SPOOKY SCARY SKELETONS // o, attack via ghost

[tristitia]

[align=center]

Ghosts were an often seen sight within the Realm. The odd magical properties of the lands made spirits who did not belong there... well, it made them stay. Perhaps because it was their only home, and they did not want to be anywhere else. And at first, the ghost that Runicflare saw-- well, she swore, that it was her mother. Dearest mother, who once lead the group. Runicflare was so, so lost with leading the group. Her mixmatched gaze widened, taking the wolfish, white and smoky form of her mother. She could help, right? That why Mother was here! To help, to help. Because she knew Runicflare couldn't handle this job alone. A relieved look swept across the direwolf's features, her gaze softening, her body releasing some tension. She howls a tad, a bit happy. "Mother!" She calls, wagging her tail behind her and barking, as if she were a mere pup.

The ghost turns back to her, its eyes narrowed. Runicflare stumbles back. This wasn't her mother! No, it looked way too mean. The young wolf's eyes widened once more, and her ears flattened as it cackled. The form of the ghost moves quickly towards the frozen wolf, smirking, and making joyous remarks that ring in the Ancient's ears. "Ah, uh... twi..." Is the most the frightened teenager is able to get out, staring at the vengeful spirit that loomed in front of you. "Just... w-who... tw-twi... are you?" She visibly gulps as the smoky form smirks. "Why, you blasphemous mage, witch-- Pagan, I am a spirit of those who cast you and the rest of your hateful kind into this forest." It growls, its face turning angry, with eyes narrowed, an aggressive stance. The voice of the spirit holds rage, holds fury. "And you should've never tried to communicate with the outside world. We're better off without your kind!" The spirit leaps before Runicflare could get a word out, tackling her to the ground, against the edge of a tree.

More and more spirits appeared from the shadows, from the darkness the wolf called home, smoky spirits of all kinds. She heard their words echo and ring out, and it felt like the whole world could hear them. How many were there? Twenty? Thirty? "Never should have left-- never should have left. You are unholy, you deserve banishment. We'll teach that lesson to you again. We'll teach that lesson to you again." And now, she was outnumbered as the spirits ganged up on her, biting, trying to trample her, clawing -- yet, they all left no marks. They simply left the pain. She scrambles, trying to get them off of her, but with so many, it was no use. She needed back up.  Despite her yelping, the pain that burns and sears through her body, she manages to call out, "Help me, please!"

//Hey guys!! So what's happened is that a bunch of spirits that hated the mages have come out of Tanglewood's crater, and there are some that are also harmless or some that want to help, but we're kicking off the October event!

[align=center]

TAGS AND INFO // UPDATED 9/14

[align=center]

[ghostpact]

Sleep was hard to come by for Moonshadow lately, he hid away the fact that everything's left him on edge, but it was the exact reason for his troubles then. He'd only wanted to lay down for a nap, but a far off voice caught by his heightened senses jolted him. Ears sharp, he raised his head quickly, listening very carefully to hear it again. He could've sworn it had been his sister. It must've been someone else or even worse, a misheard word due to his lack of sleep. He huffed and dropped his head, flicking his tail over his nose.

Still, that left him even less at ease than before. He shifted in the spot on his treehouse floor, growling lowly to himself and the thoughts that ran through his head. A moment or so later, he pushed himself up and began to very slowly pace, hoping to walk himself to sleep. Because he still trained his ears to listen for anything further off than what was normal, he picked up a lot on the tiny creatures of the forests.

He jolted again, stopping his pacing when he heard yelping. He attempted to narrow his senses to its origin, but it didn't matter when a moment later, his sister's clear call for help cut through. Without much thought, acting fast, he spun and burst through the door of his treehouse. He could not be bothered with a normal exit today. Running along one of the many bridges, he made a running leap for the tree wall. His paws caught easily and he scaled the rest of the way with ease, carefully but quickly maneuvering through the branches and leaves at the top before making his way down on the other side, outside of camp now.

As fast as he could, he ran toward the call for help, leaping from tree root to tree root. Drawing nearer, his eyes quickly scanned the scene as he tried to assess the damage and the forces. There were spirits in too much of a large number for him to count quickly, and his sister pinned against a tree was the center of their malicious attention. One of his many knives appeared in the air and he grabbed the handle quickly, snarling loudly.

He attempted to barrel through the ghostly crowd without a word, intending on getting to his little sister as quickly as possible. Whether they were doing any real damage wasn't something he knew yet, but the pain felt was still all the same and he would put a stop to them. Unsure, he also tried to swing his blade toward a spirit, not exactly thinking about whether or not that affected them.

tags