Patrollogs
Keiths Ghost Banishing 250302
On a chilling morning in Arkwright Cemetery, Keith, amidst rising black mists and sinister smoke monsters, finds himself at the heart of a ghost banishing ritual. As the cemetery air fills with the smell of brimstone and the shapes of horned creatures, Keith, wide-eyed and holding onto a charm, seeks guidance on what to do. Edith, unfazed by the gathering darkness, begins preparing a ritual with herbs and a candle, ready to cut her own flesh for the magic to work. The atmosphere thickens with a palpable sense of dread, smoke monsters chanting in unison, their forms becoming more menacing as they approach. Despite the fear clawing at his resolve, Keith mutters "Not today," his voice a mix of determination and uncertainty, as he tightens his grip on the charm, focusing on the pulse of life within him.
As the ritual progresses, Edith's expertise in necromancy becomes evident, with her blood activating the binding circle and her calm demeanor in the face of the supernatural assault. Keith, clinging to his charm and repeating his mantra, begins to exhibit a subtle defiance against the dark mists attempting to engulf him. Edith, noticing Keith's struggle and the power in his blood-dripped grip on the pendant, completes the ritual, causing the demonic smoke to be sucked into the candle and banished from the cemetery. The alliance between Keith's steadfast courage and Edith's arcane skills proves successful, the smoke monsters disappearing into nothingness, leaving a sense of peace in their wake. Edith, moving to tend to Keith's injuries, reveals a moment of companionship amidst the chaos, symbolizing the endurance of hope and strength in the face of darkness.
(Keith's ghost banishing)
[Sat Mar 1 2025]
On the Sprawling Hillside of Arkwright Cemetery
It is morning, about 12F(-11C) degrees, and the sky is covered by dark grey stormclouds.
There is the sudden smell of brimstone that fills the area, and along with a rising, black mist: smoke, coiling along the surface of the graveyard. It seems to form strange whorls and shapes, and as they draw close to %n they begin to look more and more like creatures -- horned creatures, with red eyes full of menace.
When the black mist starts to fill the air, coiling is way up from the ground of the graveyard, Keith looks around, wide-eyed, clutching the charm in his hand, his earlier confusion now replaced by a flicker of understanding. His fingers tighten around the charm. "Right... right, okay. I just..." His voice falters for a moment, but then he takes a deep breath, steeling himself, "What should I do?"
As the smoke begins to rise, Edith nods. "Ah, these again. How very taxing." Still, Edith steps over to a fallen tombstone and kneels. Producing a blade from her purse, the blond looks to see what Keith has planned before beginning to work; The beginnings of a ritual, herbs, a candle and ready to cut her own flesh for the sake of magic.
From the smoky mist, a circle of hooded figures seem to approach, chanting in unison. At first, they seem to be living people, but as they draw closer to Keith it becomes clear they are smoke monsters themselves. They reach out as their chants increase in volume, and it is as if they are sucking the air out of the lungs of everyone present.
Looking concerned, Keith feels a cold pressure build in his chest as the air thickens, the chant of the smoke figures growing louder with each passing second. His breath comes in shallow gasps, and his grip on the charm tightens, instinctively holding it closer to his heart. The sound of the chant presses in, and the figures draw nearer, their smoky forms shifting and writhing, their shadowy fingers reaching out like tendrils meant to choke the very life out of him. He stares down at the charm, then at the advancing figures, focusing on his own heartbeat, his breath, the pulse of life that exists in him. "Not today," he mutters under his breath, his voice low but firm, a declaration rather than a plea. He lifts his light blue gaze, casting it upon Edith to see what actions she is about to take.
