Living Dead Girl

Log Info

• Title: Living Dead Girl
• Emitter: Verna
• Characters: Verna, Cryosanthia, Faranmidahn, Auranar
• Place: A15: Vardaman Temple
• Time: Tuesday, May 05, 2020, 5:49 PM
• Summary: Mourner Verna has prepared herself to make the effort of bringin Auranar back to life. Cryosanthia and Faranmidah, feeling very responsible for her death, are present to help out. The group teleports to where they last saw the wild elf and the demon, and recover her corpse, teleporting back to the Temple of Vardaman. Auaran's remains are placed in a vault and Verna performs the ceremony to bring her back, then to restore her. It is successful and Auranar awakens, confused at what happened. The method of her death, being killed to prevent Eclavdran from taking her to Hell, is explained. Cryo and Faran apologize deeply, and Faran has an emotional upwelling. The sith, with all her memories of the Tower, is a lot harder to move emotionally, though she feels a strong guilt as well. The apologies are accepted and Auranar is grateful and forgives everyone, and says the thing she wants the most as a re-birth present, is a bath.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=<* A15: Vardaman Temple *>=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

The Vardamite temple is a solemn affair. Composed of carved blocks of basalt, it looks as if the whole thing were set into a scooped-out chunk of the mountain. Braziers and torches, despite the presence of more modern conveniences, are the main source of light. The basalt columns and blocks are engraved with prayers for the dead from hundreds of cultures and dozens of races. Some are works of master carvers, still others are little more than the work of desperate or sorrowful petitioners, quick prayers lovingly scratched into an empty space.

An outdoor altar is littered with offerings, as are the steps and even ground surrounding the front of the temple. These offerings are frequently collected or cleaned away by serious-faced Mourners, or Mourner-acolytes, while Serriel's Lancers guard the front doors. As ever, the sound of monks in perpetual chant can be heard as a low background noise as they go about their somber business.

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-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-  Appearing, in Order  -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Auranar      4'8"     123 Lb     Wild Elf          Female    A wild elf with dark skin and a red dress
Cryosanthia  6'9"     267 Lb     Sith-Makar        Female    A dashingly tall, elegant white-scaled lizard woman.
Faranmidahn  3'3"     35 Lb      Halfling          Female    Albino Lucht woman in black leather armor with a BIG spider
Verna        4'5"     98 Lb      Half-Elf          Female    Petite humanoid in bulky gray robes and cloak.
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Some time has passed since the ... incident at the pristine pond that Auranar had led the quartet of scriers to. Long enough to return to the city, for those who chose to. While one was left behind, she was hardly forgotten, and Verna seeks out the others. She intends to return to the scene and offers invitation to Faranmidahn and Cryosanthia to join her, if they wish. It seems only proper.

It is Verna's hope that Auranar was not taken, the interest in her lost once no more torment could be inflicted upon her. She also hopes that their visitor did not linger for the same reason, but she is more prepared this time. They will be arriving directly, via teleportation, and she is prepared to immediately return them in the same fashion. No further risks, should they arrive to company.

So, with a sudden distortion and rapidly displaced air, all arrive near the pool in the wilds.

Cryosanthia accepts the invitation to the retrieval. She was some time in returning to Alexandria, executing an unncessarily long and intricate retreat anticipating that Eclavdran rose to her taunt. He didn't, and her evasive efforts were wasted and resulted in a very indirect return. She had little sleep, guilt and nightmares frequently waking her.

As the shimmering shift of scene and lurch in the stomach signal her arrival back at the pond, she drops into a reach crouch, scanning and scenting the treeline, searching for traces of the Demon in Human form. Her gaze avoids Auranar's corpse; this was her fault. Another friend she's lead into death. One of her oldest habits and one she wishes she could break.

Faranmidahn doesn't have.... She has to bring Aura back, if possible. What mild relief could have come from Cryo's revelation was ground away, guilt and shame doubled down in the aftermath of the encounter with Eclavdran. After withdrawing, albeit with an intent to capitalize on an opening that, tragically never came, she may as well have turned her back entirely for all the help she afforded another of her friends. She hasn't slept since making her way back, though she's swapped out her armor for her training set, and the rose broach left at home with her father's blade, where she can disgrace them no further. A hand rests on the hilt of her sword, intent to draw to protect her friends if the need comes to pass... though wondering if perhaps she should just take a taste of it herself and spare her dearest more disappointment.

Verna remains in place upon their arrival as she joins all in surveying their surroundings, hands hovering near the flanking friends to either side. Friends? Allies, certainly. Sisters in battle? She would deem so, even if what transpired was not much of a battle.

