Patrollogs
Siofras Ghost Banishing 250221
In the chilling night air of Arkwright Cemetery, a team comprised of Siofra, Edith, Sam, William, and Novel confronts an unearthly upheaval as two ghostly armies clash amidst the graves. As spectral soldiers and phantom mages engage in a timeless battle, the living allies find themselves entwined in a struggle that exceeds the living realm's boundaries. Siofra, armed and determined, faces the ghostly onslaught head-on while Sam and Edith delve into the arcane, summoning powerful magics to counter the spectral forces. William, preferring subtlety and strategy, employs distractions and invisibility, trying to mitigate the impact of the ghostly war on his team. Amidst the chaos, Novel engages the ghosts with brute force, demonstrating a reckless yet effective combat style.
As the battle rages, the team's efforts converge in a pivotal moment when Sam, tapping into his deepest reserves of power, enacts a ritual that begins to turn the tide. Drawing the ethereal warriors into a shadowy vortex, he attempts to contain the unending conflict. Supported by Edith's vampiric abilities and Siofra's resilience, they face the spectral generals' ultimate assault - a cataclysmic clash that tests the limits of their endurance. Despite the onslaught, they persevere, and the spectral forces, spent and subdued by the combined might of the living and the arcane, finally recede. As peace returns to the graveyard, the eerie stillness of the night reclaims Arkwright Cemetery, leaving the battle-worn team amid a landscape forever altered by their confrontation.
(Siofra's ghost banishing)
[Thu Feb 20 2025]
On the Sprawling Hillside of Arkwright Cemetery
It is after dusk, about 22F(-5C) degrees, and the sky is partly covered by dark grey clouds. There is a waning crescent moon.
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.
"Ah, this is to be a full body banishing." Edith nods to Sam, gesturing to William and Novel. "Do we all have preferences on what we aught be doing? I take it that Master Novel will be directly fighting. What of you others?"
Siofra clocks in in overalls and Converse, a short t-shirt she natural evolution of rolled up sleeves as she takes her rifle off the trunk and digs in behind. "If none of ye' are up to eht, we can call Hand and just wait eht out. These one's are a bully, they are."
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.
Nodding to Siofra, Edith glances around as the fog thickens and the armies charge forth. "Oh, these. Splended." Waiting on Sam, William and Novel, Edith does little as of yet, perfectly content to watch on.
"I will leave you the ritualling" William tells Edith with a shake of his head "I don't really want to end up repeating last time... No banishing shall happen in front of the snake people" He nods adamantly before telling Sam and Novel "No offense, of course"
"Hey, Sam," Novel caslls out to him and makes a grunting agreement with Edith. "Master, huh? I just stab things." As he strides his way over towards the armies, blade flicking out in hand - and his stomping feet crunching right through the sudden ice with violent strength, as if he was expecting it. He starts playing with the ghosts - hitting them here, or there, fading and backing off. Maximizing the number of 'injuries' they inflict upon each other without getting too caught up. Charges of horses and men collapsing as he vanishes into the fog.
Stifling a yawn, Sam cracks his knuckles. "Between those present, I'm sure someone can banish specters." Sam trails off, and he smirks to William.
"Coward." He draws his kris-knife, and looks over to the rest of those gathered. "All right." He cuts his palm open, letting blood slowly drip around him, the scarlet liquid hissing softly on the spectral ice as the frost forces Sam to slow his pace a little.
"Miss Rose, since Mister Thorne doesn't want to... may I have this dance?" He smirks towards William, blowing a kiss.
Siofra's feet sit atop an old white oak's roots. A foot slips on the ice, but tied to the trunk and without intent to move, there is truly little to slip on. She slips the long barrel of the rifle down range, waiting for her companions to choose the direction of their scatter. She takes shots at distant mancers, the rifle's sound rolling down the treeline. The sound of gunshots is a constant absurdity in this Massachusetts town- whether from a mere mile down the road in the forest, or fired much closer, it's is some miracle work that the local denizens cease to understand they're in a constant warzone. When do they find time to visit the dead amongst the excursions? How many people passed out in the street from a pull of Nightmare must they walk by?
Little great incongruencies- but OH! Time to shoot ghosts.
