Unfinished Business

by **Jomi** on February 4th, 2019, 2:07 am

Date 20th Winter 519 AV
"Speech"

Jomi was struggling to concentrate on the Myrian's droning voice as he eyed Rothsam's hands warily from behind the spiritists possessed eyes while he flipped open a deerskin bag and placed another sheathed throwing knife inside. The ghost had become familiar and almost comfortable with the savage spiritist. But the weapons he favoured still sent a chill through the ghosts core. The exposed carved bone handle of the weapon shone with the unearthly glow of recently imbued soulmist. A handful of thick iron nails were next, followed by a string of jade beads. The proprietors thick calloused digits swept over the cluttered mess on the table searching for any stray tools he'd missed. The Myrain liked to keep the Den of the Lost in a state of constant chaos as a reminder of his jungle home. A macabre assortment of spiritism and malediction equipment could be seen scattered about, mixed in with tied bundles of bleached bone and the Myrian's personal effects that spilled outward from the straw mattress in the corner. A stark contrast to the sterility Madeira thrived in.

Jomi shook off the thoughts of his Master. The guilt of betrayal still weighed heavily on his soul, but Madeira's ambitions and what she was willing to do to achieve them were becoming more extreme by the day. He needed a back up plan incase she turned her power hungry malevolence on him.

A sharp whip like crack echoed around the room as Rothsam slammed his thick hands on the table, bringing the ghost back to the present with a start. The Myrian soul reasserted itself and became a impenetrable wall, forcing the weaker soul out.

Jomi left without a fight. His soulmist gathered itself and pulled away from his hosts bones and soft tissues, untangling itself from the threads of the Myrians astral body and rose off his skin like fog off a lake. The ghosts body pieced itself together, he drew back the straying ends of his soulmist and folded them back to his core. The thick etherial mists coiled and tightened around him, filling out his colours and sharpening the lines of his body. Once shaped back to his likeness the ghosts head snapped upward and was greeted by the Myrian's barred teeth.

"-And your nodding off. This is why I don't associate with Kelvics, too smart to be a pet, too stupid to be anything else."

The Myrian's sharp, filed teeth where slick with moisture and glowed dully in the low light. And the ghost had enough knowledge of spiritism to guess why.

"You imbueded your teeth?"

"Yes, and I'd be thrilled to give you a practical demonstration as to why unless you can repeat what I just said, spirit."

Jomi shifted uncomfortably, pinned under the hard black eyes of the cities resident spiritist. The latent energy in his soulcore seeped into the ghosts etherial shroud, radiating out from his centre and fusing with the white mist. A strand of the soulmist detached from the ghosts back and coiled around the empty clay pot on the shelf behind him preparing to throw. A pitiful defence, but the security of having a weapon gave the ghost the courage to speak.

"Theres a ship in the harbour and the captains being harassed by multiple ghosts, now you need to go deal with it."

Rothsam drew back, his lips growing taunt as the corners lifted from a snarl into a smile. The gesture did absolutely jack to soften his appearance.

"You pass. Such a shame, I was curious to see what you taste like."

"Oh, kinky."

Boxcode by Allassanachassanya

by **Jomi** on February 4th, 2019, 2:12 am

Date 20th Winter 519 AV
"Speech"

Rothsam brushed off the quip, instead busying himself with the preparations. Jomi brought the latent power residing in his soulcore forward once more and drew the energy into his hands. The ghost reached out to the table with his materialized hand and wrapped his fingers around the thin, smooth handle of a long serrated hunting knife. He used the building energy residing in his mists to push the weapon up against the pull of gravity and hold it to his face. An absurd amount of weapons were laid out along the long table and strapped around the Myrians body. Two short curved swords hung on his belt, a thicker long sword was fastened onto his back and an sash of short throwing knives draped over his bare chest. Even in the dead of winter the Myrian still insisted on prancing about shirtless. Jomi noticed a suspicious lack of the ranged weapons favoured by more traditional spiritists.

"It's not that I don't appreciate you asking me to be your date to tonights haunting. It's just that I'm not sure what you expect me to do. Besides look pretty I mean."

The Den's proprietor bent over the table, opened his mouth, and retched a thick handful of pearly white mist into his hand. The ghosts weightless star fire dagger was procured from the row of short bladed weapons and liberally smeared with the spiritists essence.

"This isn't one haunting, it's several." Scraping the excess soulmist off the blade the Myrian flicked the pearly mist to the ghost. Who absorbed the high quality soulmist greedily. "Captian Fitz has run afoul of several restless spirits. And since I cant exorcise them all at once, I expect you to protect the captain while I deal with them individually."

