escordvi | Open log for MANTA quests (June)

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emet-selch

Open log for MANTA quests (June)

Who: Emet-Selch and YOU
Status: Open
Where: See individual prompts
What: Busy old man keeping himself occupied for the month
Warnings: Maybe light horror with Tara-Tam Deepcroft because, well, undead. Also some mutilation and burning of an NPC in Eggscort Duty.

(Will match tag format)

1. Glory in the Hole (General MANTA 4pts)

Emet-Selch isn't a superstitious sort. However, he acknowledges that sometimes the simple reassurance of having a 'good luck' token can soothe nerves in times of crisis. It's less about the token itself and more about what it represents to those who look upon it. A man who might freeze up and wail about the coming end can demonstrate astonishing fortitude if they but believe wholeheartedly in the blessing of their little trinket.

So, as much as he wants to roll his eyes, he focuses on the glass-blowing instructions being given - both about how to actually blow glass as well as inject one's 'spirit essence' into it - and puts forth a decent attempt at making some glass ornaments for himself (and his crew; not that he'll admit to it directly).

The first is meant to be a simple orb...but he turns it unevenly and it ends up drooping sadly to one side. Emet-Selch is initially annoyed, until the instructor comes over to help him cut it off and comments about how much it resembles a human heart. Dissatisfied with the implications of that, he tries again and this time produces a lumpier shape. Like a bunch of grapes.

"Why bother to learn how to blow glass if these take form from one's essence?" he wonders aloud to the person next to him.

2. A Stink to Remember (General MANTA 4pts)

Per his network post, Emet-Selch is helping unfortunate souls who have become victims to the not-morbol's foul breath. He usually waits until the creature has moved on before coming in to assist, but perhaps a particular morbol is a little too ornery and requires...direct intervention.

a) The stinky creature is gone and Emet steps in to help ease the effects of its breath with curative magic.
b) The stinky creature is trying to go for the kill and Emet has to blast fire in its figurative face.
c) ??? Create your own funny scenario

3. Tara-Tam Deepcroft (Hard) (Paladin MANTA 4pts)

The sound of a woman weeping echoes softly off the walls of the deepcroft. Emet-Selch tilts his head, trying to pinpoint the origin of the sound. He had tried using his Soulsight earlier but with so many spirits adrift that had proven less than helpful. In fact, they're becoming a little bit of a bother, brushing against him and whispering in a way only someone with an affinity for the dead, like him, can hear.

"I cannot help you right now," he says with forced patience. "I need to find that woman. The one crying." A soul near his face bobs up and down. "If you will help me find her and do what needs to be done then I can come back and lay you all to rest."

The soul bobs again then lethargically starts to drift down a corridor. Emet-Selch sighs and gestures to whoever may be with him. "Come, this way."

4. Eggscort Duty (Paladin MANTA 4pts)

Near one of the fire serpent nests, a visceral scream rings out.

Emet-Selch flicks his hand and the pot of molten gold he had been trying to deliver to the nest rights itself. However, the pirate that had thought to ambush him and make off with it now cavorts on the ground, screaming as the gold burns their flesh and begins to harden.

"Since you like gold so much, take it with you," Emet-Selch says coldly. "I'm sure your fellows will enjoy peeling it off your skin piece by piece to sell."

5. Wildcard

For anything else! I'm open to other MANTA prompts or original prompts too. For Whale Memorial, I thought about having him sail out to take care of some actual whales rather than participate in the ceremony itself, if anyone would like to spot him preparing to sail off to do that. He can also help hunting down criminals in Closing Loose Ends.

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Despite being a paladin quest, how could Della not do something so irresistibly spooky? This kind of adventure was right up her alley! Besides, the mansion had a ghost butler, so she had experience with spirits! ... Kinda. Sorta. Ish.

Okay the short version is she has no plan and is going to make things up as she goes along. Always ends well.

But at least she's not completely hopeless - she's got her friend here! (yes, they're friends, she decided it, he has no say in this.) She lets out an impressed whistle.

"So you can chit-chat with ghosts? That something you could always do, or a talent you got here?"

