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The Spirit Detectives

Ekland Farm

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a part of The Spirit Detectives, by Soul_Alchemist.

None

Soul_Alchemist holds sovereignty over Ekland Farm, giving them the ability to make limited changes.

932 readers have been here.

Copyright: The creator of this roleplay has attributed some or all of its content to the following sources:

http://www.ernielindsey.com/the-dark-man-desmond-doane/

Setting

Default Location for The Spirit Detectives
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Minimap

Ekland Farm is a part of The Spirit Detectives.

1 Places in Ekland Farm:

6 Characters Here

Cassandra Artemis [42] "Camera work is easy, just point and shoot."
Monk Dawa [42] You ever seen a monk naked before? *smirk*
Duncan McAlister [42] Did you hear that?
Briella Adair [41] "Pose for the picture, ghosty!"
Tom Passano [41] He means business.
Leon D'Artagnan [39] A deviously curious boy with a love of mystery novels & things that shine.

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Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tom Passano Character Portrait: Leon D'Artagnan Character Portrait: Briella Adair Character Portrait: Cassandra Artemis Character Portrait: Monk Dawa Character Portrait: Duncan McAlister
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#, as written by WilPen
[THIS POST IS BROUGHT TO YOU BY MARRONEGUISE AND WILPEN]

Dawa was quick to defend himself at Tom's outburst. He threw his hands up and cocked his head with a sly grin saying, "Alright! Alright! I was just joking. There's no need to get physical here." He then raised his voice to a yell, "And that includes you too! I'll leaver her alone!" For now, he added in his thoughts. Turning to Cassie he put on his most innocent face and asked, "Is it alright if I come with you?"

Cassie's eyes blinked rapidly, still slightly blinded from the incredibly bright light that had sent the being away. The light spots in her vision meant she hadn't noticed the figure lingering after the unexpected light show, but that was probably for the better. Without seeing it linger, she could convince herself it was just a shadow from outside. The spots cleared up just in time to see the monk making the strangest face. It was as if he was trying to do an interpretive dance using only his eyebrows. She was caught off guard by his question. So far, he'd shown no inclination that he'd ever ask permission for anything. As her Nanna would say, he was an 'Easier to ask forgiveness than for permission' type of person.

"I suppose I don't mind as long as you keep those sort of comments to yourself," She shrugged. Cassie wasn't sure what Tom could see in the dark, so she quickly stepped closer to him and patted his hand in thanks. She wasn't exactly comfortable with Dawa's comments, but after the figure's appearance she didn't want to go alone. Duncan seemed a little out of it, and after Leon's comment about where they were headed, she definitely didn't want to go with them. Before she could consider Briella, she was interrupted by Dawa's hands.

'Well this is taking forever,' Dawa thought. He grabbed Cassie's shoulder's and steered her down the hall towards the Parlor Room calling out over his shoulder, "We've got our earpieces! You just take it easy, Homie." Again, a dated reference revealed his upbringing had been a little... irregular.


When they made reached the end of the hallway, Dawa stepped softly into the room first. He wanted to check it out before he let Cassie anywhere near it. Earlier, he'd just been giving her a hard time, but he truly didn't want anything to happen to her. The room seemed empty, he couldn't sense any spirits. Though if Dawa was being honest, he wasn't the best at sensing non-malicious ghosts, as evidenced earlier. Either way, he moved to the side and let Cassie in.

Cassie was a little confused as Dawa had spent the better part of two minutes stuck in the doorway. His eyes seemed to glance over every inch of the medium sized place. She thought about suggesting that it would be easier to find her bag if they actually went into the room, but held her tongue. He hadn't made any comments so far and she wasn't going to try and say anything that would end that. Once he let her in, she gave him a description of her backpack, not that there were any others to confuse it with, and they began the search.


Dawa had found the backpack about 5 minutes ago. He hadn't yet told Cassie because the second he locked eyes with the bag he felt an overwhelming feeling of curiosity about the contents. So far he'd found a Ouija board, a plethora of multicolored candles, various herbs, and some crystals. Cassie was certainly full of surprises. With her 'supernatural things aren't real' attitude, he never would have suspected she'd come packing such items.

When he opened the front pocket, a deck of Tarot cards fell out onto the floor. After studying them for a second he popped up from behind the couch he'd been hiding behind. "Hey Cass, I found your bag. Also, these fell out. Weird." He smiled a sly smile. "Come tell my fortune."

Cassie was started by the sudden outburst in an otherwise silent room. She pursed her lips at the obviously searched bag and said,"Hmm...no."

Dawa looked so defeated. His shoulder's sank and his bottom lip quivered. "Please Cass?" He begged, "It'll be good for the investigation!" She sighed in response. Cassie had promised her Nanna that she'd do whatever she could to help the investigation. That way her Grandmother could be sure Cassie was truly not psychic if nothing happened. Cassie took the bag from him and began setting up the reading as she was taught.


With a little incense burning, they sat on opposite sides of the table. Joining hands, they meditated for a short while until Dawa said he was ready. Cassie wasn't so sure she was though. She gave a short overview of what each needed to do. She chose the simplest layout for this reading.

Dawa took the deck from the center of the table and shuffled it, clearing away any energies that remained from previous uses. He set the deck on the table and asked in a loud, clear voice, "What is going to happen to me in this house?" After Dawa cut the deck into 4 piles, he placed the top cards in the positions indicated by Cassie.

Cassie reached for the first card. Just as her hand grazed the card, it turned over on its own. Death. Both shocked, the two non-spirits in the room locked eyes. "The wind," Cassie rationalized. Dawa nodded despite not believing it for a second.

She saw the tension building in Dawa as he nearly glared at the card, "Death doesn't mean you're going to die. It means you are going to change. Or... something is going to change." Cassie hadn't paid much attention when her Nanna taught her these things, but repeating them enough times let her remember at least the basics.

