Patrollogs
Williams Ghost Banishing 241118
The eerie atmosphere of Arkwright Cemetery set the stage for William's undertaking to banish malevolent spirits that had manifested as menacing, horned creatures with red eyes. With quick thinking and a familiarity bred from experience, William sought refuge and began the intricate process of drawing a protective circle in the tender soil, using a branch as his tool. However, the spirits' psychological assault instilled a paralyzing fear, leaving him momentarily overwhelmed, trembling under the weight of his own terror. Yet, William managed to regain his composure, redirecting his fear into determination, racing against time to complete the ritual that would banish these entities back to the abyss from whence they came.
The climax of William's ghost banishing ritual saw the appearance of a warrior spirit, followed by a colossal spider, both composed of the same ominous black mist. Each entity attempted to thwart William's efforts through direct attacks and psychological warfare, introducing an element of internal struggle as he battled his worst urges amidst the chaos. Despite these harrowing challenges, William's resilience shone through. With a combination of swift physical reflexes, strategic use of his revolver to create distractions, and a profound dedication to completing the complex ritual—marked by pouring blood as a catalyst—William succeeded in overcoming the dark forces. His ritual, fueled by blood and whispered incantations, eventually enveloped and eradicated the spectral assailants, restoring peace to the Arkwright Cemetery and demonstrating the power of determination, quick thinking, and the magic he wielded against the darkness.
(William's ghost banishing)
[Sun Nov 17 2024]
On the Sprawling Hillside of Arkwright Cemetery
It is night, about 52F(11C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky. The area is wreathed in mist. There is a waning gibbous moon.
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.
William knows the procedure in these kinds of things well by now, locate the biggest either gravestone or monument around the graveyard in order to take cover from whatever what going to start coming his way. And, after a moment to take a deep breath in, and another out, also used to the lack of solid ground to use chalk in, he tries to find a rock or a stick to draw on the tender soil with, in this case settling for the the second, being the first that he finds, starting by drawing out a big sizeable circle within the ground, taking advantage of the spirits not having noticed him yet
As the dark mists roil in the cemetery, William 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.
William tries to calm himself down, forgetting whatever had gone on that same day, and trying to clear his mind from any ill thoughts- But then he's hit by whatever these ghosts were doing. It was causing a way too familiar emotion to sink into his body, running though his bones. And despite having already experienced it before, and having been able to work with it in the past, there is a moment in which he is overwhelmed by it, freezing in place, trembling. Eyes unfocused, not even knowing what they are looking at, probably at nothing in the end. His heart going faster, his breathing growing heavier and louder, and a smaller shudder spreading across his arms, maybe strengthened by his improper choice of clothing for this time of the year.
It takes him a couple seconds to snap out of it, to realize what he was doing, or to see the circle he had already began. Still afflicted by this deep fear, he returns to the drawing on the ground, going for deeper intakes of hair, trying to grab as much of his determination as possible, using the own fear as a weapon to fasten his own pace, almost like drawing this ritual catalyst was his way of running away from the place right now
Out of the smoke charges an armed and armored warrior, spun out of black mist. He is dressed head to toe in archaic plate armor, wielding some huge, two-handed sword as black as his armor. With a roar, he rushes at William, swinging the sword in some attempt to cut off their head.
William keeps on drawing and drawing, if someone had seen the ritual from the previous day, maybe in passing, or well, the partner who had been there to assist with the banishing- Not after that, since he had made sure to erase it before he left the place- It had a fairly similar structure, this time though, going for a pentagram rather than a hexagram. Using the branch to paint it in the middle of the circle, and then, at each one of the points of it, drawing a smaller circle to the original, tangent to it by one single point.
His drawing though is cut short as he hears one loud battle-cry coming towards him, and getting closer, ducking to the ground almost immediately to avoid anything that came his way. Only to find moments later that it was one of the spirits, wielding an oversized sword in its hands. There is a moment of hesitation, the fear the spirits had instilled moments before still lingering within him, but he had to do somehting, he couldn't simply leave the ritual and start it elsewhere.