"I have been able to see and hear them ever since I realised I could touch the Underworld," he replies. "I suppose spirits across worlds are not so very different from one another."

They all have their regrets and resentments. Reasons to linger beyond their time. Having this as a constant is somewhat comforting, to be honest.

"I can use their power as my own. I expect I shall need to when we meet this woman - she has attacked not a few Paladins already."

Della nods as she listens, hands in her pockets as she follows him.

"So you're the perfect person for this quest! Like it was perfectly designed for you!"

He looks mildly embarrassed by the praise.

"I...suppose. But if this woman is visible to the common eye, I imagine anyone could speak with her."

The bobbing spirit takes them left down an unlit corridor. He holds up a hand and conjures a glowing ball tinted dark orange to light the way. The weeping is louder now...

He lowers his voice a little. "So why did you volunteer for such a dangerous quest?"

"Cause it sounded like fun!" Della at least has the sense to lower her voice just as he did, even if she does seem to be treating this whole deal like a day at an amusement park.

"We do this kinda stuff all the time back home. Adventure is in my blood... and we have a ghost 'haunting' the family mansion, so I'm not easily spooked by spirits."

He has to chuckle wryly at that. "'Adventure', hmm? I would not call this an adventure so much as--"

Movement just beyond his circle of light. He thrusts out a hand as a ghost lunges at them from a sarcophagus. There's a loud thrum of white, burning light from his palm - Holy - and the ghost shrieks as it backs into the darkness again.

Their ghostly guide seems to have vanished.

The moment something started to fly at them, Della suddenly whipped out a sword from her belt, ready to strike - in hindsight, it might not have done anything, since it was a spirit, but at least it showed she wasn't just a lunatic. She was trained, prepared, and ready to fight and protect.

Her shoulders lowered and she let out a sigh of relief that he managed to subdue it and not get harmed. "... Looks like we're on our own from here out."

Oops. He lowers his hand, chagrined.

"I...did not mean to scare our guide away. I apologise." Sadly Holy does not care who or what is in the vicinity when used.

Emet-Selch pauses, listening. "...The crying has stopped," he says uneasily.

"Hey, what's done is done." No need to apologize, life happens. But she has to admit, the silence is eerie.

"But yeah, I don't think the sobbing stopping means our target suddenly cheered up... let's keep our guard up." As such, she's keeping the blade out, slowly looking around.

Emet-Selch attempts to look beyond mortal sight again, despite knowing a chaotic mess of spirits and souls await. Their immediate surroundings are clear thanks to his spell. But what is that brighter mass of lesser souls drifting closer to Della--?

His eyes widen and he snaps out, "In front of you!"

The weeping ghost lunges forward, scattering the smaller souls it had been hiding behind.

Here we go - !

Maybe you could escape ghosts the same way you stopped being on fire - stop, drop, and roll! Della hits the floor and rolls - she's not taking the chance at being possessed or worse if she can help it! She then sits up, pointing her sword at her would-be attacker.

"So you're the one who's in over their head!" Always time for a good pun. Or a bad one, really.

Emet-Selch barely suppresses a snort. Thankfully, the ghost isn't quite so quick as to take advantage of his moment of vulnerability. But she does point a finger at him and wail.

"A head... I need his head...!"

Ah. Right. He's the only living man here right now.

"I'd like to keep my head, thank you--" He thrusts out his hands to shield himself right as the weeping ghost tries to get past Della to lunge for him.

Physical objects can't hurt a ghost, but what about magic? Time to test out some theories.

"You're not touching a hair on his head, not if I can help it!"

Out of her satchel, she whips out the Elemental Flintlock she'd gotten from those handy rewards - it could shoot out random elemental energy, so she began to fire and hope for the best!

The ghost screeches. Each shot bursts against her spiritual essence. She focuses on Della now, eyes glowing malevolent green even as they continue to weep incandescent tears.

"If you're going to stop me then I'll separate you as well!!"

The ghost manifests some kind of hand sickle. One that would be perfect for cutting people's heads off.

Emet-Selch, not wanting to draw attention by snapping his fingers, silently starts forming sigils for protective magic for Della.

