Patrollogs
Novels Ghost Banishing 241201
On an eerie afternoon at Arkwright Cemetery, an age-old spectral war resumes with ghostly armies clashing in a tumultuous battlefield. Among the living caught in this otherworldly conflict, Emmelline stands focused, performing a binding ritual with a wooden tablet and blood, aiming to contain the chaos. Novel, with an affinity for the violent skirmish, dives into the heart of battle, his actions causing disarray among the ghostly ranks, while Eric and Sam work on powering a banishment ritual, tapping into the ethereal energies with a mix of dedication and discomfort. Vindicta, despite initial panic, takes a stand with her revolver, firing at the spectral entities with a resolve strengthened by the situation's gravity.
As the battle rages on, the living participants push their limits to contain and banish the spirits. Emmelline's ritual begins to take effect, compelling ghostly soldiers towards a magical triangle where Sam's incantations draw them into an abyss, fueled by his and Eric's life force. Novel's fearless engagement scatters the spectral forces, further aiding the group's effort. Despite being ensnared by spectral vines, each character fights back with their unique strengths - Vindicta cuts through her bindings and continues her assault, Novel breaks free with inhuman strength, and Sam channels his pain into power, commanding the spirits' return to the underworld. In the end, their combined efforts prevail, the spectral forces dissipate, and calm returns to the graveyard, leaving an eerie silence as a testament to their victory.
(Novel's ghost banishing)
[Sat Nov 30 2024]
On the Sprawling Hillside of Arkwright Cemetery
It is afternoon, about 53F(11C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky.
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.
Emmelline sighs as she takes out a small wooden tablet, with various symbols and shapes carved onto it. she also takes out a small vial of blood, attached to a pippett type thing. She begins carefully dripping blood upon the tablet. Tracing certain symbols and shapes, but avoiding others. "I've got the binding ritual," she calls to no one in particular, "if someone can banish it."
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.
Eric groans, watching all the fantasy-looking warriors square up and begin to fight with an annoyed expression. "Someone tell these fuckers America has guns already.." He shakes his head, once, twice, and looks for Sam after listening in to Emmelline "You got that, fam?"
"Oh, damn this one." Sam presses both hands onto the ground, letting out a sigh. "On it."
He seems calm, and nods to Novel. "Ey, Novel, wanna go ham?" A nod is then given to Eric. "Should be relatively easy to open the gate. It's ajar since yesterday." He smiles, and continues to hold one hand against that etched triangle, the other around his focus. "Yeh, got it."
"Banana," Vindicta tells Eric with an amused little smirk. The albino seems relieved to find out that she isn't too late to accompany Novel and those gathered with the banishment. She grins widely when the man opens his arms, darting over to Novel's side and then pressing into him, her arms looping around his waist to squeeze him into a hug. "Novel!!" She chirps his name sweetly, beaming a grin up at him and then waving chipperly over to Emmelline too. "Hi Emmie!" She calls out, though as the fog rolls in, she takes a deep breath, then steels herself as that familiar ethereal battle rages on around her and everyone else. "Okay..."
Novel casually kicks a gravestone as things kick up into high gear, a slow spreading of delight drawing across his features and producing a delighted, wistful sigh as violence begins. "Awwwright. My SECOND fucking favorite." He declares to nobody in particular as he gives Vindicta a quick squeeze and the breath of ice flows from between his lips. "I ALWAYS want to go crazy, Sam. Just some days I fucking can't." And then his knuckles are cracking and he stomps right across the ground, booted feet shattering and sending shards of ice scattering as he charges directly towards the mancers. He disappears into the field of ghosts - and in his wake, chaos follows.
Lines collapsing, a sudden weakness exploited here and there, the violence of the man twisting a ghost entity's three-hundred sixty degrees with his hand and letting them turn into so much fog and mist.
And as he works, space gradually clears, keeping an empty field around the ones working the ritual.
Emmelline continues to drip blood carefully onto her tablet. To someone not looking too closely, it might appear as if she is making art with some red paint. The way she takes care to outline certain symbols and shapes, but avoiding others.
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.
