> █████, Long Travel Train SrTc-22, First Class Cabin 7-1.
> 2nd of New Conception, 1316;
> 9:36 Sol Time.
Tapping his feet in a repetitive motion, Aethel notes, “It’s been a little over five minutes I’d say.” he looks over to the accented woman.
“Yes, zat is true…” while clasping her hands and keeping her now squinted eyes completely locked on the door, the accented woman responds.
Aethel slowly leans into her field of view snapping her out of focus, he asks in a slow kind of way, “...Shouldn’t we go and look or something like that?”
“Non, if somezing ‘as truly gone wrong I am ready to break us out of the window.” the accented woman smiles as she motions to the cabin window, the world outside now practically a blur due to the speed of travel, then she continues, “Do not worry about getting ‘urt or sick by the rain, I can and will protect us.”
Nodding, Aethel probes further, deciding to stand up “...And your friends— or at the very least your allies?”
“If zey ‘ave fallen or are in battle, zey would ‘ave rather I minimized any civilian casualties, zis begins wiz you.” somehow her smile seems to reinforce as stern while she speaks.
Nodding again, Aethel presses on, “But I can help if it ever comes to it… and I don’t particularly enjoy the idea of leaving them to fend for themselves, no matter how strong or experienced they are.”
“Zat is unacceptable, I cannot—!”
As the train stops in a violent whiplash the lights go out, Aethel loses his balance but before he can even let out a scream… he is caught in a soft embrace. Looking up, the accented woman now stands beside him utterly unshaken, and though her physical attention is on the surroundings, a certain energy courses readily through her arms.
Screams and noises are heard all around them, the entire train shakes violently but the woman is steadfast, her grip seems to grow tighter as the sounds and commotion wax and wane… but eventually they all die out and everything goes deathly still. Indeed, this chaos is palpably fierce even without being able to see it.
After a few moments standing like this, she breaks the silence, “Zis is ze time for you to get off— I shall not take no for an answer at zis time.”
“And… argh…. if I… ngh… say no anyway?” Aethel challenges, his body struggling in her embrace.
Suddenly raising him up by his arms to face her, she frowns what can only be described as a severe frown, looking Aethel dead in the eyes, “Why are you so insistent to fight, to walk zis road of peril? You are but young and ‘ave life yet to live… is zis not ze reason you ‘ave left your ‘ome in ze first place? To live?”
“You and your friends aren’t much older than me, I’m sure of that, so really I could ask the same of you.” a defiant expression colors Aethel’s face as he matches the tall, accented woman’s rather oppressive gaze.
Letting a groan loose for the first time to his ears, the accented woman sets Aethel down, it seems she finally relents, “What is your name, mon ami? It is far too difficult to operate wizout zis much.”
“Aethel Gren, no nicknames sadly.” flashing a smirk and doing a little curtsy right after.
A small titter escapes her before reciprocating both the curtsy and introduction, “Joséphine Morgane Alistair, ze daughter of Marquis Alistair and a detective for ze Magistrate’s Officiad, but I prefer you call me Fi.”
“So you’re a member of the Magistrate? You should’ve just said so, but, Fi, I am at your behest.” Aethel nods with a visible determination.
Approaching the door, Fi turns to face Aethel, “We will be off but before zis, a few zings: you shall listen to all my commands, including to run and leave me behind; you shall prioritize ze safety of civilians, even over your own; and you shall stay behind me at all times. Clear?”
“Crystal.”
With the affirmation by Aethel the two head out into the hallway, there, a rather disquieting feeling overarches everything. Such feelings of evil must be relentless, after all, a black and crimson miasma is beginning to form up to their knees. This otherworldly mist is gelid, chilling past clothing; it is also quickly thickening, restricting movement.
> █████, Long Travel Train SrTc-22, Car 7 Hall.
> 2nd of New Conception, 1316;
> 10:04 Sol Time.
Wordlessly they push on, checking cabins along the way, then coming to cabin number three they find a man out cold. He lies sprawled out on the floor next to the dining table, blood dripping from one of the corners, the same story is found on his forehead.
But as the two approach and begin to enter, there is some kind of guttural scream further along, it is hard to make any clear guesses as to what originates it. At first they resolve to continue and help the man, but another scream rings out, sounding far more desperate than the first.
“Should we? Whatever’s going on sounds bad, and it sounds like it’s coming from car ten, it’s your call though.” asks Aethel, looking at Fi with an unsure expression.
Fi considers the dilemma for a moment before coming up with an answer, “Zis man is wounded but if we lay ‘im on ze table, obtain ‘is key, and lock ze door from inside… ‘e should be safe long enough.”
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Doing just that in record time, they begin their rush towards car ten, but exiting car seven immediately gives them trouble. Obstructing their path is a spectre who wails a haunting tune, it is certainly colorless and mostly translucent, but amidst the mist it is as red as a curse.
As it weeps and haphazardly levitates across the hall, Aethel reaches into his pocket grabbing some kind of silver bead chain, its brilliant gleam catches the attention of Fi who lowers his hand. She looks at him with a cross expression before wagging a finger at him.
“...What?” Aethel tilts his head, face twisting in some fashion as he asks.
Fi shakes her head and then explains, “I appreciate your enzusiasm— but a prayer even wiz a rosary will take far too long to cast, draw far too much attention, and for too little of an effect. Zis is no normal ‘aunting, zis is a spectre from the underworld. A daemon.”
“An evil incarnate, then.” concludes Aethel with eyes widening, nods, and then pockets his rosary.
Shaking her head again, Fi continues explaining, “Not exactly you see, daemons are violent, yes, but zey are not inherently evil; it is just zat zey are spirits, constantly agonized, perceiving zis world in a frantic chaos.”
