=>[MINI-META] The Decaying North Outgrowth

[Micillia]

Static Charge

Relief! The blueblood was free! Its not that Kursha was heavy, really, he just had a lot to say, and wiggled a lot too. Static really worried about the greenblood's blood loss when he insisted on not staying still in the least. Flydra had Kursha now tho, so he could do other things. "Um, Garand, could you help me set up the sensor thing?" Static said, he winced as he pulled it out of the bag he had been carrying it in.

When both the blueblood boys were busy setting up the contraption, Static took the opportunity to whisper to Garand. "Hey, are you okay?" Static looked over his shoulder to make sure Scorpa or anyone else was not listening in. "Scorpa sure seems interested in you..." He paused. Was offering help too much? Too forward? "Do you, um, do you want backup or....?"  

[Sypon]

The damp smell of the ocean was downright oppressive. Salt clung to every surface. The thick breeze blowing in from the shattered windows helped little. In fact, the wind seemed to be increasing. In no time at all, a full hurricane had manifested in the dining block. Thick walls of mist thrashed the perimeter of the room. The eye of the storm sat at the center of the room, leaving it relatively calm in the area surrounding the array of items.

Thunder boomed over the wail of the wind. No. It was laughter.

”Now doesn’t this bring back ME̶M͡O҉͞R̛̀͜I͝È̀S!?”

The broad form of Epratt Kewrei took shape among the whipping wind. He was more translucent than the walls of the storm his summoning had concocted. The whites of his eyes lit his glasses up like lighthouse beacons.

”You’ve gathered my belongings! How wonderful!” Epratt’s voice continued to roar over the manufactured winds, though his expression had turned somewhat solemn. His apparition’s gloved hands traced over the real thing. ”I lived a long life...”

For a moment it seemed Epratt had trailed off entirely, but his attention was recaptured by the audience. The winds picked up in response as he straightened to his full height. ”Of course you must be champing at the bit to hear of my great many sweeps of experience! Gather ‘round, children! Let this old orphaner guide the youth of Alternia to a bright and gallant future!”

Epratt Kewrei then launched into a personal anecdote. And then another. And another. By either the force of the wind, or spectral aura, or the nature of the stories themselves it becomes impossible to focus. The scenario is hypnotic, and the atmosphere crushing. Attempts to leave are met with an ominous sparkle from the storm itself. It appears the wind has picked up the shards of glass left over from the dining block.

Quote:

Epratt hasn't changed much. You are welcome to try to interact or wait him out.

 

[ImaginationsParadise]

"Oh!" Dale exclaimed. This seemed.... dangerous. Really dangerous. Oh well, while they waited for the storm to stop or at least until the ghost stopped it. The stories were great though! Really cool and daring, this troll lived a thrilling life! Were all seadwellers like this?

"Hi mister ghost sir! I really liked your stories so far, they are dy-no-mite. No, they are groovy!" Even if she got a headache by the tenth anecdote. "I really want to know what, like, what's the deal with the whale ammo and like, what's it like to shoot things!" She beamed. "When I grow up, I wanna have a real gun to shoot things with it and, and stuff."  

[seekingCylem]

Dalema and Garand managed to catch Epratt between storites. It took a moment before the seadweller noticed he was being spoken over. A look of cool irritation crossed his translucent features before he recognized the nature of the questions. His demeanor brightened and the winds died down so as to better hear the conversation.

”Ah, an enthusiast!” Epratt's voice ran over with the tone of an adult humoring a child. He grinned with all his teeth at Garand, though. ”And a highblood at that! Yes, yes, you may be a landdweller, but the Empire could always use more potential future orphaners. And those Orphaners had better be equipped with the finest tools!”

Epratt drifted lower as if descending a staircase. Blank eyes inspected the gun at Garand's side. ”Well now if this isn't a familiar sight... This piece looks like it's seen better nights, but I'm confident it will serve better in your possession than Awassi's, young man.” Epratt sighed wistfully. ”Awassi was always a bright and talented young thing, but they unfortunately lacked an eye for the finer weapons trollkind had to offer.”

Epratt turned back to Garand with a flourish. A wide palm clapped the young blueblood's shoulder... or at least, Epratt made the gesture of such. Rather than physical contact there was a brief flash of white and Garand's shoulder was enveloped in an icy chill. If the seadweller noticed anything out of place, he didn't show it. Epratt's hands were already back at his sides.

”You should look into the work of my good friend Donder Ingole. Talented young man. At least the last I checked. I'm not yet entirely sure how much time has passed since I last saw the light of the moons. They were trained in their craft by their late moirail--bubbles rest their soul. They were quite a bit older, but they themselves were learned in the art of smithing from the works left behind by their very own ancestor. Imagine that! Truly their pieces evoked a regality from a bygone era. If you want antiques restored properly, you'll speak with Sir Ingole and no one else! Tell him Epratt Kewrei sent you! Advertising from beyond the Veil! He'll owe me quite a bit for that level of brand loyalty! Perhaps he'll let me bequeath my discount postmortem.”

Epratt laughed long and loud and for no particular reason. The sound was especially loud over the sound of the dying wind, though the hurricane continued to whip stinging saltwater around the room.

