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Sams Ghost Banishing 241221
On a chilly afternoon in Arkwright Cemetery, a team led by Sam sets out to banish the ghosts haunting the area, confronting ominous signs of supernatural presence. As they prepare the ritual, a dark, brimstone-filled mist materializes, creating apparitions of demonic creatures that challenge the group. Novel, Illyana, and Isolde each step into their roles fiercely; Novel with his blade and brute force, Illyana with her engulfing flames, and Isolde with calculated shots from her Glock. Despite the initial wave of hellish creatures attempting to thwart their efforts, including a menacing hellhound, the team manages to hold their ground, driven by a mix of violence, mayhem, and a sprinkle of vanity from Illyana, who can't resist a moment to admire herself even amid chaos.
As the ritual reaches its climax, the atmosphere intensifies with evil laughter and seductive whispers promising dark desires, testing the resolve of Sam and his companions. In a desperate push against the overwhelming forces, Sam, embodying the role of the arcanist, calls upon the "Maw of Duat" to unleash chaos and bring about the banishment. Despite being visibly weakened by the ritual's demands and the teammates grappling with their inner demons and fear incarnate, the group's efforts culminate in the successful dispelling of the smoke monsters. With the darkness receding and their adversaries vanquished, the cemetery is left in eerie silence, the once menacing mist fading away, signaling the end of their ghostly confrontation and the restoration of peace, albeit momentarily.
(Sam's ghost banishing)
[Fri Dec 20 2024]
On the Sprawling Hillside of Arkwright Cemetery
It is afternoon, about 22F(-5C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky.
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.
Slowly moving to the center of the hillside, Sam draws his blade, an eerie, oily-black kris, across the palm of his hand. He slowly starts to form a bright scarlet triangle, his free hand clutched around that human finger-bone on his neck as he works. "Try to keep em off of me, yeh?" He nods to Novel, Illyana and Isolde.
There's a good chance that Illyana was going to continue that thought, but then the spirits begin to rise. It's Illyana's favourite, and she grins to Novel. Isolde and Sam are the arcanists here, so that part is left to them, so Illyana snaps her fingers, shrouding herself in fire.
Isolde sighs, pulling the brick-like fashion structure of the Glock from her handbag. She jogs off behind a tree side-scorched from hell, and awaits.
A twisted figure forms out of infernal smoke, shaped like a terrible canine shape. It's a hellhound, leaping towards Sam with an awful snarl. When its mouth closes on %n, it has some phantom force, sending a vision of suffering in hellfire.
Novel flashes a grin to Illyana, excitement rising in his features as violence and mayhem promised. Alas, he has no such special skills. He has himself, his hands, and a knife, and he flicks his sunglasses over to disguise his own malice-filled eyes as he stalks towards the creature that he has so much familiarity with. He doesn't wait - he goes in, plunging the blade and ripping through the side of the hellhound before diving into the smoke proper to plunge into a brawl.
Tumbling right the fuck over from that, Sam yelps as he lands in the center of the ritual shape. He grunts, and after shuddering thoroughly, then pushes to his feet slowly. He goes to stand at one point of the triangle, muttering something under his breath as a shudder goes through his body, the ritual claiming it's toll.
Where Novel begins, Illyana finishes. Pathing to the now wounded hell hound, the phantom creature is bodily torn off of Sam There's no consideration of Sam's safety, it's just a short, sharp, violent rip. Then, Illyana's grip snaps around the upper and lower jaws of the canine, ripping it in two before she too looks for something else to hurt, taking up a guard station between Sam and the smoke propper.
Oh no! Not /n! Isolde, with relative maturity, does not unload on the bounding towards Sam and risk capping anyone else. With a necessary, mathematically meticulous gesture, she draws a simple straight line through the air, a proto-norse Other isaz, and unfurls her fingers towards Novel. A chestplate, unsculpted yet functional, and bracers from wrist to just short of the elbow flashfreeze and unfurls into a dense fog that makes waves on the ground.
