Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived Cerulean Coast

as written by Sentry

Alianna looked back at Day and chewed on her options. She weighed in what Zacharie and Parov had to say, as well.

Sheggu? Predictably ominous.

"Well, I guess I can't let my elvish curiosity get the better of me every time," she smirked. She made to draw her hand back, but paused. Her brow furrowed. She pulled again, leaning her weight against the doorway. It was as though something had grabbed her, and when she leaned backward, the darkness stretched like a clingy tar. There was a sound like ripping cloth, and when the threads and seams had all broken, everything within the mill simply... broke.

The darkness flooded at their feet and covered their ankles. The cabin was vacated, save for the floor, as black as the ground at their feet.

Alianna whipped her hand free of the goop, mildly perturbed. "It's moving," she observed, pointing out the wriggly mass surrounding them.
 
as written by coffee

Oh, thank whatever higher being was up there! They have common sense! The world is saved! Inhaling sharply, she withdrew her hands. "Yeah," she replied absentmindedly, her heart still racing from adrenaline, "I'm sure there are several opportunities after this...." Her words trailed off after witnessing the goop attach to the elf's fingers. The doctor's jaw nearly dropped.

"What is that?" However, before her question reached the others, their surroundings melted; the world around them faded and Day wasn't exactly sure what she was looking at now. Her eyes followed the elf's, brows raising by the sight of the same dark liquid. Crouching, she swiped at the gel. "Huh... what happened?"
 
as written by Script

Zacharie flinched with the outpour of black liquid, grimacing and stepping back from the tide of darkness far too slowly. The sticky black substance washed over his feet as it spread across the clearing, and he stared down at it wide-eyed, as though expecting it to burn. "Uhm. This is probably bad," he stated, when there were no immediate negative effects. "Isn't it?"

The animancer pulled his foot upwards, but rather than encountering a similar resistance to that Alianna had in retracting her hand, the substance seemed to have changed consistency. It ran off of his foot like ash, leaving behind a thin dusting but otherwise posing no impediment to his movement.

"Maybe we should, er, get out of the strange moving black stuff? Just a thought," he remarked, proceeding to follow his own advice and swiftly pacing towards the pool of darkness' edge.
 
as written by ConquererMan

The flood of obsidian fluid failed, much like the shopkeeper's traveling companions, failed to elicit a response from the lumbering figure. Glowing eyes followed the wave as it ran out of the cabin and over the feet of the explores one by one until it reached his own, breaking against the thick leather cloak and surging against it before finally find it's way around him.

A low grumble denoted the odd merchant's annoyance. The looming monolith didn't move however, as was suggested, but stood his ground as he peered downwards, examining the mass with eyes so keen as to hear the stars sing in the night sky.

"It is alive," the beast noted, seeing the gestalt consciousness's singular desire. The dissecting gaze moved up from the black forest floor towards Alianna, lingering for a moment before focusing on the cabin itself.

"It serves"
 
as written by Emperor Jester

Much like the robed figure at his back, Parov didn't flinch away from the oily substance that splashed and lapped at his ankles in its first waves before slowly pooling around leather hiking books, provoking a grimace from the fiery haired young man. But that was about it. He only got uncomfortable when the light that peaked around his shoulders reflected off the surface of the liquid.

In the semblance of a golden eye staring right...there. Where the wound had been dealt.

And he felt himself being watched, and a chill ran up his spine. It didn't help matters when his tall, dark, and eldritch chum spoke the words, telling the rest of the traveling troop that it wasn't just a creepy pool of runny tar, no. It was apparently alive, and that was just swell. The grimace turned into a barely audible curse before Parov found himself taking a short swig from his flask.
 
as written by Sentry

"A trap set up by the witch that worked here. Had it been stronger, I might have been drawn in and killed," Alianna told Day.

The substance seemed to heed Zacharie's words better than the troop's. It softly inched and slugged and swam away from them, and from the cabin. The elf vaguely gave it notice before peering further into the cabin. "Doesn't seem so tough in the sunlight. Zacharie, do you sense anything else?"

