The Vampire Quest shinies went "elsewhere". Non-zero chance Ferdinand is rocking something like Vlad's Ring of Not-Dying-When-Killed or similar.I am getting overthrowing our incompetent and undeserving vampire master vibes
She's pretty devout and has that as part of her charecter."Your ancient Kings served the gods. Feared them. Respected them. Vampires care not for anything but their bloodthirst, ambitions, and petty whims." The tone of the banshee's whisper is haughty, but you think you can hear the undertone of concern. "And you should know your value and hold onto your dignity, servant of Usirian. If you intend to live here, turn this place into something worthy of your station."
"I know. I know." You exhale. "There is a lot of work to do."
"Let's get to it, then. What a disaster. I leave you alone for one day, and you stuff yourself into a genuine hole in the ground. That dusty old tomb at least had gold and gems embedded in the walls."
A good reputation matters."A kindly old woman, living alone in Sylvania. Doing nothing but charity, paid with nothing but gratitude..." You mutter, thoughtfully. A spellcaster living humbly like this? You find it hard to believe. One who commands the winds should live in luxury and respect.
"The villagers provided her with the food and necessities. Besides, she earned enough goodwill that the locals keep her safe when witch hunters come around. Even the Baron is in on it, I think. Sylvania knows how to hide their own."
Ah, sponsored by local nobility while projecting an image of humility and frugality. Understandable.
I like her relationship with the Banshee."This is no better than living in a stable." The noble spirit does not even feel anything, and yet he is complaining. The wicked banshee is only happy to add fuel to the fire.
"The tender mercies of the afterlife had more dignity than this."
You moan into what passes as your pillow. "Have some dignity in death and stop complaining. We'll fix the place later. Now, Lathain - help me sleep."
"Tsk. How mighty have fallen..." Nonetheless, she starts humming a familiar melody. You feel your eyes get heavier and heavier, until...
Assuming people worship Chaos is messed up, dude is not good at his job." So... Priestess, huh." He hums, and looks at your robe, so unlike most local spellcasters wear. " That's not what most two-bit hedge mages call themself. So, what's your poison? The Wise? Or Perfect General?" He carefully watches your reaction. "No... The crow? The snake, perhaps? "
You almost sic the spirits on the man that very instant. The amethyst winds come in motion. The thin light of candles dim. The shadows get deeper, as your anger grows.
"Patience, patience..." you hear the banshee whisper. " The silly man is just trying to show due diligence, in his own silly way...Do you see the features of his face? He is from the North. He is used to the fell gods and their idiotic servants."
"...No. Don't ever compare me to the servants of the Four, if you value your life."
Just the situation for her skillset."Here is the deal; we got several dozen hungry half-feral ghouls in the barracks that have had human flesh in weeks. They are getting hungry, they are getting antsy, and normal rations are not sufficient anymore. Any longer, and we'll start having problems. Can you do something about that?"
"If you need them alive, I have the means to calm them down, perhaps. Maybe put them to sleep." You tentatively offer.
"...Anything would be good. Let's go. Prepare to fight for your life if things go badly."
As you hastily walk through the castle she continues the explanation. "It is typical ghoul-madness. After consuming human flesh for too long, you cannot go without for too long. That Bestoloch Albert was supposed to negotiate access with a temple of Morr nearby -"
She's a scary good spellcaster with impressive minons.You exhale. Time to impress on these people that you are no two-bit conjurer of tricks.
"Come, Lathain."
"As you wish."
The banshee manifests slowly - a purposefully dramatic gathering of mist and light. Immediately, Mikhail reaches for the axe resting at his hip, while ghoul-woman merely freezes. The gentle melody, an ancient promises of peace fill the air. You prepare to wait; more delicate applications of banshee's skills typically take time. You don't have to.
Almost immediately, you feel through the witchsight how ghouls calm down, the ghur and dhar of their souls pacified - and then they fall, one after another. Barely a few manage to rail at the blocked door, before succumbing like the rest. It takes very little time. Perhaps, these unfortunate souls are weak to this sort of influence?
