Flashback The Reversed Rhysol

After the death of a friend, Wrenlo makes steps towards internal reflection, emotional control and learns a bit about Malediction along the way.

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A lawless town of anarchists, built on the ruins of an ancient mining city. [Lore]

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The Reversed Rhysol

Postby Wrenlo Gravence on September 17th, 2022, 6:45 pm

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62nd of Fall, 511


“But, to feel this way you do.. that is the point my sweet Lo-Lo,” Gram spoke in soft tone, induced with Blue Vision from a wood pipe. She took the small nail of her pinky and scraped out the black of the ash, cleaning the wood pipe out before packing another dry bit of the water flower into the bowl of the pipe and handing it off to Wrenlo.

It was five days after his eighteenth birthday and he had a troubled mind for a brotherly rival who was now napping in the dust. Not that this was an uncommon instance for him, bodies lay stiff around him quite often in this city. But this friend meant a great deal to him. Someone who was an unbiased ear when he needed to speak his truths as well as a someone who was tough as nails when Wrenlo was dealt harsh realities. He never felt alone in this city with him, but without him; it was hard to imagine how to survive.

Gram was doing her best to comfort his sorrows today. The house was dim lit with candles for the late evening and different pieces of tapestry, old blankets and dusty pillows where sprawled out across the floor. Wrenlo laid against a lump of pillows, cocooning himself for warmth and security while gram sat criss-cross across from him, a stacked deck of leather tarot cards between them with two candles flickering light for her to do a reading. Taking the pipe from her thin and weathered hands he lit a long piece of twine from the flame of the candle then brought it to the bowl of the pipe. He dragged deep and hard from its depth to clear every bit of the Blue Vision, pulling the mouthpiece away from his lips and held his breath for a long few ticks. She continued conversation, grabbing her stacked cards and shuffled them idly. “To be strong.. it is allowing your emotions to take place like they are, not shutting them out. Many strong men must understand heartbreak and guilt, amongst other things. To live with it kindly, and not be swallowed by it. You and Ezrae have both fought so hard to survive this long, together, and it is unfair that the odds took his life tonight. It is unfair that the city we live in is cruel and unwieldy. But you have both known your lifetime here in Sunberth consists heavily on your survival of the odds and you did everything you could to help. You took a chance to fight and knew when to run. Do not have guilt that you’re alive to tell his tale now.”

“I watched him drag his corpse with a tight rope around his chest down the back alley of Goldfinger’s.” He puffed out the words with his long held breath, but there was no smoke left in his lungs to escape. “He threw that rope over a broken corner sign on the wall and hanged him all while cooing and taunting me to come out of hiding. That is not strength, Gram. I am a foolish coward who couldn’t finish a fight. And I ended up getting him killed. Look at me..” Wrenlo open his cocoon only slightly to reveal the purple and blue bruises centering his ribs and lower torso as well as some blood splatters that weren’t his. A long blood-clotted gash ran from under his left pec and disappeared under his arm. When he closed the blanket around him to meet eyes with his Gram again she had pulled a single card from her constant shuffle and laid it out between them, facing him. The Hermit was the first pull of his reading. He knew the meaning well and he stared at it longingly as he spoke. “I never meant for him to get pulled into my fight. Ezrae has always been a brother to me.. backing me up with everything I get involved in. Christoff pulled a shank and gashed me up pretty good, but I had the shykehead straight. It got a bit hairy.. he pulled his weight on me and was ready to stab me in the lungs. Ezrae grabbed him up but then the bastard turned around and jabbed him at the neck instead. Erzae stared me dead in the eyes until he bled out and dropped cold. I shook up so bad, I could barely get myself off the ground to run. And ever since I did, I’ve done nothing but kick myself in the arse for not going back and killing that petcher Christoff with my bare hands.”

Gram quietly listened, still shuffling as Wrenlo reminisced the day’s events. A card fell from her grip, the card of Rhysol, facing him reversed. She paused her shuffling to place the card in same position but second in line from the first card pull. This time he sat up, his thoughts gathered heavily onto the image of the second card placement. Stray tears fell as he adjusted and they burned the small bit of his chest that peeked out of the wrapped blanket. He understood the meaning, but he lacked the clarity to really understand what the pull meant towards his outlook. “How am I resisting? I am admittedly aware I lack courage. I want nothing but change for the better. I want to do better. I want to let go by killing the man who caused so much pain..” Confused, his teary eyes looked into hers for comfort and conclusion.