As the spirits manifest into the three hooded arcanists, Edith laughs. There's a look towards Keith, though for her part, Edith is unaffected. She cuts her forearm with her blade; A gash, though when it comes, the blood is tepid, sluggish-- The arcanist cups her palm, then flexes her fingers, the tortion drawing at least a trickle to escape the wound, and as Edith's own blood begins to fall, she lights the candle with a lighter, dips a finger into the slowly pooling blood and begins to ascribe a circle, the herbs arranged within that circle and giving off the scent of sage. Glancing up once more, Edith looks to Keith, though he seems to be doing well enough- Edith's attention returns to the ritualism, leasurely and calm.
A hot wind blows through the cemetery, and with it comes sibilant whispers in the ears of Keith and all their companions: they promise depraved, decadent desires fulfilled, and for a moment that's all anyone can focus on.
The hot wind sweeps through the cemetery, carrying with it the sinister whispers that claw at Keith's thoughts, offering temptations that sound too sweet to ignore. His head spins for a moment, the voices pulling at the edges of his resolve. The promises of indulgence, of satisfaction, whisper into his ear, it seems like there is a mixture of confusion and maybe temptation upon his face. Gripping on the small pendant he carries in his grasp, what it is of impossible to tell as it is clasped tightly in his fist, holding it like his life depends on it. Once again, he utters, "Not today." But this time, it sounds less confident, let sure of himself as Edith words her ritual near him.
The circle now complete, Edith continues her work. It's steady, exacting, something far greater than most rituals that the blond might complete in far less time. In the cemetery however, the phantoms rise en mass, so quite simply, more effort is to follow. The ankh is drawn to the north of the circle, to the east, the scales, the south the tines and the west, the hanged man. It looks practiced, and though Edith's head tilts to one side to listen, there's a grin. Edith has heard all of this before from far stronger and more dangerous beings. A nod is given over to the departing asian, then Edith looks back to Keith. He too is granted a nod, though even wordless as it is, it appears somehow pleased at Keith's words.
As the dark mists roil in the cemetery, Keith and everyone with them are struck with a sudden fear. It's cold and awful, sinking into their heart to make the world seem impossible and alone.
Keith's breath catches in his throat as the fear settles deep within him, a cold weight pressing on his chest, suffocating the air around him. The mist coils tighter, and the world feels suddenly distant, like the ground beneath him is slipping away. The whispers grow louder, insistent, promising him warmth, answers, relief from the fear gnawing at his insides. His grip on the charm falters, his fingers trembling slightly as the cold empties his thoughts, filling him with doubt. Taking a deep breath, the blonde mullet baring man takes a moment, clearing out the emotions that swirl around inside of him, some real, some from the supernatural forces around him. He tightens his grip around the pendant in his hand, the weight of it grounding him as he forces his mind back into focus. Stepping forward, he lifts the pendant higher, holding it out in front of him as if it were a shield, willing the dark mist to recoil. "Not today," he repeats, the words quieter but no less determined. His voice still carries a trace of uncertainty, but its stronger than before.
The mists swirl, though the candle remains lit. Its light is a bastion-- A sage scented sanctuary, and where its subtle flame flickers, so comes a protective calm as warm as its gentle golden glow. The candle itself slowly begins to melt, the white wax tallow dripping downward to the sage around its base upon the fallen tombstone, and Edith makes a motion; A subtle, clawing gesture, though one that is as exacting as the rest of her craft. Edith is used to spirits. She is a mistress of them, and even these whispers-- This solitude is nothing. She continues to work, though she still hisses. This fear does grip her. She simply doesn't let it dictate her. The two, Edith and Keith are withstanding, and that's exactly what they need to do.
A trio of horned smoke-monsters advance out of the mist. They have twisted weapons formed of smoke, and they descend on Keith, howling in an incomrephensible, devilish tongue.
Edith's ritual has begun, it is taking care of itself, and Edith has extra blood with which to work. Squinting, Edith raises her sunglasses, the smoke monsters begin to advance on Keith, and Edith is a necromancer. One of the monsters, the central one turns on its companions in that moment, Keith allowed the time to move or act as the ghost's limbs are puppeted.
