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Geister, Geister and More Geister

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  • Geister, Geister and More Geister

    This is a thread for posting ideas for Geister. I'll kick us off with a bit of a description:

    The Corpse That Bloomed

    A man sits at a small round table next to the window of a cafe, typing on a laptop. He is in profile against the outside world, which is fuzzy through the glass. A coffee cub sits on the table next to the laptop, gently steaming. His hair is dark, short-cut and scruffy and a pair of wires lead to earbuds in his ears. A ropy, discolored patch rings his throat.

    Behind the man stands a humanoid figure. Its body is a tangle of vines and thorns wound about a bleached skeleton. Its innards are concealed by innumerable rose blossoms, forming a soft and irregular skin. The skull gleams white among the red, grinning where a head ought to be. Lilies bloom in the eye sockets. Below the waist it's humanoid shape loses definition, and the legs are only vaguely separate. It sinks roots into the vinyl floor and leans forward attentively. A hand is outstretched, pointing at the screen over the man's shoulder, seemingly as to comment on whatever the man is writing.

    The Corpse That Bloomed is a Geist of lost love and bittersweet memory. Its Keys are Passion and Stigmata. The former is born directly from its connection to love and grief, but it cannot recall the source of the latter. If one were to touch it one would find that its crimson color comes not from the natural pigment of roses but rather from a thin coating of blood on the petals. The Corpse remembers nothing of its life besides emotion - feeling is all it is.

    When calm it is relatively personable as Geister go, even capable of holding a human-like conversation. If its emotions are roused, however, it becomes entirely fixated upon them. If it sees a beautiful person - male or female - it will sing their praises for days (or at least until it sees someone else it can attach its affections to) and if it is angered it will rave and rant, demanding that its Bound destroy the object of its wrath immediately.
    Last edited by ajf115; 01-12-2018, 08:42 AM.

    Is it presumptuous of me to ask for alternating male/female pronouns?

  • #2
    Inspired by Evolutionary Biology, on a phone:

    The Synatomorph Judge

    Mutation is a fundamentally random process. Evolution is not. The Synatomorph Judge personifies why this is not a contradiction: she (she sees herself as a dark Mother Earth figure, gender included) is a geist of evolutionary pressures, competition and environ that drives species to adapt or die. She is eternally frustrated by the fact individuals cannot evolve, the closest thing possible being how psychology is affected by personal experience-and outright angered by how the dead generally aren't even capable of that. It's for that reason she Bargains; she wishes to see how her Bound change in response to the advent of their new state, and to use them as a vector to affect further change in the living world, and with it bring much-needed adaptation to the Underworld, making it more of a true ecology capable of its own balance and dynamism. Curiously, she's actually something of a traditionalist when it comes to Sin-Eater culture-she got her title from the term for biological traits shared among related species, and in her view favorable to survival. Humans have running ability, endurance, and altruism, Bound have a unified set of ethics and more of behavior that serves as both guide and limit. She is not unkind or even ruthless, viewing virtuous behavior as favorable to survival of the population, but her Bound would take care to remember she personifies the alternative to survival; she is infamously pragmatic and views the world through an alien lens where the only true measure of worth is sustainable population growth and resistance to extinction. Those who fall, in her view, simply were not good enough.


    • #3
      Apologies in advance, I'm really bad at writing prose.

      The Shroud-Seamstress

      It’s been three full minutes now, and the guy in the tank top still hasn’t looked away from you for a single moment. Standing painfully straight at his corner of the bar, he hasn’t yet drink a sip of the drink you ordered him from across the counter. It’s definitely his first time here – and probably his first time in a gay bar at all. You rarely hit on guys like that – especially when they’re so out of your league: but there's something about him that's simply... enticing. He keeps eyeing you, a mix of shyness and excitation palpable in his gaze, and slowly, resolutely, he raises the glass and downs it. His fluorescent wristband slips slightly down his arm, and in its diffuse halo, you first notice the intricate net of parallel scars upon it, stretching like furrows on the field of his flesh.