Eric moves to take his place by Sam, fulfilling the second point of that triangle by his presence. "You still gotta catch me up on what happened there, blud. But- later, later.. Super no rush- not with the Warhammer brigade staring us down.." He very much prefers to steer well clear of the battle Novel wades into so gladly, and instead works with Sam on seeing magic suffuse the battlefield proper
Working quickly, Sam nods to Eric, seemingly pleased at the lack of need to instruct him.
"We're using... the godsrealm gate today. As a source of power."
He places his hand flat on the corner of that triangle. "I call the resting place, of the Ascended. The Gate of Gods, the gate of Ascention."
"By the heat of battle, by the flash of steel..." Sam winces, seemingly using the discomfort caused by the wave of heat to fuel his own resolve.
Unlike that of Sam, Emmelline's ritual is more silent, and mentally focused. She continues making her outlines, and when the blood as run out, she focuses her mental powers upon the little wooden tablet, which she holds in both hands. A dim glow emminates from the tablet, but it flickers in and out, its light still quite weak.
Novel is, thankfully, wearing sunglasses, the flash doing little but the sear of heat making him wince and stagger as the ice that's build up around his form from fighting the ghostly ice magickers replaced with a sudden flashing of steam that wreathes him in smoke and mist much like the ghosts themselves. Furthering and obscuring his position, his difference between the entities, as he roars out a violent call before plunging in - joining a charge of berserkers in the side to garrote battlemages and commit himself to mayhem.
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.
"By ancient Oaths, and lost arts..."
Sam's ritual is loud, and clear, perhaps a little like a prayer. Though to nothing in particular.
"By cycles ancient, and now broken." He twists his stance, and presses both hands onto the ground, a dark purple light glowing from the finger-bone on a silver chain around his neck as he does so, his eyes glazing over with a black sheen even as ice replaces heat once again. "Hn..." He nods to Eric, seemingly straining to power the ritual with just his own power.
Eric is perfectly comfortable in Sam's shadow, even as his own grows even longer than he is, and at its feet things curl up to his ankles. The man sinks to a knee in both staying close to the ground, and in remaining wary for anything to perhaps knock him over. A very small nod directs its way toward Sam, and a curl of the fingers sees whatever power Sam draws on affect Eric also, color draining from brown hair and pale skin to the point he looks grayscale more than man in shade.
Stunned into silence is really the only way to describe what happens to Vindicta. For several minutes the explosions and flashes of the battlefield have her eyes going wide and her hands cupping helplessly over her ears. She crushes her eyelids together as she ducks, her breath quickening helplessly. It takes her a long while of being ducked down behind a grave marker before her little head pops up and she looks out at the berserkers that charge towards the mages. Her brows furrow, and after a little longer of trying to calm her nerves, the bitty Deputy reaches down to her hip to caress fingers over the grip of her revolver, a single quickdraw pulling it from its holster shortly before she sends a barrage of bullets careening towards the arcane army.
Emmelline is probably the stillest and most silent out of the bunch, minus Eric perhaps. She continues to pour all her mental focuses into the wooden tablet. Which seems to have an effect, as the glow from the tablet grows, and becomes more steady, and less flickering occurs.
The bersekers have an extra in their charge and mayhem, given a little bit of oomph - a traitorous oomph. As the mancers are cut down, one of the berserkers is shoved into a line of trampling knights, reducing an organized clashing of battle lines into a rapidly devolving mosh pit of ghost violence that extends outwards. Novel pops back next to Vindicta, brushing ice crystals out of his hair and shaking his head a few times. At least he figured out how to get out of the way of the bullets, as he takes cover behind a set of gravestones.
"By loyaly, and Oaths, newly forged and kept..." Sam nods firmly at Eric, before looking into the crowds, eyes looking for Novel.
"By Chaos, in nature unfettered and unleashed..."
As color drains from Eric's form, the triangle starts to slowly shimmer, shadows pouring into it.
"Can ya push them into the traingle, Emme?" He nods firmly to Emmelline, keeping his focus on the ritual, his eyes gleaming as the very darkness around him and Eric seems to shimmer.
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.
