A Ghost and Other Such Nonsense (Solo)

[Muldris Koffurn]

2nd of Fall – 511 AV Muldris Koffurn sat in the darkness of his room while working on his small table. It was a fine day to go find a ghost. The Legate didn’t really have a protocol when it came to ghosts. He just would go with the flow. Sometime they were mean and got slain, but most of the time he would just want to chat with them. Ghosts were interesting folks. Most of them had some conviction or experience that wasn’t easily found in the living. How many living folks can tell a story about their death? Koffurn gave an amused sigh at the notion. “Making some soulmist... so the cranky ghosts don’t get pissed!” Koffurn sang and then hummed tunelessly for a little while. He mixed the egg, flour, and cheese in a jar. The next part was his least favorite. The Legate pulled one of his daggers out and examined its edge. Slowly, he ran the semi-sharp knife across his palm. He winced in pain, but the cut wasn’t deep at all. The blood flowed into the jar, turning its contents a dark pink. He lifted up the mixture to smell the odd concoction. The scent was strangely pleasing. It smelled earthy and strong. The soulmist was actually making Koffurn a bit hungry, but he was always hungry. Eating was a low priority for the Legate due to the abundance of so many fascinating things to do. He drank the grayish pink sludge quickly. The taste wasn’t all that bad, but it did strange things to a long empty stomach. Koffurn felt oddly bloated and hungry simultaneously. He stretched, slammed his hands on the table, and stood up abruptly. He tossed on his clothing haphazardly and made for the door. Koffurn didn’t bring his bag or anything except his daggers. The two blades rested lightly at the sides of his calves. The Legate couldn’t use them particularly well with his physical arms so he found putting them on his calves, where his projection could easily reach, seemed more sensible. Koffurn glanced around the room as he opened the door. The outside light illuminated the small space despite the sky being laden with heavy rain clouds. The sound of heavy rain on the roof was soothing, as was the sound of it on the streets. By the time Koffurn had put considerable distance between him and his house, he began looking for ghosts. A small, empty street, which looked as much an alley as a road, caught his eye so he decided to travel in that direction. The sun was staining the horizon a lighter shade of grey when a male ghost came into view. The Legate praised his luck. Koffurn ran over to it full of excitement despite interacting with ghosts many times a month. The ghost’s first instinct was to flee. It wasn’t every day that a ghost has a scrawny kid sprinting towards him, but the ghost ended up standing his ground, perhaps to maintain a sense of pride. Koffurn dodged a sloppy punch and sprung forward with an extended hand. “I’m Koffurn,” he blurted. The ghost blinked in utter confusion. The ethereal man reach out and returned the handshake. The feeling was odd but Koffurn wouldn’t call it unpleasant. Given, this is coming from the kid who didn’t find much anything unpleasant and just about everything odd. The ghost blinked a few times and responded unsure of what it should be feeling exactly, “You got soulmist?” Koffurn nodded solemnly and the ghost nodded in response. “My name is Terva.” Terva gave the boy in front of him a few looks and then waited. Some ghosts are so boring... The hazy man in front of Koffurn looked impatient, but the Legate didn’t really care. He lived at his own pace and some ghost wasn’t about to change that. The rain was really coming down a lot harder than Koffurn had expected. The ground glistened slightly as water accumulated on the surface. The ghost of course didn't mind, but he began to shiver. The cold was great but he couldn't help feeling a little bit frigid as the night air and cool rain robbed the warmth from his bones After a few minutes of examining the ghost, he spoke up, “So if I give you soulmist... What do I get?” Ghosts are such a pain sometimes... Sometimes I don’t know why I even bother! Dealing with ghosts seemed like an endless cycle of trading and negotiating. It was half business transaction and half conversation... It wasn’t the most enjoyable way to spend time, but it was certainly an interesting one nonetheless. Terva scoffed and then started to laugh. The silence of the streets banished momentarily by the ghost’s moment of amusement. The ghost’s voice was drowned in antagonism, “Your soulmist is probably so poor that I would need to find a real spiritist to mend the wounds I get from absorbing yours.” The joke wasn’t funny and Koffurn just scowled in response. The ghost certainly did not seem strong enough to be so particular and mean. His punch had been sloppy, his materialization was amateur at best, and his overall manner was less than impressive. The Legate decided not to argue and give Terva a bit of soulmist to see where the encounter went from there. Luckily, the sun was still young and the street was empty except for a few critters. Koffurn opened his mouth as wide as he could and slowly reached his hand to the back of his throat. He gagged and bent over, but his natural inclination to resist vomiting was too great. He stuck his hand in again, this time more forcefully. Unfortunately, he gagged and could practically taste it in the back of his throat, but again, nothing came out. The ghost failed, likely on purpose, to stifle its laughter. Which brought color to Koffurn’s cheeks. Gods, why do I do this to myself? Finally, he managed to cram his hand back so forcefully that the faintly glowing ooze filled his mouth. The Legate swallowed about half of it and then spat the rest into his hands. Terva absorbed it after Koffurn offered it politely. With a sneer, the ghost barked, “Ha! I was right... Garbage...” He would say that even if it was the best soulmist he ever had... He’s just trying to cheapen the value of his favor. It didn’t matter though. Koffurn had decided a few minutes into the interaction that he would take his favor. After a moment of hesitation, the ghost, smarter than Koffurn had given him credit for, went and grabbed one of Koffurn’s daggers with his soulmist projection. Koffurn had detached his arm and his dagger jumped from its sheath under the influence of his astral body. The Legate plunged his functioning hand into his mouth and barfed up the remaining soulmist. The ghost’s dagger flew through the air and bit into the boy’s side causing him to yelp. The knife Koffurn controlled scraped loudly against the ground in order to absorb some of the soulmist puddle before cutting upward in large arc.

