Closed We Have The Ghosts But Where Are The Ghouls? (Madeira)

A job that causes Dex to wonder if he is stepping in to do some work or if the work is stepping into him (Job Thread)

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Considered one of the most mysterious cities in Mizahar, Alvadas is called The City of Illusions. It is the home of Ionu and the notorious Inverted. This city sits on one of the main crossroads through The Region of Kalea.

We Have The Ghosts But Where Are The Ghouls? (Madeira)

Postby Dexius on December 2nd, 2016, 7:15 am

90th of Fall, 516 AV
20th Bell


As quickly as Madeira was spitting out information about souls and soulmist Dex was hard pressed to make a mental note of all the various facts laid out to him. Souls were like cake..whatever that was and had more than one layer. So what caused a person's soul to become a ghost instead of going to Dira like everyone else? Could a soul lost to Dira be brought back as a ghost? Questions began to buzz through his head like flies to a carcass. Questions that shouldn't be answered or even have answers in the first place except for one.

"How long could it take for somebody's soul to reform as a ghost?" Dex looked at Madeira with biting eyes, they were on fire and determined to know the answer. But his answer could wait. Madeira was clearly torn about her previous encounter after she fell into a small slump.

Previously the woman had seemed rather strong willed and determined to do her job and see it through. Now she was wallowing in self pity, a trap Dex knew all too well for himself. He spent many days trapped in that void, all the what ifs and how comes, enough of them for three lifetimes.

"Now is not the time to wallow in your defeats Madeira. He might be insane but we are..well at least you are an Alvad. And Alvads are the most insane people I've ever met. So get your head out of your arse and focus." As it turned out, Dex was not exactly the best motivator in the world. Not that he ever tried to be before now.

After she had pushed him away from their locked gaze Madeira cut him with a few sharp words, nothing he wasn't expecting at this point. Turns out she had a plan to keep him from becoming a walking killing machine, as if he wasn't already one. Somehow a few beads were going to keep him from coming into contact with the ghost and therefore possession was not a possibility. And for a moment Madeira almost seemed to sympathize with Dex, her tone of voice was calmer and she was determined to keep him from harm if she could.

Well that was a first. Turns out this day was going to be full of firsts. Dex thought back to his first season in Alvadas when he had run into a very specific artist in a dark alley. She had almost killed him that night and didn't but the following exchange wasn't any less pleasant.

Now for the first time somebody was offering to keep him safe, it was a rather strange prospect and had Dex lost for a few ticks before an unwelcome hand crashed into his face like a boulder.

Dex was more than a little blindsided from the sudden strike at him after what she had just said. Almost instinctively his left thumb flicked out the top of his rapier, ready for his other hand to release it from the scabbard. An old habit he was sorely trying to break.

Moments later Madeira spit out some nonsense about being a Craven and how he should be respectful towards her. What a bunch of shyke. To Dex names meant nothing without action to back them up, so she was more or less blowing air out of her arse in a manner of speaking. "Pompous humans are always tooting their own horns and talking out of their arses. Oooh she's a Craven, so scary I better look out for the Cravens." Dex scoffed at the woman as he turned away from her for a moment. Craven could be heard audibly if the woman was listening close enough, such is the life of proper nouns.

As quickly as Madeira's lash out at him had started it had already ended and she was going on about what little plan they had. Dex snorted and ran her plan over in his head, not something he was used to either. "Right. So don't stab you, got it. Hopefully you wont go killing yourself with him screaming in your head."

Dex shuffled over to and opened the door of Madeira's house, holding it open. "I'll lead the attack then. Just say the word, Miss Craven." With that he returned the cold feelings of her bruised ego with frostbitten words. "Shall we go then, Miss Craven?" He merely stared her down with a rather expressionless demeanor, something that was at this point rather unlike Dex. "We do have a ghost to murder, after all."

Last edited by Dexius on December 5th, 2016, 5:36 am, edited 1 time in total.
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We Have The Ghosts But Where Are The Ghouls? (Madeira)

Postby Madeira Dusk on December 3rd, 2016, 6:23 am

We Have Ghosts But Where Are The Gouls?
90th of Fall, 516
21st Bell

After some choice words in several languages, Dex shuffled over to the door and held it wide. Apparently she was being herded. She was glad that they were finally on their way, after cleaning herself up, making preparations, and filling in the non-Spiritualist as best she could. But his stiff, cold words were finding their mark.
 
Miss Craven.
 
Under any other circumstance she would be proud to wear that name like a badge of honour. But not tonight.
 
Madeira grabbed her still loaded crossbow and breezed by the Symenestra without a wayward glance at his expressionless face. But she couldn't help correcting his maddeningly stubborn terminology as she passed.
 
"It is not a murder, it is an exorcism."
 
She jumped the two low steps that led from the front door to the street. Even in the gathering darkness of a fall evening, an Avalad learned to watch where they step or suffer. In this case, both of the once normal stone steps were covered in fur; one with blue and black stripes, the other a calico of red, gold and brown. She bent to give the lower calico step a pat, and the thing gave a low rumbling sound of contentment. She made a mental note to watch for them when (if) she returned. She imagined they would get nippy if stepped on in the dark.
 