As the horned smoke-monsters loom closer, their twisted weapons raised, their howls cutting through the thick fog with unnatural menace, it is obvious that the terror eats at the edges of Keith's resolve. Struggling to keep his calm, "Not today," he mutters again, his voice quiet but unwavering. With each word, the grip on his pendant tightens, and a strange pulse of energy seems to resonate from within it. The faintest glow begins to shimmer around the charm, like a subtle barrier against the darkness. The tiniest of the ritual Keith is performing, it seems to start to make some difference, but whether it is what he intends or just chance. Droplets of blood trickle down from his grip, likely holding onto the charm so hard it has pierced his skin.
As the dark mists roil in the cemetery, Keith and everyone with them are struck with a sudden fear. It's cold and awful, sinking into their heart to make the world seem impossible and alone.
Looking over to Edith and her command of the undead, it doesn't change much for Keith. Keith's blood continues to drip, the warm, steady trickle grounding him in the midst of the overwhelming fear. He can feel the cold dread seeping deeper into his chest, threatening to choke him with its weight, but something stirs inside him, something more than just the fear. The grip on the pendant tightens further, the sharp pain from his pierced skin grounding him in the present moment, not letting the darkness consume him. But then, Keith finds a deeper well of strength. He repeats the words, quieter but more solid this time. "Not today" which seems to have become his mantra this day, the faint glow still lingering from the pendant. Keith steps forward, eyes narrowing with determination. He lifts the pendant higher, the faint, pulsing light, which does seem to start to push back at the dark mist, even if it is only slightly so.
The candle continues to burn, the wax trickling as the tallow melts, its scent joining that of the sage in the cemetery. The ritual is simply waiting to be concluded, though now is not the time. Keith's Litany continues, the words strong and -something- is happening there. That blood catches Edith's attention and Edith licks her lips, though doesn't move. There is a job to do, and Edith is going to do it. The smoke monsters fight each other now, and in time, they return to the roiling miasma of that insidious smoke. Then the fear strikes again, and there is a moment where Edith has to shake her head, though Keith's blood has Edith's attention, a focus.
As the dark mists roil in the cemetery, Keith and everyone with them are struck with a sudden fear. It's cold and awful, sinking into their heart to make the world seem impossible and alone.
The cold fear returns with a crushing force, sinking deeper into Keith's chest, attempting to erode the fragile control he's fought to maintain. The whispers crawl back into his mind, each word more insistent, more desperate than before. The world seems to distort, the shadows growing darker, heavier, as if the very fabric of reality itself is stretching thin. But through it all, Keith's grip on the pendant remains firm. His blood continues to drip, mixing with the weight of the fear, but now, the blood feels like a symbol, a bridge between the physical and the supernatural, the grounding force that keeps him tethered. Keith's breathing steadies despite the oppressive terror. His heart beats in time with the pulsing energy of the pendant, and a slow, simmering sense of defiance builds within him. "Not today," he whispers again, this time with more conviction. He takes another step forward, his eyes focused, a singular goal. Push back the darkness, no matter how much it pulls at him. The faint glow around the pendant flares brighter, pushing the darkness away inch by inch, though its a subtle struggle, the mists slowly folding around it as though testing his resolve. With each step, Keith seems to gain more and more confidence that his efforts are making some difference. So focused in this pursuit, he doesn't notice Edith's interest in his own blood.
The mist's roiling continues, and Keith's blood drips. The candle flickers, the wax melting as the wick burns down. And now is the time. Though the wound inflicted in Edith's arm has already healed, the blood remains, and Edith up-turns her hand, the blood dropping slowly-- Painfully slowly to hit the flame of the candle. There is a hiss as (almost) liquid impacts and is burned away, and the circle triggers. The drawn runes flare, then burn away; The circle blazes with its own bloodlight, and it begins to suck in the smoke, the candle now a nub.
