Patrollogs
Emmanuels Ghost Banishing 240828
The confrontation in Arkwright Cemetery escalates quickly as Emmanuel and his unlikely coalition face off against two ghostly armies. Amid the chaos, Emmanuel, armed with salt and a smudge stick, allies himself with Ash, Fayad, Novel, and Autumn in a desperate attempt to quell the spectral violence. The battlefield is rife with elemental magic, as ghostly soldiers and sorcerers unleash their fury upon each other and inadvertently on the living who dare intervene. The once peaceful graveyard becomes a perilous arena, with ice shards, fiery explosions, and ghostly arrows threatening the living at every turn. Despite their efforts, including Autumn's demonic incantations and Ash's ritualistic dance to forge an arcane circle, the group finds themselves battered by the relentless supernatural onslaught.
The tide begins to turn when Ash, despite suffering severe injuries, completes a disruptive magical bombardment that effectively blinds and disorients the spectral combatants. In a final act of desperation and defiance, they unleash a flashbang-like explosion of light, scattering the ghostly forces. Meanwhile, Novel revels in the chaos, engaging directly with individual ghosts with a blend of ruthlessness and glee. Amidst the confusion, Fayad battles both the physical and spectral threats, while Emmanuel's attempts at exorcism are met with physical and elemental hurdles that highlight the danger and unpredictability of the conflict. As the battle reaches its climax, the spectral armies begin to dissipate, retreating into the earth from which they emerged, leaving behind a graveyard scarred by their ethereal war but once again silent, as the living participants assess the aftermath of their harrowing victory.
(Emmanuel's ghost banishing)
[Mon Aug 19 2024]
On the Sprawling Hillside of Arkwright Cemetery
It is night, about 83F(28C) degrees, There is a waning gibbous moon.
An eerie stillness settles over the graveyard, the fog thickening like an otherworldly veil. The ground trembles, and two ghostly armies surge forth, locked in a battle that defies time. One side, draped in ethereal armor, charges with spectral weapons, while the other hurls crackling bolts of elemental magic. The air is alight with haunting energy as the spirits, long dead, resume their eternal battle, heedless of the living who are caught in their spectral warpath.
At least, this time, Emmanuel is somewhat armed and ready for ghost busting. He draws out a half-used smudge stick from his pockets, filling one hand with it, while the other burrows and sifts around his person until it's filled with pocket-salt. An important resource for a budding exorcist, it seems. "It is best we are sticking together, non?"
Novel shows up, skidding to a halt across the slickened grass in the comfortably hot darkness and then watches, openedmouthed, at the fight between the ghost lightning wizard and the axe-wielding combat ghost. "Holy FUCK this is fucking INCREDIBLE." He says, openly watching the battle with glee. "Could sell fucking FRONT ROW tickets to this shit."
A group of ethereal berserkers charge, only to be met by a rain of icy shards summoned by frost mancers. The temperature plummets, and living breath freezes in the air, while ice forms treacherous patches beneath the feet, threatening to send everyone sprawling upon the ground.
Fayad grimaces. "It's very exciting, yes, until you realise that we have to stop it from spilling out into town before they fuck everything and everyone up," he comments to Novel. "But I've not seen this...manifestation before. I'm going to need a bit to figure out what I can do to stop it."
Ash blinks, saying, "Oh, fuck... I've not seen *these* spirits before... the civil war was never fought up this north, right? I wonder if it's a pilgrims, native thing. That'd be sort of tight, right?" They nod to Autumn, then holds out their hands, fingers splayed. From their fingers come little will o' wisps, and the same comes from their toes. As they approach Emmanuel at his suggestion, light streams in a trail following their movements, though it fades after a moment. Frozen grass crunches painfully under their bare feet, but they don't let it stop them.
Novel gives Fayad a long, long stare. His expression is somewhat confused, as the ice forms. He kicks it, absent-mindedly, causing it to fracture and shatter beneath his feet. "Why the fuck do we care about that? Let it go. Spill into mayhem. Cause a few goddamn fires." He recommends the violent anarchy, his shoulders rolling and his expression turning to watch the fight with delight.
Armed with smoke, and salt, Emmanuel does the sensible thing as the two sides of the conflict clash. He dives for cover, skittering behind a tombstone as the ground betrays them, and icy shards crash about, "Merde!" The man cries out, flicking up just to throw a handful of salt at the nearest of the ghosts.
Ash asks Emmanuel, "Want me to start the circle? I can dance...."
Ash is clearly shivering from the cold, but otherwise, unwilling to duck or dodge, given that they aren't trying to stand in the way of the mage. They wait for Emmanuel, having seen the spirits come only when he seemed ready.
