Dybbuk

Barael de Aere's page

6 posts. Alias of Governayle.


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Barael feels it again. The release. He stares across the rest of the bridge, and... doubts. It will only happen, again. I'll see them, then I'll get pulled away. It's like Scarwall's the cat, and I'm the... yeah. And it lets me up, only to stomp on me again.

He paces for what seems like an eternity. I... can't... I just can't do that again... it's not fair... Barael looks back at Scarwall, and his face draws into rage. Stop doing this to me!!! Stop letting me free, then ripping me back!!! I hope they destroy you utterly!!! You're a curse upon this land, and an abomination, and a blight...

In this moment, Barael feels something. He feels something. He... feels. Barael's eyes frown, then widen in slowly dawning understanding.

It's cold. Except for a not cold sensation, round his nethers.

Barael looks down at his feet, at the bridge, and sees... strands. He looks down at his hands, and sees the same strands, drawing his vision over his shoulder, towards the gatehouse. So many of them...

The pulling begins, each strand working in concert, gently at first, almost testing their anchoring on each tether. Barael's mouth opens in irritation, as his form starts to suffer the pins and needles of reviving nerve endings. As he acknowledges the pain as necessary, he sees the strands shimmering, weaving into the maps of his nerves, causing them to pulse with an ethereal light.

He smiles, as he's pulled away from the castle. This isn't you, is it, Scarwall? If this offends you, that you're denied even one spirit, then... excellent. It won't be the last. He manages to raise his arms in a rather obscene gesture, and he hears laughter bubbling up from his chest.

He seems to cross an event horizon, and the moment is lost to ultimate gravity. Spirit, strand, soul. Singularity.


Barael strains against it, to no avail. The pull is so strong. He lets out a last sound, as he realizes that the pull also comes from within, preventing him from uttering even a little moan.

It stops, once he is drawn halfway across the bridge. He marks the distance, recognizing the position as about the same location when he fled with the others.

It's not done. They'll come back. They will. Same way in, familiar to them, they'll pass across the bridge again. I'll get to see them again. No need to enter the castle again.

Barael paces the bridge, tests its limits, even going so far as to drift upwards, seeking to trace the diameter of the castle's influence. Given time, he tries to do so all along the circumference, until he arrives back at the bridge. His interest echoes hollowly. He turns back to the castle, considering.

What of the vortex? At least I wouldn't be alone...

Barael continues to wait, for now, on the bridge.


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Barael stares off at the gatehouse, willing himself to join the others. The chains root him, then... no longer. That's it!!! I did it!!! I only needed to be stronger in will!!!

He flies, swirling at first, like a leaf on the wind. He gains control of it, and starts to move more deliberately. It feels like I should be moving upwards. Right, Aroden? That's where you are, to go to? Up, right?

As he ascends, he revels in the feeling, the anticipation of where he's headed. If they only knew... wait... I can... tell them...!

Barael streaks downwards, towards the gatehouse.

....

He feels them before he sees them, but when he sees his body, he focuses first and foremost on it. He closes in, and stares at it, forgetting the others for the moment. He looks down on it, with what looks like nostalgia. Then he looks up and sees the others.

His eyes glisten translucently, as he turns to each party member. He begins to sound phonically. The tone starts low, and ascends in pitch. He realizes that he can increase in volume, and does so. The sound can only be construed as content. He moves to Dandi, and moves about her. He takes his hand, places it on his chest, then reaches to Dandi, 'touching' her chest as well. He looks at her, eyes upturned, reflecting...what? He smiles at her, tilting his head, then bringing it upright once more.

He starts to rise, then lowers. Rise, then lowers. And he smiles at the others, looking into each of their eyes, seeking understanding. His face looks upwards, and he closes his eyes, and he starts to ascend more deliberately. And doesn't lower again.


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You're.... Barael Garrett.... Those are.... your friends....

Barael follows the party, only to slow when the Vortex approaches. He cringes a little, then focuses hard as he sees smiles. Are those.... smiles....? He pauses, stops, watches. Then he pursues the party once again.

You're.... Barael.... Those are.... friends....

Almost midway across the bridge, his eyes fall away from his body. He struggles to remember, as his energy is split between thinking and moving away from the castle.

You.... are... Barrie....

He reaches out to hold Dandi's hand, forgetting that he won't feel anything. He stays out of her line of sight, remembering what he must have looked like at first, lashing out at her, and it.

Those are...

As he watches his hand about to close on hers, he's wrenched away, prevented from going any further.

family.


Barael watches Charlie take his body from Dandi, and he stops thrashing impotently, growing still. He looks back and forth between the living.

When he hears Briar suggest a raising, he nods his head, and tries to smile. The recent agony, however, takes time to wear off, leaving Barael's face an alien-like attempt at happiness.

Barael motions to them to keep moving, hands moving them as one would shoo children at play indoors, to play outside.

It isn't safe. The chains will find you. The chains will rend.


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Seeeeeee.... now.... in death.... you know what it is.... that you miss....

Looook.... see how she holds it.... your meat....

Barael floats above the party as they retreat. He reaches for his body, clawing at it at first, then raking at it more and more violently. His face draws long, as agony overtakes him.

Bluff to convey meaning: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (20) + 4 = 24

STOP IT!!! STOP CARRYING IT!!! I DON'T WANT YOU TO CARRY IT!!!

Barael's face becomes the very incarnation of hate. He begins swinging madly at both body and bearer.