![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sparkindarknessWell... this caught me out. I knew it was hard to keep him down, but never knew Rick had it in him to be near as scary as Darren...
This game's going to get nasty...
I couldn’t believe it. What the fuck was he doing?! He put me in a fucking cage of darkness! I could hear things screaming and moaning. Shit, some of the things they were saying I could almost understand, well understand enough to know I really didn’t want to know. I don’t know how long I just lay there, just cowering on the floor. I have never been so fucking sacred in all my life. I think this is the first time it really hit me. Not just how powerful Darren was, I’ve known from the very beginning he could crush me in an instant. No, now it hit me just how much he‘s capable of, y’know, mentally. For the first time, I thought he could kill me...
I don’t know how long I just lay there, trying not to think, if you thought, the nightmares started, and believe me, that was a very bad thing. After an age of trying to hold back the screams, I felt them pull back, fading, like someone was pulling them away or something. It was the greatest feeling I’ve ever felt, like cleaning off acid, or seeing light after being struck blind. I gasped for breath, just loving it for a while. Until I heard him whisper weakly... never heard him like that before.
I got you, Rick. Knew I’d have to save your arse from him sooner or later...
“G-Ghost? Wha-. Wait, where’s Darren?”
He’s gone Rick. He went to meet his fascist family, you’re going to have to move it to reach him in time...
I shot to my feet, desperate for a way out... “what about you Ghost, you Ok?”
Concern for my wellbeing? Gah, how pathetic would I be if I needed your help?
Then I heard that rarest of things - Ghost being serious. Go, Rick. The spirit world’s clear, I’ll catch you later... he’s going to need you on this one, he’s over his head and he knows it.
“Serious? They that strong?”
Strong enough to take him down? Maybe... But they’re definitely strong enough to make him cross the line... Death might be better than that.
No way. Not while I’m alive. Not happening. Not an option. As Ghost sank deeply into a coma-like torpor to restore his power, I was already quickly scribing a circle on the floor. Keep it simple, it didn’t have to last long. I sang a quick benediction to the spirit, world, I really hate rushing this stuff, you can end up pissing off the wrong spirit that way. Still my credit’s good, and the risk was more than worth it.
The world rocked for a brief moment, rolled and waved and went all blurry, like the weirdest acid trip. It settled in form, looking almost exactly the same as it did before. I could see the difference, the extra vibrancy, the greater, well, depth. There was no real word for it, how can you describe the Astral Reflection to none-shamans? It’s like describing colour to a blind man. Spirits danced across the darkened room, shadowed by the reflection of Darren’s freaky prison. Most of them were the sort of gross things you'd expect to come to one of Darren’s spells. But this was my flat, and no matter how much weird shit Darren threw around, he’d never be able to banish every powerful ally I have. They were there, running an amazing defence, completely pounding the invaders. I so wanted to stay and help them... but something was happening, across the city. I could feel it rippling through the spirit world like a tidal wave. Darren...
I ran, I called spirits of flight and speed. Out on the street spirits of Rush Hour Haste, the New York Second and The Harried Shopper took me in their grasp and shunted me forward, calling the spiritual reflection of a speeding taxi, before adding their speed to its. The city scrolled past me on fast forward, until the park loomed in front of me.
I could see dark energies utterly blanketing the place, it was real thick and heavy. Darren must have been dishing out some heavy mojo for it to be having that much a reflection. It wasn't alone though, so I’m guessing neither was he. One was a sharp light, all edgy and piercing. i kept well away, whatever it was, I was betting it could feel me even in the spirit world. The second was rigid and angular, all lines and rules and freaky gleaming facets. I couldn’t even get near that one, walls of runes seemed to encase it from all sides. I pushed hard against one. I could break it, but it would have taken more time than I was willing to spend. I swore furiously. I couldn’t even get fucking near him! I would have been spotted or caught in cross fire or something. I closed my eyes for a few minutes and concentrated, feeling calm return and that part of me that lets me talk to spirits opened. I opened my eyes and parted the veiled between worlds with the eyelids. A man and a woman were stood opposite Darren. They seemed to be only talking, though Darren's power was getting severely invasive down there. Absolutely no-one looked like they were having a happy fun reunion. The girl actually had tears in her eyes.
Then I felt something else, and this pissed me off, never mind Darren. A third, we knew there were three of the bastards. Out in the park, an extra surprise for an ambush? Not on my watch buddy.
I ran closer and saw him through the trees. He shone like a beacon, far brighter than any of the others. His power was utterly massive, the whole astral plane practically glowed with it. I recognised it, and now was severely pissed.
With a couple of sharp, harsh hand gestures, I ripped a hole in the veil, not easing my way through, just tearing into the ‘real’ world. Fine silver chains coming from the light of the third guy tore, his links to the spirit world severely disrupted. guess I messed with his ritual. Shame.