The sight of the fallen Auranar is, in fact, a great comfort, despite the fact that Verna is responsible for her fall. When no others seem apparent nor hinted at, she states, "It seems clear. Let us go. Quickly." She starts off briskly for the fallen.

"All right," the palescale sith moves with the Mourner, carrying a black blanket that she unrolls beside Auranar's corpse. The sith has seen plenty of bodies, many in conditions worse than her friend's whose is perfect aside from the purple blotches surrounding her throat. Crouched, Cryo is still looking around, as if this is another ambush waiting to happen. Her voice is grim, "Ready, to Roll and Roll. Command us please."

Invoking her magic detection spell, and keeping as close an eye on Cryo's hand as she is the wilderness around them, Faran moves to assist with seeing to... to poor Aura's body. She draws her lower lip under her teeth as she takes a knee near the fallen elf's feet, and is forced by the lay of things to take her hand from the hilt of her sword to help move her into place. LIke her sister, she awaits the Mourner's command, though she still glances about, focusing on the danger to keep the.... rest from dragging her into the abyss she may not come out of again.

Verna takes a quick knee at Auranar's shoulders, opposite the blanket from her. She reaches over to grab the far shoulder. "One hip, one feet," she advises the other two succinctly. Once all are good, a curt "Ready. And. Flip." It is likely not as solemn nor ritualistic as one might expect, but Verna treats this as a hazard recovery. There shall be more than enough time for ritual and solemnity later. Perhaps sooner would be a more proper term, as the moment the body is upon the blanket, she incants again to take all four of them to Her Lady's Hall. The material one in Alexandria, that is.

Cryo does as instructed, dropping and helping roll Auranar. There's the shimmer and lurch, and then the safe, unfamiliar surroundings. The sith exhales, stepping back. "Okay. Good."

Faranmidahn moves Aura's feet on Verna's word and, as soon as the incantation begins, she looks furtively about, like a second story man after a roof tile hits the pavement. The trip itself show such wonderous light to her eyes, but the rematerialization in the temple does little to encourage her to relax, just yet. Kol attacked the Temple of Daeus, she isn't sure Eclavdran would be shy about hitting the Temple of Vardama.

There have been far too many attacks here for Verna's taste; not that she feels compelled to announce this to those present. "A vault is prepared. Ahead and to the right." She relocates to Faranmidahn's vicinity, as a better distribution of the burden between the three of them. Perhaps wisely, she selected one quite near their arrival.

The vault (cell in some temples, room in others) is a spartan, stark affair like the rest of the temple. Basalt block walls, a cot, a pair of chairs, chamber pot, and a diminutive desk/table.

Cryosanthia quietly carries Auranar, watching Verna and Faran. The small knight gets most of her attention, the sith can tell her sister is taking this hard. The confrontations have been a constant strain, a tightness, never allowing one fully to react and requiring too much compromise. Her guilt at running is bothering her too, but there's so much other guilt to stack it with, it's another block, another ice flow around the icebergs. She lets the winter winds blow through her and takes some solace in the coolness of the vault they arrive at. Once Auranar is laid out, the sith moves to stand behind one of the chairs.

Faranmidahn holds on as best she can, while yielding some of the load to Verna, responding to her navigational remarks with a soft, "Yes." Her eyes still shine their pink light as she moves, glancing about, glancing at Cryo, hoping to avoid another unpleasant surprise.

The difficult and dangerous portion, so far as Verna is concerned, is complete. "Thank you. Please, sit." She gestures to the stools with the invitation. She turns her attention then, to Auranar, politely moving her limbs to a 'comfortable,' and dignified arrangement.

"I will now bid her to return; beseech The Dread lady that it is not yet her time to be judged. I can only request. Whether she chooses to or is able is a matter between them." Verna retrieves a moderate black velvet pouch from her robes, retrieving a candle and a second, smaller pouch from it. The candle is set upon the desk and lit. The second pouch is carefully openened so that she can pour sparkling transparent dust into he palm. This is slowly drizzled upon, or used to annoint Auranar as she begins to incant.

"Is there anything we should do?" Cryosanthia asks, watching as the dust is sprinkled. "To let her know her friends are here, it's safe and we welcome her to come back? To pray? I could ... sing, if that's something the Lady Greyscales would appreciate. Or just wait."

The sith slips down to sit on the stool, her tail switching behind her. She keeps her hands together, watching. Waiting. Faranmidahn, still bleak, is compliant with Verna's request to sit, though she yet holds her incantation as anxiety and dread bob and rolls atop a churning brew of guilt and grief.