"Taal's teeth. That's a fucking banshee." The look of horrified awe on the ghoul-woman's face is gratifying, even if she seems to have forgotten about your existence. "For how long she can keep that up?"
So he's likely hard invested into personal skills and artifacts good to know.Everyone rolled like shit on introduction rolls and random events, so everyone were suspicious, tired, angry and uncourteous while there was a box of angry ghouls in the courtyard. Then you rolled very well on dealing with problems. All that ends well, I suppose.
Yes, Ferdinand's servants are not exactly top-tier material. You are not the inner circle of Vlad Von Carstein, and Vampire Quest shinies went... places.
That's fair given that Cult names make sense.I exercised my modest but tyrannical QM powers to provide a name for the player character; given to her by the Cult. If you prefer her to be known by some other name in the story, vote for a pseudonym, which you'll be using henceforward. Depending on how things go, it might even end up truer than the other names; such is typical for people you'll be dealing with. New beginnings as dire masters of the night, all that.
So she's competent in Martial and Intrigue but not good, can't be bothered to be Diplomatic and knows enough Stewardship to scrap by. Well good news is that lower stats should hopefully be easier to raise.Martial:10 – you are not a general or an experienced leader. You know the bare basics.
Diplomacy: 5 – You are a scholar and a servant of the gods, not a socialite. You have a horrifying apparition of death to whisper secrets in your ear, if needs be.
Stewardship:7 – you skills at resource management starts and end at making demands. Sometimes, politely.
Intrigue:10 - You expect the worst from people.
She's a Faith and Learning monster which is fitting for the build we gave her.Faith:16 - You know gods of Nehekhara. You felt their touch.
Learning: 20 - The mysteries of death are laid bare.
Ah good to know.For these stats and any further statistics - excessively low stats do not necessarily mean inability. Sometimes, they stand-in for a complete unwillingness to engage with the subject, or utter disrespect for the field.
The traits are defining parts of her.TraitsDutiful – for whatever personal reason, you care about your duty to the mortuary cult, and, by extension, your mission in Vampire's court. Narrative bonuses to the relevant actions.
Necrotecture – you know how souls and matter interact, and how to imbue one with the other. More, you know how to do so in useful ways and in useful shapes.
Curse Of Eternity – for whatever reason, you find that you time-aspected magics are stronger.
Night Parade – for whatever reason, you have an immensely easier time than normal maintaining ghostly servants around you. Your ghostly retinue tends to supplement you strong skills and shore up your weaknesses.
Isolated Mortuary Cultist – your outpost haven't been in contact with Nehekhara for actual aeons.
Bitter – your experiences with the world left you expecting the worst from anyone but your closest family and companions.
Kingdom of the Lost - you a child of a kingdom that is nowhere to be found.
Getting more beneficial things like this would be good.Mutations, Arcane Marks And Other Bodily ChangesTouch of Usirian, minor – you grow feathers in your hair. Trivial to conceal. Ow, ow, ow.
Immortal Flesh – you drunk an incomplete version of the elixir that imbued Liche Priests with eternal life. You flesh is resistant to death.
Love the shady thrown at everyone.ContactsMikhail – an idiot and a boor who bothers people late in the evening. Deals with the matters of intrigue, supposedly.
Yulia – a ghoul woman who takes care of "whatever beasties Ferdinand picks up." Commands a small pack of ghouls... Her control is tenuous.
Albert – Another servant. Supposedly, takes care about material necessities. Second-hand impressions that leaves much to be desired.
Ferdinand – an ambitious, immortal thing in shape of the man. Loves to posture. Seemingly incapable of acquiring good servants.
Alwin - a faint wisp of a ghost, responsible for reconstruction of the keep, and bullied into many other things besides.
Miscellaneous mortal servants - you can't be bothered.
We should get some more.
She's a mage build and that maters.Yes.