I came out about twenty feet from him. An older man, in his fifties, with eyes nearly as dark a blue as Darren’s, and hair that was a near double, though only waist length. He was short, not as much as Darren, but still no giant. He wore clothes of natural fibres all tied and dyed with strange symbols I knew all too well. Symbols were painted on his skin, and charms dripped from every finger, from his ears, from his clothes, so he clattered slightly with every step. He glared at me through arrogant, angry eyes. I met him glare for glare, easily twice as pissed as he was.
“What are you doing here boy?” He was an arrogant prick, my hackles rose even higher as he openbed his fool mouth.
“I, old fool, live here, unlike you. You wanna tell me what the hell you’re playing at, waltzing into town then fucking with the local spirits?”
“Fool boy.” He raised one old arm holding a long carved wooden wand, chanting in the Old Tongue. Trees either side of me stretched, their spirit’s awakened. They reached for me with long, sharp branches. The grass under my feet writhed and twisted, green edges sharp as glass as it reached to slice through my shoes. I laughed a few brief words in the same language and waved a hand, idly. The trees stilled, the grass ruffled in the gentle breeze. The grass waved faster and faster, pushed on by a gale that roared and stormed. The winds roared strong and hard, hitting the old man like a fist, sending him flying and knocking that arrogant look from his smug face. A wind guided by powerful storm spirits. Spirits I'd summoned without a word or gesture.
“Idiot geriatric. This is my land, got it? This city is mine, these spirits are mine, all of them. By oath, by deed, by chiminage, word, loyalty and love. This is my fucking place! I don’t remember your introduction, but I tell you now,” he struggled to his feet in the teeth of angry nature, vainly trying to calm the spirits. He lurched as the ground beneath him roiled and rocked, as the Earth spirits took my fury and ran with it. “You are not welcome“
With those words the whole night raged into life. every spirit I had ever spoken to, called or aided. Every pact, honour and oath I held. Every shred of power I owned roared to the park, fiery vengeance rode them as they thundered round my seething spirit. Dimly, I felt him call his own broods, calling over vast differences, trying to sway any local spirits he could. The battle lines were drawn and armies had gathered.
Powerful Shamans are fiercely territorial. You don’t enter someone else’s territory without asking. You don’t screw with someone else’s spirits.
This place is mine, and I’ll die before I see another enslave it!
Or kill...
This game's going to get nasty...
I couldn’t believe it. What the fuck was he doing?! He put me in a fucking cage of darkness! I could hear things screaming and moaning. Shit, some of the things they were saying I could almost understand, well understand enough to know I really didn’t want to know. I don’t know how long I just lay there, just cowering on the floor. I have never been so fucking sacred in all my life. I think this is the first time it really hit me. Not just how powerful Darren was, I’ve known from the very beginning he could crush me in an instant. No, now it hit me just how much he‘s capable of, y’know, mentally. For the first time, I thought he could kill me...
I don’t know how long I just lay there, trying not to think, if you thought, the nightmares started, and believe me, that was a very bad thing. After an age of trying to hold back the screams, I felt them pull back, fading, like someone was pulling them away or something. It was the greatest feeling I’ve ever felt, like cleaning off acid, or seeing light after being struck blind. I gasped for breath, just loving it for a while. Until I heard him whisper weakly... never heard him like that before.
I got you, Rick. Knew I’d have to save your arse from him sooner or later...
“G-Ghost? Wha-. Wait, where’s Darren?”
He’s gone Rick. He went to meet his fascist family, you’re going to have to move it to reach him in time...
I shot to my feet, desperate for a way out... “what about you Ghost, you Ok?”
Concern for my wellbeing? Gah, how pathetic would I be if I needed your help?
Then I heard that rarest of things - Ghost being serious. Go, Rick. The spirit world’s clear, I’ll catch you later... he’s going to need you on this one, he’s over his head and he knows it.
“Serious? They that strong?”
Strong enough to take him down? Maybe... But they’re definitely strong enough to make him cross the line... Death might be better than that.
No way. Not while I’m alive. Not happening. Not an option. As Ghost sank deeply into a coma-like torpor to restore his power, I was already quickly scribing a circle on the floor. Keep it simple, it didn’t have to last long. I sang a quick benediction to the spirit, world, I really hate rushing this stuff, you can end up pissing off the wrong spirit that way. Still my credit’s good, and the risk was more than worth it.
The world rocked for a brief moment, rolled and waved and went all blurry, like the weirdest acid trip. It settled in form, looking almost exactly the same as it did before. I could see the difference, the extra vibrancy, the greater, well, depth. There was no real word for it, how can you describe the Astral Reflection to none-shamans? It’s like describing colour to a blind man. Spirits danced across the darkened room, shadowed by the reflection of Darren’s freaky prison. Most of them were the sort of gross things you'd expect to come to one of Darren’s spells. But this was my flat, and no matter how much weird shit Darren threw around, he’d never be able to banish every powerful ally I have. They were there, running an amazing defence, completely pounding the invaders. I so wanted to stay and help them... but something was happening, across the city. I could feel it rippling through the spirit world like a tidal wave. Darren...