Madeira took a left down the street, as was her custom. Then she took a left at the next street, and the one after that. It was a silly little ritual, that by all rights should mean the skinny, pale human and the skinny, pale Symenestra would be walking in circles. Not so in the city of illusion. She kept her eyes open for the Crooked Playhouse as they took one corner after another. But it could very well be bells before it eventually appeared before them. The icy silence between Dex and herself seemed to grow as they walked.
 
What he has asked before was gnawing at her. How long would it take a ghost to reform? It was less about the question and more about the way he said it. His bright eyes were on fire. He wanted an answer desperately. But she was not going to tell him. And she wanted to explain to him why she couldn't.
 
"Dex?" She ventured after chimes of cold silence. The weathered green door of the Unnayme opened beside them, expelling sweet-smelling smoke and a man with wobbly legs and bloodshot eyes. He giggled nonsensically as they passed. "I see a lot of grief in my line of work." She didn't look at him as she said this. Her eyes were locked straight ahead. "I see how it can eat away at a person. But it's even worse when they hope that their loved one will come back. Don’t... Don’t hold onto that hope. The heartbreak will kill you. Whoever it is you lost, they're gone."
 
Truthfully, a soul could come back years after they had passed. Their was no time limit, as long as it hadn't reincarnated. But to come back as a ghost was a dreadful thing. And to want that for anyone you loved was heinous, if you truly understood what it meant to be nothing but a spirit. He didn't need to know that, she decided.
 
Time passed, and the twentieth bell rolled into the twenty first without either of then noticing its passing. They kept turning left. Always left. Past busy taverns and empty shops, and the nightlife that was just starting to stir in alleys and back streets.
 
Madeira let out a relived sigh as soon as the tunnelling entrance of the Crooked Playhouse came into view. Whatever happens now, at least it would finally be over.
 
But as they approached, and the arch loomed above them, that now familiar feeling of trapped panic began fluttering in her chest. Visions of madness tinged with red flickered behind her eyes. The tunnel below was pitch black, though the stage lights should still be on in the amphitheatre. And in that amphitheatre was a spirit who knew the taste of her body and she imagined it longed for another. The stone arch were the teeth, and the long tunnel the throat. And in the belly was the beast, and its mad laughter reverberated in her mind, accompanied by the screams of a thousand dying birds.
 
"A moment", she gasped, a few feet from the entrance. "A moment. Must check..." She turned her back to Dex and fiddled with her crossbow, pretending to check the trigger and catch mechanism. Truthfully, she just wanted a modicum of privacy in which to fall to pieces. She couldn't let him see just how scared she was. She was the professional. The woman who handled ghosts every day. He had to know that she would protect him.
 
She could be scared all she liked, but she couldn't let him see it.
 
With effort she breathed deeply through her nose and straightened up. And when she turned back her expression was once again under control, though something remained in the stiff set of her lips, and the pull in the corner of her wide blue eyes. the ghost does not come until I call she had to remind herself. And this time I'm armed. She glanced at the hired killer at her side.
 
"Are you ready?" 
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We Have The Ghosts But Where Are The Ghouls? (Madeira)

Postby Dexius on December 3rd, 2016, 8:31 am

90th of Fall, 516 AV
21st Bell


Madeira passed Dex and out of her house without as much as a glance in his direction. Not that he was surprised in the least. The almost relaxed mood had taken a downwards spiral in the last few moments and the air was ripe with venom. But she was determined to correct his terminology, she must always be correct apparently. "Murder, exorcism, whatever. We'll see what it is when we get there and how we have to handle it. If I have to cut it to ghostly ribbons i'd hardly call that an exorcism."

Dex began to follow the woman closely after closing her door with a half hop half large step down to the street proper. He wasn't exactly sure what her steps currently were but he knew well enough at this point to follow a native Alvad's lead if they did something out of the ordinary.

Day was nearing pure darkness now but to Dex everything was as clear as if Syna was still soaring high in the sky. Night to him was just another shade of day. He could see almost perfectly in the dark given his heritage but the bright colors of Alvadas were replaced with dull shades of gray and white. It was almost a shame to see the city in such a state and was almost the definition of juxtaposition.

Left. Left. Left. And another left. In any other circumstance Dex would be complaining about the complete lack of directional skills Madeira had. But Alvadas was not just any circumstance and going left was just as likely to get you where you want to go as going right was. But sadly their place of destination was being rather elusive this night, not something so uncommon though.

For an extended period of time the two had been walking with complete silence between the pair. Not to say that there was silence. Alvadas at all times of the day and night was filled with characters of all sorts and they became the background noise of the city. So silence was not a very easily accessible luxury.

Eventually as the pair were passing by a shop Dex had never seen before the silence was abruptly shattered. Madeira called back to him in a questioning fashion as a man who reeked of smoke and other scents wobbled out of the building. The woman did not look back to him as she spoke, perhaps for the best in this scenario. What she said cut into him like the sharpest blade in the world would into wet paper. Madeira was clearly a woman with a reasonable head on her shoulders, for an Alvad at least and had caught him in his own doubts or maybe his desires. He wasn't sure which it was but they were both horrifying.

"Grief comes in all lines of work mine included..and in all facets of life. Don't pretend to know what happened or know how I feel Madeira. Nothing will make me happier than the day I finally get to visit Dira and forget all that burdens my soul." Dex considered his words after spitting them out at the woman, they almost resonated with suicide but he wasn't simply going to throw his life away for nothing. Madeira could think what she wanted of what he said and that was that.