Reaching for the second card, she wasn't sure what to expect. Yet again, the card flipped over at the barest touch from Cassie. Reverse Magician. Realizing it'd be stupid to try and accuse the wind again, she pretended it didn't happen. "Since it's reverse, it means you need to work on your ego-" Cassie was interrupted.

"Cass, maybe you should try to talk to them. They sure seem like they want to talk to you." Dawa reached over and took her hand again.

Cassie stared at the monk as if he was insane. He wanted her to talk to nothing? He didn't seem willing to let up. She turned to the room and in a shaky voice called out, "I-if you want, I c-can tell your fortune n-next." For the smallest sliver of a second, she swore she saw an old woman pointing towards the door with an urgent expression.

The minute Cassie began speaking to the spirit that had been interfering with their game, Dawa felt the room grow heavy. Evil was seeping in through the ceiling and through the cracks. He wanted to grab Cassie and run, but he was stuck to his seat by the same force that had kept his eyes locked on the figure through the window. Trying with all his might to scream for Cassie to get out, he could only manage a small peep. It was too late.

The darkness had collected itself into one form and it advanced on the unseeing Cassie. It launched itself nearly halfway across the room and knocked her chair to the floor. A bone chilling scream echoed in the room, but Dawa couldn't identify who it came from. The monk used all the might he could muster and pushed himself out of his chair. It felt as if he was traveling through molasses, but he powered through.

The darkness was so thick he couldn't even see Cassie, but he held out his palm toward the being on top of her. Saying the simple words that had been like a mantra earlier in his life, he was terrified to see the being only laugh. That chant worked on the most powerful demons he'd met so far. He repeated the chant over and over, seeing the figure back away from him. It wasn't disappearing as they usually do, but it was at least bothered by it.

Once he caught sight of a bloodied Cassie, he grabbed her jacket hood and pulled her towards the door with one hand while keeping the other up. Still chanting, he pulled her into his arms once he reached the door. Cassie was hysterical, holding onto him so tightly he thought he may lose circulation. Her sobs were cutting deep into his soul, but he turned and ran back to the living room.

Once they arrived, he set Cassie down long enough to create a salt circle around them. She didn't make it easy though, Cassie was scrambling to hold onto him as if he was her lifeline. Despite the rapid beating of his heart and the absolute terror on his face, he sat down across from her on the floor. "It's okay, Cass. We're safe now." Dawa wasn't sure that was true, but letting her cry wasn't going to help. He set to work trying to clean her up enough to find where the blood was coming from. There was a concerning amount, but he just kept talking to her as if they'd just been on a nice jog rather than a run for their lives.

Maybe this house was more dangerous than either of them thought.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tom Passano Character Portrait: Leon D'Artagnan Character Portrait: Briella Adair Character Portrait: Cassandra Artemis Character Portrait: Monk Dawa Character Portrait: Duncan McAlister
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#, as written by Dae Mec
[This is a collab post between Soul_Detective and myself.]

Briella watched with concern as Duncan reiterates the ground rules. This time, however, he said it with a distinct lack of energy that wasn't good.

"You alright?" she asked, stepping forward. Duncan sat (though maybe fell would be a better word) down on the folding chair, looking rather winded. Despite his brave face, Briella had a feeling that he wasn't feeling as well as he pretended. The others were already beginning to head deeper into the house.

"It okay if I stay back with you?" Briella gave a bright smile that had just a hint of dry humor. "It seems that the others have already picked their partners, and I'm the odd one out. There's no way I'm going out there alone."

"I don't blame you, not after what just happened," Duncan said with a small chuckle. "Sure, I could use a little company. And yeah, I'm fine, really, just got the wind knocked out of me is all."

With a short sigh, she pulled up a chair and took her seat beside him. Briella knew that the computers didn't really need another check-up, but it was a habit by now. After running a quick diagnostic, she pulled up the heat map, noting the odd fluctuations in the parlor room.

"That's odd," remarked Briella. "The temperature dropped rapidly there. Isn't that where Cassie and Dawa went?" She paused. "I hope it's nothing serious. Cassie's a little spooked, as is. Dawa, on the other had, seems to have some experience. His occasional... tendencies, aside."

Duncan took a look at the screens before he said anything. He watched as the two of them start searching around the room, looking for something. Nothing struck him as too out of the ordinary, so he just shrugged. "Maybe there's something in there with them but it doesn't seem to be doing anything right now. With as many corpses as there are supposed to be buried around here, there's got to be more than a few minor ghosts floating around in this place."

"Without a doubt." Briella blinked as the computer beeped at her. "What?" She clicked again and leaned forward. "Hey, Duke. You seeing this?" All at once, the temperature in their room dropped slightly, the magnetic field rose, and the amount of static electricity increased. It was just enough to be detected on the sensors. "I think... I think something might be here." Briella glanced at him. Though she could translate for the tech, this was usually his area of expertise.

On the screen that showed the view from the stationary camera that had been set up in the parlor, all Duncan could see at first was Dawa hiding behind a couch with a backpack. Hopefully the one Cassie had been looking for, and not one belonging to a ghost. He watched the two of them began conversing with one another, and then he noticed the tarot cards. "Shit, sorry, didn't mean to curse. Those cards will be like a magnet for spirits in a place like this," he said, leaning in close. "Can you zoom in on the table? I thought I saw something..."

"Sure." Now concerned, Briella scrolled the mouse, zooming in on the cards—just in time to see one flip over. She tilted her head. Cassie and Dawa were saying something, but a thin layer of static was present. It wasn't enough to obscure the meaning, but Briella really hoped that she'd misheard it. "Sorry, the audio's a bit fuzzy. But I think," she hesitated, "I'm pretty sure they said something about that card being death." Briella shrugged. "But, as you mentioned, there's been a lot of death in this place..."