As the ritual works its (literal) magic, Edith stands slowly. She shakes her head, clearing the cobwebs and moves towards Keith. "Your hand." the blond tells the man, the ritual left to finish its job. Then, she reaches into her handbag for a med kit and a bandage.
The smell of smoke seems to peak, and then, with a rush of magical power, it's gone. The smoke monsters in the cemetery disappear, banished -- fading away as wisps of mist in the air around $n.
As the ritual progresses, Edith's expertise in necromancy becomes evident, with her blood activating the binding circle and her calm demeanor in the face of the supernatural assault. Keith, clinging to his charm and repeating his mantra, begins to exhibit a subtle defiance against the dark mists attempting to engulf him. Edith, noticing Keith's struggle and the power in his blood-dripped grip on the pendant, completes the ritual, causing the demonic smoke to be sucked into the candle and banished from the cemetery. The alliance between Keith's steadfast courage and Edith's arcane skills proves successful, the smoke monsters disappearing into nothingness, leaving a sense of peace in their wake. Edith, moving to tend to Keith's injuries, reveals a moment of companionship amidst the chaos, symbolizing the endurance of hope and strength in the face of darkness.
(Keith's ghost banishing)
[Sat Mar 1 2025]
On the Sprawling Hillside of Arkwright Cemetery
It is morning, about 12F(-11C) degrees, and the sky is covered by dark grey stormclouds.
There is the sudden smell of brimstone that fills the area, and along with a rising, black mist: smoke, coiling along the surface of the graveyard. It seems to form strange whorls and shapes, and as they draw close to %n they begin to look more and more like creatures -- horned creatures, with red eyes full of menace.
When the black mist starts to fill the air, coiling is way up from the ground of the graveyard, Keith looks around, wide-eyed, clutching the charm in his hand, his earlier confusion now replaced by a flicker of understanding. His fingers tighten around the charm. "Right... right, okay. I just..." His voice falters for a moment, but then he takes a deep breath, steeling himself, "What should I do?"
As the smoke begins to rise, Edith nods. "Ah, these again. How very taxing." Still, Edith steps over to a fallen tombstone and kneels. Producing a blade from her purse, the blond looks to see what Keith has planned before beginning to work; The beginnings of a ritual, herbs, a candle and ready to cut her own flesh for the sake of magic.
From the smoky mist, a circle of hooded figures seem to approach, chanting in unison. At first, they seem to be living people, but as they draw closer to Keith it becomes clear they are smoke monsters themselves. They reach out as their chants increase in volume, and it is as if they are sucking the air out of the lungs of everyone present.
Looking concerned, Keith feels a cold pressure build in his chest as the air thickens, the chant of the smoke figures growing louder with each passing second. His breath comes in shallow gasps, and his grip on the charm tightens, instinctively holding it closer to his heart. The sound of the chant presses in, and the figures draw nearer, their smoky forms shifting and writhing, their shadowy fingers reaching out like tendrils meant to choke the very life out of him. He stares down at the charm, then at the advancing figures, focusing on his own heartbeat, his breath, the pulse of life that exists in him. "Not today," he mutters under his breath, his voice low but firm, a declaration rather than a plea. He lifts his light blue gaze, casting it upon Edith to see what actions she is about to take.
As the spirits manifest into the three hooded arcanists, Edith laughs. There's a look towards Keith, though for her part, Edith is unaffected. She cuts her forearm with her blade; A gash, though when it comes, the blood is tepid, sluggish-- The arcanist cups her palm, then flexes her fingers, the tortion drawing at least a trickle to escape the wound, and as Edith's own blood begins to fall, she lights the candle with a lighter, dips a finger into the slowly pooling blood and begins to ascribe a circle, the herbs arranged within that circle and giving off the scent of sage. Glancing up once more, Edith looks to Keith, though he seems to be doing well enough- Edith's attention returns to the ritualism, leasurely and calm.