After what seemed like an eternity the two had finally stumbled upon the Crooked Playhouse. Not exactly a regular place for him to visit Dex was always taken aback by the tunnel like entrance. It reminded him of home in the cave city of Kalinor and in that regard it made him cringe a little inside. He could see fairly easily down what would be normally be a rather dark entrance. The remainder of what lights were on in the theatre glinted in the distance like small gems in the sun.

With her back still turned to Dex, Madeira took a few moments to herself as they approached the tunnel proper. She was fiddling with her crossbow or at least that's what it seemed like she was doing.

When she finally turned to him and asked if he was ready Dex was already placing his right hand on her right shoulder. His left hand firmly grasping the hilt of his rapier as a moment of silence passed once again. The spiritualist seemed to be in control of herself and prepared to face what lay ahead of them. The key word being seemed. Dex knew from experience that revisiting the site of a defeat was not an easy thing to do. It could draw out all sorts of memories and emotions that might interfere with proper judgment and therefore interfere with their chances of living.

"I'm about as ready as I could ever be for something like this." His words were soaked in and bled a strange sort of confidence. "But I need you to be ready. My life will be in your hands and that is not something I take lightly. So show me you deserve your namesake Madeira and perhaps i'll respect the Craven name yet."

With that he removed his hand from the woman's shoulder and took the first few steps into the tunnel. After those few steps he abruptly turned on the heels of his feet. The sandals he was wearing made a soft sound as they brushed against the stone tunnel. "Just do me one favor. Don't slap me for that. You took your free one already." Dex did his best to force out a crooked smile, his fangs were bore and were tentatively awaiting a reason to extend to their full length.

Through all his words of encouragement, bravado, and humor it was undeniable that Dex was just as stressed out as Madeira. This would be the first time he engaged with a spiritual enemy and with that everything he knew about combat and battle were thrown out the window. Back to square one then, he was going to have to learn on the go.
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We Have The Ghosts But Where Are The Ghouls? (Madeira)

Postby Madeira Dusk on December 4th, 2016, 6:27 am

We Have Ghosts But Where Are The Ghouls?
90th of Fall
21st Bell

Madeira's eyes flashed and she stiffened automatically as his hand slid over her shoulder. But his grip was steady, and his hand was warm. By increments her body relaxed into the casual touch. He was comforting her. He was motivating her. The last time someone did that for her she was still a child.
 
She nodded to his words, not trusting herself to speak in anything but a terrified squeak.
 
Dex let go and was first to stride into the darkness. Her weak human eyes could just make out his intense amethyst eyes and the glint of predatory teeth as he turned on his heel to give her a half-hearted quip. It was then that she realized he was just as scared as she was. She couldn't help but laugh, and even to her own ears it sounded slightly mad.
 
She followed him into the darkness. But while his sandals seemed to keep to the lopping rhythm he used walking down a street in daylight, Madeira had her crossbow hand gliding on the wall and her right hand in front of her for fear of running into something unexpected. Symenestra had better eyesight than humans, apparently.
 
Five flights of stairs led down into the earth, and the lights of the amphitheatre grew until she emerged blinking into the dull golden glow. It was just as she left it. The seats were cast in gloomy shadow, but the stage was alight and awaiting its next performance. Glass crunched under her boots as she trod on the remains of the glass jar that threw her off the stage. There were still bits of her skin where the rough stone floor sanded off her hands and knees.
 
She climbed onto the stage. Dead doves were piled on top of each other like drifts of gory snow. The wounded birds had flopped and crawled away as best they could, but it seemed the theatre rats had a nose for the fresher meat. The rodents scatter before her, leaving the bird's eviscerated corpses behind. At least they weren't screaming. Even the rafters were quiet. It seemed whatever doves were left had fled rather than risk another slaughter.
 
There was a smell in the air; something musty and animal, mingled with the meaty smell of the dozen open bellies. Madeira made a point to breath through her mouth as she waded through the carnage.  
 
She pushed aside the heavy velvet curtain to the backstage, and after some rummaging returned with two straw brooms. She handed one to Dex silently. With the other she began sweeping carcasses and feathers off the stage. It would be better if they didn't start this exorcism surrounded by potential ballistic weapons. The corpses left streaks of gummy blood as she brushed them off the stage into a heap on the floor below.
 
With some effort they swept the last of the animals off the stage, and uncovered the rucksack, jade soulbeads, extra jar with one last dough ball, and nine of the crossbow bolts that Madeira had abandoned. She sighed in relief to see that the beads were still intact, and none of her possessions seem to have been messed with. That would make things easier.
 
She bundled all nine of the crossbow bolts and inserted them down the back of her blouse for an easy reach. The jar went back into the leather bag, and the thing was shoved behind the curtain. The beads she lifted up to show Dex, she motioned him over with the crossbow.
 
"So, these are soulbeads." She handed the lot to him. The iron core would make them unexpectedly heavy. "I treated them to soulmist a couple hours ago, so they're still fresh. This will keep out the ghost. Any ghost. As long as these beads are between you and a spirit, it cannot touch you." The jade shells were made of the brightest, purest stone you usually only see on expensive of jewellery. They were really quite beautiful. Until you gave them a closer look, and realized the string connecting them were made of a dozen shades of human hair.
 
