Patrollogs
Nikolais Ghost Banishing 240627
On a hauntingly warm night at Arkwright Cemetery, Nikolai and Meredith found themselves face to face with a trio of ghastly specters, dressed in an eerie amalgamation of ballroom and pirate attire, armed and ready for a spectral skirmish. These ghosts, wielding flintlock pistols, a cutlass, and sharp knives, launched into an attack, plunging Nikolai and Meredith into a defensive stance. Nikolai, unfazed by the ethereal assailants, invoked the power of his bloodline, causing his hammer to glow with a fierce heat, while Meredith, though professing a lack of magical expertise, stood ready to join the battle with her own strengths. As the fight escalated, Nikolai's tactics of channeling fiery energy into the earth beneath them to weaken the spirits showcased his unique approach to combat, blending physical might with an element of the supernatural. Despite being physically untouched, Nikolau felt the burn of the ghostly gunfire, signaling the dangerous reality of their spectral foes.
The battle reached its climax as the spirits, seemingly fueled by an endless source of energy, continued their relentless assault. Nikolai, brushing off the pain of the ghostly bullets with a mix of annoyance and resilience, formulated a plan to use heated stones as incendiary projectiles, a strategy that highlighted both his creativity and his ability to adapt. Meredith, for her part, demonstrated her quick wit and readiness to support, launching these heated stones at their adversaries with precision. The spectral pirates' relentless attacks, coupled with their ability to fire an endless barrage of bullets, pushed the duo to their limits, prompting them to take cover and reassess their strategy. In a final, dramatic effort, Nikolai and Meredith combined their strength and resourcefulness, forcing the spirits into a convulsive state before they ultimately vanished into the ground, leaving behind a silence that spoke volumes of the night's harrowing encounter. This conclusion not only marked the end of the spectral skirmish but also showcased the resilience, ingenuity, and unlikely partnership between a vampire and a mortal warrior in the face of unyielding ghostly adversaries.
(Nikolai's ghost banishing)
[Wed Jun 26 2024]
On the Sprawling Hillside of Arkwright Cemetery
It is night, about 93F(33C) degrees, There is a waning gibbous moon.
A haunting piano melody suddenly creeps over the graveyard as one by one, three spectral forms raise up into sight. Each is somewhat decayed and dressed in a mix of ballroom gown and old pirate garb, one wields a pair of flintlock pistols, another a wicked cutlass and the third a pair of sharp looking knives.
Meridith shrugs. "Well I don't typically do that kind of stuff. Not interesting," she admits freely. "I'm a direct kinda gal."
The cutlass-wielder attacks Nikolai, driving him back as the flintlock lady appears behind him, using the distraction to go through his pockets.
Meridith watches as the spirits rise, frowning. "The dead have no more stake in this world. An echo of a life that ended. They're a mockery of their former selves." She gives Nikolai a look. "Not the same, mind you, even if you hate what I am."
"You are young," Nikolai says, nodding his head. He turns to eye each spectre in turn, then announces, "In case you cannot see them. We have... ballroom pirates, it would seem. One is a gunner, one a swordsman, and one has some pissy little knives." He grips his hammer tight with both hands and exhales with a burst of heat, and the maul's head begins to glow like a burning coal. He grunts with frustration as the swashbuckler takes the opportunity to attack him, swinging the burning hammer up and around to ward away those probing pick-pocket's fingers. "Back," he grumbles, then begins to chant in Russian - invoking the power of his bloodline, probably.
Meridith nods. "I've fought with them a half dozen times," she gazes at him. "Beckon it as you need. I'll be alright." She shifts back a few steps and readies herself for the melee. "They'll focus entirely on you," she warns him. "Let me know how you'd like me to assist."
If the night was warm before, the furnace-fires of Nikolai's power make the temperature downright unpleasant. He's certainly not a sorcerer, at least - but fire is hot, no matter how you spin it. He touches his hammer to the funereal earth under his feet, blackening it into slag and coke, then scuffs the earth up into the air, passing the debris through the ethereal figures surrounding him and Meridith. "The same spirits keep coming back so stubbornly?" he asks in a grunt. "Haven is more haunted than I had heard. Commendable that you were here to deal with the issue."
Nikolai's shoulder suddenly burns as the flicklock wielder materializes long enough to fire a shot into him, there's no visible wound.
Meridith blinks, gazing at Nikolai with a kind of quiet awe. The fire is intense, but she can weather it, even if flames and her aren't friends. But then, who is? Other than, you know, massive statue-esque demi-god of the forge warriors. She blinks and nods. "I suspect they are powered by the Eidolon the Spears fight. So long as they exist, the spirits will come back, again and again." She turns her gaze back to the spirits. Flicking a rock through the one that shoots him telekinetically.