A hot wind blows through the cemetery, and with it comes sibilant whispers in the ears of Keith and all their companions: they promise depraved, decadent desires fulfilled, and for a moment that's all anyone can focus on.
The hot wind sweeps through the cemetery, carrying with it the sinister whispers that claw at Keith's thoughts, offering temptations that sound too sweet to ignore. His head spins for a moment, the voices pulling at the edges of his resolve. The promises of indulgence, of satisfaction, whisper into his ear, it seems like there is a mixture of confusion and maybe temptation upon his face. Gripping on the small pendant he carries in his grasp, what it is of impossible to tell as it is clasped tightly in his fist, holding it like his life depends on it. Once again, he utters, "Not today." But this time, it sounds less confident, let sure of himself as Edith words her ritual near him.
The circle now complete, Edith continues her work. It's steady, exacting, something far greater than most rituals that the blond might complete in far less time. In the cemetery however, the phantoms rise en mass, so quite simply, more effort is to follow. The ankh is drawn to the north of the circle, to the east, the scales, the south the tines and the west, the hanged man. It looks practiced, and though Edith's head tilts to one side to listen, there's a grin. Edith has heard all of this before from far stronger and more dangerous beings. A nod is given over to the departing asian, then Edith looks back to Keith. He too is granted a nod, though even wordless as it is, it appears somehow pleased at Keith's words.
As the dark mists roil in the cemetery, Keith and everyone with them are struck with a sudden fear. It's cold and awful, sinking into their heart to make the world seem impossible and alone.
Keith's breath catches in his throat as the fear settles deep within him, a cold weight pressing on his chest, suffocating the air around him. The mist coils tighter, and the world feels suddenly distant, like the ground beneath him is slipping away. The whispers grow louder, insistent, promising him warmth, answers, relief from the fear gnawing at his insides. His grip on the charm falters, his fingers trembling slightly as the cold empties his thoughts, filling him with doubt. Taking a deep breath, the blonde mullet baring man takes a moment, clearing out the emotions that swirl around inside of him, some real, some from the supernatural forces around him. He tightens his grip around the pendant in his hand, the weight of it grounding him as he forces his mind back into focus. Stepping forward, he lifts the pendant higher, holding it out in front of him as if it were a shield, willing the dark mist to recoil. "Not today," he repeats, the words quieter but no less determined. His voice still carries a trace of uncertainty, but its stronger than before.
The mists swirl, though the candle remains lit. Its light is a bastion-- A sage scented sanctuary, and where its subtle flame flickers, so comes a protective calm as warm as its gentle golden glow. The candle itself slowly begins to melt, the white wax tallow dripping downward to the sage around its base upon the fallen tombstone, and Edith makes a motion; A subtle, clawing gesture, though one that is as exacting as the rest of her craft. Edith is used to spirits. She is a mistress of them, and even these whispers-- This solitude is nothing. She continues to work, though she still hisses. This fear does grip her. She simply doesn't let it dictate her. The two, Edith and Keith are withstanding, and that's exactly what they need to do.
A trio of horned smoke-monsters advance out of the mist. They have twisted weapons formed of smoke, and they descend on Keith, howling in an incomrephensible, devilish tongue.
Edith's ritual has begun, it is taking care of itself, and Edith has extra blood with which to work. Squinting, Edith raises her sunglasses, the smoke monsters begin to advance on Keith, and Edith is a necromancer. One of the monsters, the central one turns on its companions in that moment, Keith allowed the time to move or act as the ghost's limbs are puppeted.
As the horned smoke-monsters loom closer, their twisted weapons raised, their howls cutting through the thick fog with unnatural menace, it is obvious that the terror eats at the edges of Keith's resolve. Struggling to keep his calm, "Not today," he mutters again, his voice quiet but unwavering. With each word, the grip on his pendant tightens, and a strange pulse of energy seems to resonate from within it. The faintest glow begins to shimmer around the charm, like a subtle barrier against the darkness. The tiniest of the ritual Keith is performing, it seems to start to make some difference, but whether it is what he intends or just chance. Droplets of blood trickle down from his grip, likely holding onto the charm so hard it has pierced his skin.
