Ghost Story

[GamesMaster]

Something slams into him then, something with force and hunger, ripping, tearing. For a moment he's tiny, insignificant, a child again; he hasn't felt this helpless in a long time, this weak and small. The world spins around him, and he can smell and taste blood, the hot coppery taste filling his nostrils and his mouth. He is drowning in it, and then he  isn't, he can breathe, on his hands and knees, Bianca a few inches away on the ground. 

[Varric]

Mom. Hel-- His lips twist in a snarl and he surges to his feet. Bianca slaps into the palm of his hand as if summoned and he sweeps the room with a glare. "That it? Sad memories and some blood taste? Bitch please, I drink orcish ale, you'll have to do nine Hells worth of worse to get me. Now fuck right the fuck out of my house, you sad little shite!" Even as he roars his rage at the foul entity, his free hand dances and twists, another infusion working rapidly. This one is poured along Bianca's stock, where it glows and sinks in like water into desert earth. Inside the barrel, the bolt changes, becoming both more and less real as it gains both the ability to harm that which has no earthly body with ease and the ability to seek out the unseen as long as the bolt is aimed within five feet of a target.

[GamesMaster]

Bianca seeks a target... and seeks... and seeks. The room settles, the blood fading as the room becomes the study he's familiar with once more -- and he notices at last that it's not the same study, that the furniture was all moved about, as it returns to being the furniture he picked out and moved in. 

The room is quiet. 

[Varric]

Rage, born from many things, still searing his veins, the dwarf continues to scan the room for several long minutes. Finally, he growls softly and nods. "And so learned." Switching back to Celestial, he shouts, "and thwarted, beaten back, defeated, trouble this place no more! One and done, foul thing, unclean thing. Come not again or face a second fall!" Need three defeats, three significant setbacks, to do a true casting out, but might be able to at least unnerve it. Need to prepare better (check with the church in town, get holy water, blessed silver, sacred incense, maybe some potions if they make them) for next time. Magic Weapon oil (owe Joey and his friend some more maple candy) worked in a pinch, but more targeted infusions are now officially required. 

This is all thought as he rockets through the house, having started moving the second his challenge had been cast, heading for the library. For Emma.

[GamesMaster]

As he approaches the library door, he sees her again: Bethie, her eyes pupil-less, Looking too sad and too creepy to be real. "Please," she mouths.

[Varric]

Icy chill mixes with the searing rage in his blood at the sight of those sightless eyes. "What?" he snarls, not slowing. 

[GamesMaster]

"Help me hide," she whimpers, as he tugs on the door handle that refuses to turn, refuses to grant him entry to the library. 

[Varric]

"Where? How? The thing is gone," Varric snaps as he steps back, hand mixing yet again.

[GamesMaster]

"It's never gone," she whispers. "It's hunting us. Always hunting us. The little ones, the weak ones. The little girls. It's always hunting the little girls."

[Varric]

The door goes away with a bare whisper, dust and regret at being in the way all that lingers as the dwarf surges into the room.

"No," Varric says coldly. "Emma! Emma, where are you! Stay with me," he adds, beckoning at the ghost to follow.

[GamesMaster]

Bethie, still lacking pupils, creeps after him, as he finally reaches Emma. 

She doesn't appear to be breathing at first. Then he can see her chest rise and fall in small, shallow breaths. Her skin is pale, her eyes closed in deep slumber, a dew beading up on her skin. 

"She's too tired," says Bethie, looking down at Emma. "She doesn't have the energy to fight him off. We have to hide."

[Varric]

"Where?" Varric demands again. Wait. "Ritual room. I can set up a protective circle."

[GamesMaster]

Bethie frowns. "We don't have a ritual room."

[Varric]

"You don't have anything," he snaps. "My house and I have a ritual room." He glances at the cot, scowls, then just shoots the bolts off so he can carry the entire thing. More comfortable and I can set it down easier if there's combat.

[GamesMaster]

"Oh," says Bethie, real quietly. Just that: just a hurt little whimper of a sound.