"Guilty as charged" William replies to Sam with a smirk of his own "I don't like anyone watching me... Much less an ethereal reptile... And the thing we did was oily and probably dangerous" He says with a couple nods, wobbling on his feet for a couple seconds as he almost slips down, reaching for his knife within his clothes, but not really cutting himself this time, seemingly intent on using it as a weapon against others - Though sparing a glance at the army, he puts away the knife and takes out a small revolver, muttering to himself "This one is probably better"
The air thickens with an unnatural fog as ghostly archers let loose a volley of arrows. The projectiles are swept away by a whirlwind conjured by spectral windcallers, and the gust of wind sends everyone alive flying against tombstones with bone-jarring force.
"Very well." Edith nods to William. Kneeling where she is, Edith avoids slipping on the ice by not even bothering to move, a fallen headstone used as a tablet from which to work. Naturally, Edith's breath doesn't come, and so the temperature, and therefore the breathing isn't even the most vague of issues. Before she begins, the vampire rolls up her sleeve. A ceremonial blade is produced from /somewhere/ and she carves a gash across her forearm. THis deals double duty; Firstly, she up-turns her forearm, allowing the tepid blood to drip to the ground in a puddle, from where a black roiling mist begins to gather, coalessing into the large form of an obsidian mastiff. Then, Edith begins to ascribe a circle upon the stone before Sam speaks up. A fang toothed smile is flashed at Sam. "Do be my guest. I would like to see you work." the blond allows as she stands once more, watching Novel as he stomps off, gaze tracking to William and Siofra in turn.
A rope tenses, Siofra is yanked back- momentarily in flight as the rope goes taught and yanks the harness she's made for herself. It's jarring, a little painful, but ultimately the conclusion she was prepared for. Falling down on a back foot- unable to trip backwards, she yanks her self forward with her free hand. She takes a vacant glance, held captive by Edith's bloodspray- windcalled with the breeze, before she works her way back to pointing the weapon forward and taking a few heads of distant windcallers.
Siofra taught? taaut.
The archers fire and the weather mancers respond and the living-- That is to say, Siofra, Novel, Sam and William are effected, though Edith, being dead is perfectly content to direct her dog. From her handbag, the vampire produces a bone; A human mandible, throwing it like a frisbee. "Fetch." she tells the hound, and it storms off, chuffing into the armies to cause its own chaos.
William goes down to the ground this time, the ice had him already on unstable terrain, and the gust of wind finishes the job. Luckily for him, he at least meets the ground before clashing with any of the tombstones, saving himself the impact against rock. Grunting and standing back up, he groans and complains "The bad part about these is that... There's so many of them... And we are just caught in the aftermath- It's not like the others in which you can just... Shoot and save yourself..."
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.
Novel finds his continued assholery against the dead intercepted as he's lifted up and SLAMMED into a nearby tombstone. "Fuck!" He calls out, his favorite expletive, as he tumbles and rolls across the grass and pushes himself up after having gotten a bunch of barbarians to trip into some horses and then collapse on some mancers - but his grin only widens as it causes more problems. Though his attempt to get up is immediately halted by grasping roots that yank him back down, his knife flickering free as he starts hacking himself loose.
A slight nod, and Sam carefully finished drawing that triangle, and he starts chanting, holding his blade out in front of him, while his free, still bloodied hand clasps a rather definately human fingerbone, which responds with a reddish, arcane glow.
"By Blood, Will and Devotion..." His voice deepens, and slowly, like hissing snakes, shadows start to gather around him, pooling into that triangle.
"Fuck." He reaches down, starting to cut up some vines as they lash out to him, his chanting briefly interupted.
*...POP!* *..POP!*
"*POP!*
"Fuck.." Siofra mutters, rubbing a ear and taking a moment to settle the ringing sound. The constant cracks of pressure rolling hollow like a clap on both ears."
*...POP!* *..POP!*
*POP!*
"Fuck.." Siofra mutters, rubbing a ear and taking a moment to settle the ringing sound. The constant cracks of pressure rolling hollow like a clap on both ears.
"Bill is preferred..." William says in the direction of Sam, apparently distracted enough to attempt and make a joke - But his eyes are soon drawn towards the casters who cause the oh so familiar vines to come towards everyone around, and being already familiar with this, instead of bracing himself he uses some magic to trick either the casters or the spell, who know? Redirecting the plants towards a nearby tomb that they somehow mistook for him, which is moments later crushed by the pressure of the ruthless plant life
Edith's hound returns in no time. It collected the bone- What a good boy. Edith rewards it with a pat on the head, and the hideous creature wags its tail "Now," she tells the creature, "Kill." The witches are the target, and the malicious dog-like spirit, incongruously wearing a collar reading 'MR. Cuddles' races off to do Edith's bidding. Novel is fine. He is cutting himself free, Sam has his own plans and Siofra is... Fine too, apparently, as Edith's gaze sweeps over her and moves on back to Sam, who's magic is apparently interesting enough that the vampire ignores the vines-- They only go for the living, of course, so Edith is taking full advantage of them ignoring her. The hound though lands on a witch, biting its head off before making for the next in line. "He's such a good boy." Edith tells William, Sam, Novel and Siofra in passing.