”And yes, the ammunition! Like moirails the gun and the ammo are but a fraction their use without each other.” Epratt chuckled fondly at his own simile. ”The whale ammo is exactly as the name implies. Harpoons are classic. Refined tools for a refined people of the sea. If you've got prey waiting for you beneath the waves, a harpoon will hardly do you wrong. Skywhales, however, are cheating bastards.” Epratt harrumphed through his mustache. ”Gunpowder will do little underwater, but it will solve problems most anywhere else. If skywhales take to the air, you're better off just blasting them with the biggest shells you've got. More muss, but less fuss. Easier to tow a carcass that big in pieces anyway. Gl'bgolyb is hardly picky about the state of the meat she consumes so long as it bleeds rainbow.”

Epratt seemed oddly wistful about the conversation.  

[Sypon]

"There's been an attack in the East Outgrowth - Officer is reported to be attacking friendlies alongside the subject; all combat-capable units make your way to the East Outgrowth. If it's safe to do so, disengage."

The communicator clicked off.  

[Doutei]

As the storm raged around them, Scorpa's eyes swirled- unable to focus. She considered herself a chatty troll, super-talkative, but even she recognized she had nothing on Epratt. He had an unfair advantage over her in that she was required to stop for air from time to time. In death there was no need, apparently.

Well that was one thing to look forward to.

"Augh, my head." The yellowblood winced, a headache forming from all of the activity and general inability to think. She was close to just knocking herself out to get out of this when the communicator sounded and her veins went cold. An officer was attacking civilians?

"What the ********! We gotta go!" Scorpa jumped to her feet, turning to the door. Oh crap the storm- right! How were they going to get out of here and help?

"Sir, please let us out! Before there's more blood!" Scorpa asked Epratt with a tense urgency in her eyes.  

[Yamashii]

Epratt's voice was loud and never ending. It was impressive that it somehow still managed to carry over the sound of the hurricane whirling around them in this very room. Flydra felt like she was going to go mad if this kept up for too long. Raising a hand, she tried to get his attention to get a break in the conversation. Could you call it a conversation if only one party talked? Hmm.

The alert from Glamis cut through the noise and Flydra frowned. With the giant storm whirling around them, it was going to be very difficult to respond to the summons. Especially with some of the officers present injured. The threat of glass and lightning were not lost on them.

"Epratt Kewrei, we must respond to this emergency. Please allow the officers through your storm while the remaining guests listen to your stories." She patted a hand on Garand's shoulder to sacrifice him to stay behind to the endless avalanche of anecdotes.

"Once the situation is handled, we will return to hear more of your incredible adventures." Negotiation was a good tactic to start with before they did anything to provoke the ghost and so she followed Scorpa's example. Her moirail was always so clever, even if she was not the most eloquent.  

[Micillia]

Static Charge

Static turned to the exit, his plumpbiscuit beating in his ears. They needed to move, anyone that was not injured needed to move at least. The blueblood debated going through the shards of glass, but he wasn't stupid. He had already lost too much blood. No he tried to maneuver his way out safely, tried to.  

[Green Minuet]

Captain Kursha Vidari

“Sorry to cut this short, old man,” he said, loading the gun. He clicked off the safety. “I gotta go kill a subordinate. You know how it goes. Duty calls. Don't hold your breath while I'm gone.”

With that, he dove into the shards of glass. Flydra could fix it later. Probably.  

[seekingCylem]

Another interruption. This one wasn't pertinent to any of Epratt's stories either. His mustache turned down around his exposed fangs. He was about to ignore it. It wasn't as though such matters concerned him anymore, dead as he was. Kursha had already made his escape. Truly a go-getter, that one. However, Scorpa spoke up to Epratt directly.

Even in her harried state, the yellowblood had the tact to address Epratt with respect. He hummed into the wind. "I suppose I can't fault you youths on your sense of duty. I must always respect the call of the hunt." Epratt was sincere despite his grumbling. The lowblood had passion, but the midblood could negotiate.

"Very well. Let it be known that even after death, Esteemed Orphaner Epratt Kewrei was a troll dedicated to his people."

Epratt's spectral form flashed with static. The winds began to die down. Harsh splashes rippled around the party in a ring as glass shards and other debris began to fall from the rafters. Epratt opened his arms and mouth to speak again when he flickered and spasmed once more. Epratt didn't seem to notice the delay.

"Wonderful! Gl'bspeed on your endeavors! I am looking forwar̡d͘ t̷o͜ wat͡c̷h͞ín͝g̵ ̧t̡̧͝h̨̛͞é͢ Ṕ̢̠̫̤͚̦̗̱́ͅE̡҉̯͈̤͖̩ͅR̀҉̢̣͔̯̺̙̖̦F̨̲̤̺̰̗͉O̙̣̙̲̻͉̦̙͘R̸̫͍̮̩͎̜̲M̨̩̜̝̗̼̖̖͢͝A͏̫̟͝N̡̻͞C̩̮͙̼͓̼̙̫E̵͉̻͈̳͘͠.̩̞̭͇̕"

Epratt's ghost strobed at a blinding pace. When he stopped, what little color he'd possessed had drained from his aura. His face was hollow.

Then he was gone.