Her first instinct was to go right into the cabin, but after watching her hand vanish, she reconsidered. "Who does it serve?" she mumbled, half to herself, half to Sheggu. She looked over her shoulder at Parov and nodded to him to follow her.
 
as written by coffee

Huh, everyone seemed to take this so lightly. Well, at least to her. It was almost embarrassing to react so lividly; but, according to their leader, the substance did call for an extravagant response. "Oh," Day answered, her hand jeering from the goo. It stuck to her fingers, though after a few brief swings, she was freed. Standing, she observed the area. Could've been killed… that was the reality of it. She had goosebumps already, sure; at this point, the doctor was positive she was shaking. It wasn't a big deal–maybe it was from excitement! Or… shaking her head, she continued to focus on the group.

Deciding to keep silent, seeing how she had no say in the group's fortune, she shifted to her back leg. Her eyes glued to the floor, still evaluating the strange fluid. It serves… the witch really wanted them gone—or closer. This was a trap. There was no way this was so coincidentally elaborated. Lifting her head, she watched as the two from before exchanged glances. Where were they going? "If you're going somewhere to investigate, I should tag along. There's no way we can ensure your safety, but I can at least heal you when the time comes."
 
as written by Script

Zacharie frowned as Alianna spoke, focusing his senses on the cabin and the surrounding area. Where before, he had detected almost nothing, with the blackness gone he was able to sense what it had been masking.

"There are a lot of restless spirits, here," he answered. "A lot of people died here. Together. There's a lot of residual malice and fear. The cabin... this whole area, in fact, is haunted. Something about the black stuff was keeping the spirits suppressed, or beyond my senses, but now I can feel them."

The animancer further narrowed his focus, trying to pick out a single soul amongst the mingling of angry spirits that lingered here. His own soul reached out to it like a lifeline, offering warmth to its chilling cold, calm to its raging storm. Slowly, invisible to the naked eye, it began to come forth in response to his call.

The spirit took the shape of a young woman, wide eyed and panicky. As the call of Zacharie's animancy granted her greater awareness, she let out a terrified shriek - audible only as an unnatural howl of wind to those of the party not attuned to such things. Loose objects and leaves in the area began to shudder and jump, propelled into the air by unseen forces.

"Please, calm down!" Zacharie called, channeling soothing emotions towards her. "Please, we mean you no harm. I only want to ask you what happened. I can help you, if you let me."
 
as written by ConquererMan

The veil had been ripped away and behind it the horrid truth. The Shopkeepers gaze peered deeper into the cabin as the troupe's Animancer divined the hidden spirits, confirming the young man's assessment though not speaking up to do so.

Unlike the magician the enigmatic traveler did not feel the spirits, he saw them. Saw a million different snapshots of their past playing over and over in thousand different instants. He saw their births, their sins, their love, their deaths over and over like the still from a movie real streaming before his eyes. And yet he was again quiet. This was the white haired boy's task, and Sheggulichol would not steal this from him.

Instead the figure's interest shifted back to the oozing entity at the party's feet. He could see it's desire to serve the one it was bound, and where there was desire there was a deal to be struck.

For the first time what had been an indomitable presence towering over the party now was at their level. The merchant had taken a knee, the draping cloak pooling on the ground and forcing the black motes back. A low, almost inaudible hum emanated from under the Shopkeeper's cowl.
 
as written by Emperor Jester

Parov would follow his employer, wishing he had taken a larger swallow of liquor before putting his flask away. This wasn't exactly his definition of a good idea, but it couldn't be helped. These spirits were growing more and more agitated, more hostile. His scar was throbbing both on and in his chest, a white hot pain that threatened to envelop his senses. Starting with the soul. What little remained of his own was frantically trying to flee from all this supernatural chaos, the bad mojo.

