Wandering in the Night(Mortis)

[Archelon]

Approximately 21st Bell9 o'clock at night20th of Fall, 511av


In the midst of the night Mortis' walked as a ghost amongst the living. Around his passage a small shimmer in the air could be seen by mortal eyes within the mist. On a colder , clearer night such was usually unnoticeable as he wasn't very strong yet. But now the mists swirled around him, augmenting the view of him in mortal eyes. He could sense its difference around him- it was soulmist... soulmist from powerful ghosts, old ghosts, ghosts he had not seen their type before.

It was the one thing that seemed to cause fear in his unlife heart.

It clung to other ghosts he had seen, trying to slow them down as their grey forms began to kill the fleshlings in the houses. Those ghosts were scary, he could sense their malice for all things living like it was a palpable feeling. Being around them felt like if he had mortal skin, it would crawl off his bones and slough to a pile of jelly on the ground.

But not the mists, not the mists of dark white.

When a grey ghost had come to attack him before he had fled the mists had surrounded him before him the mists had parted to allow a passage for his escape.Then they closed behind him as if they were giving him courtesy to stop one of the grey ghosts from getting closer to his spirit form.

As he stopped, a face formed in the mists, and an ethereal ghostly voice whispered to him. "Brethren. Welcome to you... there is danger, danger to ghosts and fleshlings tonight. Some in this city are attempting to stop it. You stand at a crossroads, Will you help or harm?"

[Mortis]

Mortis heard the question asked by the other ghost and did not respond for several seconds. He wasn't sure whether this ghost was malicious or not but it was certainly annoying, to say the least. He didn't like being spoken to by an entity he was not familiar with, in a way that was too friendly. He had never seen this ghost before and already it was calling him "brother" and asking him to make decisions on things he couldn't really care less about. He didn't like this ghost and he would make that clear in his response.

Slowly, mist swirled around Mort's ghostly being. It formed a mass of mist around him and then, one limb at a time, it recreated a hazy flickering outline of his former self. His hair was formed from tendrils of mist from his head, matted and broken, just as it had been when he was killed. His body changed shape several times until it was the right proportions. It refocused a few times, shifting between hazy and very hazy, before he finally responded.

"...And who are you?" Mortis replied, in an irritated tone. "I am not your brethren as you say, what business would you have of me? What makes you think I would listen to you at all, let alone choose sides in a conflict I know nothing about? Count me out of your mischief "Brother", I do not want anything to do with it."

Mort prepared himself to blink away at a moments notice, but did not break the calm and slightly annoyed expression he was giving his questioner. He knew not every ghost was of the peace loving kind. Some would even attack and devour their own kind. Mort wasn't sure if he could defend himself properly should this ghost decide to attack, hence his preparing to blink should it commence an attack.

[Archelon]

The face within the mist looked serenely at him a moment, not filled with malice , just solemn acceptance of his reticence to discuss, and “Ah but you are Our brethren, diluted though your blood in life might have been. We sense in you a kindred spirit, Tempered Aggression, controlled vengeance, and a purpose of seeking something beyond yourself... for a young ghost- you intrigue Us."

A small tendril of ghost mist would reach out to touch Mortis' own makeup. "I sense within your spirit a connection to someone living, or one you believe to be living. I cannot see such a connection clearly, but if you help Us out I may be able to help you in the future recall those memories. But there is danger inherent in what is required to protect this town tonight, even if many do not deserve, and your skills seem weak.. I must test them."

“That seems logical but that’s what any would say.”


“Then I will prove my intentions brethren… I sense how you were born in sunberth. Through the longest line of indentured thralls in the mind… yet still may have borne Our Blood. Bastard line perhaps, I cannot tell... but you do not seem like many of the craeven; merely mixed, apart... perhaps a wild card? Yes definitely a wild card, but one worthy of a chance to become stronger to protect what you wish, find what you can, and conquer for your vengeance. You will have to ponder whether to manipulate fleshlings though, or to seek out those who might help you on their own accords so long as you can negotiate. There is a party close by here that will need help. If you agree, I will send you to them. ” Through the mist, the face whispered its thoughts controlling a line of other eldritch whispers , sending word across Sunberth's bay to Lodestar Isle. From a whispered word, deep in the catacombs a skeletal hand would open a void, and through that void a vial of clear soulmist would be passed through the anchor to emerge from one portal near the ghosts feet. The mixture of soulmist was clear, potent... potent beyond most measures and sitting there.

