Despair, Seperation, Aggression, Acceptance
A Spirit Medium was commisioned to help in the investigation of a triple homicide. This vision would give the first glimpse into Xavian's Touch.
The man bellowed as he haphazardly kicked a small branch that had fallen casually onto the trail. He balled his hands in his pockets, his jawline clenched with indignation as he brain replayed the day. The soft crunch of his shoes against the damp leaves echoed as he slogged his way toward home. Life in the evergreen Ilun Valley wasn't always easy and the weather was as fickle as it was often docile. For men like him working on a large crop-share was the best way to ride out the unproductive post-harvest months. Though even in that lavish environment, some jobs were undoubtedly better than others. That was the kind of job the man had. Well, formerly had until an impromptu sitdown with the landowner, Sochalla.
His caring but often overbearing wife, Danil, had begged him emphatically to cut back on the drinking. She didn't understand how relieved he had felt to find himself on easy street. Sochalla's crop-share was easy work for great pay. So why not celebrate after the hard ride they had had? You only have one mortal body, may as well enjoy it, right? And oh, how he had enjoyed it. So when the Sochalla pulled the man over for a private chat, he thought it was for his overdue raise. Instead, the slim, elderly man brought up his, as he called it "drinking habit". Then began accusing him of having alcohol on his breath at the beginning of shift every morning. The man, as an upstanding citizen, naturally denied the charges. A few drinks at night in the privacy of your own home didn't count as a problem. Sochalla disagreed, and after a tense back and forth the man left the crop-share unemployed.
So now here the man was, walking home, trying to figure out how to explain this injustice to his wife. Knowing her, she'd tell him to go pray at the local shrine behind the town hall. He didn't believe in divine intervention and was never interested in trying to rely on it. The man had seen enough bad things happen to good people to know that prayers alone did little. As far as he was concerned both The Divinity and The Order were useless for common men like him.
His thoughts scattered as he was forced to stop. Some combination of the pent-up anger and his worries had diverted his attention for he had arrived at his doorstep without noticing. The man chided himself for being so deep in thought as to walk all way the home and not really realize it. He exhaled loudly as he tried to relax, reflexively rubbing his jaw at the realization of it being clenched this whole time. If he could just make it through tonight he thought to himself. In the morning he'd sit down and find a different crop-share to work. Everything would be alright.
The conversation had somehow gone worse than even he had imagined possible. The man had forgotten his wife was close with the wife of one of the other farmers. Danil had been ready for him before he had even stepped inside the house. She couldn't believe he had been fired over being drunk at the job. He had tried to explain to her he was just as shocked, but the words didn't come out right. She even accused him of being drunk right then. The man had been shocked, after all the years they spent together he figured she'd remember how high his limit was. He tried to remind her, but that just made it worse. Why couldn't she just see it from his viewpoint?
Why is she never on your side?
You don't need anyone.
"When I say loud, I mean LOUDER than my WIFE." The man chuckled at his own poor taste in humor. The greying owner stared at the man for a moment then continued making the drink. The man stared into the back of the bar owners head for a moment. Maybe he didn't like the tavern owner as much as he thought after all.
He doesn't care either.
"Ahhh I remember why I used to like you."
The owner reeled back a bit from the brash phrasing. The man pushed the glass forward, motioning for another one. "I think you've had more than enough, friend, " a slight look of disgust creaked across the owners face as he spat out the words. The man glared wordlessly at the bar owner for a second. As if shocked by the well-deserved retort.
"Um, excuse me? I just got here? It's a little early to be cutting me off don't you think?"
The barkeeper met the man's glare with an inquisitive look. The elderly server motioned to the right of the man. A small stack of nine drink glasses sat to the side of the counter.
"If you don't remember the other drinks you've had, then its definitely time to for you to leave."
The man stared blankly at the unwashed glassware. Were those his? When had he ordered those? Maybe the barkeep had made those drinks extra loud after all.
"Well seeing as how I don't remember them, I think that means we can start the count over." the man slyly smiled and winked.
"Do I need to get a message to Danil?"
The man stiffened at his wife's name. There she was again, controlling his life from afar. Why were the people around him constantly imposing their will on his life? He began to wonder to himself if that's why he didn't remember the other drinks. Part of some clever ploy to make him think he had been drinking too much. The man wondered to himself if she had had anything to do with his sudden and unwarranted termination. She had known about it awfully fast after all.
You can't trust anyone.
"Don't worry, I'm done here."
The man could hear the owner call out to him as he moved and then stumbled toward the door. The floors were clearly uneven he rationalized to himself. He could barely remember why he wasted his time coming to such a dive.
You're better off by yourself
Yes, the man thought, yes he was.
They never let you be you.
