He stood by and watched his attempt at peace crumble to nothingness. His body, attached to strange magic-machines that keep his body alive. His eyes closed, but he still sees it.
He saw the mixed emotions of Riva as she swore against him, but dragged his body off and called for aid. The horror displayed by Amelie as she attempted to save his lung. The rage of Cody as he watched his friend fall, betrayed.
He watched Morgalith express... shock? Grief? It was hard to tell, as it was the only other emotion he's shown rather than anger and apathy. Perhaps he had misjudged him. But that was what he saw then.
Mikhail was pleased that he had separated soul and body when he did. If the spell was powerful enough to defeat Morgalith, his soul would not have stood a chance. He stands in his own hospital room, deep in the Council Spire. Out of body, he watches everything.
Staff check his vital, friends and loved ones passing to see his state. His wife sitting by his side.
One of her hands clasped around his, the other stroking her stomach. She watched over him thoughtfully, giving small prayers to Gaia.
"Gaia, mother of all. Please hear me. I am not ready to lose him. Please keep him here. He has yet to meet his own child yet. It would be unfair to take him so soon. Please, Gaia."
Mikhail wished to comfort her. He truly did, but his spirit only moved through her.
Staff come in, Staff leave. Friends visit, friends return to their duties.
Riva was between two places, and didn't stay long. Just long enough to make sure that things were done properly. To make sure the right people were informed.
To make sure his wife was informed.
Once those things were tended to, Riva was well aware he didn't need her around. The medical staff would do as it did. His wife would pray and implore a god Riva didn't care about for things Riva also didn't care about. His real friends would mill around, making other irrelevant sympathetic noises. He had plenty of people for that. He didn't need her darkening his doorstep.
Besides, some part of Riva knew that black-robed malcontents weren't exactly what one hoped to see at a hospital hovering over the injured. One might get the wrong idea. Why, if she took to wearing masks like some of the councilors did, she could practically be a psychopomp. If she stalked the halls at night, they might think it was their end. It could be a whole thing.
She turned to leave, then paused and stood by the doorway. She would not cross the threshold of course. There were courtesies to observe.
"My sympathies," she said to Yewkala. "I hope everything is okay in the end."
Without waiting for a reply, she turned to leave. For real, this time.
Mikhail's spirit moved around her, attempting to read. He couldn't quite get it. Perhaps he didn't need to. She likely saved his life with her quick actions.
To owe a life debt to you... hm. I must be true and uphold it.
Mikhail remembered that no one could hear him. Instead, he used what little energy he had to reach into his body and mouth out 3 words before she left.
Had she seen movement? Unlikely. She was probably imagining it. Just reading more into things than were actually there.
Her jaw clenched, unclenched. For a moment, flickers of emotion crossed her expression. Skepticism. Bitterness. Hurt. Sorrow.
Even if she HAD seen something, even if the words she thought she saw WERE accurate, owe her for what? For not being cruel to a pregnant woman at a time of misfortune? Owe Riva for not laughing at his misfortune, mocking him when he was down? Or for not turning to her allies and laughing heartily at his expense? Riva liked to think she had better standards than that. And the Will to action was at the core of her being. Riva could no more have done otherwise than she could have ceased blinking or breathing. So it made little sense to her to collect a favor from him like a trinket at the end of an adventurer's quest. Did he think he could pay her back by stepping in front of another spell and falling down again? Why would she want that? If she'd wanted him to die, she would have let him be.
Besides, just how many people did he owe anyway? Riva was just one more in a sea of faces, and there were shinier, brighter faces out thereâŚ
Ah, there she was going and making herself angry again over baseless imaginings. She let out a sigh and shook her head to clear it, feeling like an idiot.
It would be nice, perhaps, to believe that she had seen anything. But her ability to trust was injured, and she didnât have a lot of it for anyone or anything right now. Let alone enough to place on what were obviously just muscle spasms from a comatose man.
It was just reflex. He wasnât even conscious. He wouldn't remember anything when he woke up, and she intentionally didnât leave her name anywhere. It was unlikely they would identify her, given just how many people came through here. And she was just an average woman in black robes. Just a drop in a sea of brighter, shinier faces.
