the ghost tales

The practice is perhaps quite a beautiful performance for those who especially enjoy the sound of the damned and the deathly metaphorically holding hands in something resembling a cacophonous cooperation. The spectral being's force imposes itself upon Leonid, attempting to steal away the young mage's breath as his own magics thoroughly exhaust the creature in question. Restraint is something which it rarely expresses, but in this moment so carefully does it do so,

and thus the curse of a lack of breath fails to adhere itself to the Asimov child as one song wins out against another and the wailing of the dead overcomes what graceful or discordant sounds such an individual might produce, rising as it draws out a vestige of Leonid's capacity to vocalize, which will doubtlessly heal within moments.

The spectral being stands not far from Leonid in the aftermath, seemingly satisfied with the play-violence.

"It is good that you paid respect to it,
for otherwise it might have gone poorly.

Perhaps you would have used the object you offered?
. . .

no, no..."

Ambrose earns its attention again! Good coincidences. Without the capacity to wave, it waggles its staff in Ambrose's direction.
(Reticence)

Reticence says in telepathy, you are a spirit of the wind which weaves itself in a chaotic thread, slithering between persons and events. it is of interest.

Ambrose bobs his head.

It is true enough! He was quite a wandering spirit on his own, constantly getting into something- and while quite often it is something entirely harmless...

It is not always harmless.

After all, there are images still left to keep up. Appearances to uphold.

"Ah.."

"Hello again, yes!"
(Ambrose Roche)

The young Asimov's song is swift, passionate - unrefined. Electricity crackles at the tips of his fingers as he plays his song - blue flames dancing as he steps about the battlefield. But it is not enough!

The walking set of armour keeps pushing and pushing, making Leonid lose his footing, and eventually, the concentration breaks and the song wanes.. and in the end, the sound is gone so abruptly, leaving the song unfinished. The runes on the violin remain glowing a lilac hue much like the boy's eyes, which now piercingly stare at the headless knight.

He frowns ever so slightly at the words uttered by the spectral creature, an eye even twitches. But with a sigh he shifts his attention towards one more person present at the scene.

"Yet another who paid the tribute, I wager?" The question is addressed to the Dullahan, though his body is already turned towards Ambrose as he studies the fellow youth.
(Leonid Asimov)

Reticence says, "In a manner of discussion."

Leonid Asimov says, "Hm, I see."

Reticence seemingly passively exists in the interim following the conclusion of the mutual song, observing those present with a certain degree of expressed interest by way of shifting shoulders, but otherwise provides little volition to make any judgment therefrom.
(Reticence)

At first, he squints.

Then, he tilts his head. It's only natural that he would assume that Ambrose is the one to pay tribute, but in reality, he couldn't be further from the truth.

"Tribute?"

"Nope!" The thought alone is amusing- enough for him to even smile.

"I'm not the type to pay tribute. I'd actually take the fun instead!" Naturally, that implies that he'd rather confront another in combat...

Even if it meant potential injury.

"And who are you?"
(Ambrose Roche)

Reticence says, "There was a moment that assistance was needed."

Reticence says, "It was given. It served well."

Leonid Asimov says, "Me? I'm Leonid Asimov."

Ambrose Roche says, "Whoa! Formal."

Ambrose Roche says, "Hm, I guess I should be too."

Leonid Asimov asks, "But-... I guess assistance is a form of tribute, is it not?"

Ambrose Roche says, "I'm Ambrose Roche."

Leonid Asimov says, "Nice to meet ya."

Ambrose Roche exclaims, "Likewise!"

Reticence says, "I am the crime all good men commit."

Ambrose Roche asks, "What's that?"

Reticence offers a cryptic introduction, rather than a name. As it goes. Fucking ghosts.
(Reticence)

Reticence says, "They allow evil to prosper."

Ambrose Roche exclaims, "Oh!"

Ambrose Roche asks, "Inaction?"

Leonid Asimov says, "Huh."

Reticence says, "It is close enough."

Ambrose Roche says, "Hm..."

Ambrose Roche asks, "Sloth?"

Reticence says, "No."

Reticence says, "I am not a sin."

Ambrose Roche says, "Uhhhh..."

Leonid Asimov asks, "Ignorance?"

Reticence says, "... it... it isn't- a guessing game..."

Leonid Asimov says, "Well, now it is."

Reticence flusters??????
(Reticence)

Leonid smirks...
(Leonid Asimov)

Ambrose taps at his chin, pondering still.

"Hm..."

"How about..." He pauses. "No, no! It's close enough to inaction."

"Ignorance is when you don't know something." Another pause.

"Close to inaction, hm.."

"Restraint? Like, restraining yourself - so that evil prospers?"
(Ambrose Roche)

Valar says, "Hm, you should be more careful Dullahan, not all will greet you with conversation"

Ambrose Roche asks, "Why not?"