"I knew I should have learned to read tarot when that gypsy in Ireland offered to teach me," Duncan half-joked as he watched another card flip. "Well, it doesn't seem to be anything bad. Maybe it's just...wait, what was that? Did you see the figure there, close to Cassie? It looked like an old woman, I think."

Briella smiled at his comment, but she quickly became serious at the mention of the figure. Hopefully, it wasn't like the one that attacked Duncan. "Give me a sec..." On the other computer, the one displaying heat readings, Briella pulled up the video feed from the parlor room. A few taps of the keyboard later, she'd rewinded and paused the screen, revealing the blurry picture of a woman. "This what you—" Briella stopped at the shrill whine of the computer and the abrupt pop-up; all the readings in the parlor room were off the charts! She zoomed out again. And if that wasn't enough, Cassie and Dawa's expressions revealed that something was very, very wrong.

At first Duncan thought, hoped, that maybe the two of them were just surprised by the cards being flipped over, but then he looked over at all the warning and cursed again. He knew enough about the electronic side of things to know that the bells and whistles were, in this case, a very bad no good thing. Just as he stood up something dark appears and flings itself across the room at Cassie. Duncan tried to move, but collapsed in the chair, breathing hard. His energy had yet to return, making him physically too weak to do anything about what just happened.

"Hey, don't push yourself too hard!" Briella said, concerned for both Cassie and Duncan. Of course, it wasn't like she could do anything to help the girl in the other room, especially considering her lack of spiritual talent, so she focused on the person she can help. "You alright?" Without waiting for an answer, Briella stood up and grabbed one of the water bottles by the rest of supplies. She knew her friend well enough to not dwelve on his moment of weakness. She frowned at the meager amount of food and water they had. Hopefully, more would be delivered. Efficiently and briskly, she makes her way to Duncan and hands him the water. "If only Leon and his endless supply of candy was here," Briella says with mock disappointment. "Some sugar would do you good."

"Thanks," Duncan said as he takes the bottle. Opening it he takes a sip and frowns. "Sweet tea would be a lot better. Maybe when Leon comes back I can get a candy off him and put it in the water. That'd be close enough, right?" Briella would know well enough that this was Duncan's way of coping with things. Outside he might be smiling, but inside he was in turmoil, and at the moment there was little he could do about it, which didn't help.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Leon D'Artagnan Character Portrait: Briella Adair Character Portrait: Cassandra Artemis Character Portrait: Monk Dawa Character Portrait: Duncan McAlister
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After the dark entity launched itself at Cassie, the screens filled up with static that hurt Duncan's ears. Suddenly the air around the command station dropped a few degrees, no where near as much as it had in the parlor room just moments ago, but enough to give Duncan that sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

When the monk comes hurtling out of the room, a rather banged up looking Cassie in his arms, and drops to the floor with her, muttering and drawing a salt circle, the spirit detective curses under his breath, opens his bottle of water, then stands and rushes over to the doorway. Looking back into the parlor room, it's gone dark, the lights they had set up are out, but even so he can see some dark shape with red eyes staring back at him. "Have a drink on me, you bastard!" Duncan yells at the thing before tossing his water into the room.

The bottom of the bottle hits the floor a couple of feet from the entity, causing the water to splash up like a small geyser. Where the water hits the dark thing, smoke seems to rise up, holes appear in it as if it were made from a sheet of black cloth that had been touched by burning embers. The dark things screeches and then fades away once more, and a second later the lights come back on and the temperature rises.

"Holy water, works every time..." Duncan mutters, keeping himself between the parlor room and his friends. "I knew it was a good idea to have a priest owe me a favor. I had him bless all the water bottles before we came here."

Duncan stands there a few moments longer before turning to Cassie and Dawa. The monk seemed to have thing under control. He wondered how the dark thing had gotten to Cassie if she had the silver key though. Silver was, and usually did, ward off spirits. Looking back into the room he can see a few of her things scattered about on the table and the floor beside it, and among them he notices a glint of light. Going into the room, slowly, he walks over to Cassie's things and begins to pick them up. The glint turned out to be the silver key, which he pockets for the time being. He finds candles, and among them an indigo one has broken at the middle, so it hangs by the exposed wick. This causes him to pause, he remembers reading something about that particular color having to do with psychic abilities some how. With a shrug he puts the candles away in the bag, then goes to pick up the cards.

After gathering up what he hopes to be all of the tarot cards, he finds one has escaped his reach. "Ten of cups huh? And upside down. I wonder what that could mean?" Duncan says to himself as he places the card on the deck and shuffles it a couple of times before putting the deck away as well.

Ten of cups...in reverse... A voice says. Again it comes from right behind Duncan, and he can feel it draining his energy to communicate with him, but the words seem to be in his this time, the drain barely there. Broken home...very apt card. You should not have come here... The voice seems to be that of a young woman.

"Will you tell me your name?" Duncan asks, taking out the spirit box again. Turning it on he hears nothing but static for a moment, then the feeling of energy being drained disappears. Just before he turns off the box he hears Elisabeth come through loud and clear. Then the presence is gone and he relaxes a little. "Elisabeth? The daughter of Jakob...I didn't read anything about her soul being stuck here..."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: [NPC] Bartender Character Portrait: Tom Passano Character Portrait: Briella Adair Character Portrait: Cassandra Artemis Character Portrait: Monk Dawa Character Portrait: Duncan McAlister
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Tom, quite focused on the task of possibly having to take action against any potential womanizers in the room--not naming any names-- barely moved from his spot, half-aware of his partner's rustling sounds from his back. A soft hand patting his own broke his concentration, and he grunted, swiveling his head down from where it was fixed like a hawk on the current happenings and stuffing his own gloved hand in his pocket.