So thinking as quick as he can, he reaches into his bag, pulling out of it a tiny gun, not wanting to fight the spirit outright, he wasn't that good in combat after all, no, instead aiming to either distract it or have it drop the weapon. Lots of spirits were barely aware, at least in comparison to humans, or so he had heard, so with a quick couple shots, he points towards one gravestone, hoping that the noise of the impact would drive the spirit away, and the other at it's hands, and thus, the hilt of the sword, having it fall from its hands to, if it didn't trick him away, at least have it unarmed for a couple minutes, while he worked on the circle
There is a look above -- and then, from an overarching tree, William and their companions can see a black spider made of infernal smoke. It's huge, with a bloated belly, and then spun spider strands of black mist descend to wrap William into some awful cocoon.
William quickly goes back to drawing with the spare branch he had found, parting the soil with it, he starts to add some details to the very barebones structure he had already laid out, revolver in his other hand just in case things kept coming his way.
First he traces some outer lines to the pentagram, drawing a little pentagon to compliment it, sharing their points, making all four parts of it match in five singular points, the bigger circle, the smaller ones, the pentagon and the pentagram.
Then he begins to draw within those smaller circles little glyphs and symbols, unlike the previous day, it isn't a big one in the middle of it, after all, the lines of the other figures would disrupt that idea, no, instead, it is smaller ones, more basic, to the extent they just seem random combinations of three differently oriented straight lines, with some wiggly figure appearing every now and then.
But much to his discomfort, his ritualism is interrupted once again, this time, some awfully big spider made out of mist, trying to get him trapped in that deadly trap. He isn't the faster to react, he has good reflexes but his sick body is more sluggish than it normally was, and fast action pained his muscles with a clear lack of energy. Despite this, he manages to duck to a side, recurring to the same solution he took with the warrior before, the revolver. Shooting a couple bullets at the misty form, not in hopes to hurt it, but to dissipate its form, it was after all, just mist. Parting each shot from the previous in order to cover a bigger surface and watching as the figure of smoke is carried away by the wind once it is turned back into just a gas
For a moment, the dark smoke is still around William ... 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.
William then hurries back to the ritual circle, groaning a bit to himself, just as annoyed at the interruptions as scared he was before, drawing and drawing until the symbols are laid out all across the interior and exterior of the much smaller circular traces. Taking a deep breath, he adds a couple here and there in the spaces that are fully enclosed by lines, in between pentagon and pentagram. They aren't as abundant, but they are clearly noticeable, specially because of the increase in size compared to the first ones drawn.
Then the branch is drawn to the perfect center of the bigger circle, or well, the middle point of the whole ritual, just as much of the circle as of the other smaller shapes and forms. There he begins working on some bigger symbol, seemingly much more complex than the ones around.
But again, it wouldn't be as easy, the same smoke that he had dissipated, was still lingering around in the air, close by, and then he hears a laughter within his head, making him uneasy, nervous, and worried that he might have walked into something he can't handle by himself. And then the urges start coming in little streaks. It was something he lived with daily, that he had to constantly repress, and eventually ended up exploding at very unpredictable moments. A feeling built on so many layered ones, sadness, frustration, rage, retribution... Yet it all shoves him in one direction, urging him. Teasing him with the idea of getting back at those that had caused them, in the most unpleasant way possible. One way that would make them suffer and take the pain away from him.
But no, he couldn't focus on that right now. Surely it was just something with his head. The sickness, or a previous argument, talking in his head, he couldn't really go through right now, he didn't have the tools, nor the real option to give into it right now. No, he had to finish that circle- That would give him the time, that would give him the option, it almost invigorates him to get out of here faster, to make it out in order to be able to give in to himself, to indulge in such dark thoughts
For a moment, the dark smoke is still around William ... 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.
William finishes drawing the more complex parts of the ritual, his hand moving swifter than before, working overtime, and, while this might leave a little impurity here or there that he normally would have cared to erase and redo to ensure that everything would work perfectly, this time he was focused on something else- And they were minor subjects, nothing that would render the ritual unusable, but rather, make it a little more demanding in terms of fueling.