Because this is no a quest about pig herders exploding when you breath wrong, spells are separated into those that do not hurt you very bad on bad rolls, and those that do. The former are minor magic. The latter are Major magic. Perhaps, eventually, you shall learn Cataclysmic magic.
Your magic is a mix of elemental manipulation of Shyish and Nehekharan divine chants. Almost always you can do without one element or the other, although potency and reliability of your spells suffers.
A pretty impressive arsenal.Minor magic.Minor prestidigitations - Make people feel the cold of death, kill grievously injured and those who given up on life, manifest minor omens of death, etcetera. Minor effects as appropriate.
Usurian's incantation of Awareness – allows spellcaster to see through the eyes of the undead they control.
Usurian's incantation of Knowledge – You are allowed to ask the dead questions. As many as you'd like. Only works on spirits and corpses in the vicinity.
Gaze of Ulatep – gain awareness of corpses in close vicinity. Works on undead.
Soul Jar – extract and imprison a soul in a specially prepared contained.
Binding of Usurian – imbue an object with a previously captured soul.
Spell of Immortality – after casting, the target does not die regardless of injuries inflicted for the duration of the current scene.
Ptra's nostalgic gaze – allows one to see the events that transpired in a location of casting. Works better in places of death or endings.
Bargain of Death – you can summon the spirits of the recently deceased to serve you. Should they attempt to betray you, dire fate shall befall them.
Ptra's willful negligence - you freeze the target in time for several hours to a day. Could be extended or empowered with set-up. Interacts unfavourably with immense raw forces.
Faint Embers rebirth - After casting, the target appears to die to all but most through examinations. To the target, it appears as if they are stuck in some sort of liminal realm while experiencing confusing visions, occasionally experiencing strange visitations. After several days, they rise - their appearance changes, and all of their wounds are healed. Does not cure arcane marks. Does not reverse age, although somewhat mitigates age-related infirmities. Does not work if majority of the body is missing. Inconvenient to cast in combat.
Death and Sky Bargain - Designate a target; a living being, phenomena, organization. After casting, receive a bonus on all actions meant to facilitate the target's end. Become strongly compelled to seek the target's end for a month. Requires a long ritual.
Having some big guns is useful.Major Magic.Incantation of Beckoning – you summon as many of your ghostly servants as desired to you, regardless of distance. Takes several hours. Works everywhere.
Djdra incantation of summoning – You re-unite souls of your dead servants with suitable bodies. Could be cast as a minor spell.
Horekhah's incantation of smiting – You briefly but dramatically boost speed of a chosen group of friendly targets.
Curse of Eternities – Large group of enemies swiftly ages to dust. Affects terrain.
That's my read on things to.The Vampire Quest shinies went "elsewhere". Non-zero chance Ferdinand is rocking something like Vlad's Ring of Not-Dying-When-Killed or similar.
It is a bit early to deem him incompetent just because Nefertari is his greatest Servant.
[X] Plan: Funerary Goods
I require more resources for swanky statuary. Also I am kind of surprised by how chill the Nehekharan Pantheon is with necromancy. Granted I don't know much of Nehekharan magic prior to Nagash inventing necromancy and using it to lay waste to his nation, so maybe they were conjuring ghosts willy-nilly back then.
I require more resources for swanky statuary. Also I am kind of surprised by how chill the Nehekharan Pantheon is with necromancy. Granted I don't know much of Nehekharan magic prior to Nagash inventing necromancy and using it to lay waste to his nation, so maybe they were conjuring ghosts willy-nilly back then.
Avoiding the pertinent question as to why exactly The Outpost is in the middle of nowhere even by standards of rather-expansive territories of Nehekhara shortly after Settra's death - the whole carousel started with Liche Priests.
When they figured out how to bind their souls to their bodies to "live" forever, the rest of the tradition was irrevocably shaped by knowledge acquired in that process. Then they promised that and better to their Kings, eventually, as a part of their foundational mythos. The research never stopped.
When Nagash was born, he came into an empire who was obsessed with death, and very busy trying to cheat it - which resulted in a lot of knowledge about how to ask Usirian for... various divine favours. After his first defeat, for... various reasons... the tilt toward seeking powers of death got even worse.
