Undercity RP

[The Butler]

After the Battle for the Undercity, following the preparations for Batibat's coronation as Queen of the Undercity, Vara the Dark Lurker records the following tale by order of the Black Knight

[The Butler]

Batibat's Black Knight leaves the Temple of the Undercity, in the eve of its destruction at the hands of the Flaming Fist.

[Ashenie]

Prayers in the Ruined Church

In the ruins of the Undercity, quiet steps are followed by the brushing sounds of rags in the dust. Soft notes of a tender lullaby keeps rocking the undying, faint presence. A silhouette disappears in the old Temple of the Lord of Murder. Words whispered, for the living and the dead, and those stuck in between, echoe among the rubbles and the broken stones of the former Temple. Where once blood flowed, flowers now grow, tenderly tended. A candle provides a faint light in the darkness, cleansing the overwhelming shadows that were left behind.

[Ashenie]

"Murder Rended, Mercy Mended"

Accomplishment, Discovery, Planning	Hope, Positivity, Rejuvenation	Breakthrough, Concentration, Intensity

"I know Death usually holds memories."
Murder Rended... Mercy Mended... , Saint Merielle Silene, The Living Saint

In the quiet tombs of Bhaal, rags brush the floor once more. The deserted, desolated area that once was bathed in blood and agony was now emptied from its suffering, only tended by beams of soothing lights from the ceiling. Life begun to bloom anew, and even in the atmosphere, something peaceful lingered, even after all these months.

The quiet Sister came, unguarded. Shrouds and shields were away, and only coated in dust and rags, she approached the fractured symbol of Murder, where angelicas seems to have taken hold. While her banded hands tended to the gentle blossoms, her attention embraced the Temple. Soon, a candle to light the darkness added to the soothing beams coming from above. A book open : "Murder Rended, Mercy Mended", and she begun to read a few lines of the scriptures, as if she was sharing a new stories to invisible children nearby.

A stick of incense spread a light smoke in the damaged temple. In the mists, half formed shapes could be imagined, for who kept a child-like spirit. In quiet contemplation, she begun to speak. Words of care, quiet and tender, to those who are no more in material shape. Ser Alexander Holgart, the Guardian Thedran Asen, Ser Simon Sainteclair among those names that seem to compose a myriad of smoky shields drawn from the mists. As if they were nearby, sitting and listening, she spoke again, reclused in a world of illusions. Her smile, unfading, seemed to show the care she still vowed them. For each, a long prayer spoken. For each, a request left between their otherworldy hands. "Upon the wings of Hope, words can fly. May them reach where you stand still firm, may they pave the path we have to walk together again."


" Duty continues for some, and others rest peacefully in the arms of their gods. "
Murder Rended... Mercy Mended... , Saint Merielle Silene, The Living Saint

Duty had a strange path drawn before her. And before the smoky assembly of unfading memories, she places her cracked locket against her heart. For each of their deeds, for each of their sacrifices, another prayer is spoken. Light and warm, the soothing words comforted their determination. They had no tears to shed, nor to dry, and no resentment left behind.

But in the quiet echo of her own prayers, no vocal answer came. And once more, she thanked the Seven Heavens, renewing the vows and promises that kept her soul entwined with the purpose of others. Far beyond sight, and so close to the living, not really gone, and yet ascended to another life, they were still there, she believed. For she cherished the new purpose given to them, a prayer for a new light to shine echoed once more, and faded as it came. "Shields of the Heavenly defenders : wall of light where darkness cannot reach".



" I pray they remember the strength of faith, and the value of things beyond the physical world. I pray they remember those who have kept me standing, that I may complete my duty. For without these, my cause… Billy… and all hope might have been lost. "
Murder Rended... Mercy Mended... , Saint Merielle Silene, The Living Saint

In the dance of incenses, words seal determination anew. What was purified here still damages elsewhere. What was set to peace has left poison and blood to soak the lands. Another step, another wish, but a cause that unites, and echoes with so many in the near past. One step ahead, and one step behind, all that is left is a promise, commitment of the soul to the undoing of Murder : Mercy Mends. "Let Faith seal the path of the Enduring, where Life struggles and dies, where Mercy shall come and grace".

[The Butler]

In the ruins of the Undercity...

A deep voice begins to echoe throughout the Undercity's broken ruins, which are otherwise shrouded in complete silence and darkness:

"Billy..."

"William."

"Uilleam!"


The voice continues to drone on in a manner resembling the recitation of a poem or prophecy:




Finally, the voice ends. Then a shape begins to stir in the farthest and darkest corner of the Undercity.
Rubble collapses with a rumble, its cloud of dust is followed by an armoured hand extending - reaching out through broken crevice...




All this is followed by an otherworldly lamenting wail that may be best described as 'agonising' and 'tormented' - and yet... eerily human.

[Ashenie]

"Murder Rended, Mercy Mended"

Achievement, Collaboration, Selflessness	Patience, Result, Review

"This mark, it is not a finality."
Ilmater, as told in Murder Rended... Mercy Mended... , Saint Merielle Silene, The Living Saint

In the ruins of the former Temple, two silhouettes repell the darkness with a latern. A knight and a priestess, undisturbed by the former threats that fell silent in the womb of Murder. While the celebrations of Midsummer kept cheering joy under the sun, the quiet endeavor of unity bound Faith to commitment upon the shattered dais, broken symbol of Murder now bathed in holy light. "Nothing remains after the light... from above, when it.. cracked the stones.."


" Let mercy guide your steps. "
Ilmater, as told in Murder Rended... Mercy Mended... , Saint Merielle Silene, The Living Saint

Under the broken ceiling in which the dragment of holy light still pierced, the stones were uncovered from the ruins. Fragments of cracked agony assembled together, around the light provided by a painted candle. Under the chant of Mercy to the Triad and the Celestial Hebdomad, the quiet endeavor procceeded to the marking. Each stone that one stood in support of Murder now bore the runes and signs of the upper planes, remain of the purification that once stood place. Each marked with an intention, each vowed to a purpose, a virtue, for what remains of Murder can be undone, and the harm mended, or so was it spoken. Finally, after words of prayers, and echoes of oaths spoken in reverence, the two silhouette gathered the painted, dried stones. One step at a time, the next would lead where He lingers, or so it is said. "And for Mercy is to mend, allow this endeavor to unite... with the guiding stars of Celestia. Wards of the Triad, Weeping Rains, heroes and saints...".

[Ashenie]

---

As the Autumnal Equinox wraps Faerûn in golden and orange splendor, a quiet flame flickers in the shadowed underbelly of Baldur's Gate, untamed by the encroaching darkness. Where undead and murder were once cleansed by the Light of the Heavens, the remains of the cruelest murders committed by the Ironclad Mercenaries have been brought, or so the rumors whisper, by a hooded Sister of Ilmater. Consecrated in peace and washed in holy water, it is said that none of the dead were left unattended. Among the Ilmatari, it said that Saint Merielle Silene was honored in the procession.

In the ruins of the sanctuary, where many once wept and suffered, agony has turned into a plea for rest. Devoted to purifying the place, the lone Sister prayed for hours, or so the rumors say. For all who suffer and have suffered, for the dead and the living, for those who endure and their loved ones : none forgotten, none forsaken, none left to the relentless grip of Murder and Madness. For, as each time Murder rended, Mercy always mends.