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.
The roots of the white oak immediately betray Siofra as her legs around wound and she's momentarily buried, slipping without the chance to scream in the vacuous debts.
And then, from the pit and its roots, a tearing sound. A woman's scream turned roar. Peeling out on two spines and four limbs like Doctor Octavius, a full length Panda with overalls stuck round its ankle- blinded by a t'shirt, is raised out of the hole.
"Okay Billiam." Sam chuckles, pulling free of the vines, and re-focussing his attention on the rite at hand.
"By Shadow and Chaos, by Death and Darkness..." He glances over to Siofra(Ailuropoda melanoleuca, or Giant Panda), and nods once.
"I open the Maw of Duat..." He places both hands on that triangle, and the shadows within it stir, before it seems the ground falls into a deep, nigh endless hole. The jock winces, hissing softly as the rite seems to be taking it's toll.
"Oh, that's... Did you end up making it a minion?" William asks of Edith while glancing at the dog charging forward - Which in turn makes him notice a second round of vines is coming for everyone around, and he sighs, shaking his head, the same trick won't work so soon after he's done it, so he instead opts for a different one, magic filling his surroundings once more before he's gone from sight, made completely invisible, outside of the field of vision of the casters or the vines themselves
Placing two fingers between her lips, Edith whistles, the ground shaking as Siofra(Ailuropoda melanoleuca, or Giant Panda), now as a mutated panda emerges. Those vines wrap around a tomb, ignoring William, and Edith simply walks through the graveyard, unbothered as a pastel phantom for a better vantage at Sam's casting. That hound returns to Edith's side, and is given another instruction to kill. This time though, it's not the witches, but the giants, and Edith stands near to Sam, watching his blood magic take form with professional interest.
"Oh come the fuck on," Novel groans as more tendrils grasp his legs, wriggling out of them, pierced in several places by phantom thorns with a hiss between his teeth, "Fuck off!" He calls out to the ghosts, yanking with a limb and there's a CRUNCH as dirt comes up with it, putting inhuman strength on display.
Siofra(Ailuropoda melanoleuca, or Giant Panda) lazily scrambles out of the rest of the hole- the earth's pothole repealed by an act of lacking the target to suffocate. Dropping a foot and a half into a panda combat roll, she comes to a stand- paws pressed out to stop herself in a balance against momentum. Looking across the field of combat, a quick decision is made- the nude one- tugging up her overalls just as she shifts back.
Two spectral generals lock eyes from across the battlefield as their armies collide in a chaotic whirlwind of steel and spell. One of them has a blade wreathed in fire; the other conjures a vertex of ice-cold magic around him - their collision sends a shockwave rippling through the graveyard that knocks everyone off their feet and cracks all nearby gravestones right in half.
Preparation damned, Siofra does a comical bicycle kick as she slips forward on old ice and new, bad vibes, and falls on her neck. "Euungff-" -the single choked sound of her discontent.
That one- That one hits Edith. She sees it coming, but cant move in time; She's not fast. Still some of the damage is mitigated as the vampire stops, drops and rolls, coming up again behind a headstone as a protective shield as the hound continues to track a path of carnage through the ghostly armies. Looking then between Novel, Siofra, Sam and William, she looks each over, checking them in case she'll need to provide triage.
William groans out on his last couple seconds out of sight, expressing his discomfort at something he might have seen "Oh, there it i-" But his sentence is cut short by the shockwave that the class of powers from the army causes, throwing him back down to the ground, where he remains for a couple seconds as he mutters out little swears. Pressing both hands to the dirt, he slowly brings himself back out, using some more magic to try and distract the armies from actually hitting themselves, seeing as it was creating so much trouble for them
After some moments, Sam lifts both hands, and he moves, regarding the battlefield around him for a few moments. One hand moves, beckoning in more snake-like shadows into that triangle, while the other reaches down to the ground. His movements are somewhat janky, like a puppeteer pulling strings. He takes in a slow breath, then intones, in a slightly detached voice a singular word towards the battlefield about him. "Consume." He seems to be adressing the shadows themselves, placing both palms onto a side each of that triangle, and hissing shadows start to form around the jock's form.