"Remember the plan. You need to put these somewhere, park yourself behind it and not move until you're ready to strike." The seriousness of her tone hide the trepidation in her voice, she was pleased to note. "Please take care of this as well." She pushed her ebony crossbow into his already ladened arms. "I'd hate to accidently shoot you." 
 
With that said, she placed herself in the centre of the stage, the same place she stood before. It felt like a lifetime ago.
 
The painted ceiling glimmered above them, changing to fit the deepening night. You could almost imagine you were under Leth's sky, instead of this hateful tomb. The Spiritualist tipped back her head and breathed deep for several chimes.
 
Calm, calm, calm.
 
She rolled her shoulders and cracked her knuckles, and began bouncing on the balls of her feet like she was preparing herself for a prize fight. She glanced back to make sure Dex had set down the beads and was safely behind them. She felt like she should probably say something before they started this exorcism.
 
"Good luck", she managed feebly.
 
And with that, she began to sing.
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We Have The Ghosts But Where Are The Ghouls? (Madeira)

Postby Dexius on December 8th, 2016, 8:21 am

90th of Fall, 516 AV
21st Bell


Some would say that Alvads were the most creative individuals on Mizahar. Others would say they were the most insane. The moment Madeira squeezed out laughter amidst the thickened fog of tension Dex became curious as to which she was. But the end all was that it did not really matter, somebody back home might call him insane. Perspective was a strange thing like that.

Delving into the relative darkness of the theatre forced a few unwelcome memories of his home of Kalinor. The unceremoniously dark cave entrance of his previous home had some very serious comparable contrast to that of the theatre's entrance. He quickly pushed these thoughts aside though as he stepped down into the theatre proper. This would be the second time he had been here since arriving in Alvadas and he was sure he appreciated it more the first time.

The sounds of breaking glass cut the silence in twain as Madeira made her way on stage, the ground around whatever had broken was littered with dried blood and small patches of torn skin. It seemed that her encounter with the ghost was just as bad as she said and affirmed by her previous physical condition.

Following onstage Dex caught a glimpse of scurrying rats and a pile of deceased or soon to be deceased birds. He found one in the pile still clinging to a string of life and watched as that string slowly broke and the avian's movements ceased. The smell of the scene was something to abhor and his nose was now on fire.

Stepping up and away from the pile Madeira returned and placed a broom in his hands. He said nothing and went on straight away assisting her in clearing the area of previously living debris. The battlefield should be in their favor as much as possible and he figured slipping over dead birds wouldn't help any.

A few moments after the deed was done and the stage was cleared, as cleared as it could get anyway Madeira was placing a pile of large jade green beads or shells into his hands. His arms gave way for a moment, they were a little heavier than they looked. She instructed him on how to use the tool and he didn't much care to inspect it any further than that. Whatever it was he didn't care so long as it worked.

Nodding to the previously agreed upon plan Dex was about to place the beads or shells or whatever they were until Madeira also decided to unload her weapon into his arms. He figured he looked rather ridiculous with a pile of the soulbeads and her crossbow taking up all of his arm space. "I know the plan. I'll wait until you give me some sort of signal or you can't handle yourself any longer. Also I appreciate you not wanting to shoot me..." His voice trailed off, leaving the sentence more than unfinished.

He gave Madeira a large margin to work with and decided to set up the beads just in front of the stage's curtains. Better he be far enough away than to be too close and ruin the initial engagement with the ghost. Dex placed the crossbow on the floor inside the beads, drew his rapier and decided to wield it in his left hand, then knelt within the bead's perimeter. Hopefully if he stayed as small as possible the ghost would look over him as it came to be, hopefully.

Dex looked Madeira over as she was apparently getting her nerves out. It was a strange situation to be in for him. Not exactly Alvadas strange or anything like that but something different. She had hired him to assist in removing this ghost but he wasn't the only one here protecting somebody. A shiver ran down his spine as he thought about putting his life in her hands. It was not exactly a prospect that Dex was used to, working in tandem that is.

A few ticks later she turned and wished him good look. "Try not to die, I still have to get back at you for that hit." And with that she started to sing to the one person crowd in the deserted theatre. Not exactly every actor's dream or a ghost hunter's.

Dex could feel the tension in the air growing and gripped the two weapons firmly. The theatre was changing its emotions and hatred was thick in the air. The place was cold and empty, dark and brooding. The ghost was obviously ready for her return, but was it ready for the duo.

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We Have The Ghosts But Where Are The Ghouls? (Madeira)

Postby Madeira Dusk on December 11th, 2016, 7:51 pm

We Have Ghosts But Where Are The Ghouls?
90th of Fall
21st Bell

When the ghost slammed into her this time, she was ready for it. Instead of bracing the intruder, her last voluntary movement was to inhale as deep and fast as she could. Just in time for the creature to take command of her torso, and her breath to wheeze past her lips with a wet stutter. Her legs were the second to be relinquished, then her arms. Her tongue rolled unbidden in her mouth like a thick pink worm, and her eyes did their best to roll into the back of her head as he pushed himself into every crevice of her being. Within several heartbeats the ghost had her body under its total control. The possession took less than half the time it had taken previously, and it it made her gut roil to realize why.
 
It was becoming comfortable inside her. 
 
