art I choose to retain knowledge of is poisons." Karasu grits her teeth and snatches the book from Kanna's hands, making the transfer complete. Karasu's entire body is shaking with fury. Why did she ever leave the Mage's Tower in the first place? "Kaaname should have killed you when he had the chance to leave no witnesses. If you ever step foot in here again, I’ll give you his head so he can finish his frakking insane ritual. Get your stuff, and be out of here when I wake up." Those are the foreboding words of the Magister Templi turned necromancer as she storms out to let Quintessa finish her visit. Turning to Quintessa, Kanna smiles sadly. She’s holding back tears, and digging her fingers into her upper arm to keep them from spilling. "I will still be back for the final match, don’t worry; I’ll meet you at the arena…And I'll send a courier when I'm ready to pick up Amante. He seems happy playing with Berrentram, don’t you think…? Oh, that reminds me, please give me your arm, the good one…"
Quintessa seems horrified at what Karasu has said to Kanna, about how Kaaname should have killed her and that Karasu would finish the job herself, but before she can argue with her fiance she has snatched the book and stormed out of the room. Looking back to the bard and former Thanadule, her bottom lip quivers with sadness. She felt like Kanna was her sister, she did not want to see her separate from them like this. They were supposed to be family. This was supposed to last forever. “Thank you, Kanna,” Quintessa can’t hold back the new tidal wave of silent tears that flow down her cheeks, but she manages to hold her voice together. “Berry and Amante are good friends,” she agrees, “We should shield them the best we can from all of this…” She slowly holds up her right arm for her to take, sniffling, trying to keep herself from sobbing. “Don’t listen to Karasu- You didn’t deserve what Kaaname did to you. Nobody does. She just… “ Quintessa shakes her head, “We’re all broken people, Kanna.”
Kanna gently takes Quintessa’s hand, forcing a smile. “I know she is. We were forced to be strong in different ways that broke us, but we’re still just human.” From her coat’s pockets, Kanna withdraws a mass of thorny branches. Carefully, she affixes it to her arm, snug enough to remove if needed. Unlike other floral or fungal creations by the bard, this creation is lacking in vibrant petals and sparkling finishes. The bracer is every bit as imposing as Quintessa is, with a long branch of thorns tinted in a deep red delicately twisted to hold a beautiful bloodstone in place. The bloodstone is a deep opaque green, nearly black in dim light, flecked with spots of red that give it the bloody appearance that gives its name. Imbued with concentrated bardic mana, the bloodstone is always working to draw in excess negative energies and draw poisons and toxins from her blood. The bracer is made so that there are no thorns facing inward towards its wearer, but so that all twenty-six thorns face outwards. The branch has been soaked in dragon’s blood and absorbed into its very structure, rendering the thorns violently poisonous regardless of whether they are struck in close range or if the thorns are plucked and thrown like darts. “If you can still smell the dragon’s blood, it should fade after a night.” Kanna gently touches the tip of a thorn, looking at Quintessa’s one uncovered eye. “Severity. Rigour. The path you’re going down… you already know it won’t end well.” Her finger moves to the bloodstone. “So that the weight in your heart might be drawn out, for I know you still have a heart, and there is something beautiful inside it that everyone will see when...” She knows she cannot say it aloud, but Quintessa knows. She is going to fix this. Kanna smiles, letting the tears flow. “I’ll miss being a necromancer with you, Quintessa.” Kanna kneels on the floor, putting the broken musical instrument back together again so that she can take it with her when she leaves Castle Blackwell for the last time.