Miren Goitia's page

”Heh. It sounds like there will be more where that came from. He has work for us. And regular pay.” Nace goes over the highlights of the discussion.

Miren's only comment during Nate's exposition is a garbled "Uh-buh" as she leans back against the rental. Her mind is whirling at the thought of all that money and what on earth she should do with it. None of the subsequent conversation really registers since there's no brain bandwidth remaining for her ears.

As the evening grows quiet, she manages to blurt "New Orleans?" into the conversational void. "But things are happening here."

Miren leans back against her little rental and laughs her surprisingly deep, rich belly laugh at Coyote's suggestions. "Well, I found it in debris in the graveyard, so it didn't seem terribly special to anyone, not that I could tell. I've showered since then, but I suppose handling it again wasn't too smart. I'll be sure to wash up before I eat."

She watches Nace's SUV pull in and smiles as the cop and the dark woman approached. "Hey. A little bird told me that it wasn't a trap and that you made a hundred dollars. You bring my cut?" she drawls.

"Graveyard. Might have belonged to a dead guy, might have been left by a fan. GG something, causing a ruckus in the afterlife."

Spirit Miren scrunches up her face in thought. "Mighta been a scorpion, but without the stinger... maybe? And big. It was weird. Who eats those?"

"I might, if it were cooked," Miren mumbles as her stomach growls. "Oh, hey," she scrunches a finger around in the watch pocket of her jeans, scooping out a button. "Maybe I should take a look at this. We've been a little busy. Best look at it before things get busy again."

It's the button from the graveyard, engraved with the anarchy symbol. Miren cups it in her palm and drifts off in contemplation of the item.

Appraise(psychometry unlock): 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (10) + 3 = 13
Psychometry Will save, if needed: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (6) + 5 = 11

Oh well. Burning up those low rolls, at least.

Miren's gaze goes unfocused for a moment. "They're coming back. No trap at Jonathan's."

Oh, just show yourself and tell us what happened.

Little Miren appears between Coyote and Miren. "I don't know. They got a hundred dollars or something. The dark lady ate a spider. It cracked really loud. I don't know. It was booooring."

"I was thinking a different kind of 'preying'. I mean, what do prey animals do when a predator comes around?" She ticks off possibilities on her fingers. "Run faster than the bear or than your herd-mates. Disguise yourself to look like another predator. Disguise yourself to look like the environment. Become bad-tasting or even toxic so the predator spits you out. Band together to defend the group. Be big enough to stomp the baddie. If you're smart enough, turn the tables and trap the predator."

She shrugs, leaning back against her rental car and drumming her fingers nervously on the metal shell. "The spirit who spoke to me said we're not big or bad enough to handle a wendigo. It's probably safe to make that assumption about these psychic vampires." She looks at the sky, pondering. "I mean, I've heard of energy vampires, in terms of toxic people. Is that what we're talking about? Because those people are awful."

"Don't think shooting at one would do much anyway. I dunno. Like I said, above my pay grade. Might have to meditate on that one for a while, see if I can come up with some kind of bright idea..."

"Any way to distinguish them from normal people, without looking past the normal world?" Miren asks. "I can think of lots of tactics to use against a vampire. Problem is, I don't know how to make any of them actually work."

"That sounds a lot like what was going on at Santa's village, but those things weren't human at all." Miran grimaces, remembering the creepiness. "Of course, that meant they could be destroyed without fear of the law stepping in. But we can't just go gunning down people in the street. I don't think the psychic vampire defense would fly in court."

"Are they dangerous? And what can we do about them? I mean, they're human, right?" Miren racks her brains, wondering what might protect from psychic vampires. Psychic vampires? I wish I were back home where the monsters were more familiar.

Knowledge(occult): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (14) + 6 = 20

SM: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (6) + 8 = 14
K(o): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (5) + 6 = 11 Would I know about the True Knot?

Miren struggles to maintain her newly cleansed serenity. "True Knot types? Is that what feels so... ugly? What are they?"

"You mean a giant Santa Claus-appearing spider monster thing that sucked the life energy out of children... slowly? I have no idea. Unless it was placed and bound there by something else in order to extract that energy. You know, like some ants do with aphids?" Miren frowns as she puts the sketchbook back.

"I admit, this makes me feel better about our sponsor. No matter what his intent, he may just be the means of drawing some of the right people here at the right time. Speaking of which, what drew you here?"

In answer, Miren pulls her sketchbook from her bag and sketches the mark she saw on the Santa Spider.

