Scribe of Thoth

The Shattering of Aegis

---

Don't cause problems for the House (read: make sure all witnesses are effectively silenced) and remember to bring back a head. Seemed simple enough. One of his colleagues-to-be - yet another aetherborn, the tingle in the back of his skull supplied before Aleka confirmed it - helpfully demonstrated the procedure for turning in a contract almost on cue. If Ceolfric didn't know any better, he'd say it was planned, but not even Cerric seemed up to that level of pointless theatrics.

Aleka's offer earned a scrutinizing glare from the bandit. If he were to seek mentorship, he always assumed it would only be found at the end of a gnarled, discordant string of fate ripped from hated Azaiza's loom; some entity borne to this plane on the designs of a dusty grimoire who intended to barter knowledge for souls, not a local apothecary. His was the power of kings and concubines alike, true, but what could a common shopkeeper possibly have to show him? Cerric said it best, aetheric prowess was forged at the end of a blade. Ceolfric managed to rip his eyes away from Aleka long enough to raise a scarred brow at the bard. Hopefully these alleged stories inspired more awe than a description of her occupation, though he wasn't exactly holding his breath. Maybe the woman could provide a useful trick or two to make the tedious parts of his job more tolerable. The House doubtlessly frowned upon wanton slaughter in pursuit of a contract and he lacked the manpower this far south to simply hold an entire town hostage for the sake of finding one man anyway.

Things were simpler when the laws of men didn't apply to him.

The return of the servant who'd carried the books away reclaimed Ceolfric's attention, if only out of sheer curiosity. It wasn't surprising that his lordship hadn't deigned to greet them despite being in attendance, street rabble that they were, but for Freckles of all people to catch his eye was unexpected. Was it simply the novelty of being the odd man out? The only (alleged) mundane mortal among a pack of aether-blessed demigods? By Ceolfric's measure, that should've only made him less worthy of attention. Did Mystaleth spot some incongruency in his story? If he'd lie about the glowing dots on his face, surely he could lie about something else, but to be caught so easily by a complete stranger was as pathetic as it was unlikely. Then again, it wasn't a stretch to assume his senses were even sharper than Ceolfric's and he simply noted the disparity between five aetherborn entering and only four being recorded.

He looked again to Lilann to see if the fate that had befallen her brother - no, he supposed to couldn't be related, given their differing stories of origin - had unduly stolen her attention away from whatever tavern tales this serpent oil saleswoman must've inspired for Aleka to mention it. Instead, it seemed the teenager was vying for her attention now. Lady M? As in Mystraleth? Did he miss something? Was Vivian the lord's wife? He didn't see anything strange about her conduct, in any case. Tainted drew glances quite a bit, as far as Ceolfric was aware.

"More importantly," Ceolfric tacked on to Ermes' inquiry, "Do you know the story on this Agitha character? Preferrably without the ridiculous embellishments thrown on by whomever told you the tale." Maybe he'd be pleasantly surprised and learn this woman had cultivated a merchant empire through mass mind control of the local Red Fern producers or founded her alchemy business on potions brewed from the blood of dragons she'd slain in single combat.

---

@McMolly

The Shattering of Aegis

---

Kyreth's timid response elicited little more than an eye roll from the brigand. His powers must've been pitiful indeed if he was content to settle for the status of a stepped-on peasant when there was so much world left to conquer. Every word of Aleka's explanation of contract work hammered the point home - it was for cowards, the infirm, and those without aspirations. Thankfully, Aleka and Cerric both spoke his language for the remainder of their little double comedy act. Winning fame and infamy along the edge of a blade was exactly what he was here for, even if there was an inane test involved.

The only unfortunate caveat was that he'd likely be thrown in with these other fools for the sake of convenience on the part of his evaluators. Unless either of the two women pulled something out of their proverbial hats to impress him, the exercise would likely be an exercise of how much of their slack Ceolfric could pick up. The teenager certainly wasn't going to be useful for anything beyond maybe pickpocketing.

Cerric's earlier concern for Eila's connections didn't go unnoticed, though the girl's question evaporated whatever fleeting interest Ceolfric had in them, along with any chance of her being useful in their test. Clearly it couldn't be too interesting if she was scared of getting her hands a little dirty as a mercenary. She was a pretty face to act as bait at best.