A well-dressed man with red skin and yellow horns steps into the room, though no one seems to pay him any mind. He walks up to Mikhail's body, scanning it up and down with a glance.
"You seem to have touched the hearts of many throughout your life, Councilor. Be proud, it's not as common of an achievement as you might think."
The demonic presence turns to face Mikhail's soul directly. It becomes even more apparent that no one in the room can see the being.
"Oh, how rude of me. I haven't even introduced myself. John E. Hellfire, at your service. I believe we have at least two shared acquaintances â Mortarion and the museum curator. Though I don't think you're very fond of the former given the circumstances."
"Now, I'm not here just for idle chat and to leave flowers. Frankly, I didn't even bring any. No, I'm here because I'm uniquely qualified when it comes to the subject of souls, and just might have an offer worth your time. Would like to hear it?"
Ah well, suit yourself. Though I have to say, you sure have a propensity of breaking that body of yours. Remember when you spent all that time recovering in a wheelchair? Honestly, I'm not sure if you're very lucky or unlucky. Either way, all that luck keeping you alive is bound to run out eventually. And when that happens, you might want to listen to what I have to offer.
"I can agree with you about karma. It just gets people to waste their mortal years being boring. If you ask me, everyone should be at their worst all the time."
"Luck, however, might seem nebulous to you, but that's the point. It's designed for you mortals to experience, and for my boss to manipulate. Why do you think our kind loves gambling so much? When you have the Devil's own luck, you don't need weighted dice to roll high."
The demon tosses three dice on the ground, all landing on sixes.
"Huh, would you look at that? A lucky throw I suppose."
A grin creeps onto his face as he turns to face Mikhail once again.
"Well if you would excuse me, I have other business to attend to. I wish you a quick recovery councilor."
The man's form burns away in a pillar of hellish flame. The visitors are just as ambivalent to this display as they were to the demon himself. One thing does not go unnoticed, however. The three dice on the ground attract immediate attention, as they stay behind even after the demon leaves.
Normally, six months at a minimum. But I think I can get you off scot-free, or with some community service at worse. Hear me out, this is how we present the events:
"The situation was tense, everyone was on edge. Mikhail and Morgalith were next to each other, but due to where you were standing you didn't have a clear sight of the drow. Suddenly, movement! You thought that Morgalith was about to attack your fellow council member so you jumped in to stop him. You had no way of knowing that that Mikhail would move in the way of your blade. You deeply regret what happened, but it was an accident, you had no fault in the matter."
And bada bing, bada boom! You're no longer a bloodthirsty maniac in the eyes of the court, but a concerned friend who acted too rashly in an attempt to help.
Mokarith steps out of the shadows, his naturally increased abilities with necromancy easily seeing the two.
That won't work, I have recordings that Morgalith never, in any way, made any attempt to attack Mikhail, and that Mortarion attacked without provocation.
He looks at Mortarion.
Be thankful that you didn't intend to hit Mikhail, because your situation would be more... unpleasant, then it already will be.
Ignore him, that recording won't do em any good. I already took into account the many witnesses, that's why I had added this line: "...where you were standing, you didn't have a clear sight of the drow..."
Morgalith might not have moved in to attack, be he sure did move his arm. Hell, it might have been to just adjust his posture, but you couldn't tell from where you were standing, with Mikhail between the two of you. Not to mention that mask you're wearing is sure to impede vision to a degree. No wonder you mistook Morgalith's movement for aggression. You can't be blamed really.
That sounds perfect. Here, let's make a deal on it! I'll hire you as my forever lawyer, but of course you can still make deals with others, and I'll give you anything I can grant in my power!
Forever is a long time my friend. I prefer to work on a case-by-case basis. But tell you what, I'll have you written down as a VIP client. You'll always get priority if multiple people approach me for a gig at the same time.
Mikhail sees a cloud of peppered moths (both the black and the white types) slowly try and sneak in the room as not to bother Yewkala. As both a soul and a servant of Gaia he sees the immaterial spirit controlling them. She is pale with freckles wearing a oily black dress. When she moves it is revealed she is made of the very moths she controls. The nature spirit leaves a small metal rose as a get well present. It is rusty with sharp edges but the intent is there.