She wordlessly holds the sketchbook out to Coyote.

An ancient weariness washes across Miren's face, then is gone. "And we have been brought here in this time. This place is deep in lore. The wendigo caught Europeans here and was bound by a confederation of shamen, then released again by local farmers, as you know. I suppose it is our time to band together and settle whatever evil arises, though I was warned that we are not strong enough to face even a wendigo - yet." She peers curiously at Coyote. "Did your research show anything specific? Our sponsor here has quite the library in his mansion, though the librarian makes me uneasy. He gave permission for us to use it. Some tomes were quite old and some had power shining in them. Though we might be better served reading Lovecraft."

Miren will bring Coyote up to date on what they've done if he wants to know more, including the famous Santa's Village run-in and the weird symbol on the spider's abdomen, the visions in the woods near Adam's Pond, etc.

Miren notes the shaking hand even as she holds hers up palm-out. "None for me, thanks. Today's a fast day. Yesterday left me feeling... I don't know... grimy. Psychically." She sighs. "Even what little cleansing rituals I can put together here haven't helped. I don't know why. But something's up."

After about an hour of meditation, Miyuku goes through her regular stretching routine before getting dressed and checking in on Miren before breakfast.

Miren answers the door obviously pulled straight from sleep. "Is it that time already? I think I'll pass on breakfast and sleep in. Not feeling great today. The dark circles under her eyes speak to the need for more sleep.

She wakes late in the morning, in time to shower, dress, and consult with her fellow 'contractors' before they leave for the mansion. Left to her own devices, she pulls a pouch from her travel bag and carries it to the barn. Poking around, she discovers the abandoned forge.

"I will not disturb your home long," she says to the air. She unties the rolled pouch and digs her hand to the bottom. Pulling a few dried plant strands from the bottom, she sprinkles them on the forge, then touches it with thoughts of Heph and gratitude.

She slips from the barn and returns to the parking lot, considering. Finally, she drives into town looking for a New Age-y place, where she purchases an incense burner and some incense charcoal. Back at the inn, she parks in a remote corner of the lot, cracks the windows, lights the charcoal, and places more strands of the tobacco mix in the pouch onto the hot charcoal, letting the smoke fill the rental car and relaxing into a meditation of cleansing. With no pings of danger from her fellows, she remains there for the afternoon, until she grows chilly. The little burner has long since grown cold and the smoke has dissipated. She packs everything into her bag except the burner, and steps from the car to dump the charcoal into the weeds beyond the parking lot. She spots a lanky figure approaching the inn and raises a hand in greeting, then finishes packing the burner in her bag. She advances to meet Coyote.

"Hello." Her greeting is soft and serene. "It's good to see you." The lack of food and the medicine smoke have left her feeling light and free.

"Three rounds. Are we planning on twelve tonight, then?" Miren pokes the ring towards Coyote, sliding it along the table, before reaching for a full shot glass. "You said something about knowing dead languages - how does that pertain to the ring? And why is the diamond now red... reddish?"

Saluting Coyote with the shot glass and "Eskerriska!", Miren downs the whiskey, feeling her throat burn clean of some of the residual vapors of the evening's work. She sighs in contentment, as a few tense shoulder muscles beginning to loosen.

Miren digs in the watch pocket of her jeans and pulls out the ring, laying it on the table between them all. "I couldn't make it out, sorry."

"He can't be all bad, though. He's buying the first pitcher."

"I suspected that was what he was looking for," Miren says, "But there's danger in oversimplification, too. Now we know a potential weakness of our new companion. Something to watch out for."

"It can be many things, depending on what the person holding it needs." Miren smiles. "A non-answer, but true. For example, I've heard they're very useful for cleaning woodwind pads. So if you're a wind player with a sticky key, it's a quick fix for an annoying problem. If you're in the woods trying to start a fire, it might be good kindling. And so on."

Miren shrugs. "So, what does it mean to the person holding it now?"

"Maybe after food. I'm starved." Miren follows Miyuku into the noise and music.

Miren looks up and down the rolled-up streets. "It's the only thing lit up. Where else is there to go? I'm not carrying all this junk, though," she says in her usual quiet voice.

She puts the bulk of her gear into the car trunk, save for the Carhartt sling bag containing her sketch pad and pencils, wallet and cash, Tracphone, and Little Georgie. She dusts herself off and runs a comb through her black hair, making a ponytail instead of her usual braid. She hurries back into her jeans jacket and Stetson in the chill autumn night breeze, ready for some dinner. Reaching for power always makes her hungry.