"If the fair lady should find a contract objectionable to her delicate sensibilities, I'd be happy to take it off her hands," Ceolfric offered dryly. They knew what he was, and old habits die hard; there was no reason to beat around the bush. If someone wanted a debtor's legs broken, so be it. "Provided, of course, the House doesn't deem it too offensive to the institution's reputation to even consider honoring the contract." Ceolfric wasn't certain what their vetting criteria was for accepting requests, but if it got past Aleka and the client was confident enough to leave a paper trail right back to himself, Ceolfric wasn't the type to second guess the job.

Besides, coin flows all the faster when the client has to pay for discretion on top of the job itself. They'd be fools not to entertain at least some requests that toed the line of disrepute.

---

Onryo Hunters - A ghost-battling magical girl/boy RP

---

"You know, for a major disturbance, it sure is hard to find," An emerald-haired teenager groaned as he trudged through the forest. For all his tsukumogami's alarm, Naoto certainly hadn't seen any signs of onryo activity, and he'd been walking for at least the past twenty minutes.

"It wouldn't be if you'd listen to my directions and not wander off toward whatever catches your eye," The gnarled rag perched atop his shoulder responded, its tail end swaying like an agitated cat.

"But what if that light in the distance was an onryo?"

"It was clearly a street lamp, pay attention!"

How was he supposed to know he'd wandered too close to the road? Kabi had just given him a direction and told him to start walking, and Naoto didn't believe for a second that the shiro-uneri knew his way around town. Back in his day, this was probably all rice fields or something anyway. Case in point; if there was a street nearby, why hadn't he been told to walk here using that instead of trudging through the forest in the dark with only a phone flashlight and a nagging towel to guide him? He'd nearly tripped like three times now.

Fortunately, his woes seemed to be at an end (only to be replaced with entirely new woes of the supernatural variety) when the silhouette of a person shambled into Naoto's field of view.

"We're here," Kabi announced as he vigilantly perked up in search of the onmyo, "They're all heading for the source of the corruption. Follow the trail."

Naoto wasn't sure who 'they' were at first, but as he nudged his slipping glasses up and shined his phone light further along in the silhouette's path, countless others revealed themselves - ordinary people trudging mindlessly forward like zombies in search of a meal. Lucky him; everyone always said he'd be perfectly safe if zombies started eating brains. The enthralled masses didn't seem hostile to him, in any case. But beyond that, he felt something else, something that felt like Kabi but definitely wasn't, a tingle in whatever sixth sense linked him to the other side. Other hunters were already here, close enough to be felt but somewhere Naoto couldn't yet see.

He didn't bother waiting for Kabi's input, and instead took off running toward the subtle allure ringing in the back of his head. Naoto crashed through the threshold of limbo mid-bound, as if he'd simply dove into a wall of water before him. It washed over him much the same as a jump into any lake would, the cool dampness of Kabi's borrowed power replacing the familiarity of his own skin and clothes. The weight on his shoulder grew rapidly heavier and then subsided all at once as the tattered rag perched atop it expanded into a serpentine curtain and slithered off to take flight beside him.

The doe-eyed gaze he'd sported before sharpened into the scarlet glare of a predator as Naoto took in the scene again from a more spiritually-aware vantage point, not that he really would've needed to - the zombies were slumping over now, which meant whatever was feeding on them had to be very close.

"Wah! Creepy ghost girl eating the dead guy over there," Naoto yelped as he gesticulated wildly at a newfound figure hunched over one of the bodies. That was easy. The purple girl next to her didn't look like an onmyo either, so she clearly had to be the other hunter he'd felt. Looked like she already had it cornered. The pink one could go either way, though she looked more at home haunting a candy factory than a forest.

"That's a hunter," Kabi grumbled wearily, "And they're not dead yet, so stay on task."

Naoto deflated immediately. "Oh." Wind promptly stolen from his sails, the newly ashen-haired boy shuffled over to his fellow hunters with an apologetic grin and a casual wave. "Sorry about that. Um. Have you seen the ghostie yet?"

