Constance’s Friday night odd encounter(Chara)
Date: 2025-06-20 00:16
(Constance’s Friday night odd encounter(Chara):Chara)
[Fri Jun 20 2025]
In the grim cellar of the Lodge of the Mistwalkers/span
It is about 55F(12C) degrees. The mist is heaviest At High and Rosewood/span
Constance is currently hiding in the cellar of the Mistwalker’s lodge with a shotgun, prepared to murder any Orderrite that walks in.
(Your target is possessed by an angry spirit that is forcing them to act out and putting themselves and/or others at risk. They must either defeat it or find a way to calm it down.
)
The cellars air abruptly shifts, a frigid wave rolling through the cramped space and plunging the temperature by twenty degrees. Breath becomes visible in tight plumes as condensation beads on the shotguns metal and the wooden beams overhead. The lights flicker briefly almost failing but remain on for the moment.
Constance tenses up, pointing the barrel of her shotgun at the trapdoor that goes up into the lodge proper. “Come on, I’m bored,” she mutters. “Gimme someone to fuck up.”
The shotgun barrel catches the flickering light, aimed at the trapdoor above, condensation trembling along its metal surface. A faint scrape echoes from not beyond the hatch. But from within the attic. Footsteps sound out from above, sending dust down into the attic. But one spot in the corner out of Constance’s eye can see the dust just starting to… hover in thin air. As if touching something.
Constance whirls on it, assuming it’s an invisible wizard or some other form of mancing, and fires off a shell at it. “Got you, bitch!”
The shotgun blast thunders in the confined space, wood splintering as pellets tear through the hovering dust, sending wood chunks flying. In the disturbed mist, a wavering silhouette flickers into viewan indistinct form outlined by the debris The impact reverberates through the beams overhead, rattling condensation droplets into sharp drips. For a moment, the cellar holds only the echo of that roar, then the air quivers as if something unseen recoils from the strike, shadows at the edges come alive as the silhouette rapidly approaches stretching toward Connie.
Constance dives out of the way with her supernatural reflexes, reloading the barrel. “Get some, motherfucker. What, you a spook?”
the air seems tense as the silhouette freezes at the blast. The form shimmers as the room seems to get colder by the second. A voice hissing out as it stays in the middle. A flickering visage of an older man appearing “You seem to be a hard one to grab.. dont make this harder on yourself girlie.” the figure starts to advance this time. Albeit slower than its previous speed.
Constance rolls her eyes. “Oh, you actually ARE a fucking spook,” she scowls. “I’m Conclave. You don’t want to fuck with me.” She lifts her Petrine cross from her cleavage, threatening the ghost. “I will banish you so fucking hard that your descendants will die of heart attacks.”, she grievously warns.
the ghost halts in its place, tilting its head with curiosity “Conclave…? I don’t know the name.” but nonetheless narrows its eyes at the cross. It seems to drift forward a bit before stopping… hesitant. Before it decides to lunge forward again, reaching its arms out Constance yelling out a “COME’ERE!”
Constance steps forward and pulses her life force out in a blinding, unholy flash to banish the spectre.
the ghost jerks back at the light, covering his face with his see-through hands. Like its going to help much. Letting out a hissing sound. Giving out a begging “S-stop that!” as it tries to drift towards Constance again but each pulse seems to start sending it into the ground.
Constance snarls, “I warned you, motherfucker. The power compels you. Get the fuck away from me! You’re not going to be able to find an easier target if you’re fucking RE-DEAD!” She holds up the cross and advanced with it as a weapon.
growls as it starts to back away, scrambling towards the hatch with its knees now submerged inside the floor of the cellar. The cold of the cellar starting to fade as the ghost struggles to get to the cellar, starting to get waist-high into the floor, its visage getting dimmer as it starts to slowly shamble up the stairs “I-I dont want to die. They need me…”
Constance states, viciously, “Then beg. Beg me.” as she continues approaching. “Worm.”
grimaces as Constance gets closer. It doesn’t have much space to manuever away. Seemingly getting harder for it to move. Its eyes no longer fierce or angry. But just scared as it realizes what could happen to it. It takes a moment but it spits out a “Please! Dont do this. I was just trying to live again! I wasn’t going to hurt you! Please dont!”
Constance stops the banishing ritual, smiling at the spirit’s subjective, as it begs for its unlife before her. “Go along and find someone weak,” she snarls. “Don’t let me catch you bothering me again.”
the ghost gives a relived look as it manages to slowly get itself unstuck from the cellar floor “Thank you! Thank you! Of course! Never again!” it says frantically as it now starts to rapidly escape up the stairs. its outline getting fainter as it phases through the door. Disappearing.