Patrollogs
Eliass Ghost Banishing 241102
On a stormy dusk at Arkwright Cemetery, a visceral confrontation unfolds against a trio of spectral pirates, each adorned in a macabre mixture of ballroom and pirate attire. Elias, at the heart of this turmoil, draws upon the arcane, constructing a circle of rune stones connected by powdered lines while enduring assaults from the ghosts, their blades ethereal yet palpably harmful. As his companions, Sam and Toro, contribute with their own blend of blood rituals and mystical chants, their efforts aim to bolster Elias's endeavor to cleanse the area of its haunting presences. Between Sam’s hissing commands to the shadows and Toro’s poetic invocations accompanied by ritualistic gestures, the graveyard becomes an arena where the metaphysical and the corporeal intersect, challenging the very fabric of reality.
The battle intensifies as Elias invokes the "Spirit of the Tempest," his form becoming the epicenter of a burgeoning storm, lightning as his herald. Despite sustaining a ghostly gunshot, he persists, his resolve unyielding. The specters retaliate with ferocity, yet the combined might of Elias’s elemental fury, Sam’s shadowy dominion, and Toro’s ceremonial magic gradually corners them. As the tumult reaches its crescendo, a decisive strike of lightning, called forth by Elias, eradicates one of the spirits, evidencing the turn of tide. Throughout this ordeal, Eric, armed with naught but his observations, remains a distant, albeit affected, witness to the night's grim ballet. The unhallowed eve thus culminates in a testament to their unwavering defiance against the spectral menace, proving even in the realm of spirits, unity and resolve harbor the power to sway the course of the unnatural.
(Elias's ghost banishing)
[Wed Oct 30 2024]
On the Sprawling Hillside of Arkwright Cemetery
It is dusk, about 61F(16C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky.
A haunting piano melody suddenly creeps over the graveyard as one by one, three spectral forms raise up into sight. Each is somewhat decayed and dressed in a mix of ballroom gown and old pirate garb, one wields a pair of flintlock pistols, another a wicked cutlass and the third a pair of sharp looking knives.
Eric does draw a bit nearer to Sam. And closer still, then, as the three ghosts appear, all armed, his form much preferring to shift behind Sam as he so does
Sam tenses up, then looks to Elias. "Lead the way, bosss." He winces, drawing the knife over the palm of his hand, and slowly dripping blood onto that circle, slowly drawing a circle of scarlet onto the earlier etchings.
Toro removes his hands from his hoodie's frontal pocket. "Hm," he murmurs, considering. From his bag, a plastic salt shaker and a candle are produced. A circle is made, thin and quick, uncharacteristically quick. The candle is lit and he glances toward the rest with a perked up brow. "A bit old fashioned," he tells Sam.
The cutlass-wielder attacks Elias, driving him back as the flintlock lady appears behind him, using the distraction to go through his pockets.
Sighing audible as the Victorian era spirits rise from the ground, Elias reaches to his pouch on his belt, pulling out a handful of stones that are roughly the size of a silver dollar. He starts walking in a circle, placing a stone every so often before noting, "Really, I would have thought we would be running out of pirate ghosts." Once the circle is complete, the dark haired man goes to his belt once more, pulling out a bag of some kind of powder it seems. Unlacing it carefully, Elias starts pour it out on the ground to connect each of the rune stones. As the combination of the attack and pickpocking attempt happens, Elias growls at them, "Fucking spirits." And he goes back to finish up the circle he had started.
Reaching under his shirt, Elias produces a quartz crystal on a string as he makes his way towards the center of the circle. Reaching up to the sky with his out spread fingers, his hand becomes a fist before pulling his fist back towards his chest. As he does this, overhead, the clouds start to become more dense in a reaction to this movement.
Sam calls out to Elias, then nods to Toro, the wound on his hand very much vanished. "It iss what it isss." His voice goes deeper, a heavy hiss in each syllable. "You good, there, Sstormcaller?" The light of the setting sun casts a deep shadow around Sam and Eric, slowly oozing out from the spilled blood as he hisses low, eye eyes fixating on the spirits. A brief glance is given to the left.