Verna turns to Cryosanthia's question. Though she does not abort her words nor gestures, she offers a slender smile (she is still rusty at it) and a deep, deliberate nod.

GAME: Verna casts Raise Dead. Caster Level: 15 DC: 20

It's not a subtle thing, Auranar's body returning to life. One minute the body is laying there inert and then the next a great gasp of air shudders through the elf's slender form and she's opening her dark eyes only to curl onto her side. She looks... well horrible. Her skin is still pale with death, her eyes pained and her hair a mess from being tossed about. Livid black bruises stain her throat in a ring and she looks at you with blank confusion. It seems all she can do to just lay there, her body trembling as if it takes all her strength to just exist in this moment.

Cryosanthia thinks. She needs a song, something sombre but not too much like a funeral dirge, not too loud. Light and hopeful without being too energetic. She had a song about Spring's approach, which would have been great, but that's gone. One about the dawn then, the first rays of light splitting the darkness, the cool of the night fading away, the bird's rising song.

The sith starts to sing, a piece in sylvan and managing the words well even though her throat isn't suited for it. She can sound like a bird, if she warbles just right, and little chirps are dispersed throughout it. Her tail scrapes quietly on the floor, adding a rhythm that sounds like shifting sands or rainsticks.

Faranmidahn watches the weave of Verna's spell, amidst Cryosanthia's song, the words trying to nibble at the black funk ruling the Lucht's heart, seeing the grace of Vardama restoring life and soul to Auranar and leaps to her feet, losing her spell focus as the elfmaid(en?) draws in her first desperate breath and is swiftly beside her, "Aura!" she cries, reaching uncertainly toward her, "Sssshhhh! It's alright, It's Faran, you're in the Temple, you're safe, now!"

"Rest easy," Verna finally speaks as Auranar inhales. She is not surprised by the appearance, as, "the return journey is an arduous one. You are very weak. With The Harpist's blessing, I shall restore some of your strength..." She does not interfere with Faranmidahn, nor discourage her rush. More of the dust in her hand is loosed to sprinkle across Auranar as she incants and gestures anew before resting a hand on her leg.

GAME: Verna casts Restoration. Caster Level: 15 DC: 19

The elf blinks at Faran, her eyes tightening. There's a flicker of fear in Auranar's gaze that doesn't quite belong, but Verna's spell strengthens her somewhat. Eases some of the exhaustion that keeps her pinned to the bed. Not that she looks /that/ much better in truth. "R-..." Her voice is raspy, and she has to clear her throat a few times before she can finally speak. "Return journey?" Her eyes flicker around the room worriedly then back to Faran. "How did we get here?"

Cryosanthia keeps up her song, as much to welcome Auranar back and provide some warmth to the cold walls as it is thanks to the Death Singing Dragon that she's returned her friend. Her words get lighter in tone, the sith sings of the vibrancy of the sky and colours, the sparkling dew, animals awakening and eyes opening, cold and shadows chased away. New light, new life, a new day. She brings it to a close and rises, approaching the wild elf. She smiles as warmly as she can, reaching out to lay a hand on her shoulder, "Welcome again, Auranar. This one is sorry. Please forgive me, for the situation I caused, and for... listening when you begged me to run, and running, and leaving you behind."

Faranmidahn all but crumbles at Auranar's question and she sinks to her knees, head hung, "I'm.... I'm sorry...!" she says miserably. A sniffle and, "I drew back.. I thought he'd drop you to go after Cryo...! I was... I couldn't.... " her words growing weaker, more taut with anguish with every syllable. Droplets fall from behind her hair.

Only now does Verna step around to Aurnar's facing, behind Faranmidahn and adjacent to Cryosanthia. She had perhaps dared to consider words for this occassion, but the other two are far more familiar. They are also ... exceptionally sorry. She places a hand to each, in the hopes to still them both, though her eyes are on Auranar. "I believe what they both mean to say is... that we are all very pleased that you are awake."

Auranar blinks at Cryosanthia, shaking her head only to wince at the pain that it sends through her neck. "Of course I forgive you. I wanted you to run. I'm glad... Oh, Faran..." She touches the lucht on the top of her head and pets her gently. "It's okay. We're all okay." She smiles a soft smile, but honestly feels like she's missing something here.

"Thank you Auranar, deeply." Cryosanthia bows her head, exhales a long breath of cool air. She attemps a small smile, "It's a new hatching day for you. I am so glad you came back. The demon, wouldn't let go. He appeared to take, there was no bargaining, no stopping. I had hoped She sent him, to chase me, it seems not the case. You remember I left, do you remember what happened after?" The sith looks at Faran, then Verna, searching for an expression telling her to stop, leaving it open for them to speak some more.