[Muldris Koffurn]

The two blades danced in the air, both propelled by invisible forces. Parrying or blocking was useless so Koffurn leapt back and side-to-side while the ghost carried out similar evasive maneuvers. Koffurn would see an opening but be unable to exploit it due to the need to dodge one of the ghost’s attacks. A few times, the ghost’s attacks came so close that the Legate would have to bat them away with his functioning arm, which was now covered in shallow cuts. Koffurn’s attacks were quite shoddy and his wide swipes gave Terva plenty of warning. That is not to say that he wasn’t landing some satisfying blows himself though. Koffurn had struck the ghost a few times and he could tell that its power was waning. The novice spiritist was tiring also, but he could see his victory nearing and so could his ghostly adversary. With panicked wail, the ghost launched the knife into his enemy’s shoulder. The blade cut into the flesh before the momentum sent it spinning out and past Koffurn. The ghost went to flee, but Koffurn had detached his other arm and seized the ethereal foe. “This existence has left you bitter, my friend. I free you and hope one day you will thank me,” Koffurn said gravely. The soulmist infused dagger shot forward and stabbed viscously until the ghost was gone from this world. Freeing ghosts was never quite enjoyable. It was oddly satisfying but definitely not something that he relished. “Terva is now dead for real. Whatever business kept him on this world is now inconsequential...” he said with a voice full of something like mourning. It was rare for Koffurn to have killing the ghosts be his side of the deal, and it didn’t get much easier with time. He just couldn’t stand to see people grow so bitter and jaded. If he were ever a ghost for long, he would want to be put out of his misery. Koffurn figured it was one of the oddest favors one could give. It was after a few minutes of reflection that Koffurn remembered the wounds he had suffered. His left arm was pretty cut up and his shoulder wound was staining his clothing. He regretted traveling so far from his house, but he began the walk back without much more complaint than that. None of the cuts were deep and he would just need to bandage it up. On the bright side, he was ahead of schedule. He had expected his ghostly interaction to take a few hours, but he had hardly spent a single one dealing with cranky Terva. Koffurn happily hummed an eerie tune as he walked back towards his home. Summer had always been too hot for him, but this season would be just right. The subtle spring in his step was a bit less subtle today. It was a new season, and new seasons meant new reasons to live. A fresh season meant fresh relationships and fresh adventures in the quaint city of Sunberth. Of course, Koffurn had said the same thing a season ago and nothing happened... The young man kept his eyes peeled for anyone interesting or different. Sunberth was full of interesting folks, but the trick was to find the right balance of exciting and dangerous. Unfortunately, it was still fairly early in the day and the air was crisp as rain poured over the city. The rising sun could no longer be seen for giant, dark clouds filled the sky. Everything seemed better despite being essentially the same, but Koffurn didn’t really care how similar it was. He felt different and that was all that mattered to him. His odd humming attracted some curious glimpses from the city’s early birds rushing through the rain, but for the most part, the small Legate went unacknowledged through the streets. Sunberth, like any other city, was filled with strangers... strangers who didn’t really care about some squirt who barely graced their field of vision. Koffurn sighed. The rains had driven many from the streets, and now garbage and rats were everywhere. The Legate contemplated trying to catch a few in order to practice his Malediction but decided against it. Catching rats would be a pain and killing them would not leave him in the best of moods. The streets didn’t smell particularly great, but Koffurn’s proclivity to label things odd or interesting rather than good or bad made a strong showing as he thought of how unique the streets smelled. A rat scurried by, its soaking wet fur revealing a bulging stomach. With this much garbage the rats are sure to feast! Koffurn finally reached his humble abode. He