Gram’s lips pressed thin but the corners perched softly into a smile, doing her best to reassure him into a calm state. “You are pushing yourself into a cycle of fear and self-loathing, even if you project it as vengefulness. If you really want to break the cycle as well as take an eye for an eye then,” she flipped the last card. Facing upright was the Magician. “Take all this pent up rage, sadness and reflection and harness it. Don’t hold back on your emotions and use them in full potential. As I’ve said, that is a true strength to wield, to do so without letting it eat you alive.” She paused and set the the rest of the deck stacked besides his three-card pull. One hand reached out in a cupped position, flicking her fingers a few times before Wrenlo placed the wood pipe back into her palm. She cleaned the bowl out in the same fashion with her pinky while looking him dead on with a stern expression. “What if I told you his unresting body could come into good use for… well, practice of Malediction? What if you took all these extreme emotions you feel and controlled them into a small fragment of his body. Something quite useful for the deed you want done? Putting an end to both Ezrae and your aggressor,”

“I’d call you a crazy old hag who pushes her irrational ideas of practice onto her grandson selfishly.”

“I am crazy, Lo, and crazy is what has kept me up and kicking this far. This trial of pain and recycle could do you good too if can stomach past your sensitive soul.”

“How can you think to ask me such a thing?? After everything said and done.”

“Because,”
she puffed in a long drag and pursed her lips up, blowing the hit above them. “I believe that the bond between you two runs very deep. And in my practice, that goes a long ways into the outcome of a talisman. My love, I don’t speak this way as though he’s an object of use. I say this because the soul still binds to it’s comfort. That bind is a powerful force to be reckoned with. Take a part of him home with you, put your heart into him, and watch him flourish. The two of you have gone so far together, because he has died does not mean he can’t still take part in your life. He still has much to offer in life, even if you can’t see, hear, or feel him now.”

Gram managed a small smile as Wrenlo processed the idea. It was a difficult one to wrap his head around. He didn’t find her idea a sour one, but the work put into damaging his lifeless corpse was troublesome. Ezrae’s kind soul deserved a burial.

“Take this with you tonight,” she handed him the card of Rhysol. “Think of it in your dreams. Change will come wether you want it to or not, but you can create the outcome if you put your mind to it. Have some hope Lo-Lo.” She collected the rest of the deck and set it on the small wooden table to the well, then licked the the tips of her thumb and forefinger and put out the candles one by one. Wrenlo laid there silently, fiddling the card in his hands. There was no sleep to come, but he laid back down against the lump of pillows while the visions of his day replayed in his mind.

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The Reversed Rhysol

Postby Wrenlo Gravence on September 20th, 2022, 8:53 pm

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The third bell of the next morning came but his mind never found sleep. The card of Rhysol laid cold against his chest as he stared aimlessly through the holes of the ceiling. His gram slept against the wall across from him snoring mildly. Before long, he sat up knowing sleep would never come. Gathering the card from it’s fallen position he stood up and placed it faced down beside the deck on the wooden table then moved around the dark of his home collecting a dirty shirt and threw it over his head, then his coat. Wrenlo’s small knife snug inside the pocket, he wandered back to the table and tucked the tarot card in with it. His boots where quick to put on and he was ready, but the last thing he needed was a hatchet of his uncle’s. The house was quiet and he did his best to not creak the lid of the storing chest under the wooden table. Inside hid the hatchet amongst other tools of his uncle’s trade. A job his uncle would easily forget about while on a week binge with Wrenlo’s cousins, never home and never found when needed. A candle lit from behind him and he turned nervously to find his rustling woke Gram, she sat up yawning and wiping her tired eyes. “Be safe in your quest, I’ll have things prepped for when you return.” She knew well enough he wouldn’t come back empty handed.

He was leery to travel alone in the dark of night, often making time to stop and conceal himself behind buildings, leaning within archways or nonchalant against trees. Anything that made him seem inconspicuous to the drug induced or otherwise belligerent and plundering nightwalkers of Sunberth. Once closing onto Goldfinger’s he waited in a sneaky linger of the alleyway tucked beside the old building, watching two looters do the work for him by cutting down Ezrae’s body from the space he hung lifelessly. “The petcher is worthless,” Wrenlo heard one muse to the other as he patted down the body and checked the pockets of his trousers. They decided soon after to strip Ezrae of his shoes and pants then hurried off with the clothing in hand. Wrenlo made his way to the body knowing the men where long gong and no one else was lingering to find him here.

