Divine retribution [Tarot]

[Maius]

Timestamp: 30th day of Spring 510 AV
Midday
Horn of the main land, just south of the Island of Sahova

It was a typical spring day. The heat was not that unbearable and animals played in the light of the sun. On the far east coast of Sylira a small bird of prey lazily circled a tiny cave on the beach. The scurrying of a rodent caught its attention down below. The avian predator dove sharply talons stretched out for the kill. The rodent blissfully unaware of its approaching doom hopped around happily gnawing on the few shoots of grass that grew around the mouth of the cave. With the impact of an arrow the predator impaled the tiny rodent. A screech of victory from the bird mixed with the death cries from the rodent filled the small stretch of beach. The bird gave a mighty flap of its wings and carried of its prise to devour it somewhere in peace. Unbeknown to the predator this entire life and death spectacle was observed by a figure deeper in the mouth of the cave.

'Well done little hunter, well done indeed.' ran through the figure's mind as he observed the kill. The figure followed the departure of the predator until it could no longer make out the silhouette.'Go now and enjoy your spoils.' Soft moaning filled the cave as the figure retreated into the cave that has been its home for the last day. Any scribe that saw this creature would have known immediately that this creature was a ghost, yet they would have been puzzled by the ghost's appearance. It look like nothing more than a shell of a man. A blank slate roughly humanoid in its form.

Once he reached the back of the cave Maius sunk in on himself. He reflected on what had happened since his death. In life he was known as Eric de Bedoux, a humble farmer who had his life stolen from him not 30 days ago by a band of murdering robbers. They had left Eric with nothing but a burning desire for revenge. Revenge on the capriciousness of fate. A fate that dictated his and his family's death for the simple crime of existing. A fate that further tried to force him into a cycle which could have him experience it all again.

Eric appeared before Lhex to be judged but he rejected it. He used his considerable willpower to bring himself back to Mizahar. On his return he took the new name of Maius. After hunting the bandits Maius set out towards the east. He wanted to disappear. He wanted nothing more to do the with living, blind fools that they were, locked into a cosmic reincarnation wheel which took away their freedom to go on.

During the weeks he spent traveling the hatred inside Maius solidified into an undying loathing for the gods. Why was his family chosen to end their lives in pain. Why did the gods not intervene and saved Marie and Thomas, when they were quick to poke their noses into everything else. Maius could have accepted his own death but the horror visited on his wife and son was beyond forgiveness. About six days into his travels Maius stopped beside the road. He tended to travel in a straight line east, using his transportation ability as often as he could to skip along. He threw back his head at the heavens and howled in his empty voice. ”False gods hear my vow. I will not rest until you are dust. Hear me and tremble. I will not let go until you are all dead and gone just like my wife and son.” Luckily there were no living and sight, only the gods heard him.

Days passed in steady rush as the ghost made his way to the east. He really did not know why he had chosen this direction. In the end it did not matter. He was dead and he had all the time in the world. He also used this time to practice all he had learned during the battle with the bandits. On occasion he would stop and practice touching and moving objects. He could now successfully move objects 90% of the time. When the opportunity presented itself he would stop besides a small pool of water and practice making his form solid. These succeeded far less than he would have liked. Even when he was successful there was a flickering around the edges. Maius also took every chance he got to posses small animals. This action was by far his worst. He could do it with very small animals but once he tried it on a cow he was thrown out with such force that he could continue traveling for almost a whole day. Maius had spent that time in a small bush recovering from the ordeal.

He only reached the coastline two days ago. The entire time he had not stopped to eat or sleep once. There were a few advantages to being dead. He could focus his entire being on his goals.

With a growl of frustration the ghost shook off the maudlin memories. He needed power and allies otherwise he was doomed to spend an eternity with unfilled desires.

[Maius]

Hatred and vengeance. Two very simple words in the common tongue, yet despite their simple pronunciation they denote very complex abstracts. At the root of the words you will almost always find fear, though this is not always the case. Some very singular individuals evoke hatred and a sense of vengeance at the simple loss of control. Control they require in order to latch onto the world. This loss of control can take many forms but it is most often death that triggers it. Death of a loved one, death of friend. Some say that these individuals feel too much, that is way death affects them so strongly. They build tight networks of relationships and woe betide any who dare interrupt them.

