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Post by Zriracha on Jun 10, 2020 2:22:20 GMT -6
It was time to do a little research!
Deep within the advanced Northern City – where’d regrettably come into contact with the defective ‘Dressing Machine’ – Zriracha was quickly gaining knowledge about what she was going to do with the data collected from the strange energy deposits. She’d had not technology to speak of that most mortals utilized but a few contraptions straight from the world of magic did the job well enough! If she could use these energies collected from the residual energies where the dead resided – then the spell she’d studies could become complete.
But there was still so much to understand, and spells used on mortals had great prices to pay when mistakes were made. To subvert most of those potential backlash, one had to study the source material very closely.
And so that brought Zriracha to a recent facility of magic. The only one in existence. Surely, it had to be with a sign on the front that read ‘Existence of Magic’ on the side.
Walking inside the small establishment, Zriracha was immediately hit with suspicion. Firstly, the walls were lines with items of all sort of arcane memorabilia. Second, the Humans inside stared at her strangely, though she surmised that was because she was a very tall Satyr Demon and lastly… There weren’t any actual facilities.
A Human passed her by, “Great costume,” They whispered to her, earning a look of confusion as she watched them go. Looking back, she merely shrugged and continue inside to look for any supernatural relics of use.
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Post by Kalaboo on Jun 17, 2020 5:51:46 GMT -6
In life Kalabas had dismissed magic and its practitioners as liars, charlatans, and worse. In death, that hatred burned only half as bright. Magic was real, yet the rules imposed by itself were arbitrary and fickle to the point that attempting to establish any base of knowledge would require an as arbitrary and fickle approach. How then could Kalabas develop his more supernatural abilities without careening to the summons of yet another spellslinger - or, ancestors forbid, whittle down to the form of a lesser spirit? Same as one did when trying to take in the sheer breadth of the sciences, one discipline at a time! Ectomancy! Necyomancy! Rhapsodomancy! Such serendipitous supernatural subjects sublimated the slain souls!
And so ahead he marched quite valiantly into an establishment touting such reassuring signs as ‘Existence of Magic’. Was this a front for some crime syndicate, a bonafide coven of mafia witches? So assured was the ghost in his capabilities that, should it be the case that one of these slack-jawed earthlings had a plan to capture or make use of him, not just this store but all of North City would be turned into smithereens! Or, perhaps, just the store... Had death made him soft he wondered to himself, or just lazy? Neither, but he had become much more perceptive: inside the store not all of these befuddled morons were staring at him, there were some that much prefered to ogle... Chamil? He nearly jumped into a battle stance, but reason triumphed and made him still
The ghost chided himself, as the resemblance this demon had to the defunct Stargoon did not go beyond some shared caprine traits. And yet there was enough to this one's mien for him to be... not suspicious, but curious. In a very careful way. What's more, wasn't demon magic related to ghost magic? And in the dealings between them, the deceased were the ones who most often stood to gain, right?
'Can you read?' scribbled the ghost down in one sweeping gesture, in one bound closing the great distance between them 'In any case, I have some questions that need addressing.' He offered the scrap of paper - it was his, and not ripped from one of the scrolls on the wall - for Zriracha to sully with her unholy wicked demon eyes.
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Post by Zriracha on Jun 18, 2020 14:33:12 GMT -6
From inside the shop, Zriracha had busied herself with quite an array of spicy-scented incense sticks – pulling out a few to sniff and gently lick – when the door had opened with a chime for a new customer. She’d turned to gaze casually out of curiosity before she gave a sudden pause at the very ephemeral figure before her. Apparently, by the sudden stance… she’s surprised them too. Perhaps walking around in this form was not the wisest course of action, She realized with a wary expression on her face. As he approached her and, with a piece of paper, asked if she could read – followed by making it clear he had questions, the Satyr would raise a short eyebrow at that. She looked to him with only her eyes, her face still positioned at the paper before she handed it back to him. “I am well equipped to read most standard forms of language to a higher than standard literacy, yes,” Her tone was deep and drawn, but she made certain to keep it even. Briefly, glanced at the customers that were around them and noticed the odd looks they had now both received. Some had even thought to take out their cellular devices… How uncouth, She thought lamely before a low rumble in her throat would be followed with her looking back at the apparition. “To the back,” She would suggest, though it sounded more like a direction, before clip-clopping her way towards the less populated back of the store where apparently large glass vases and statues resided. She turned to the ghost and cocked her head to the side, arms crossed, “What can I help you with, Mor-" She paused, re-examining his status as a - yes, quite mortal - ghost, "-… Apparition?” In her hand, she'd still possessed the incense sticks she'd had before - rolling it between her fingers whilst it was held above her folded arms.