He eyed his lost friend for a long moment, often in between forgetting to breathe with his chest so heavy of guilt. Wrenlo wanted to carry his friend’s body off to the dust beds more than anything, but the trek was a difficult one to make on his own and someone would surely get to him before he’d ever make out. No boat would stop to carry him and the deadweight over sea. The Svefra would throw them both overboard to drown. The more he thought of the odds the heavier his guilt pulled him down. Wrenlo placed one hand on Ezrae’s cold and stiff chest before laying his head down on him next. His eyes where gushing profusely and dry heaving sobs bellowed deep in his throat not wanting to escape. “I wish the odds where different.. I wish I had the strength to stop Christoff before it was too late. I wish you where still here with me, old friend.” He stayed huddled over his body for half a bell sobbing, withholding himself from what he came to do. The stench of the corpse wreaked havoc on him with every deep breath, in the end it rushed him out of his position to lean against the wall of the alley and puke his guts out while hyperventilating between the heaves. Wrenlo’s world was crumbling before him, he was cold and bitter. He was not ready to disembody the one person who held him high and strong. He had no other options, and he was eating his precious time lingering on it.

He had pivoted back towards the body while in thought of watching his Gram do this a few times over amongst the graveyard, following her own quiet chants. ’The hyoid for a voice of a messenger.. the femur in times of speed.. the spine to carry the weight of the world’ each piece of the body carried its own unique power, also depending on who’s body part and what they brought into their life. “Your strength relied heavily in your hands,” Wrenlo muttered quietly to himself, flicking the hatchet out from it’s tucked space under his belt line. “Like me. As much of a fighter as you where a builder.. your hands gracefully guided and shielded me, my brother..” Wrenlo clenched hard to the hatchet’s handle and raised it high above his head, with as much force as he could bring he dropped the blade onto Ezrae’s right wrist. A loud crack came from the bone there, unhinging the right hand from the body. More tears streamed down his face, slightly blurring his sight but he never missed on the second swing, chopping the left hand from the forearm.

The damage had been done, and Wrenlo felt more hardness in his nature. Standing up he tucked the hatchet back into his belt line then dug out the small blade he carried in his pocket, unsheathing it from its leather bound and started with the right hand. He degloved the skin from the meat while taking careful procedure to not damage the bone while he dug the knife deep into the meat of the palm. With some wiggling with the tip of the blade, he was able to pop the metacarpal bones one by one, then tugged them out from their joints with popping sounds following. The smell of the dead was pungent on him now, but the more he concentrated on the job the less it bothered him. The phalanges came out easier through the fingers now that the base of the joints to the palm where damaged and taken away. The fresh small pieces fit nicely into his other coat pocket. He was working on the left hand now inserting the small blade in the same fashion as before, peeling the skin away then making deep cuts into the core. More popping came from his carving of meat, and he’d look up from his work to gaze idly at Ezrae’s cold corpse on the ground. This time no emotion came from Wrenlo in doing so, only a hard pressed expression while looking into his friend’s lifeless eyes. “I have not slept since you’ve left me, brother. Trust that I have an end goal for us both here. When the time comes, you’ll know it. We’ll both have our revenge on that petching shyke. We’re gonna put him to rest for good, you got it?” Wrenlo talked as though Ezrae’s voice was talking back to him. Whatever was said telepathically between the two made Wrenlo smile softly. Rats started scurrying the scene, two taking off with the left out bit of the hands he had just deboned. He felt as normal as his Gram now, no conscious of what he had just done, only lingering determination of the end goal creation. More rats came for Ezrae’s body now and Wrenlo gave a brotherly nod goodbye to his friend’s corpse. He then made sure he collected what parts he needed, while checking around if he had left anything behind before walking away. He would wreak like death during his walk home but he carried no fear of attention and more strength than he started with. In the moment now, he was insensitive and almost humble in his actions.

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The Reversed Rhysol

Postby Wrenlo Gravence on September 23rd, 2022, 3:22 am

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By the time Wrenlo rounded his home in Sunset Quarters, Gram had the candles alive again. The orange glow of them peeking from the holes in the wall. Before he opened the door he stripped himself down deliberately, paying mind to not drag anymore bodily fluid with him. He pulled out his collection of bones from out of his pockets, as well as his small knife, the hatchet and the tarot card he had been toting around and set them beside his boots in a dry area. In pivot to unbutton his pants he felt warmth from a warm bucket of water beside him. Too distracted with his own thoughts to pay any mind that his Gram even prepped him a wash down. Once bare to only his undergarments he reached into the bucket a dug around for the soaked washcloth, wringed it out and smoothed it over his neck, arms and torso. He dipped the washcloth and did the same motions a few more times before moving the washcloth onto his tools to clean the handles and blades.