Standing in the middle of the stage, Madeira was expecting to make another steady march toward the closest chance of self injury- the edge of the stage. So she was surprised when the ghost wheeled her around and took its first steps towards the curtain and Dex. She took this as a sign of luck. The ghost couldn't get past the beads, and it would have to look around in the back to find anything dangerous enough to kill her, giving her a couple extra precious minutes to look through its mind. 
 
Emboldened by this lucky turn, Madeira left only a single string of awareness connected to her body. Her focus was to attack its mind, and to do so as fast as possible.
 
The memories in the forefront of his brain seemed to be the same she saw last time. A whirl of a red haired woman, a beautiful song, and a deep, roaring madness. She latched onto the fragmented memory of the woman, and prepared to dive in looking for her story. If Madara was here, she could rip through him like tissue paper. She could pick his memories like a harvest of cherries. Madeira had to pull herself along his mad leaps of logic and insanity, more drowning than swimming.
 
Meanwhile, her body had approached the soulbeads, and began circling them. The ghost was all force and no finesse with its possession control. It was in her legs, to keep her walking, and in her torso to keep her upright, but it didn't bother with the parts of her body it did not need. Her arms swung leaden from her side, her head lolled on her neck. Tears cut salty trails down her cheeks, since she did not blink. A string of drool trailed from the corner of her open mouth, but she was not breathing.
 
It seemed to be studying the Symenestra with eyes that rolled madly in the sockets. She didn't have even a suggestion of expression on her face, yet she was eying him like he was the crunchy flesh of a nut she couldn't open. She took in every inch of his lanky frame, from the long black hair on his head, to the sandals on his feet and the shiny weapon at his side. Her interest was caught for a tick by the scarf, or rather, by the mesmerizing colour of it. Red like a woman's hair. Red like an open wound. Why did the ghost care? It had never taken an interest in anything but singers before. Why did it care about Dex?
 
She didn't devote the attention to puzzle it out. With everything she had she dug deeper into his memories of the red woman. She unearthed snippets that she had to piece together herself into a coherent narrative. He watched the red woman, he was always watching her, no matter how many people were in the room. But he always seemed to be doing so from behind a canvas, or a prop. The smell of paint was in his nose constantly. When she glimpsed his hands they were stained with colour. Was he a stagehand? These memories were tainted with a bitter taste of wanting something you cant have. And he wanted her badly. He loved her, she realized with a start. But he loved her in a strange, twisted way.
 
The part of her still aware of her body gave a sudden thrum. She focused back on her body just in time to feel her chest expand and contract, and hear the air whistling through her teeth. He was getting her body to breath. The act gave her a sinking feeling of trepidation. The ghost couldn't feel what her body felt. It couldn't recognize that her lungs were screaming for a breath. Why was it going out of it's way to keep her alive?
 
The trepidation in her belly suddenly turned to stone as her hand reached back over her head and pulled out one of the small crossbow bolts she had kept down her back for safekeeping. She had given Dex the crossbow, but had forgotten the blots.
 
Her search took on a new, panicked flavour as she chased the red woman through the shallow pool of memories she could access. She would be able to stop herself from whatever her body was about to do if she threw her soul back into the fight for control. But she didn't delude herself into thinking she would ever have this chance to suffer his possession (and therefore his memories) again.
 
As she searched, her body kneeled and started to poke at the beads with the feathered tip of the bolt. The circle began to tighten by inches into the shape of a crescent moon.
 
Inside his memories the red woman was singing alone in a small room as she brushed out her fiery curls. She had the sweetest voice. So sweet. The curves of her body filled out her sequinned dress. It made him angry to think another man might look at her body the way he did. Staring out of his memory's eyes, Madeira couldn't wrap her head around the vantage point he had. The red woman was brushing her hair, and staring into him unseeing, less than a foot away. Her voice was slightly muffled, and his view was cloudy.
 
Was this… a one-way mirror?
 
With the bolt, her possessed body had shrunk the circle until it was less than a foot across. With clumsy fingers she tried to stab at his feet with the leaded tip. But even with the extra reach of the eight inch arrow, the ghost couldn't do him proper damage from behind the soulbeads. She threw the bolt at his chest in frustration and drew another from her back.
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We Have The Ghosts But Where Are The Ghouls? (Madeira)

Postby Dexius on January 26th, 2017, 7:11 am

90th of Fall, 516 AV
21st Bell


The swordsman watched quietly from the safety of the spirit beads as Madeira suddenly took a deep breath in before lurching slightly. He sure did not envy the woman as he saw her body go limp all over. From his perspective the woman seemed like little more than a meat puppet that was slowly dragging it's feet across the stage in his direction.

Clearly the ghost did not favor dexterity or nimbleness and it almost seemed like the woman was going to topple over at any moment. The Symenestra frowned towards his possessed companion, he could not bear to imagine what it would feel like to lose oneself even for a short while. "Stay focused in there Madeira, you know we have a job to finish to give him all your fight."

Dex wished he could do more from his end of the fight but at the moment he was resigned to observe and wait for his opportunity to act. Madeira's body has finally limped it's way to the beads and began to circle all around him, her arms flailing about and tears in her eyes. Could she see him right now? How could he help her if she needed it or even know if she needed it? He resolved to at least look bold so that if she could see out of her marionette body then she would see he was here through and through.