For a moment, the dark smoke is still around Sam ... but then a low, evil laughter begins to echo. It takes only a second to realize the laughter is echoing inside the heads of those who fight here, and with it comes a sudden urge to give into everyone's worst sin.
Novel pauses a moment as he finds himself weighed down and and wrapped by ice armor, waggling his hands and fingers and giving an experimental swing through the choking, rotten-egg smelling smoke with a thoughtful huh - and then, glee, splitting his features, as he openly revels in mayhem. Kicking, slashing, movement, violence, surging forwards and swinging his arm as he engages in violent wrath with no regard to who is there - fortunately, having plunged himself into the fog.
Raking his knife through his wound again, Sam heads to the second point of the triangle, speaking soft words, before intoning, louder. "By pain and blood!" He breathes in, seemingly enjoying watching Illyana, Novel and Isolde fight. His eyes flicker, almost going yellowish as a serpentine hiss escapes his mouth. He growls low, then stabs right through the eye-socket of a nearby demon. "Fuck right off!" His voice is a little lower, manic, almost.
Isolde lowers her weapon, chewing on her lip from her tree castle like Helen watching helpless from Troy. She picks her finger bloody as she carves something out into the base.
Ah sin, Illyana knows it well. So as Sam, Novel and Isolde descend in their own ways, Illyana reacts how one might expect; Vainglory. Illyana is nothing if not self-obsessed, so instead of fighting, or guarding Sam's body, the mirror comes out, and she ignores all else for the moment it takes to appreciate herself. But so too is Illyana a creature of habit-- She might be distracted, but the narcissim is fleeting.
Some figure forms in the smoke: tall, it has twisted horns and red eyes. It levels a gnarled finger at Sam, beginning to chant in an unknown language as the air begins to crackle with magic. Immediately, Sam can feel something like a vise closing on their heart.
Illyana likely means narcissism, too
Clutching at his heart, Sam falls to one knee, growling as he looks towards the demon. Gasping, the Jock goes to the third point of the triangle, speaking softly, barely audible. "B-by our Devotion...." He collapses, then, pressing both hands onto that scarlet shape. "Fff..." He manages, as his heart struggles to beat.
As Novel fights on, Sam feels that grip around his heart and Isolde carves into the tree like the teen victim in a Joss Whedon dramady, Illyana actually does her job-- It's delayed, Illyana was busy with herself, though once the problem makes itself clear, fire is thrown. Violent, blazing and roiling, the earth smoulders, burned black at that fire's passing, the impact hammering home into the smoke monster.
Illyana says, Through the chanting of spellcasting, knife slashing and what sounds curiously like a flamethrower, "Swordfish."
Novel doesn't seem inclined to stop sinning now that he's started, streamers of fog mingling with the grayer, black smoke, and his own equally gray-and-black clad body creates a strange whirling smoke, slamming a knife into the back of figure before plunging in, an icy meteor of violence.
A hot wind blows through the cemetery, and with it comes sibilant whispers in the ears of Sam and all their companions: they promise depraved, decadent desires fulfilled, and for a moment that's all anyone can focus on.
Isolde falls out of her stupor with an unfinished etching into the wood. Her initial sits in a <3 alone before she inevitably stops short of someone else's expectation and gets distracted by the need to be a nightmare to to those around her.
She looks at Sam, displease, and the third imperative of isaz, written with the single letter yet influenced in where it is written - the palm. The crotch was a second place, but the palm is easily recognized as a place where sensation begins. She thrusts it towards her heart and mumbles, "Sam."
A few moments of pause, and suddenly, Sam jumps to his feet. He grins widely. "I open the Maw of Duat!" A mildly crazed tinge is in his eyes, and he raises that dagger, the blade shimmering strangely in the light, or rather, in the absence of the light around it. "Unleash Chaos, come forth!" He stabs that blade into the ground, and with a loud hiss, the shadows around Isolde, Novel, Illyana and Sam himself start to deepen, trailing after each of them, or hanging around them as needed, as tendrils start to reach out, coiling around the specters rather more agressively than might be needed for a simple ghost banishing. "DIE!"
