Friday, September 21, 2012

Tales from the Host Tower of the Arcane 2

Beyond his reflection in the window, the man in a white cassock regarded the turbulent weather outside the Host Tower. Outside over Luskan the sky darkened with boiling clouds, thunder rose to a steady roll, and lightning crisscrossed the sky in spidery motifs. In the streets merchants hurried to cover their stalls as dozens of other morning shoppers as well as men going to work each scrambled to find shelter.

To the white-clad sorcerer’s left, beyond the reflection in the glass, was a woman of such stunning beauty that she rarely left the tower lest whole nations fall into war over her favor. Her skills and true purpose was used with tactical restraint.

Pointing out a strange rise in the tide, she wondered what interested Karlott, the ageless one, about the weather; then from the east a sudden upsurge from the River Mirar, exacerbated by the risen ocean tide washes away the Caravan Street Bridge right before her deep cold eyes. She gave a sudden start, a reaction Karlott did not like in the least but it did not remove the small subtle smile from his pallid face.

Within the Host Tower a silent alarm was employed causing every lamp and mote of light to turn a deep green hue indicating a local weather emergency. The change in the quality of light caused Karlott’s reflection to disappear giving the audience of two a better look down on Luskan despite the hair-thin green light now around each of the tower’s outer doors and window casings.

The River Mirar continued to swell washing the debris from the CSB down river and into Luskan’s Lover’s Walk, the central bridge. That too, was destroyed in large chunks of stone and mortar by the rising strength of the river. The two watched in silence as one by one the River Mirar washed away the bridges and viaducts joining many Luskan’s districts together.  

“It would seem that the gods of Fury have become restless and unruly high on their mountain city; pack your things dear-heart.” Karlott said as he turned to Kyrrolla, her long fangs protruding hungrily from anxious willing lips.

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