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Post by Kodaka on Feb 16, 2023 22:21:53 GMT -6
Much of the northern lands just outside the city have been cultivated for crops that grow almost year round thanks to the warmer climate. Because of the river to the south, the land is fertile and great for growing a variety of fruits and vegetables, from wheat fields to grape vineyards. Somewhere along the main road that cuts the farmlands in two is the Hawthorne Mansion, or at least what is left of it. Isolated as it was, most folk are too superstitious to get too close to the ruins on the belief that the family’s curse still lingers on the remnants of the property. |
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Post by Kodaka on Feb 26, 2023 10:32:57 GMT -6
The following takes place in present time, one year after the events of ReIgnition…
Jakob peered down at his ale as he sat leaning on his folded arms upon a gnarled bar top. The amber liquid bore a bubbling, minuscule reflection of his visage that stared back at him. The glamor magic he cast on himself might’ve fooled the other patrons of this roadside, shoddy tavern, but he was not the man he was when he first joined Eidolon Company and their side project. During his time working for them, he had become a full-fledged soul sorcerer despite the dangers and his better nature. The only thing that mattered to him at the time was the money and learning ancient and powerful magicks. Best part of all that was that he didn’t even need to risk much of his own soul, as Eidolon fed him a steady supply. Avarus the shade taught him that he would need a strong will to force the souls on his person to submit, least these tempered souls consume his own soul with all their rage and desperation to be free.
“Tempered” souls, Jakob learned, needed to be kept in a special stasis in magicked containers like flasks or jars. The reason for this, Avarus explained during one of their experiments months ago, being that tempered souls were the most recently of parted from their hosts and thus still contained the spirit. “The spirit is the part of the soul that contains the host’s personality and memories,” Jakob’s shade mentor told him. “After the body dies, sometimes the spirit manifests itself into what you and I call a ghost. Ghosts are, simply put, the souls of the deceased still clinging to existence beyond flesh and bone.”
Tempered souls harvested against the owner’s will are especially aggressive against being a source of magic, knowing full well they could be snuffed out entirely. Anyone could guess that most of the souls under Eidolon’s possession were not donated kindly, so Jakob was smart to assume he’d need to keep each soul he used under stasis, a surprisingly simple feat only needing an incantation and shatterproof container.
“We’ve had several cases where a tempered soul would react so aggressively against the soul mage,” Avarus told Jakob one day after finishing up a round of experiments, “that it would go berserk, subdue the mage, and devour their soul, completely taking them over and often taking their own lives. We… lost a number of trainees that way…” Jakob remembered as the shade shook his head and looked past him, as if reminiscent of such horrible scenes. “Luckily, we’ve learned how to contain the aggressive ones, and soon you and I will find a way to remove the spirit from the soul entirely!” Only a few experiments and field tests later, they would indeed find a way to make untempered souls and remove the spirit from the equation entirely. They process however long and taxing. It seemed Avarus’s artificial soul project was more likely than even Avarus thought.
Jakob soon realized however, with every soul he spent, he lost a small semblance of himself. It was as though each soul, tempered or not, further degraded his psyche. When he brought that up with Avarus, the shade eyed him with an unreadable look in his glowing golden eyes. Jakob was dismayed to learn that out of all of Eidolon’s soul sorcerers, he had lasted the longest during their experimentations. All of what Jakob was experiencing was new territory for them both. One thing Avarus and Jakob could discern however was that it was his soul that still resided within him, he wasn’t turning Faint just yet. he still had work to do.
Daniel Hawthorne was alive and Eidolon knew he would try to throw a wrench in their plans somehow. Why else would the boy steal pyromancy tomes and artifacts from his family’s archive, especially with the help of hired muscle from that Nephilim brute and a dragon to boot? The Hawthorne boy wanted revenge and Jakob couldn’t fault him for that. The sorcerer didn’t know his father, William Hawthorne, very well as Jakob only began work for Eidolon shortly before their shift in business that led to the man’s death. Jakob knew well enough about what happened to the Hawthornes and understood why William had to die, but the rest of the family seemed like collateral to Jakob. Maybe a short time ago he would’ve questioned Eidolon’s methods, but he slowly stopped caring enough to have a moral compass.
Movement off to the side of his peripheral vision reminded Jakob he was still in a public space. The Farmhand's Roost was empty enough this time of day, so any newcomer would've been disturbance enough to draw his attention. The sorcerer inclined his head just enough to glance at his side at the hooded figure now sitting a stool away from him at the bar. From what he could tell from his brief once-over, the figure was tall and slender, a woman probably. Jakob returned his gaze to his drink and took a short swig. Whoever his informant was, the sole reason he was even patronizing this dump, they hadn’t made themselves known yet. If they were here at all. The sorcerer listened to the idle chatter as the portly bartender bobbed over to the newcomer and took her order. She ordered an ale, same as his own, and Jakob raised his brow and looked her way when the barkeeper left to fetch it. Was she eyeing him up while he wasn't looking?
While The woman didn’t meet his gaze since her hood hid the side of her face, one thing the veil of fabric could not perfectly conceal were the curious two large lumps on her head, one on each side. Jakob was about to decipher what those lumps were but the bartender had returned with her ale and the sorcerer looked away when he realized he was looking a little too long. The barkeep placed her drink down in front of the woman and lingered a second, his rosey face full of awe until another patron flagged him down from the other side and he excused himself. A quiet moment passed by and Jakob continued the task of nursing his drink. Then, the woman beside him spoke.
“Jakob Geist,” her voice laden with a strong Northern accent, it startled Jakob almost out of his wits to hear his name spoken out of the blue, especially since ‘Geist’ was only a recent addition. Once again the man looked in the woman’s direction, this time to meet piercing blue eyes and the tip of an elegantly curved horn peeking from the hood. The woman turned her head to cast him with a stern look, raven black locks of hair framed her snow-white face. She had a strong-looking jawline with subtle feminine curves, but it was her eyes he was most taken aback by.
“What?” Was all Jakob could muster as a response. The hooded woman looked away and took a full draught of her ale, downing half the flagon in just three sips. A slightly disgusted look on her face, she replaced it onto the bar in front of her and set her shrewd gaze on him again.
“Your quarry’s at Castle Moonlight,” she looked down as she rummaged through a small bag tied to her waist and placed a small pile of gold pieces onto the bartop. “You'll find the place just fine, but good luck gettin’ to him. You‘ll need it.” Her message being delivered, Jakob’s informant stood up from her stool and Jakob got his first real good look at her. She definitely wasn’t human, it didn't take a genuis to gather that much. she looked quite familiar though, she bore a considerably similar appearance of an old acquaintance. Then when he remembered who the Hawthorne boy was with, the realization hit him. This Castle Moonlight however was a place he’d never heard of before.
“You sure? And... why are you helping me?” Jakob asked with a frown. If this woman was who he thought she was, why would he have any reason to trust her? Then again, his list of trustworthy people was growing shorter by the day. The woman harrumphed and turned so her back was to the bar, but Jakob could still discern at least part of her face. Not meeting his gaze, she took a single step toward the door and paused.
“My reasons are my own. Besides, my brother isn't a hard man to track down...” Without waiting for a reply, the woman continued on out the door, her footsteps silent upon the wooden floorplanks. Geist watched her leave and simply shrugged to himself when the door quietly snapped shut behind her. He still had half an ale to finish, his work could wait just a little while longer.
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