"Oh, oui. A circle!" Of course. Circles are always good for banishing spirits. With that reminder from Ash, Emmanuel goes about starting to dig lines into the semi-frozen earth of the cemetery. He pauses after several seconds, and peers back up toward them, "..Que? Dance?"
Fayad likewise counters the icy mancing with his own 'heat', warming the air around him and causing the freshmelt about him to sink into the grass.
Novel brushes off some frost that's starting to form across his own body, shivering, and rolling his eyes at Fayad fails to answer. So instead he leans over, reaches for one of the icicles that have formed on the tombstones, and snaps it off in his hand. Then he promptly walks up and stabs one of the distracted ghost mancers in the neck who makes a gurgling noise before crumpling into a melting, fading ball of ectoplasm.
A phalanx of ghostly knights charges forward, their spectral lances aimed at a line of mages, who summon a wall of fire in a desperate attempt to halt the advance. The resulting explosion sends waves of heat blasting throughout the graveyard, setting plants and clothing on fire.
Novel yelps as one of the mancers - perhaps not so accidentally - end up torching him, the man diving for the grass and cover behind at tombstone, rolling around and patting himself down as smoke wafts from his singed clothes and body. He growls, raising his... handful useless water now cupped in a palm. He sighs.
What is it that they say? Be careful what you wish for? There's a quiet sigh of relief as some warmth washes over Emmanuel, though the heat continues to build, and build, and when the man looks up to see why he cannot help but see the bloody explosion that blasts through the area. One minute he is shivering, and the next he is literally on fire, "Oh my go-" He doesn't even finish crying out before he's diving onto the ground, stop, dropping and rolling around.
Ash nods to Emmanuel, then decides to demonstrate. They take a few careful steps, before they pose, arms held up and apart. Then, they start the dance. Light, slow steps, moveing and swaying as they go, trailing light behind them. This time, however, the light stays. Their hands move in complex, arcane paterns, fingers, wrists, elbow and shoulders all in slow, but purposeful movements. Even as their body passes through them, the lights remain, and it doesn't take long for most to figure out what they're doing. An arcane circle starts to form behind them, a three dimensional tube as their toes and fingers each play their part. Their feet slide forward in half circles, their hips sway to maintain their purposeful steps. Even as fire scorches their clothes, embers in their ashen hair, they don't stop, though they hiss in pain, face grimacing.
"We?" Autumn wonders of Emmanuel while she chants under her breath. "I would be caught dead if I'm seen working with red dragon's goons." Turning to find the ghostly knights and turns to duck, her black clothes singed while unfazed by the heat. "Let flames of Prince Samael and those I serve counter this cold wrath." While her magic glows brighter, black smoke starts to circle around the demoness who uses her hand to gesture towards the air.
Fayad rolls his eyes and then finally responds to Novel. "It's because if they get out into the town, they'll start possessing people and they'll start fighting each other for real," he informs the man. "Which isn't good because it's pointless. We want people to fight the monsters that rule them, not each other," he instructs Novel. Then Fayad glares at the massive explosion, shielding his face with his huge gauntlet, and then lowering it as the battle is joined again. He launches his own assaults into the fray, but it's more about assisting one side and then the other, helping them whittle each other down, like a mancer does with a minion.
The sheer cognitive dissonance of Autumn's comment causes an immediate nosebleed as Emmanuel tries to parse it, before giving up and shaking his head. At least Ash is helping, and looking good while doing it! He scrambles back up to his feet, fire dealt with for the time being, and starts to throw handfuls of salt over Ash, in an attempt to assist, "Leave spirits! Go! Begone.. away with you. Piss off?"
As a battalion of armored specters marches forth, a group of wraith-like sorcerers unleashes a storm of arcane missiles, shattering the ghostly shields; the resulting shockwave threatens to make ears bleed, if someone gets caught without cover.
"Oh. Okay. Fucking -targeting- is the fucking problem. Okay." Novel nod nods back to Fayad, a sort of understanding crossing his features. But in it's place leaves a certain amount of sensibility as he casts about for another weapon. And then he shrugs and pulls out his own bowie knife tucked down one of his own legs with a savage grin, ducking again as he spots the shockwave before he hears it, sending shattering chunks off of the tombstone he's cowering behind. And then he lunges out, hopping over the stone, dashing to -tackle- one of the wraith sorcerers. Him, and it, disappear behind another stone. Thrashing. Then he pokes his head out sans ghost, looking for another target, as if he were a completely deranged and murderous meerkat.
