#fivepoints;poltergeist

Then he saw her. Like he said before, she was unmissable. Her white hair glowed in the dark like a halo and in that moment, all Samuel felt was relief. She was here. She was alive. He mumbled an excuse me, and started walking. That walk turned into a jog, until it turned into a run and his lips parted, shouting her name before he could stop himself.

‘‘Zadie! Zadie!’‘

Relief.

All he could feel was relief. And she turned around, but he was already there. His arms around her, his face in her hair, breathing in her smell. Oh, her hair. She was okay. Samuel pulled back, his hands on her upper arms as he looked her over. Samuel could barely feel the blood still dripping from his ear, down his neck. All he could think about was her

She was here.

She was okay.

‘‘Zadie.’‘

Samuel remembered the shop window smashing. He remembered because a large piece of jagged glass had almost blinded him. He had moved his face just on time, the glass instead slicing through the edge of his ear. He remembered briefly seeing the demon before the light blinded him and the next thing Samuel knew he was laying in the bottom of an empty, freshly dug grave in the dark.

Lucy swooped down from the air, a dark blur in the night that landed on his chest and nuzzled into the crook of his neck. Are you alright? Sam sat up, a cough breaking free from his throat. He covered his mouth with his hand, the violent spasming coughing fit rendering him breathless for a moment. Samuel waved his hand wordlessly, silently asking for a moment before inhaling deeply when he could. 

‘’I’m fine.’’ Samuel murmured as he got up, climbing out of the grave and wiping his hands over his jeans. Lucy still flapped around him, concern growing in her at the dishevelled sight of him. You’re bleeding. Sam looked at her, a frown forming on her forehead. That was when he felt the thin trickle of blood dripping down his neck where the red was already drying in a dark stain on his skin. A memory of standing in the circle chose that moment to hit him hard, again leaving him breathless and his eyes widening.

‘‘Zadie!’‘ Sam spun in a circle, realising that they were in a graveyard. But not one he recognised himself, this wasn’t the Church’s territory. Samuel cupped his hands over his mouth, remembering how he had been looking at Zadie, and she had looked back at him when the glass had gone flying at his face. ‘‘Hey--’‘ The warlock caught sight of someone else looking just as confused as he felt. ‘‘Have you seen Zadie MacLain!? Yay high, white hair. She’s impossible to mis-- ah, are you okay?’‘ Samuel’s worry for Zadie fading slightly as he got closer to them.

Cold. It was cold and her back was wet. Her ears were ringing and Imogen struggled to open her eyes. She tried again, and again until they finally opened. Her eyes still felt heavy, and she felt dazed. As if someone had hit her over the head, hard. Where was she? 

The war.

Imogen’s hand grabbed hold of something wet, something hardening to ice in her hand. She shoved herself up, snow falling from her hair and shoulders as she looked around, trying to keep her panic at bay. How long had she been out for? Several more moments passed, ones in which she tried gripping at the fleeting memories of the past few hours that circled jumbled in her brain.

The war was over. It had been the poltergeist, a minor demon, Arlo. She had been in the town square, and now she... wasn’t. Imogen’s hand reached for the back of her head, it was pounding. She must have hit it when she was brought-- here. 

‘‘Where the hell am I?’‘ Imogen spoke out loud, a wince at how deafening her voice sounded to herself. A minor concussion maybe. She patted herself down, checking for any injuries, satisfied when she couldn’t feel any. The dark haired witch pushed herself to her feet, swaying slightly in the snow before catching sight of someone else laying a few steps away in the snow.

‘‘Hey, hey you--’‘ Immy walked towards them, her eyes darting around her surroundings. She couldn’t hear Charlie, or see him. ‘‘Are you okay?’‘ Her first priority was anyone else she could see. Charlie was capable, he could handle himself. She would look for him afterwards. ‘‘Where the hell are we?’‘

A circle in a square had been blown apart and Maddox found himself in a familiar location: the entrance of the carnival funhouse. In the shrill undertone of howling wind he thought the coyote call of his familiar could be heard. Maddox answered. I’m at the carnival. Stay home.

If anyone else turned up after a spell which revolted against the town-- fuck ‘em. They were on their own. 

