A full moon covered the graveyard in silver, and fingers of frost caressed the headstones. The breath of a mighty Orc-Acolyte steamed in the wintry air. The breath of the Sorcerer... did not.
They stood before the gate, at a small distance up the road. Koschei extended a long finger and, catching Brikka's attention, he pointed at the two guards patrolling - there, and there. "They've increased the guard here," he told her, "ever since someone relieved the dearly departed Queen Maria of her fingerbone." He rolled his eyes with derision, and patted a mysterious lump in the pocket of his robe. "I mean really... if there's a better way to exert dominion over the shades in the spectral realm than a piece of a dead monarch, I'd like to hear it!"
Scowling, he turned to look at his Acolyte. "Those two guards, I leave to you to handle. Magic or mundane, the choice is yours - but I will be watching closely, of course."
An Evening Stroll (Shenanigans in the Graveyard)
Moderator: Community Team
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Brikka
Re: An Evening Stroll (Shenanigans in the Graveyard)
Knowing what they had planned inside, she chose to save her energy and be done with guards fast. On silent feet, she stepped into the shadows; not out of the light, but inside the darkness. Something that came naturally to her. It helped when you were otherwise a large target. In a moment, an arm appeared from the shadow behind one guard, grabbing him by the neck and pulling him off his boots backward. A small thump was heard. Surely just a night noise.
"...John...?" The second guard got a chill up his spine and slowly scanned the night. He was a skilled soldier, and was not used to this feeling. Too many weird things in Imperius lately, he thought. It was his last.
A tall orc shape appeared at the gate, her skin color making her easier to miss. If the old iron had not creaked, one might have taken her for a ghost of the place. "We go in now, Master. Much to do."
"...John...?" The second guard got a chill up his spine and slowly scanned the night. He was a skilled soldier, and was not used to this feeling. Too many weird things in Imperius lately, he thought. It was his last.
A tall orc shape appeared at the gate, her skin color making her easier to miss. If the old iron had not creaked, one might have taken her for a ghost of the place. "We go in now, Master. Much to do."
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koschei
Re: An Evening Stroll (Shenanigans in the Graveyard)
He nodded curtly, and strode into the boneyard as though he owned it.
"'Twas a fine thing you did there, Acolyte. I have known many sorcerers who forget that the best solution is often the simplest. It is not always necessary to engage the sorcerous arts to perform a simple task."
Pausing in the moon-shadow of a cracked and crumbling mausoleum, he turned to regard his protege.
"Now, a gift for you. Or rather, an opportunity. The creature we create with our craft must be chosen with care, lest we achieve a result most undesirable. Once the spirit is bound to a vessel, it will be your servant, and so you must decide what manner of servant you require. Should the vessel be mighty, or wise? Courageous or craven? Loyal or canny? Each has its virtues, and each its drawbacks. The nature of the shade is affected by the nature of the husk we bind it to. Look over these tombs ranged before you, and select the vessel we will fill."
"'Twas a fine thing you did there, Acolyte. I have known many sorcerers who forget that the best solution is often the simplest. It is not always necessary to engage the sorcerous arts to perform a simple task."
Pausing in the moon-shadow of a cracked and crumbling mausoleum, he turned to regard his protege.
"Now, a gift for you. Or rather, an opportunity. The creature we create with our craft must be chosen with care, lest we achieve a result most undesirable. Once the spirit is bound to a vessel, it will be your servant, and so you must decide what manner of servant you require. Should the vessel be mighty, or wise? Courageous or craven? Loyal or canny? Each has its virtues, and each its drawbacks. The nature of the shade is affected by the nature of the husk we bind it to. Look over these tombs ranged before you, and select the vessel we will fill."
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Brikka
Re: An Evening Stroll (Shenanigans in the Graveyard)
Peering calmly across the space, she wondered what she could use most. Already she had physical strength. Intelligence of her unique sort. What did she lack. Tilting her head slightly to the left, she stood statue-like a moment. When her eyes turned to meet her Master's, she nodded once. "Loyal, yes. Know the way of different races. I have no patience for that. It be useful. A creature to speak fancy for me, bring me information. Something accepted by," she jutted her chin toward the town, "them."