Ash asks Autumn, "Can you help put me out, then? I'm not one of them... and if you can control this fire to *not* burn me, I would really appreciate it." They continue their circle, completing it... then their lights pulse, bright, and they smoothly begin to move faster. Their legs kick and swing, their body bends and twists at the waist, and the circle gains in complexity as they gyrate, spin, dip, and raise hands in exultation. They begin to chant as well, words used often in ghost banishing rituals, for the ritualists amongst the group. Though, their words get *louder* as their eardrums burst, a scream that nevertheless maintains the words, followed by hissed phrases as they fight through the pain.
Fayad claps his hand over one ear, but his gauntlet can't protect him from the other ,being too awkward and unwieldy to clap properly over the orifice. He winces steadily, lowering his head as he stumbles, his center of balance ruined for the moment as his spellwork falters.
"And yet dragon wants to rule all over us with fire and burning everything," Autumn murmurs before she shakes her head. The shockwave catches her off-guard, blood dripping down her ears as she winces in pain. As her curvy, half-clothed body shivers, Autumn nods her head at Ash and turns to channel her magic towards the fire, both hands out to try to control it.
"Ah, Ash, it is like speaking with a brick, hm? She is an enemy of all, and an ally of.. all as well," Emmanuel points out between handfuls of salt, gesturing toward Autumn and the kaledoscope of symbols she wears. Though any further comments on this have to wait as the shockwave does indeed catch Emmanuel without cover. One moment he is flicking salt, and muttering, and the next he is upside down in the air, wailing as he goes crashing over towards Fayad.
Two spectral generals lock eyes from across the battlefield as their armies collide in a chaotic whirlwind of steel and spell. One of them has a blade wreathed in fire; the other conjures a vertex of ice-cold magic around him - their collision sends a shockwave rippling through the graveyard that knocks everyone off their feet and cracks all nearby gravestones right in half.
Novel glances around, seeing Ash, Autumn, Emmanuel and Fayad all get horribly blasted by the wizardy bullshit and then grins. It looks like it amuses him, a certain amount of wicked joy in his features as he wonders, once more, if they really -shouldn't- just let the ghosts do as they wish. He clenches his hands back around his gravestone and then looks very startled as the top half comes right off in his fingers and sends him sliding, skittering across the grass before he catches up against a ghostknight who recently got his shield broken. He looks up.
"Sup?" He says, just before stabbing the ghost where it's corporeal body once had kindeys. Seems to work for the man.
Fayad snorts, looking over towards Autumn. "You have any idea how schizophrenic you sound, saying that while you're in the middle of invoking demons-", and then he's thrown to the ground by Emmanuel's entire body, wheezing, unable to draw breath, having been nailed right in the solar plexus as the man lays on top of him.
"Oooow.." Emmanuel complains sourly, having been turned into an Emmissile by the ghosts, "Why did you not catch me?" He wonders of Fayad, after smashing the poor man into the ground. He starts to scramble back up to his feet once more, only to be caught by the next bloody shockwave which only pushes him, and all his elbows and knees, back atop of Fayad.
Ash finishes the second circle, and it pulses again, this time maintaining the heightened intensity. In their wake, will o' wisps drift behind to take their places, floating over certain sigils. They seem to be doing great, withstanding the assault from the battlefield... until a leap has just the worst timing, and they pass through the air in the same position with the hilarious physics of a video game - at least, until they hit the ground, tumbling and rolling until they hit a gravestone with a cry of pain. "Ah, FUCK!" they yell, arching their back then clutching at their rib, cursing a mile a minute as they wait for the pain to pass.
Fayad squeaks pathetically, just like a toy worried by a hound.
Novel then proceeds to get up and smash the gravestone right into another ghost's head that seemed to be trying to decide what to do with the mortal and kick him into a THIRD ghost, which collapses part of the engagement line and causes a scuffle as everything falls over everything else like a row of dominos for a distance. He nods in satisfaction, hands on his hips, openly admiring the mayhem that's being caused of the battlefield and his allies, looking deeply pleased with the results and destruction.
"How about I ask those I serve myself and see-" Autumn gets cut off as she is thrown towards the ground. "Ugh, there may be way to deal with that pact of yours," she croaks while she struggles to get up. "Yet you do not understand that I'm only in two alliances now. Maybe Hell would be better place."
"Uuugh." Emmanuel complains once more, elbowing and kneeing poor Fayad as he scrambles back up from atop him. Poor Fayad. "These are being very feisty, powerful ghosts, non?" He chirps out to, well, anyone in earshot, before pushing up to his feet. He scrambles to try and find his misplaced salt, and smudge stick, before flicking a glance over toward Autumn, "Oh? ..oh, you are meaning-" He shakes his head.
The air thickens with an unnatural fog as ghostly archers let loose a volley of arrows. The projectiles are swept away by a whirlwind conjured by spectral windcallers, and the gust of wind sends everyone alive flying against tombstones with bone-jarring force.