The ghost circled and studied Dex for a few ticks and in that time he kept his gaze locked on the combined pair. After Madeira stopped circling the beads her body began to look him over up then down. Unexpectedly her body suddenly half collapsed and half knelt down in front of him. Now it was his turn to study her or it or whatever he was going to call Madeira in this state.

Clumsily the ghost reached Madeira's hand behind her back for but a few moments. Dex was more than a little confused at what the thing was up to before it dawned on him even more harshly than the Syna's light after leaving the cave system of Kalinor. It had drawn a bolt from its container on her back and was now prodding his only defense against the spirit.

He wasn't sure if he should attempt to stay within the beads or to take refuge somewhere else in the theatre for the time being. As the circle shrunk and compressed the ghost was able to attempt an assault on his exposed feet. Still, it was not a very agile being and he could easily adjust his footing to avoid any harm.

Obviously angered the ghost threw the bolt in his direction which merely collided with his chest before falling to the floor with a clatter. Now it was taking the chance to draw another so he figured he should take a chance as well.

As quickly and as carefully as he could he used his blade to re-expand his zone of control with the beads. Not exactly a perfect circle like it was before it was disturbed by the prodding of the ghost but it would give him some breathing room at least. When that was done he tried his best to pull back the string of the crossbow with his free hand. With not quite enough oomph to lock the mechanism in place with one hand Dex wedged his rapier in between two boards of the stage before finally pulling the string back all the way with both hands.

He loaded the bolt he had angrily received from the ghost and placed it into the the crossbow. Looking at the thing for a moment he hoped it was right. Dex had never fired a crossbow or even a regular bow but it seemed pretty straight forward to him. The swordsman held the bow in his right hand and redrew his rapier with his left.

The ghost had just drawn another bolt and appeared ready to strike his defenses again. He hoped Madeira would hurry, and that she was okay.
"Strength is born of those with a burdened soul"
"Weakness is born of those with a perfect smile"
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We Have The Ghosts But Where Are The Ghouls? (Madeira)

Postby Madeira Dusk on February 11th, 2017, 2:53 am

We Have Ghosts But Where Are The Ghouls?
90th of Fall, 516
21st Bell

The ghost was staring up at Dex from Madeira's body, crouched on the floor in front of the lopsided circle of soulbeads. It was vexed by his use of the rapier to expand his area of protection, but it didn't show it. Instead, it watched the Symenestra load the crossbow with awkward, unpractised hands.
 
Then it smiled. It pulled her lips away from her teeth in a sneering grin that turned her cheeks white with the pressure. It was the first facial expression it had ever bothered with. Followed by it's first words:
 
"Do it." The creature laughed, and with her voice the sound came out screechy and sharp. "Do it." There was a skittering sound outside the lonely circle of stage lights as the rats and birds left alive ran for cover.
 
Inside his head Madeira was holding desperately to the memory of the man behind the mirror. The mirror he was hiding behind seemed to be a discarded or forgotten prop left to lean drunkenly against the wall of the dressing room without a frame. The red headed woman in front of it was oblivious to his presence. In his memory he looked down at his hands. He was holding a bouquet of slightly crushed roses and a long-handled painting tool. He was nervous. Sickeningly nervous. He had loved her for so long. Now he wanted her to love him, too.
 
And Madeira knew this was it. In the tick she saw him before she was running for her life out of the Cooked Playhouse, the ghost had a bouquet of roses and a painting tool in his hands. He died holding them.
 
The man gathered his nerves. He was smiling to himself, imagining her surprise when he stepped out from behind his hiding place. Imagining her little cry of joy when he presented her with his gift. This would be the defining moment of his life. Everything he wanted would be his. The red woman with the golden voice would be his, forever.
 
The woman finished brushing her hair and turned away to put the comb away on the vanity in the corner of the room. He took this opportunity while she was not looking to step out from behind the mirror. But he was too excited, and too clumsy. His big shoulder caught the edge of the mirror and the thing wobbled before sliding down the wall to shatter on the floor.   
 
In a moment the woman had whirled around in a flash of red hair and a clatter of sequins. He saw her eyes filled not with sweet surprise, but with bitter shock. The cry of joy was a scream of fear. This was not going as planned. Not at all.
 
He stumbled towards her, thrusting out the roses as an offering. His words were thick and clumsy. He tried to touch her but she cringed away from him. She was screeching at him, telling his to get out. She was throwing her perfume bottle, her comb and a prop sceptre at him. This was not going as he wanted. This was suppose to be his moment. She was ruining it for him!
 
Madeira could feel the change in him. The woman’s perfect voice was now an unholy screech that hurt his ears. He was angry and confused. He needed her to shut up so he could think! A huge fist came crashing down from above, and the redhead was sprawled on the floor. Her scream of anger turned into a cry of pain. That hurt his ears even more. He held the painting tool above his head and brought it down hard on that pretty mouth that was saying all the wrong things. Teeth sprinkled the floor like confetti. 
 
Again and again he hit her with his fist and the tool. Her head had split open some time ago, and the red was staining his hands. She was so red. Red like fire.
 
In Madeira's body the ghost was laughing at the Symenestra boy with the loaded crossbow. So confident that he wouldn't shoot him, not while he was in the girl's body.
 