As the dark mists roil in the cemetery, Keith and everyone with them are struck with a sudden fear. It's cold and awful, sinking into their heart to make the world seem impossible and alone.
Looking over to Edith and her command of the undead, it doesn't change much for Keith. Keith's blood continues to drip, the warm, steady trickle grounding him in the midst of the overwhelming fear. He can feel the cold dread seeping deeper into his chest, threatening to choke him with its weight, but something stirs inside him, something more than just the fear. The grip on the pendant tightens further, the sharp pain from his pierced skin grounding him in the present moment, not letting the darkness consume him. But then, Keith finds a deeper well of strength. He repeats the words, quieter but more solid this time. "Not today" which seems to have become his mantra this day, the faint glow still lingering from the pendant. Keith steps forward, eyes narrowing with determination. He lifts the pendant higher, the faint, pulsing light, which does seem to start to push back at the dark mist, even if it is only slightly so.
The candle continues to burn, the wax trickling as the tallow melts, its scent joining that of the sage in the cemetery. The ritual is simply waiting to be concluded, though now is not the time. Keith's Litany continues, the words strong and -something- is happening there. That blood catches Edith's attention and Edith licks her lips, though doesn't move. There is a job to do, and Edith is going to do it. The smoke monsters fight each other now, and in time, they return to the roiling miasma of that insidious smoke. Then the fear strikes again, and there is a moment where Edith has to shake her head, though Keith's blood has Edith's attention, a focus.
As the dark mists roil in the cemetery, Keith and everyone with them are struck with a sudden fear. It's cold and awful, sinking into their heart to make the world seem impossible and alone.
The cold fear returns with a crushing force, sinking deeper into Keith's chest, attempting to erode the fragile control he's fought to maintain. The whispers crawl back into his mind, each word more insistent, more desperate than before. The world seems to distort, the shadows growing darker, heavier, as if the very fabric of reality itself is stretching thin. But through it all, Keith's grip on the pendant remains firm. His blood continues to drip, mixing with the weight of the fear, but now, the blood feels like a symbol, a bridge between the physical and the supernatural, the grounding force that keeps him tethered. Keith's breathing steadies despite the oppressive terror. His heart beats in time with the pulsing energy of the pendant, and a slow, simmering sense of defiance builds within him. "Not today," he whispers again, this time with more conviction. He takes another step forward, his eyes focused, a singular goal. Push back the darkness, no matter how much it pulls at him. The faint glow around the pendant flares brighter, pushing the darkness away inch by inch, though its a subtle struggle, the mists slowly folding around it as though testing his resolve. With each step, Keith seems to gain more and more confidence that his efforts are making some difference. So focused in this pursuit, he doesn't notice Edith's interest in his own blood.
The mist's roiling continues, and Keith's blood drips. The candle flickers, the wax melting as the wick burns down. And now is the time. Though the wound inflicted in Edith's arm has already healed, the blood remains, and Edith up-turns her hand, the blood dropping slowly-- Painfully slowly to hit the flame of the candle. There is a hiss as (almost) liquid impacts and is burned away, and the circle triggers. The drawn runes flare, then burn away; The circle blazes with its own bloodlight, and it begins to suck in the smoke, the candle now a nub.
As the ritual works its (literal) magic, Edith stands slowly. She shakes her head, clearing the cobwebs and moves towards Keith. "Your hand." the blond tells the man, the ritual left to finish its job. Then, she reaches into her handbag for a med kit and a bandage.
The smell of smoke seems to peak, and then, with a rush of magical power, it's gone. The smoke monsters in the cemetery disappear, banished -- fading away as wisps of mist in the air around $n.