Patrollogs
(Antoinette's decursing attempt)
[Mon Apr 7 2025]
At The Trove Barcade
This room is dominated by a sprawling, weathered bar. The bar's surface, polished to a high sheen, is inlaid with a mosaic of colorful sea glass, glinting in the dim, lantern-like lighting.
The walls, painted a deep, oceanic blue, are adorned with an eclectic assortment of nautical paraphernalia. Aged maps, and faded flags are interspersed with vintage arcade game marquees. The ceiling, draped with tattered sails and thick, knotted ropes, gives the impression of being below deck on a ship.
In the corners of the room, clusters of arcade games flicker and beep, their colorful screens casting a kaleidoscope of light onto the wooden floorboards. The air is filled with the clatter of pinball machines, the electronic melodies of video games, and the occasional thud of an axe hitting its target.
Behind the bar, a vast array of bottles is displayed, their contents ranging from craft beers to exotic rums. The bartenders, dressed in pirate garb, deftly mix cocktails, their movements punctuated by the clink of glass and the hiss of a freshly opened beer.
North/South: Restrooms
Northeast: Games
East: Axe Throwing
Southeast: Competitive Games
Down: Laser Tag
It is afternoon, about 68F(20C) degrees,
Sam says "Yo! "
Sam says "Seems it's just us. Coming?"
Sam says "Figure I'd do it here."
"It's one of the more convenient shrines." Sam smiles a little, and nods to Antoinette. "Ready?"
Sam says "Not quite ready. But yeah."
Sam says "Busy, bit annoyed."
A sigh, and Sam shakes his head. "Tsubaki need to be curbed."
"I'll see what I can do to utterly destroy them sometime." Sam stretches, and scowls some. "Though they did drive Ruprecht to us. But still."
Simularly, Sam pulls out his knife, and smiles as he cuts across his cheek. "He is a tool. But he is loyal. Both out of his free will... and a failsafe I put in." The blood starts to seep into the grate below, slowly filling the ritual triangle below. Sam, meanwhile, takes place at one of the points of the triangle as he places the hand holding a bone dagger onto the floor, bracing. "Let's go."
Antoinette exhales a chuckle, reopening the scar on her palm as she kneels at another point of the triangle, letting her blood start to pool and mingle with Sam's as she speaks in Gaelic. "We bring an offering to you, Obsidian. To fuel you."
Kneeling down, Sam speaks, his voice echoing through the room. "By Blood, Will and Devotion, we Thee invoke..." Sam clenches his hand around that bone dagger, and he growls, glaring a baleful stare at the item.
For several seconds the room grows painfully cold.
"By Blood, Will and Devotion, we Offer." Antoinette exhales a cold breath on the tail end of her words, shuddering. The one time she doesn't have a coat. Alas. She grits her teeth, focusing in on the object and the moment and trying to ignore the lingering cold.
As Sam's breath clouds from his lips, he speaks, his voice laced with distaste. "We offer to thee, Maw of Duat, Herald of Isfet..." He shivers some, the walls around them starting to shimmer as a familiar presence seems to be wakening.
Growing air pressure makes your ear's pop uncomfortably and deadens all sound.
Antoinette lifts her eyes up briefly and then back down to the dagger. "Take the power from this dagger. Fuel your-" She grimaces with the air pressure popping. "Fuel yourself. Grow your power." She speaks but it comes out staggered, like she isn't even sure she's speaking for a moment, but keeps pushing through.
A shift, and Sam hisses. He seems to grab something from the air, and he continues speaking, using his own knife to cut into that palm that is holding the dagger. "Through our desire and will, weaken the magic. Re-weave, and gorge." He chuckles lightly, and shakes his head. "Devour the weak, and make them suffer..."
For several seconds the room grows painfully cold.
"Devour the weak and make them suffer." Antoinette echoes with a low scowl, free hand curling into a fist against the cold. "Turn them into power for yours-self, and our purpose."
Sam says, quietly, "Good evening. Be available in a moment."
A brief moment, and Sam speaks into his ear-piece. Then, his attention goes back to the ritual at hand. "The gates approach rapidly." Sam pauses, and wets his lips. "Ward the gates, protect the faithfull..." He chuckles, cruely. "And destroy the faithless."
The whole room shakes.
Antoinette closes her eyes, shifting back to speaking in Gaelic, hands pressing firmly to the ground as the room shakes. "Destroy the faithless. Protect the Faithful. Let the Faithless feel your wrath and regret their wayward thoughts."
After a pause, Sam slams that bone dagger into the center of the triangle, the room going quiet for just a few moments before a soft rustle and a swooping whistle sound through the air, the shadows devouring the dagger and Sam's hand both.
With a final burst of power the curse on a bone dagger is broken.