"Blyat," Nikolai swears, instinctively shifting away from the musketeer as he peers down at his apparently unharmed shoulder. "Fucking ghosts. Disperse back into the soil that bore you. Go on." He shovels some more slaggy, cokey earth to the figures - trying to take parcels of their energy back down to the ground as they fall, maybe. "So - what is your usual technique?" He pauses, watching a rock propel itself through the spirit, then says, "Oh. Hey, I have an idea. Collect some rocks into a pile. I will get them nice and hot for you." He waggles his eyebrows. "Fireworks. Or just ammo for you. Whatever."
Meridith shrugs and nods to Nikolai. "Well, I lack much magical experience, but these ghosts are like any other spirits. They project powerfully, but their stamina runs out. I mostly just...play, I guess. Act the role sometimes. Others sing songs, throw salt. I spar, usually. Till they exhaust themselves and the music stops." She does a little stage bow. "The more energy sent into them, might help." She tosses a big rock towards him, with some force. "Batters up."
Nikolai's shoulder suddenly burns as the flicklock wielder materializes long enough to fire a shot into him, there's no visible wound.
Nikolai's hammer burns a little brighter and he swings the hammer into the chunky stone - was that some poor bastard's broken gravestone? - midair, shattering it into fragments which drop to the ground. He points his hammer at them, mutters something in Russian, and a blazing gout of flame whooses forth, burning the grass and soil up as the stones begin to bake, and bake, and bake - rapidly turning into a pile of burning coals, themselves. "Okay," he nods. "Fire aw- FUCK!" He swears again as he gets shot in the fucking shoulder again - same damn spot. "Fucking ghosts. They can't learn new tricks. Always the same annoying shit."
Meridith stares at Nikolai, whistling. She offers a brief scattering of applause as the strike scatters the ghosts at least temporarily. She blinks as he's shot swearing and moving over, despitte the heat sweltering. "You alright?" she asks. "It's just spectral, even if it does suck, you'll be okay," she promises. Then frowns, looking to spirits. "We're making it, slowly but surely," she tells him.
"Da, I'm fine," Nikolai huffs, pausing with the stone-baking to rub at his shoulder. "I just hate getting shot. I know; very uncommon." He flashes a wide grin, then nods over to Meridith. "Fire away. Now the vampire gets to use the incendiary ammo. I'm sure the irony is enjoyable." He returns to his chanting, taking a ready stance - he seems more intent on keeping the spirits /away/ with his hammer, rather than just chasing them around and clobbering them.
The three spirits surround Nikolai, attacking and harrying him from all sides.
Nikolai says "Cyka /blyat/."
Meridith shrugs gently. "I've only been a vampire for a couple weeks. And fire is fire, like all things, a tool." She moves to assist. She fires off rocks trying to force them back from him with wide grins.
Nikolai continues to complain as he works, which apparently is just his regular way of functioning. "Spectres always take too damn long," he asserts, summoning up spiked plate armour to shield himself from Meridith's onslaught of burning coals as they blast the spirits back away from him. "Spasibo," he mutters, then - just for pettiness' sake - swings his foot up into the swordsman's ghostly nuts. His boot just passes through the thing, though, which is a great letdown.
The flintlock wielder unleashes a stream of spectral bullets, somehow not needing to reload as the group is forces to drop to the ground to avoid getting struck.
Meridith shrugs. "All they got is time," she tells him plainly. She goes to warn him of the ineffectual nature of his armor, when it blocks her own heat. She waves sheepishly. "All set!" She insists, then blinks as they open fire. "Ah, shit!" She exclaims dropping low for a moment. "Love those semi-auto blunderbusses, assholes, stay consistent with your meta-cognition for like, five fucking seconds!"
"Hah hah hah, the bitch is copying you," Nikolai retorts, now confident in the effectiveness in his armour at pinging away stones and stuff right as he gets shot about ten times with smooth bore iron balls. Ouch. "Blyat," he grunts again, which is apparently a very versatile word that can be employed in any situation. "Fuck. Ow." There, he /is/ bilingual - swearing in two languages is allowed.
Meridith lets out a grimace. "Listen, they don't...injure but they do hurt!" She insists to him, trying to tug him to take cover. She scowls. "No need to play tough guy, dumbass, they're ghosts!"
The cutlass-wielder attacks Nikolai, driving him back as the flintlock lady appears behind him, using the distraction to go through his pockets.
"Look at the fucking size of me," Nikolai complains, taking a half-step away from Meridith as the swordsman once again takes the opportunity to try and stab him in the kidney, the rotten bastard. "I'm like... target practice for a baby's first shooting contest." This time he does whip around to crack the divine fire of his hammer into the side of the pickpocket's skull - which might not be quite as effective as on a real, physical person, but the energies in it do convey some of that impact, nonetheless.