Still on the floor the ghost took it's new pilfered arrow and pulled itself away from Dex and the soulbeads in an awkward crabwalk. It stopped a few meters away and eyed the Symenstra in that unsettling way it had. A string of drool dribbled onto Madeira's chest from her huge, toothy grin. The ghost wanted him out of that circle. It wanted him so bad. It toyed with the shaft of the arrow, rolling it between clumsy fingers.
 
In his head Madeira watched, participated in and felt the horror of the woman's murder. In the end her body was twisted and caved, leaking blood and urine. Her beauty was a smear on the dressing room floor. She would never sing again. And when the man realized what he had done, his grief consumed him. He knelt in her blood and tried to gather the bent and shattered pieces of her body into his arms. His bellow of hate and grief and madness was heard throughout the theatre. As Madeira watched he became that angry, twisted thing she saw in the amphitheatre. How did he die? Surely  someone heard him, or else they would find him in the morning, holding the broken corpse in his arms. They would kill him for this. But at that point, she wasn't sure he cared. He was being consumed by an insanity that was decades in the making. He would come back looking for his red woman, and he would kill those who sang, because they were just pale imitations of her. They were just the ugly little birds who croaked on the stage that belonged to the woman with the red hair.  
 
On the theatre stage the ghost was staring at Dex's scarf, lost in it’s memories. He pushed the leaded tip of the arrow into Madeira's temple and carved a thin arc to the corner of her mouth. The surface of the skin split, showing a line of red. But it was not deep enough to bleed. Not quite. The ghost was staring at him. Watching. watching. How would it crack this nut?
 
It balanced the arrow with the butt end on the floor. It took several tries, as his hands were clumsy and much too small, but eventually he had the arrow standing on it's own. It looked up at Dex again, smiling it's same crazy smile. It raised Madeira's left hand above her head, like he was waving at him. Then with a jerk of motion and precision that it had so far seemed incapable, the ghost brought her hand crashing down onto the pointed tip of the eight-inch arrow.
 
At that moment, two things happened at once. The ghost catapulted itself from her limbs, roaring in shock and pain as a piece of it's soulmist was ripped from it's body. And without it's mind to hold on to, Madeira was slammed back into control of her body. The arrows were imbued less than two bells ago with Madeira's soulmist. By injuring her, it had hurt itself, though not significantly.
 
There was a one tick of silence as Madeira knelt there, her body now her own, staring at the five inches of bloody ebony that had erupted out of the back of her hand. A whimpering, keening sound was coming from her throat. Her head felt empty and hollow, ringing with the memories of madness and murder that were not hers. She opened her mouth just as tears started flooding down her face in response to a pain she couldn’t feel yet. Her voice was hushed. If she spoke louder she feared she would scream, and never stop.
 
“Dex," her voice cracked. "Oh god, Dex."
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We Have The Ghosts But Where Are The Ghouls? (Madeira)

Postby Dexius on February 18th, 2017, 4:54 am

90th of Fall, 516 AV
21st Bell


"Do it" screeched the ghost at Dex through Madeira. Suffice to say the way the creature controlled her body and the fact that it was now speaking through her was enough to give him goosebumps. The way her voice cackled and shrieked as opposed to her earlier calmness or even with the sternness from earlier made her seem like a completely different person. Thought it did remind him that he would need to get back at the woman at some point for the slap in the face, literally.

Dex shook his head and refocused on the event at hand, he had to be ready for the ghost. He found the grip on his rapier much tighter than usual. That was a strange thing for him, given that all the training he had received from his father told him to never do just this. He was nervous. He had to admit that much to himself. This was a fight he was woefully unprepared for, both physically and mentally.

One deep breath out and Dex tried to steel himself for what laid ahead. He had not let a person, client or not die under his watch since that fateful day. He was not exactly prepared to start now. Refocused on the ghost now, he realized it had put some space between itself and him and was now trying to balance one of the crossbow bolts on the floor. It was a curious thing for the being to try to accomplish given its previous lack of dexterity but it did eventually succeed.

As if everything couldn't get any weirder than it already was, which on its own was something rather rare in Alvadas the ghost then appeared to wave at Dex for a moment. Dex blinked for a few moments, a little caught off guard by the gesture. Had Madeira succeeded? The look on her face betrayed that thought in an instant.

Even more so than that, what happened next surprised Dex even more and it had happened so suddenly. The ghost had brought Madeira's hand, the one he thought was a sign of her victory down forcefully onto the tip on the balanced bolt. He cringed while standing in his little circle of safety as he saw the bolt burst through the other side of Madeira's hand.

He didn't know what to do. A few ticks passed and he heard Madeira call out to him. It was definitely her right? The ghost didn't know his name. It had to be her. Dex looked down and all around. What would he do? What could he do to help her?

"I'm coming over Madeira! Hold on one moment." Quickly he tucked the stock of the crossbow under his left arm and hoisted the soul beads onto his shoulder with his right hand. Not exactly used to being weighed down with much gear Dex slugged on over to Madeira as fast as he could while also looking all around making sure nothing decided to creep up on him.

When he finally got a look at her hand Dex realized it was as bad as he thought it might be. The tip of the bolt was sticking straight out of Madeira's hand and she seemed to be in too much shock to do much about it. As gently as he could he threw the soulbeads over and around Madeira, attempting to not hit her with them before tossing the crossbow inside with her.