Novel responds to Autumn, "No. Hell sucks. It has two weathers. Cold and raining acid. Fuck you." The added insult at the end honestly just seems to be like a verbal tick at this point - he has a delighted smile on his face the whole time and then he goes, "Ahh, fuck!" As he's suddenly run through a tumble dryer of spectral flensing as he curls into a ball and puts his hands over his his eyes to protect them from being gouged as he THUDS against a broken tombstone. "ow"
Fayad is thankfully already on the ground. Less thankfully he's bruised and battered from Emmanuel using him as a fucking mattress. He groans as he sucks air, trying to find breath again.
Autumn is only half-way up before she is thrown again, this time against the tombstone. "I suppose I should leave rest to you since I'm out," she calls out, getting to her knees before she turns to Novel. "I live there and there is no acid rain. Only fire and demons." The black smoke them envelops around her while her glow starts to fade.
Ash gets up on all fours, then climbs to their feet with a tombstone as a crutch. "Fuck, fuck, FUCK, man! Shit...." They rise to stand up straight, without the tombstone - and are rewarded by being thrown back *again*, just so that they can crack their other rib, clearly. And their gut, it seems, as the force bends them around the edge of the grave marker. They kick their feet, growling, "Piss, shit fucking, dragon gobbling, ice cream enema gimp boys, fucking SHIT!" They growl, panting, then sob for a moment.
The gust of wind blows the large package of salt right on out of Emmanuel's hands, and directly down into Fayad's face. He really can't catch a break. Speaking of break, the Frenchman is thrown right on through another tombstone, costing the city yet more in repair bills.
Novel lays there on the floor, in the grass, having gone prone. There's a long heartbeat. Then a giggle from the man, spilling over in mirth as he flexes his limbs and looks openly delighted in spite of bruising and grass stains and having been pummeled with stone. And in fact he response, "District fucking eighty-two, bitch!" He responds to someone before springing to his feet. And then, perhaps having sense knocked into him, dives for one of the heavier monuments - an angel statue, of all things.
Novel lays there on the floor, in the grass, having gone prone. There's a long heartbeat. Then a giggle from the man, spilling over in mirth as he flexes his limbs and looks openly delighted in spite of bruising and grass stains and having been pummeled with stone. And in fact he response, "District fucking eighty-two, bitch!" He responds to the now-gone crazy demon summoner before springing to his feet. And then, perhaps having sense knocked into him, dives for one of the heavier monuments - an angel statue, of all things.
As the ground quakes with the stomp of spectral soldiers, a coven of phantom witches weaves spells that entangle the giants in thorny vines. The living are ensnared as well, ghostly vines tearing through the earth to wrap around their limbs, attempting to drag them down.
Fayad gasps for breath as he paws at his face with both hands, desperately trying to get the salt out of his lungs as he accidentally pokes himself with the sharp talon-tips of his gauntlets, sending droplets of blood cascading down his own features.
Ash rolls over, making it to their knees, still clutching their ribs and belly as they move forward. Unlike Autumn, who is showing sense for at least this moment, they push through the pain, whimpering with their movements, climbing to their feet again. They stumble over to the circle, and waves away the unfinished part of the circle, saying, "Fine, two rings it is... for a *fucking* army... fuck." Then, of course, they're snared. "Fucking fuck! Why the thorns, bruh?" No answer is given, of course, and they're borne to the ground, the vines wrapping and tightening around them, sharp points raking across their skin, earning more colorful, half-nonsensical curses. "You know fucking what? Fine! You fucking ghost-ass bitches!"
Once more Emmanuel doesn't get the chance to quite make it to cover, he's in the middle of groaning his way back to his feet when he suddenly finds himself in the midst of a bondage film. "Que?" He chirps out in alarm as thorny vines weave and writhe their way about him, "I am hating this!" Just in case it wasn't obvious.
Ash starts to pulse their lights, the will o' wisps escaping the thorns with ease, coating their body. The circle starts to pulse in time with them. Each time, the will o' wisps get brighter, and the light flares, becoming more and more blinding as they strobe the area, flashing on and off. Like a video game bomb ready to explode....
Novel clings to the statue like a limpet and then seizes a nearby mancer that hadn't been run over my a legion of ghost soldiers and promptly shoves him down into his place, not at all hesitating to sacrifice the other entity for his own survival, though the points leave lacerations and bleeding up and down his leg as the alternative victim is taken and his legs scratch loose. "FUCK." He says, cleverly.
Ash screams, enraged, as the strobing gets faster and faster - yeah, this is a fucking bomb, until the area is bathed in blinding white light, a flashbang that scours the area with light that hurts even with one's eyes closed... though, not permanent, at least.