'I'm working on it," Emmelline says with a nod to Sam, as she moves towards said triangle. She turns the tablet outwards, so the symbols and the like face the ghosts, and tries to shove them in towards the triangle. her mental energy still focused upn it, causing the glow to become stronger with each passing minute."
Novel pokes back up behind the gravestone after the explosion, sliding out like an oil slick from a cracked concrete drum as he sprints his way back into the crowd, giving Sam a clear view of him and his position. Albeit momentarily, as he hamstrings a ghost horse with a bowie knife, leading it to collapse before it can charge into the ritualists before he plunges once more into the crowd.
A towering, spectral knight swings his sword at a ghostly conjurer, cutting the arcanist in half and continuing onwards to collide against a gravestone. The collision smashes the gravestone apart, sending shards flying all around dangerously.
"You make it all sound so grave, Sam.." Eric speaks while looking on to Emmelline, to her magic, her motions, voice lacking an echo, lacking a shift in tone, so very even as he speaks up. "We are the land of the free. Your God will make it even more true." No color remains on his figure, and his eyes go black in full rather than fading out also, looking nowhere at all while lending Sam's magic - something, of some kind
"Good shit!" Sam nods to Emmelline, placing his palms onto the ground.
"Consume and kill, end and return to dust..."
From the darkness within the triangle, two slitted, yellow eyes seem to poke, fixing upon Emmelline and her slow herding of the spectres into the darkness.
As debris flies, and cuts his cheek, he grins towards Eric, and nods in agreement. "By unchained wills, by paths un-shackles, by the broken chains, and the Will, un-obstructed!" A shift in his tone, and even the air around him, as the carefully gathered darkness starts to shimmer and snake outwards, seemingly trying to drag the ghosts bound by Emmelline's efforts, and thinned out and weakened by Novel and Vindicta's.
Emmelline has no clue what Eric is talking about, and she's so focused in on that tablet, that she doesn't even notice whatever pairs of eyes that may or may not be appearing within the triangle. her eyes only on the tablet, and the ghosts before her as she continues her ministrations.
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.
Eric briefly tightens his grasp on his end of that triangle, and grimaces a second as the veins on his hand blacken with time. He grits his teeth, and doesn't speak up again; the man does try to stave off whatever discomfort sets in, whatever effects that magic has, weathering the presence of all those spirits in the area
Vines- the bane of gunslingers everywhere, but Vindicta has already gotten her daily panic out for the frist ten, maybe fifteen minutes of this ordeal. She feels those thorny brambles ensnare her, but rather than scream, her quick hands follow a motion that they have followed many times before- a trail that leads down to the pocket knife at her hip. "Can do this," she reassures herself with a firm nod of her head, grasping its handle and starting to saw through the vines than have wrapped her up like a petite and pale Christmas present, her thighs burning as she struggles against them to remain upright.
Novel lifts his head up, sniffing the air, picking up on the taste of violence and magic as he works to start funneling the ghosts towards the trap to drag them away - poking in, committing violence, retreating to cover, coaxing - and then, cursing, "MOTHERFUCKER," as he finds his legs and body snared as he struggles and shifts before inhuman strength surges to the fore, simply lunging out of it and snapping free and tumbling away from the hooves of ghosts.
The glow from Emmelline's tablet is quite bright now, as she continues to hold it up to the ghosts, shovving them magicly in the direction of the triangle. Once they step foot from with inside it, they remain there, unable to leave it.
Cut free, Vindicta does not stop firing bullets into the spectral armies. "Keep buy time for bind and banish!!" the albino insists, spreading her outlook from only the arcanists, out to envelop all of the specters present. None of them are safe from her now, each shot fired indiscriminately at ghost, specter, apparition, spirit, and beyond that easily tags each in a vital spot and causes them to quickly disperse.
"Fuckin..." Sam growls, scrambling for his knife as he starts to cut away at the thorns, briefly pausing from his incantations, though the shadows seem to be actively hunting down ghosts that stray close to Sam's rite anyroad. He hisses low, hate and anger in his voice as he does so.
"Oi! Kid, ya okay?" Sam looks towards Eric.