Dex knelt down in front of her and checked her hand with the free one of his own. "It's uh..it's not so bad..we can we can fix this." He tapped her face in an attempt to get her to focus on the issue at hand. "Madeira...we're going to have to break the bolt to get it out of your hand."

With the plan of the moment ahead of him, Dex placed his rapier down on the stage with the blade resting on the soulbeads. "Better think ahead on this one..." With that out loud thought Dex ripped apart the bottom of his shirt to use as a makeshift bandage. Turns out Madeira wouldn't be the only one to do that today. With the cloth to the side Dex gently grabbed at the shaft of the bolt. Luckily not that much of the shaft pierced through her hand. But he would still have to slide the rest of it through her hand to get it out and he was sure that wouldn't be very comfortable. Not at all.

One hand rested on Madeira's shoulder in an attempt to reassure her about the additional pain she was about to receive. "I'm going to count down and break it. Then we have to pull the rest of the bolt out of your hand, okay? It's going to hurt...a lot I'm sure, but there's not other way for me to get it out." With not much else he could say to her Dex grasped the bolt and prepared to snap the thing in half. "Okay..three...two..one!" As quickly as he could Dex snapped the shaft in twain.

Surely Madeira was going to cry..or scream out in pain at the sudden force of the bolt breaking but he had to press forward and remove it. Grabbing her wrist first and then the tip of the bolt he slid the remains of the weapon out of her hand as quickly and as gently as he could. If such a thing existed in this scenario that is. Dex threw the bolt tip to the side and quickly began to bandage the gaping hole in Madeira's hand. It probably wouldn't be enough. No. It definitely wouldn't be enough but he was not going to tell her that right now.

Their hands were now blood soaked, grimy, and probably full of splinters. Dex didn't know much else to do in this particular moment so he wrapped his right arm around Madeira and let her head rest against his shoulder for a moment.

Luckily for Madeira, even leaning out onto Dex's shoulder she was still half inside the soulbeads. Unfortunately for Dex this was not the case, he was entirely exposed outside of the beads.

The two sat there in a few moments of silence. The only thing to shatter it was the sound of them breathing.

And then for Dex everything started to get fuzzy and the world began to spin. The stage was upside down and he couldn't find it in himself to move. He felt cold, colder than he had ever thought possible in his entire life. In that moment the only breath that could be heard was Madeira's.
"Strength is born of those with a burdened soul"
"Weakness is born of those with a perfect smile"
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Embracing the fear, chasing the fight
 
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We Have The Ghosts But Where Are The Ghouls? (Madeira)

Postby Madeira Dusk on February 21st, 2017, 5:40 am

We Have Ghosts But Where Are The Gouls?
90th of Fall, 516
21st Bell

The sharp sound of the weighted beads being thrown over her head and bouncing on the hollow stage made Madeira flinch, sending a wave of fire up her left arm.
 
With a gasp she shut her eyes tight and tried to use the pain to centre herself. Her soul felt tissue thin, her body was worn and used up, and her mind was distended and ringing. But that searing pain was something all three felt in common. She breathed hard through her nose, taking in the musty smell of birds and the salty tang of blood, and rallied all of herself around the pain lancing through her hand. This was her pain. This is what she felt, not the ghost. These were her thoughts, and they would be her memories, and he could never touch it.
 
Dex tapped on her forehead with a rock-hard fingernail, jolting her out of her meditation. He explained that they would have to break the arrow.
 
"No" she pleaded, ”No, please, don't." She was barely holding onto her composure as it was. But for all her protesting she did not push him away or try to remove her hand from his gentle inspection.
 
The snap of the ebony breaking, and the crackling of the shaft as it scraped against her bones, was completely drowned out by her sharp, inhuman screech of pain. The Symenestra threw the broken projectile aside and wrapped the wound with his pallid, spidery hands. Then he drew her to his shoulder as a fresh wave of tears washed down her face.
 
Her breath was ragged and fast, and her heart was thundering through her chest. His breath was tight and stressed, ruffling the hairs on the top of her head. But after a long moment of silence, she felt his chest compress and not refill. His breath eked out in a dry exhale that turned her cold. She waited for him to gasp, to breath deep and let his nervous energy go with a rush of air.
 
She waited for one beat.
 
Two.
 
Three.  
 
The truth of what was happening made her stomach roll. Her breath unconsciously turned deep and calm, as if her body was working for both of them. That was not Dex.
 
Except that it was. This was Dex, the insufferable, heroic Symenestra with a pointy sword and a cavalier attitude about death. He was still in there, conscious, and probably confused and scared. And she promised to protect him the same way he was protecting her.
 
She wiped away the tears with the back of her good hand and took a shaky breath. She wrapped her arm around his waist and spoke into his chest.
 
"Hey, Dex. You're going to be ok. You've... You've been possessed. But I'm going to fix this. I need you to go somewhere nice, ok? Find a nice place in your mind and live there. You don’t have to watch this."
 
She pulled herself fully back into the circle and drew his blade across her lap. Her eyes hardened perceptively as she watched the ghost of a murderer in his new body, and waited for him to show himself to her. 
 
There is always a phrase, a word, that has the potential to destroy someone. She knew the stem of this ghost's madness, she knew what his horror tasted like. She knew his deepest, darkest hate and she could use it against him. She just needed to find the words.  
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