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The Harrowing

Discussion in 'Pandora, Year 1 - 7' started by Yorick Mori, Oct 6, 2017.

  1. Yorick Mori

    Yorick Mori Guest

    October 31st, Cemetery

    Yorick had been in Pandora for the best part of a year now, and in some ways it showed. His voice was no longer hoarse from disuse, a clear sign that he'd interacted with more Living souls in his short time here than in the last few decades upon the Isle. Yet despite this, he knew that he had much more to learn about this land. Apparently there was a holiday here that celebrated the Dead. At first he was elated. Perhaps more people would see his cause and cast down Necromancy wherever it reared it's head. But it was not to be. There was little respect in this 'Halloween', it was rather an excuse to let oneself go, and worse, it seemed to celebrate not the dead, but a similar event to the Harrowing. That had amused the Mists, they did so like to see things he found distasteful. The fact that they were celebrated only added to their amalgamated delight...

    And now, the day had come. He had closed the gates to the Graveyard early today, expecting the masses to visit. He knew not what they would do whilst under the influence of this Holiday, especially with the Mists clinging to the place like a shroud. No doubt this would be seen as the perfect conditions for a 'scare'. There was more at stake than these people knew. Let them come. Came the whisper, as he knew it would. If they wish to join your flock, let them! You would not stop us if they were foes... why stop us when they go willingly... Yorick simply shook his head, saying aloud to them "No one should share your fate, willing or not." Before mentally pushing them away. They would not be denied. Not Tonight. Instead, they simply shifted, weighing heavily around the outer edge of the graveyard. The Monk Dearly hoped no-one would engage in their Holiday's damnable rituals here...
    Alarak likes this.
  2. Gully

    Gully Guest

    It is said that on All Hallow’s Eve, the veil between this world and the next grows thinner; that the spirits of those who have passed can find it a little easier to gain purchase upon this world. There is certainly truth to the notion that the dark and supernatural waxes strong in this season of death, as the plenty of summer gives way to slow decline before the bitterness of winter’s chill could truly settle in.

    There is none of that in Gully’s head as she trudges up the hill towards the cemetery, however. There’s just a stalwart determination to see this grizzly task through. It is, perhaps, disconcerting to see such a young face set in so grim an expression, but even as the night closes in, and the world is wreathed in clinging mist, there is not a hint of fear, nor of childlike wonder, on her features.

    Part of it is just bad timing. Gully has no knowledge whatsoever of Halloween or what it might entail. Most of it, though, is that this place, these tasks… they make her uneasy. She’s asking questions, and deep down, she doesn’t want to know what the answer might be, not in this case.

    ~It’s okay.~ She thinks to herself. ~I won’t find anything, because they aren’t here. It’ll be fine. I’m just being careful. That’s what Nanny would have wanted.

    One oversized glove reaches out to grasp the gate and pull… and she meets more resistance than she would have expected. Immediately, she stopped; a thick chain and padlock rattling. Her eyes narrowed at the binding around it.

    “Really?!” She asked the world, as though this were a personal insult; a punishment for some unknown slight.

    It was only then, as she found herself stymied by a simple lock, that she realised there was, something, in the air tonight. Slowly, the girl turned, looking around at the rising mists, the foreboding settling into her soul.

    “… This place is really creepy, even for a graveyard …”
  3. Yorick Mori

    Yorick Mori Guest

    A rattling... The Monk stopped his rounds for a moment, listening. That was not the wind, he was sure of it. The Mists seemed to be gathering towards the front gate of the Graveyard. The Monk sighed, a foreboding feeling rising within him. The young people of this world were known for... misplaced persistence in these areas. He did not doubt that they would attempt to enter the Graveyard if he did not ward them away, and so he hefted his shovel and began working his way toward the gates.

    It did not take the monk long to reach the entrance. Upon his approach, the Mists parted, a backhanded gesture, mocking his control over them. Still, it allowed him to see the one who was disturbing them. A Young, blond haired girl. Halting just past the gates, he planted his shovel and stared grimly at the would-be intruder for a moment, before stating flatly "Leave this place, young one. This is not the night for engaging in 'Halloween rituals.' Seek your thrills elsewhere." He did not expect his words to work. They never did. He considered allowing the Mists a tiny bit of leeway, hopefully scaring them away, but decided against it for now. The Mists would see this as weakness...