After a brief pause, he plants his hands onto the ground, firmly. "RETURN TO DUAT!" He speaks the words with authority, and a hiss comes from the shadows as long, snaking tendrils lash out and start to draw in spirits rapidly, each lash followed by a wince and a shift of Sam's body, like the lashing is causing him physical pain and discomfort.
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.
As the battle rages on, the living participants push their limits to contain and banish the spirits. Emmelline's ritual begins to take effect, compelling ghostly soldiers towards a magical triangle where Sam's incantations draw them into an abyss, fueled by his and Eric's life force. Novel's fearless engagement scatters the spectral forces, further aiding the group's effort. Despite being ensnared by spectral vines, each character fights back with their unique strengths - Vindicta cuts through her bindings and continues her assault, Novel breaks free with inhuman strength, and Sam channels his pain into power, commanding the spirits' return to the underworld. In the end, their combined efforts prevail, the spectral forces dissipate, and calm returns to the graveyard, leaving an eerie silence as a testament to their victory.
(Novel's ghost banishing)
[Sat Nov 30 2024]
On the Sprawling Hillside of Arkwright Cemetery
It is afternoon, about 53F(11C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky.
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.
Emmelline sighs as she takes out a small wooden tablet, with various symbols and shapes carved onto it. she also takes out a small vial of blood, attached to a pippett type thing. She begins carefully dripping blood upon the tablet. Tracing certain symbols and shapes, but avoiding others. "I've got the binding ritual," she calls to no one in particular, "if someone can banish it."
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.
Eric groans, watching all the fantasy-looking warriors square up and begin to fight with an annoyed expression. "Someone tell these fuckers America has guns already.." He shakes his head, once, twice, and looks for Sam after listening in to Emmelline "You got that, fam?"
"Oh, damn this one." Sam presses both hands onto the ground, letting out a sigh. "On it."
He seems calm, and nods to Novel. "Ey, Novel, wanna go ham?" A nod is then given to Eric. "Should be relatively easy to open the gate. It's ajar since yesterday." He smiles, and continues to hold one hand against that etched triangle, the other around his focus. "Yeh, got it."
"Banana," Vindicta tells Eric with an amused little smirk. The albino seems relieved to find out that she isn't too late to accompany Novel and those gathered with the banishment. She grins widely when the man opens his arms, darting over to Novel's side and then pressing into him, her arms looping around his waist to squeeze him into a hug. "Novel!!" She chirps his name sweetly, beaming a grin up at him and then waving chipperly over to Emmelline too. "Hi Emmie!" She calls out, though as the fog rolls in, she takes a deep breath, then steels herself as that familiar ethereal battle rages on around her and everyone else. "Okay..."
Novel casually kicks a gravestone as things kick up into high gear, a slow spreading of delight drawing across his features and producing a delighted, wistful sigh as violence begins. "Awwwright. My SECOND fucking favorite." He declares to nobody in particular as he gives Vindicta a quick squeeze and the breath of ice flows from between his lips. "I ALWAYS want to go crazy, Sam. Just some days I fucking can't." And then his knuckles are cracking and he stomps right across the ground, booted feet shattering and sending shards of ice scattering as he charges directly towards the mancers. He disappears into the field of ghosts - and in his wake, chaos follows.
Lines collapsing, a sudden weakness exploited here and there, the violence of the man twisting a ghost entity's three-hundred sixty degrees with his hand and letting them turn into so much fog and mist.
And as he works, space gradually clears, keeping an empty field around the ones working the ritual.
Emmelline continues to drip blood carefully onto her tablet. To someone not looking too closely, it might appear as if she is making art with some red paint. The way she takes care to outline certain symbols and shapes, but avoiding others.
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.
Eric moves to take his place by Sam, fulfilling the second point of that triangle by his presence. "You still gotta catch me up on what happened there, blud. But- later, later.. Super no rush- not with the Warhammer brigade staring us down.." He very much prefers to steer well clear of the battle Novel wades into so gladly, and instead works with Sam on seeing magic suffuse the battlefield proper
Working quickly, Sam nods to Eric, seemingly pleased at the lack of need to instruct him.