"Ah, so we're going to double team Ole' Fitz."

A flash of silver sailed towards the ghosts face. The star fire dagger, newly imbuded, landed a direct hit to the ghosts face and dragged him painfully into the wall.

The energy in his soulcore spilled forward in reflex, saturating the ghosts entire etherial body in a adrenaline laced panic. Jomi lifted both of his hands and hooked his fingers under the lip of the guard. The kinetic energies infesting his mists struggled to push the dagger out from the wooden wall that pinned him.

"You enjoying pissing me off, don't you."

The Myrian stood a foot from the struggling ghost, his arms crossed along his wide stocky body as he leaned casually on one leg. The ghost, trapped and in pain, still managed to wear a shit eating grin. His churning soulmist recovered from the disruptive panic and slowly stilled and folded inward. The soulmist gathered and wove together to add substance and a flush of colour to the ghosts etherial body.

"No, this isn’t giving me any pleasure. But I’m sure you’ve heard that before"

A blinding flash of white exploded across the ghosts eyes as another dagger was thrown into his gut.

Boxcode by Allassanachassanya

by **Jomi** on February 4th, 2019, 4:43 am

Date 518 AV
"Speech"

"No, my names Marvin, I'm the first mate. The captains in the hold, we have him restrained just in case he... well he's not doing so good."

Jomi hovered silent and dematerialized behind the first mate of the Albatross as he debriefed the Spiritist. Calloused hands pushed hard into the back of the sailors red wind burnt neck as he glanced nervously at the flat wooden door cut into the centre of the deck. He was old and grey, with a myriad of scars and burns that crossed over every exposed inch of skin. No one would guess that the hardened seaman would have the demeanour of a scolded boy. Even the oblivious, unsociable Kelvic knew that this cowing behaviour was not right for someone in his position.

Rothsam must have noticed too, his eyes were hard and his black bushy brows were slowly migrating into his hairline. The Myrian stretched out his spine and casually swept his eyes over the deck. The ship was deserted and in disarray, the mast sat half furled and extensive storm repairs had been abandoned mid way through. t seemed that the crew had jumped ship as soon as they had gotten to the harbour. A wise choice, the ghost mused.

Jomi floated towards a row of metal rivets that held a flat metal panel over a split in the mast, the ghost reached out with his unmaterialized hand and summoned a wave of energy up from his core. The remaining life force in his soul wove into the mist in his hands creating a solid barrier that skimmed over the rough splintered wood. The structural damage was extensive, the Albatross' was beaten badly and the crew, for whatever reason, seemed unable to complete the repairs.

"Was there a storm?"

The first mate whipped his body towards the sound, his cutlass already in his hand and levelled at his chest. Even at the other end of the deck the ghost could see the white that ringed his iris'. Far too late did the ghost think that the man might be opposed to the presence of another ghost on a haunted ship.

"Easy, friend. He's with me." The spiritist spoke in soft measured tones to the man, the same tone he took with scared children and grieving widows. A necessary skill to learn if your profession deals in the dead and grieving.

The ghost pulled his soulmist towards his core. The straying mists weaved themselves together, creating an opaque, more life like vessel that would be easier for the two men to see in the bright open space.

Marvin body was wound tighter than a spring and his bones creaked like one. The ships haunting had done some damage to the old mans constitution and it showed in the way he moved and breathed. Like a rabbit caged with a fox.

"Yes. A hurricane formed off the coast of Riverfall." The first mate shot, his words hard and bitting. "Now if theres nothing else, I'll take my leave."

"One last thing," Rothsam caught the first mates arm as he made to step past the spiritist. "The dead don't return because they want to, or because its easy. Is there any reason you know of that drew these souls back here? It would make my job a lot easier if I know what they want."

"...No, I don't."

Marvin pulled out of the spiritists grip, his eyes bloodshot and downcast as he hastened his pace for the safety of the dock.

The Myrian pinched the bridge of his noes and let out a heavy sigh. "So we're going in blind then. Great. Jomi, come. I think it best that our dear Captain not have to see your ugly mug."

Holding out his arms the spiritist invited the ghosts possession. Jomi dropped his materialization and blinked forward, colliding with the Myrians soul with characteristic force. The spiritist relaxed his defences and allowed Jomi to saturate his flesh and bone. The ghost filled the space between his ribs and behind his eyes, acclimating to the spiritists sight and hearing.

Boxcode by Allassanachassanya