"Pirates?" Toro asks quietly toward Elias. "Is this common?" He follows up, sighing. "Pirates, pirates," he mumbles, stuffing the salt shaker beneath the pit of his busy hand and juggles digging around in his pocket. A half-dollar is found, pinched, and raised. He squints one eye shut, straining and struggling thought.
The dual-knife wielder disappears before her arms suddenly emerge from the ground, stabing into the feet of Elias to keep him in place as the cutlass wielder swoops forward.
Eric much prefers to stay back as best he really can. With no weapons, precious metals, or other implements to call his own, he ducks on down just a touch while looking on to observe what he must.
"Unfortunately, of late it has been." Elias says to Toro with a nod before addressing Sam, "Yes. All is good for now. It has yet to truly get bad yet though." Once more, the dark haired man's hand returns to his belt, this time, he finds a bundle of herbs, most likely sage. Just as he pulls this out, it seems the spirits react to this action almost immediately. A knife plunges into his foot as he growls out in pain, ducking low to dodge past a swinging cutlass. He calls out to Sam, "Can you keep them off me? I am not going to get very far in this if this keeps up."
Sam hisses low, pressing a hand against the scarlet circle, intoning a single word, the sound laced with hissing from the darkness itself, his movements jerky and slightly unnatural in nature. "Duat." He pauses, the shadows around his circle coiling and twisting. "Acceptable." He stalks forward, eyes narrowing as he starts slashing into one of the spirits, his form casting a long, coiling shadow on the ground, that seems to twist and turn.
Toro snaps his fingers, his dim eyes widen, a spark of thought flashing across them. "A man and a woman, seabound love. That'll work." He clears his throat and flicks the half-dollar toward the spirits. "In the sea of Iwami, by the Cape of Kara," he enunciates in a dead voice.
The cutlass-wielder attacks Elias, driving him back as the flintlock lady appears behind him, using the distraction to go through his pockets.
Using a brass Zippo lighter that he produces, Elias ignites the sage and he starts slowly moving it through the air to start to purify the interior of the circle with the bundle of sage. After few swipes, the dark haired man drops the smoldering sage within the circle and he once more clasps the quartz crystal around his neck. Before he can do much, once again another barrage of attacks come and him, but this time, he produces his blade to help protect himself. A large bowie knife in which he parries the blades made completely of psychic energy and nothing really tangible, but the desperate act seems to work for now, "They are persistent." He grumbles, taking the moments he can to grasp upon the crystal on his neck, as he focuses, the temperature around him starts to drop rapidly as the rune stones themselves start to form frost along their surface.
Circling slowly, Sam tries to drive the specters over to his own circle, moving from side to side as he hisses low, his tongue flicking out as his eyes narrow. He seems to be operating on instinct, somewhat, like he's stalking prey. The shadows behind him hiss, a sound echoed by the man himself, flicking that tongue again.
For a few seconds, Toro pauses his rhythmic winding of syllables, giving a look of hinted concern toward Elias. "How're you faring?" He mumbles, holding the candle up high, his eyes darting around to track the old spirits while he steps, sideways, out of his circle. Little-by-little, he leaves its safety, circling the malevolence's origin as he creates a larger circle, of both salt and dirt-drawn line.
The three spirits surround Elias, attacking and harrying him from all sides.
Toro says "There amid the stones under sea, grows the deep-sea Miru weed; there along the rocky strand, grows the sleek sea tangle."
Sam smirks. "They ssseek you, ssstormcaller." He hisses, stepping off to Elias's side to at least catch some of the blows, his eyes narrowed, almost closed.