Wandering silently among the grave markers, she stopped on occasion to read the epitaphs. "They don't let the dead die," she muttered. It was all so sentimental to her. Without a ritual as they would perform tonight, what good is a body but to make the ground fertile? This was what her creature needed to understand, that she did not.
She squatted before one headstone, studying it intently.
Wandering silently among the grave markers, she stopped on occasion to read the epitaphs. "They don't let the dead die," she muttered. It was all so sentimental to her. Without a ritual as they would perform tonight, what good is a body but to make the ground fertile? This was what her creature needed to understand, that she did not.
She squatted before one headstone, studying it intently.
Celeste Hartford
ag'd 25 yrs
Faithful servant to the House of Copper
She was as family and greatly missed
Now she knows Freedom
The ground gave gently under her sandals as she rose suddenly. "This one. I know."ag'd 25 yrs
Faithful servant to the House of Copper
She was as family and greatly missed
Now she knows Freedom
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koschei
Re: An Evening Stroll (Shenanigans in the Graveyard)
Koschei nodded approvingly at his student.
"A fine choice, and wisely picked! And what's more... a bit of irony, eh? 'Knows freedom' indeed! We shall show this husk what freedom there is to be found above the grave..."
From one of his numerous pockets, he withdrew a fur-lined leather sack, bound with rough-looking, sinewy strings. He gave it a shake, and it sounded like bones rattling.
"Now, my Acolyte," he said to Brikka. "Recall your lessons from Book 2, the Book of the Sovereigns. Recall that every day of the week has a certain profile of three elements: a metal, a color, and a dark spirit that rules over it. The nature of the ritual is particular to each individual, and so you will create your own ritual here in the bone-yard. What matters is that you use at least one object of the right colour, and one of the right metal, that you pronounce the spirit’s name in a proper and reverent way. Do not try to summon, bind, or otherwise bother the spirit, or you may find that your blood boils in your veins or your hair becomes a nest of vipers. I knew an acolyte who made that mistake once, and I can tell you, vipers were the least of his worries." For a moment, the old villain chuckled as the memories danced in his eyes.
"Now! Today is a Monday, which is the traditional day for the binding of spirits. You might also wish to include the materials and invocation of Saturdays, as we are voyaging through the inner spectral realms, where the dead reside."
He offered her the sack, as he gave her a final instruction. "Take from this bag the items you desire for your ritual. Do not look into the sack. Merely reach in, know what you want to withdraw, and take it. So it is in life: we take what we want."
"A fine choice, and wisely picked! And what's more... a bit of irony, eh? 'Knows freedom' indeed! We shall show this husk what freedom there is to be found above the grave..."
From one of his numerous pockets, he withdrew a fur-lined leather sack, bound with rough-looking, sinewy strings. He gave it a shake, and it sounded like bones rattling.
"Now, my Acolyte," he said to Brikka. "Recall your lessons from Book 2, the Book of the Sovereigns. Recall that every day of the week has a certain profile of three elements: a metal, a color, and a dark spirit that rules over it. The nature of the ritual is particular to each individual, and so you will create your own ritual here in the bone-yard. What matters is that you use at least one object of the right colour, and one of the right metal, that you pronounce the spirit’s name in a proper and reverent way. Do not try to summon, bind, or otherwise bother the spirit, or you may find that your blood boils in your veins or your hair becomes a nest of vipers. I knew an acolyte who made that mistake once, and I can tell you, vipers were the least of his worries." For a moment, the old villain chuckled as the memories danced in his eyes.
"Now! Today is a Monday, which is the traditional day for the binding of spirits. You might also wish to include the materials and invocation of Saturdays, as we are voyaging through the inner spectral realms, where the dead reside."
He offered her the sack, as he gave her a final instruction. "Take from this bag the items you desire for your ritual. Do not look into the sack. Merely reach in, know what you want to withdraw, and take it. So it is in life: we take what we want."