The dungeon was exactly as expected; cold, unfriendly, and full of abandoned corpses. Also, full of Amethyst wind.
It took some convincing, but, in the end, you managed to claim the space as your own. A small group of mortal servants cleaned up the space where, presumably, the jailer of this keep lived. It didn't too much to move your current belongings, humble as they are.
There is a lot of things to be done before this place is worthy of you, but for now, it'll suffice.
"Jerked around like a petty wisp. What a disgrace."
She was a strange visage, a thing of mists and pale light. Wielding a strange harp, dressed in ornate grave-robes - you knew not of her origins, besides the fact that when you called upon Usirian for help in the moment of dire need, she was the servant that arrived. Against your expectations, she remained.
"You agreed to serve, Lathain." You are almost completely sure that is yet another pseudonym that everyone seems to be so fond of, these days - but that is how she introduced herself when you met.
So I did. " Her whole figure radiating displeasure, the banshee floated toward the only table in your newly acquired dungeon. Sitting down, a harp in hand, idly plucking the strings she makes for quite a picture - although incapable of many physical comforts, she always cared about appearances.
" Did you have to go from one half-destroyed tomb to another? There are still abandoned corpses in the cells, Nerfertari. What are you doing? Did you anger your new lord already?"
" I had my reasons." You follow in banshee's stead and get comfortable on the only bed in the room. Try to, at least. " The meeting went about as well as it could have expected. The vampire is very much like the Kings grandfather described. Vain. Self-aggrandizing. Ambitious."
"Your ancient Kings served the gods. Feared them. Respected them. Vampires care not for anything but their bloodthirst, ambitions, and petty whims." The tone of the banshee's whisper is haughty, but you think you can hear the undertone of concern. "And you should know your value and hold onto your dignity, servant of Usirian. If you intend to live here, turn this place into something worthy of your station."
"I know. I know." You exhale. "There is a lot of work to do."
"Let's get to it, then. What a disaster. I leave you alone for one day, and you stuff yourself into a genuine hole in the ground. That dusty old tomb at least had gold and gems embedded in the walls."
The second significant spirit in your retinue required much more effort to summon properly. While you felt their presence after the summoning - their mind failed to wake up.
So you were now standing over a carefully cleaned skull of a stranger, weaving shyish into sacred patterns meant to stimulate recovery of the three parts of his soul that suffered the most. It was a difficult and monotonous work, demanding much of your attention if not terribly much power; even with Lathain's ever-present melody providing sharpness of focus.
"Picking up wanderers on the side of the road." Even when using most of her strength to assist you, she still finds the effort to continue whispering in your ear "What would grandfather say..."
You hush the evil spirit at your side just as the unfortunate soul of a man you found stirs - first, as a brief trick of light, then as a gathering mist, and finally - as a disheveling image of a man, covered in blood. Typical of spirits who died traumatic death. What isn't typical is Dhar lingering on him, spread through his damaged soul. Dark magic was involved in his death.
"Where am I? What happened? Where is Leopold? Where is the traitorous dog?!"
"Peace, peace. Remember your oath. Remember your promise to the God of the Dead." You covertly signal through the winds for Lathain to exert her abilities andhoperemind yourself that you assembled the ritual circle correctly. The ever-present subtle melody becomes a lulling call to melancholy and peace.
" Promise?.. Ah." The furious energy drains from the ghost as quickly as it comes. The banshee's uncanny ability to manipulate the winds and minds through her voice and music is ever-useful. " You are the one who brought me back, correct? You are the one who arranged..." He paused, clearly incapable of putting his brief contact with the divine into proper words. "...The bargain?"
It often takes ghosts like him some time to realize their newly disembodied state, or to remember such details - this level of mental acuity immediately after awakening is a good sign. "Yes. You begged for justice, and I needed somebody who knows these strange lands."
"A necromancer, then." He looks at you, gaze evaluating. Left to wonder about what sort of thoughts were going on in that head of his, you continue.
