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Emmellines Ghost Banishing 241226
In the cold, shadowed heart of Arkwright Cemetery, Emmelline, a practiced arcanist, undertakes the arduous task of banishing two feuding ghostly armies. Accompanied by Sophie, who offers a mix of humor, companionship, and a ready albeit non-supernatural defense, Emmelline begins her intricate ritual amidst the spectral chaos. The resurrection of ancient hostilities between ethereal warriors and mages fills the graveyard with a display of elemental fury and spectral vendettas. Amidst this turmoil, Sophie's attempts to maintain a sense of normalcy -- sending out a Christmas text and worrying over her attire getting ruined by mud -- juxtapose sharply with the otherworldly battle that unfolds.
As the conflict intensifies, Emmelline's methodical preparation shines through. Her choice to use a wooden tablet adorned with blood, drawn from vials with clinical precision, evidences a meticulous and unconventional approach to ritual magic. Despite the cataclysmic forces at play, Emmelline's focus remains unbroken, her commitment to her craft evident as she describes her methodology to Sophie, who listens with fascination without fully understanding the nuances of ritual magic. The climax of their endeavor comes as Emmelline finalizes the blood-infused tablet's activation, channeling its growing energy towards the warring spirits. This act of defiance against ancient spectral warriors, carried out not with grand gestures but with careful preparation and steady resolve, underscores the power and potential of unconventional paths to magical intervention. Through Emmelline's efforts, the narrative comes to a close not with a grand, cinematic clash, but with the slow, steady banishment of ghosts, showcasing the triumph of persistence, knowledge, and creative problem-solving over brute force and tradition.
(Emmelline's ghost banishing)
[Wed Dec 25 2024]
On the Sprawling Hillside of Arkwright Cemetery
It is night, about 36F(2C) degrees, and the sky is covered by dark grey stormclouds. It's snowing. There is a waning crescent 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.
'Oh this one, you might want to take cover," Emmelline tells Sophie, as the banishment begins. "Really, they're not the friendliest versions of ghosts. Not that most of them are.""
"Hey Emma," Sophie flashes Emmelline a smile while she walks in, hands in her pockets for warmth, a little shiver down her spine at the cold. "I guess we're dealing with the Ghost of Christmas Past here, huh?"
A pause, as the graveyard converts into a battlefield, and Sophie blinks. "... oh. Bad joke." Behind a nearby gravestone she goes immediately. "Are you an arcanist, by any chance?"
Sophie does pull up her phone to send out a quick 'merry christmas' text even if she's in the middle of dying probably. Priorities.
"yep yep," Emmelline says easily, as she hides behind another gravestone not far from Sophie. "Are you? Because these lot, are going to target me very soon here. Making concentrating rather a difficult task."
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.
"Nooope, not even a little bit," Sophie flashes Emmelline a bright, charming smile, as though she can distract away from the important stuff through the sheer force of dimpling at her. "I'm sure you've got this, though. I can, uh, shoot them." She pulls out her revolver, and then immediately yelps aloud when the shockwave comes barreling in, though she's mostly protected by her trusty gravestone, hunching down further behind it.
'I don't think shooting at them would do anything," Emmelline calls from where she's sat, behind the gravestone, taking cover, and making her profile as low as possible. "I remember when lenny thought chucking a grenade at it was the answer. Fortunately he didn't do it, but you know... that kind of stuff doesn't really work," she says with another soft sigh. Reaching in her duffle bag, she takes out a small wooden tablet. Small enough to be held in one hand. Upon the tablet are various carvings, different symbols shapes and runes. She reaches into her duffle once more, taking out a small vial of what appears to be blood, and a glass pipette. She uncorks the vial, and squeezes some of the blood into the pipette. She then begins placing blood on the tablet with great care. Covering some portiongs, whilst avoiding others. If someone weren't looking too closely, they might think she were involved in some weird art form with red paint, and with a pipette, rather than a paint brush."
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.
Sophie winces a little as more ghosts throw ghostly magic around all willy-nilly, reaching up to clasp her hands over her ears for a second. She watches Emmelline do her thing, her brow furrowed, and takes the opportunity while there's a bit of quiet to tiptoe over quickly to share the gravestone with her. "I'll cover you," she promises, watching the blood-tableting with some measure of interest, though with little to no idea of what's going on there. "Just in case."
"Well fortunately for the present," Emmelline says, as she continues her strange piping work, drawing more blood out the vial when needed, "they're more angry at each other than me. There's one particular version of this, where the ghosts actively come after you. So... we'll see."