And with those last touches here and there, the drawing part in itself is done, the ritual can take place, the instructions are set on the displaced earth, yet it needs the proper fuel to start working the magic. Just like he did for the revolver, he reaches into the bag, getting rid of the branch he had drawn everything with, and bringing out a small glass container, transparent, and so, allowing a view of its content, a thick dark red almost brownish liquid that seems to taint the walls of the recipient.
With care not to spill anything, he open the container and tilts it forward, starting to pour droplets of the liquid all over the little dug trails of the stick, not using too much in any given area to ensure with that single container he had enough for the entire circle. Drop of blood by drop of blood, he starts to whisper to himself in some sort of hardly-understandable language, having the life liquid already poured start to glow with a faint white light
With a howl, some kind of winged monkey-demon swoops down near William, its body made of living smoke. It's all grasping claws, striking hard to leave psychic scars that hurt like deep slashes. Other monkeys attack anyone nearby, with similar screeching, rending claws.
William finishes filling the ritual with the blood from the container, still muttering almost to himself, but really, to the arcane spell he had imprinted on the ground of the graveyard, and that he was fueling with the very essence of life. The light growing brighter and brighter, almost like a beam, like someone had left a projector buried in the ground but still on.
Then the monkey creature lands on top of the circle, there is a brief moment of hesitation, of fear, as he dreads that it might have erasen the progress, and ruined the attempt. But soon enough he confirms that this is not the case, it is made out of smoke after all, and doesn't disrupt the arcane he was unleashing upon them.
Continuing with his whispering as he retreats to avoid the claws, he watches as the light gains some blue and green undertones, only here and there, not everywhere, and, within an instant, it begins swallowing whole the beast that had threatened with attacking him just moments ago. But not only that, the light starts to bend itself in unnatural ways, searching for the remaining spirts, for any traces of the black mist that had been taking shapes, even for the dropped weaponry from the previous attackers. For a solid minute just binding them, but then starting to consume them apparently. Not in a acid way, but rather, wrapping around it, rendering it unable to move before the light begins to retreat back to the ritual drawing, shoving them down onto it, bringing everything to peace once more, as every single spiritual anomaly is forced away from the graveyard, swallowed into the ground that had been tinkered with, properly banished
The climax of William's ghost banishing ritual saw the appearance of a warrior spirit, followed by a colossal spider, both composed of the same ominous black mist. Each entity attempted to thwart William's efforts through direct attacks and psychological warfare, introducing an element of internal struggle as he battled his worst urges amidst the chaos. Despite these harrowing challenges, William's resilience shone through. With a combination of swift physical reflexes, strategic use of his revolver to create distractions, and a profound dedication to completing the complex ritual—marked by pouring blood as a catalyst—William succeeded in overcoming the dark forces. His ritual, fueled by blood and whispered incantations, eventually enveloped and eradicated the spectral assailants, restoring peace to the Arkwright Cemetery and demonstrating the power of determination, quick thinking, and the magic he wielded against the darkness.
(William's ghost banishing)
[Sun Nov 17 2024]
On the Sprawling Hillside of Arkwright Cemetery
It is night, about 52F(11C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky. The area is wreathed in mist. There is a waning gibbous moon.
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.
William knows the procedure in these kinds of things well by now, locate the biggest either gravestone or monument around the graveyard in order to take cover from whatever what going to start coming his way. And, after a moment to take a deep breath in, and another out, also used to the lack of solid ground to use chalk in, he tries to find a rock or a stick to draw on the tender soil with, in this case settling for the the second, being the first that he finds, starting by drawing out a big sizeable circle within the ground, taking advantage of the spirits not having noticed him yet
As the dark mists roil in the cemetery, William 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.