"Can't argue with that." He spoke in a lower, polite tone, suddenly completely calm again. At least Cassie was able to snap him out of it-- but he does flicker a slightly warning glance at Dawa. Not entirely hostile at his actions, but...serious. Guarded, as if he was telling him to do his best at making sure nothing horrible ends up happening...Though he isn't a big shot psychic, he can feel the strange energy crackling in the middle room of the house, and if this is just what it feels like on the get go, it's bound to grow worse as soon as everybody splits. Tom, shifting his position, watches from narrowed hazel eyes as their boss sinks down into a fatigued position. Upon the mention of earpieces, he is reminded to adjust his own for emergencies...

"You know what we should do?" The voice of his friend cuts through again. His eyes widen and he brings a hand to the side of his head, as if he was going to whip off his sunglasses in surprise before finding he'd already clipped them to his collar. "Whatever it is, hold it...things are gonna get nasty soon, though. Just listen for now." He murmurs without looking around. He can feel Leon getting antsy already; being cooped up really isn't their style, after all.

He's starting to feel the shadow cast over the place, too. It's an ache in the back of his head; a subtle crawling sensation, as if someone was running their hands through his hair. The big man's chest is rising and falling in accordance to the almost stifling feeling in the room, and he may or may not be the tiniest bit short of breath...Strange, since he's barely moved an inch. Walking in a straight line to brush against the doorway to the next hall, he pauses, keeping himself from looking into whatever it has in store. "Leon." Tom speaks in a cool, commanding voice, familiarized with getting through to the strange man clinging onto his shoulders. "You better stick with me through this. Can't have you dropping behind anytime soon."

If anyone was peeking through the darkness with enough determination, they might catch a little smile quirk the corner of his mouth. That is, before disaster strikes. The speaker in his ear blows at the scream, sends a ringing through his head like an alarm clock, and immediately sends him straight into action--he slides to the wall, and he immediately focuses on the next hall to the parlor. No sooner does he look up when the black, billowing form slides out of the peeled wallpaper from the very end of the hall, approaching in a rush. Which, of course, he expected. His friend, the eyes to his brawn and legally equipped weaponry, has his perks. Especially when the amount of psychic energy surrounding him. Who knows how much he's heard already...

Upon the re-appearance of Dawa with Cassie, Tom immediately bristles on their entrance. Moving quickly, he steps back on his heel, cocks the gun (full of clear, fast-moving bullets at the moment, filled with a sort of scented smoke to dissipate dark matter) and forces himself not to be distracted as he shoots a couple times, the bullets bursting into the scented smoke rather than ricocheting off the walls. Rather than melting, the form (probably on its way down anyway) flickers further into the building, receding into the floor quicker than the blink of an eye.

Sighing, Tom carefully slides his gun back in his pocket, wiping a hand across his face. "The party's barely started." He mutters, trudging closer to the middle of the room and watching carefully at the monitor, which shows Duncan's progress in the parlor, which had proven itself to be dangerous.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tom Passano Character Portrait: Leon D'Artagnan Character Portrait: Briella Adair Character Portrait: Cassandra Artemis Character Portrait: Monk Dawa Character Portrait: Duncan McAlister
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Dawa gently rubbed Cassie's face with alcohol swabs from his fanny pack. Thankfully, most of the blood was coming off. Once he actually found her wounds, he was pleased to note these were hardly the worst he'd ever seen in his line of work. Each of the three wounded areas had three long scratches. "It's never a good sign when things come in threes," thought Dawa uneasily. Nothing looked deep enough to require stitches, but the ragged lines across her cheek were particularly gnarly.

Distracting Cassie by telling her the plot of The Sixth Sense (another movie he saw recently), Dawa wrapped her upper left arm and her right wrist in heavy padding to keep pressure on the wounds. Anyone looking on would have thought the monk treating Cassie was an entirely new person from the perverted menace they'd met previously.

With a small smile, he reached up and ruffled her hair. "See? That wasn't so bad, was it?" Dawa asked. He carefully smoothed the gauze over her cheek and ran his thumb along the edge of the tape to seal it. Dropping his hand to her shoulder he pulled her closer to him.

"Alright listen, I'm gonna teach you the chant okay? You use this and nothing can get to you." Dawa sincerely hoped Cassie had been too busy to notice the being resisting the chant. He continued, "But you can't go sharing this with anyone. It's a trade secret and I'd be out of a job."

(All the wounds were okayed by Wilpen)

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tom Passano Character Portrait: Leon D'Artagnan Character Portrait: Briella Adair Character Portrait: Cassandra Artemis Character Portrait: Monk Dawa Character Portrait: Duncan McAlister
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Leon pouts at his partner's suggestion of 'holding it,' and having to listen. He shifts slightly on Tom's back, resting his chin on his friend's head and humming a small tune to himself. The spirits were whispering a lot now, and they were saying all sorts of things to each other, to the people who couldn't hear them, and to him. One spirit echoes what Duncan had said—to stay out of the dining room—and, unbeknownst to Leon, it is most definitely reverse psychology. The spirits, having already gotten a feel for Leon's nature, had decided to use it.

But right now, Tom won't let him go anywhere.

It's then that things start to pick up—the young detective hears something through his earpiece, and he has to steady it so it doesn't fall off. He holds the piece closer to his ear, eyes widening slightly. He slips off of Tom's back when the larger goes into action, and he considers running after him, but... the spirits keep speaking to him, guiding him in all different directions. He makes sure to wait a few moments for the excitement to die down, and to make sure that Cassie is definitely okay—he'll be sure to give her two lollipops for her troubles—before he relents to the whispering all around him, and he waltzes off to the dining room. As he walks, he hums to himself, peeling the ear piece from himself and tossing it to the ground—he won't be needing that annoying little thing.

