Fellow Dead
1st Cylus, 723
"Perhaps we go to the market, I could cook us a wonderful meal" Liara spoke. The woman was, unfortunately, one of the two Irkall had found himself stuck with. They owned his necklace. Had he been alive he'd have slaughtered them for taking his belongings. But it was because of them he could travel, rather than being stuck in some home for the rest of his time as a ghost. They were his carriage. Besides, while he may never admit it, Irkall held no ire for the pair. When he returned to life that necklace would be his again. But they had done no wrong to him. Perhaps he saw a part of himself and Lizbeth in them.
It didn't mean he was going soft, however. They were a means to an end. That's all any person was to him now. Lizbeth had been the exception, a Mortal worth tolerating. She was his anchor to the humans and other beings of Idalos. Now, he had no desire to be a part of their societies. Their betrayals, the way they cheered at each others death just nights after laughing and drinking together. Mortals were a plague on this world. They schemed, formed societies and went to war with one another. In Irkall's short life he had seen countless betrayals. Nobles slandering one another behind their backs, poison given to his own love by an anonymous person, crowds cheering as their former friends burned alive.
It made him sick.
"I'll grab the coinpurse" Duvrin returned with a warm smile, heading out of the room as Irkall's ghost silently watched, unmaterialized and observing. They could not see him, they never knew he was here. For some time he planned on keeping it that way. They were his source of energy, they were his means of transportation. Freaking them out as a ghost could result in them running, him being alone. He'd starve and die without the energy. They were necessary.
After some time of scrambling for their belongings they left for town, leaving the necklace behind. They often wore it on special occasions or trips to the capital. People cared far more for that sort of embellishment in Raelia. Perhaps it was similar to the wealthier parts of Rynmere in that regard. But from what Irkall had gathered, the same was not true for the more untamed and wild areas of Melrath. They cared little for vanity. Part of him almost respected that about them. Almost.
Alone in their home, Irkall materialized, something he had practiced doing prior. A useful skill for a ghost. Sprouting a pair of tendrils had its uses, though he had yet to find any that were truly practical. Becoming solid was another benefit. It meant he could interact with the world again. Their home was simple enough, nothing like Irkall had grown up in or was used to. But he didn't mind it. Something about the simplicity made it desirable to a man that had seen overpampering his entire life. Simple was beautiful, it was quaint and comfortable. Never ruined by the Mortal desire to improve and better everything. Perhaps that was why he learned to tolerate Duvrin and Liara. They were simple, quiet folk. Not pompous or rude. Just themselves.
Two tendrils appeared out of his back, shimmering blue appendages that seemed to mimic the fog he had controlled in his life. One reached down to a nearby table as his head turned to watch, seeing the appendage pick up a small fork left for supper that night. Something about it never got old. There were benefits to being a ghost. More than anything, Irkall understood death like no Necromancer he had met prior could begin to imagine. Seeing the afterlife and spitting in the face of Death, telling him you would rather traverse Idalos in hopes of coming back. It was more than an accomplishment. It was spectacular. Power. While humans latched onto their money and swords and called it power, Irkall had defied death itself. They believed they were strong and powerful. But this was power.
"...Hello?"
Irkall's gaze shot immediately to the sound of the unfamiliar and afraid voice, tendril dropping the fork to the ground in a panic as both raised behind him, the Mortalborn looking. Across the room was a sight he had not expected to see here. A woman. Translucent, like him. It had been a long time since Irkall had seen another spirit. It was rare he travelled to the Beneath if he could help it. Other beings like him thrived in that place. While he was growing stronger now it didn't mean he wished to try his luck against something different. Pushing out of that plane of reality had proven hard enough.
The woman stood at 5 feet at the tallest, her hair was long and her eyes seemed sad. "I...I don't know where I am, I just got here. I was in this other place and I pushed through a barrier and now I'm here" she spoke in panic, seeming to hyperventilate as she did so. A habit she likely picked up as a Mortal, seeing as she was not alive and therefore did not need to breathe. Irkall's eyes narrowed as he looked on at this girl. What was another ghost doing here? Was she even a ghost? Spirits were prominent in this part of the world. It was the entire religion of this Immortal forsaken place. She looked around in fear and confusion before looking back to Irkall.