"We're using... the godsrealm gate today. As a source of power."
He places his hand flat on the corner of that triangle. "I call the resting place, of the Ascended. The Gate of Gods, the gate of Ascention."
"By the heat of battle, by the flash of steel..." Sam winces, seemingly using the discomfort caused by the wave of heat to fuel his own resolve.
Unlike that of Sam, Emmelline's ritual is more silent, and mentally focused. She continues making her outlines, and when the blood as run out, she focuses her mental powers upon the little wooden tablet, which she holds in both hands. A dim glow emminates from the tablet, but it flickers in and out, its light still quite weak.
Novel is, thankfully, wearing sunglasses, the flash doing little but the sear of heat making him wince and stagger as the ice that's build up around his form from fighting the ghostly ice magickers replaced with a sudden flashing of steam that wreathes him in smoke and mist much like the ghosts themselves. Furthering and obscuring his position, his difference between the entities, as he roars out a violent call before plunging in - joining a charge of berserkers in the side to garrote battlemages and commit himself to mayhem.
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.
"By ancient Oaths, and lost arts..."
Sam's ritual is loud, and clear, perhaps a little like a prayer. Though to nothing in particular.
"By cycles ancient, and now broken." He twists his stance, and presses both hands onto the ground, a dark purple light glowing from the finger-bone on a silver chain around his neck as he does so, his eyes glazing over with a black sheen even as ice replaces heat once again. "Hn..." He nods to Eric, seemingly straining to power the ritual with just his own power.
Eric is perfectly comfortable in Sam's shadow, even as his own grows even longer than he is, and at its feet things curl up to his ankles. The man sinks to a knee in both staying close to the ground, and in remaining wary for anything to perhaps knock him over. A very small nod directs its way toward Sam, and a curl of the fingers sees whatever power Sam draws on affect Eric also, color draining from brown hair and pale skin to the point he looks grayscale more than man in shade.
Stunned into silence is really the only way to describe what happens to Vindicta. For several minutes the explosions and flashes of the battlefield have her eyes going wide and her hands cupping helplessly over her ears. She crushes her eyelids together as she ducks, her breath quickening helplessly. It takes her a long while of being ducked down behind a grave marker before her little head pops up and she looks out at the berserkers that charge towards the mages. Her brows furrow, and after a little longer of trying to calm her nerves, the bitty Deputy reaches down to her hip to caress fingers over the grip of her revolver, a single quickdraw pulling it from its holster shortly before she sends a barrage of bullets careening towards the arcane army.
Emmelline is probably the stillest and most silent out of the bunch, minus Eric perhaps. She continues to pour all her mental focuses into the wooden tablet. Which seems to have an effect, as the glow from the tablet grows, and becomes more steady, and less flickering occurs.
The bersekers have an extra in their charge and mayhem, given a little bit of oomph - a traitorous oomph. As the mancers are cut down, one of the berserkers is shoved into a line of trampling knights, reducing an organized clashing of battle lines into a rapidly devolving mosh pit of ghost violence that extends outwards. Novel pops back next to Vindicta, brushing ice crystals out of his hair and shaking his head a few times. At least he figured out how to get out of the way of the bullets, as he takes cover behind a set of gravestones.
"By loyaly, and Oaths, newly forged and kept..." Sam nods firmly at Eric, before looking into the crowds, eyes looking for Novel.
"By Chaos, in nature unfettered and unleashed..."
As color drains from Eric's form, the triangle starts to slowly shimmer, shadows pouring into it.
"Can ya push them into the traingle, Emme?" He nods firmly to Emmelline, keeping his focus on the ritual, his eyes gleaming as the very darkness around him and Eric seems to shimmer.
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.
'I'm working on it," Emmelline says with a nod to Sam, as she moves towards said triangle. She turns the tablet outwards, so the symbols and the like face the ghosts, and tries to shove them in towards the triangle. her mental energy still focused upn it, causing the glow to become stronger with each passing minute."