---

@LuckyBlackCat@Wayward@Strawberry

⥑ Ember to Ashes ⥏ Dark Fantasy/Mythology (Interest Check)

I could definitely be into this

Onryo Hunters - A ghost-battling magical girl/boy RP

@Myke If nothing on the list is catching your eye and you can’t think of another object to use, maybe think of a hunter power first and pick an object within that same sphere

Onryo Hunters - A ghost-battling magical girl/boy RP

Crouching Tiger, Moldy Dragon

Hunter

Name: Harukaze Naoto

Age: 17

Gender: Male

Regular Appearance:

Regular Appearance

Transformed Appearance:

Transformed Appearance

Abilities: When transformed, Kabi unfurls into a serpentine dragon that slithers through the air at Naoto's behest.

• Smells Like Quaran-teen-ed Spirit - Naoto and Kabi are both capable of emitting a pungent, mildewy odor that saps away at the strength of nearby onryo, which Kabi can exacerbate by constricting them in his tattered body. Unfortunately, the smell's not very pleasant for anyone else either.
• The Dragon Feasts - Kabi can draw corruption into his draconic maw like a whale feeding on krill, where he then cleanses it within his body.
• Breath of the Great Dragon - Though not very glamorous, Naoto can emit jets of dirty dishwater that eat away at corrupted energies far more efficiently than his noxious odor does.

Personality: Energetic and scatterbrained to a fault, it's hard to keep Naoto's attention on anything for very long before his brain bounces off in another direction. In Naoto's worldview, a moment enjoyed is never a moment wasted, and the most dreadful state of being he can fathom is boredom. (What the hell is 80 HD and why do people say he has it? He's not a TV.) His parents would say he neglects to apply himself to anything, that he flits around toward whatever stimuli happen to catch his attention at the moment before dropping them entirely and moving on to something else. This is fairly accurate, much to his denial. (How's he supposed to focus on boring stuff all day anyway?) He pours his restless energy into everything he does, and expects everyone else to keep up, even when his attention span lapses and he's on to the next distraction.

History: The Harukazes have historically been very involved in the local shrine, and the current family is no exception; Naoto's mother was a shrine maiden in her youth and his father is a respected shinshoku. Naturally, they expected their children to continue this legacy. Naoto's older sister took to it wonderfully, the pride of their family and a spitting image of her mother as she tended to the shrine. Naoto himself was less than impressive. He never could seem to pay attention to his father's teachings and the rituals slipped his mind faster than he could learn them. As far as he was concerned, he just wasn't cut out to be a priest. Though as he grew older, the weight of his family's expectations mounted. Generation after generation of shrine tenders, only to be sullied by his laziness - or at least that's how his parents saw it. His mother in particular made it her mission to remind Naoto of this. Why couldn't he be more like his sister? She was dancing kagura and assisting in festivals at his age, but he could barely sit still long enough for a tea ceremony.

What started as simple ineptitude became willful disobedience. Naoto wanted nothing to do with that shrine. Whatever duties he was given, he'd rush through as fast as possible, just to get them over with. Eventually, his parents relegated him only to simple chores around the shrine, impatient as he was for the nuances of ritual and ceremony, while his sister was lavished with praise since somebody had to carry on the family name. Naoto wouldn't have minded if it didn't include constant reminders of what he should be doing and how disappointing of a son he was. As if the kami themselves were disappointed in him too, strange misfortune began following Naoto in his late teens. Nothing explicit enough to cause alarm, but it seemed like the more he denied his heritage, the worse his string of bad luck got. He was pretty sure he hadn't gotten a positive fortune on New Years in, well, years.

Naoto would've been content to leave it at that, had he not been (un)lucky enough to be assigned the envious task of cleaning out an old storage shed just off the shrine grounds. What should've been a banal, torturous task for the boy became instantly interesting when he toppled over a trunk of old linens and a voice of all things emerged from it. An old rag, tattered and mildewed to the point that it should've been thrown away, slithered out of the pile of fabric like a snake, rejoicing in the fact that a gifted individual had finally graced the shrine again and lamenting how foolish it was to not have an exorcist on hand for generations. The sudden contrast of himself being called a gifted exorcist while this serpentine towel dismissed his family as unfit to manage the shrine was so jarring that it halted whatever urge Naoto had to run away, and he found himself entranced by the creature's words. He wanted to know more. He wanted to be called special again. He wanted to run outside and rub the towel snake's words in his mother's face.

