bring out your dead

[degenere]

FORM: Sending Crystal
SENDER: Baroness Frédérique Durfort-Lacapalette, Brother Jehan Mercier, and Valentine Nicasius Maxence Mérovée Olivier de Foncé
RECIPIENT: Everyone
WHAT: CHASSEURS DE FANTÔMES
WHEN: Early Cloudreach
WHERE: From Kirkwall, listenable anywhere
NOTES: Your favorite people!

—will come try to stop us, [ Jehan is whispering when everyone's crystals come to life, but it's capped off with a sigh as he realizes it is too late, too late, alas. ]

They must know [Val, in a stage whisper. He hardly cares about being heard.] Inquisition. We have been in Kirkwall for how long now? Long enough that some of us have seen shades. Spirits. Ghosts.

Inquisition, these are but exaggerations. Do you know how we know this to be true? [He’ll tell you. In a second. The dramatic moment is slightly spoiled by a sudden sharp intake of breath, and a loud SPLASH.] Sacre-- the oar!

Careful! [ Freddie is there too, naturally. ] Keep it in the lock-- there. Inquisition [ she begins again in Val's place ] we have heard your tales of supposed hauntings, but we three have spent countless hours toiling in these Gallows and have not seen a thing! Not one spectral wisp! And so, you see, we cannot help but doubt. We are women--and men--of the sciences, after all. It is merely our nature.

Men and woman of the sciences, [ Jeannot corrects, because who doesn't like being corrected ] and of faith, merci, and we do not mean that anyone is lying. Of course the Veil is thin here. But surely not so thin as the stories.

And so, we have returned at night--which I am sure we can all agree is the most appropriate time for ghosts--to give the spirits the chance to prove all of you correct by revealing themselves to us.

Do not be afraid for us! This is not even the tenth most foolish we have ever been, particularly Freddie and Val, and so far as I can tell they yet survive—we would welcome advice, however. Where have you witnessed these spirits reaching through the Veil? Were you doing anything to attract their attention?

And how do we attract their attention? Tell us, so we can try for ourselves! Must we cause a great scene, and commotion? Must we SHOUT? We are willing to shout-- O, SPIRITS! HEAR US, AND APPEAR! WE WOULD WITNESS YOUR--

[ muffled muffled something like a hand has been clapped over his mouth. ]

Comments

[arcaneadvisor]

You have not heard then. These horrors do not sleep. Have never slept. They are unaware that the war for which they were called has long since ended and no manners or lack thereof will matter to them.

[More 'tales about boys and girls that get eaten or killed or have eggs laid in their skin: welcome to Chasind country' tales. There are no manners in social Darwinism.]

[degenere]

How sad. They must be dreadfully tired. I myself often have trouble sleeping, but I have found that if I drink a great deal of wine, I soon find myself quite asleep indeed.

Perhaps we should have brought along an offering, yes?

[arcaneadvisor]

One would think there would be an attempt at respect. Most men are much the same, I have found, though never quite soon enough for my liking. Not without aid.

T'would depend on whether or not the offering and the intent behind it were appropriate or not, no?

[degenere]

I can think of no better show of respect than the gift of a fine Orlesian wine, madame. I would only feed it to my closest friends, and so to give it to another would mean taking the wine from the mouths of my friends.

Truly a sacrifice. Truly appropriate.

[arcaneadvisor]

Do you have friends? Or a pool of potential victims? Many old things were claimed to have been called into being with blood or a pound of flesh [hello Haven my old friend I am not over how no one thought Justinia made such a poor life choice hosting the Mage-Templar bowl there] and for all that it may be rich and red, the wine perhaps will not suffice.

Unless they balk at you taking it from them and offer you up in protest.

[degenere]

What a question! Of course I have friends. They are in this boat with me right at this moment. But they would never offer me as a sacrifice, nor would I offer them. What is more, a pound of our flesh would be worth quite a lot, if we were truly to be offering it in trade--but we would never.

Besides: how would a pound of flesh be taken? And from where?

[arcaneadvisor]

One never knows how fickle a companion may be until push comes to shove. What makes your flesh worth so very much? That you are such educated young folk? I have seen the dead rise, ravenous and bloodthirsty in the dark of night blundering through barricade and flame. I have witnessed a forest come to life as sylvans stretch out their branches to trap and entomb. A spirit is curious. [But you know what they say, she doesn't need to repeat it.]

Perhaps with teeth or claw. With a knife. By your own hand. Or slowly, piece by piece, so slow you notice not until it is gone and there is something else that sits behind your eye and whispers in your ear.

[The spook podcast post-show.]

[degenere]

[ummmmm]

I have been told my whole life that my flesh is very worthy. The education of this flesh came quite second to that.

Where have you seen such blunderings and trapping branches and curious spirits? What wild country is this?

[arcaneadvisor]

By whom, I wonder. [Did they giggle? Because if so, let her tell you two things about women because she is one. When she isn't being something more interesting.]

The sylvans I have witnessed in the Brecilian Forest as well as a tree that spoke entirely in rhyme, I am sorry to say we did not set it alight as we should have. The undead were in Redcliffe; the incident involving the Arl and his family during the Blight? I am uncertain if that tale was told in many places. Each place there has been death or battle the spirits push close. The sylvans are rarer for those are ot something that was ever flesh now possessed by something.

[Also don't talk to the Elder Tree because 10/10 regrets, would not repeat or recommend.]

[degenere]

[Wwwwait.]

Why would you burn a tree that speaks? That sounds too rare a thing to be destroyed!

[arcaneadvisor]

It spoke entirely in rhyme. Terrible rhyme.

[Hermits and acorns were involved it was a bad time.]

[degenere]

Ah. Then I support this decision without second thought. No matter how rare a talking tree would be, the crime of terrible rhyme cannot go unpunished or uncorrected.