"I can read the tree, Kim. Sae loves Novel." It's teasing, and Illyana hasn't stopped torching, apparently not really caring that that specific smoke creature is gone. The violence is its own reward. She glances over to Isolde, then to Sam before watching the beautiful deadly carnage that Novel is visiting upon the demonic spectres, thenshe adds, "You should be using the vibrator anyway. Honestly, why do I bother-- Then she's consumed by those thoughts, the fire stops and she blinks in place."
From the background, far too far - awkward even- to be a battle cry from the midst, Isolde shrikes her favorite lyric to the song of her life: "BRING NIGHTMARE!"
And then she begins firing wanton into black mists, shadows, and clouds.
As the dark mists roil in the cemetery, Sam 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.
A moment of pause, when that fear grips Sam's heart. Then, he breathes in, and out, and growls. "By promises broken, by fate stolen..." His hand trembles as he incants, his voice echoing with a soft, gutteral hiss. "By Betrayal and Banishment, by denial and loneliness..." His hands go to the ground as he falls to his knees, shuddering. "Consume, Maw of Duat! Consume, and retake thine place! Feed!" He hisses out, planting both palms firmly onto the ground.
Novel pauses, considering, his head ticking to one side as a hunting dog, his hand curling around the blade in his hand. And drip, drip, drip, goes the trickle of icy-cold water around neck and collar and wrists and breastbone, a curling of chaos and thaumaturgey with him momentarily still. His expression flutters in contemplation. A sudden intaking of thought and inhale, then an exhale, a slow shiver. And then he's shaking in place, a grimace, flashing, and he's up again to lashing out blindly, fear triggering fight-or-flight with only fight left as an option.
Only just blinking back to herself, that fear hits. If there's one thing Illyana doesn't like it's being alone-- Which has a certain irony to it, as her home is very much isolated and it's only herliving there. So though the fear itself means little; Illyana has felt fear, the world tunnels inwards, spiraling into its own brand of oblivion as the sensation of lonesome floods at Illyana, Isolde, Sam and Novel forgotten as the smoke drifts through the Arkwright cemetery, and Illyana begins to look, franticly for anyone-- Though for this moment, she sees.... No one else.
Isolde continues to fire like nothing has changed. The need to nightmare is not one won by happy thoughts, but in isolation. There never was a manic grin, just the memory of it.
Sam keeps his hands firmly planted on the ground, and the Jock trembles as the shadows around each of them deepen, tenrils of snake-like darkness starting to rip apart the smoke, systematically, carefully, and deliberately. Sam, meanwhile, seems to be getting weaker and weaker, the cost of arcanism rippling through his body, inhuman as it is.
A twisted figure forms out of infernal smoke, shaped like a terrible canine shape. It's a hellhound, leaping towards Sam with an awful snarl. When its mouth closes on %n, it has some phantom force, sending a vision of suffering in hellfire.
'What is fear anyway?' Alexithymia, the pit in Isolde 's stomach, asks.
Illyana has not left where she was, so as the hell hound seeks to impact Sam, it first must pass Novel, and then Illyana, who is, for her sins, a guardian angel, and consume's the hound's full attention as she snaps back to consciousness to note that her charge, Sam is in danger. There is a shimmer in the air, the smack as improbable force impacts immovable wall, and though the canine scratches and bites, Illyana takes far less damage than she likely shood, shimmering waves bursting in coriscating waves around Illyana
A second hellhound?!? Oh. No. That's just Novel leaping at the dog, tackling at it and Illyana both, mayhem and violence and glee spread across his features, clawing and stabbing at it and dropping back down into those animalistic instincts that drive him on even when most else is lost, the knife flashing up - then down, plunging into the phantom beast's neck.
Amids his incantations, Sam is barreled down... well, almost, if not for Illyana. He pauses, and falters for just a moment. Then, suddenly, a flash of malice runs over his features, and he slashes that blade forward, growling angrily. "I told you to FUCK OFF!" He grins to Novel and Illyana dealing with the hound. "I CALL DOWN THE JUDGEMENT OF DEATH! RETURN TO ASH!" He bellows, angrily so.