Appraise with psychometry, I hope: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (11) + 3 = 14

-_-

I have psychometry 1/day, attached to Appraise.

I also have automatic writing to ask questions and Knowledge(occult) if those are any help.

Miren takes Sarah's ring and ponders it for a brief moment, then realizes Nate is correct. "Let's get out of here. We can figure out what to do with this when we're safer."

Miren sighs at the sound of sirens. "That's the problem with areas with good cell service. Someone's always ready to dial 9-1-1 at the slightest little thing."

She calls the child to her and moves to a point between the two corpses, closing her eyes and concentrating.

Casting detect psychic significance, looking for any objects on the corpses or nearby that might have an energy that would linger and possibly cause harm or recall them yet again.

"Not on me," she answers Coyote. "I can never remember where it's legal, so I skip it."

Miren calls the ghostly child to her side. We can do little against this, I think," she whispers to the child as she slides forward to touch Miyuku's shoulder.

King Solomon's Touch cure light: 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 1 = 6

Miren frowns at the newcomer's words and calls the spectral child to her side. She steps behind Nace and touches him while whispering tsisteel, and a faint glow flares around the lawman before vanishing entirely.

Move to directly west of Nace. Cast mage armor on Nace. Ghost Miren moves northwest of Miren. I think Nace is now at n4, so Miren will be at n5 and Phantom Miren will be at m4.

Init: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (12) + 2 = 14

Protection from evil should still be active. It was 20 rounds.

Miren says "It's just me, Miyuku," and touches Miyuku's shoulder.

King Solomon's Touch = cuure light: 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 1 = 2

The ghost child continues to slap at the undead thing.

incorporeal slam attack, flank: 1d20 + 3 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 3 + 2 = 11
dmg: 1d6 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 1 = 4

incorporeal slam attack, flank: 1d20 + 3 + 2 ⇒ (12) + 3 + 2 = 17
dmg: 1d6 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3

** spoiler omitted **...

Yeah, didn't think so. It was easier to include it than to look it up. <== Lazy.

"We have to help Miyuku," Miren directs the phantom child.

As it becomes obvious Miyuku is going to engage in melee, Miren murmurs words of blessing and touches the dark warrior. A faintly shining barrier springs up about a foot away from Miyuku.

Casting protection from evil on Miyuku, 2 minutes (20 rounds). Phantom moves to flank with Miyuku. Miyuku gains a +2 deflection bonus to AC and a +2 resistance bonus on saves. Both these bonuses apply against attacks made or effects created by evil creatures. The spell prevents bodily contact by evil summoned creatures. This causes the natural weapon attacks of such creatures to fail and the creatures to recoil if such attacks require touching the warded creature. Summoned creatures that are not evil are immune to this effect. The protection against contact by summoned creatures ends if the warded creature makes an attack against or tries to force the barrier against the blocked creature. Spell resistance can allow a creature to overcome this protection and touch the warded creature.

The transparent child moves forward with Muyuku, face distorted with terrible fear as she slaps at the undead body.

incorporeal slam attack, flank: 1d20 + 3 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 3 + 2 = 10
dmg: 1d6 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 1 = 2
incorporeal slam attack, flank: 1d20 + 3 + 2 ⇒ (14) + 3 + 2 = 19
dmg: 1d6 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 1 = 5
Horrifying strike if it hits and if the undead is subject to being shaken. Will DC 11 neg, shaken rounds: 1d4 ⇒ 1.

"It might be Daniel or Sarah Theroux, if a name can reach it," Miren chimes in. "We were looking into the mystery of their disappearance here."

When phantom Miren is unmanifested, she lives within Miren's consciousness; she is not in any way externalized. Miren's 'muttering to herself' is color text only. The phantom can be manifested as incorporeal or ectoplasmic, in which case it is observable.

How many? Just that one? Come help me, yázhí

Init: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (14) + 2 = 16

Miren's first action will be an etheric tether su action to manifest phantom Miren ectoplasmically.

Dead people... where the dark spots are? Are they like you? We can't see them unless they want? Miren murmurs back. Stay close...

Oops

Miren holds her breath as she listens.

Miren Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (1) + 8 = 9
Phantom Perception: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (15) + 0 = 15

"Feel free to help out, if you can manage being one of the good guys. Which is, after all, what we are."

Miren saunters more upwind of the cigarette smoke.

One corner of Mirim's mouth quirks up. "Guess we could call you Strider. Might have an honest reason for hiding yours, legit or not. Guess that makes Miyuku Sam."