For a moment, in his vision through the voided portal he would have glimpsed the skeletal figure of a nuit peering into a pool of water much like the one Doler had been staring at. The eyes would recognize the vial for what it was- one of the most precious substance for a ghost. Soul mist... but not looking as any spiritist he knew might have fashioned it. It was far too old to his ghostly senses.

The features of the ghost in front of him reformed after a tendril took a a small sip of the vial in front of them both after unpopping its cork. A figure of a young woman of regal features came to be seen. It's eyes holding a kindness many ghosts never held. ”My name is Lucerne little one, Lucerne Leywellin, last of the Leywellins, grand oathed to our Purpose of Vigiliance. May I ask you your name as well now that you know mine?”

Throwing the cork to him the ghost made a demand. "Lift that as you speak to me. Soon you will take its nourishment to recover after your skills have been tested fully. At that time, whether you agree to assist the town or not... or run to flee this crisis I will leave you be."

[Mortis]

Mort looked at the now very pretty woman in awe. What wonders a vial of this soul mist could do! He found himself wanting it, hungry of the power it held. But at the same time, he didn't want it. He didn't ask for anyones help after all.

The cork flew towards him and he caught it in his hand, keeping it afloat by pushing it gently upwards with his soul mist.

"Forgive me if I have not the slightest idea who you are. As for my name, I call myself Mortis and so you can do so as well."

He looked at the cork he was keeping afloat in his hand and cocked a hazy eyebrow. This was supposed to test him?

"Okay Lady Laywellin, continue your tests. I don't know what good it'll do either of us though. Lifting this cork here is pretty simple. What else have you got up your metaphorical sleeves my lady?"

He thought about what she had said after that. About assisting the town. He was no fighter. He never was, neither in death nor life. And now she wanted him to defend a town? Whatever. He wasn't concerned about that right now. right now he was focused on passing her tests and getting a sip of that soul mist.

(Posted this at 4AM. Will edit later. )

[Archelon]

Reaching out with a soulmist tendril, the ghostly woman stretched her soulmist towards a small object at the side of the street. Soon enough, it was brought into view, the form of a small rusty dagger, about five pounds worth. She threw it at his feet. "Lift this now and repeat your lifting of it as if you were a fleshling lifting a weight. I will begin to continue since you are a young ghost I'm sure you may not have had the benefits of another ghost explaining the way it works to you."

The woman seemed to sigh a little as Mortis began his repetitions. "First, the grey ghosts around sunberth tonight are the Craeven. They exist only to wish to bring the deaths of anything and everything so that all might become like them. To this end, they are preventing several mortals we have asked for help from bringing certain items we need to the Temple of the Unkown. The Temple of the Unknown is located pretty much in the center of Sunberth just outside the gated community. Since they do seem to be attacking other ghosts who are new like yourself with impunity I would request you stick with one of the fleshling groups I already asked to help with the city."

After Mortis had done the onerous and arduos process of lifting the dagger six times the ghost would smile and compliment him on his effort, or assess whether he needed practice. Until that time she would simply allow him to continue in silence, or ask his questions in return...

[Mortis]

Mort listened intently to what the woman had to say. Normally he would not concern himself with the affairs of mortals. He preferred to just wander his own way. Using his young soul mist in any way was not something he enjoyed doing. However, if these "Craven" truly were coming after other ghosts, like himself, then it was unlikely he could defend himself. He'd be devoured and cease to exist... and then he'd never see his sister again. Never have a chance to say goodbye...

The soul mist surrounding his body began to flow more rapidly and chaoticly around his form. A dagger huh? He hadn't really bothered to lift anything that heavy before but it didn't matter. He knew he could do it.

Mort obeyed her orders and attempted to pick up the dagger with his ghostly hands, as if he was still alive. His soul mist enveloped the dagger and he pushed upwards. Nothing happened!?

"What....?" He mumbled to himself. It was a dagger! It can't be that heavy. Using his mist he attempted to push it up again, but this time with more force. The dagger was lifted several inches off the ground. It was draining him to keep it there but he had to complete the test. He dropped the dagger and it hit the floor with a loud *clang*. Over the course of several minutes interspersed with small breaks, finally accomplished the task. The was not nearly as much mist surrounding him as there had been, and his form felt sore all over. This was why he didn't like picking things up.