A ghostly battlemage hurls a ball of fire, deflected mid-air by a phantom knight's shield, causing an explosion that sends searing heat and blinding light across the battlefield.
Sophie lets out a little hum of thought, cautiously peering over from behind the gravestone while Emmelline does her thing, to watch the back-and-forth clash of spirits and ghosts who really should have better thing to do on Christmas. "Well, I'll cover you from--" There's an 'eep', and she quickly ducks down before her hair gets caught on fire, though the heat does bring momentary relief - right up until it gets to be too much. And then, "Oh no," Sophie murmurs, glancing down at the ground where the snow begins to melt, "I hope it doesn't turn into gross mud that's going to ruin my clothes..."
Emmelline doesn't quite know what to say to Sophie's words, so she just continues her work. She is being quite careful and intentional about it. Again, avoiding certain parts of the tablet, whilst others get covered in blood. Though this isn't the easiest of tasks, given the tablet is just a small square, which one could easily hold with one hand. Bigger than the size of one's palm, it's about the size of an old fashioned floppy disc, give or take a little, though not quite so thin as one.
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.
Sophie isn't ritual-savvy enough to appreciate what Emmelline's getting up to, so she instead shifts her efforts towards making sure her clothes aren't being ruined. The hem of her coat is gathered and lifted just enough to keep it from brushing the ground, draped across her lap as she balances on her tiptoes in a delicate squat, eyes widening as yet another wave of heat resounds across the graveyard. "I /knew/ it," comes the mumble after she's ducked down to safety again, cinereal eyes finding the slushy, melting snow across the ground. Thankfully, the cover helps her not get set on fire, and she gives Emmelline a cursory glance just to make sure none of her is on fire either.
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.
Fortunately, given Emmelline is actually sat on the floor, she's down low enough to have avoided the fire and other insundry attacks. "A lot of ritualists do it differently," she makes conversation with Sophie as she continues her work. "Most of them like to either carve things directly say into a gravestone, or many I've seen, will draw things into the dirt. I don't fancy it. I mean one strong wind and a leaf blowing across it, could ruin the pattern," she says chortling. "And hand carving it into the stone seems like so much work. Still others,' she goes on easily, "will take a dagger to their hand or something, to spill the blood. That is so unnecessary, and leaves scars if not done carefully. I tend to prepare my vials of blood beforehand. I can just draw it as anyone else might get their blood drawn at a clinic or something, and pop it into the vials. It's easier that way. Less unintentional spilling of blood, and well... less messier all round. It's why I use the pipette. So as not to get blood on me.""
The howling of wind makes Sophie grimace, as does the large branch that's sent flying with the breeze to come landing /smack/ right into the gravestone she and Emmelline are hiding beneath. Sophie blinks owlishly, shivering just a little bit, but she turns her attention to Emmelline right after, watching and listening even if how much of it she actually absorbs is up for debate. "Sounds like a smart idea," she agrees. "I don't really know why people always cut into their /hand/ - I bet that's a movie thing. It'd be better if you did it like, across the back of your forearm or something, wouldn't it? That seems less likely to make you end up with nerve damage." A pause. "I don't really know anatomy, though. And, I guess, most ritualists are just better at healing, if they're supernatural." She clicks her tongue, thinking about it a little more, and then moves on. "Is it almost done?" It sounds like 'are we there yet?'.
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.
"Not all ritualists are supernatural though," Emmelline says with a nod. She's now finished the weird blood artwork, judging from the empty vial which she places into her duffle along with the pipette. She now begins concentrating on the tablet in front of her. Fortunately, as the generals do their thing, though the earth shakes, given the girl is already on the floor, she is just jostled, but unmoved. As she focuses her mental energies upon the tablet, it begins emitting a faint glow. WEak and intermitent at first, but it grows stronger and stronger with each passing moment. She flips the tablet outward, so the part with the blood on it is facing the ghosts. As the glow gets stronger, it begins having the desired effects on the ghosts. Though it is slow going.
"Most," Sophie agrees. "It comes easier after you're activated, yeah?" That's just hearsay though, Sophie doesn't really sound like she's an expert or anything, just shifting in her place a little uncomfortably as another worrying crack is heard within the gravestone they're hiding out behind. She quietens down right after, watching with slightly wide eyes as Emmelline's tablet starts glowing, eyes flickering between her and the ghosts terrorizing the cemetery.