Rolling over backward from her neck with a human flop to her hands and knees, without weapon and simply at whim to the elements, Siofra takes the time to excavate the rest of her belongings from the hole- twin spines wrestling roots to dangle her down.
Two spectral generals lock eyes from across the battlefield as their armies collide in a chaotic whirlwind of steel and spell. One of them has a blade wreathed in fire; the other conjures a vertex of ice-cold magic around him - their collision sends a shockwave rippling through the graveyard that knocks everyone off their feet and cracks all nearby gravestones right in half.
After that single word, Sam's hands spread, and snakes of shadow seem to shoot out, and strike at the ghostly army, slowly, carefully, dragging the combatants into that triangle. The jock seems to be in some kind of trance, a little like he is not fully in control of his body right now. His hands slowly cup together, and he waits, like he is filling his hands with water from a dark spring from within that triangle.
Then the shockwave hits, and the jock doesn't flinch or move much, though a trickle of blood from his ears shows that he very much felt that. Something, however, seems to be keeping the jock exactly in place.
Siofra sways a little below ground as the shockwave rushes above her. But all is quiet below where roots sleep. She rescues her rifle from its stint in 127 seconds, choked between two stones, and slowly returns with bulging pockets.
Edith is still bloody. It's healing, but not fully healed yet. That's good, because with Sam's ritual forming, Siofra, William and Novel fine, and Edith's dog off /playing/, it gives the vampire just enough time to begin puppeting spirits- And just in time, as Edith makes a gesture, ascribes a rune in her own tepid blood, and one of those generals turns on his own men. Then, Edith repairs her own flesh from the impact from earlier and her own savage slice.
And it seems his magic distractions aren't enough, because a second later another shockwave comes, and William is back down on the ground, this time face first, groaning muffled by the dirt he's fallen onto, this time he doesn't even bother to stand up, peering for a moment at Sam and Edith, and assuming if what he saw was already around, it wouldn't be too long until everything is finished, and so he remains on the ground, he can't fall down again if he stays down.
Siofra thinks she'll just wear a mask when she shifts to avoid concealment spam.
"No, no, no..." William complains seemingly to the air, jumping back up to his feet and lifting his shoulders and arms a little bit, almost as if the ground would stain him- More than the dirt already does. Looking down at it like a crazy man who talks with a wall or something
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, the team's efforts converge in a pivotal moment when Sam, tapping into his deepest reserves of power, enacts a ritual that begins to turn the tide. Drawing the ethereal warriors into a shadowy vortex, he attempts to contain the unending conflict. Supported by Edith's vampiric abilities and Siofra's resilience, they face the spectral generals' ultimate assault - a cataclysmic clash that tests the limits of their endurance. Despite the onslaught, they persevere, and the spectral forces, spent and subdued by the combined might of the living and the arcane, finally recede. As peace returns to the graveyard, the eerie stillness of the night reclaims Arkwright Cemetery, leaving the battle-worn team amid a landscape forever altered by their confrontation.
(Siofra's ghost banishing)
[Thu Feb 20 2025]
On the Sprawling Hillside of Arkwright Cemetery
It is after dusk, about 22F(-5C) degrees, and the sky is partly covered by dark grey clouds. There is a waning crescent moon.
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.
"Ah, this is to be a full body banishing." Edith nods to Sam, gesturing to William and Novel. "Do we all have preferences on what we aught be doing? I take it that Master Novel will be directly fighting. What of you others?"
Siofra clocks in in overalls and Converse, a short t-shirt she natural evolution of rolled up sleeves as she takes her rifle off the trunk and digs in behind. "If none of ye' are up to eht, we can call Hand and just wait eht out. These one's are a bully, they are."
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.
Nodding to Siofra, Edith glances around as the fog thickens and the armies charge forth. "Oh, these. Splended." Waiting on Sam, William and Novel, Edith does little as of yet, perfectly content to watch on.