Sams Decursing Attempt 250409
(Antoinette's decursing attempt)
[Mon Apr 7 2025]
At The Trove Barcade
This room is dominated by a sprawling, weathered bar. The bar's surface, polished to a high sheen, is inlaid with a mosaic of colorful sea glass, glinting in the dim, lantern-like lighting.
The walls, painted a deep, oceanic blue, are adorned with an eclectic assortment of nautical paraphernalia. Aged maps, and faded flags are interspersed with vintage arcade game marquees. The ceiling, draped with tattered sails and thick, knotted ropes, gives the impression of being below deck on a ship.
In the corners of the room, clusters of arcade games flicker and beep, their colorful screens casting a kaleidoscope of light onto the wooden floorboards. The air is filled with the clatter of pinball machines, the electronic melodies of video games, and the occasional thud of an axe hitting its target.
Behind the bar, a vast array of bottles is displayed, their contents ranging from craft beers to exotic rums. The bartenders, dressed in pirate garb, deftly mix cocktails, their movements punctuated by the clink of glass and the hiss of a freshly opened beer.
North/South: Restrooms
Northeast: Games
East: Axe Throwing
Southeast: Competitive Games
Down: Laser Tag
It is afternoon, about 68F(20C) degrees,
Sam says "Yo! "
Sam says "Seems it's just us. Coming?"
Sam says "Figure I'd do it here."
"It's one of the more convenient shrines." Sam smiles a little, and nods to Antoinette. "Ready?"
Sam says "Not quite ready. But yeah."
Sam says "Busy, bit annoyed."
A sigh, and Sam shakes his head. "Tsubaki need to be curbed."
"I'll see what I can do to utterly destroy them sometime." Sam stretches, and scowls some. "Though they did drive Ruprecht to us. But still."
Simularly, Sam pulls out his knife, and smiles as he cuts across his cheek. "He is a tool. But he is loyal. Both out of his free will... and a failsafe I put in." The blood starts to seep into the grate below, slowly filling the ritual triangle below. Sam, meanwhile, takes place at one of the points of the triangle as he places the hand holding a bone dagger onto the floor, bracing. "Let's go."
Antoinette exhales a chuckle, reopening the scar on her palm as she kneels at another point of the triangle, letting her blood start to pool and mingle with Sam's as she speaks in Gaelic. "We bring an offering to you, Obsidian. To fuel you."
Kneeling down, Sam speaks, his voice echoing through the room. "By Blood, Will and Devotion, we Thee invoke..." Sam clenches his hand around that bone dagger, and he growls, glaring a baleful stare at the item.
For several seconds the room grows painfully cold.
"By Blood, Will and Devotion, we Offer." Antoinette exhales a cold breath on the tail end of her words, shuddering. The one time she doesn't have a coat. Alas. She grits her teeth, focusing in on the object and the moment and trying to ignore the lingering cold.
As Sam's breath clouds from his lips, he speaks, his voice laced with distaste. "We offer to thee, Maw of Duat, Herald of Isfet..." He shivers some, the walls around them starting to shimmer as a familiar presence seems to be wakening.
Growing air pressure makes your ear's pop uncomfortably and deadens all sound.
Antoinette lifts her eyes up briefly and then back down to the dagger. "Take the power from this dagger. Fuel your-" She grimaces with the air pressure popping. "Fuel yourself. Grow your power." She speaks but it comes out staggered, like she isn't even sure she's speaking for a moment, but keeps pushing through.
A shift, and Sam hisses. He seems to grab something from the air, and he continues speaking, using his own knife to cut into that palm that is holding the dagger. "Through our desire and will, weaken the magic. Re-weave, and gorge." He chuckles lightly, and shakes his head. "Devour the weak, and make them suffer..."
For several seconds the room grows painfully cold.
"Devour the weak and make them suffer." Antoinette echoes with a low scowl, free hand curling into a fist against the cold. "Turn them into power for yours-self, and our purpose."
Sam says, quietly, "Good evening. Be available in a moment."
A brief moment, and Sam speaks into his ear-piece. Then, his attention goes back to the ritual at hand. "The gates approach rapidly." Sam pauses, and wets his lips. "Ward the gates, protect the faithfull..." He chuckles, cruely. "And destroy the faithless."
The whole room shakes.
Antoinette closes her eyes, shifting back to speaking in Gaelic, hands pressing firmly to the ground as the room shakes. "Destroy the faithless. Protect the Faithful. Let the Faithless feel your wrath and regret their wayward thoughts."
After a pause, Sam slams that bone dagger into the center of the triangle, the room going quiet for just a few moments before a soft rustle and a swooping whistle sound through the air, the shadows devouring the dagger and Sam's hand both.
With a final burst of power the curse on a bone dagger is broken.