Patrollogs
(Emmanuel's decursing attempt)
[Tue Aug 6 2024]
At the Intersection of Elm Street and Paine Avenue
It is dawn, about 77F(25C) degrees, and the sky is covered by dark grey stormclouds. It's raining.
"..Well, this is less than ideal, hm." Emmanuel muses as he plucks a bracelet up, only for it to attach itself quite readily to him.
Emmanuel says "This is sounding more serious, hm? "
Curiousity is a double-edged blade, and if it wasn't already apparent then the insatiable draw of Emmanuel's that lead him to picking up a cursed bracelet would settle the argument, surely. It's a pretty thing, and catches the Frenchman's eye, even in the dark and rain.
"Hmm?" He chirps out, like a curious bird, and plucks up the pretty thing, only for it to coil around his arm and dig into his flesh. There's several seconds of loading time before he curses under his breath.@Line
"Merde!"
Well, this is Emmanuel's life now. He flicks his headlamp up with his other hand, skittering this way and that as he tries to decide on his next course of action. He could try and run his way up toward Fayad's tower, but it's quite far, and this thing is already humming. The most important thing is to get out of public view for now.
The artifact emits a flash of blinding light.
Emmanuel's decisions are made all the more clear after the bracelet blasts him in the face with a bright light, and like a deer in the headlights the Frenchman freezes for several seconds, before sprinting into the nearest store in a half-blind frenzy! "Changing rooms!" He calls out, as if that would explain it, as he darts over towards that very place, busts into a stall and kicks it closed behind hm.
"Okay, okay. You are knowing how to handle this, oui?" Emmanuel informs himself, panting a little as he catches his breath and stares at the cursed thing. This isn't his first rodeo, mind you, but it's certainly his first without an arcanist, or at least, some nullifying technology on hand.
Emmanuel pats down his pockets. No salt. No handbook on decursing. Hell, not even a mini-bible. He is rather unstocked for this sort of thing, "Merde, merde. Merde!" He curses the cursed object, which is probably not a clever thing to do, really. They often have personalities these things.
Growing air pressure makes your ear's pop uncomfortably and deadens all sound.
"Ack!" Emmanuel cries out as the bracelet does in fact take offense to his cussing, causing his eardrums to pop and leaving the man half-deaf to his complaints for some measure of time. "Ah, it is time to be focusing, Manny! Oui? You are so jazzed that you are still speaking English! While alone!" Silly Frenchman, indeed. He shifts then to bang the band, and his wrist against the wall before collecting himself anew.
After several steadying breathes, Emmanuel slips into his native tongue, and begins to talk himself through the process. "It is about intent, it's always about intent. The words and the rituals matter less than the thought behind them, and if I am anything, it is capable of thought." Jury may be out on that particular claim, but we shall see. After managing to calm himself, just a little, Emmanuel lowers down into a sitting position, crossing his legs and extending the arm with the bracelet on it.
"We'll start with more polite words, mister Bracelet, yes?" Emmanuel announces to the errant piece of jewellry as he focuses intent upon it, "Hello." The man chirps, "I am Emmanuel Baptiste, and I am asking that you would release me from your curse. I will hold no ill will against you, and your designer, and I will see you safety stored away, where you may rest and do no harm." A beat, "This is what I am offering.."
The artifact emits a flash of blinding light.
It seems that the bracelet doesn't accept Emmanuel's terms, for as the Frenchman stares at it intently it flashes him anew, blinding the man and sending him jerking backwards. His head crashes into the wall of the changing room stall, and half-stuns him, sending him onto his side like a bag of potatoes. "..Oooow." Emmanuel whines out in pain, rubbing at the back of his head as he blinks to try and clear the stars from his vision.
"Fayad?" Emmanuel tries another tact, calling for backup into the night air of the confined space. Though, unless the shorter fellow were lingering around changing stalls trying to get a peek of half-naked people it doesn't seem like it would very well.
And after a few minutes, it definitely hasn't, so Emmanuel is forced to get back to work.
Well, no more mister nice guy. "Hey! You piece of shit!" Emmanuel curses at the band, right back to insulting it. "I demand you leave me be! I'm going to.." He can't quite think of a threat just yet, but eventually gets there, "Leave you on a greyhound bus headed to BOSTON!" A fate worse than death, no doubt. Especially for an inanimate piece of jewellry.
A section of Emmanuel's clothing catches fire.
The satifying rasp of a blade fills the space as Emmanuel draws a small dagger from his person, and goes about trying to wedge the clasp of the thing apart, "Get off, get off! In the name of the holy spirit, and the Buddah! And the chi stuff that Saoirse talks.. about!"
Naturally, of course, the result of this is that Emmanuel catches alight. There's a blink, and then a screech of surprise as he bursts into flames, immediately throwing his arm out and starting to stop, drop and roll in the small space. No doubt the other customers in the store are calling the police, or perhaps the fire department, giving the screeching cries of rapid French, and the smoke filling the air.
"Get off, get off! Get off!" The knife slips in the chaos, scoring Emmanuel and spilling blood and flames and Frenchness all over the band as he rolls around between the two tight walls, wailing and crying out in alarm. "I command you! Get off me! Out! Bad! No!" At the very least, Emmanuel is having more success with fighting the fire than the bracelet, but it's slowly starting to come loose!
With a final burst of power the curse on a bone bracelet is broken.
