Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-17114085-20160807152142/@comment-5583506-20160809130653

Catryn found her way down to the house on the Northern chapel street. There wasn't really any particular to it that made it stand out amongst the others, but she could sense... it. What normal human beings would have described as goosebumps, she got the tingling sensation of unnatural forces at work, pounding in her veins. She felt the rage and misery housed within the spectral heart of the wraith. It wouldn't be long for now though before its suffering would be over.

The door was boarded up, but the planks were rotten to the point where even a single punch or a kick would have broken them in half. She approached the front and used the hilt of her steel sword to dislodge the boards from the handle and the lock, before forcefully opening the door with a swift pull. A gust of all matter of smells and aromas hit her in the face like the splashes of a wave. The very atmosphere within the house had been locked up in its own filth for years and thus she wasn't surprised when the stench sickened her to the bone.

The entrance hall wasn't fancy or anything. If she hadn't known the backstory it would have been impossible for her to say that there had once lived a mage in this very house. It was very dark inside, due to the sun and moonlight being blocked out by the old curtains drawn over the windows along with the boards nailed up against the exterior. She gently sheathed her steel sword and instead drew her silver sword, slightly tapping the tip against the murky floorboards. They squeaked underneath the weight of her boots, but they would undoubtedly hold.

The clang of the silver echoed throughout the empty rooms and chambers and she peered out in the hallways to see if there were any irregularities emerging.

Nothing...

From what she knew of wraiths they would dematerialize to save their own energy. They sapped their own energy in order to maintain a spectral form, the very energy that kept them bound to the mortal realm. Once dematerialized they would slowly replenish it and could thus resurface again and again, growing stronger over time... and angrier; if the demands that kept them coming back weren't fulfilled. That's why many hauntings involving wraiths were more dangerous based upon for how long the haunting had been going on. Castles, residences and mansions with centuries of wraith-hauntings could be considered highly deadly, even for a Witcher. This wraith however had only been coming back over a couple of years and thus Catryn had no fear that this being would pose a threat. Nevertheless a wraith was a formidable enemy, full of unholy magic. Mistakes could easily be made and things could go awry. One would be wise not to underestimate the creature, no matter how old it was.

It would seem however that the wraith had dematerialized. It would without doubt be back soon. She could sense it. With a snort she daringly entered a dark corridor and found herself an open space in what used to be a chamber of some sort. In the pouches along her belt, she kept her alchemical tools. She needed to be ready. With a small amount of ectoplasm quickly melting and brewing in a pot mixed with a mashed wolf's eye, blue mountain flowers and bone meal. Neither particularly tasty or easy to keep down, she drank the contents of the brew as soon as it had gained a smooth, liquid form.

As the contents burned through her veins her senses immediately became fine tuned to sense any spectral activities in her vicinity. Her heart pounded like a sledgehammer within her chest and the insides of her head felt as if on fire. Yet she could definitely sense the spectral energy oozing out of the spot by the place where a bed used to stand.

''Dried up blood stains on the floor... Soaked into the floorboards... This is definitely the place where the mage was slain...''

It was too early still. The effects of the brew would last throughout the night, but she needed to be patient and wait. The wraith had yet to surface...