Ruin
Armor worn by the jailer's creation, the Ruin Sentinel.
The Sentinel has no form, its soul residing within the armor itself. Stare at it for long and it seems ready to spring to life, but surely, such is an illusion.
The jailer grabbed the stone around the edges and pulled it out of the hole in the wall, and on the other side of the room a passageway vanished.
"There goes those blathering cretins," he said, pocketing the lockstone. "I can tolerate the ringing bells, but damn, but those creatures with their incessant rants are far too irritating."
"This place is crumbling apart," said a guard next to him. "Honestly, one more big storm, and this whole place could be swallowed up but the ocean." He sniffed. "Wouldn't surprise me in the least, place is probably older than the castle, hell, it's been here since before we came to this land."
"We need a place to hold the undead for now," the jailer said, turning away and climbing up the ladder to the common area. The guard followed closely behind him.
"Is that going to be the solution to this whole mess?" the guard asked, sitting down at one of the tables. "Round up the undead, stick 'em in here and forget about them?" He gave a slight shake to his head. "I mean, it'll clean up the kingdom for a bit, but what about down the line? Unlike you, I have children and I worry about what you're going to leave behind for them,"
"I wouldn't worry about what we leave behind for your children," the jailer said, standing two heads taller than the guard. "This place will be used to house the undead, yes, but here we will also do research on them, discover why and how they come to being in the first place, and I have no doubts that this project will be a very long-term one indeed." Walking over to the other end of the room, on a table was a Bell Keeper, dissembled. "I'm afraid we may not be able to keep guards here full time because of that, but thankfully it seems like past kingdoms have left behind tools to for use to use."
"What are you talking about?" the guard asked, leaning forward slightly in his seat.
The jailer did not answer, instead he looked down the table, past the Bell Keeper, and to a helmet. It was old, a single, empty suit found in a corner of the bell tower, surrounded by raving manic dwarfs. "The soul is a strange thing, is it not? Those Bell Keepers are not alive, yet they seem to be sentient, albeit unhinged." He grabbed the helm and raised it up. It was tall and slender, coppery in color. "I wonder if that same application can be replicated in any degree?"
The guard looked at the man, curiously, as he began to silently mutter to himself as he took out a scroll and began to write down notes. The king's brother was certainly an off man.