opened the door and stoked the fire like he always did. His eyes were used to working in the dim light the fire pit offered. He liked the darkness. In a lot of ways, he even loved it! It offered a sort of intimate privacy and encompassing comfort. The dark wasn’t unknown to Koffurn. It was merely empty, and in that emptiness, he found a peaceful solitude. He wandered over to his washbasin and gently removed the wet and dry blood from his arm. Some of the wounds were a bit more serious than he had first diagnosed, but he just wrapped all of it up in bandages and figured they would heal. Scars could likely form, but Koffurn had not interest in physical appearances. A body is merely a body. The presence of a soul is the only thing particularly amazing about it. He had contemplated many times removing one of his fingers in order to make a Maledicted compass that could find him, but the Legate always decided that he wasn’t ready to do something that drastic yet. Perhaps today would be a day to work on some Malediction. I may as well try and make something... I have all these unused remains... He reached into the chest at the foot of his bed and pulled out the twelve ears he had. Ten were ferret ears and two were wolf ears. They had been shriveled due to a salt treatment, but the furry sides were still quite fuzzy and soft. Koffurn figured he could make some sort of necklace or bracelet that improved hearing. Wouldn’t the elderly just clamor to get their hands on it! He laughed to himself. He pulled out a long string of ferret leather that he had cut and brought the ears and the string to the table.

[Muldris Koffurn]

He went over to the table and placed the animal parts on the table. Next, he removed one of his knives and dug it idly into the table until it stood up straight. Koffurn realized that he hadn’t tended to the wound on his side. The Legate didn’t want to stand up again. He wanted to get working, but in the end, he stood up and walked over to the washbasin. Washing out the side wound wasn’t quite as bad as he had expected. Koffurn poked the pink line and winced, but it felt slimy and he didn’t regret doing so. Life is perfect if one never regrets... I won’t regret. I will transcend regret. He lazily wrapped a bandage around his torso like some sort of belt. Koffurn went back to the worktable and withdrew the knife. He was about to start cutting when he realized that the fire wasn’t bright enough. The Legate figured that he’d better throw on a few more logs in order to increase the room’s brightness. Koffurn went over and dragged the small table closer to the fire pit in order to get the best light. He whistled for a few seconds while the fire devoured the new logs and cast long shadows in the room. It was time to start work, but he needed yet another forgotten item. At this rate, I am never going to get started. Geez I should really get some sort of notebook or checklist... He stood up, frustrated. The chair toppled over and one of the legs sat dangerously close to the licking flames. Let it burn... Let this whole house burn! I wouldn’t regret it. Koffurn was very irritated. The whole ghost ordeal and his forgetfulness had him more than disgruntled. The leg of the chair was blackened by the time he retrieved his faithful, ol’ etching kit. It was useful for working with leather despite being made for more sturdy materials. Koffurn set the two wolf ears aside. He couldn’t really use them yet. He wasn’t at the level to start mixing the sources of the parts. He fumbled around with the ears and found the two most pristine. He had marked very small notches into the bases of the ears in order to identify the ears that came from the same ferret. These, luckily, corresponded with the notch in the leather strip he had removed from the chest. Finally, I do something right! He gave a giddy couple of claps before setting to work. The Legate figured the ferrets had pretty decent hearing so he would try to emulate that in this particular item. The prep was slow. He had had to configure the band of leather and the two ears into a single bracelet. He cut two very thin strips from the top of the leather strip. Koffurn then put two small holes in the leather and a small hole in each ear. He lined up the ear punctures to the leather punctures and wove in the thin leather threads he had just cut. The knots were poor but would hold well enough.