Faranmidahn clams up at the touch, though the... translation by Verna is undercut by the lucht sniffling, bunches of lace caught up in the knotted, white knuckled fists at her knees. She doesn't trust herself to speak further as Cryo takes over the explaination. Long distance to Faranmidahn: Cryosanthia nods, "I like clean slate, also maybe a bigger brand, back? front?"

Verna doesn't intervene to stop either, though she does add to Cryosanthia's words. "What do you recall? I will fill any gaps, as best as I am able." She realizes the the three are closer. She, herself, was present only to aid and advise, so she will take up that mantle again. Verna is, due to her station, rather practiced at delivering news, the majority of which is unpleasant.

Auranar looks vaguely embarassed now, but she doesn't remove her hand from Faran's head, wanting to comfort the other woman. "I... He asked me to go to Hell with him and I shook my head and then... I remember that it got very hard to see. I..." She lifts her free hand to her throat, clearly vividly remembering how difficult it had been to breathe. She shakes her head. "Then... it's like I was dreaming? I don't really remember anything after that but... I feel like I had a really peaceful dream and then I was waking up here with you guys."

The elf pets Faran's head again gently, seeming to use the tactile sensation to center herself. "I thought for a few seconds there that I was waking up... somewhere else, but this feels too real to all be an illusion of some kind." Auranar looks up from her hand petting Faran's head and looks at her friends. "Did something else happen after I passed out?"

Cryosanthia moves her hands so they rest on the edge of the slab. She's crouched a little, so she isn't gazing down on Auranar quite as much. Her eyes are expressionless, her pupils thin slits, her words carefully chosen and there is a long hesitation before she speaks. "The Demon wouldn't release you. He kept holding you by your throat. To deny him, to save you from what he might do, Verna sent you on, beyond his reach."

A pause, "You died. You were in the Death Singing Dragons' careful embrace. The Demon had no interest in your body, left it. Verna asked nicely and she sent you back. This one is glad it was peaceful."

Faranmidahn pages: or... I don't think the tattoo is a specific design, it could just suddenly manifest within her brand mark. she was branded by an enemy, but it's also been taken up as a representation of her life. Love, life, death, pain in one place. But I could still take the red scale angle, maybe make the scales rough compared to the smooth silver.

Verna was prepared to explain the events and her part of it, but Cryosanthia summarizes this quite well. Perhaps that is for the best. She nods and confirms with "Yes." A pause follows as she considers other words in place of those expected. "... The fog obscured our withdraw, as well..."

Faranmidahn shrinks a little into herself as the ladies elaborate on how Auranar's encounter with Eclavdran seemed from the outside. After a time, as Auranar's hand stops on her head, her hands lift to gently enclose them and her head comes up, though she can't bring herself to look into the elf's face, and, while her lips part to form words, she can find none to parse through them.

Auranar blinks at the news and then blinks again, her hand twitching in Faran's hands. "Ah... That... that makes sense." She looks down and manages a small smile for the lucht. "I'm glad you guys got away." It's gently said but it's clear she means it. She blinks and there's tears in her eyes but she manages to keep them at bay. "I'm so glad."

One thing is readily apparent to Cryosanthia, the wild elf had been lying on the ground all night, dead, and cleaning her body wasn't something they did during the retrieval or after. While the lingering whisps of the cloudkill might have kept bugs away for a little while, they had time to get in the wild elf's clothes, ears and nose, probably more nature than she's comfortable with. The sith raises her hands and gestures, her gloves glow faintly and she makes cleaning motions towards Auranar. She smiles very widely, "I was thinking, you might want a bath, some new clothes, celebratory wake-the-dead break-fast?"

The Lucht is too... well, she just too far down other roads to worry about the hygenic aspects of Auranar's... rest. The smile, and the elf's words unlatch whatever metaphysical tether was keeping Faran on her knees, as she suddenly lunges into a fervent, full-bodied hug with an inarticulate cry as though she were a spring kept under load.

"Forgive me," Verna asks of Auranar as Cryosanthia reminds her of Auranar's ... disheveled condition. "It is customary to clean our guests, regardless of how long they are expected to remain." Quite the gathering of polite euphemisms in that one sentence. "I overlooked doing so, in your case. Would you care for some water? To wash or to drink?" Verna may well be accustomed more at receiving the longer term guests, where conversation is far less expected.

Auranar gathers Faran into her arms, tears spilling down her cheeks as if the lucht's emotions set free her own. She whispers something feverently into the other woman's ear, hugging her tightly and then looking up at the other two women. "Yes, yes. All of that yes." Her voice is still raspy, but she lets out a little hollow laugh and squeezes Faran. Coughs and looks down at the lucht, pets her endlessly with fingers far more used to the use of a pen than the bow she'd carried the other day. "But a bath first. I'd like that very much."