"Ok... Thats that done. I have to admit that was harder than I thought. Oh boy. If I can't even lift a dagger properly, how am I to be of use to anyone...?"

He gave and sad sigh and looked at the woman.

"Alright. What next.?"

[Archelon]

"Good effort, though there is need of improvement. To truly train your soulmist to pick up objects you must train it like a muscle." The ghostly woman nodded at Mortis' words and took a lecturing stance, as if she was teaching someone about something, one hand smacking the other to emphasize different parts of her conveyed knowledge, "To a ghost, soulmist is everything and it only regenerates at a slow pace. New ghosts find it difficult to lift even the most minor stuff. However, that doesn't mean that the smallest changes are the least useful when needing to coerce mortals to your aims. For instance, slipping switches, throwing rocks, hitting something aside with one strong 'push' can be very draining. But rewarding with results The one thing you must learn do more with less. Work smartly with what you have."

Crossing a set of ethereal over her chest, Lucerne looked at Mortis before cocking her head slightly, " But I think you will understand this concept soon enough as you practice more. Know this: if your soul mist is shredded beyond its ability to regenerate over time as you 'sleep : you will essentially become in danger of no longer being able to remain a ghost. You may slip back into the Cycle."

A slight whisper of many whispers traveled through the mist, and they seem to catch Lucerne's attention as they continued before the ghost made a sign that allowed the mist to send the whispers farter away down the alley as she continued. It was obvious her attention was divided, not fully focused on Mortis but rather as if she was concentrating on coordinating a great many things. "Through injury or a lapse in concentration: any form of doubt even may propel you back into the Cycle leaving your unfinished business just that: Unfinished. To these ends I wish to test your Resolve along with another skill. You seem to despise humans at times, but even in your despisement you must know when to work with them."

Gesturing with her arm to one section of the mist nearby the form of a human child, a boy of eight came staggering through the mists, holding an injured arm, looking around dazed and confused before crumpling to his knees. From his form another white spirit rose, coalescing itself with a thin veil back into the mist and a muttered word of apology to Lucerne before it dissipated.

Pointing at the boy, Lucerne spoke towards Mortis with a command as the child began to cry in pain still looking around in confusion. "This boy was injured by a set of slavers in the mist... those sorry sorts were then possessed by the Craeven to hunt down and hurt others. I need you to take this boy to safety in his home at the end of the row of houses, it's only a three hundred feet from here. Possession of a mortal in pain who is unable to control their body may be a means of a ghost to save them and themselves if they must hide. I will lead, you will follow. But Hurry: they say three craeven possessed are approaching! "

Reaching down to carry the vial of soulmist in one ghostly hand , Lucerne began to lead the way...

[Mortis]

Possession? Mort flinched at the concept. The last time he tried to possess someone he was trapped for several months. It was pure misery to be so helpless for so long. He felt himself begin to slip into a flashback, but then shook his head and struck the thoughts from his mind. If there were Craven on the way, then he didn't have time for this.

He half walked, half floated up to the crying boy and didn't have to try to sneak up on him. The boy was obviously distraught and panicking. His mind would be a real mess. He reached out and touched the child on its head. His fingers went straight through, followed by his hand, then his arm and his entire form. As this was happening, the boy sat bolt upright and clenched his teeth. He had no idea what was happening to him, and even if he did, his mind was so paincked that he would not have been able to do anything anyway. Mort faced little resistance.

The child's mind was just as he had predicted. Thoughts flew everywhere, disorganised and at times, completely random. Mort concentrated hard. He began to do what he had always done to his sister when she had felt like this, except this time he was doing it without words. He was calming the boy down by linking his thoughts together more coherently. It felt like knitting an article of clothing. After a few seconds the boys thoughts were more ordered and relevant to the situation. He was still panicked beyond belief but not as much as he had been. Mort slowly an gently took control of his tiny body.

He flexed his tiny fingers and stetched his legs. Everything felt so large when you were this small. But without wasting anymore time, he set off after the woman. Possessing the boy waseasy, but draining. He was fairly competent at possession but he was inexperienced he didn't know his limits and was prepared to eject at any time.

[Archelon]

As Lucerne lead Mortis' and the possessed boy down the alley there were a series of objects, trash and refuse for him to be aware of in the boy's form. Mortis would notice something, a weight on the boy's chest and a quick check would show him a key was hanging there from a string.