[Muldris Koffurn]

Once the ears were secured to the leather bracelet, Koffurn continued to work on the item’s functionality. The wristlet needed to be wearable so he went on to make a sort of latch so it wouldn’t fall of the wrist. Koffurn cut off four rectangles, two from each of the band. This left a thin line on each side that could be knotted together to secure the bracelet to the wrist. It wasn’t the most artful, but the Legate had no need for a visually pleasing piece. The two thin pieces of leather would be sufficient, and sufficient was sufficient for Koffurn. The easy part done. The ears hung nicely from the bracelet and Koffurn tied it around his wrist. The fit was loose, but it wouldn’t be falling off without significant effort. He untied it and rested it on the floor by the fire. He needed the best light in order to make his circles perfectly. ... and so it begins. Here goes nothing... He lay down on his stomach and began to work after he transferring the knife and other tools onto the floor beside the bracelet. It took him a moment to start the circles. They had to be perfect or else it wouldn’t work. The pressure and challenge this presented had his breath quickening. A think tool used for etching bit into fleshy side of the ear. At first, he feared he had cut through, but after moments of searching the other side and finding no such puncture, he resumed work. The circle was intricate and had to be done perfectly. As he worked, memories of his former master filled his head. The lashings and kicks felt fresh despite happening years ago. His heart fluttered with anxiety. Koffurn couldn’t remember how to make the circles without all of the awful experiences he suffered as a slave. By the time he overcame the unpleasant emotional surge, Koffurn had etched just about a quarter of the first circle. He wasn’t particularly adept at doing so and, though he had a poor sense of time, Koffurn figured at least an hour had passed. He went back to work with renewed confidence. The circle was looking really good and he steadied his breathing as he progressed. Every line and etch was done painstakingly slowly. The care with which he operated was excruciating, but he persisted. The final product was more important than his mood, so he bit his lip and persevered. He finished work on the first circle and held it close to face in order to examine his work. It looked good. He nodded and ran his finger over the soft leather and its marked surface. Koffurn decided it was done well and congratulated himself with a nice cool drink from his water skin. The smoke had collected as usual. He moved over to the door and opened it. The light outside was blinding but Koffurn caught his arm before it could instinctively shield his eyes. It was raining still, but the light outside still was blinding compared to his dark room. He hated doing things instinctively. He was the master of his own body and wouldn’t stand for such involuntary actions.

[Muldris Koffurn]