Zacharie's fumbling about with the spirit world wasn't helping anything either. It took nearly all of Parov's combined will power and strength to not let his internal struggle show. The young hunter made a mental note to talk to the animancer later, alone. Who knew, maybe he or his so called 'Order' could help. But he doubted it. Besides, even if he could hide it from the others, something told him he wouldn't be able to hide it from the Shopkeeper if the being deigned to pay attention to him.

Still. Duty before personal needs. The cleaver shown bright and sharp in his hand, oiled and blessed, as he readied himself to cross the threshold with Alianna.
 
as written by Sentry

Screaming. So much screaming.

They filled the cabin with their presence, writhing still in pain that was felt weeks before as they perished. Some were hung from the ceiling with spiked shackles that dug into their wrists and bled them out into tubs beneath them. Others were grouped into corners with tubes inserted in their bodies that bled into the same vat. Men, women, children, there was no discrimination here.

As Alianna walked into the cabin, she felt something pulling at her, making her heavy. They clawed at Parov, as well, what what life he had left. They turned their heads towards Zacharie in unison, hollow eyes borrowing though him. In a startling suddenness, they scrambled for the animancer, clumsily climbing over one another desperately. Skeletal hands groped helplessly for his collar. As they moved from the cabin something slowed their advance. Their bodies began to melt and amalgamate into one another. Before they could even reach Zacharie, the mass of spirits sloped onto the ground with their weight. There were stitches between each of their bodies, as though someone had sewn them together.

The elf couldn't see such things, and further explored the cabin. She spotted a very small, wooden box with a lock. Though she was skeptical, she couldn't detect a spell on the box itself, but felt something strong within. Frowning, she picked up the box and turned to face Parov.

"Curious, hm?"
 
as written by Script

Boggling at the fact that their guide continued to push forwards despite the obvious spiritual disturbance, and his cries, Zacharie did all he could to keep the furious spirits away from those members of the party blind to their presence, drawing them instead towards himself by tugging at them with his powers. Where he might have talked one raging spirit down, this abomination of tortured souls was beyond such means.

The female spirit who he had addressed previously was swiftly drawn into the horrific amalgamate with one final cry, and he steeled himself to perform an exorcism of a scale beyond anything he'd ever attempted.

It's fine, he reassured himself as a bead of sweat trickled down his forehead. I've exorcised individual spirits any number of times. I passed the exams with flying colours. All I have to do is scale up and extrapolate the method to ... all of them. Without any preparation time. Or the proper tools.

He gulped.

There was no time to doubt himself. Malicious spirits weren't always particularly dangerous. Alone, they were seldom more trouble than a poltergeist. But in such numbers ... he didn't want to think about what state they would all leave this clearing in if he failed.

Taking a deep breath, Zacharie let his breathing level out, and forcibly slowed his heart-rate. An almost unnatural stillness took hold of him, as his magic slowed his pulse and brought him towards death's doorstep. Towards the restless dead before him.

To his eyes, and the eyes of those attuned to such things, the ground beneath the ghosts began to ripple. Zacharie raised his hands, as through drawing up marionette strings, and chains of light rose around the spirits with them. No words passed his lips as he worked his magic, but the unnatural chill in the clearing grew more intense. Death was close at hand, beckoning to the spectres and Zacharie both.

The chains wrapped around the spectral mass, restricting its movement and drawing tight. They represented an abstraction of the animancer's will, attempting to drive the malicious entities from their waking torment and into the underworld - towards whatever afterlife, if any, awaited them.

It was a battle of wills. His magic against the strength of the hatred that kept them bound to this realm. If Zacharie prevailed, the spirits would pass on.

If he failed? Then death would claim him instead.
 
as written by Emperor Jester

Parov's eyes would grow wide, and if it were capable, he was sure his heart would be thundering in his chest, as dark blue eyes witnessed what the elf's could not. Silently, his eyes and body would follow the swirling conglomeration of spirits away from Alianna, away from himself, and out the door. They'd simply washed over him, ignoring his presence almost entirely, except a few grasping ethereal claws. Perhaps what meager life he still clung to did not interest the phantasms. Perhaps the allure of the animancer was far more potent, worth something to them. Of course it was. Zach was part of the spiritual realm, by choice. The young, red haired Hunter however, was more or less dead. Nothing to draw them in.