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Brikka
Re: An Evening Stroll (Shenanigans in the Graveyard)
The bag felt heavy in her hand, and she considered her task. She needed to create a tool for containing a spirit. Visualizing the traps and containers she knew from her homeland, she felt none was right. Deciding to let intuition guide her, she reached into the bag. With her mind unfocused, she could feel some objects inside were different: warmer, colder, almost vibrating. The rest felt dead to her. Her fingers closed on something hot and smooth, somewhat rounded. It was a small cup with no handle, crafted of lead. She nodded and set it on the headstone. Back in the bag, something seemed to tug at her fingers. Annoyance showing on her brow, Brikka pulled back her hand, only to find it more tangled. Beginning to resist, she suddenly stopped and smiled grimly. Her fingers enfolded the odd thing and pulled it out into the low moonlight. The wad of black hairs gently trembled in her palm. It moved slowly to try and entangle her fingers as she watched. Nodding sagely, she placed it in the cup and set both on the headstone.
"Is hair from a girl who died unfulfilled on her wedding night, no? Human brides. So dependent. Orc man fights female for attention. She win and he not give it, she kill him."
Taking the bag again, she reached in to find some Saturday. Something icy caught her attention. A clear stone carved into a femur bone, dangling on a white silk cord. Simple and perfect for the job. She wore it, saying a few quick words to the spirit Ialsse for a swift and successful journey.
Brikka squatted on the grave of her future servitor. Fingers of one hand pressed tightly to a point, she plunged into the semi-soft earth until fingertips touched wood. Scratching up a few bits of the coffin lid and some of the dirt tossed in by the mourners, she added them to the cup. Balancing it between her palms, the orcess spoke clearly, calmly.
"Ialdga, spirit of this dark day,
I seek a soul this vessel to fill.
From cup to body, the last form to stay
And bring her forth do to my will."
A slight echo followed her voice and the words traveled around the bone yard, growing in volume with each round. They began to take form as a blowing mist which swirled from grave to tree, sorcerer to stone, long after the silence returned. Brikka stared intently into the cup, willing it to become more than it appeared. When she felt the time was right, her hands lifted it to the dark sky. One word she whispered, but it cut the night.
"Now"
The mists coalesced into a tornado of wisps, then a column of smoke. Finally, it jumped into the cup, collapsing into the tiny lead vessel with no trace it had existed. Inside, if anyone had dared to peer, the hair had formed a woven lining of shiny black silk. The dirt and wood were not visible.
She nodded to Koschei. "It will work. I am ready, we go when you satisfied by my work."
"Is hair from a girl who died unfulfilled on her wedding night, no? Human brides. So dependent. Orc man fights female for attention. She win and he not give it, she kill him."
Taking the bag again, she reached in to find some Saturday. Something icy caught her attention. A clear stone carved into a femur bone, dangling on a white silk cord. Simple and perfect for the job. She wore it, saying a few quick words to the spirit Ialsse for a swift and successful journey.
Brikka squatted on the grave of her future servitor. Fingers of one hand pressed tightly to a point, she plunged into the semi-soft earth until fingertips touched wood. Scratching up a few bits of the coffin lid and some of the dirt tossed in by the mourners, she added them to the cup. Balancing it between her palms, the orcess spoke clearly, calmly.
"Ialdga, spirit of this dark day,
I seek a soul this vessel to fill.
From cup to body, the last form to stay
And bring her forth do to my will."
A slight echo followed her voice and the words traveled around the bone yard, growing in volume with each round. They began to take form as a blowing mist which swirled from grave to tree, sorcerer to stone, long after the silence returned. Brikka stared intently into the cup, willing it to become more than it appeared. When she felt the time was right, her hands lifted it to the dark sky. One word she whispered, but it cut the night.
"Now"
The mists coalesced into a tornado of wisps, then a column of smoke. Finally, it jumped into the cup, collapsing into the tiny lead vessel with no trace it had existed. Inside, if anyone had dared to peer, the hair had formed a woven lining of shiny black silk. The dirt and wood were not visible.
She nodded to Koschei. "It will work. I am ready, we go when you satisfied by my work."
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koschei
Re: An Evening Stroll (Shenanigans in the Graveyard)
Koschei spent a long moment peering in contemplation, and then gave a small, crisp nod.
"It is done well. You have a talent for our art that I never believed your kind possessed. Nonetheless... do not forget that your knowledge is as a handful of grave dirt compared to the vast realms that are yet to be learned. But now... we go searching."
He lifted his hands in front of him, and cupped them together. Opening them again, he revealed a bird, an ordinary creature which looked about itself with an extraordinary gaze.