I ran, I called spirits of flight and speed. Out on the street spirits of Rush Hour Haste, the New York Second and The Harried Shopper took me in their grasp and shunted me forward, calling the spiritual reflection of a speeding taxi, before adding their speed to its. The city scrolled past me on fast forward, until the park loomed in front of me.
I could see dark energies utterly blanketing the place, it was real thick and heavy. Darren must have been dishing out some heavy mojo for it to be having that much a reflection. It wasn't alone though, so I’m guessing neither was he. One was a sharp light, all edgy and piercing. i kept well away, whatever it was, I was betting it could feel me even in the spirit world. The second was rigid and angular, all lines and rules and freaky gleaming facets. I couldn’t even get near that one, walls of runes seemed to encase it from all sides. I pushed hard against one. I could break it, but it would have taken more time than I was willing to spend. I swore furiously. I couldn’t even get fucking near him! I would have been spotted or caught in cross fire or something. I closed my eyes for a few minutes and concentrated, feeling calm return and that part of me that lets me talk to spirits opened. I opened my eyes and parted the veiled between worlds with the eyelids. A man and a woman were stood opposite Darren. They seemed to be only talking, though Darren's power was getting severely invasive down there. Absolutely no-one looked like they were having a happy fun reunion. The girl actually had tears in her eyes.
Then I felt something else, and this pissed me off, never mind Darren. A third, we knew there were three of the bastards. Out in the park, an extra surprise for an ambush? Not on my watch buddy.
I ran closer and saw him through the trees. He shone like a beacon, far brighter than any of the others. His power was utterly massive, the whole astral plane practically glowed with it. I recognised it, and now was severely pissed.
With a couple of sharp, harsh hand gestures, I ripped a hole in the veil, not easing my way through, just tearing into the ‘real’ world. Fine silver chains coming from the light of the third guy tore, his links to the spirit world severely disrupted. guess I messed with his ritual. Shame.
I came out about twenty feet from him. An older man, in his fifties, with eyes nearly as dark a blue as Darren’s, and hair that was a near double, though only waist length. He was short, not as much as Darren, but still no giant. He wore clothes of natural fibres all tied and dyed with strange symbols I knew all too well. Symbols were painted on his skin, and charms dripped from every finger, from his ears, from his clothes, so he clattered slightly with every step. He glared at me through arrogant, angry eyes. I met him glare for glare, easily twice as pissed as he was.
“What are you doing here boy?” He was an arrogant prick, my hackles rose even higher as he openbed his fool mouth.
“I, old fool, live here, unlike you. You wanna tell me what the hell you’re playing at, waltzing into town then fucking with the local spirits?”
“Fool boy.” He raised one old arm holding a long carved wooden wand, chanting in the Old Tongue. Trees either side of me stretched, their spirit’s awakened. They reached for me with long, sharp branches. The grass under my feet writhed and twisted, green edges sharp as glass as it reached to slice through my shoes. I laughed a few brief words in the same language and waved a hand, idly. The trees stilled, the grass ruffled in the gentle breeze. The grass waved faster and faster, pushed on by a gale that roared and stormed. The winds roared strong and hard, hitting the old man like a fist, sending him flying and knocking that arrogant look from his smug face. A wind guided by powerful storm spirits. Spirits I'd summoned without a word or gesture.
“Idiot geriatric. This is my land, got it? This city is mine, these spirits are mine, all of them. By oath, by deed, by chiminage, word, loyalty and love. This is my fucking place! I don’t remember your introduction, but I tell you now,” he struggled to his feet in the teeth of angry nature, vainly trying to calm the spirits. He lurched as the ground beneath him roiled and rocked, as the Earth spirits took my fury and ran with it. “You are not welcome“
With those words the whole night raged into life. every spirit I had ever spoken to, called or aided. Every pact, honour and oath I held. Every shred of power I owned roared to the park, fiery vengeance rode them as they thundered round my seething spirit. Dimly, I felt him call his own broods, calling over vast differences, trying to sway any local spirits he could. The battle lines were drawn and armies had gathered.
Powerful Shamans are fiercely territorial. You don’t enter someone else’s territory without asking. You don’t screw with someone else’s spirits.
This place is mine, and I’ll die before I see another enslave it!
Or kill...
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2004-08-22 03:32 pm (UTC)i <3 the modern day version of rick's old, old magicks. yes. it gives me glee. *pets it*
and yikes?
i could see the territorial thing happening. all that time building relationships and friendships and some new guy shows up and starts randomly ordering everyone around? yeah, i could see him having a problem with that. it's an interesting side to see, tho, he's so laid back--well, outside of sex anyway. but this is something from the same root, basically. so okay, yeah, i can see it.
(no subject)
Date: 2004-08-23 03:16 pm (UTC)Rick is very calm usually, part of this is becausee he has a very good sense of self - he knows what he can/can't do, what he does/doesn't know and what does/doesn't matter. But once you cross into his certainties then he's very unyielding.
Basically, he's very possessive/protective (a common shaman trait) but usually knows better than to claim too much as 'his'.