With his profile half-turned away, he'd only barely squeak out the slightest of responses, not really looking at whatever the troop leader was holding up. "Maybe we shouldn't touch anything...I don't...like this place."

The power of death, of darkness, was strong here. More powerful than whatever god forsaken tomb he had stumbled across in the Phantom Quarter months ago. Just barely, but Parov could feel it, practically taste it. The cleaver was heavy in his hand, as he struggled to decide what he should do. If he left the elf, she might stumble across some ward or rune or fel creature far worse than those tortured souls. But outside...The amalgamate...the others might need his help.
 
as written by ConquererMan

Their monstrous comrade had for the most part seemed oblivious to the events playing out further into the cabin. To the curious prodding of the Elf. The Uneasiness of the cleaver-boy. The struggle between living and dead that raged on in a realm unseen but to the white haired boy and the preoccupied shopkeeper. They were all petty trivialities at this nexus in time and space, where the curiator from the abyss communed with a million different beings that flowed around him like the stars in a galaxy swirled around the super massive black hole dwelling at its center.

The humming beneath his cowl had grown increasingly louder, rising and falling staccato in volume and tone. If there was a pattern to his melody it was unnoticeable to those simple ears attached to mortal bodies and mortal minds. The sounds enticed the black mass however and while they could not join the chorus the once smooth surface of the legion was now dotted with tiny spires as the motes pitch and tar stood up on end, like the hairs on the back of a man's neck. A moment later they began to jostle up and down, then back and forth in time with the hummed notes. Then it all stopped.

The giant was silent and the mass was frozen in place, like worshipers of a new god waiting for a divine word to be handed down from on high. Still as a statue, the only sign of movement came from the mighty veil between the black mass and the Outterthing as it parted and a clawed hand descended towards the mass. The legion parted and beneath the forest floor. Five out of the six lengthy talons extending from the uneven and crooked fingers dug into the dirt, dragging curved lines towards the center in a clockwise fashion before shifting direction and reaching a single point, echoing the sigil etched upon one of the many dangling pendants around the being's neck.

The throng of motes raged in a frenzy, swirling around the creature, faster and faster. The furthest reaches of the black ooze were slowly gaining speed only to be pulled in tighter towards the center of the maelstrom. The focus of the cyclone drew upon the point which claw met dirt and the first wave began their ascent up the outstretched arm and into the abyss hidden behind old, cracked leather. In a few seconds the entirety of the witch's familiar had disappeared, the deal struck.

With business concluded the towering figure stood upright, ridged as before and approached the animancer. His form dwarfed the smaller human, and even rose an inch or two above the large spectral clump that splayed out over the ground as the conglomeration desperately attempted to wrest free from their bindings.

"Echos," he mumbled as his path brought him next to the animancer, a great hand reaching out to the chained mass. In the bright light cast by chains, and seen only by the two, the pitted and weathered hand was a grotesque gnarled sight. A single claw cut through the air, or in the sight of the animancer through one of the amalgamated spirits, and pulled forth from empty space a locket, solid as the floor they stood on. That part of the spirit simply vanished and the spectral mass dwindled.
 
as written by Script

"I'm sure there can't be anything too bad," Alianna flashed a confident smile, tapping the box a few times. "Where's your sense of adventure?"

She fiddled with her belt pouch for a few moments, biting her lip and screwing up her brow. "Now, where is it... No... Nope... Not sure what that is... ahah!" With a flourish, she pulled forth a small length of silver shaped into a tuning fork. "First, we apply a protective charm," she flicked her wrist, and a small veil of magic washed over her. "And then..."

The elven woman struck the lock with the little rod, causing a single pure chime to ring out through the cabin. Just as the sound was fading, there was a click. The lock on the box had released. Alianna hesitated, eyeing the container for a long moment, then nodded with satisfaction. She hadn't missed any traps.