"Where am I?" she pleaded with him, the Mortalborn looking on in pause. After a moment of quiet he let his tendrils disappear. "Melrath" he spoke simply, voice showing his tension at the sudden arrival of this ghost. The girls eyes widened for a moment and she looked at Irkall as if he was insane. "That's impossible. No, I died. Vri asked me if I wanted to move on and I didn't know what to say, so I stayed. But I died, I remember it. This can't be Melrath. I was in this other place with ghosts and spirits for...so long. I...it's not possible."
Irkall rolled his eyes for a moment and remained materialized, stepping closer to the front of the house and pushing the door open. Once it was open the lush forests and cool air shone through, this new ghost girl taking a step forward to look. Her eyes widened and she looked out to the trees. Irkall contemplated his options while her back was turned. Could this be a trap? What if this was another ghost trying to bait him into trusting her? The emotions seemed real, at least as far as he could tell, but he was far from a good judge of character when it came to Mortal emotions. Understanding such pathetic creatures felt trivial. You didn't attempt to understand a bug before you crushed it beneath your heel.
"...this is Liara's home."
At those words Irkall turned slowly, looking at the woman as she looked back to him. If she knew these two during her life that was bad news for the Mortalborn. He'd remained hidden thus far. Last thing he needed was another ghost to reveal herself. Taking a moment to remain composed, Irkall raised an eyebrow. "You know her?" he asked through grit teeth, his tone both inquisitive and concerned. Not for her, not for Liara. But for himself.
"I knew her my whole life. Their family took care of me for some time. Before I died she visited me..." the woman paused at her own thought, clearly emotional when talking about such things. Accepting death was difficult. Even with his new form Irkall had struggled at first with the realization that he was no longer alive. Only after time and patience did he come to accept it for the gift it was. Yet he still continued to try and escape, to come back to life. For somebody with the resolve of a regular mortal it would likely be far harder to grasp. She looked to Irkall again, eyes raising up as she approached the strange man. "I'm Mara. It's good to meet you. You are?"
After a moment of quiet the Mortalborn met her glance, yet his eyes were far colder than hers. "Irkall" he simply addressed himself. Mara nodded her head and looked around again, checking out the rooms. "They haven't changed a thing" she admitted with a soft, weak smile as she took in the room - unaware of Irkall preparing himself with a silent inhale. "I used t-" she paused abruptly, sharp pain rushing through her body as she cried out for a moment, turning herself around. Irkall's ghostly hands placed on her shoulders and the Ectoplasm started to drain from her. She was already weak after pushing out of the Beneath, and from what little Irkall could tell she wasn't as powerful as he was regardless.
"What are you doing?! Stop it! Please! she screamed as her body started to shift and break apart, cracks appearing on her ghostly visage as Irkall took all of the energy in, feeling empowered and stronger. It had been some time since he drained raw Ectoplasm. Her screams continued to fill the house as they became distorted too, the very essence of her soul fading from this world. Her warped face stared up at Irkall pleadingly while screams of anguish left her body. But his eyes remained cold, draining every part of her from this world without hesitation. It was violent and visceral, like nothing Irkall had ever seen before.
With one final cry her body shrivelled and vanished, any remnant of the Echo gone from this world and dragged back to the beneath, as a rush of energy overflowed into Irkall. After moments of silence he let himself breathe with a deep exhale. No witnesses. Nobody that could risk his operation here. Liara and Duvrin could inform some authorities if they found out he was here, a place that dealt with spirits this readily could prove a threat to him. Any other ghost or spirit finding him was a threat that would be dealt with. There wasn't an ounce of remorse from the Mortalborn at the horrific thing he'd just done. After all...
She was just a Mortal.
Mortalborn of Ghosts, Fog, Domination
