faderift | OPEN: Kirkwail

WHO: Anyone
WHAT: Ghosts
WHEN: Wintermarch 20
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: OOC post. More content warnings than you can shake a stick at, probably, including allusions to slavery and violence in the body of the log post. Please use appropriate warnings in the subject lines for your own threads.

The storm sweeps in like an assassin: unexpected, in the dark, and throwing sharp pricks of sleet at exposed eyes and noses with expert aim and enough force to almost draw blood if the angle is right. Half an hour after the clouds crest the cliffs is all it takes for the city to retract indoors and huddle around fireplaces, settling in for a long night that will, unforeseen, turn into a long two days.

The Gallows, too, is pelted with ice; the walls of the cliffs and the fortress protect much of it from the worst of the wind, but when it can find a path over or through the walls, it slams through windows or doors to scatter papers and snuff out fires.

In the dark, in the rain, hurrying between towers or already accustomed to jumping firelight casting strange shadows and the wind howling like a wounded animal, people might be forgiven if they don't notice at first. But there's a hanging in the courtyard, a dozen translucent wisps of bodies dangling from the idea of nooses, and there's a girl's voice in the basement of the templar tower screaming for her mother, and there's a ghostly man in the library holding the blade of a knife to his palm and whispering this is it, this is it—or maybe there isn't, actually, when you lift your head to pay closer attention.

But as the night wears on they multiply, and they brighten, and even if you haven't noticed them, they begin to notice you.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Uh, I sure heard all of that." Church pokes his head out a nearby window. "It sure sounded like a bunch of people were totally about to die and then just stopped existing? And like a really big dog? I'm pretty sure there was a big dog. You're talking about that thing that just happened, right? By the way, what the fuck?"

"That was not a dog - that was a werewolf." Adasse whispered, his eyes wide. "Just like in the old tales - what the fucking fuck?" He looks left, he looks right, he looks back to the man in the window. After a moment he frowns. "Wait, are you real?"

"Let's not get existential, dude. I'm just a casual observer who is super real, and I can throw something at you if it'll make you believe I'm real." Church leans a little farther maybe come down from there you asshole. "Wait, so werewolves are actually real here, not just stories?"

"Ah, no, but move back so I can climb through that window." Because Fuck Staying up here, he doesn't want round two of warriors vs werewolves. "And yeah, they're real. Or at least, now I know they're real. Real-er. I've heard the stories - mostly from Fereldan."

"Man, of course. Of course they'd be actually real here." He moves back to give room. "What about vampires, are those real, too? Do vampires and werewolves fight each other?"

Adasse takes a running leap and easily makes the ledge, huffing a little as he pulls himself up and in. Used to be like butter before he hurt his hip - nevermind that. He could still do it, he'd get better in time.

"Vampires? What's a vampire?" He asked, before looking around, "...Maker's Balls, I hope there aren't any of either of them. I don't even know what happened out there."

"Nice. I could never get the hang of acrobatic-y parkour shit like that."

Church shrugs easily. "I'm not gonna ask about stories of people drinking blood, but basically undead ghoul sorta person who drinks blood and can't stand sunlight. Honestly already sounds like a few people here. Traditionally tend to be at war with werewolves, buuut kinda depends on the canon. But," with a clap on Adasse's shoulder, "enough about vamps, sounded like you avoided a real nasty fight out there without there being one at all."

"Yeah, well, sort of need it in my job description."

Adasse rolled his back a little, as he looked out the window. So nothing freaky was happening just yet. He was waiting for something - anything - for something to go absolutely mad again.

"...Oh. So. Ah. Kind of like blood mages?" He stated, curiously. Because that really sounded like blood mages to him.

"No. No...no, not like blood mages. Like uhhh ghouls? Like...demons, kind of? I mean, generally speaking, holy symbols keep 'em away."

Why is he debating vampires? This is dumb. "Whatever, I just hope they aren't real here, cuz tall, dark, and fuzzy is bad enough." Thankfully nothing freaky is happening right here right now. Only a matter of time, though, let's be honest.

"Hey, you think maybe this thing only triggers when someone's standing there?"

"Ghouls ... oh DEMONS. Ooooh, yeah okay. Gross." He thought about that. "So I guess Templars are our holy symbols then."

He nods his head seriously. "I have to agree with you there."

An eyebrow, "I dunno. But I am not going back out there to find out, are you?"

"I...guess." His opinions on Templars are more of a hand-wobbling motion, because history is complicated and so is magic. But the Chantry is a religious organization that has more than a little similarity to Christianity, so...?

"Definitely not going out there, no. But there's also some creepy shit in here. Here as in, like, indoors, not here specifically, soooo I'm guessing there's really nowhere 'safe'."

"I mean, there's religious tokens and whatever from the Chantry but they say those can't protect you from evil."

He peered out of the window, and shivered. "Right, nowhere is safe. Creators, I gotta find Sorrel. He must be out of his damned mind."

OPEN: Kirkwail

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