In a small beach cave just south of the island of Sahova we find such a man or rather former man. Maius, formerly known as Eric de Bedoux, once again became lost in memories of his former life, after he contemplated his current helpless situation. His wife's beautiful features, his son's rugged good looks. He could see in his mind that his boy would have been a real hart breaker had he had the chance to grow up. He imagined Marie and himself as an old couple together, not a care in the world. He desparetly tried to let these images go, but he could not bring himself to force them away. He longed for the life that was stolen from him. A soft moaning filled the cavern as Maius was dragged deeper and deeper into this make-believe world.

Time steadily marched on outside the cave. The dead cared nothing for the passage of time, which does beg the question if time exists for them, though that is a matter for a whole other tale. The afternoon sun sunk ever deeper towards the horizon until finally dusk reared its shadowy head. A footstep outside the cave snapped Maius back towards the present. With a growl of frustration at being robbed of his wonderful imaginary world Maius ran towards the mouth of the cave. Small pebbles strewn about the mouth of the cave rattled in sympathy with the ghost's anger as well as announcing his arrival.

Who is there, who dares disturb me!!! he howled with unrestrained rage as he burst from the cavern. About a foot in front of him, cowering from his presence, was an old man. He was garbed in fisherman's clothes and from the state of his apparel it was quite certain that this old man had spent his life along the beach, gathering what scant resources he could. Maius regard the old fisherman for a few scant moments before he addressed him. What do you want living. I wish to have nothing to do with your kind.

The old fisherman gather the shreds of his remaining courage as the terrible apparition spoke to him. He stood up as tall as he could and said in a shaking voice. Are you al... alright my son. I hea... heard such terrible moaning from this cave I thought some... somebody had crawled in there to die. The old man knew it was a mistake the moment he got close to the cave, but his natural stubbornness had driven him forwards. When the ghost, for he could indeed now confirm the source of the moaning was a ghost, rushed out of the cave he nearly soiled himself. Now as he looked upon the apparition itself he could not help but feel a stab of sympathy.

I am fine old man, now leave me be. Maius snapped in irritation. This was not what he needed right now.

Are you sure my son. You look like somebody in need of help. Help perhaps to move on. the old fisherman said, his voice regained some measure of confidence. The ghost seemed harmless. It was common knowledge that ghosts generally had some sort of unfinished business in the land of the living and the old man was the type of person that strove to help his fellow man.

The moment the old fisherman said this he knew he had made a mistake. Maius' ethereal eyes narrowed. Help me move on old man? Perhaps I should return the favor.

Maius billowed forwards to grab the old fisherman in a bear hug. As his shell made contact with the fisherman's flesh he willed it solid. He had learned earlier that his very touch harmed the living. On his travels east he quite accidentally discovered this when he touched a rat during his practice session. The small rodent had shivered uncontrollably before bolting away.

Deep inside him the icy conflagration that constituted his will purred in pleasure as he slowly stole the life from this unfortunate human. The old man's struggles became weaker and weaker until they finally stopped. The fisherman's heart could no longer take the intense deadly cold. Maius reverted to his ghostly form and slipped back into the cave without so much as looking at the death he had caused.

[Tarot]

Ghosts were tragic creatures, an oddity in the cosmic cycle. A minority, a fringe ruled by intense feelings and unfinished business. The followers of Dira had made it their mission to lead them out of their unfortunate condition; others, though, saw different avenues and great potential in these lost souls. Each was a story waiting to be told, for no ghost existed without a good reason. No man would pick suffering over the hope of rebirth if they had nothing left to do in this world.

The child knew that, for the child was older than any old man. The child would never grow up; the child had a childish goal and went about it with childlike, almost naive intensity. Except the method was anything but naive. The child came from all lands and none, and was anywhere he needed to be. The child hated to love, and loved to hate; the child gave and took and took and gave. The child had found the cave of Maius, formerly known as Eric de Bedoux.

The child was pale and somber-looking, with a serious expression on his features. He looked like someone had just stolen his candy, which undoubtedly caused most kids to burst into tears, but not all of them. There were some who just stared at you in the eye, pouting and clenching their fists and never blinking. Those were the creepy kids. The child was a creepy kid. Dark-haired, well-combed, formally dressed; could not have been a sailor's offspring. His step was childlike, yet what child could just jump over the corpse of an old man like it was a game?

"Sir ghost," the child called out, nice shoes clicking together. His nails were neatly trimmed as he laced his fingers together, stepping inside the cave. "I know you are in here, sir ghost. You are very angry, and very scary. Will you come out and play with me? I am but a child and have no-one to play with in these lands." The child looked around for any signs of the ghost, seemingly unafraid of what haunted the cavern.