William tries to calm himself down, forgetting whatever had gone on that same day, and trying to clear his mind from any ill thoughts- But then he's hit by whatever these ghosts were doing. It was causing a way too familiar emotion to sink into his body, running though his bones. And despite having already experienced it before, and having been able to work with it in the past, there is a moment in which he is overwhelmed by it, freezing in place, trembling. Eyes unfocused, not even knowing what they are looking at, probably at nothing in the end. His heart going faster, his breathing growing heavier and louder, and a smaller shudder spreading across his arms, maybe strengthened by his improper choice of clothing for this time of the year.
It takes him a couple seconds to snap out of it, to realize what he was doing, or to see the circle he had already began. Still afflicted by this deep fear, he returns to the drawing on the ground, going for deeper intakes of hair, trying to grab as much of his determination as possible, using the own fear as a weapon to fasten his own pace, almost like drawing this ritual catalyst was his way of running away from the place right now
Out of the smoke charges an armed and armored warrior, spun out of black mist. He is dressed head to toe in archaic plate armor, wielding some huge, two-handed sword as black as his armor. With a roar, he rushes at William, swinging the sword in some attempt to cut off their head.
William keeps on drawing and drawing, if someone had seen the ritual from the previous day, maybe in passing, or well, the partner who had been there to assist with the banishing- Not after that, since he had made sure to erase it before he left the place- It had a fairly similar structure, this time though, going for a pentagram rather than a hexagram. Using the branch to paint it in the middle of the circle, and then, at each one of the points of it, drawing a smaller circle to the original, tangent to it by one single point.
His drawing though is cut short as he hears one loud battle-cry coming towards him, and getting closer, ducking to the ground almost immediately to avoid anything that came his way. Only to find moments later that it was one of the spirits, wielding an oversized sword in its hands. There is a moment of hesitation, the fear the spirits had instilled moments before still lingering within him, but he had to do somehting, he couldn't simply leave the ritual and start it elsewhere.
So thinking as quick as he can, he reaches into his bag, pulling out of it a tiny gun, not wanting to fight the spirit outright, he wasn't that good in combat after all, no, instead aiming to either distract it or have it drop the weapon. Lots of spirits were barely aware, at least in comparison to humans, or so he had heard, so with a quick couple shots, he points towards one gravestone, hoping that the noise of the impact would drive the spirit away, and the other at it's hands, and thus, the hilt of the sword, having it fall from its hands to, if it didn't trick him away, at least have it unarmed for a couple minutes, while he worked on the circle
There is a look above -- and then, from an overarching tree, William and their companions can see a black spider made of infernal smoke. It's huge, with a bloated belly, and then spun spider strands of black mist descend to wrap William into some awful cocoon.
William quickly goes back to drawing with the spare branch he had found, parting the soil with it, he starts to add some details to the very barebones structure he had already laid out, revolver in his other hand just in case things kept coming his way.
First he traces some outer lines to the pentagram, drawing a little pentagon to compliment it, sharing their points, making all four parts of it match in five singular points, the bigger circle, the smaller ones, the pentagon and the pentagram.
Then he begins to draw within those smaller circles little glyphs and symbols, unlike the previous day, it isn't a big one in the middle of it, after all, the lines of the other figures would disrupt that idea, no, instead, it is smaller ones, more basic, to the extent they just seem random combinations of three differently oriented straight lines, with some wiggly figure appearing every now and then.
But much to his discomfort, his ritualism is interrupted once again, this time, some awfully big spider made out of mist, trying to get him trapped in that deadly trap. He isn't the faster to react, he has good reflexes but his sick body is more sluggish than it normally was, and fast action pained his muscles with a clear lack of energy. Despite this, he manages to duck to a side, recurring to the same solution he took with the warrior before, the revolver. Shooting a couple bullets at the misty form, not in hopes to hurt it, but to dissipate its form, it was after all, just mist. Parting each shot from the previous in order to cover a bigger surface and watching as the figure of smoke is carried away by the wind once it is turned back into just a gas
For a moment, the dark smoke is still around William ... 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.