It was like they were punishing him for being human. When had the world become like that? You couldn't enjoy a relaxing drink or even own a pet in your own home. The man looked up as he slowly drifted back to reality. He glanced around at his surroundings in a daze, he had wandered almost to the edge of town. The man sighed, he had nothing else to do at this point really. It was time for him to just head back home.
If you had power, things would be different
He paused as he saw a shadow move through a view into the home. Who was at his home at this time of night?
THEY PLANNED THIS
EVERYONE IS INVOLVED
"Oh my god, where have you BEEN! We've been looking for you for days!"
His eyes swept across the room, for one set of treacherous eyes to the next. The beloved owner of the sweatshop that practically begged people to work there. He saw the fat bulbous man for what he really was at that moment. Not a loving pillar of the community or stand up boss. No, he was just another leech getting plump for his hard work.
FAT FROM YOUR SUCCESS
"Listen here you fat fuck. How dare you show your face in MY home. How long have you been planning this? I bet YOU'RE the one with the drinking problem!"
LOOK AT THEM ALL[/br]
THEY'RE ALL LIARS
The woman that was his wife was screaming at him. He mentally tuned her out as he knew it was all just lies at this point. They just wanted his power. They wanted ALL his power. He had never really even wanted this house actually. The man didn't even love where they lived. He worked all day long, tirelessly at an Order sanctioned labor mill to provide the fake life they both led.
DON'T LET THEM LIE TO YOU ANYMORE
THIS IS TAKING BACK YOUR POWER
TAKE MORE OF YOUR POWER BACK
"HAHAHAHAHA YES! I'LL TAKE ALL OF IT BACK!"
The man started laughing as he felt himself gaining power with every crunch. The room was filled with voices. Some woman was calling a name he felt like he once knew. It barely mattered anymore. The sound of the dull thuds of his fist drowned it all out. The rage was blissful and the revenge was sweet.
He had found his answer.
The man realized that the only way for him to be whole again was to get back everything he had once lost. His time, his energy, his freedom. To do whatever he wanted, whatever he wanted. Why did he let anyone control him in the first place? He suddenly felt a gripping touch on his shoulder, the man glanced to his left to see a thin bony and skeletal like appendage on his shoulder.
THEY'RE TRYING TO STOP YOU.
Crying sobs hit his ears as he slowly turned to see what entity had grasped him. A woman was half collapsed against the wall, paintings that hung on them were strewn against the floor. What might have once been a table was broken into shambles. A thin frail man was slumped in a patterned chair on the other end of the room.
"Why are you doing this Avell?" the soft words made him pause for a moment. That voice, that tone, paused his carnage for a moment. His head was foggy, his mouth parched and vision was cloudy. His eyes had started to hurt from the daylight peeking through the window.
Sunlight? Wait, when had the sun come up? Something felt wrong. Something felt wrong.
Only the powerless lose control
Was that his wife on the ground? The blood at the corner of her delicate lips, did he do that? Had he done that to his beautiful wife?
Only the WEAK lose sight of what they want
How many people had been in the room again?
Let me in and you'll never have to feel this way again
He stumbled a bit as his feet hit something. The man looked down to see the tavern owner. His hair shimmering with rust and red colors.
Wait, wasn't he old with grey hair?
YOU are the WEAK one.
"They just wanted to make sure you were ok." her faint whispers punctuated with soft sobs of terror. Blood ran down the side of her face. Blood? Or tears?
The man sank to his knees, running his hands across his face as panic began to sink in. His mind hazy as he tried to understand what was going on. What his mind was processing. A wetness on his face startled him as he touched it, he paused and looked at his hands. Smeared in blood and small pieces of flesh and grey matter.
What had he done?
You can't go back now. She hates you.
The man started screaming as the bitter smell of iron invaded his noise.
Laughter rang out around him. They were all pointing him. Laughing at him. They mocked him as they waved bottles of liquor in his face. He pressed his hands to his ears, trying to mask the sound. It was futile.
"We can go to the elder, you're sick Avell. The drinking has done something to you. This isn't you."
Even when he tried to take control, they laugh. They always laugh. So funny to watch him topple from up high. He wanted to be away from it all. From the control and games.
His screams couldn't drown out all the voices. Why couldn't they all just stop? Why couldn't it ALL JUST STOP?
SAY IT AND IT WILL ALL END
The man's voice cracks raw as his screams died out, his anger and emotion drained. He had nothing left. Truly.
He let the words escape from his lips.
This is an accounting of a vision from a Spirit Medium who was brought into the scene of a grisly triple murder. It was highly beileved at the time that the murders were related to several other high profile incidents at the time.
A suspect was never found. Increased reports of Raksha activity in the proximity,
Xavian's TouchStage 1 - Infection (whispers in your head)
Stage 2 - Host Preparation(hallucinations)
Stage 3 - Mental Degradation(Rage)
Stage 4 - Invitation (Raksha possession)
- Related Ethnicities
- Related Species
- Related Locations