"What's so special about the dining room, anyways? Duncan told me not to go in here alone, and now you're all telling me not to!" Leon shakes his head, stepping into the room and placing his hands on his hips. He puffs out his chest and scans the room through narrowed, nearly closed eyes, the usual smile on his face. He steps over to the table and lifts a candle holder, examining it. A breeze of cold air runs through the hall, and he shivers a bit. "Wah, so cold! Did one of you open a window in here? Close it, pleeeaaase! I don't like being cold, you know! I'll get sick, and getting sick's no good, right?"

He hears the door he entered through close, and he lifts his head, setting the candle holder back on the table. "That's not the window, you silly ghost! That's the door, and the draft's still here." He turns and skips toward the door, humming to himself once more. He skids to a stop in front of it and puts his hand on the knob to turn it, but... it doesn't budge. He tries again, and again, and again, but the door won't open.

Leon cocks his head to the side. "Did you lock me in here? That's mean. Once Tom gets here, he'll be really mad at you!" He fishes his phone out of his coat and scrolls until he sees Tom's name, but the screen goes black. Leon's eyes widen, and he looks up and behind him. The lights go out in the dining room.

"... Hey, that's not funny. This isn't funny anymore. Can you please be a little nicer to me?"

The candle holder that Leon had previously picked up flies towards him, and the boy barely dodges in time—the thing hits the door where he was standing just a few moments ago. If he hadn't moved, then it might have knocked him out... or worse. The room grows colder, and Leon realizes seriously for the first time that coming here alone was not the best idea, and he's probably very outnumbered in here.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tom Passano Character Portrait: Leon D'Artagnan Character Portrait: Briella Adair Character Portrait: Cassandra Artemis Character Portrait: Monk Dawa Character Portrait: Duncan McAlister
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#, as written by WilPen

Cassie had long stopped crying, but her eyes didn't seem to get the memo. Every once in a while a lone tear would stray down her cheek. She hadn't said a word aloud since leaving the parlor room, but her thoughts were buzzing. Images of what she'd seen in the darkness replayed in her mind. Dreadful, terrible things.

Thankfully, Dawa's surprising softness worked wonders to distract her from the ongoing slideshow in her brain. Cassie was probably the only person in the word that hadn't seen the Sixth Sense. To be honest, she'd never felt the need to. She thought her own family was crazy enough to get her fill rather than watch some kid pretend to be psychic. According to how Dawa told it, you didn't have to be a psychic to see that end coming.

By the time the kind monk had finished patching her up, Cassie's arms felt incredibly heavy. She took her time looking over the mounds of padding on her arms. With a tight grimace she met Dawa's eyes, and mumbled a thanks as he ruffled her hair. Now that her cheek had been covered the skin felt incredibly tight. She was surprised the wounds didn't hurt, but Cassie didn't doubt that would come soon enough.

When he pulled her closer, Cassie thought perhaps he'd revert to his old tricks and say something gross. Instead, he kept the surprises going by teaching her his ancient ghost repellent. She could see he was seriously worried about her, but she wasn't sure if that made her feel better or not.

Once she'd managed to satisfy Dawa with her chanting ability, she stood determined to prove to everyone and herself that she wasn't afraid. With a deep breath she took stock of everyone around: Tom's hawkish eyes watching the monitor, Duncan had taken off the way they had come from, Briella being her normal self, and Leon... Where had Leon gone? When had Leon gone? Cassie was a little worried that he was off on his own. Sure he had a lot more experience than she did, but so did Dawa. Look what happened to them.

Cassie set her shoulders back and took a solid step across the salt line Dawa made. As if a dam broke, the gory images the... whatever that was... had shown her were back in full swing. But something was different this time. Her heart beat faster and her breathing hitched, but it wasn't from fear. No, she may have been scared, but boy was she angry.

With a fire in her eyes, she stared into the heart of the house and dared it to try that again.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tom Passano Character Portrait: Leon D'Artagnan Character Portrait: Briella Adair Character Portrait: Cassandra Artemis Character Portrait: Monk Dawa Character Portrait: Duncan McAlister
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#, as written by Dae Mec
Briella stood to follow Duke, but a sudden chill made her stop in her tracks.

̙͚̻̤͕̞̹́ ̵̢̣̺̖̥̣̬̮ ̷̡͓̠̳̞̟̜͘ͅ ̨̢͇̤̘̩̹̹͝y̟̲̖̥̠͙̳͞ḙ̟̼̬̖̳̱̀ͅs̭͕̀͝,̶̷̟̖͓̬̪̫͟ ͟҉̵̖͎̯͖͙̣̭̘y̵̗͡e͎͍͚̘̜͉̖s̵̹̹̲̯͍͍̕ ̡̝̰̞i̷̢̱͔t̷͙̥ ͈̼̖͉́g̶̥͔͝r̢̗̤̖͍̟ͅ ͈̻̼̜̜̺͔͘ ̸̜̫̺̖̘͓̟ͅ


The static from her computer morphed into something that sounded awful lot like a laugh. Hesitantly, Briella glanced at the screen. The sensors flared wildly before settling back to normal. Alright, that was not good. Then, Cassie staggered in, wounded, leaning on Dawa for support. The sight of blood made Briella's eyes widened.

"Good," she said, smiling. She blinked, shook her head, and rushed to the girl's side. "Good God!" exclaimed Briella. "Are you alright?"

She flinched back when Tom shot his patented anti-creepy smoke bullets, but Briella had to admit that the tension in the room had dissipated greatly. She blinked again, finally noticing Duncan had already left to the parlor. As expected. And when Briella looked back at Cassie, she realized that the younger girl had a very familiar expression on her face—it was the same one that Duncan usually got when seeing something nasty. Briella waited for it to pass before making her move.