As energies start to collect within Elias, overhead the clouds above start to crackle with energy as lightning leaps between the clouds overhead. The layers of frost that were forming on the runestones only seem to thicken starting form ice about them. Even with Elias, ice starts to form on him as well. He whirls about parrying the blades as he works with his knife, before taking a blow into the stomach. The groans, falling to a knee with the spiritual blade sinking in and likely burning with its energy, but this doesn't stop him from working, "Spirit of the Tempest, I call upon thee. Come forth and destroy these that do not belong in this world, sweep them away with your mighty winds, destroy them with your powerful lightning!" And then overhead, lightning cracks overhead once more.
Eric backs up, more and more, quietly drawing away from what ghosts he has no desire to touch. A harsh grimace shows on his feature, and a headstone ends up somewhat covering his tall frame, two hands holding on as he squints at all what develops quietly as can be done.
Sam shivers heavily, his blade raised to catch some off the harrying blows. He hisses, and growls, seemingly getting into a trance of sorts as his body jolts and shudders.
The three spirits encircle the group, flicking in and out of reality as they coral them.
Toro winces a little at the sudden cracking of thunder and the fall of lightning, caught off-guard by what had been a stormless sky. Hurrying his pace, he reaches the end of the large circle, surrounding both spirits and combatants within them. He fetches a stone and, with it, scribbles cuneiform after cuneiform at four, evenly distributed points. "But few are the nights, we two have lain together," he enunciates in a dead melody, "Away I have come, parting from her, even as the creeping vines do part. My heart aches within me."
At the lull in the attacks, Sam stalks, nearly slithers back to that circle of his, speaking softly as he places both hands on the edges of that circle. He nods to Toro, then Elias, muttering under his breath.
With a touch of anger crossing Elias' expression, he holds his hands starts the sky calling out, "Mighty Tempest, I call thee forth! Sweep away these that do not belong here and defile what is natural and pure." The winds start to pick up, gusting around Elias as he calls out, yelling into the storm and above, the clouds grow more and more angry as lightning continues to arc between the clouds. The clouds seem to grow more and more, until the rain starts, pouring down upon them.
Sam hisses out soft whispers at his circle, a darkness filling it, as a pair of serpentine eyes glare out from the very shadow, the man sinking to both knees as he trembles, visibly sapped on energy.
Three quarters are produced and he scrambles to set them atop three of the four cuneiforms, softly kissing each. He nearly trips in his hurry, and worse a coin very nearly flies off as the wind yaws and circles around Elias. "Is there not a day when it doesn't rain," he complains, shoving the rogue coin deep, lodging it into the mud with his thumb. Toro hurries to the last cuneiform, which lacks a tuttance and kneels atop it, watching the goings on from outside the circle, chanting in his monotone.
Elias's shoulder suddenly burns as the flicklock wielder materializes long enough to fire a shot into him, there's no visible wound.
Toro says "I turn back to gaze, but because of the yellow leaves... of Watari Hill, flying and fluttering in the air: I cannot see plainly."
Toro says "My wife waving her sleeve to me. Now as the moon, sailing through the cloud-rift, above the mountain of Yakami, disappears, leaving me full of regret."
Sam speaks softly, sinking to his hands and knees as he musters up some more ounces of strength. It's a word, which he speaks with both reverence and ownership. "Apep." He shudders, that darkness slowly coiling towards the specters, though it seems to never quite breech Elias's circle. Like a predator, recognizing a stronger presence. "Apophissss." Another word, spoken with that same, hissing voice.
While Toro's efforts seem more rehearsed and formal, Elias's method seems to be more that of unbridled nature and the storm himself as he grins broadly as he starting to become the eye of the growing storm. Then BAM! The a flicklock's flash and Elias is struck in the left shoulder which flies back dramatically as he is hit with the spectral ammunition. He falls to a knee, gritting his teeth as the rain pours down on them. For a moment, he just remains there, recovering from the pain, even though there no real wound, it seems to feel real enough. He looks down at the pooling water beneath him, water running over his face as the heavens unleash upon them. He pushes himself to his feet slowly and brings his right hand to his chest. The damn clothing and even parts of his skin start to harden as ice starts to form won the cloth. He growls pointing at one of the spirits a distance away and a bolt of lightning strikes down from the sky above and strikes the spirit, dissipating it, at least for the moment, "The relentless Tempest! I call upon thee! Destroy these spirits, have them remain a blight no more!"