Unfortunately for Naoto, the praise did not last long. Kabi - as the rag introduced itself - found Naoto's incessant questioning while he explained the reality of the supernatural grating, and what started as a wise teacher imparting wisdom on a student quickly became a tyrant barking orders at his newest soldier. The green-haired boy was hardly the hunter Kabi had hoped for during his long slumber, but he was yet young and thus malleable.

Naoto's first foray into limbo was at the behest of a demanding taskmaster, and he feared that his new 'sacred duty' would quickly become as much of an unpleasant shadow looming over him as his old one. Only the novelty of the situation kept him distracted from that uncomfortable truth. (He kinda wanted to see what a ghost looked like now that he knew they were real.) The thought perished as soon as Naoto loosed his new pet dragon on the hunched over figure that hissed at his approach. He knew at once, this was his purpose. Kabi said he was born for it - something he'd heard before - but as the last of the spirit's lingering essence faded, Naoto found success where his parents' expectations had been met only with failure. He emerged back into the real world Kabi's dutiful disciple, eager to grow as a hunter. Or at least as dutiful as his attention span allowed, much to Kabi's chagrin.

Likes:

• Attention.
• Easygoing people.
• Doing stupid things with friends. The more ill-conceived, the better.
• Tempura.
• Lowbrow humor.
• Anyone willing to patiently teach his dumb ass math.

Dislikes:

• Having to sit still.
• His unintentional involvement in his family's legacy.
• Kabi's smell.
• Doing anything slowly.
• Pessimists.
• Criticism from women. (They're just a proxy for his mother)
• Optometrists.

Fears:

• His parents finding out about the whole 'hunter' thing.
• Being trapped in monotony.

Other: Naoto has a very tenuous conception of personal space when he’s excited.

---

Tsukumogami

Name: Kabi

Item: Moldy Kitchen Rag (Shiro-Uneri)

Appearance:

Appearance

Personality: The August and Most Puissant Kabi-sama considers himself a noble dragon of regal bearing, and expects reverence befitting his station. This would be a bit more convincing if he wasn't a smelly towel. To make matters worse, His Celestial Majesty must occupy his time babysitting his hunter, lest the poor fool wander off in the middle of his duty most sacred. Kabi usually comes off as a crotchety old man and tends to nag a lot, especially to Naoto, though his ire can be assuaged by feeding his ego. For all his pomp, Kabi takes his duty very seriously, and once an onryo catches his notice, he will entertain no distractions - for himself or Naoto - until it has been cleansed.

Other: Though Kabi finds Naoto lacking compared to the hunter he'd bonded with in the past, he learned very quickly, in all his wisdom and splendor, that verbally measuring the boy unfavorably to them was a quick way to lose his attention, and thus politely refrains from such comparisons.

Onryo Hunters - A ghost-battling magical girl/boy RP

Crouching Tiger, Moldy Dragon

Hunter

Name: Harukaze Naoto

Age: 17

Gender: Male

Regular Appearance:

Regular Appearance

Transformed Appearance:

Transformed Appearance

Abilities: When transformed, Kabi unfurls into a serpentine dragon that slithers through the air at Naoto's behest.

• Smells Like Quaran-teen-ed Spirit - Naoto and Kabi are both capable of emitting a pungent, mildewy odor that saps away at the strength of nearby onryo, which Kabi can exacerbate by constricting them in his tattered body. Unfortunately, the smell's not very pleasant for anyone else either.
• The Dragon Feasts - Kabi can draw corruption into his draconic maw like a whale feeding on krill, where he then cleanses it within his body.
• Breath of the Great Dragon - Though not very glamorous, Naoto can emit jets of dirty dishwater that eat away at corrupted energies far more efficiently than his noxious odor does.

Personality: Energetic and scatterbrained to a fault, it's hard to keep Naoto's attention on anything for very long before his brain bounces off in another direction. In Naoto's worldview, a moment enjoyed is never a moment wasted, and the most dreadful state of being he can fathom is boredom. (What the hell is 80 HD and why do people say he has it? He's not a TV.) His parents would say he neglects to apply himself to anything, that he flits around toward whatever stimuli happen to catch his attention at the moment before dropping them entirely and moving on to something else. This is fairly accurate, much to his denial. (How's he supposed to focus on boring stuff all day anyway?) He pours his restless energy into everything he does, and expects everyone else to keep up, even when his attention span lapses and he's on to the next distraction.