"Your Sekhem... Your soul is weakened, some parts of it are fragmented. Somebody used dark magic on you. Do you remember what happened?"
"Yes... I was with Leopold on a hunt. I wanted to talk with him about Otto's health and... " He picks his words carefully "the future of Sylvania. I waited until we had an opportunity to talk one-on-one... and then... He shot me." He falls silent, his face contorting into an expression of pain.
You heard enough. Just as your grandfather told you, the games of nobility are the same everywhere.
"Enough. You need not to torture yourself further. Now, if you wish to persist on this plane, instead of going to whatever afterlife you deserve - you shall obey me. My master stands at odds with the current rulers of this land - so serve me well, and you'll have your vengeance. "
You do not know what this man thinks about this, as a person of barbaric religion and member of local barbaric tribes of man; surely the proposition is unpleasant for him. None of it showed on his face when he straightened up and looked you in the eye.
"...Alright. My name is Helmut Von Drak, and in the name of revenge, I shall serve. What do you need me to do?"
You wish you had better maps.
"Helmut, what do you know about... This settlement?"
"Been wiped out for generations. Who drew this map? A child?"
"And this one? With an unpronounceable name?"
"Never existed. And you should practice your Reikspiel more. Where did you find these?"
"Alwin got them from somewhere."
"Whoever that is, never ask them about maps ever again. Listen" He points at what is, according to the maps, a space in the middle of nowhere. "There is a large village here, arguably a small city. You can reach it by the road... here."
After a brief period of rest and recuperation, you decided to ask the man to help you understand the lay of the land. You have things to do here, after all. With ancient maps, Alwin procured from... somewhere... at your request, you tried to make sense of the region - which would've been an entirely fruitless endeavor if not for Helmut's help.
"Gablitz is a small village under the control of Baron Detlev Nägelein. Quaint little village, we hunted ghouls there a couple of times. They trade furs with their neighbors, farm a little, and occasionally suffer attacks from the beasts of Hunger Forest... "He stays silent for a moment before steeling himself. "And it is a home to a witch. She mostly provided cures and blessings to the locals and asked little in return. Lived there for as long as I remember."
"A kindly old woman, living alone in Sylvania. Doing nothing but charity, paid with nothing but gratitude..." You mutter, thoughtfully. A spellcaster living humbly like this? You find it hard to believe. One who commands the winds should live in luxury and respect.
"The villagers provided her with the food and necessities. Besides, she earned enough goodwill that the locals keep her safe when witch hunters come around. Even the Baron is in on it, I think. Sylvania knows how to hide their own."
Ah, sponsored by local nobility while projecting an image of humility and frugality. Understandable.
"So, what could have made act out? Strange lights, ailing cattle, noise, tales of monsters..." If she had a good thing going for her - what changed? Small-time practitioners like this cannot afford to gather the ill will of their small communities. " Perhaps, an unwise choice of apprentices? Or a rival encroaching on her territory?"
"That... Could be it." The man nods. "Inexperienced magicians do often fall into overambitious foolishness. So, what do you want to do?"
"Nefertari, we should learn more before doing anything rush." The banshee whispers in your ear. "Visit the local graveyard, let us question the dead..."
"We could directly approach the baron." Suggests the nobleman. "Locals might hide things from the outsiders, but the baron surely knows something."
Or you could bargain with Usurian and Ptra, and simply level the whole place with the tides of time. Decisions, decisions...
As you toss and torn in your bed, you admit to yourself that perhaps, you were overambitious with your choice of accommodations.
The dungeon is cold and unprepared for habitation, you faintly hear what might be some sort of vermin gnawing on the bones, and the draft is annoying. Your elixir-enchanted flesh should allow you to endure without having to deal with little indignities of flesh such as common cold or lesser afflictions - but that doesn't make it pleasant.
And then there are your capricious companions.
"This is no better than living in a stable." The noble spirit does not even feel anything, and yet he is complaining. The wicked banshee is only happy to add fuel to the fire.