Eric grits his teeth a good deal, looking on with a miserable frown on his face yet. Nails dig into a tombstone, but very little motion takes place; he simply does not have it in him to even flinch from where he looks on to what continues to proceed.
The battle intensifies as Elias invokes the "Spirit of the Tempest," his form becoming the epicenter of a burgeoning storm, lightning as his herald. Despite sustaining a ghostly gunshot, he persists, his resolve unyielding. The specters retaliate with ferocity, yet the combined might of Elias’s elemental fury, Sam’s shadowy dominion, and Toro’s ceremonial magic gradually corners them. As the tumult reaches its crescendo, a decisive strike of lightning, called forth by Elias, eradicates one of the spirits, evidencing the turn of tide. Throughout this ordeal, Eric, armed with naught but his observations, remains a distant, albeit affected, witness to the night's grim ballet. The unhallowed eve thus culminates in a testament to their unwavering defiance against the spectral menace, proving even in the realm of spirits, unity and resolve harbor the power to sway the course of the unnatural.
(Elias's ghost banishing)
[Wed Oct 30 2024]
On the Sprawling Hillside of Arkwright Cemetery
It is dusk, about 61F(16C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky.
A haunting piano melody suddenly creeps over the graveyard as one by one, three spectral forms raise up into sight. Each is somewhat decayed and dressed in a mix of ballroom gown and old pirate garb, one wields a pair of flintlock pistols, another a wicked cutlass and the third a pair of sharp looking knives.
Eric does draw a bit nearer to Sam. And closer still, then, as the three ghosts appear, all armed, his form much preferring to shift behind Sam as he so does
Sam tenses up, then looks to Elias. "Lead the way, bosss." He winces, drawing the knife over the palm of his hand, and slowly dripping blood onto that circle, slowly drawing a circle of scarlet onto the earlier etchings.
Toro removes his hands from his hoodie's frontal pocket. "Hm," he murmurs, considering. From his bag, a plastic salt shaker and a candle are produced. A circle is made, thin and quick, uncharacteristically quick. The candle is lit and he glances toward the rest with a perked up brow. "A bit old fashioned," he tells Sam.
The cutlass-wielder attacks Elias, driving him back as the flintlock lady appears behind him, using the distraction to go through his pockets.
Sighing audible as the Victorian era spirits rise from the ground, Elias reaches to his pouch on his belt, pulling out a handful of stones that are roughly the size of a silver dollar. He starts walking in a circle, placing a stone every so often before noting, "Really, I would have thought we would be running out of pirate ghosts." Once the circle is complete, the dark haired man goes to his belt once more, pulling out a bag of some kind of powder it seems. Unlacing it carefully, Elias starts pour it out on the ground to connect each of the rune stones. As the combination of the attack and pickpocking attempt happens, Elias growls at them, "Fucking spirits." And he goes back to finish up the circle he had started.
Reaching under his shirt, Elias produces a quartz crystal on a string as he makes his way towards the center of the circle. Reaching up to the sky with his out spread fingers, his hand becomes a fist before pulling his fist back towards his chest. As he does this, overhead, the clouds start to become more dense in a reaction to this movement.
Sam calls out to Elias, then nods to Toro, the wound on his hand very much vanished. "It iss what it isss." His voice goes deeper, a heavy hiss in each syllable. "You good, there, Sstormcaller?" The light of the setting sun casts a deep shadow around Sam and Eric, slowly oozing out from the spilled blood as he hisses low, eye eyes fixating on the spirits. A brief glance is given to the left.
"Pirates?" Toro asks quietly toward Elias. "Is this common?" He follows up, sighing. "Pirates, pirates," he mumbles, stuffing the salt shaker beneath the pit of his busy hand and juggles digging around in his pocket. A half-dollar is found, pinched, and raised. He squints one eye shut, straining and struggling thought.