Novel pokes back up behind the gravestone after the explosion, sliding out like an oil slick from a cracked concrete drum as he sprints his way back into the crowd, giving Sam a clear view of him and his position. Albeit momentarily, as he hamstrings a ghost horse with a bowie knife, leading it to collapse before it can charge into the ritualists before he plunges once more into the crowd.
A towering, spectral knight swings his sword at a ghostly conjurer, cutting the arcanist in half and continuing onwards to collide against a gravestone. The collision smashes the gravestone apart, sending shards flying all around dangerously.
"You make it all sound so grave, Sam.." Eric speaks while looking on to Emmelline, to her magic, her motions, voice lacking an echo, lacking a shift in tone, so very even as he speaks up. "We are the land of the free. Your God will make it even more true." No color remains on his figure, and his eyes go black in full rather than fading out also, looking nowhere at all while lending Sam's magic - something, of some kind
"Good shit!" Sam nods to Emmelline, placing his palms onto the ground.
"Consume and kill, end and return to dust..."
From the darkness within the triangle, two slitted, yellow eyes seem to poke, fixing upon Emmelline and her slow herding of the spectres into the darkness.
As debris flies, and cuts his cheek, he grins towards Eric, and nods in agreement. "By unchained wills, by paths un-shackles, by the broken chains, and the Will, un-obstructed!" A shift in his tone, and even the air around him, as the carefully gathered darkness starts to shimmer and snake outwards, seemingly trying to drag the ghosts bound by Emmelline's efforts, and thinned out and weakened by Novel and Vindicta's.
Emmelline has no clue what Eric is talking about, and she's so focused in on that tablet, that she doesn't even notice whatever pairs of eyes that may or may not be appearing within the triangle. her eyes only on the tablet, and the ghosts before her as she continues her ministrations.
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.
Eric briefly tightens his grasp on his end of that triangle, and grimaces a second as the veins on his hand blacken with time. He grits his teeth, and doesn't speak up again; the man does try to stave off whatever discomfort sets in, whatever effects that magic has, weathering the presence of all those spirits in the area
Vines- the bane of gunslingers everywhere, but Vindicta has already gotten her daily panic out for the frist ten, maybe fifteen minutes of this ordeal. She feels those thorny brambles ensnare her, but rather than scream, her quick hands follow a motion that they have followed many times before- a trail that leads down to the pocket knife at her hip. "Can do this," she reassures herself with a firm nod of her head, grasping its handle and starting to saw through the vines than have wrapped her up like a petite and pale Christmas present, her thighs burning as she struggles against them to remain upright.
Novel lifts his head up, sniffing the air, picking up on the taste of violence and magic as he works to start funneling the ghosts towards the trap to drag them away - poking in, committing violence, retreating to cover, coaxing - and then, cursing, "MOTHERFUCKER," as he finds his legs and body snared as he struggles and shifts before inhuman strength surges to the fore, simply lunging out of it and snapping free and tumbling away from the hooves of ghosts.
The glow from Emmelline's tablet is quite bright now, as she continues to hold it up to the ghosts, shovving them magicly in the direction of the triangle. Once they step foot from with inside it, they remain there, unable to leave it.
Cut free, Vindicta does not stop firing bullets into the spectral armies. "Keep buy time for bind and banish!!" the albino insists, spreading her outlook from only the arcanists, out to envelop all of the specters present. None of them are safe from her now, each shot fired indiscriminately at ghost, specter, apparition, spirit, and beyond that easily tags each in a vital spot and causes them to quickly disperse.
"Fuckin..." Sam growls, scrambling for his knife as he starts to cut away at the thorns, briefly pausing from his incantations, though the shadows seem to be actively hunting down ghosts that stray close to Sam's rite anyroad. He hisses low, hate and anger in his voice as he does so.
"Oi! Kid, ya okay?" Sam looks towards Eric.
After a brief pause, he plants his hands onto the ground, firmly. "RETURN TO DUAT!" He speaks the words with authority, and a hiss comes from the shadows as long, snaking tendrils lash out and start to draw in spirits rapidly, each lash followed by a wince and a shift of Sam's body, like the lashing is causing him physical pain and discomfort.
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.