“So… how do we… kill it, do you have a… special power; technique?” another question from Aethel.
Her jaw falls looking like she was about to speak out loud, fortunately Fi stops herself before whispering, “What? Ma Déesse, no, I am not going to kill zis. I am a detective; an investigator, I avoid killing zis things as much as I am able to. Instead, I will pacify it and see if I can communicate wiz it to ga’zer information, zen release it from its pain.”
“Okay, my mistake— but… how do you plan to do that?” Aethel looks at the spectre, then continues, “It looks too dangerous to approach.”
“Watch.”
Slowly approaching the spectre she holds up her arms, chanting a near silent verse in tongues, she stops right before it as a soft glow begins to emanate from the tips of her fingers. Now that he thinks about it, Aethel realizes that this is a similar process to what she was doing while holding him.
At first the spectre rages, causing Aethel to start, but Fi speaks— or rather casts, “Mandatum Quies.” and immediately it stops in its tracks. Sighing a little and relaxing, Fi turns to face Aethel and motions for him to come closer, he does just that but with the utmost caution.
“Now is ze moment of truz— If you can hear me, daemon, speak to me in your tongue.” she speaks directly to the spectre, her hands still glowing, if not crackling, with energy.
The daemon actually speaks, its voice may be harsh to the ears due to distortion and its frequent wails mid-sentence, but in listening close the language sounds close enough to the common tongue… just with a little divergence in words compared to what is regularly in use now.
Fi slightly turns her head to look at Aethel, for some reason she smiles as she speaks, “C'est magnifique. You see Aezel, it speaks. Now, daemon, tell me what circumstances bring you ‘ere.”
Again the daemon speaks, it rambles on about different things but eventually it begins to make some sense. In guttural screeches there is a mention of some evil seed which spreads in the undergrowths of the lands… but then it specifies that only the realms that concrete and metal rule, still far from here, are corrupted thus.
Unfortunately it soon becomes incoherent as it cries out in pain, begging for their suffering to end, paranoid about the ‘master’s’ presence. The final words from it are nothing but ominous doomsday, this turnout causes Fi to pull out a marked packet of strange powder, deftly pour it on the ground in a precise pattern before snapping her fingers.
In doing so the powder rises up and binds the spectre as if it was a physical being. It cries out, starting extremely abrasively, but in an instant; not even one second, the sound dies and the thing fades away with a hiss. Fi turns to Aethel now, pity on her brow.
“Usually when we do clean up like zis, we ‘ave a priest at ‘and… well now I ‘ave a favor to ask of you, Aezel… could you pray for ‘er, zis is the least we can do for zem.” she speaks with a stable, rather calm voice.
Nodding, Aethel does not argue, “Alright, I understand.”
After performing a quick prayer, that guttural scream rings out again, Aethel and Fi return to their goal to reach car ten. Not so easily though, but nothing as troubling as more spectres. In car eight they did their checks to every cabin, finding a few more unconscious people, ensuring they were safe they continued to car nine, the scream still at large.
> █████, Long Travel Train SrTc-22, Car 9 Hall.
> 2nd of New Conception, 1316;
> 10:16 Sol Time.
There they heard a struggle in one of the cabins, they wasted no time in investigating it, the struggle came from cabin two so they decided on approaching with a cautious haste. What sounds like a man fighting something quick comes up muffled from their side of the door, but the door would not budge, Fi tells Aethel to stand back.
As soon as he does, Fi breaks through the door in vicious fashion, revealing the uniformed man struggling against… what looks to be a civilian. Shaking herself off she runs to aid him calling for Aethel to do the same, the civilian however shows themself to have unnatural strength, this causes the two to struggle just the same.
Aethel, being knocked into the wall, cries out, “What the fuck?! Possession?!”
“Hit the nail— argh! On the head—! I’m sure—! At this point you know that we aren’t— fuck! In the business of harming civilians either!” The uniformed man replies, dodging attacks all the while.
Fi, doing the same as the uniformed man interjects, voice sounding frantic, “I— I ‘ave an idea, Aezel, Karter!”
“Anytime is a good time—! To hit— NOT YOU ASSHOLE— US WITH IT!” The uniformed man responds, his tone only growing more and more grievous.
Crouching to find some respite, Fi commands “Aethel, rip ze curtains off and consecrate zem— bind zem with zis!”
“I’m—! on it!” screams Aethel as he dives towards the window.
Taking hold of the curtain and using his falling motion, Aethel tears it clean off the hanger, then channeling his energy and reciting the prayer of consecration, he succeeds in the first phase of the improvised plan. As he lies on the floor he looks to Fi and nods his head.
Fi, noticing, looks at the uniformed man, “Karter, assist me— woah! Ah, we must give Aezel—! an opening!”
“Then—! do as I do!” nodding, the uniformed man channels his energy and takes hold of one the civillian’s arms; pulling it towards himself as he moves to one side of the room. At the same time, Fi is following suit.
Now that the civilian is in place, Aethel springs up and begins wrapping them in the blessed curtains, completing the latter phase of the spur-of-the-moment plan. In the instant he finishes wrapping, and also as the cloth first touches them, the civilian loses all strength and collapses to the ground. They struggle roughly but are unable to move.
Aethel, catching his breath, looks up at the uniformed man, “So… you’re Karter then?”
“I am, and I am ALWAYS fucking right— IN A DAMN PINCH AFTER ALL HAHA—!” practically screaming this, Karter begins to laugh through all his adrenaline, his hysteria causes Aethel to join him… Fi on the other hand sits limp and breathless, her expression not as amused as her companions’.