A sudden gust of wind sweeps through the graveyard, scattering the remnants of battle - ashes, shattered stones, and burned foliage - until all that's left is an unsettling calm. The ghostly combatants begin to falter, their spectral forms flickering like dying embers. One by one, they retreat into the earth, their energy spent, until the graveyard is once again quiet.
The tide begins to turn when Ash, despite suffering severe injuries, completes a disruptive magical bombardment that effectively blinds and disorients the spectral combatants. In a final act of desperation and defiance, they unleash a flashbang-like explosion of light, scattering the ghostly forces. Meanwhile, Novel revels in the chaos, engaging directly with individual ghosts with a blend of ruthlessness and glee. Amidst the confusion, Fayad battles both the physical and spectral threats, while Emmanuel's attempts at exorcism are met with physical and elemental hurdles that highlight the danger and unpredictability of the conflict. As the battle reaches its climax, the spectral armies begin to dissipate, retreating into the earth from which they emerged, leaving behind a graveyard scarred by their ethereal war but once again silent, as the living participants assess the aftermath of their harrowing victory.
(Emmanuel's ghost banishing)
[Mon Aug 19 2024]
On the Sprawling Hillside of Arkwright Cemetery
It is night, about 83F(28C) degrees, There is a waning gibbous moon.
An eerie stillness settles over the graveyard, the fog thickening like an otherworldly veil. The ground trembles, and two ghostly armies surge forth, locked in a battle that defies time. One side, draped in ethereal armor, charges with spectral weapons, while the other hurls crackling bolts of elemental magic. The air is alight with haunting energy as the spirits, long dead, resume their eternal battle, heedless of the living who are caught in their spectral warpath.
At least, this time, Emmanuel is somewhat armed and ready for ghost busting. He draws out a half-used smudge stick from his pockets, filling one hand with it, while the other burrows and sifts around his person until it's filled with pocket-salt. An important resource for a budding exorcist, it seems. "It is best we are sticking together, non?"
Novel shows up, skidding to a halt across the slickened grass in the comfortably hot darkness and then watches, openedmouthed, at the fight between the ghost lightning wizard and the axe-wielding combat ghost. "Holy FUCK this is fucking INCREDIBLE." He says, openly watching the battle with glee. "Could sell fucking FRONT ROW tickets to this shit."
A group of ethereal berserkers charge, only to be met by a rain of icy shards summoned by frost mancers. The temperature plummets, and living breath freezes in the air, while ice forms treacherous patches beneath the feet, threatening to send everyone sprawling upon the ground.
Fayad grimaces. "It's very exciting, yes, until you realise that we have to stop it from spilling out into town before they fuck everything and everyone up," he comments to Novel. "But I've not seen this...manifestation before. I'm going to need a bit to figure out what I can do to stop it."
Ash blinks, saying, "Oh, fuck... I've not seen *these* spirits before... the civil war was never fought up this north, right? I wonder if it's a pilgrims, native thing. That'd be sort of tight, right?" They nod to Autumn, then holds out their hands, fingers splayed. From their fingers come little will o' wisps, and the same comes from their toes. As they approach Emmanuel at his suggestion, light streams in a trail following their movements, though it fades after a moment. Frozen grass crunches painfully under their bare feet, but they don't let it stop them.
Novel gives Fayad a long, long stare. His expression is somewhat confused, as the ice forms. He kicks it, absent-mindedly, causing it to fracture and shatter beneath his feet. "Why the fuck do we care about that? Let it go. Spill into mayhem. Cause a few goddamn fires." He recommends the violent anarchy, his shoulders rolling and his expression turning to watch the fight with delight.
Armed with smoke, and salt, Emmanuel does the sensible thing as the two sides of the conflict clash. He dives for cover, skittering behind a tombstone as the ground betrays them, and icy shards crash about, "Merde!" The man cries out, flicking up just to throw a handful of salt at the nearest of the ghosts.
Ash asks Emmanuel, "Want me to start the circle? I can dance...."
Ash is clearly shivering from the cold, but otherwise, unwilling to duck or dodge, given that they aren't trying to stand in the way of the mage. They wait for Emmanuel, having seen the spirits come only when he seemed ready.
"Oh, oui. A circle!" Of course. Circles are always good for banishing spirits. With that reminder from Ash, Emmanuel goes about starting to dig lines into the semi-frozen earth of the cemetery. He pauses after several seconds, and peers back up toward them, "..Que? Dance?"
Fayad likewise counters the icy mancing with his own 'heat', warming the air around him and causing the freshmelt about him to sink into the grass.