It made no move to fly from his hand, and it showed no fear. The old sorcerer watched for a moment, and then with a bony finger he tapped it on the head. There was a shimmer in the air, and the bird became... the idea of a bird. He held in his hands a vague black outline of a winged creature, which gave off the sounds of the beating of wings. It hovered in the air, while withdrew a thin black cord from a pocket. He tied one end of the cord to where a leg might be said to be on the bird, and then offered the other end of the cord to Brikka.
"When you give the word, the bird will fly into the spectral realm and seek the spirit you desire to fill the chosen vessel. You will not follow it into the other lands. Your role is simply to maintain in your mind the qualities you desire the spirit to have. Do not seek for the spirits of the dead, nor for the demons that dwell in the far realms. You want only a simple spirit that makes its own in the spaces that surround us. And, also... do not be distracted by the visions you see while you hold the cord. If you succeed, I will capture the spirit and you may bind it with your cup. If you fail..."
A trace of an evil smile split lips like the skin of an old plum.
"Do not fail."
"It is done well. You have a talent for our art that I never believed your kind possessed. Nonetheless... do not forget that your knowledge is as a handful of grave dirt compared to the vast realms that are yet to be learned. But now... we go searching."
He lifted his hands in front of him, and cupped them together. Opening them again, he revealed a bird, an ordinary creature which looked about itself with an extraordinary gaze.
It made no move to fly from his hand, and it showed no fear. The old sorcerer watched for a moment, and then with a bony finger he tapped it on the head. There was a shimmer in the air, and the bird became... the idea of a bird. He held in his hands a vague black outline of a winged creature, which gave off the sounds of the beating of wings. It hovered in the air, while withdrew a thin black cord from a pocket. He tied one end of the cord to where a leg might be said to be on the bird, and then offered the other end of the cord to Brikka.
"When you give the word, the bird will fly into the spectral realm and seek the spirit you desire to fill the chosen vessel. You will not follow it into the other lands. Your role is simply to maintain in your mind the qualities you desire the spirit to have. Do not seek for the spirits of the dead, nor for the demons that dwell in the far realms. You want only a simple spirit that makes its own in the spaces that surround us. And, also... do not be distracted by the visions you see while you hold the cord. If you succeed, I will capture the spirit and you may bind it with your cup. If you fail..."
A trace of an evil smile split lips like the skin of an old plum.
"Do not fail."
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Brikka
Re: An Evening Stroll (Shenanigans in the Graveyard)
The cord was tiny in her hand. She checked twice to be sure it had not slipped from her fingers, but it was there. The other end seemed to bob in the air, only the leash and fluttering sound giving away the birdling's position. This would find the spirit she needed to finish the work. She could not picture what she wanted, so she listed traits in her mind and repeated the list a few times. When her mind felt set, the wind seemed to whisper and she nodded. She dared a look to Koschei before saying to the bird, "Go forth. Do your work well and quick."
The cord became taut and she could see "through" the bird's eyes. Things moved in the darkness where nothing had been a moment before. Voices called to get her attention. Shades jumped up and down or swooped by her. She resisted the urge to look or strike out at them like the annoyances they were. Her thoughts stayed focused.
A loud caw came from all around her. The rest seemed to fade into shadow and only one thing remained lit. A shape, alone at a tree not far away. She felt it was watching her; she returned the favor. Very quietly she murmured to Koschei, "Master. There." Hopefully he could see it or follow her eyes. Her hunter skills worked now, allowing her to keep a steady gaze and not lose sight of the prey despite the muffled distractions all around.
The cord became taut and she could see "through" the bird's eyes. Things moved in the darkness where nothing had been a moment before. Voices called to get her attention. Shades jumped up and down or swooped by her. She resisted the urge to look or strike out at them like the annoyances they were. Her thoughts stayed focused.
A loud caw came from all around her. The rest seemed to fade into shadow and only one thing remained lit. A shape, alone at a tree not far away. She felt it was watching her; she returned the favor. Very quietly she murmured to Koschei, "Master. There." Hopefully he could see it or follow her eyes. Her hunter skills worked now, allowing her to keep a steady gaze and not lose sight of the prey despite the muffled distractions all around.