Ambrose Roche exclaims, "Ghosts are cool!"

Valar says, "Indeed, Esshar's vast majoirty would disagree."

Leonid Asimov says, "I see ghosts all the time."

The guessing game provokes greater explanation. Very well. They cannot simply metagame his name and guess it. That would be very rude. So, to stop this from going on forever, Reticence must simply give these children, who have successfully bullied him into properly naming himself, an actual elaboration.

It drones.

"Good men are hesitant to be proactive in the destruction of evil.
They are reticent because they fear loss, but in the end they suffer the erosion of all that they know.

That Reticence is the crime that they allow others to commit, even if it is mere foolishness rather than sin. Because that loss comes for all,

I inflict it upon others to inspire action. Often, the foolish challenge my right to take from them.

Often, they lose more than they need."

Valar's warning as per... living creatures offering it conversation, earns a slight turn of the specter's shoulders to the skeletal (?) being in question, to whom it additionally explains,

"I greet them with threats. The conversation is a surprise, not the violence which often comes."
(Reticence)

Valar stood as an undead not like Dulla nor Mutant but remained hidden under the shadow of his Death Knight hood. Red eyes could be seen glaring from the darkness within the hood as he stared and examined the Dullahan and then the other two.

Fel energy seeped from his mouth when he spoke in his ghostly voice..

"Greeting with threats? I see, be careful on your hunt kin."

He would not involve himself with the three but watched from the shadows of the trees to be sure the Dullahan wouldn't be killed. Many had been dying as of late but from Vanir, the two here seemed to be different then those who usually oppress them.


(Valar)

Leonid... hums. And then he shrugs. All that talk seems to frankly go over his head completely. "Reticence, huh. I guess that's interesting. I wonder if that's why you walk the lands of Esshar." Musings are shared outloud as the boy crosses his arms, staring off into the distance.
(Leonid Asimov)

Reticence.

A crime of all men, not just good - but in different ways. Still, it could be understood very well by the likes of Ambrose. There's something about it that makes him ponder, however..

"Hm..."

He approaches closer to the ghost, unbothered by its ephemeral visage. Where he comes from ghosts were, unironically, very common - so were the living dead in general, as well as different strange creatures.

Esshar? It felt very tame in comparison.

"Oh! I know why you're named like this." A bright idea, no doubt..

"You were killed in your past life because a good man didn't do enough against the evil people."

"Or something like that. Right?"
(Ambrose Roche)

It may well be a crime of all men. Nevertheless, Ambrose's inquiries seem to strike its interest moreso than Leonid's supposing, though each hit along the very same line of wondering. Ambrose earns significant consideration as little buzzes rise in his immediate vicinity.

"We. . ." The plural is relatively unprecedented, all things considered. It has regarded itself as an 'I' more often than not. ". . . have suffered at the hands of those who could have done something but chose otherwise.

It is the greatest plague upon Eternia. It is man's greatest folly." A few absolutes slide in, doubtlessly fueled by the natural bitterness of such a demise. The whispers of the dead remain at a low, constant volume, inaudibly complaining about the circumstances of their various likely-violent ends.

"The victims are rarely those who had the power to change it. And so, we perpetuate it.

If they are not willing to lose some small amount of coin, then they are simply unprepared for what life will impose upon them."
(Reticence)

Reigns Uchi says, "..."

Was it a walking apparition of many spirits, then?

Or did it simply share the memories of such - or at the very least, the emotional embodiment? Ambrose couldn't tell, nor he was sure. But there was an explanation to it...

Likely somewhere else.

"We?"

The fact that he spoke of multiple people already surprised him; it was met with an idle hum and a great deal of consideration, yet soon he spoke once more.

"Do you remember it?"

This past life. What exactly caused it, and whose fault it was.

"Who did it, or rather... what actions caused it?"

Curious. Much like all dead that were still roaming the earth, there was bitterness involved in this one.

There always is.
(Ambrose Roche)

What better reason to continue existing?

". . . . ."

Silence remains, for some period of time. The silence of the greater voice, at least. Those inaudible sounds spoken in senseless tones and tongues intensify in volume, and the geist's point of focus remains entirely the same, with the fullness of its attention devoted to such a series of inquiries.

Thus it continues for a moment approximately half a minute long.
Time to process - time to sort, consider...

". . . . ."

It isn't dormant - merely slow to react, certainly, as it attempts to provide a sincere answer, and in the end, all that Ambrose receives is,

"I'm not sure."
(Reticence)

"Hm.."

It's difficult for ghosts to remember anything - quite often they operate on the principle of emotional essence, on the pure, raw feeling that they constantly experience.

Ambrose knew that. The countless libraries on another continent, in another castle, in another place entirely...