Isolde neutrally places her unloaded gun back into her handbag as the smoke begins to be sedated by a few estranged demons. She sits down, wraps her hands around her knees, and returns to the familiar thoughts as she watches other people take care of life's problems.
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 reaches its climax, the atmosphere intensifies with evil laughter and seductive whispers promising dark desires, testing the resolve of Sam and his companions. In a desperate push against the overwhelming forces, Sam, embodying the role of the arcanist, calls upon the "Maw of Duat" to unleash chaos and bring about the banishment. Despite being visibly weakened by the ritual's demands and the teammates grappling with their inner demons and fear incarnate, the group's efforts culminate in the successful dispelling of the smoke monsters. With the darkness receding and their adversaries vanquished, the cemetery is left in eerie silence, the once menacing mist fading away, signaling the end of their ghostly confrontation and the restoration of peace, albeit momentarily.
(Sam's ghost banishing)
[Fri Dec 20 2024]
On the Sprawling Hillside of Arkwright Cemetery
It is afternoon, about 22F(-5C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky.
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.
Slowly moving to the center of the hillside, Sam draws his blade, an eerie, oily-black kris, across the palm of his hand. He slowly starts to form a bright scarlet triangle, his free hand clutched around that human finger-bone on his neck as he works. "Try to keep em off of me, yeh?" He nods to Novel, Illyana and Isolde.
There's a good chance that Illyana was going to continue that thought, but then the spirits begin to rise. It's Illyana's favourite, and she grins to Novel. Isolde and Sam are the arcanists here, so that part is left to them, so Illyana snaps her fingers, shrouding herself in fire.
Isolde sighs, pulling the brick-like fashion structure of the Glock from her handbag. She jogs off behind a tree side-scorched from hell, and awaits.
A twisted figure forms out of infernal smoke, shaped like a terrible canine shape. It's a hellhound, leaping towards Sam with an awful snarl. When its mouth closes on %n, it has some phantom force, sending a vision of suffering in hellfire.
Novel flashes a grin to Illyana, excitement rising in his features as violence and mayhem promised. Alas, he has no such special skills. He has himself, his hands, and a knife, and he flicks his sunglasses over to disguise his own malice-filled eyes as he stalks towards the creature that he has so much familiarity with. He doesn't wait - he goes in, plunging the blade and ripping through the side of the hellhound before diving into the smoke proper to plunge into a brawl.
Tumbling right the fuck over from that, Sam yelps as he lands in the center of the ritual shape. He grunts, and after shuddering thoroughly, then pushes to his feet slowly. He goes to stand at one point of the triangle, muttering something under his breath as a shudder goes through his body, the ritual claiming it's toll.
Where Novel begins, Illyana finishes. Pathing to the now wounded hell hound, the phantom creature is bodily torn off of Sam There's no consideration of Sam's safety, it's just a short, sharp, violent rip. Then, Illyana's grip snaps around the upper and lower jaws of the canine, ripping it in two before she too looks for something else to hurt, taking up a guard station between Sam and the smoke propper.
Oh no! Not /n! Isolde, with relative maturity, does not unload on the bounding towards Sam and risk capping anyone else. With a necessary, mathematically meticulous gesture, she draws a simple straight line through the air, a proto-norse Other isaz, and unfurls her fingers towards Novel. A chestplate, unsculpted yet functional, and bracers from wrist to just short of the elbow flashfreeze and unfurls into a dense fog that makes waves on the ground.
For a moment, the dark smoke is still around Sam ... but then a low, evil laughter begins to echo. It takes only a second to realize the laughter is echoing inside the heads of those who fight here, and with it comes a sudden urge to give into everyone's worst sin.