It was difficult to pry the door open with a few feet of snow already settled against the bottom. Once inside he produced a small orb of floating fire. More for heat than light. He knew the insides of the funhouse the way he knew every line etched on the palm of his hand. 

The long tunnel no longer spinning. Without the feet of visitors stepping on them the shifting staircase was also still and frozen. Maddox sat down at the top of them. It wasn’t long before he heard the creak of the door again, the sharp wail of weather growing louder before being muted again. “Go find another spot to wait out the storm. This one is taken.” 

The ground squished beneath her feet, cold and damp. The moment Rowan woke up, she knew something was wrong. The ritual had built up around the gathering of witches and warlocks in such a way that it was unbelievable to think they’d been killing each other for the past five years. It was almost--hopeful. But the feeling was replaced with a sense of emptiness, a different kind of company. Because Rowan realized she was at the cemetery.

She shivered and fumbled with the zipper of her leather jacket to finally zip it up, stuffing her grey scarf under the layers to guard from the cold. The temperature continued to drop. Regaining her sense of direction, she started walking, figuring she needed to make good time back to the village to make herself useful.

The first person she saw was a witch she knew had been at the circle. So maybe she wasn’t the only one that had been flung out of the ritual? “Hey, uh, Minerva, is it?” Rowe asked her. She chuckled weakly. “Weren’t we just at the square, or am I having a weird dream?”

With only a small scuffle to iron out on the East side of the square, Captain Hayes soon gave each coven leader a sign of the affirmative before stepping into the circle himself. Everyone was in place. Everyone had a place. The ritual could begin.

Incantations were delicate things. This one started out as a soft murmur. Only a few deep voices harmonizing with a scratchy soprano. As each person in the circle added their voice, the sound swelled. Unity was important, and so was timing. Each syllable needed to hit at the same time.

An itchy sort of warmth began to spread from palm to palm. Magic seeking out magic, grabbing on and growing bigger than any one person could do on their own. Waves of magic reached out, drawing the valley’s unruly specter toward the town square. Arlo made his presence known by smashing in the window of the nearest shop.

Snowballs began to fly at their faces. Some of the broken glass went flying too. Captain Hayes shouted once to hold the line, and was then drowned out by an unearthly sound that brought with it an overwhelming sense of agitation that seemed to settle in the chest each participant. 

A bubble of blue light appeared in the middle of the circle. Anyone who could stare at it for longer than a couple seconds could catch a glimpse of Arlo’s contorted facial features. Eyes that were several times too large, and pointed where they should be curved. Strange markings on the sides of his face. A mouth that seemed to run vertical rather than horizontal. With each passing second that the incantation continued, the bubble grew brighter and bigger until its edge ran the length of the chain the covens had created.

Hold the line.

Itchy warmth in their hands began to burn, and the light from the bubble was so bright that several people closed their eyes. Brighter. Brighter until the light could be seen even with eyes closed. Then the town square went unnaturally silent. Pop. Everything went dark. A violent gust of wind blew through the circle, yanking each hand away from the hand that held it. It blew away hats and scarves, and shoved people to the ground with a unnatural strength. Then it was gone.

So was the town square.

The good news is that Arlo has been pushed back into the spirit realm. The bad news is that the force of magic required to do this spell has rebounded. All participants will find themselves instantly teleported to a new location at the conclusion of the ritual. Some participants may be worse for wear, and it would be wise to seek shelter soon as the storm predicted by the Community of Unholy Saints has taken a sharp turn toward a blizzard.

The closest landmark to your character is:

The Keyes’ Carnival grounds. The rides don’t appear to be running at the moment, and the funnel cake stand is closed.

Maddox @darkxkeyes

Stella @stella-dawes

Eli @wildmansoul

Cypris @arsenic-inyourveins

Ambrosia @ambrosia-atwood

Titania @titaniias

A graveyard in Circle of Nightfall territory. The oldest headstone dates back to the 1600′s, and there’s a small cabin for a groundskeeper that seems to be empty.