Koffurn sat with his door open and watched people pass for a while. The day had been young, but it was certainly not anymore. The rainy day's meager light was fading. The day would be done in a matter of hours and the night's blackness was already encroaching on the horizon. Koffurn amused himself by staring at passing people. He would create stories about their lives and destinations. Usually, it would occupy his attention for hours, but he had important work to finish. Once the smoke began to trickle out opposed to pouring, the Legate stood and returned to his quarters. He shut the door behind him and warm flames replaced the dull grey light. Koffurn went back to his etching and carving. He added a nice cursive “L” into the Malediction circle. He rushed it a little because the letters were pretty much the only part he didn’t need to take slowly. The speed with which the letter was finished offered an odd satisfaction One letter down and five to go! He cracked his fingers in attempt to relieve the cramping. Koffurn went to work on the other ear. The work was still slow but he was growing more comfortable with the medium. His fingers began to cramp causing them to put down his tools. He began to stretch his fingers by the fire’s warmth. Soon, the cramping faded into a dull pain. Koffurn went back to work but was forced to stop again by his fingers. He was beginning to cut himself as his hand’s deftness waned. The blood from his fingers made the tools more slippery than he would have liked. Koffurn went over to the washbasin and washed his hands. The frustration of the day was building and he paced around the room in an attempt to diffuse it. He felt off for some reason. It was as if he had some sort of sickness, but it wasn’t a particularly bad feeling. It was just really odd. The Legate shortly considered calling it a day, but he wanted to finish. He needed to finish due to his conviction and drive. With an exaggerated sigh, Koffurn returned to the floor and picked up his tools. It didn’t take much longer to finish the second circle. When he put the finishing touches on the intricate circle, he carved in a nice little “N”. Two down and four to go! I can do this! I can really do this! Koffurn held the piece up to the light. Everything was turning out great despite the growing discomfort inside of him. It was time to make the four remaining Malediction circles in between the two ears. The ears would act as the first and last letter of the word. Koffurn began work on the leather band. It was similar to the ears but different enough to require some alterations to his technique. The third circle was slow, but he started to build momentum after a little while. The smoke was building up again, but he could not afford to lose his momentum. His fingers were growing more and more painful, but his growing experience counteracted the finger detriments and he was making the circles at a steady rate.

[Muldris Koffurn]

The smoke stung at his eyes, but he continued to work. The smoke filled the room from top to bottom, but even on the floor, Koffurn became unable to evade the smoke’s smothering embrace. Every couple of breaths brought a fit of coughing, but the Legate continued to work. The fourth circle was almost complete when his fingers began to shake. Every stroke had minutes between them as he tried to steady his hands. Soon the fourth circle was complete and Koffurn went to open the door. The smoke cleared as he watched the rain pour relentlessly. It could be night but it was hard to tell with such heavy clouds. It was dark though. Shadows crept across the street from one destination to the next. One passed merely a foot in front of him, but the darkness hid their identity. Was it a man or woman? Human or other? It was impossible to tell. Koffurn shut the door after awkwardly shouting a pleasantry to a passerby. He knelt instead of lying this time. With an aching hand, Koffurn added an “I” to the third circle and an “S” to the fourth. “Only two more to go!” he shouted enthusiastically. He couldn’t convince himself that the task was an easy one though. No amount of feigned enthusiasm and exuberance could sooth the aching fingers or tired mind. Koffurn went over and filled a pot with the water from the washbasin. He put the pot onto the fire for a few minutes. It started boiling after a few minutes. Koffurn held his fingers over the steaming pot. The warm vapor clung to his pale skin and formed beads that dropped back into the simmering liquids below. Koffurn gently dipped his fingers into the steaming water after it had cooled a bit. The water was uncomfortably hot, but he could feel his muscles relaxing. The Legate hoped the warm waters would give him dexterity long enough to finish the last two circles. Accuracy was the key to success. He left his fingers in the water until it began to cool. Koffurn held his fingers up to the light and wriggled them. He picked up his tools and went back to work. He worked as quickly as he dared to. The fingers remained surprisingly spry until the end of the fifth circle. He added a “T” to the fifth circle, which left only one to do. The last circle seemed as difficult as the last five combined. He needed to finish before he slept though. It was an imperative for the Legate. The last circle was started promptly. Koffurn cut and carved gently at the leather. Making a mistake now would ruin hours of work. Luckily, Koffurn didn’t make a mistake. Despite aching fingers, weary eyes, and an odd illness, the circle was finished. It was with great pleasure that he added the final letter... “E”. “Listen...” he whispered with a sacred reverence. There on the leather band sat the word “listen”. It was perfect. Koffurn laughed giddily. Everything was excellent... He tied it around his wrist and looked at it. “Pretty,” he whispered. All that was left was the last step. He needed to put a drop of blood on each of the circles. He was bleeding plenty from his fingers, but he wanted to make a fresh cut just to be sure.