"I will leave you the ritualling" William tells Edith with a shake of his head "I don't really want to end up repeating last time... No banishing shall happen in front of the snake people" He nods adamantly before telling Sam and Novel "No offense, of course"
"Hey, Sam," Novel caslls out to him and makes a grunting agreement with Edith. "Master, huh? I just stab things." As he strides his way over towards the armies, blade flicking out in hand - and his stomping feet crunching right through the sudden ice with violent strength, as if he was expecting it. He starts playing with the ghosts - hitting them here, or there, fading and backing off. Maximizing the number of 'injuries' they inflict upon each other without getting too caught up. Charges of horses and men collapsing as he vanishes into the fog.
Stifling a yawn, Sam cracks his knuckles. "Between those present, I'm sure someone can banish specters." Sam trails off, and he smirks to William.
"Coward." He draws his kris-knife, and looks over to the rest of those gathered. "All right." He cuts his palm open, letting blood slowly drip around him, the scarlet liquid hissing softly on the spectral ice as the frost forces Sam to slow his pace a little.
"Miss Rose, since Mister Thorne doesn't want to... may I have this dance?" He smirks towards William, blowing a kiss.
Siofra's feet sit atop an old white oak's roots. A foot slips on the ice, but tied to the trunk and without intent to move, there is truly little to slip on. She slips the long barrel of the rifle down range, waiting for her companions to choose the direction of their scatter. She takes shots at distant mancers, the rifle's sound rolling down the treeline. The sound of gunshots is a constant absurdity in this Massachusetts town- whether from a mere mile down the road in the forest, or fired much closer, it's is some miracle work that the local denizens cease to understand they're in a constant warzone. When do they find time to visit the dead amongst the excursions? How many people passed out in the street from a pull of Nightmare must they walk by?
Little great incongruencies- but OH! Time to shoot ghosts.
"Guilty as charged" William replies to Sam with a smirk of his own "I don't like anyone watching me... Much less an ethereal reptile... And the thing we did was oily and probably dangerous" He says with a couple nods, wobbling on his feet for a couple seconds as he almost slips down, reaching for his knife within his clothes, but not really cutting himself this time, seemingly intent on using it as a weapon against others - Though sparing a glance at the army, he puts away the knife and takes out a small revolver, muttering to himself "This one is probably better"
The air thickens with an unnatural fog as ghostly archers let loose a volley of arrows. The projectiles are swept away by a whirlwind conjured by spectral windcallers, and the gust of wind sends everyone alive flying against tombstones with bone-jarring force.
"Very well." Edith nods to William. Kneeling where she is, Edith avoids slipping on the ice by not even bothering to move, a fallen headstone used as a tablet from which to work. Naturally, Edith's breath doesn't come, and so the temperature, and therefore the breathing isn't even the most vague of issues. Before she begins, the vampire rolls up her sleeve. A ceremonial blade is produced from /somewhere/ and she carves a gash across her forearm. THis deals double duty; Firstly, she up-turns her forearm, allowing the tepid blood to drip to the ground in a puddle, from where a black roiling mist begins to gather, coalessing into the large form of an obsidian mastiff. Then, Edith begins to ascribe a circle upon the stone before Sam speaks up. A fang toothed smile is flashed at Sam. "Do be my guest. I would like to see you work." the blond allows as she stands once more, watching Novel as he stomps off, gaze tracking to William and Siofra in turn.
A rope tenses, Siofra is yanked back- momentarily in flight as the rope goes taught and yanks the harness she's made for herself. It's jarring, a little painful, but ultimately the conclusion she was prepared for. Falling down on a back foot- unable to trip backwards, she yanks her self forward with her free hand. She takes a vacant glance, held captive by Edith's bloodspray- windcalled with the breeze, before she works her way back to pointing the weapon forward and taking a few heads of distant windcallers.
Siofra taught? taaut.
The archers fire and the weather mancers respond and the living-- That is to say, Siofra, Novel, Sam and William are effected, though Edith, being dead is perfectly content to direct her dog. From her handbag, the vampire produces a bone; A human mandible, throwing it like a frisbee. "Fetch." she tells the hound, and it storms off, chuffing into the armies to cause its own chaos.
William goes down to the ground this time, the ice had him already on unstable terrain, and the gust of wind finishes the job. Luckily for him, he at least meets the ground before clashing with any of the tombstones, saving himself the impact against rock. Grunting and standing back up, he groans and complains "The bad part about these is that... There's so many of them... And we are just caught in the aftermath- It's not like the others in which you can just... Shoot and save yourself..."
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.