"Shall we, then?" She smiled ear to ear, holding her hand atop the lid and poised to open it as she looked back to Parov. Then she paused, peering past him. "What is happening out there?"

____

Outside, Zacharie was holding his own against the tide of spectral dead. He stood stock still, his complexion pallid and sweat covering his skin in a thin sheen. Visions came in flashes to his mind. Visions of the spirits' final moments, agony as death finally claimed them from their torture.

He pushed on that. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the strange robed behemoth approach and pull something from the mass, but he couldn't afford to split his focus and wonder at what his actions might mean. "In life you knew that death would be a release," he whispered, "it was to be peace. But now you linger in a bitter, tormented unlife. This is not the peace you sought. Let me guide you all to it. Find your true ends!"

And with a chorus of wails, the mass of spirits succumbed to the chains, and were dragged down. As they passed beyond the veil, their wails faded into gasps of relief. And then silence.

Zacharie fell to his knees in the dirt, just as Alianna was emerging from the cabin with the box in hand. The elven woman tilted her head curiously at the scene, before inquiring: "Are you feeling well?"
 
as written by Emperor Jester

A cold finger hooked itself around his chin and kept Parov from moving his eyes away from the scene of exorcism. He let the elf's question about his sense of adventure hang dead in the air, inhaling sharply out of habit once the spirits were dealt with. The young hunter stood alone in the cabin, watching the others now, and trying to will his legs to move. It wasn't going well. The decaying remnant of his soul lashed out violently at the magics present here, from both the house and his companions. Incantations and rituals meant to send dead things along their proper paths had ill effects on some one who by all rights should already be in a grave.

Parov would rejoin them, but keep silent, taking his place behind and to the left of Alianna, cleaver still wrapped tightly in his gloved hand. Odd were he wouldn't be putting it away the entire trip, not after this brief little incident. Stoic and silent, Parov's vigil would only be interrupted if he reached for his flask, or if something else got a hold of his attention.
 
as written by ConquererMan

"He will be fine, in time," the shopkeeper grumbled. The being's focus was drawn to the pendant, lifted in the air as he inspected his latest acquisition. It was hardly a note worthy from a superficial. A brass clam shell that was connected to a small and fragile chain. The clasp holding the two halves together was long worn out, tarnish around the protrusions where fingers rubbed over it again and again. It dangled partly open as it slowly turned, inside two pictures. One of a man and a woman, and the other a girl who bore a striking resemblance to the apparition that'd greeted the Animancer.

The appraisal over the towering beast found the locket a home inside his robe, the weathered and pockmarked hand retreating back under the heavy leather cloak. The five glowing orbs fell down towards the elf and the box she carried in hand, trying to ascertain what sort of magical paraphernalia she had discovered, but could not determine what was inside.

"Be wary when opening boxes, many a tragic legend begin in such a fashion," he quipped flatly. His gaze lifted up and over the elf and towards the cabin, watching as their red headed compatriot was not far behind the leader.
 
as written by Script

"Oh, well then." Alianna smiled brightly. "As long as you're okay. I'm sure there's plenty more of interest to be found inside! And don't you worry," she tapped the box knowingly. "I'm not sensing anything dangerous, and I've quite an eye for things like that."

And without a moment's further hesitation, she clicked open the box. The lid swung back on its spring, baring the contents to the air. Inside, neatly nestled in a bed of foam and silk, was a set of black rings. The box had space for some thirty rings, but of them, only a dozen remained. They were of relatively simple make, but it was immediately apparent to those versed in the arcane that they were enchanted with a minor magic amplification effect.

Alianna raised her eyebrows. "Well now. I wonder why our resident witch has been mass producing little booster rings? How very curious."

In the meantime, Zacharie just about managed to haul himself to his feet, wiping the sweat from his brow. He looked from Alianna, to the shopkeeper, to Parov. After a long moment, he simply let out a heavy sigh. He was starting to suspect that their role here was going to be as much to babysit their intrepid guide as it was to be guided by her.