Kalaboo |
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Post by Kalaboo on Jun 20, 2020 10:50:38 GMT -6
The demon could read. How convenient yet unsurprising. After all, when your trade involves bribing, threatening and blackmailing the living it pays to dabble in their tongues. Would Kalabas' deadness act as a shield or make him all the more vulnerable to whatever contract came from this? Should one even come up, of course - it could turn out that the Duke was wasting metaphorical breath on a complete and utter nutter. Not that her decision to abscond to the far corner of the store gave him that impression. As much as he longed for fame and glory, he wouldn't find any by being caught on tape like some sort of... entertainment monkey. He would make sure to appear as a fading blur to the cameras, an old and still quite effective trick of his people. To direct onlookers, however, there was no discernable change. Apparition, was what he was called as he picked up a charmingly useless glass vase. He supposed he didn't mind being called one. It was perhaps a touch too vague, like calling a vulture a bird, but better than being likened to a wisp or a cockerel... Was the incense stick tumbling up and down her fingers a sign of a former smoker? She had licked it, after all. Could demons even smoke? Perhaps it even did them good. More confusing yet, what could be inferred from the vase spinning at the very tip of the ghost's finger? Was he a showman or a nervous wreck? He guessed he liked to leave people guessing. He couldn't possibly be so mad as to leave things to chance. Kalabas let go of the vase, which began orbiting his head along with some other baubles. The floating ring spun as slowly as he wrote quickly, this time on a blank A4 sheet. The quill - as dear and useful to him as his mouth had been - swung and whipped so madly it was as if it had never been plucked from the avalerion. There! No sooner had he punctuated the last sentence the paper was given to - or rather, crammed against - Zriracha. In it, written in very fine calligraphy, was written: My name is Kalabas Strongbone, Duke of Strongbone, and would you be so kind so as to
damn my mortal soul? You see, I find myself at the call and beckon of another of your
infernal ilk. I care not for her, or the employ she has seen fit to waste my eternity on.
Rather, it would better serve my sense of self to instead attend to my affairs with the
living as I please, rather than have my karmic balance meddled with into aught that is...
unbecoming of me. As a demon, this must strike you as the sort of deal you could take
advantage of, no? It would take effort to keep me outwitted, but perhaps you even
relish in the sport of double-crossing compeers. And so I wonder, if you were to
constrict my soul with some rules, of any number and degree, which would they be?
It is unnecessary, I know, but I must urge you to answer truthfully. I have ways.
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Post by Zriracha on Jun 20, 2020 18:51:55 GMT -6
She honestly didn’t know what to make of the grand display of what she could only surmise was a form of Telekinesis. Was it a trait he held in life or perhaps something developed after being long dead? She was unaware of his past, present or future as he wrote upon a blank sheet of paper that she’d not seen him have before and grasped it as he shoved it against her. His mannerisms left much to be desired, but she would not argue for the sake of the various knick-knacks he balanced with grace. Her red eyes scanned the sheet, blinking at the quality of calligraphy that he’d written not only by hand but with all the precise grace of having done it quickly. She didn’t know what a Printer was, but if she did, she’d believe he was far superior to it’s ability to print. She took in the most impertinent information. His name, Kalabas. His status as a Duke. And his request which was… unconventional. She re-read that part a few times before pulling it away from her face and giving it a solid few blinks. “You desire me to-” She looked up at him, only one eyebrow cocked curiously, “-overwrite another’s supernatural hold on your Soul?... Because you do not wish to be compelled to their bidding?” She let that question hang in the air, requiring only a shake of the head or a nod, but (because she got the feeling he was a talkative fellow) handed the paper back to him so he could compose a proper response. As he did so, she thought about what conditions she might impose if she truly were to assist him. I don’t have any desire to keep on bound to me. ‘Double-crossing’ sounds a lot like ‘I’m going to be a headache’ and I am not in ANY mood to pretend like I am adept at duplicity. With those thoughts in mind, Zriracha crossed her arms once more. “I might be able to this, however, keep in mind: The Chakkapak are a clan of ‘Potential Seekers’ and seek only to unlock the deep potential of mortals. However, in spite of this,” She finished. “You are not, as I see it, a mortal so these terms do not apply to you. The best I can offer… is freedom.”Were there conditions to said ‘freedom’? She didn’t know, being not a Demon that meddled in the affairs of the dead… until recently. Spell books and old incantations were hardly dependable reading when they were fiercely out of your range of knowledge. Kalaboo |
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Post by Kalaboo on Jun 22, 2020 9:31:28 GMT -6