Novel finds his continued assholery against the dead intercepted as he's lifted up and SLAMMED into a nearby tombstone. "Fuck!" He calls out, his favorite expletive, as he tumbles and rolls across the grass and pushes himself up after having gotten a bunch of barbarians to trip into some horses and then collapse on some mancers - but his grin only widens as it causes more problems. Though his attempt to get up is immediately halted by grasping roots that yank him back down, his knife flickering free as he starts hacking himself loose.
A slight nod, and Sam carefully finished drawing that triangle, and he starts chanting, holding his blade out in front of him, while his free, still bloodied hand clasps a rather definately human fingerbone, which responds with a reddish, arcane glow.
"By Blood, Will and Devotion..." His voice deepens, and slowly, like hissing snakes, shadows start to gather around him, pooling into that triangle.
"Fuck." He reaches down, starting to cut up some vines as they lash out to him, his chanting briefly interupted.
*...POP!* *..POP!*
"*POP!*
"Fuck.." Siofra mutters, rubbing a ear and taking a moment to settle the ringing sound. The constant cracks of pressure rolling hollow like a clap on both ears."
*...POP!* *..POP!*
*POP!*
"Fuck.." Siofra mutters, rubbing a ear and taking a moment to settle the ringing sound. The constant cracks of pressure rolling hollow like a clap on both ears.
"Bill is preferred..." William says in the direction of Sam, apparently distracted enough to attempt and make a joke - But his eyes are soon drawn towards the casters who cause the oh so familiar vines to come towards everyone around, and being already familiar with this, instead of bracing himself he uses some magic to trick either the casters or the spell, who know? Redirecting the plants towards a nearby tomb that they somehow mistook for him, which is moments later crushed by the pressure of the ruthless plant life
Edith's hound returns in no time. It collected the bone- What a good boy. Edith rewards it with a pat on the head, and the hideous creature wags its tail "Now," she tells the creature, "Kill." The witches are the target, and the malicious dog-like spirit, incongruously wearing a collar reading 'MR. Cuddles' races off to do Edith's bidding. Novel is fine. He is cutting himself free, Sam has his own plans and Siofra is... Fine too, apparently, as Edith's gaze sweeps over her and moves on back to Sam, who's magic is apparently interesting enough that the vampire ignores the vines-- They only go for the living, of course, so Edith is taking full advantage of them ignoring her. The hound though lands on a witch, biting its head off before making for the next in line. "He's such a good boy." Edith tells William, Sam, Novel and Siofra in passing.
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.
The roots of the white oak immediately betray Siofra as her legs around wound and she's momentarily buried, slipping without the chance to scream in the vacuous debts.
And then, from the pit and its roots, a tearing sound. A woman's scream turned roar. Peeling out on two spines and four limbs like Doctor Octavius, a full length Panda with overalls stuck round its ankle- blinded by a t'shirt, is raised out of the hole.
"Okay Billiam." Sam chuckles, pulling free of the vines, and re-focussing his attention on the rite at hand.
"By Shadow and Chaos, by Death and Darkness..." He glances over to Siofra(Ailuropoda melanoleuca, or Giant Panda), and nods once.
"I open the Maw of Duat..." He places both hands on that triangle, and the shadows within it stir, before it seems the ground falls into a deep, nigh endless hole. The jock winces, hissing softly as the rite seems to be taking it's toll.
"Oh, that's... Did you end up making it a minion?" William asks of Edith while glancing at the dog charging forward - Which in turn makes him notice a second round of vines is coming for everyone around, and he sighs, shaking his head, the same trick won't work so soon after he's done it, so he instead opts for a different one, magic filling his surroundings once more before he's gone from sight, made completely invisible, outside of the field of vision of the casters or the vines themselves
Placing two fingers between her lips, Edith whistles, the ground shaking as Siofra(Ailuropoda melanoleuca, or Giant Panda), now as a mutated panda emerges. Those vines wrap around a tomb, ignoring William, and Edith simply walks through the graveyard, unbothered as a pastel phantom for a better vantage at Sam's casting. That hound returns to Edith's side, and is given another instruction to kill. This time though, it's not the witches, but the giants, and Edith stands near to Sam, watching his blood magic take form with professional interest.
"Oh come the fuck on," Novel groans as more tendrils grasp his legs, wriggling out of them, pierced in several places by phantom thorns with a hiss between his teeth, "Fuck off!" He calls out to the ghosts, yanking with a limb and there's a CRUNCH as dirt comes up with it, putting inhuman strength on display.