Out of the corner of her eye, Della sees Emet-Selch "working". She smirks, not 100% understanding what he's doing, but it gives her confidence. He's the one that can stop this spirit, so she's got to protect him - so that means keeping the spirit's attention! And if there's anything she knows how to do, it's be an annoying distraction! You do your thing, man!

"Flattering, really, but I already lost a limb once in this lifetime." With a twirl of her pistol, she ducks, rolls, fires again. "Not really looking forward to the world's closest haircut." Fire, fire, fire!

If he were simply attacking, there would be no need for this subterfuge. He can realise nearly any effect he wants with a mere thought, but these simple gestures - much like the snap of his fingers - focus him on the end result and produce far less error.

Della may or may not feel something comforting settling over her as she attacks the ghostly maiden. It will soften the pain of any injury received. The ghost, wiser now to the effects of Della's pistol, does not make it easy for her to hit her mark again. The sickle slashes forward yet carves only air. Ear-splitting screeches ring out whenever a shot punches through, scattering lesser souls in a panic. But Della's plan is working: the ghost is entirely focused on the obstacle in front of them instead of Emet-Selch.

"Rrrgh! Stop moving!" Shwing! "You annoying insect!"

She does feel the additional sense of comfort, and it makes her confidence grow - they've totally got this! This ghost is totally busted! Dodge, fire, dodge, fire - and she has no issues if she winds up missing. The only concern she has now is keeping Emet-Selch safe, no matter what.

"Wow, did being dead ruin your eyesight? I'm obviously a duck - and I gotta live up to the namesake!"

Get it. Because she keeps ducking. Emet if you let her get hurt over that we'd all understand.

Okay. He does roll his eyes at that terrible pun. But he doesn't let himself fully enjoy it just yet. He has to concentrate on forming this spell to (at least temporarily) banish the spirit from this plane. She isn't likely to leave anyone alone to search for her partner's missing head otherwise.

She would notice if he simply started channelling aether for it so he has to sustain the incomplete form without activating it. Which he is nearly done with thanks to her effort.

Just another few seconds and--

"Get down!" he barks. His finger closes the design and magic surges through. Assuming Della does indeed duck or dodge, a bright, sustained light blinds all in the vicinity. The ghost screams.

As her scream fades, so too does Emet-Selch's spell. Leaving a ringing in their ears and an empty corridor.

Stop drop and roll! She hits the floor, no questions asked! The light is so bright it blinds her eyes, so she has to close them for a bit.

She stays where she is, not wanting to risk messing anything up, eyes still closed.

"... Are we good?"

He can barely see himself after unleashing that spell. White spots dance before his retinas, and it takes a while before he can check their surroundings for any trace of that weeping ghost.

"...Aye, I think she's gone. At the very least, she won't be troubling anyone for a little while." Maybe a few days or so.

He extends a hand to help Della up. "Your sharpshooting was admirable. Thank you for distracting her for me."

With the confirmation things were safe, Della stood back up - it took a bit longer than it would most folks, due to her metal leg - but once she was up, she was all smiles.

"Hey, we're partners! It's what I was made to do! This sorta thing is my bread and butter back home - but you and I make a dream team!"

She holds up a hand for a high-five.

He...looks at that upraised hand in confusion. It's fair to say that no-one has offered this man a high-five at any point in his long, long, long life.

That said, he can tell she's waiting for him to respond. So he...lifts his own hand the same way? But does he touch her hand or not?? It feels like he should. Otherwise this would just be an awkward wave.

(At this point she's probably already gone for the high-five herself.)

You bet she has - with a hale and hearty SLAP! She's used to teaching people this.

"It's called a high-five!" She answers the unasked question. "A way of saying congrats, or letting someone know you agree! Like, 'way to go, dude!'"

"Ah. I see..." ~~He is feeling his age right now.~~

There'll be time later to ponder that - right now, Emet-Selch needs to address these other, lesser spirits.

"...Why don't you help me lay these other souls to rest before we leave? It will clear the way for others should that head-seeking maiden return."