Novel brushes off some frost that's starting to form across his own body, shivering, and rolling his eyes at Fayad fails to answer. So instead he leans over, reaches for one of the icicles that have formed on the tombstones, and snaps it off in his hand. Then he promptly walks up and stabs one of the distracted ghost mancers in the neck who makes a gurgling noise before crumpling into a melting, fading ball of ectoplasm.
A phalanx of ghostly knights charges forward, their spectral lances aimed at a line of mages, who summon a wall of fire in a desperate attempt to halt the advance. The resulting explosion sends waves of heat blasting throughout the graveyard, setting plants and clothing on fire.
Novel yelps as one of the mancers - perhaps not so accidentally - end up torching him, the man diving for the grass and cover behind at tombstone, rolling around and patting himself down as smoke wafts from his singed clothes and body. He growls, raising his... handful useless water now cupped in a palm. He sighs.
What is it that they say? Be careful what you wish for? There's a quiet sigh of relief as some warmth washes over Emmanuel, though the heat continues to build, and build, and when the man looks up to see why he cannot help but see the bloody explosion that blasts through the area. One minute he is shivering, and the next he is literally on fire, "Oh my go-" He doesn't even finish crying out before he's diving onto the ground, stop, dropping and rolling around.
Ash nods to Emmanuel, then decides to demonstrate. They take a few careful steps, before they pose, arms held up and apart. Then, they start the dance. Light, slow steps, moveing and swaying as they go, trailing light behind them. This time, however, the light stays. Their hands move in complex, arcane paterns, fingers, wrists, elbow and shoulders all in slow, but purposeful movements. Even as their body passes through them, the lights remain, and it doesn't take long for most to figure out what they're doing. An arcane circle starts to form behind them, a three dimensional tube as their toes and fingers each play their part. Their feet slide forward in half circles, their hips sway to maintain their purposeful steps. Even as fire scorches their clothes, embers in their ashen hair, they don't stop, though they hiss in pain, face grimacing.
"We?" Autumn wonders of Emmanuel while she chants under her breath. "I would be caught dead if I'm seen working with red dragon's goons." Turning to find the ghostly knights and turns to duck, her black clothes singed while unfazed by the heat. "Let flames of Prince Samael and those I serve counter this cold wrath." While her magic glows brighter, black smoke starts to circle around the demoness who uses her hand to gesture towards the air.
Fayad rolls his eyes and then finally responds to Novel. "It's because if they get out into the town, they'll start possessing people and they'll start fighting each other for real," he informs the man. "Which isn't good because it's pointless. We want people to fight the monsters that rule them, not each other," he instructs Novel. Then Fayad glares at the massive explosion, shielding his face with his huge gauntlet, and then lowering it as the battle is joined again. He launches his own assaults into the fray, but it's more about assisting one side and then the other, helping them whittle each other down, like a mancer does with a minion.
The sheer cognitive dissonance of Autumn's comment causes an immediate nosebleed as Emmanuel tries to parse it, before giving up and shaking his head. At least Ash is helping, and looking good while doing it! He scrambles back up to his feet, fire dealt with for the time being, and starts to throw handfuls of salt over Ash, in an attempt to assist, "Leave spirits! Go! Begone.. away with you. Piss off?"
As a battalion of armored specters marches forth, a group of wraith-like sorcerers unleashes a storm of arcane missiles, shattering the ghostly shields; the resulting shockwave threatens to make ears bleed, if someone gets caught without cover.
"Oh. Okay. Fucking -targeting- is the fucking problem. Okay." Novel nod nods back to Fayad, a sort of understanding crossing his features. But in it's place leaves a certain amount of sensibility as he casts about for another weapon. And then he shrugs and pulls out his own bowie knife tucked down one of his own legs with a savage grin, ducking again as he spots the shockwave before he hears it, sending shattering chunks off of the tombstone he's cowering behind. And then he lunges out, hopping over the stone, dashing to -tackle- one of the wraith sorcerers. Him, and it, disappear behind another stone. Thrashing. Then he pokes his head out sans ghost, looking for another target, as if he were a completely deranged and murderous meerkat.
Ash asks Autumn, "Can you help put me out, then? I'm not one of them... and if you can control this fire to *not* burn me, I would really appreciate it." They continue their circle, completing it... then their lights pulse, bright, and they smoothly begin to move faster. Their legs kick and swing, their body bends and twists at the waist, and the circle gains in complexity as they gyrate, spin, dip, and raise hands in exultation. They begin to chant as well, words used often in ghost banishing rituals, for the ritualists amongst the group. Though, their words get *louder* as their eardrums burst, a scream that nevertheless maintains the words, followed by hissed phrases as they fight through the pain.