"I don't know really," Emmelline says with a shrug of her shoulders. And as they speak, the tablet's glow grows stronger, sending out waves of light out at the ghosts. "I mean most would say the way I do things, is nontraditional. You should hear what's her face," she says as she tries to conjure up a name, "oh I can't remember. Elora maybe/ I don't know who else, there were these two women, talking about the way I do rituals. You'd think I'd broken some cardinal rule or something. Even though, the effect is the same."
As the conflict intensifies, Emmelline's methodical preparation shines through. Her choice to use a wooden tablet adorned with blood, drawn from vials with clinical precision, evidences a meticulous and unconventional approach to ritual magic. Despite the cataclysmic forces at play, Emmelline's focus remains unbroken, her commitment to her craft evident as she describes her methodology to Sophie, who listens with fascination without fully understanding the nuances of ritual magic. The climax of their endeavor comes as Emmelline finalizes the blood-infused tablet's activation, channeling its growing energy towards the warring spirits. This act of defiance against ancient spectral warriors, carried out not with grand gestures but with careful preparation and steady resolve, underscores the power and potential of unconventional paths to magical intervention. Through Emmelline's efforts, the narrative comes to a close not with a grand, cinematic clash, but with the slow, steady banishment of ghosts, showcasing the triumph of persistence, knowledge, and creative problem-solving over brute force and tradition.
(Emmelline's ghost banishing)
[Wed Dec 25 2024]
On the Sprawling Hillside of Arkwright Cemetery
It is night, about 36F(2C) degrees, and the sky is covered by dark grey stormclouds. It's snowing. There is a waning crescent 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.
'Oh this one, you might want to take cover," Emmelline tells Sophie, as the banishment begins. "Really, they're not the friendliest versions of ghosts. Not that most of them are.""
"Hey Emma," Sophie flashes Emmelline a smile while she walks in, hands in her pockets for warmth, a little shiver down her spine at the cold. "I guess we're dealing with the Ghost of Christmas Past here, huh?"
A pause, as the graveyard converts into a battlefield, and Sophie blinks. "... oh. Bad joke." Behind a nearby gravestone she goes immediately. "Are you an arcanist, by any chance?"
Sophie does pull up her phone to send out a quick 'merry christmas' text even if she's in the middle of dying probably. Priorities.
"yep yep," Emmelline says easily, as she hides behind another gravestone not far from Sophie. "Are you? Because these lot, are going to target me very soon here. Making concentrating rather a difficult task."
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.
"Nooope, not even a little bit," Sophie flashes Emmelline a bright, charming smile, as though she can distract away from the important stuff through the sheer force of dimpling at her. "I'm sure you've got this, though. I can, uh, shoot them." She pulls out her revolver, and then immediately yelps aloud when the shockwave comes barreling in, though she's mostly protected by her trusty gravestone, hunching down further behind it.
'I don't think shooting at them would do anything," Emmelline calls from where she's sat, behind the gravestone, taking cover, and making her profile as low as possible. "I remember when lenny thought chucking a grenade at it was the answer. Fortunately he didn't do it, but you know... that kind of stuff doesn't really work," she says with another soft sigh. Reaching in her duffle bag, she takes out a small wooden tablet. Small enough to be held in one hand. Upon the tablet are various carvings, different symbols shapes and runes. She reaches into her duffle once more, taking out a small vial of what appears to be blood, and a glass pipette. She uncorks the vial, and squeezes some of the blood into the pipette. She then begins placing blood on the tablet with great care. Covering some portiongs, whilst avoiding others. If someone weren't looking too closely, they might think she were involved in some weird art form with red paint, and with a pipette, rather than a paint brush."
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.
Sophie winces a little as more ghosts throw ghostly magic around all willy-nilly, reaching up to clasp her hands over her ears for a second. She watches Emmelline do her thing, her brow furrowed, and takes the opportunity while there's a bit of quiet to tiptoe over quickly to share the gravestone with her. "I'll cover you," she promises, watching the blood-tableting with some measure of interest, though with little to no idea of what's going on there. "Just in case."
"Well fortunately for the present," Emmelline says, as she continues her strange piping work, drawing more blood out the vial when needed, "they're more angry at each other than me. There's one particular version of this, where the ghosts actively come after you. So... we'll see."
A ghostly battlemage hurls a ball of fire, deflected mid-air by a phantom knight's shield, causing an explosion that sends searing heat and blinding light across the battlefield.