Miren sighs softly under her hat brim. "I think... I think... that we are aware we're merely 'splashing around in the shallows' as our client put it. It's also dangerous to hunt predators when unfamiliar with their abilities. But I, at least, was put into the position of having a little knowledge about the odd things I can sense and see. I don't have enough for my purposes, though, and certainly far less than I want. For me, this is an eyes-open opportunity to learn more and maybe to help some people." She raises her head and looks Coyote in the eyes. "IAll of us recognize that there are far worse things than death in these worlds, though. We're at least aware of our ignorance. Which is why it's good to have a sponsor and comrades in the quest, not try to go it alone."

She turns dusky pink and lowers the barrier of her hat brim again, feeling that she's said too much.

Miren nods as if the cranky man had answered a question. "There are two sources of this goo in the water, too." She points out past the end of the pier.

Miren glances at the newcomer from under her hat brim. "As long as you are not the one making this stuff, we've got no quarrel with you, mister."

Watching him steadily, she ventures, "You a friend of Jonathan's? Or another of his contractors?"

"Tell me it's not Santa Claus," Miren mutters back. "Or Jeff Bezos, who I'm convinced is a wendigo."

Miren tugs the brim of her hat down to shadow her face, but continues studying the well, unconcerned with the newcomer - or at least confident in her friend's ability to handle one person.

*Yázhi, can you see anything I can't about this well?*

Miren's perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (12) + 8 = 20
phantom Miren's perception: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (13) + 0 = 13

Miren's will save: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (12) + 5 = 17
phantom Miren's will save: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 2 = 20

A slender, young, tanned woman looks out of place in the New England autumn, seeing as how she's wearing a ponytail under a weathered brown Stetson wool hat, a plaid shirt with a brown oilskin rancher's jacket over it, and faded and worn boot cut jeans with what looks like the square toe of actual cowboy boots poking out from beneath the frayed jeans bottom. A compact sling bag completes her outfit. Some stray wisps of black hair, too short for her ponytail, have settled into damp, curling tendrils around her almost absurdly beautiful face with odd gold eyes, looking almost as if a model's face had been photoshopped onto an ordinary body with worn utilitarian clothing.

As he sizes up the group, the woman shoves a couple of the wisps away from her eyes, hardly paying attention to her own actions. Her attention is focused on something in the common area between the semicircle of cabins. She stares fixedly at the thing and seems to be muttering to herself unconsciously.

Pierce the veil on the capped well.

"I... I'm sorry. I'm not being very informative if you're not looking in the beyond," Miren glances apologetically at Nace, obviously still shaken. "I don't know what it is. Black... stuff is bubbling up from two places off that pier. It seems very wrong."

"That's now, but maybe it's because of the past? Think we should go closer - like to the end of that pier - and look closer?"

*No!*

Don't worry, I'm not going to ask you to go into the water and look... but now that I think about it, that's not a bad idea...

*NO!*

Miren raises an arm and points to the water, in the general direction of a pier. "What... what is that?" Her hand trembles.

Miren also pauses to watch the familiar colors of home fade and shift to twilight shades of grey. The scent of water and vegetation hangs heavily in the air, strange and strong. Like Nace, she opens her perception to the world beyond and scans the shoreline.

Pierce the veil. Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (18) + 8 = 26

*Wait! Don't look! I don't want to see what the old man talked about.*

Miren shivered as some of the spirit child's fear bled into her own psyche. She breathed slowly and deeply to regain equilibrium.

We're looking for traces of the past, yázhi, not for something to battle. You heard him - that thing is too strong for us now. We won't try to fight it yet.

*I don't even want to SEE it.*

Miren tried to feel calm and reassuring. Anything we see will be pictures of the past. Don't worry.

"Did you see the spirit escape as well? I am curious when it happened and if it could relate to the drownings."

"No... no, it is not. This thing is old beyond imagining. It possessed one of the early explorers here and caused no end of trouble to the tribes. The tribe called for help from many others to finally bind the body and secure it here. But the... the wards they put up were ruined by someone modern who removed the anchor stones as ancient curiosities and was eventually joined with the dark spirit."

She stretches as if just awakening, breathing the crisp autumn air deeply before continuing. "We are warned to not attempt to confront this spirit. It is far stronger than we. But the shades of those who worked the original binding remain here, and will aid us - or any others - who can overcome this evil and bring it here to re-inter."

"Did you find anything at the top of this hill?" she asks Nate. "This is a place of power; I would be very surprised if you could not feel anything about it."