Meridith blinks, having perhaps been the recipient of that blow once before she winces. "Lay down maybe! Goodness, you big guys never know how to get small when you need it do you!" She scowls and pivots, flicking another shard of rock from some destroyed tomb stone toward them to assistt with the other then nods. "It's about time to wrap up!" She shouts
The three spirits begin to convulse and shake, they quickly move to grip each other, forming a tight circle as they spin faster and faster, strange orchestral music flowing through the air from nowhere before suddenly they are sucked down into the ground and vanish.
The battle reached its climax as the spirits, seemingly fueled by an endless source of energy, continued their relentless assault. Nikolai, brushing off the pain of the ghostly bullets with a mix of annoyance and resilience, formulated a plan to use heated stones as incendiary projectiles, a strategy that highlighted both his creativity and his ability to adapt. Meredith, for her part, demonstrated her quick wit and readiness to support, launching these heated stones at their adversaries with precision. The spectral pirates' relentless attacks, coupled with their ability to fire an endless barrage of bullets, pushed the duo to their limits, prompting them to take cover and reassess their strategy. In a final, dramatic effort, Nikolai and Meredith combined their strength and resourcefulness, forcing the spirits into a convulsive state before they ultimately vanished into the ground, leaving behind a silence that spoke volumes of the night's harrowing encounter. This conclusion not only marked the end of the spectral skirmish but also showcased the resilience, ingenuity, and unlikely partnership between a vampire and a mortal warrior in the face of unyielding ghostly adversaries.
(Nikolai's ghost banishing)
[Wed Jun 26 2024]
On the Sprawling Hillside of Arkwright Cemetery
It is night, about 93F(33C) degrees, There is a waning gibbous moon.
A haunting piano melody suddenly creeps over the graveyard as one by one, three spectral forms raise up into sight. Each is somewhat decayed and dressed in a mix of ballroom gown and old pirate garb, one wields a pair of flintlock pistols, another a wicked cutlass and the third a pair of sharp looking knives.
Meridith shrugs. "Well I don't typically do that kind of stuff. Not interesting," she admits freely. "I'm a direct kinda gal."
The cutlass-wielder attacks Nikolai, driving him back as the flintlock lady appears behind him, using the distraction to go through his pockets.
Meridith watches as the spirits rise, frowning. "The dead have no more stake in this world. An echo of a life that ended. They're a mockery of their former selves." She gives Nikolai a look. "Not the same, mind you, even if you hate what I am."
"You are young," Nikolai says, nodding his head. He turns to eye each spectre in turn, then announces, "In case you cannot see them. We have... ballroom pirates, it would seem. One is a gunner, one a swordsman, and one has some pissy little knives." He grips his hammer tight with both hands and exhales with a burst of heat, and the maul's head begins to glow like a burning coal. He grunts with frustration as the swashbuckler takes the opportunity to attack him, swinging the burning hammer up and around to ward away those probing pick-pocket's fingers. "Back," he grumbles, then begins to chant in Russian - invoking the power of his bloodline, probably.
Meridith nods. "I've fought with them a half dozen times," she gazes at him. "Beckon it as you need. I'll be alright." She shifts back a few steps and readies herself for the melee. "They'll focus entirely on you," she warns him. "Let me know how you'd like me to assist."
If the night was warm before, the furnace-fires of Nikolai's power make the temperature downright unpleasant. He's certainly not a sorcerer, at least - but fire is hot, no matter how you spin it. He touches his hammer to the funereal earth under his feet, blackening it into slag and coke, then scuffs the earth up into the air, passing the debris through the ethereal figures surrounding him and Meridith. "The same spirits keep coming back so stubbornly?" he asks in a grunt. "Haven is more haunted than I had heard. Commendable that you were here to deal with the issue."
Nikolai's shoulder suddenly burns as the flicklock wielder materializes long enough to fire a shot into him, there's no visible wound.
Meridith blinks, gazing at Nikolai with a kind of quiet awe. The fire is intense, but she can weather it, even if flames and her aren't friends. But then, who is? Other than, you know, massive statue-esque demi-god of the forge warriors. She blinks and nods. "I suspect they are powered by the Eidolon the Spears fight. So long as they exist, the spirits will come back, again and again." She turns her gaze back to the spirits. Flicking a rock through the one that shoots him telekinetically.
"Blyat," Nikolai swears, instinctively shifting away from the musketeer as he peers down at his apparently unharmed shoulder. "Fucking ghosts. Disperse back into the soil that bore you. Go on." He shovels some more slaggy, cokey earth to the figures - trying to take parcels of their energy back down to the ground as they fall, maybe. "So - what is your usual technique?" He pauses, watching a rock propel itself through the spirit, then says, "Oh. Hey, I have an idea. Collect some rocks into a pile. I will get them nice and hot for you." He waggles his eyebrows. "Fireworks. Or just ammo for you. Whatever."