Fayad claps his hand over one ear, but his gauntlet can't protect him from the other ,being too awkward and unwieldy to clap properly over the orifice. He winces steadily, lowering his head as he stumbles, his center of balance ruined for the moment as his spellwork falters.
"And yet dragon wants to rule all over us with fire and burning everything," Autumn murmurs before she shakes her head. The shockwave catches her off-guard, blood dripping down her ears as she winces in pain. As her curvy, half-clothed body shivers, Autumn nods her head at Ash and turns to channel her magic towards the fire, both hands out to try to control it.
"Ah, Ash, it is like speaking with a brick, hm? She is an enemy of all, and an ally of.. all as well," Emmanuel points out between handfuls of salt, gesturing toward Autumn and the kaledoscope of symbols she wears. Though any further comments on this have to wait as the shockwave does indeed catch Emmanuel without cover. One moment he is flicking salt, and muttering, and the next he is upside down in the air, wailing as he goes crashing over towards Fayad.
Two spectral generals lock eyes from across the battlefield as their armies collide in a chaotic whirlwind of steel and spell. One of them has a blade wreathed in fire; the other conjures a vertex of ice-cold magic around him - their collision sends a shockwave rippling through the graveyard that knocks everyone off their feet and cracks all nearby gravestones right in half.
Novel glances around, seeing Ash, Autumn, Emmanuel and Fayad all get horribly blasted by the wizardy bullshit and then grins. It looks like it amuses him, a certain amount of wicked joy in his features as he wonders, once more, if they really -shouldn't- just let the ghosts do as they wish. He clenches his hands back around his gravestone and then looks very startled as the top half comes right off in his fingers and sends him sliding, skittering across the grass before he catches up against a ghostknight who recently got his shield broken. He looks up.
"Sup?" He says, just before stabbing the ghost where it's corporeal body once had kindeys. Seems to work for the man.
Fayad snorts, looking over towards Autumn. "You have any idea how schizophrenic you sound, saying that while you're in the middle of invoking demons-", and then he's thrown to the ground by Emmanuel's entire body, wheezing, unable to draw breath, having been nailed right in the solar plexus as the man lays on top of him.
"Oooow.." Emmanuel complains sourly, having been turned into an Emmissile by the ghosts, "Why did you not catch me?" He wonders of Fayad, after smashing the poor man into the ground. He starts to scramble back up to his feet once more, only to be caught by the next bloody shockwave which only pushes him, and all his elbows and knees, back atop of Fayad.
Ash finishes the second circle, and it pulses again, this time maintaining the heightened intensity. In their wake, will o' wisps drift behind to take their places, floating over certain sigils. They seem to be doing great, withstanding the assault from the battlefield... until a leap has just the worst timing, and they pass through the air in the same position with the hilarious physics of a video game - at least, until they hit the ground, tumbling and rolling until they hit a gravestone with a cry of pain. "Ah, FUCK!" they yell, arching their back then clutching at their rib, cursing a mile a minute as they wait for the pain to pass.
Fayad squeaks pathetically, just like a toy worried by a hound.
Novel then proceeds to get up and smash the gravestone right into another ghost's head that seemed to be trying to decide what to do with the mortal and kick him into a THIRD ghost, which collapses part of the engagement line and causes a scuffle as everything falls over everything else like a row of dominos for a distance. He nods in satisfaction, hands on his hips, openly admiring the mayhem that's being caused of the battlefield and his allies, looking deeply pleased with the results and destruction.
"How about I ask those I serve myself and see-" Autumn gets cut off as she is thrown towards the ground. "Ugh, there may be way to deal with that pact of yours," she croaks while she struggles to get up. "Yet you do not understand that I'm only in two alliances now. Maybe Hell would be better place."
"Uuugh." Emmanuel complains once more, elbowing and kneeing poor Fayad as he scrambles back up from atop him. Poor Fayad. "These are being very feisty, powerful ghosts, non?" He chirps out to, well, anyone in earshot, before pushing up to his feet. He scrambles to try and find his misplaced salt, and smudge stick, before flicking a glance over toward Autumn, "Oh? ..oh, you are meaning-" He shakes his head.
The air thickens with an unnatural fog as ghostly archers let loose a volley of arrows. The projectiles are swept away by a whirlwind conjured by spectral windcallers, and the gust of wind sends everyone alive flying against tombstones with bone-jarring force.
Novel responds to Autumn, "No. Hell sucks. It has two weathers. Cold and raining acid. Fuck you." The added insult at the end honestly just seems to be like a verbal tick at this point - he has a delighted smile on his face the whole time and then he goes, "Ahh, fuck!" As he's suddenly run through a tumble dryer of spectral flensing as he curls into a ball and puts his hands over his his eyes to protect them from being gouged as he THUDS against a broken tombstone. "ow"
Fayad is thankfully already on the ground. Less thankfully he's bruised and battered from Emmanuel using him as a fucking mattress. He groans as he sucks air, trying to find breath again.