Sophie lets out a little hum of thought, cautiously peering over from behind the gravestone while Emmelline does her thing, to watch the back-and-forth clash of spirits and ghosts who really should have better thing to do on Christmas. "Well, I'll cover you from--" There's an 'eep', and she quickly ducks down before her hair gets caught on fire, though the heat does bring momentary relief - right up until it gets to be too much. And then, "Oh no," Sophie murmurs, glancing down at the ground where the snow begins to melt, "I hope it doesn't turn into gross mud that's going to ruin my clothes..."
Emmelline doesn't quite know what to say to Sophie's words, so she just continues her work. She is being quite careful and intentional about it. Again, avoiding certain parts of the tablet, whilst others get covered in blood. Though this isn't the easiest of tasks, given the tablet is just a small square, which one could easily hold with one hand. Bigger than the size of one's palm, it's about the size of an old fashioned floppy disc, give or take a little, though not quite so thin as one.
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.
Sophie isn't ritual-savvy enough to appreciate what Emmelline's getting up to, so she instead shifts her efforts towards making sure her clothes aren't being ruined. The hem of her coat is gathered and lifted just enough to keep it from brushing the ground, draped across her lap as she balances on her tiptoes in a delicate squat, eyes widening as yet another wave of heat resounds across the graveyard. "I /knew/ it," comes the mumble after she's ducked down to safety again, cinereal eyes finding the slushy, melting snow across the ground. Thankfully, the cover helps her not get set on fire, and she gives Emmelline a cursory glance just to make sure none of her is on fire either.
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.
Fortunately, given Emmelline is actually sat on the floor, she's down low enough to have avoided the fire and other insundry attacks. "A lot of ritualists do it differently," she makes conversation with Sophie as she continues her work. "Most of them like to either carve things directly say into a gravestone, or many I've seen, will draw things into the dirt. I don't fancy it. I mean one strong wind and a leaf blowing across it, could ruin the pattern," she says chortling. "And hand carving it into the stone seems like so much work. Still others,' she goes on easily, "will take a dagger to their hand or something, to spill the blood. That is so unnecessary, and leaves scars if not done carefully. I tend to prepare my vials of blood beforehand. I can just draw it as anyone else might get their blood drawn at a clinic or something, and pop it into the vials. It's easier that way. Less unintentional spilling of blood, and well... less messier all round. It's why I use the pipette. So as not to get blood on me.""
The howling of wind makes Sophie grimace, as does the large branch that's sent flying with the breeze to come landing /smack/ right into the gravestone she and Emmelline are hiding beneath. Sophie blinks owlishly, shivering just a little bit, but she turns her attention to Emmelline right after, watching and listening even if how much of it she actually absorbs is up for debate. "Sounds like a smart idea," she agrees. "I don't really know why people always cut into their /hand/ - I bet that's a movie thing. It'd be better if you did it like, across the back of your forearm or something, wouldn't it? That seems less likely to make you end up with nerve damage." A pause. "I don't really know anatomy, though. And, I guess, most ritualists are just better at healing, if they're supernatural." She clicks her tongue, thinking about it a little more, and then moves on. "Is it almost done?" It sounds like 'are we there yet?'.
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.
"Not all ritualists are supernatural though," Emmelline says with a nod. She's now finished the weird blood artwork, judging from the empty vial which she places into her duffle along with the pipette. She now begins concentrating on the tablet in front of her. Fortunately, as the generals do their thing, though the earth shakes, given the girl is already on the floor, she is just jostled, but unmoved. As she focuses her mental energies upon the tablet, it begins emitting a faint glow. WEak and intermitent at first, but it grows stronger and stronger with each passing moment. She flips the tablet outward, so the part with the blood on it is facing the ghosts. As the glow gets stronger, it begins having the desired effects on the ghosts. Though it is slow going.
"Most," Sophie agrees. "It comes easier after you're activated, yeah?" That's just hearsay though, Sophie doesn't really sound like she's an expert or anything, just shifting in her place a little uncomfortably as another worrying crack is heard within the gravestone they're hiding out behind. She quietens down right after, watching with slightly wide eyes as Emmelline's tablet starts glowing, eyes flickering between her and the ghosts terrorizing the cemetery.
"I don't know really," Emmelline says with a shrug of her shoulders. And as they speak, the tablet's glow grows stronger, sending out waves of light out at the ghosts. "I mean most would say the way I do things, is nontraditional. You should hear what's her face," she says as she tries to conjure up a name, "oh I can't remember. Elora maybe/ I don't know who else, there were these two women, talking about the way I do rituals. You'd think I'd broken some cardinal rule or something. Even though, the effect is the same."