"You alright?" she asked again. Briella grabbed water bottle #2 and held it out to her. "You look like you've seen a ghost." She cracked a faint smile. "Don't worry. That ghost probably looks worse than you."

The screen flashed once and beeped. She glanced over, noting that Leon's icon was surrounded by a bunch of bright colors. Uh-oh. "Hey, Tom," she called out. "Do you see what I see?" The colors came closer and closer to Leon's position, and Briella pulled up the accompanying video. Feeling rather like a broken record, Briella gritted her teeth and said, "Not good! I think Leon might need support!"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tom Passano Character Portrait: Leon D'Artagnan Character Portrait: Briella Adair Character Portrait: Cassandra Artemis Character Portrait: Monk Dawa Character Portrait: Duncan McAlister
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Standing along in the parlor room, or at least being the only living thing there at the moment, it was as if the rest of the world were shut off from Duncan. As if someone had drawn a curtain behind him and the others, not that far behind him, no longer existed. After learning the name of the spirit to be Elisabeth, his spirit box had gone quiet, and it seemed so had the whole world.

At least, until Tom fired a round off and woke him up.

Shaking his head, Duncan stows the spirit box away before placing a hand in his pocket and wrapping his fingers around the key he'd placed within. The charm hadn't seemed to work for Cassie, maybe it only worked for him, he couldn't be sure, but in either case, as he makes his way back into the main room he slips it from his pocket and, once he reaches her, kneels down long enough to hand the key back.

It is at this moment that Duncan hears a beep from the equipment, and when he looks at Briella, for a moment, she seems cast in shadow. But then the shadow fades, or maybe the alarms going of disrupt his thoughts enough to make him believe that was the case. Walking over to glance at the monitor he grabs the bottle or water and curses under his breath before looking from Briella to the others. He hesitates for a moment before addressing them.

"Looks like Leon wandered off into the dining room...on his own." Duncan says, casting an eye around to make sure everyone else was there with him. Cameras could be fooled more easily than a person. "I don't like the idea of splitting up, but Tom, could you come with me? The rest of you stay her. You can come check on us if you hear screaming...or shooting." The ghost hunter says, glancing at Tom's side arm.

Without waiting for a response Duncan heads down the hall until he finds the room. As a warning to everyone that this was not a place to wander into alone, he had taken a black marker and marked a big X on the wall beside the door. Glancing at it, Duncan can see the black X has been replaced with what looks to be claw marks. Not a good sign. Reaching out he grabs the door handle, but the chill of the metal bites even through his gloves and he curses again as he releases his grip and instead knocks on the door, hard and fast three times. He thinks about trying to break it down on his own, then takes a step back and looks to Tom.

"Think you can get in?" He asks the larger man.

There was another door, on the far side of the dining hall, a servants door that lead to the kitchen, but it would take too long to run across the house. There had been a key to this door once, but it had been lost years ago. Duncan had been lucky to get the key to the front door, let alone a key to anything else in the house.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tom Passano Character Portrait: Leon D'Artagnan Character Portrait: Briella Adair Character Portrait: Cassandra Artemis Character Portrait: Monk Dawa Character Portrait: Duncan McAlister
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Tom relaxes his arm after the spirit is obviously in another area of the house, and breathes out a sigh. He walks into the parlor in a semicircle before he freezes.
The weight was off his back.

He doesn't need to wait for anyone to say anything. Head turning to the monitor sharply in time with Cassie's warning, his body stiffens-- he can't waste any time worrying about what's happened. It's like the place sucked Leon in; though, Tom's familiar enough with him to know that he loves to wander around in zones that he's definitely not supposed to go. His jaw clenches and he glances to Duncan with an obvious resolve of what he wants to do, exuding tension at losing track of his partner.

"I'm on it." He says, his voice a little rougher than usual-- it's not that he's upset. It just feels odd to be away from the other person. He does have a limited amount of trust in Leon's own actions, but he also knows he can't defend himself for long, especially against any of the challenging opponents that lie within the foundation of the house. He flanks Duncan as they set off, saying nothing as they travel; he's probably too immersed in his resolve to communicate adequately yet. Not that he's a chatty person in general.

Admittedly, if Duncan hadn't suggested they go after him soon enough, Tom probably would've trailed Leon wordlessly without waiting for a command.

His eyes move across the marks. They remind Tom vaguely of a wolverine or a puma, but it's unlikely that any animal would want to climb into the window of this place. Besides...He tightens his glove for a moment and uses his dominant hand to trace his fingers across the ragged wood, acutely noticing that the marks are about the size of what a human could make. 5 scores on each side. His eyes narrow, and he rolls his shoulders as if he's shaking something off. He grunts softly, lifting a wrist to his mouth. "Air's different over here, too." He murmurs. "Can't be a good sign."

At Duncan's request, he nods. His stance changes, his elbow and weight shifts forward, and he slams himself into the door, swiftly disarming the rusted hinges and kicking it down after he dislodges the wood enough for it to loosen. Unfazed by this feat, he brushes off the splinters on his jacket and advances-- he keeps his gun readied, arm folded to his chest to allow ease of movement through any small areas. As if they had opened the door to a refrigerator, the whole place oozes with a frigid draft.

Immediately after Tom enters, a chair flies across the room-- there's a strange hissing noise, like the sound water makes through the taps, rattling and distorting to the point where it's more than obvious it's a lot more sinister than that. Tom, abruptly sliding across the room to catch the leg of the chair and throw the item against the ground (whilst apologizing in his head to whoever took pride in the things he's smashed in the last couple minutes) is most likely face-to-face with whatever had the bright idea to throw it at him. He goes very still, but not out of fear. He's waiting for the dark form in the corner to make a move, or perhaps it's there for another reason-- it's vaguely visible as a person, crouching on the ground. Its face is difficult to make out.