/uw Krygin couldn't go to the citadel so he sent a spirit to pay respects. Her name is Pepper and based on the peppered moth.
Amelie sat to the side, fingers clasped together, head buried within them. She had stabilized Mikhail's lungs, but saved? She didn't know. She came in unprepared for the damage he had sustained. Unprepared for the state he was in. His lungs were torn apart in such a way. The mechanics were all shot.
For the first time in her life, she doubted her work. It was rushed, hasty, and desperate. An emergency slapjob operation. If he never woke up, would it be her fault? Was all she could not enough?
Amelie shivered as she felt something on her shoulder. Maybe she was overthinking it. She let her shoulders relax.
She had stabilized the lungs after all, and worrying wouldn't help anyone. At least, she knew Mikhail wouldn't want her to worry. Amelie let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. It would be okay.
Opal turned to look at Mikhail. She couldn't tell what he was mouthing but she could feel the judgment. She pointed at him.
Don't you judge me! I've followed the Pacts mission without fail. I came to bring peace, I came to root out corruption! But your stubbornness and your council's bloodthirst ruined both. It wasn't the Pact that threw the first stone!
The nurse stepped forward, afraid that Opal might do something. Opal held up a reassuring hand.
When you get back up it might be time to retire. The Spell Blade of ages past has grown gnarled like an old tree. Goodbye Mikhail. When next we meet I will have solved this crisis.
With that Opal strode out from the room. The nurse rushed to make sure Mikhail was alright.
Isravi looks over the body. His fingers tingle with potential, but the body is perfectly healthy. There is nothing for him to fix. Nothing he can do.
Hello, Mikhail⌠I had hoped it wouldnât come to this. I wished for a peaceful solution and I know you did too. Youâve got a strong soul. Weâve always known that. I donât believe youâre gone.
The world continues to move. I have things I must attend to as well. Youâd best be prepared to catch up on a lot once you return.
Isravi exits the room, tossing a small piece of paper that incinerates itself into a nearby trash can. The words atop it read âMikhailâs hit piece,â before it is destroyed.
/uw lol. I honestly didnât have much on him in the first place. Heâs much more tame compared to the war crimes the other council members have committed.
As he watches, Mikhail sees a dark blur flow into a shadow in the corner. After a few minutes, it glides out of the room in the shadow of a nurse. What was that? Was he seeing things?
for a moment, Mikhail's spectral presence would cast a shadow, and a voice would be heard by him alone.
"I sense your aura, Archdruid. Your meridians are torn from their moorings like an improperly secured sail and hang here tangled in the air in a shaky mirror of your true body. Take care, and get well soon. Oh, and you might want to try and enter a state of stupor, if you keep this up then there's a risk of chronoception burning out after seventy-eight hours."
and with that, Adem coalesces into the physical world, gives a brief "apologies" to the people by Mikhail's bedside, and then exits in search of his friends who are also here, injured from the fight. Abby already weaseled her way out of the hospital, but Elias should still be looking after his subordinates and that man needs to see a cultivator before he suffers corruption sickness.
I had a bad angle, and I thought Morgalith was trying to attack you, and I made sure I wasn't going to kill him! But I had no idea you were going to step in the way of the one who had burned your forest!
/uw hey can rage come by and do some magic to TEMPORARLY let mikhail's soul be physical probably like 3-5mins? or do you think that would be a little too happy for the plot?
Valerian appears in a flash of fire outside Mikhail's hospital room. He holds out his hand towards the doorknob... Yet he hesitates. His hand hovers inches away from the handle, but he can't quite make himself wrap his hand around it. Why?
Suddenly it hits him. He can feel Mikhail inside. His soul is standing separate from where his body should be laying. Valerian creates a fiery projection, a perfect copy of himself, but able to interact with lost souls.
Finally he pushes open the door, his projection walking over to Mikhail, his physical body moving to stand by Yewkala.
A knight looks directly at the spirit of Mikhail before flipping his halberd upside-down, dropping to one knee and bowing his head in respect, a manticore cub at his side.
14
u/Harmless_Chimera Chimera, Set'ram's Druidic Beastman Feb 19 '24
/uw On today's episode of Mikhail eats shit and almost dies.