History: The Harukazes have historically been very involved in the local shrine, and the current family is no exception; Naoto's mother was a shrine maiden in her youth and his father is a respected shinshoku. Naturally, they expected their children to continue this legacy. Naoto's older sister took to it wonderfully, the pride of their family and a spitting image of her mother as she tended to the shrine. Naoto himself was less than impressive. He never could seem to pay attention to his father's teachings and the rituals slipped his mind faster than he could learn them. As far as he was concerned, he just wasn't cut out to be a priest. Though as he grew older, the weight of his family's expectations mounted. Generation after generation of shrine tenders, only to be sullied by his laziness - or at least that's how his parents saw it. His mother in particular made it her mission to remind Naoto of this. Why couldn't he be more like his sister? She was dancing kagura and assisting in festivals at his age, but he could barely sit still long enough for a tea ceremony.

What started as simple ineptitude became willful disobedience. Naoto wanted nothing to do with that shrine. Whatever duties he was given, he'd rush through as fast as possible, just to get them over with. Eventually, his parents relegated him only to simple chores around the shrine, impatient as he was for the nuances of ritual and ceremony, while his sister was lavished with praise since somebody had to carry on the family name. Naoto wouldn't have minded if it didn't include constant reminders of what he should be doing and how disappointing of a son he was. As if the kami themselves were disappointed in him too, strange misfortune began following Naoto in his late teens. Nothing explicit enough to cause alarm, but it seemed like the more he denied his heritage, the worse his string of bad luck got. He was pretty sure he hadn't gotten a positive fortune on New Years in, well, years.

Naoto would've been content to leave it at that, had he not been (un)lucky enough to be assigned the envious task of cleaning out an old storage shed just off the shrine grounds. What should've been a banal, torturous task for the boy became instantly interesting when he toppled over a trunk of old linens and a voice of all things emerged from it. An old rag, tattered and mildewed to the point that it should've been thrown away, slithered out of the pile of fabric like a snake, rejoicing in the fact that a gifted individual had finally graced the shrine again and lamenting how foolish it was to not have an exorcist on hand for generations. The sudden contrast of himself being called a gifted exorcist while this serpentine towel dismissed his family as unfit to manage the shrine was so jarring that it halted whatever urge Naoto had to run away, and he found himself entranced by the creature's words. He wanted to know more. He wanted to be called special again. He wanted to run outside and rub the towel snake's words in his mother's face.

Unfortunately for Naoto, the praise did not last long. Kabi - as the rag introduced itself - found Naoto's incessant questioning while he explained the reality of the supernatural grating, and what started as a wise teacher imparting wisdom on a student quickly became a tyrant barking orders at his newest soldier. The green-haired boy was hardly the hunter Kabi had hoped for during his long slumber, but he was yet young and thus malleable.

Naoto's first foray into limbo was at the behest of a demanding taskmaster, and he feared that his new 'sacred duty' would quickly become as much of an unpleasant shadow looming over him as his old one. Only the novelty of the situation kept him distracted from that uncomfortable truth. (He kinda wanted to see what a ghost looked like now that he knew they were real.) The thought perished as soon as Naoto loosed his new pet dragon on the hunched over figure that hissed at his approach. He knew at once, this was his purpose. Kabi said he was born for it - something he'd heard before - but as the last of the spirit's lingering essence faded, Naoto found success where his parents' expectations had been met only with failure. He emerged back into the real world Kabi's dutiful disciple, eager to grow as a hunter. Or at least as dutiful as his attention span allowed, much to Kabi's chagrin.

Likes:

• Attention.
• Easygoing people.
• Doing stupid things with friends. The more ill-conceived, the better.
• Tempura.
• Lowbrow humor.
• Anyone willing to patiently teach his dumb ass math.

Dislikes:

• Having to sit still.
• His unintentional involvement in his family's legacy.
• Kabi's smell.
• Doing anything slowly.
• Pessimists.
• Criticism from women. (They're just a proxy for his mother)
• Optometrists.