The first obstacle was a series of crates that had scattered upon the ground, leaving small gaps for him to scoot the boy through, behind and around in a meandering path. At times, he would have to make the boy crawl, at others, he'd have to make the boy jump, or sandwich himself against the wall to skirt by the obstacles. Of course, there was the pain the boy was feeling from the injured right arm. The elbow was bent the wrong direction as it was held in the other hand. Would he take the time to consider the host's well being?

The second obstacle seemed small but piddling, there was a place in the cobbles that had brought about a small field of pot holes, and to not lose time by tripping he'd have to make the boy walk a twisting balance beam of sorts. The boy might be able to jump across such things if he was capable of such a manipulation... but would that lose him more time or injure the boy further?

The last obstacle was a simple one, yet would require a bit of deft thinking and control of his hosts fingers at the stairs to boys house. What was it? The lock of course. He already had the key! Once inside he might leave the safety of the home there , or stay and hide dependant on his and Lucerne's conversations.

But what about the Craeven who the woman had said were coming?

Behind Mortis a loud wailing in the distance was heard through the mist, coming slowly closer. The White Mist it seemed could only supress the movements of the Craeven for a time. Not stop them completely in their tracks, and none at all if they had a host.

He would have to weigh all such things in his decisions as his time possessing the host would deplete his soulmist at a steady rate...

[Mortis]

Mort felt the key against the chest of the boy. It was hidden underneath his shirt, which would explain why he didn't notice it before. But time was of the essence. He had to concentrate.

Several crates lay strewn across his path like some sort of obstacle course. Walking briskly after the woman had been simple. A bit wobbly occasionally but manageable. However, all these boxes would force him to get his host to perform more complex manouvers that would test the limits of his control. The boy was in a sort of trance at this state. Despite the strange loss of control the boy had, he made no attempt to resist. That was good. He REALLY didn't want his host to start resisting right now.

He slowly and delicately wound his way through the boxes, bumping into many of them. He nearly lost his balance several times, and on a few occasions he actually did, and fell over. But he got shakily to his feet every time and continued. He was a little embarrassed to be seen like this. He looked like a baby who was just taking its first steps. And he was just barely competent at possession too! He dreaded to think what he would be like if he were even less experienced.

Another obstacle lay before him. A street riddled with holes, a mine field of pot holes. It had taken him long enough to get through the boxes. This would be a nightmare. Luckily, it seemed the gap was jumpable. He knew this would probably hurt the kid but there was simply no time to stagger over the holes and he wasn't good enough to maintain balance on a beam. He lined up his jump, ran forward and put all the force of the jump into the legs. Getting to the other side was all that mattered. Even if the landing would be rough.

And sure enough, it was. He landed right on the boy's wounded arm. The child's mind suddenly exploded with activity. He felt like he'd just had the wind knocked out of him as he was nearly expelled from the child's mind inn an instant. But he held on and struggled against the child to regain complete control. He could still move, albeit REALLY slowly and shakily. By the time he got to the door of the house he realised he had a key! But opening a lock would prove difficult at this rate. Whats more, he was starting to feel his soul mist levels drop below what he was comfortable with. He had to take a new approach.

"Kid" Mort whispered gently.

The boy's eyes snapped open in suprise as he looked around.

"Who're you? Where are you? Where am I!? How did..."

"Stop!" Commanded Mort. He attempted to calm the child's now chaotic thoughts once again. "I don't want to hurt you. I want to help you. Is this your house?"

The child sniffed and replied "Yeah..."

"Those bad ghosts are coming after us. Can you unlock your door so we we can both get inside?"

The boy, now shedding tears once more, said: "But I can't. My... My arm hurts!!"

"I can do it for you!" Replied Mort "Just let your arms go limp and I'll handle the rest. I promise I wont do anything else without your permission ok?"

"O... Ok."

Mort concentrated his soul mist in the arms of the boy and lifted them as if they were his own. He met with some resistance as the boy still had control of his own mind.

"Relax. I'll get that door open but you have to relax."

The boy did as he was told and Mort gained full use of his arms. He reached up towards the chest and removed the key from around the neck. He then positioned the key over the lock. As this was happening the boy whimpered in pain from his injured arm which made Morts movements shaky. He missed the lock twice, then stopped for a few seconds and slid it home, twisting it in victory, he pushed open the door and gave the child the use of his arms back.

What was left of Mort's soulmist drifted out of the child's body. He re materialised his usual form, but found it much more difficult than before. Probably due to his significantly depleted soul mist.

"Alright. What now?"