"Sure thing!" Della chirps without any hesitation. Why let a good day end early? "Lead the way! You're the expert, so I'll always follow your lead! Whenever there's a ghost problem, I know who I'm gunna call!"

Especially if there's something strange in her neighborhood.

A small huff - amusement? - before he straightens and starts looking around. "Mayhap I should have established a business as an exorcist instead," he offers in jest.

Beckoning for her to follow, he'll lead the way through some corridors to where some spirits have congregated, hiding from their battle with the maiden's ghost. After conferring for a short time, he turns back to her.

"An easy enough request: their crypts have been disturbed from all the people coming in and out and they cannot rest unless they have been put right."

"Sounds about standard ghost-fare." Disturb ye grave, get ye haunted. No problem there.

"So, a simple clean up and making things the way they once were? Consider it done.... but, man, why does EVERY single ghost use the word 'disturbed'? They gotta expand their vocabulary. Maybe they should've been buried with a thesaurus."

... She could be serious about that.

He purses his lips, clearly debating whether to say something. After a moment of internal struggle, he speaks.

"More precisely, what they said was more akin to," - and here he puts on an appropriate voice - "'We served long and loyally and then you whelps come and trample us during our deserved rest?! Fix our graves or we'll haunt you until you do!'"

Della blinks... and then begins laughing, a full on belly-laugh.

"That was a great ghoulish impression! Of course they sounded like that! Always so overly dramatic!"

He shrugs and rolls his eyes. "Well, this is a crypt for the Paladins," he says tiredly.

Of course some of them are going to be pompous. Ahem. Anyway--

"The sooner we finish, the sooner we can leave this gloomy place. Try to be thorough; I don't want to have to redo our work because they're dissatisfied."

"Of course! We don't want to leave anything half-finished or lazily done!" She slaps a hand to her chest.

"I'm not leaving your side until everyone is satisfied, the alive and the dead!"

Is it her imagination or did his mouth twitch into a faint smile briefly? He turns aside before she can check.

"I suppose many hands make light work. Let's begin over there."

With a lazy wave over his shoulder to the irritable spirits, he will step away to begin from the furthest graves with the aim of slowly working their way back.

Edited 2025-08-14 05:41 (UTC)

[So. When he set out? Alfyn had no intention of crossing paths with a salivating stinking walking biting plant. None whatsoever.

What he planned to do was forage. Herbs, mostly - though he's got his hands on a couple new potion recipes that use crushed-up shells, and he means to investigate that too - but also any ripe fruit he can find, just because. And he's not one to venture into the trees with no backup or without an eye for danger.

The damn thing was downwind, and came through the undergrowth astonishingly fast. And Alfyn did his best. For a while he held his own, able to subdue its activity with ice spells and using the natural cover of forest ground and roots to prevent anything too toxic from hitting him. The twisted vine that ultimately took him down was not part of the creature; he takes the edge of a horrific blast of breath to the face, and the world goes a little foggy at the edges.

He remembers this, though. Remembers there's someone he can call, but it's gonna be a hard time doing that with the thing still thrashing around nearby - probably still looking for him. It takes some real doing, looking at anything in the dim forest light is becoming a challenge, but he manages a text message to Emet-Selch instead:]

hhel pits a badplant

[ Typing back won't help, he knows. Their noxious breath blinds the victim (amongst other things). Alfyn will hear his voice in reply as he stands, preparing to head out-- ]

Where are you?

[Typing back wouldn't have been ideal. Alfyn is fast losing any remaining useful vision, the world a blur of shadows that are still too bright. Trying not to freak out about it.]

Not too far outta-

[He chokes a bit on the horrible smell, and makes a lucky roll away from being grabbed by a tentacle. The roll also takes him into some undergrowth.]

Can I make this thing tell ya somehow?

['This thing' being. The shellphone. He's whisper-hissing at it.]

Tell me which island or leviathan and I will find you.

[ He doesn't need any more than that to locate someone he has met before. Especially not someone for whose soul he has taken a good, long look at.

With his ability to teleport, he'll be there in but a few seconds. ]

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Open log for MANTA quests (June)

Tara-Tam Deepcroft

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brainfarted woops

A Stink To Remember

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