"Pretty sure it's the one who made those scores on the door," He notes in a low, calm voice. Whoever, or whatever is in front of Tom has begun to make a series of soft, almost mesmerizing noises, incomprehensive to the human ear. Well...Most ears. "Leon," Tom remarks, knowing the other is in the room with them. "Translate."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tom Passano Character Portrait: Leon D'Artagnan Character Portrait: Briella Adair Character Portrait: Cassandra Artemis Character Portrait: Monk Dawa Character Portrait: Duncan McAlister
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Dawa was still concerned for Cassie as she walked out of the circle. Though with everyone else around, he figured she'd be okay. Plus Briella seemed to be the one to take care of her now. Speaking of Briella, something seemed to be off with her. Dawa felt something distinctly evil whenever her was near her. It didn't necessarily seem like it was coming FROM her, but whatever it was seemed to be attached to her in some way. Her behavior didn't seem to mirror any of the human possessions he'd seen in the past, so he chalked it up to the house and decided to keep a closer eye on her as well.

With that in mind, he held back in the living room with the ladies. He stood much closer to the doorway than he intended. It was as if the room was calling to him or drawing him in. Hearing whispers in the background, Dawa felt a chill down his spine. If he was hearing it, something in that room didn't have the purest intentions.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tom Passano Character Portrait: Leon D'Artagnan Character Portrait: Briella Adair Character Portrait: Cassandra Artemis Character Portrait: Monk Dawa Character Portrait: Duncan McAlister
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Leon had bolted under the table the moment things started flying. The spirits have not touched him yet, though he figures it's only a matter of time. In all of Leon's experiences, he has never experienced spirits so malevolent, so aggressive with the intent to kill. He figures this must be it—that whatever spirit (or spirits, from the sound of it) are tormenting him will be the end of him. He sees and hears a plate shatter a few inches in front of him, and he jumps, hitting his head on the top of the table.

You shouldn't have come. You shouldn't have come. You shouldn't have come. Youshouldn'thavecomeyoushouldn'thavecomeyou—

Hadn't they told him to? Or did they mean the place itself? Leon fiddles with his pockets—he has to have salt packets somewhere. He doesn't care much for salty tastes, as he prefers the sweet, but he's always pocketed the packets since, in his line of work, it might come in handy. He fishes one out and tears the packet open, ready to toss it on whatever spirits were tormenting him when he hears the door come down—and familiar voices follow it. He feels warmth in the previously chilling air—perhaps not literally, but rather because his comrades came to save him.

The younger detective peeks his head out from under the table when Tom calls out to him, eyes uncharacteristically wide, and looking very hopeful. He came to save him. He notices then that... the spirit was so close to his companion, it seems, and it was speaking to him. To Tom. The fox faced detective crawls out from under the table and slowly raises himself from the ground.

You destroyed it. You ruined it.

"I think... it doesn't like that you broke the door! 'You destroyed it. You ruined it.' That's all I can imagine that it means." Leon taps the salt packet and holds it out in front of him, making a salt line on the floor. He keeps two for himself, but the rest of the handful he tosses over to Tom, over the whatever malevolent spirit is between them. He frowns. "Seems kinda hypocritical to me, since they broke all these plates and that nice candle-thingy. You'd think they'd be happy about you breaking the door, huh, Tom?" He looks over to Duncan and nods in greeting, tearing more salt packets and pouring them onto the ground. This should protect the younger for now, as he has no desire to getting closer to that anytime soon. He'd have Tom do the rest of the work, and knowing how the two of them operate, he wouldn't have to say much for the other to catch on.

"Hey, Duncan, how's it look in here? I mean, on the beepy-thing. It probably tipped you off that I was getting into trouble in here, right? Right? That was pretty dumb of me! Thanks for coming to save me, though. Got anymore holy water left?" Leon's rambling is different than usual. It isn't in his usual light-hearted tone—he's terrified. He doesn't let his question hang in the air for much longer before he squeaks out, desperately—

"Please get me outta here!"

Something else comes hurdling toward Leon, and he ducks. So much for the salt square, he thinks, but even that was only a matter of protecting him from physical attacks from the spirits themselves. When he raises himself again, he rips open another salt packet—the last one that he kept before throwing the rest to Tom—and tosses it onto the spirit closest to him. He hears some sort of sizzling noise, and then shrieking too loud for his ears (though it may sound normal to his companions on the other side of the most tangible spirit in the room). Well that's one down—but just how many more are in here?

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tom Passano Character Portrait: Leon D'Artagnan Character Portrait: Briella Adair Character Portrait: Cassandra Artemis Character Portrait: Monk Dawa Character Portrait: Duncan McAlister
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#, as written by WilPen
Cassie looked up at Briella and took the water she offered. Despite the anger that seemed to pulse in Cassie's veins she managed to crack a smile at her jokes. Once again, she was thankful that someone like Bri was around to make sure everyone was okay.

"I'm okay. Thank you," Cassie said as she patted Briella's shoulder. With a short laugh she added, "And yeah, I totally kicked that ghost's butt." Her statement was punctuated by a shiver. Since her interaction with the spirit, the young girl had been feeling a coldness setting over her. She just couldn't get warm.

A crash in the dining room stole Cassie's attention. Her heart froze as she realized Leon was in there. She grabbed onto Briella's arm again and asked, "What do you think we should do?" The men of the group seemed to be trying to get into the room and she didn't want to get in the way. "Is there another way in?"


Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tom Passano Character Portrait: Leon D'Artagnan Character Portrait: Briella Adair Character Portrait: Cassandra Artemis Character Portrait: Monk Dawa Character Portrait: Duncan McAlister
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Duncan hesitates a moment before following Tom into the room. As soon as the door was knocked down, a wave of cold hits him, chilling his bones. Reluctantly, Duncan slips the gloves from his hands and slips them into his pocket. Holding the bottle of holy-drinking water in one hand he takes the cap off and throws it behind him before bringing out the small wooden bear and clutching it in his left hand. The sounds and smells of Ireland flood his mind for a moment when he touches it, calming and centering his mind.

Rushing into the room just as Leon actually asks for help, the ghost hunter raises up the bottle and begins to sling it around above his head, letting it splash out all around him. When some of the water hits one of the spirits, which have taken the form of shadow people now and have started to converge from the dark corners of the room towards the three men, a scream can be heard as the water turns to mist and the spirit dissipates. The water would only force the dark spirits to rest once more, it could only drive a demon away because they are pure negative energy.

"Begone spirits! Don't make me start quoting passages, I have a horrible memory!" Duncan yells. Holy words, no matter what religion they came from, could force a spirit back, even harm them, if spoken with enough conviction. Duncan was not a holy man, but he had tried to let that go an memorize a few of the more powerful passages from the bible, but he hadn't retained them well. Suddenly a plate is flung from across the room. It his his wrist and shatters, but in that second of contact he gets a flash of memory and goes pale. The room suddenly gets even colder, and the stench of rotting meat fills the air. "Jakob..." Duncan mouths, the name spoken at barely a whisper.

You are not very gracious guests. Says a dark figure standing at the head of the table, at the far side of the room from where the other stand. My master greeted you with opens arms, but you have denied him. He is displeased, and that makes me very angry...

Every plate, cup, knife, and fork in the room rises up into the air and begins to whirl about, as if a sudden twister had kicked up. Then, knives begin to sing through the air, aiming for the three men. One of them embeds itself in the wall inches beside Tom's head a good inch deep. Plates to flying next, crashing into the walls and chairs. A saucer catches Duncan in the forehead and knocks him to the ground, causing him to black out for a moment. In that instant he can see, really see, the house for what it is. The walls are really flesh, the wooden support beams are bones, and in the basement lies the dark heart of the beast that is the house. Opening his eyes he gasps.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tom Passano Character Portrait: Leon D'Artagnan Character Portrait: Briella Adair Character Portrait: Cassandra Artemis Character Portrait: Monk Dawa Character Portrait: Duncan McAlister
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Tom listened to Leon. He focused on the sound of his voice, since it was the only thing that was keeping him from listening too hard to that noise the thing was making. It's not that he could understand it; why would've he asked Leon about it in the first place, if that was the case? No. But it felt like something to him. It resonated in his bones, as if it was trying to get in him somehow-- the same cold air he inhaled was inside of him, through the voice of the wraith. Tom never lets his guard down, nor does he loosen his stance, but he's frozen in place. His hazel eyes are dulled-- he's struggling not to show that he's working on not giving into the feeling of losing control that the creature in front of him is just begging him to accept. The worst part?

It feels calm. Gentle. Sort of like falling asleep in a snowstorm, Tom thinks. The gist of it? Don't you dare fall asleep.

He shoots upright, just missing the knife that flies past his head dangerously, and catches the salt packet in midair. Gaze still fixed to the middle figure, Tom tears the packet open with his teeth, spraying the contents at the demon. The objects in the room seem to rotate a little faster and falter erratically, and the humanoid body of the one he had a standoff with earlier in the corner suddenly wildly distorts. Tom grits his teeth. "Too late for me to apologize about that." He grunts, the bridge of his nose creasing. "This place is far past any renovations. Right, Duncan?" Without a reply, he turns and views the unconscious body of the leader of their party and arches an eyebrow. "This got interesting real fast." He murmurs, pulling out his gun and shooting rounds at the morphing figure. As he shoots, he swiftly ducks to Leon, latching on tightly to his arm and shoving him behind him, stepping right in front of Duncan, as he understands he's too occupied with something else to focus too hard on the task at hand. They...must have done something to him. But what?

All at once, the form slowly takes shape again, rising up. Tom slides his foot back--the same mist it's made of begins to billow across the floor. It doesn't feel like much. It's just cold; sort of like the tingling sensation from dry ice. Tom holds his head for a moment, unable to keep himself from reacting from a couple flashes of imagery in his head. It's...bones? Flesh? Sort of like what you would see through a surgical camera. Some sort of a message, since Tom doesn't usually have these sorts of visions...His eyes dart to Duncan in surprise, noticing the shocked expression on the man's face as he woke up. Did they see the same thing? Tom quickly hoists him up as well. "We can't stay here any longer." He warns the two of them, before--

Tom turns around, and the figure from before is standing right in front of him.

He stares into its eyes-- if you could call them that-- and is once again unable to move. Until it grabs his wrist. Pain shoots up his arm instantly; there's a reason why nobody should touch those things, after all. It's almost as if it's eating away at his flesh; Tom's got a high pain tolerance, but he can't stifle a gasp of agony.

Before the creature can open its mouth, brimming in another eerie scream, Tom steps forward, the room vibrating with...a different type of intensity. The creature seems to falter, and its usual form starts to glow with a strange outline of light. It doesn't seem to be aware that it's happening. The arm that was burnt by the creature forces itself back, and Tom forms his hand into a fist. "You thought the door was bad?" He hears himself bark directly into its face. "You better watch your back!" In an instant, Tom's hand moves to the front, flattening into a shield-like stance-- and the mist, including the wraith, is forced back in a beam of psychic energy. It's as if he repelled it. Whether it was with his voice, or his body, every type of noise in the room is suddenly sucked away with the single pulse of the force from Tom's action, and they're left with a normal silence, plates clattering and breaking on the floor.

Tom slumps, rolls his neck awkwardly, and heads out through the doorway without turning around. His arm is bleeding through his dress shirt. He's very quiet.