"The tender mercies of the afterlife had more dignity than this."
You moan into what passes as your pillow. "Have some dignity in death and stop complaining. We'll fix the place later. Now, Lathain - help me sleep."
"Tsk. How mighty have fallen..." Nonetheless, she starts humming a familiar melody. You feel your eyes get heavier and heavier, until...
...You wake up to heavy knocking. It almost sounds like someone is trying to break the door.
"One person. A man, from the north. Angry, but not furious. Take care."
You throw on your robe and prepare yourself quickly, before opening the door. To the credit of the red-haired man you see on the other side, he does not barge in immediately the moment you open the door.
"So, you are the witch."
"...And you are?" You ask carefully, mentally sorting through incantations you could use to get rid of the man. He was impressively large - but a little bulk shouldn't be a problem.
"The person whom Ferdinand is supposed to consult before inviting more strays into his inner circle. Mikhail is the name. The spy, the knife the darkness, and the person who'll probably be saddled with trying to provide you with warpstone. You ilk loves their warpstone, right? " He stays still, silent, for a couple of seconds; watching for your reaction.
You show none. Was this the reason he woke up you just as you were trying to get some rest? Finally, he grunts. "So, you are going to let me in or not?"
Somewhat reluctantly, and, perhaps, against your better judgement you allow the man inside. Lathain did not whisper further warning into your ears, so this man is not planning on murdering you immediately, at least. It is somewhat hard to tell, with the local barbarians and brutes.
"When I heard that somebody decided to live in the dungeon, I almost didn't believe it. So, what's your deal? Summoning fell spirits as a hobby? Stealing the dead? Dining on children? What sort of nastiness do I have to prepare for?"
"I am a priestess of the gods." You answer, tone glacial. Why do you have to bear with the indignity of expectations these crude tribesmen have? Was this really worth disturbing your rest?
" So... Priestess, huh." He hums, and looks at your robe, so unlike most local spellcasters wear. " That's not what most two-bit hedge mages call themself. So, what's your poison? The Wise? Or Perfect General?" He carefully watches your reaction. "No... The crow? The snake, perhaps? "
You almost sic the spirits on the man that very instant. The amethyst winds come in motion. The thin light of candles dim. The shadows get deeper, as your anger grows.
"Patience, patience..." you hear the banshee whisper. " The silly man is just trying to show due diligence, in his own silly way...Do you see the features of his face? He is from the North. He is used to the fell gods and their idiotic servants."
"...No. Don't ever compare me to the servants of the Four, if you value your life."
"Ah. Alright." The man had the graces to at least look apologetic. Or intimidated, you really couldn't tell. "Then tell me about your gods, then."
Is this person insane. "Why should I explain anything now? Is this really the time? I was trying to sleep." Your attempts to convey how deeply unwanted the presence of this man here are, sadly, go ignored.
"As I said, It is my job to know about people Ferdinand invites into his house. Besides- it is not that late, and one should always know about the gods of their fellows. Especially in places such as this."
"And what about your gods?" Please, be unwilling to talk.
"I paid respect to many gods - but in these lands, I sacrifice to Ulric, the wolf. Now, you turn."
Another follower of local barbaric faith. No matter, at least it isn't Morr.
"I pay respects to many gods, but Usirian... God of the Dead is closest to my heart." You grudgingly allow.
"God of the Dead? In the court of a vampire? How did that happen."
You were about to suggest to the man to find a different time for your interrogation in more forceful terms when the door into your dungeon was kicked - do they really have to do that - open by yet another unwelcome visitor.
It was a woman. She was huge. She was... green. With numerous small bony growths jutting out of her body, not-at-all concealed by her tattered gambeson.
A ghoul. You tensed.
"Mikhail. We are in the deep shit." The voice is like a hiss and growl combined - you ready yourself, words of power once again on your lips. "Albert fucked up. The food shipment did not arrive."
"What? " the man looks toward the newcomer, his face is much like that of a man who suddenly discovered that he, indeed, found himself in a pile of shit. "It should have arrived yesterday. Did he fuck up again?"