He gathered his items besides the soiled clothing and proceeded indoors. The smell of carcass that burned his senses had been nullified by the aroma of rosemary and incense.

“Come, Lo! Quickly. While the water is still at a boil,” Gram rushed him in flicking her fingers at him again. She had cleared off the wood table and sat on her knees beside it while stirring a boiling pot of water, rosemary and a tablespoon of vinegar. He handed the small pieces he collected from Ezrae and she dropped them into the pot one by one, analyzing each fragment as she did so. “Are these from his hands?”

“Yes they are.” He paced to a small pile laundry sitting on a chair in the corner, not clean but not real worse for wear unlike his attire outside. “did you leave these out for me?” Picking up the pants he balanced on one foot while shuffling a pant leg on.

“I did, yes.” She kept her eyes on the pot of water while he changed, occasionally stirring and lifting the bones out to inspect. The soft tissue was falling off the bone now, soon enough they would be clean and ready to dress. “How are you feeling?”

Once changed he knelt beside her at the table. “I’m emotionally exhausted to say the least,” Wrenlo paused, thinking over his mood. “I’m not proud of what I’ve done, honestly disgusted with myself. But.. if there is any hope to find him better off than how he ended, I feel like this would be the opportunity. I’m too far invested now to carry any moral of my actions.”

Laid out on the table Gram had several items displayed and ready for the project. The bones where plucked out from the pot and laid onto a cloth, she used another cloth to dab them dry while they lay. Next she brought the small bowl of ash close to her and mixed in a a small amount of water and a drop of vinegar. The ash mixed into ink, it’s consistency not too thick nor watered down.

“Do you have an idea how you’d like to use the bones?” She placed the small bowl of ink before him, then nodded her head towards the twine on the table.

“Possibly a necklace, or a piece to carry in pocket. Something easy to wear or place on a person.”

“Okay. Let’s start by drawing circles on each fragment. We’re going to use a lock of your hair to draw with.” Gram handed him a small knife of her own.

Wrenlo grabbed a small lock from under his mess of hair close to the nape of his neck and chopped it off. With a piece of twine he tied it off so the tip was slightly stiff and pointed. He started with the smaller bone bits first, drawing tiny delicate circles onto each one. Points sprawled out from the circles, curving between each other. Very small speckles where placed at the tip of each point. Then he did the same with the slightly bigger pieces. Each one laid side by side to dry.

He cut several large pieces of twine from it’s roll, starting with one he laid it straightened out on the table. Using two metacarpal bones he crossed them in an ‘X’ shape and laid it on top of one end twine. Picking up the twine and crossed bone together, he used his other hand to wrap the twine tightly around the two fragments, holding them snug into place. Next he used two small phalanges and placed one on each side centered of the crossed bones, the end points of the phalange bones peaked out from the cross indents. With a second piece of long twine he vertically wrapped them tight in their place. There where several parts of Ezrae’s bones left so he made a second talisman exactly the same. When both where finished, it came to mind to prick his finger and press a dab of his own blood onto both talismans. Upon doing so Wrenlo could feel slight buzzing and warmth from under his thumb and slowly run up his arm and through the rest of his body, as though his blood gave reaction to the pieces.

“Decently done, Lo-Lo.” Gram mused, handing him the last length of long twine. He used the last piece to create a necklace with one.

“I guess I wait to see if he does any damage later.” Wrenlo twisted the necklace softly in his palm.

“That is true, but you don’t feel anything now while holding it?”

“I do. Lots of warm buzzing under my skin. Like being covered in blanket for warmth while my body is trembling from the cold, but there is no cold only trembling. No pain or irritation, just warmth and vibration.”

Gram eyed him curiously and Wrenlo knew she questioned wether that was good of bad. “I feel comfortable with it, if it means anything.”

“I have never had the thought of Ezrae wanting to put any harm to you, and I doubt that is the case now.” She would not touch them, but she gazed at them with kind eyes and a smile. “When the time comes, we will see how he effects his killer, hmm? Do you have a plan?”

Wrenlo was calm but quick to reply. “When the sunset comes again, I will find him working along the docks. At that time there shouldn’t be too many folks around, I plan to place the item on him and see the reaction. All else fails, I might have to stab him and push him over the railings.” Having to face Christoff again brought back all sorts of anxiety, but this time he would be ready. Determined, with no fear anymore. This time he’d come out of it stronger.

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The Reversed Rhysol

Postby Wrenlo Gravence on September 24th, 2022, 4:16 am

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He woke late afternoon exhausted yet somehow perked up with stamina and some extra courage. He could not tell if it was his own, or the work of Ezrae’s spirit. He did not mean to sleep with the talisman around his neck, but he had no shivers throughout the cold night of fall. He didn’t even gather a blanket or pillows, so tired from last night he laid flat on the floor in thought and comfortably dozed right off.