Novel pauses a moment as he finds himself weighed down and and wrapped by ice armor, waggling his hands and fingers and giving an experimental swing through the choking, rotten-egg smelling smoke with a thoughtful huh - and then, glee, splitting his features, as he openly revels in mayhem. Kicking, slashing, movement, violence, surging forwards and swinging his arm as he engages in violent wrath with no regard to who is there - fortunately, having plunged himself into the fog.
Raking his knife through his wound again, Sam heads to the second point of the triangle, speaking soft words, before intoning, louder. "By pain and blood!" He breathes in, seemingly enjoying watching Illyana, Novel and Isolde fight. His eyes flicker, almost going yellowish as a serpentine hiss escapes his mouth. He growls low, then stabs right through the eye-socket of a nearby demon. "Fuck right off!" His voice is a little lower, manic, almost.
Isolde lowers her weapon, chewing on her lip from her tree castle like Helen watching helpless from Troy. She picks her finger bloody as she carves something out into the base.
Ah sin, Illyana knows it well. So as Sam, Novel and Isolde descend in their own ways, Illyana reacts how one might expect; Vainglory. Illyana is nothing if not self-obsessed, so instead of fighting, or guarding Sam's body, the mirror comes out, and she ignores all else for the moment it takes to appreciate herself. But so too is Illyana a creature of habit-- She might be distracted, but the narcissim is fleeting.
Some figure forms in the smoke: tall, it has twisted horns and red eyes. It levels a gnarled finger at Sam, beginning to chant in an unknown language as the air begins to crackle with magic. Immediately, Sam can feel something like a vise closing on their heart.
Illyana likely means narcissism, too
Clutching at his heart, Sam falls to one knee, growling as he looks towards the demon. Gasping, the Jock goes to the third point of the triangle, speaking softly, barely audible. "B-by our Devotion...." He collapses, then, pressing both hands onto that scarlet shape. "Fff..." He manages, as his heart struggles to beat.
As Novel fights on, Sam feels that grip around his heart and Isolde carves into the tree like the teen victim in a Joss Whedon dramady, Illyana actually does her job-- It's delayed, Illyana was busy with herself, though once the problem makes itself clear, fire is thrown. Violent, blazing and roiling, the earth smoulders, burned black at that fire's passing, the impact hammering home into the smoke monster.
Illyana says, Through the chanting of spellcasting, knife slashing and what sounds curiously like a flamethrower, "Swordfish."
Novel doesn't seem inclined to stop sinning now that he's started, streamers of fog mingling with the grayer, black smoke, and his own equally gray-and-black clad body creates a strange whirling smoke, slamming a knife into the back of figure before plunging in, an icy meteor of violence.
A hot wind blows through the cemetery, and with it comes sibilant whispers in the ears of Sam and all their companions: they promise depraved, decadent desires fulfilled, and for a moment that's all anyone can focus on.
Isolde falls out of her stupor with an unfinished etching into the wood. Her initial sits in a <3 alone before she inevitably stops short of someone else's expectation and gets distracted by the need to be a nightmare to to those around her.
She looks at Sam, displease, and the third imperative of isaz, written with the single letter yet influenced in where it is written - the palm. The crotch was a second place, but the palm is easily recognized as a place where sensation begins. She thrusts it towards her heart and mumbles, "Sam."
A few moments of pause, and suddenly, Sam jumps to his feet. He grins widely. "I open the Maw of Duat!" A mildly crazed tinge is in his eyes, and he raises that dagger, the blade shimmering strangely in the light, or rather, in the absence of the light around it. "Unleash Chaos, come forth!" He stabs that blade into the ground, and with a loud hiss, the shadows around Isolde, Novel, Illyana and Sam himself start to deepen, trailing after each of them, or hanging around them as needed, as tendrils start to reach out, coiling around the specters rather more agressively than might be needed for a simple ghost banishing. "DIE!"
"I can read the tree, Kim. Sae loves Novel." It's teasing, and Illyana hasn't stopped torching, apparently not really caring that that specific smoke creature is gone. The violence is its own reward. She glances over to Isolde, then to Sam before watching the beautiful deadly carnage that Novel is visiting upon the demonic spectres, thenshe adds, "You should be using the vibrator anyway. Honestly, why do I bother-- Then she's consumed by those thoughts, the fire stops and she blinks in place."