They taught him that much.

"What can you remember, if at all?"

He might even learn the history of this place through the misty memories of a Dullahan.

"How long ago was it? Which ear?"

"Perhaps you remember who were the rulers of the land back then? Any historical figures?"

A hint of an era could already reveal much.
(Ambrose Roche)

"It was recent. But,

we were very badly hurt."

Its manner of explanation is perhaps not very enlightening or indicative of elucidation, no. The revenant in question most definitely suffers from one manner or another of cognitive afflictions that interrupt the capacity to properly communicate in this fashion; it certainly seems to be trying to explain, but the proper words don't come very easily whatsoever.

"Many... have fallen in the everlasting war. All that they can remember. Peace comes, peace ebbs, blood flows. The innocent fall in droves, and all -

all are made weapons, all are made victims...

but. . ."

there is a little shift in the undercurrents of the 'song.' It accelerates, focusing most thoroughly upon a singular, focal point, somewhere close in front of the center of the spirit's magical mass.

"Specific crimes have been lost,
and in the span of all are meaningless.

There is another who tried to destroy us,
and we will take everything from him.

Everything."

The declaration seems as much a non-sequitur as anything else that it might have said, really.
(Reticence)

All that was ever lost.

It's not necessarily the only country across the entirety of Eternia that suffers from afflictions such as these. Quite on the contrary, it's very much something that is common across all nations- especially the nations where Ambrose used to live.

He knows about this all too well.

Does it mean that it saddens him much? Not quite, no... what he feels isn't exactly sadness or sorrow - at the very least, he doesn't think it is; instead, it is assurance that Esshar would be fitting for what he intends to do with it.

It is most definitely a fitting place.

"Hm, hm.."

Long consideration follows. The fact that it was recent and so many were hurt... perhaps it was one of the grand wars recently? He couldn't think of anything else. And still..

"That is bad."

"And good!" A surprising remark. "It means there's a lot of ground for me to work with."

Naturally, having something to do for a youth like him is important.

"Tell me."

"Who is that another?"
(Ambrose Roche)

"Names escape me. This more than any."

Another unfortunate lack of direct response. Ambrose's lack of sadness or sorrow - or his belief in such - is quite apparently below the spirit's mention, knowledge, or attention. However, it nevertheless seems quite ready to continue speaking upon such a topic as directly mentioned and inquired.

"An occultist, draped in red. A swordsman and a channeler of the stars. Had we not been injured,
tired, exhausted,

he would have fallen, all the same. But he did not,

and he destroyed our anchor to this world, in an attempt to eliminate us. We refused."

An array of adamantite shards glides upon the wind as it floats out from the center of the being's core, seeming more like dust than anything remotely resembling an anchor - but of course, the creature's nature most definitely explains how it might have once appeared.

"It could have been annihilation. Such a thing cannot be allowed to persist."
(Reticence)

The description escapes him.

Truth be told, he was still relatively recent arrival to Esshar, and there would be no way in which he could discover such a foe - at least, not anytime soon, and provided that he would even be able to come across one.

But...

"Ah!"

"Your tale is a tragic one, Reticence." A name that he's heard already - for the ghost admitted to it directly.

"But worry not!"

"I'm sure you'll have your vengeance yet, yes?"

Surely he would. As a being that comes from beyond the netherworld, he had practically all the time in the world - which couldn't be said for the one he's hunting.

Assuming he's hunting at all...

"Besides.."

"Ghosts can hardly ever go just by having their anchor destroyed." He knows that much. His experiences have been numerous.

"It doesn't sound like they knew what they're doing."
(Ambrose Roche)

"We require a strong anchor to exist."

A harsh draft beats against the chest of the armor. "Without it, we are nothing but a wisp. Without it, we are voices in the wind unheard, drifting upon the breeze as fate demands, and,

perhaps with time it has become worse. We can feel our dependence growing even as the connection tightens."

The explanation takes precedence over the discussion of vengeance, for a short moment. But with the necessity to return to such a discussion...

comes...
reticence. heh.

"It is not our nature to hide. It will come in time, or we will be destroyed. For the time being -

it is best if we go. To stay too long in one place is a mistake."
(Reticence)

A strong anchor?

It makes him curious as to what would even qualify as such.. and perhaps, a fitting use for different matters in the future - the matters that go unspoken, of course, for that would be left for the future.

"Hm.."

But he says nothing of it. Admitting to a Dullahan that one may look into anchoring ghosts and spirits in such manner may not be the brightest of ideas..

"I see!"

So instead, that's all he says. As for him leaving?

"Yes. It might be better for you to leave after all." Who knows? Maybe some people coming nearby might take an issue with them.

For just existing, as example.

"See you."
(Ambrose Roche)