The dual-knife wielder disappears before her arms suddenly emerge from the ground, stabing into the feet of Elias to keep him in place as the cutlass wielder swoops forward.
Eric much prefers to stay back as best he really can. With no weapons, precious metals, or other implements to call his own, he ducks on down just a touch while looking on to observe what he must.
"Unfortunately, of late it has been." Elias says to Toro with a nod before addressing Sam, "Yes. All is good for now. It has yet to truly get bad yet though." Once more, the dark haired man's hand returns to his belt, this time, he finds a bundle of herbs, most likely sage. Just as he pulls this out, it seems the spirits react to this action almost immediately. A knife plunges into his foot as he growls out in pain, ducking low to dodge past a swinging cutlass. He calls out to Sam, "Can you keep them off me? I am not going to get very far in this if this keeps up."
Sam hisses low, pressing a hand against the scarlet circle, intoning a single word, the sound laced with hissing from the darkness itself, his movements jerky and slightly unnatural in nature. "Duat." He pauses, the shadows around his circle coiling and twisting. "Acceptable." He stalks forward, eyes narrowing as he starts slashing into one of the spirits, his form casting a long, coiling shadow on the ground, that seems to twist and turn.
Toro snaps his fingers, his dim eyes widen, a spark of thought flashing across them. "A man and a woman, seabound love. That'll work." He clears his throat and flicks the half-dollar toward the spirits. "In the sea of Iwami, by the Cape of Kara," he enunciates in a dead voice.
The cutlass-wielder attacks Elias, driving him back as the flintlock lady appears behind him, using the distraction to go through his pockets.
Using a brass Zippo lighter that he produces, Elias ignites the sage and he starts slowly moving it through the air to start to purify the interior of the circle with the bundle of sage. After few swipes, the dark haired man drops the smoldering sage within the circle and he once more clasps the quartz crystal around his neck. Before he can do much, once again another barrage of attacks come and him, but this time, he produces his blade to help protect himself. A large bowie knife in which he parries the blades made completely of psychic energy and nothing really tangible, but the desperate act seems to work for now, "They are persistent." He grumbles, taking the moments he can to grasp upon the crystal on his neck, as he focuses, the temperature around him starts to drop rapidly as the rune stones themselves start to form frost along their surface.
Circling slowly, Sam tries to drive the specters over to his own circle, moving from side to side as he hisses low, his tongue flicking out as his eyes narrow. He seems to be operating on instinct, somewhat, like he's stalking prey. The shadows behind him hiss, a sound echoed by the man himself, flicking that tongue again.
For a few seconds, Toro pauses his rhythmic winding of syllables, giving a look of hinted concern toward Elias. "How're you faring?" He mumbles, holding the candle up high, his eyes darting around to track the old spirits while he steps, sideways, out of his circle. Little-by-little, he leaves its safety, circling the malevolence's origin as he creates a larger circle, of both salt and dirt-drawn line.
The three spirits surround Elias, attacking and harrying him from all sides.
Toro says "There amid the stones under sea, grows the deep-sea Miru weed; there along the rocky strand, grows the sleek sea tangle."
Sam smirks. "They ssseek you, ssstormcaller." He hisses, stepping off to Elias's side to at least catch some of the blows, his eyes narrowed, almost closed.
As energies start to collect within Elias, overhead the clouds above start to crackle with energy as lightning leaps between the clouds overhead. The layers of frost that were forming on the runestones only seem to thicken starting form ice about them. Even with Elias, ice starts to form on him as well. He whirls about parrying the blades as he works with his knife, before taking a blow into the stomach. The groans, falling to a knee with the spiritual blade sinking in and likely burning with its energy, but this doesn't stop him from working, "Spirit of the Tempest, I call upon thee. Come forth and destroy these that do not belong in this world, sweep them away with your mighty winds, destroy them with your powerful lightning!" And then overhead, lightning cracks overhead once more.