[Muldris Koffurn]

Koffurn dug the dagger into viciously across his hand. It prompted a surprised shriek from the boy. His blood splattered on the bracelet thus completing the item, but he stared at his hand, dumbfounded. He didn’t mean to cut so deeply. He hadn’t cut so deeply. It was as if... Then it dawned on him. Koffurn let out an uncharacteristic string of curses. It had been so long that he had almost forgotten the feeling, but now, there was no mistaking it. “Get out, Terga!” Koffurn growled bitterly. With a grunt a mental push, the ghost was prevented from influencing his movements. He must have been dormant inside of me... Deceptively weak! I should have known. The ghost may have not been skilled at much but he wasn’t too bad at possession. Koffurn hadn’t realized the ghost was there. He felt it but failed to put the facts together. This was due largely to the fact that he firmly believed his knife assault had killed the spectral enemy. After a few minutes of mental struggle, the specter, unable to do anything more, left Koffurn’s body. The ghost sounded amused but there were undeniable undertones of uncertainty, “I was hoping that I could bury the blade into your stomach, but it seems you were resisting unwittingly. Spiritists are such a troublesome bunch. Oh and my name is Terva... with a V.” The Legate was panicking. He didn’t have any more soulmist. Perhaps there was still some left in his stomach contents. He hadn’t eaten or drunk all day besides the soulmist. There was a possibility that some had lingered inside of him. Koffurn went to vomit, but Terva was upon him with all sharp little tools from his etching kit. The Legate managed to catch his dagger as it hurdled towards him. With his entire weight, he jammed the knife deep enough into the wall. It wriggled as the ghost tried to retrieve it but soon stopped as the ghost gave up to find another sharp thing. The sharpest pick in his etching set stabbed forward and was soon joined by another one of his etching blades. The small points dug into his arms as he batted away attacks to his chest and face. The bandages he had applied were red with blood where they had been pink before. Koffurn sprinted towards the chest that held his belt and other dagger. He tried to vomit but was having a bit of trouble. As he made his way across the room, the small tools bit into his legs and back. Tears were coming to his eyes but he didn’t weep. He gave little pained cries every time a metal tool bit into him, but he never wept. He threw up frantically thanks to his trained hands, but he threw back his head in agony as Terva dug one of his tools deep into Koffurn’s shoulder. The metal twisted as it pushed deeper. Koffurn’s stomach contents were glowing faintly signaling the presence of some soul mist. He hoped it would be enough. He smeared some of the acidic substance on his hands and then covered the dagger. The tool in his shoulder had been relinquished and sat idly protruding from his back. This offered little reprieve because Terva had just gone for another of Koffurn’s tools. The teen lunged towards the ghost. He took an etching instrument in the arm and leg, but his momentum brought him to his adversary. He aimed for the head and chest with his cuts. Terva tried to escape into Koffurn again, but the spiritist resisted the invasion and drove the knife into Terva’s face until the ghost was gone for good. He couldn’t reach the tool in his back but he didn’t really care. He was relieved that he vanquished his foe. The oddness he had been feeling was gone and his mind felt light. Koffurn eventually managed to remove the implements that were protruding from his flesh. He dressed them sloppily and passed out on the floor. All things considered, it had been a fairly average day... ~Fin~

[Archelon]

Thread Award "Stay Back! Stay Back Ghostie! I'll bite you. I swears!" And the Results!!!!: Muldris : SkillName 1-5 How/why? Malediction 3 Spiritism 3 Etching 1 Projection 3 grabbing your daggers Weapon:Dagger 3 To start you off Unarmed combat 1 See combat note. Lores: Spiritism: Attacked by a ghost Spiritism: Soulmist on weapons helps one strike back Spiritism: Resisting a ghost(poor) Wounds: Sliced palm 12 days natural healing, difficulty holding objects without pain Cut from dagger on side of stomach 10 days natural healing Punctured Back right shoulder from tool 12 days natural healing- luckily no organs punctured , your back ribcage stopped it :3 Maledicted Item: Ferret Leather Belt: Benefits: gives a very slight improvement to the user's hearing, about 1%. Cons: Makes the user slightly skittish around dogs, or wolves. Combat Note: it is highly difficult to catch a dagger hurtling towards you even if you use projection at your level while distracted :3. Would you like some extra turtle sauce ? : Pretty good thread, nice read. Any ???'s comments concerns feel free to pm me back.