Meridith shrugs and nods to Nikolai. "Well, I lack much magical experience, but these ghosts are like any other spirits. They project powerfully, but their stamina runs out. I mostly just...play, I guess. Act the role sometimes. Others sing songs, throw salt. I spar, usually. Till they exhaust themselves and the music stops." She does a little stage bow. "The more energy sent into them, might help." She tosses a big rock towards him, with some force. "Batters up."
Nikolai's shoulder suddenly burns as the flicklock wielder materializes long enough to fire a shot into him, there's no visible wound.
Nikolai's hammer burns a little brighter and he swings the hammer into the chunky stone - was that some poor bastard's broken gravestone? - midair, shattering it into fragments which drop to the ground. He points his hammer at them, mutters something in Russian, and a blazing gout of flame whooses forth, burning the grass and soil up as the stones begin to bake, and bake, and bake - rapidly turning into a pile of burning coals, themselves. "Okay," he nods. "Fire aw- FUCK!" He swears again as he gets shot in the fucking shoulder again - same damn spot. "Fucking ghosts. They can't learn new tricks. Always the same annoying shit."
Meridith stares at Nikolai, whistling. She offers a brief scattering of applause as the strike scatters the ghosts at least temporarily. She blinks as he's shot swearing and moving over, despitte the heat sweltering. "You alright?" she asks. "It's just spectral, even if it does suck, you'll be okay," she promises. Then frowns, looking to spirits. "We're making it, slowly but surely," she tells him.
"Da, I'm fine," Nikolai huffs, pausing with the stone-baking to rub at his shoulder. "I just hate getting shot. I know; very uncommon." He flashes a wide grin, then nods over to Meridith. "Fire away. Now the vampire gets to use the incendiary ammo. I'm sure the irony is enjoyable." He returns to his chanting, taking a ready stance - he seems more intent on keeping the spirits /away/ with his hammer, rather than just chasing them around and clobbering them.
The three spirits surround Nikolai, attacking and harrying him from all sides.
Nikolai says "Cyka /blyat/."
Meridith shrugs gently. "I've only been a vampire for a couple weeks. And fire is fire, like all things, a tool." She moves to assist. She fires off rocks trying to force them back from him with wide grins.
Nikolai continues to complain as he works, which apparently is just his regular way of functioning. "Spectres always take too damn long," he asserts, summoning up spiked plate armour to shield himself from Meridith's onslaught of burning coals as they blast the spirits back away from him. "Spasibo," he mutters, then - just for pettiness' sake - swings his foot up into the swordsman's ghostly nuts. His boot just passes through the thing, though, which is a great letdown.
The flintlock wielder unleashes a stream of spectral bullets, somehow not needing to reload as the group is forces to drop to the ground to avoid getting struck.
Meridith shrugs. "All they got is time," she tells him plainly. She goes to warn him of the ineffectual nature of his armor, when it blocks her own heat. She waves sheepishly. "All set!" She insists, then blinks as they open fire. "Ah, shit!" She exclaims dropping low for a moment. "Love those semi-auto blunderbusses, assholes, stay consistent with your meta-cognition for like, five fucking seconds!"
"Hah hah hah, the bitch is copying you," Nikolai retorts, now confident in the effectiveness in his armour at pinging away stones and stuff right as he gets shot about ten times with smooth bore iron balls. Ouch. "Blyat," he grunts again, which is apparently a very versatile word that can be employed in any situation. "Fuck. Ow." There, he /is/ bilingual - swearing in two languages is allowed.
Meridith lets out a grimace. "Listen, they don't...injure but they do hurt!" She insists to him, trying to tug him to take cover. She scowls. "No need to play tough guy, dumbass, they're ghosts!"
The cutlass-wielder attacks Nikolai, driving him back as the flintlock lady appears behind him, using the distraction to go through his pockets.
"Look at the fucking size of me," Nikolai complains, taking a half-step away from Meridith as the swordsman once again takes the opportunity to try and stab him in the kidney, the rotten bastard. "I'm like... target practice for a baby's first shooting contest." This time he does whip around to crack the divine fire of his hammer into the side of the pickpocket's skull - which might not be quite as effective as on a real, physical person, but the energies in it do convey some of that impact, nonetheless.
Meridith blinks, having perhaps been the recipient of that blow once before she winces. "Lay down maybe! Goodness, you big guys never know how to get small when you need it do you!" She scowls and pivots, flicking another shard of rock from some destroyed tomb stone toward them to assistt with the other then nods. "It's about time to wrap up!" She shouts
The three spirits begin to convulse and shake, they quickly move to grip each other, forming a tight circle as they spin faster and faster, strange orchestral music flowing through the air from nowhere before suddenly they are sucked down into the ground and vanish.