Cryosanthia watches, cold and bright, standing nearby, happy to let Auranar embrace Faran as their emotions free themselves. Her own are ... complex. She is overjoyed that Auranar is back and well, but those feelings are shadowed by her worry for her cihuaa, the failure to make progress. She's pushing them back, so she only feels the good ones but she has to concentrate and it leaves her silent and still. "Baths are great. I'm glad you're ok Auranar. You're a wonderful friend."

Faranmidahn swallows her head and squeezes Aura, "My sword.... nothing I had would have hurt him, the only thing I could have..." she stops, choking back the end of that thought, then sniffs, "...I'm... I'm glad the Grey Lady let you come back..." She still has no idea how she'll make this right, but, for now her new friend is alive and she will hold onto that for now. She looks at Cryo, at Verna and her hand lifts from the elf to beckon them in.

"I will return shortly," Verna nods to Auranar and excuses herself. She turns and begins to step away when the lucht beckons... so she turns back and moves to Faranmidahn. "What can I do for you?"

"I know. I know." Auranar rushes to reassure Faran, shaking her head. "I felt so... so useless against him." She shudders in memory and looks up as the lucht beckons the others to draw in; embarassment flashing across her face. "Oh! They don't want to hug me like this Faran! I'm all covered in dirt and... gods know what else."

Cryosanthia moves in, hugging Auranar and Faran. She's strong and solid, only a little on the cool side. She lays her head across the two of them, grinning, "We all did, You covered our retreat excellently! We shall get you cleaned up, don't worry!"

Faranmidahn blinks up at Verna at her question, perplexed as to why it even was one, though she fidgets a little bit with Aura's perfectly reasonable forgiveness of the other's lack of immediate... outpouring. She hasn't peopled this way a lot before the last month or so, so she's.... sometimes lacking in nuance.

Verna deals with people every day. A fair number in fact. However, as they are deceased, there is very little bi-directional interaction. She presumed that Faranmidahn desired something and wished to note it before Verna went to fetch items. Now, the other three are embracing.

To contribute in some fashion, she extends a gloved hand towards Aurana in offer for shaking. This seems to prompt her to include, "Sage Mourner Verna. It is a pleasure." They did not have a prior proper introduction. After risking, slaying, raising, restoring, and now tending the other woman... it seems prudent, if perhaps somewhat tardy.

It seems that her concerns about being far from huggable are a little unnecessary, at least to Faran and Cryosanthia. Auranar lets out a little amused noise, wiggling her hand out to shake Verna's. "Auranar. And..." She hesitates here, seemingly uncertain what to say to the other woman suddenly. She smiles a faint smile and takes her hand back after a moment. "Thanks."

Cryo continues the hug, holding on tight to her friends, very glad. She adds with a grin, "This one is Cryosanthia, peace on your nest." Since maybe introductions should be made again for someone who comes back. The sith nuzzles Auranar with her chin, bows her head towards Verna, "Thank you also, for everything." A cold hand rubs Faran's back, pulling her close in the embrace.

Faranmidahn seems to feel a little better as Verna joins in, in what seems to be her way, and rests her chin on Aura's shoulder as Cryo joins into the embrace. She's glad the woman was able to return, though she shouldn't have gone in the first place. She's too good a soul to have endured what she has, and Faran fervently hopes she doesn't suffer any more. The relative angles make things awkward, but one of her hands lifts, bent up from the knot of women at the elbow, "Faranmidahn... but... Faran works, too, thank you Verna... thank you so much, for everything... for everyone."

"You are all most welcome," Verna returns the nods. "I am pleased to have assisted, though regret that we were not more successful, overall. I do not, however, regret this outcome, with all possibilities considered."

Verna looks to Auranar specifically to add, "You are welcome to remain here as long as is necessary. It will take some days for you to regain your full strength, and I would recommend another restoration in a week's time." A brief pause as she looks to see if there might be further beckons, hidden hugs, or other surprise gestures of fellowship. When there appear to be none incoming, she exuses herself, "I will return shortly with your water."

Auranar smiles at Verna nodding to her and smoothing her fingers over Faran's head. "You heard her. Off you guys go now. I need a bath something feirce." She withdraws from the embrace of the sith-makar and the lucht with just a touch of regret but playfully shoos the pair off. "Go on. I'll be along after I've had a chance to change into something cleaner." The elf isn't to be diswayed from her course now that it's in sight.