Von Genf Family/Jos/Conversion
Earlier archives are lost.
| Roleplay from Rallos Bedwyr | |
| The acolyte stops before a modest hut, one with signs of ill-omen surrounding it. The acolyte hesitates a for a moment.
"His Holiness is tending to a demon infestation here. A local cat, possessed by what he assured me was a minor elemental. He said it would be...safe...well...relatively...testing a theory..." He slumped in relief as cheery voices came from inside, and an older man wearing rather travel-worn though clean white robes strode out, hands and arms freshly scrubbed, fingers massaging his thumbs as if they hurt. He was peering around, and he was muttering. "By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes..." His eyes stopped when they reaches Jos, and he nodded sharply. "Ye-es. You would be the one, hm? Very interesting. Never seen a demon bound like that before, though with their greater kin abounding in this land I suppose I should expect this." He examined Jos at length, eyes ranging up and down, making half-motions with his hands, and Jos visibly started a few times, but found his tongue still unable to form speech. Jessim tugged his beard for a moment. "There is good news, and there is bad news. Yes, I can remove the demon, which would remove the curse, and allow you to speak. And indeed, we can banish the demon, as my little test in there" he poked his thumb toward the shack "proved. The barriers are very thin here, so where we needed the volcano in the East, a brazier or fireplace will do here. The bad news is that I will need some fleshly thing to bind the demon to, and I have not the gift to force the demon to abandon its place. In truth...I am not sure it can. This is a strange working. And as the curse is bound with the Bastard's theological organ of the tongue, I will need to use something with similar affinity, such as His finger." Jessim's lips twisted as he waggled his thumbs. "His...Preferences are rather vile, at times. So, my lord Jos, are you right or left handed?" | |
| Rallos Bedwyr | |
| Roleplay from Jos von Genf | |
| Relaxed up to that point, Jos instinctively withdraws his hand at that point. Nervously looking around, he looks at his trusted squire, who looks entirely confident and nods to him. Tentatively, Jos indicates the ring finger of his left-hand, which is curled on itself and unable to move from an old wound. | |
| Jos von Genf | |
| Roleplay from Rallos Bedwyr | |
| Jessim nodded again.
"In here, then. We can use the fire pit and send another of His wayward children home." Jessim turned to talk back in, smiling and murmuring a brief explanation to the tired but jubilant looking peasantry inside. The man's eyes widened, and reverently touching forehead, lips, belly, and groin before spreading his hand over his heart, he turned to chivvy the children away. His wife, absently sketched the Five before poking the sullen embers to bring flame back to life in the central pit, and then bringing a knife to heat in the flickering light. The saint sunk to the ground with a slight thump and leaned up against one of the walls, gesturing Jos toward the pit. After a moment, the woman held up the wide blade, which made wavy chaos in the air above from the heat. Jessim twisted his fingers, and Jos' left thumb...Twitched. "She can do it, or you can have your servant handle it. I would not recommend trying to cut your own thumb off. The blade should be left against the stump to complete the cauterization. And as soon as it is removed, the finger needs to be tossed into the fire. My binding only works as long as it lives, and it will not live long without your lifeblood pumping through it. A few seconds at most." Jessim's own fingers kept their twisty position, and were trembling slightly. | |
| Rallos Bedwyr | |
| Roleplay from Jos von Genf | |
| Jos gives signs that he wishes for a minute. He inspects the blade, checking its sharpness, and verifies that all the normal precautions have been taken: hot water nearby and bandages nearby, the embers sufficiently red to sterilize extra blades should they be needed. He writes a short text on a piece of paper, which he seals and puts in his servant's pocket, before sitting down and acknowledging to the women with the blade. She can go ahead. | |
| Jos von Genf | |
| Roleplay from Rallos Bedwyr | |
| The woman briefly sketches the Five, forehead-lips-navel-groin-heart, with the red-hot knife before holding Jos's hand firmly down and moving the knife in the firm, sure stroke of a farmwife who has severed flesh and bone with blade many a time.
As the thumb separates, Jessim's fingers twitch and his lips tighten. His head jerks toward the brazier as his whole body starts to tremble...Teeth audibly clicking and grinding as the first wisps of cooked meat waft by...And then collapses in exhaustion and relief as the flesh finishes burning and the bone cracks. He is vaguely aware that after dropping the thumb into the brazier the woman quickly cleaned and bound the wound, but that is not his concern. "First time...Daimon-touched...Considerably more...Difficult. But..." His eyes roll over to Jos. "Appears...To have...worked...Can you...speak...?" | |
| Rallos Bedwyr | |
| Roleplay from Jos von Genf | |
| With deep doubts clear in his eyes, Jos straightened his neck, took some air in, and cleared his throat in what was, for anyone who knew him, an unexpectedly clear fashion.
Surprise replacing doubt, he tries again: "Argh…. awrrgh.. aw… aye. Yes. Ith…
It'z… it'th….it'SS. It'ss been 10 years….. Thank you." And with that last word, nothing else seems appropriate but to kneel does, which Jos graciously does. | |
| Jos von Genf | |
| Roleplay from Rallos Bedwyr | |
| Jessim's eyes closed.
"Very welcome. Like getting rid of demons. Think I'm going to sleep for a year or two before the next one." The woman made noises about wanting to clean up, and Jessim groaned and struggled to his feet, at which point he noticed the kneeling Jos. "Bastard's grace, no need for that. If you feel compelled to a gesture, find a temple, and donate to the Order so we can care for more of the orphans His wayward Daimons left behind." Jessim unsteadily stumbled toward the doorway, and the woman, rolling her eyes, whistled up a pack of relatives to guide the saint to a cot. She eyed the Duke uneasily, and started trying to clean around him. | |
| Rallos Bedwyr | |