Autumn is only half-way up before she is thrown again, this time against the tombstone. "I suppose I should leave rest to you since I'm out," she calls out, getting to her knees before she turns to Novel. "I live there and there is no acid rain. Only fire and demons." The black smoke them envelops around her while her glow starts to fade.
Ash gets up on all fours, then climbs to their feet with a tombstone as a crutch. "Fuck, fuck, FUCK, man! Shit...." They rise to stand up straight, without the tombstone - and are rewarded by being thrown back *again*, just so that they can crack their other rib, clearly. And their gut, it seems, as the force bends them around the edge of the grave marker. They kick their feet, growling, "Piss, shit fucking, dragon gobbling, ice cream enema gimp boys, fucking SHIT!" They growl, panting, then sob for a moment.
The gust of wind blows the large package of salt right on out of Emmanuel's hands, and directly down into Fayad's face. He really can't catch a break. Speaking of break, the Frenchman is thrown right on through another tombstone, costing the city yet more in repair bills.
Novel lays there on the floor, in the grass, having gone prone. There's a long heartbeat. Then a giggle from the man, spilling over in mirth as he flexes his limbs and looks openly delighted in spite of bruising and grass stains and having been pummeled with stone. And in fact he response, "District fucking eighty-two, bitch!" He responds to someone before springing to his feet. And then, perhaps having sense knocked into him, dives for one of the heavier monuments - an angel statue, of all things.
Novel lays there on the floor, in the grass, having gone prone. There's a long heartbeat. Then a giggle from the man, spilling over in mirth as he flexes his limbs and looks openly delighted in spite of bruising and grass stains and having been pummeled with stone. And in fact he response, "District fucking eighty-two, bitch!" He responds to the now-gone crazy demon summoner before springing to his feet. And then, perhaps having sense knocked into him, dives for one of the heavier monuments - an angel statue, of all things.
As the ground quakes with the stomp of spectral soldiers, a coven of phantom witches weaves spells that entangle the giants in thorny vines. The living are ensnared as well, ghostly vines tearing through the earth to wrap around their limbs, attempting to drag them down.
Fayad gasps for breath as he paws at his face with both hands, desperately trying to get the salt out of his lungs as he accidentally pokes himself with the sharp talon-tips of his gauntlets, sending droplets of blood cascading down his own features.
Ash rolls over, making it to their knees, still clutching their ribs and belly as they move forward. Unlike Autumn, who is showing sense for at least this moment, they push through the pain, whimpering with their movements, climbing to their feet again. They stumble over to the circle, and waves away the unfinished part of the circle, saying, "Fine, two rings it is... for a *fucking* army... fuck." Then, of course, they're snared. "Fucking fuck! Why the thorns, bruh?" No answer is given, of course, and they're borne to the ground, the vines wrapping and tightening around them, sharp points raking across their skin, earning more colorful, half-nonsensical curses. "You know fucking what? Fine! You fucking ghost-ass bitches!"
Once more Emmanuel doesn't get the chance to quite make it to cover, he's in the middle of groaning his way back to his feet when he suddenly finds himself in the midst of a bondage film. "Que?" He chirps out in alarm as thorny vines weave and writhe their way about him, "I am hating this!" Just in case it wasn't obvious.
Ash starts to pulse their lights, the will o' wisps escaping the thorns with ease, coating their body. The circle starts to pulse in time with them. Each time, the will o' wisps get brighter, and the light flares, becoming more and more blinding as they strobe the area, flashing on and off. Like a video game bomb ready to explode....
Novel clings to the statue like a limpet and then seizes a nearby mancer that hadn't been run over my a legion of ghost soldiers and promptly shoves him down into his place, not at all hesitating to sacrifice the other entity for his own survival, though the points leave lacerations and bleeding up and down his leg as the alternative victim is taken and his legs scratch loose. "FUCK." He says, cleverly.
Ash screams, enraged, as the strobing gets faster and faster - yeah, this is a fucking bomb, until the area is bathed in blinding white light, a flashbang that scours the area with light that hurts even with one's eyes closed... though, not permanent, at least.
A sudden gust of wind sweeps through the graveyard, scattering the remnants of battle - ashes, shattered stones, and burned foliage - until all that's left is an unsettling calm. The ghostly combatants begin to falter, their spectral forms flickering like dying embers. One by one, they retreat into the earth, their energy spent, until the graveyard is once again quiet.