From the background, far too far - awkward even- to be a battle cry from the midst, Isolde shrikes her favorite lyric to the song of her life: "BRING NIGHTMARE!"
And then she begins firing wanton into black mists, shadows, and clouds.
As the dark mists roil in the cemetery, Sam 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.
A moment of pause, when that fear grips Sam's heart. Then, he breathes in, and out, and growls. "By promises broken, by fate stolen..." His hand trembles as he incants, his voice echoing with a soft, gutteral hiss. "By Betrayal and Banishment, by denial and loneliness..." His hands go to the ground as he falls to his knees, shuddering. "Consume, Maw of Duat! Consume, and retake thine place! Feed!" He hisses out, planting both palms firmly onto the ground.
Novel pauses, considering, his head ticking to one side as a hunting dog, his hand curling around the blade in his hand. And drip, drip, drip, goes the trickle of icy-cold water around neck and collar and wrists and breastbone, a curling of chaos and thaumaturgey with him momentarily still. His expression flutters in contemplation. A sudden intaking of thought and inhale, then an exhale, a slow shiver. And then he's shaking in place, a grimace, flashing, and he's up again to lashing out blindly, fear triggering fight-or-flight with only fight left as an option.
Only just blinking back to herself, that fear hits. If there's one thing Illyana doesn't like it's being alone-- Which has a certain irony to it, as her home is very much isolated and it's only herliving there. So though the fear itself means little; Illyana has felt fear, the world tunnels inwards, spiraling into its own brand of oblivion as the sensation of lonesome floods at Illyana, Isolde, Sam and Novel forgotten as the smoke drifts through the Arkwright cemetery, and Illyana begins to look, franticly for anyone-- Though for this moment, she sees.... No one else.
Isolde continues to fire like nothing has changed. The need to nightmare is not one won by happy thoughts, but in isolation. There never was a manic grin, just the memory of it.
Sam keeps his hands firmly planted on the ground, and the Jock trembles as the shadows around each of them deepen, tenrils of snake-like darkness starting to rip apart the smoke, systematically, carefully, and deliberately. Sam, meanwhile, seems to be getting weaker and weaker, the cost of arcanism rippling through his body, inhuman as it is.
A twisted figure forms out of infernal smoke, shaped like a terrible canine shape. It's a hellhound, leaping towards Sam with an awful snarl. When its mouth closes on %n, it has some phantom force, sending a vision of suffering in hellfire.
'What is fear anyway?' Alexithymia, the pit in Isolde 's stomach, asks.
Illyana has not left where she was, so as the hell hound seeks to impact Sam, it first must pass Novel, and then Illyana, who is, for her sins, a guardian angel, and consume's the hound's full attention as she snaps back to consciousness to note that her charge, Sam is in danger. There is a shimmer in the air, the smack as improbable force impacts immovable wall, and though the canine scratches and bites, Illyana takes far less damage than she likely shood, shimmering waves bursting in coriscating waves around Illyana
A second hellhound?!? Oh. No. That's just Novel leaping at the dog, tackling at it and Illyana both, mayhem and violence and glee spread across his features, clawing and stabbing at it and dropping back down into those animalistic instincts that drive him on even when most else is lost, the knife flashing up - then down, plunging into the phantom beast's neck.
Amids his incantations, Sam is barreled down... well, almost, if not for Illyana. He pauses, and falters for just a moment. Then, suddenly, a flash of malice runs over his features, and he slashes that blade forward, growling angrily. "I told you to FUCK OFF!" He grins to Novel and Illyana dealing with the hound. "I CALL DOWN THE JUDGEMENT OF DEATH! RETURN TO ASH!" He bellows, angrily so.
Isolde neutrally places her unloaded gun back into her handbag as the smoke begins to be sedated by a few estranged demons. She sits down, wraps her hands around her knees, and returns to the familiar thoughts as she watches other people take care of life's problems.
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.