"This place was heavy with death," he stated grimly. "Tortured souls. I managed to quiet them, but... whoever lived here, the things they did..." The animancer shuddered. "It was horrifying. Inhumane necromantic experiments, black magic... easily a dozen victims."

"Oh. Oh my." Alianna looked suspiciously down at the dozen rings in the box. "Easily, as in exactly?" she queried.

Zacharie shook his head. "No, not exactly, I don't think. More, probably. By a few."

For a moment the elven girl looked disappointed that the connection she'd drawn hadn't been quite right, but she quickly shook it off. "Our witch has been up to no good, then..." She tutted. "I'll have to mark this cabin on our map, and we can point the authorities in this direction once we're back! In the meantime, let's look around more! Maybe we can find out where she... or he, I suppose. I'm all for equal opportunity witchcraft. Where they disappeared to, hm? Wouldn't that be exciting, if we managed to solve the mystery ourselves!"

"Mystery?" Zacharie quirked an eyebrow. "We're talking about the deaths of more than a dozen people."

"Oh, well, of course that's all very terrible." Alianna nodded, almost dismissively. "But it's a mystery, too! Where did the witch go? Why did they do it? Don't you all want to know?"
 
as written by Emperor Jester

Continuing his watch, his will would finally break as the ginger man reached for, than proceeded to deep drink from his flask. Less than a day out and already down by half. At least he had refills in his pack. If those was meant to set the tone for their expedition, Parov found himself wishing that he'd forgone food from his supplies and stuck firmly to scotch, brandy, and port. Still, with the aid of liquor, the Hunter had found his courage. As he wiped a dribble of spirit from his chin he'd finally speak up, sounding none too happy but resigned to his fate.

"Even when I'm on vacation, I still always seem to find my way into trouble. If some witch out here is kidnapping innocents and putting their spirits through..." A pause, as if words needed to be spoken. "I'm not eager to go on a hunt. But if we keep stumbling into what they've left in their wake, I guess we better do something."

It wasn't a necessarily bold or stirring choice of words, but it got the point well enough across. Parov wasn't going anywhere, and he'd lend his assistance to this nature trek turned supernatural shitshow. "But for now, whats our next move?"
 
as written by ConquererMan

The unending gaze of the shopkeeper centered squarely on the box as the lid was pulled open, taking in the dozen or so black rings. The obsidian colored accessories hummed with magic, and he could confirm the elf's appraisement of their properties. But under their resonating symphony were whispers. Dark mutterings that singed the outside of the song's borders, drawing in those who heard, or in the case of the shopkeeper saw, the minute detail. It was easy for the beast to unravel the intentions of such a sweet, yet sour note, but did not share this revelation with the rest of the group however, it was not their knowledge to have nor did it hinder them by not knowing, unless they were so foolish as to actually wear the accouterments.

The figure's attention however was drawn elsewhere while the group discussed the witch and her abode. A gentle breeze whistled through the canopy above, circling as if a cyclone was over head, despite the fact the skies were as clear and blue as they ever were. The shopkeeper dropped his gaze and slowly, almost unnoticeably so, sought the sign which marked such an unnatural breeze.

From the direction which the winds blew stood a lone stag, two hundred paces further into the forest. It's coat was shaggy and torn in place. It's eyes pallid and sickly. Yet it's antler crown stood strong and tall, neither missing points nor gnarled with age. It's gaze lingered for a moment on the group before bounding off into the thicket of trees that obscured it's path. "Angatautan huanualmorgeet, Has'our," he muttered as soft as the rustling winds above.

"No," Sheggulichol finally chimed in, "my business concerning these woods does not intertwine with the hunting of witches." All five of his glowing orbs stared down directly at the elven guide. His cloak rustled for a moment before a singular, weathered hand extended out with an empty sack, the purse strings open as wide.

"If you wish for my assistance, I will render services upon payment," he added, letting a silence hang in the air before speaking up once more. "Make me an offer."
 
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