Emmanuels Decursing Attempt 240807
(Emmanuel's decursing attempt)
[Tue Aug 6 2024]
At the Intersection of Elm Street and Paine Avenue
It is dawn, about 77F(25C) degrees, and the sky is covered by dark grey stormclouds. It's raining.
"..Well, this is less than ideal, hm." Emmanuel muses as he plucks a bracelet up, only for it to attach itself quite readily to him.
Emmanuel says "This is sounding more serious, hm? "
Curiousity is a double-edged blade, and if it wasn't already apparent then the insatiable draw of Emmanuel's that lead him to picking up a cursed bracelet would settle the argument, surely. It's a pretty thing, and catches the Frenchman's eye, even in the dark and rain.
"Hmm?" He chirps out, like a curious bird, and plucks up the pretty thing, only for it to coil around his arm and dig into his flesh. There's several seconds of loading time before he curses under his breath.@Line
"Merde!"
Well, this is Emmanuel's life now. He flicks his headlamp up with his other hand, skittering this way and that as he tries to decide on his next course of action. He could try and run his way up toward Fayad's tower, but it's quite far, and this thing is already humming. The most important thing is to get out of public view for now.
The artifact emits a flash of blinding light.
Emmanuel's decisions are made all the more clear after the bracelet blasts him in the face with a bright light, and like a deer in the headlights the Frenchman freezes for several seconds, before sprinting into the nearest store in a half-blind frenzy! "Changing rooms!" He calls out, as if that would explain it, as he darts over towards that very place, busts into a stall and kicks it closed behind hm.
"Okay, okay. You are knowing how to handle this, oui?" Emmanuel informs himself, panting a little as he catches his breath and stares at the cursed thing. This isn't his first rodeo, mind you, but it's certainly his first without an arcanist, or at least, some nullifying technology on hand.
Emmanuel pats down his pockets. No salt. No handbook on decursing. Hell, not even a mini-bible. He is rather unstocked for this sort of thing, "Merde, merde. Merde!" He curses the cursed object, which is probably not a clever thing to do, really. They often have personalities these things.
Growing air pressure makes your ear's pop uncomfortably and deadens all sound.
"Ack!" Emmanuel cries out as the bracelet does in fact take offense to his cussing, causing his eardrums to pop and leaving the man half-deaf to his complaints for some measure of time. "Ah, it is time to be focusing, Manny! Oui? You are so jazzed that you are still speaking English! While alone!" Silly Frenchman, indeed. He shifts then to bang the band, and his wrist against the wall before collecting himself anew.
After several steadying breathes, Emmanuel slips into his native tongue, and begins to talk himself through the process. "It is about intent, it's always about intent. The words and the rituals matter less than the thought behind them, and if I am anything, it is capable of thought." Jury may be out on that particular claim, but we shall see. After managing to calm himself, just a little, Emmanuel lowers down into a sitting position, crossing his legs and extending the arm with the bracelet on it.
"We'll start with more polite words, mister Bracelet, yes?" Emmanuel announces to the errant piece of jewellry as he focuses intent upon it, "Hello." The man chirps, "I am Emmanuel Baptiste, and I am asking that you would release me from your curse. I will hold no ill will against you, and your designer, and I will see you safety stored away, where you may rest and do no harm." A beat, "This is what I am offering.."
The artifact emits a flash of blinding light.
It seems that the bracelet doesn't accept Emmanuel's terms, for as the Frenchman stares at it intently it flashes him anew, blinding the man and sending him jerking backwards. His head crashes into the wall of the changing room stall, and half-stuns him, sending him onto his side like a bag of potatoes. "..Oooow." Emmanuel whines out in pain, rubbing at the back of his head as he blinks to try and clear the stars from his vision.
"Fayad?" Emmanuel tries another tact, calling for backup into the night air of the confined space. Though, unless the shorter fellow were lingering around changing stalls trying to get a peek of half-naked people it doesn't seem like it would very well.
And after a few minutes, it definitely hasn't, so Emmanuel is forced to get back to work.
Well, no more mister nice guy. "Hey! You piece of shit!" Emmanuel curses at the band, right back to insulting it. "I demand you leave me be! I'm going to.." He can't quite think of a threat just yet, but eventually gets there, "Leave you on a greyhound bus headed to BOSTON!" A fate worse than death, no doubt. Especially for an inanimate piece of jewellry.
A section of Emmanuel's clothing catches fire.
The satifying rasp of a blade fills the space as Emmanuel draws a small dagger from his person, and goes about trying to wedge the clasp of the thing apart, "Get off, get off! In the name of the holy spirit, and the Buddah! And the chi stuff that Saoirse talks.. about!"
Naturally, of course, the result of this is that Emmanuel catches alight. There's a blink, and then a screech of surprise as he bursts into flames, immediately throwing his arm out and starting to stop, drop and roll in the small space. No doubt the other customers in the store are calling the police, or perhaps the fire department, giving the screeching cries of rapid French, and the smoke filling the air.
"Get off, get off! Get off!" The knife slips in the chaos, scoring Emmanuel and spilling blood and flames and Frenchness all over the band as he rolls around between the two tight walls, wailing and crying out in alarm. "I command you! Get off me! Out! Bad! No!" At the very least, Emmanuel is having more success with fighting the fire than the bracelet, but it's slowly starting to come loose!
With a final burst of power the curse on a bone bracelet is broken.