"He did. The ghouls are getting restless, Mikhail. Ferdinand just stuffed them into the barracks when they got rowdy and that is not enough. What the fuck are we going to do come night, when the hunger and the madness are going to become impossible to control? They haven't had their fill of flesh in weeks. And who is that?"
"Our new court mage. Or priestess. It is a bit of a mess."
"Spellcaster, huh? " The monster-woman takes a long look at you, and you can almost see change her opinion of you change from "strange person somewhere they shouldn't be" to "fellow companion in dire misfortune." Then she speaks.
"Here is the deal; we got several dozen hungry half-feral ghouls in the barracks that have had human flesh in weeks. They are getting hungry, they are getting antsy, and normal rations are not sufficient anymore. Any longer, and we'll start having problems. Can you do something about that?"
"If you need them alive, I have the means to calm them down, perhaps. Maybe put them to sleep." You tentatively offer.
"...Anything would be good. Let's go. Prepare to fight for your life if things go badly."
As you hastily walk through the castle she continues the explanation. "It is typical ghoul-madness. After consuming human flesh for too long, you cannot go without for too long. That Bestoloch Albert was supposed to negotiate access with a temple of Morr nearby -"
"He did." Mikhail interrupts. "Whatever happened is a breach of contract. Albert promised me that he extracted a proper agreement from the temple."
"As if this is the first time he relies on promises of someone unreliable. Whatever happened, we are left with animal dry meat and bread. I hope you are up to the task, newbie - because otherwise, we'll be neck-deep in hungry ghouls I cannot control anymore. Gods help us if Ferdinand learns about this."
You are led to the decrypt barracks, hastily refit for habitation. With your witch-sight, you see the agitated souls inside - dhar-soiled wretches, barely human, barely living, existing in the grip of hunger. The sounds coming from inside are indescribable.
"The ghouls are inside. The door is locked, not that it is going to stop them once they lose control. If you can do anything, do it now." The ghoul-woman's stress is seeping off her every demand. She expects things to go badly.
You exhale. Time to impress on these people that you are no two-bit conjurer of tricks.
"Come, Lathain."
"As you wish."
The banshee manifests slowly - a purposefully dramatic gathering of mist and light. Immediately, Mikhail reaches for the axe resting at his hip, while ghoul-woman merely freezes. The gentle melody, an ancient promises of peace fill the air. You prepare to wait; more delicate applications of banshee's skills typically take time. You don't have to.
Almost immediately, you feel through the witchsight how ghouls calm down, the ghur and dhar of their souls pacified - and then they fall, one after another. Barely a few manage to rail at the blocked door, before succumbing like the rest. It takes very little time. Perhaps, these unfortunate souls are weak to this sort of influence?
"Taal's teeth. That's a fucking banshee." The look of horrified awe on the ghoul-woman's face is gratifying, even if she seems to have forgotten about your existence. "For how long she can keep that up?"
"Now that they are subdued? The whole day, and many days in a row. This would interfere with my other responsibilities, however." You try very hard to convey your opinion of the idea without saying anything else. You think you are successful.
"A day should be enough for me to figure out something to keep us going." Mikhail speaks. "I know a guy. A couple more, and I figure out what's the hold-up. "
You look toward the ghoul woman, who seems to be entranced by the visage of the banshee. It takes her a little longer to notice your glare - strange. You don't think Lathain intended to affect her.
"Call me Yulia. I am responsible for taking care of all these unfortunate souls, as any beasties Ferdinand picks up. If you need a force without scruples, without a need for pay, utterly ruthless, and hungry for blood - come to me."
With that, your first unexpected incident was over. Gods willing, it'll be the only one. Hopefully, now you can rest uninterrupted.
Very soon you shall encounter a person of non-insignificant skill or means, who'll for one reason or another, decided follow you through hell and worse. Who are they? Choose one (1).
[] Masterful thief.
[] A jaded investigator.
[] A lonely monstrosity.