Samuel @samuelsharpe

Rowan @rowanmaclain

Zadie @zadie-maclain

Wendy @witchxwendy

Declan @pickthelocke

Minerva @minilocke

The Rathmore Farm. The barn is occupied by a couple of pygmy goats and one alpaca. No lights are on in the farmhouse:

Ban @banavett

Valko @valko-rathmore

Tempest @tempest-wood

Severin @severin-ealing

Regan @regan-oconnor

NOTICE FROM THE ALLIED WATCHMEN OF FIVE POINTS At approximately 2:45am, a humming sound vibrates through the valley. It catches on glass, on windows and trinkets, and mostly finds its home in hollow items, like jars. The humming intensifies until it becomes a ringing, rattling the gilded chandelier in the Post Office, clattering against the back counter of the Porter Café. It isn’t an attack, though. It’s a signal.

A fine, booming voice reaches out.

“By ordered of the Allied Watchmen of Five Points--” 

Captain Hatfield Hayes had one of those basso profundo voices that really etched in your bones.

“The spirit has been identified.”

They’d caught him flitting around several areas, the sensors the watchmen had put up earlier in the day catching light. First at the Bakehouse, again -- he seemed to like his former haunts. And then the Academy. Greengardens. The post office. He rattled around the town like it was his personal playground, and they let him, watching, learning.

Arlo.

A lieutenant of Balthazar, adept in misery and war. They caught his reflection in the window of Dawes Draperies, the gray-green skin and jet-black hair mirroring his description in Captain Hayes’ grimoire. He was sly, clever. And they’d brought him here themselves.

Captain Hayes sighed, the sound reaching the valley like a soft rain.

“All are instructed to leave their posts and meet in the village square.”

The square wasn’t actually a square, but a meeting of three roads and five corners. A pentagram was laid in slate amidst the cobblestone. 

“Join hands and form a circle. Elders from each coven will lead us in incantation.”

It was necessary for all three. Unity.

“Don’t delay.”

NEXT UP AT FIVE POINTS  The poltergeist has been identified as Arlo, a minor demon. He prides himself on causing chaos and misery in the wake of war. Your characters may be feeling particularly agitated or emotionally low as a result of his presence. Take comfort in the presence of your neighbors, and join hands.

@minilocke

Among the list of places Cypris had little desire to venture back into those stone hallways and inner workings of the beast of a building the Academy was ranked very high; he couldn't say that his education there had been horrible but the social side of it hadn't really been much of a positive in those lonely and awkward years.  He wasn’t that person anymore, not the wayward, too-curious youngest of his family trying to live up to the accomplishments of the siblings before him; he wasn’t a great deal many things he used to be back then before the war and some..he wished he still were.

Felt like a lifetime past compared to the odd number of years it in fact had been, and now mandate from the powers that be within the town had shoved him right back amid the dull echo of tiled floors and looming doorways. It was a fitting enough setting to be chasing ghosts, wasn't it? A patchwork building that reeked of magic from every corner and the tensions of adolescence haunting those rooms just as strong as any spell. 

Was it really the sort of place that was even safe when it came to poltergeist? Didn't those unsteady spirits feed off the sort of disjointed, emotionally-charged energy that was bound to be an excess there?

Cypris had enough sense to know that, even with as much as he longed to learn more about the gray lines between life and death, he certainly didn't have any solid experience in dealing with the ugly side of it. 

He also had just as little idea who the poor soul cast into that place with him for the evening; with any luck they'd last out the night without a fight but luck was always a slim idea. And if it truly was some earth-trapped spirit charged by intensity that was all the more reason to keep his head out of the clouds and his focus even; which was all grand to know but Cypris had a terrible habit of getting distracted. 

Even then, waiting around for his counterpart in that evening of specter-chasing, his mind wandered the old memories of those hallways; somewhere between possibilities that made him a bit eager to see what might happen and wariness, there was a great deal to think over. That didn't even count in the unexpected factor soon to arrive, unless they never showed and he was to carry on by himself all night in that old and groaning building. Or nearly alone, not counting Gris tucked at his shoulder, of course. 

A sound stirred his attention, eyes drawn from study of a few faded old words scrawled on the main hallway wall towards the echo of motion, steps reverberated like a landslide in that space and at least he didn't have to worry about anybody sneaking up on him as they approached.