William then hurries back to the ritual circle, groaning a bit to himself, just as annoyed at the interruptions as scared he was before, drawing and drawing until the symbols are laid out all across the interior and exterior of the much smaller circular traces. Taking a deep breath, he adds a couple here and there in the spaces that are fully enclosed by lines, in between pentagon and pentagram. They aren't as abundant, but they are clearly noticeable, specially because of the increase in size compared to the first ones drawn.
Then the branch is drawn to the perfect center of the bigger circle, or well, the middle point of the whole ritual, just as much of the circle as of the other smaller shapes and forms. There he begins working on some bigger symbol, seemingly much more complex than the ones around.
But again, it wouldn't be as easy, the same smoke that he had dissipated, was still lingering around in the air, close by, and then he hears a laughter within his head, making him uneasy, nervous, and worried that he might have walked into something he can't handle by himself. And then the urges start coming in little streaks. It was something he lived with daily, that he had to constantly repress, and eventually ended up exploding at very unpredictable moments. A feeling built on so many layered ones, sadness, frustration, rage, retribution... Yet it all shoves him in one direction, urging him. Teasing him with the idea of getting back at those that had caused them, in the most unpleasant way possible. One way that would make them suffer and take the pain away from him.
But no, he couldn't focus on that right now. Surely it was just something with his head. The sickness, or a previous argument, talking in his head, he couldn't really go through right now, he didn't have the tools, nor the real option to give into it right now. No, he had to finish that circle- That would give him the time, that would give him the option, it almost invigorates him to get out of here faster, to make it out in order to be able to give in to himself, to indulge in such dark thoughts
For a moment, the dark smoke is still around William ... 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.
William finishes drawing the more complex parts of the ritual, his hand moving swifter than before, working overtime, and, while this might leave a little impurity here or there that he normally would have cared to erase and redo to ensure that everything would work perfectly, this time he was focused on something else- And they were minor subjects, nothing that would render the ritual unusable, but rather, make it a little more demanding in terms of fueling.
And with those last touches here and there, the drawing part in itself is done, the ritual can take place, the instructions are set on the displaced earth, yet it needs the proper fuel to start working the magic. Just like he did for the revolver, he reaches into the bag, getting rid of the branch he had drawn everything with, and bringing out a small glass container, transparent, and so, allowing a view of its content, a thick dark red almost brownish liquid that seems to taint the walls of the recipient.
With care not to spill anything, he open the container and tilts it forward, starting to pour droplets of the liquid all over the little dug trails of the stick, not using too much in any given area to ensure with that single container he had enough for the entire circle. Drop of blood by drop of blood, he starts to whisper to himself in some sort of hardly-understandable language, having the life liquid already poured start to glow with a faint white light
With a howl, some kind of winged monkey-demon swoops down near William, its body made of living smoke. It's all grasping claws, striking hard to leave psychic scars that hurt like deep slashes. Other monkeys attack anyone nearby, with similar screeching, rending claws.
William finishes filling the ritual with the blood from the container, still muttering almost to himself, but really, to the arcane spell he had imprinted on the ground of the graveyard, and that he was fueling with the very essence of life. The light growing brighter and brighter, almost like a beam, like someone had left a projector buried in the ground but still on.
Then the monkey creature lands on top of the circle, there is a brief moment of hesitation, of fear, as he dreads that it might have erasen the progress, and ruined the attempt. But soon enough he confirms that this is not the case, it is made out of smoke after all, and doesn't disrupt the arcane he was unleashing upon them.
Continuing with his whispering as he retreats to avoid the claws, he watches as the light gains some blue and green undertones, only here and there, not everywhere, and, within an instant, it begins swallowing whole the beast that had threatened with attacking him just moments ago. But not only that, the light starts to bend itself in unnatural ways, searching for the remaining spirts, for any traces of the black mist that had been taking shapes, even for the dropped weaponry from the previous attackers. For a solid minute just binding them, but then starting to consume them apparently. Not in a acid way, but rather, wrapping around it, rendering it unable to move before the light begins to retreat back to the ritual drawing, shoving them down onto it, bringing everything to peace once more, as every single spiritual anomaly is forced away from the graveyard, swallowed into the ground that had been tinkered with, properly banished