Eric backs up, more and more, quietly drawing away from what ghosts he has no desire to touch. A harsh grimace shows on his feature, and a headstone ends up somewhat covering his tall frame, two hands holding on as he squints at all what develops quietly as can be done.
Sam shivers heavily, his blade raised to catch some off the harrying blows. He hisses, and growls, seemingly getting into a trance of sorts as his body jolts and shudders.
The three spirits encircle the group, flicking in and out of reality as they coral them.
Toro winces a little at the sudden cracking of thunder and the fall of lightning, caught off-guard by what had been a stormless sky. Hurrying his pace, he reaches the end of the large circle, surrounding both spirits and combatants within them. He fetches a stone and, with it, scribbles cuneiform after cuneiform at four, evenly distributed points. "But few are the nights, we two have lain together," he enunciates in a dead melody, "Away I have come, parting from her, even as the creeping vines do part. My heart aches within me."
At the lull in the attacks, Sam stalks, nearly slithers back to that circle of his, speaking softly as he places both hands on the edges of that circle. He nods to Toro, then Elias, muttering under his breath.
With a touch of anger crossing Elias' expression, he holds his hands starts the sky calling out, "Mighty Tempest, I call thee forth! Sweep away these that do not belong here and defile what is natural and pure." The winds start to pick up, gusting around Elias as he calls out, yelling into the storm and above, the clouds grow more and more angry as lightning continues to arc between the clouds. The clouds seem to grow more and more, until the rain starts, pouring down upon them.
Sam hisses out soft whispers at his circle, a darkness filling it, as a pair of serpentine eyes glare out from the very shadow, the man sinking to both knees as he trembles, visibly sapped on energy.
Three quarters are produced and he scrambles to set them atop three of the four cuneiforms, softly kissing each. He nearly trips in his hurry, and worse a coin very nearly flies off as the wind yaws and circles around Elias. "Is there not a day when it doesn't rain," he complains, shoving the rogue coin deep, lodging it into the mud with his thumb. Toro hurries to the last cuneiform, which lacks a tuttance and kneels atop it, watching the goings on from outside the circle, chanting in his monotone.
Elias's shoulder suddenly burns as the flicklock wielder materializes long enough to fire a shot into him, there's no visible wound.
Toro says "I turn back to gaze, but because of the yellow leaves... of Watari Hill, flying and fluttering in the air: I cannot see plainly."
Toro says "My wife waving her sleeve to me. Now as the moon, sailing through the cloud-rift, above the mountain of Yakami, disappears, leaving me full of regret."
Sam speaks softly, sinking to his hands and knees as he musters up some more ounces of strength. It's a word, which he speaks with both reverence and ownership. "Apep." He shudders, that darkness slowly coiling towards the specters, though it seems to never quite breech Elias's circle. Like a predator, recognizing a stronger presence. "Apophissss." Another word, spoken with that same, hissing voice.
While Toro's efforts seem more rehearsed and formal, Elias's method seems to be more that of unbridled nature and the storm himself as he grins broadly as he starting to become the eye of the growing storm. Then BAM! The a flicklock's flash and Elias is struck in the left shoulder which flies back dramatically as he is hit with the spectral ammunition. He falls to a knee, gritting his teeth as the rain pours down on them. For a moment, he just remains there, recovering from the pain, even though there no real wound, it seems to feel real enough. He looks down at the pooling water beneath him, water running over his face as the heavens unleash upon them. He pushes himself to his feet slowly and brings his right hand to his chest. The damn clothing and even parts of his skin start to harden as ice starts to form won the cloth. He growls pointing at one of the spirits a distance away and a bolt of lightning strikes down from the sky above and strikes the spirit, dissipating it, at least for the moment, "The relentless Tempest! I call upon thee! Destroy these spirits, have them remain a blight no more!"
Eric grits his teeth a good deal, looking on with a miserable frown on his face yet. Nails dig into a tombstone, but very little motion takes place; he simply does not have it in him to even flinch from where he looks on to what continues to proceed.