If this parlor trick was enough to stun the demon Kalabas could only guess what effect his little world-ending stunt would have on her, something beyond leg-shearing catatonia! She had enough wits within her still to understand just what the Duke wanted, and some more to expect a nod for confirmation - how refreshingly polite and thorough for a literal devil! Yet for all this chummy chum-chum charm Kalabas remained unimpressed, Ikra had attempted something similar and that was partly why he wanted to be rid of her hold. He didn't know what to make of the Chakkapak and their potential seeking, they were but a forethought to the claim that he was not a mortal. Yet again he thought of vultures, those majestic birds of prey, and wondered if one should be considered any less than one after death... Preposterous! Of course Kalabas was still a mortal, quite simply he was one made acquainted with his own mortality on two occasions! But he would not argue dialectics with a demon that was more goat than person, not when her ignorance could be his leap to freedom. He only ought to make sure he would end no more ignorant than her. Kalabas showed her a scribbled note. How awfully candid of you to admit that all you can do is free me. You understand that there is a variety of freedoms one could enjoy or suffer, and that as a ghost it would be foolish of me to trust my soul to whatever definition tickles your fancy, yes? Better gamble it away on my own terms. Take a seat, play with your scouter, I am going to draft up a contract.He pointed at an oneiromancy armchair before beginning to write away furiously. A short minute passed before he gave away the contract and returned to playing with the vases.
Soul Contract I the reader, being in relative to absolute control of my mental and spiritual capacities, do hereby affirm and approve the emancipation of the soul in question, as well as define it as the immaterial essence; or manifestation of his Id, Ego and Superego; or lingering self-perpetuating ki of the deceased, one Duke Kalabas Strongbone. Furthermore, I do hereby solemnly swear on my own soul and honour to agree to the following terms and stipulations: I) I will in no way attempt to cause the undersigned any molestation of any kind, and furthermore will refuse to support any ploy, libel or jinx that would cause any damage that could be reputed under normal circumstances as irreparable harm. II) I will in no way appeal to a higher authority, be it from Hell, Heaven or mortal, or from whatever other plane of existence and beyond, for the purpose of reprisal or revision of matters beneficial to the undersigned. III) I will resurrect the undersigned within 24 (twenty-four) galactic standard hour cycles should the undersigned be unwilling to remain in the Underworld. IV) I will assist the undersigned in the protection, purification, or otherwise stabilization of his rights to his own immortal soul. V) I will never again lick display items before purchasing them as that is frankly a disgusting and hazardous thing to do. By reading any of the above words you have agreed to this contract, and may not deem any part of it null and void. You have been had by,
Kalabas Strongbone, Duke of StrongboneI take this chance to remind you that this is but a draft, and thus unimbued with magic.
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Post by Zriracha on Jun 25, 2020 8:14:58 GMT -6
The scribbled note that was given to her had the Demon give a soft sigh through her nose, reading the contents and… just like before, narrowing her eyes upon what was written. She glanced up at him, glaring as he seemed to have already begun drafting up a contract. … Yes, this is DEFINITELY going to be a headache. She’d heard rumors of mortals whom had been able to pull one over on many of the devils and demons that had created contracts and deals for their personal benefit. History will tell you that it was the Demon that got the better end of the agreement and that mortals were ‘heroic’ and ‘clever’ for finding ways to get out of contracts made by Demons. However, in spite of the outliers of VERY accomplished Demons that have been around for centuries… it was the many that had been taken advantage of and often used as examples that enforced the Chakkapak rule that ‘None my venture into the Mortal realms without proper knowledge and acceptable benchmark testing’. Also, what the hell was a ‘scouter’?! The moment she was given the contract draft and read through it, Zriracha wasn’t worried in the least about the ‘Reader agrees’ footnote. She looked up at Kalabas and, staring right into his eyes… burnt the contract to cinders.
“What is it the Humans say? You’re… ‘barking up the wrong tree’,” She quoted, giving a shake of her head. “You are quite clever to appropriate this little document, but without any magic behind you, as you had written, you’ve merely allowed me to understand that your desires and any future endeavor is only going to be a problem for me,” She stood up from the chair and offered a brief wave to one of the customers that held a phone to their ear before looking back at Kalabas with an expectant look. She reached for one of the items on the shelf next to her before giving it a brief lick and taking a bite out of it, chewing for good measure. Once she finished with that, Zriracha grinned, “Is there anything else I can help you with, Kalabas?” Her tone was firm, but carried a playful lilt to it that inferred that she was still willing to hear him out... but she wasn't going to be 'played' as his draft had so amusingly implied.
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