Fears:

• His parents finding out about the whole 'hunter' thing.
• Being trapped in monotony.

Other: Naoto has a very tenuous conception of personal space when he’s excited.

---

Tsukumogami

Name: Kabi

Item: Moldy Kitchen Rag (Shiro-Uneri)

Appearance:

Appearance

Personality: The August and Most Puissant Kabi-sama considers himself a noble dragon of regal bearing, and expects reverence befitting his station. This would be a bit more convincing if he wasn't a smelly towel. To make matters worse, His Celestial Majesty must occupy his time babysitting his hunter, lest the poor fool wander off in the middle of his duty most sacred. Kabi usually comes off as a crotchety old man and tends to nag a lot, especially to Naoto, though his ire can be assuaged by feeding his ego. For all his pomp, Kabi takes his duty very seriously, and once an onryo catches his notice, he will entertain no distractions - for himself or Naoto - until it has been cleansed.

Other: Though Kabi finds Naoto lacking compared to the hunter he'd bonded with in the past, he learned very quickly, in all his wisdom and splendor, that verbally measuring the boy unfavorably to them was a quick way to lose his attention, and thus politely refrains from such comparisons.

Anime: World Trigger (Best combat in shounen, hands down)

Sorry I'm late, was busier than expected last week.

Onryo Hunters - A ghost-battling magical girl/boy RP

I think I'm going with a mirror for the record.

Onryo Hunters - A ghost-battling magical girl/boy RP

I’m like tentatively interested provided I can think up a character concept

The Shattering of Aegis

---

The name for what he evidently was meant nothing to him, but Ceolfric appreciated it all the same. It was much less of a mouthful than the grandiose speech he usually gave when asked - and presumably far less incriminating under the laws of this land. Not that it would apparently matter to the Bounty House, if they kept with the oh-so-enlightened Verazian sensibilities of their secretary. Ceolfric was ready to tune out the rest of the conversation when his attention was drawn toward the stairs by a sudden clapping. Some overconfident runt of a woman insulted her way across the room, only catching Ceolfric's eyes for long enough to size her up before he turned his gaze back to Aleka in disinterest. He couldn't say he disagreed with her dismissal of Cerric's flamboyancy, but the men of civilized lands must be soft indeed if a woman like that could get away with speaking so boldly in what Ceolfric could only assume was a regular occurance, judging by the elf's reaction.

Cerric's warning went in one ear and out the other; Freckles and Lilann seemed to have crossed her just by existing, and he'd looked upon far mightier warriors than a child-sized telekinetic without fear. If she intended to strangle him with his own clothes, he had no qualms about bludgeoning her to death in the nude, quite frankly. The elf's second statement was far more interesting. Lord Mystralath was the proprietor of the House, as far as Ceolfric was aware, which meant he was only man whose opinion mattered. A whole batch of Aetherborn at once would likely draw his eye, and none of the others had experience that sounded particularly useful to the profession. They'd serve to make the bandit look better, if nothing else.

Not the worst introduction he could hope for, all things considered. He only had to hope his lordship's temperament was more agreeable than the Lady Silventria. Or, gods forbid, she spoke the way she did because he was in a dalliance with the little gremlin.

But that was a matter for later, and the teenager daudling around Aleka's desk didn't interest him in the slightest. The two Tainted, however, did. For a couple of supposed demonspawn, they were a far cry from their progenitors - far too little malice in their tone when they discussed Aeowyn. The fearsome Ceolfric Demonkin felt no kinship with them at all; he'd parted someone's tongue from their mouth for lesser insults. Granted, the stakes in a spat between two Aetherborn were a bit higher than one between mere men. At least Lilann had a pair of metaphorical testicles, which he'd have assumed she took from Kyreth were he not far too tall to have been a eunuch. Nevertheless, Ceolfric hovered closer to where they were seated and loomed over them with a hand resting casually on his hip, pinky barely brushing Goredrinker's crossguard.

"She seems a bit too self-important to waste her time on an entertainer of drunkards and a fence-mender anyway, Aetherborn or not." He glanced to Kyreth pointedly upon his mention of Aetherborn, trying to gauge whether he was truly ignorant or just a bad liar. "I think you're in the clear, if you're not feeling particularly retributive."

---

@Mcmolly@Obscene Symphony