Siofra(Ailuropoda melanoleuca, or Giant Panda) lazily scrambles out of the rest of the hole- the earth's pothole repealed by an act of lacking the target to suffocate. Dropping a foot and a half into a panda combat roll, she comes to a stand- paws pressed out to stop herself in a balance against momentum. Looking across the field of combat, a quick decision is made- the nude one- tugging up her overalls just as she shifts back.
Two spectral generals lock eyes from across the battlefield as their armies collide in a chaotic whirlwind of steel and spell. One of them has a blade wreathed in fire; the other conjures a vertex of ice-cold magic around him - their collision sends a shockwave rippling through the graveyard that knocks everyone off their feet and cracks all nearby gravestones right in half.
Preparation damned, Siofra does a comical bicycle kick as she slips forward on old ice and new, bad vibes, and falls on her neck. "Euungff-" -the single choked sound of her discontent.
That one- That one hits Edith. She sees it coming, but cant move in time; She's not fast. Still some of the damage is mitigated as the vampire stops, drops and rolls, coming up again behind a headstone as a protective shield as the hound continues to track a path of carnage through the ghostly armies. Looking then between Novel, Siofra, Sam and William, she looks each over, checking them in case she'll need to provide triage.
William groans out on his last couple seconds out of sight, expressing his discomfort at something he might have seen "Oh, there it i-" But his sentence is cut short by the shockwave that the class of powers from the army causes, throwing him back down to the ground, where he remains for a couple seconds as he mutters out little swears. Pressing both hands to the dirt, he slowly brings himself back out, using some more magic to try and distract the armies from actually hitting themselves, seeing as it was creating so much trouble for them
After some moments, Sam lifts both hands, and he moves, regarding the battlefield around him for a few moments. One hand moves, beckoning in more snake-like shadows into that triangle, while the other reaches down to the ground. His movements are somewhat janky, like a puppeteer pulling strings. He takes in a slow breath, then intones, in a slightly detached voice a singular word towards the battlefield about him. "Consume." He seems to be adressing the shadows themselves, placing both palms onto a side each of that triangle, and hissing shadows start to form around the jock's form.
Rolling over backward from her neck with a human flop to her hands and knees, without weapon and simply at whim to the elements, Siofra takes the time to excavate the rest of her belongings from the hole- twin spines wrestling roots to dangle her down.
Two spectral generals lock eyes from across the battlefield as their armies collide in a chaotic whirlwind of steel and spell. One of them has a blade wreathed in fire; the other conjures a vertex of ice-cold magic around him - their collision sends a shockwave rippling through the graveyard that knocks everyone off their feet and cracks all nearby gravestones right in half.
After that single word, Sam's hands spread, and snakes of shadow seem to shoot out, and strike at the ghostly army, slowly, carefully, dragging the combatants into that triangle. The jock seems to be in some kind of trance, a little like he is not fully in control of his body right now. His hands slowly cup together, and he waits, like he is filling his hands with water from a dark spring from within that triangle.
Then the shockwave hits, and the jock doesn't flinch or move much, though a trickle of blood from his ears shows that he very much felt that. Something, however, seems to be keeping the jock exactly in place.
Siofra sways a little below ground as the shockwave rushes above her. But all is quiet below where roots sleep. She rescues her rifle from its stint in 127 seconds, choked between two stones, and slowly returns with bulging pockets.
Edith is still bloody. It's healing, but not fully healed yet. That's good, because with Sam's ritual forming, Siofra, William and Novel fine, and Edith's dog off /playing/, it gives the vampire just enough time to begin puppeting spirits- And just in time, as Edith makes a gesture, ascribes a rune in her own tepid blood, and one of those generals turns on his own men. Then, Edith repairs her own flesh from the impact from earlier and her own savage slice.
And it seems his magic distractions aren't enough, because a second later another shockwave comes, and William is back down on the ground, this time face first, groaning muffled by the dirt he's fallen onto, this time he doesn't even bother to stand up, peering for a moment at Sam and Edith, and assuming if what he saw was already around, it wouldn't be too long until everything is finished, and so he remains on the ground, he can't fall down again if he stays down.
Siofra thinks she'll just wear a mask when she shifts to avoid concealment spam.
"No, no, no..." William complains seemingly to the air, jumping back up to his feet and lifting his shoulders and arms a little bit, almost as if the ground would stain him- More than the dirt already does. Looking down at it like a crazy man who talks with a wall or something
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.