Gram was no where in sight once aware of his surroundings and he assumed she was off to her own errands. Wrenlo was quick to gather the only other essential, his uncles hatchet for protection. He put on his uncle’s hooded coat before locking up the house and leaving towards the docks.

The sky was deep orange during his stroll, halfway down the horizon before darkness came. His breathing was light and full, his nerves calm and collected compared to his usual haywire emotions he generally would find himself in during this kind of circumstance. He felt more at ease, knowing more now that Erzae was indeed with him keeping him in control of himself. Wrenlo was content that his talisman was doing wonders for him. He was very curious what Ezrae had in store for Christoff once the other talisman came into contact with him.

Wrenlo flipped the hood of his coat over his head and adjusted the hatchet on his belt line so it stayed tucked under the coat. As he narrowed onto the docks he could see Christoff up ahead at the far end. His coat and bag sitting at the edge while he stood with his back to them, distracted with unloading some cargo and untying ship for leave. Wrenlo closed the space between them quickly, pulling the talisman from out of his pocket and pushing it into Christoff’s trouser pocket while tightening his shirt around his neck and pulling tight in a choke. Christoff dropped the cargo in his arms to flail all while Wrenlo used the other hand to tighten the hold and drag him close to water. Christoff twisted himself out of Wrenlo’s grip, dropping to all fours with slight pant before jumping onto his feet all while never noticing the talisman placed in his pocket.

“You’re a petching fool to show your face,” Christoff scoffed, spitting in his direction. “You know I’ve been lookin’ for you. Ready for me to slash you at the neck and hang you up with your buddy?” Christoff was reaching behind him for a blade but Wrenlo pulled out his hatchet first, swinging on point. Christoff peeled himself back in a dodge but the hatchet still caught him at the hip, ripping his shirt and from the hole a gash wound the bled immediately. It was a small moment that Christoff writhed in pain but it truly only pissed him off and he jumped onto Wrenlo in a tackle, the two rolled around as Christoff tried to disarm Wrenlo of the hatchet. Wrenlo was strong enough to keep hold of the hatchet, even had one open moment to smack Christoff hard in the forehead with the hilt of it once on top of him.

Christoff swung with a closed fist that made contact to Wrenlo’s jaw and he toppled off of him backwards. Some play of fear was twisting into Wrenlo’s head now. ‘Why isn’t the talisman taking effect. What did I do wrong?’ His concerns where slowing him and Christoff found the chance to reach his blade from behind to lung at him with it. The blade cut deep on his upper arm. Once on top of Wrenlo he held both hands high over his head, the blade pointing right at Wrenlo’s neck like their first conflict that started all of this. Wrenlo surely thought that his life was over now, failing all odds and everything he worked towards for this moment.

Christoff flinched, he eyes widening in shock, something had changed. He was gagging profusely not able to catch a breath. The more he struggled to breathe the more his eyes popped out of his head. The knife dropped and both his hands reached for his neck trying to pull away something.. it was as though someone had their hands around his throat but nothing was there. He could see red imprints around Christoff’s neck that shaped out like fingers. Wrenlo was aware it was Ezrae’s hands choking him out. Christoff gagged, rolling off of Wrenlo in writhing and tried to crawl away from him on his back. Wrenlo took the last swing, slicing him at the neck with the hatchet. The writhing stopped but his eyes stayed in shock before finally going limp and bled out.

Wrenlo breathed out heavily, slouching on his knees to catch his breathe. He peered over both shoulders as though someone would catch him as a killer but not a soul was around as darkness covered. With what strength he had left he rolled Christoff’s body to the edge of the dock and heaved him into the water. Bubbles popped at the top of the water as he sank to the bottom. He was quick to throw his hood on and adjusting himself before taking Christoff’s belongings and threw them far into the water. The only trail left to find was Christoff’s stained blood on the weathered wood planks of the docks.

He staggered home in silence while clutching his necklace for all its good luck. There was no throbbing pain at the wound, or soreness from fighting. Only warmth and vibration. Even the light pressure against his shoulder that Ezrae’s hand held onto him in comfort.

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The Reversed Rhysol

Postby Morose on August 26th, 2023, 11:18 pm



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Name: Wrenlo Gravence

Note unable to complete this grading. Appears was posted OOC during Fall 522, but Summer 522 living expenses were never addressed. If you return and address this on your ledger please message me and I will update to add a grade.

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