      What you do not see, however, is the form that hovers above him: a spectral, feminine form dressed in a mass of white silk ribbons, floating and undulating around her as if underwater. From the jumble of fabric, two immaculate arms emerge: but instead of hands, each appendage ends with an eight-fingered silvery metallic construct made of needles and clockwork, oddly remindful of a spider: and indeed where she grazes and strokes the boy’s shoulders, small patches of glistening gossamer start to form. Her bust and head are those of a mannequin, lacking hair, eyes and, in fact, any facial features – save for the mouth: red, luscious lips, parted in a wide grin displaying two bright white rows of teeth, and currently mouthing something repeatedly to the guy in the tank top, something that sounds a little bit like “Go on.”

      Once upon a time, the Shroud Seamstress likes to narrate, there was a man who loved her and whom she loved. He proposed her, and they both enthusiastically starting planning and preparing for their wedding – she even started sewing her own wedding dress. But there were constant setbacks, changes of plans, bickering between the two families. And somewhere amidst those preparations that weren’t really theirs anymore, love slowly went away.

      She doesn’t remember having ever worn the dress at all. Probably because she died prior to the wedding, she reasons: but that's only speculation on her behalf, for she has no memory of the true cause of her death. Suicide? Murder at the hand of her fiancé? Sickness, due to her physical and psychological exhaustion? It’s all blurry now – and mostly, she doesn't care to look for the answer. She doesn’t have to worry about her dress fitting her: now, her gown is fused to her very being, woven and unwoven at the whims of her Plasm.

      All that’s left for her to find is a wedding to attend.

      The two keys of the Shroud Seamstress are Stillness (the slow, painless inner death caused by routine and things unsaid) and Industrial (for the pragmatic experience she acquired during all those nights working at that wedding dress she never got to wear). Where some Geists tend to harm their Bound through their recklessness or hothead maneuvers, the Shroud Seamstress is all about pragmatism and safety. Having concluded many consecutive Bargains with numerous Necropolitan Krewes, she has quite the reputation as a matchmaker… especially between her Bound and the numerous widows of both sexes they won’t fail to cross path with during their missions as a Sin-Eater.

      In her bad days, she’ll do anything to drag him towards the “living”, ordinary side of his existence, no matter the urgency of his Sin-Eater prerogatives, or the boredom he may feel about a domestic life. She will have her perfect wedding – whatever it will take.
      Last edited by Adrasalieth; 02-05-2018, 10:29 PM.


      • #4
        I was wiki crawling when I found this mythic figure, and started getting geist-y ideas:

        Ankou, the Psychopomp of Brittany

        This geist is one of the most infamous in the British Isles. It has stalked these lands for nearly 3000 years - and has, according to legend, been Bound to Sin Eaters for nearly all of it. So much of its time has been spent with a Sin Eater that it's taken the purpose of shepherding lost souls as its own on-going mission - the only thing it demands of its Sin Eaters is to guide lost souls... for exactly one year.

        Appearance: Ankou draws its form from legends of the Grim Reaper, or is perhaps the basis of them. The geist is a skeletal human form in a dark robe, its face hidden by a large black hat, carrying a scythe. Many of its Bound mimic this appearance as a symbol of office, and many also learn the Caul Haunt.

        The Bargain: the first person to die each year (in its territory of Brittain, Cornwall, and Whales) is offered a Bargain by this geist: one year of service helping lost souls move on before being released to their own destiny. Since most people assume this is a god of death, and that they can't go to Heaven unless they accept, nearly everyone offered has taken its Bargain. True to its word, the geist ends the bond one year later (whether or not they want it to), only to make another Bargain almost immediately. The geist only remains unbound for a very narrow window: the time between when the last person dies in a year and when the first person to die does so. No one's clear how it knows either of these events, but it might point to a higher power - or to the entity's Ban.

        Synergy: Sin Eaters are apparently free to interpret how to "help lost souls move on". Some hosts choose to banish every ghost to the underworld; others take on the responsibility of trying to resolve every ghost they can. However, the geist grows angry and demanding if they do not actively work toward one of these goals every single day. Attempting to destroy a ghost, give them new anchors, help them interact with the living, or escape the underworld are all grounds for a Breaking Point against Synergy.
        Because Ankou binds with the first person to die every year, their personality and threshold can be wildly different. Many have no prior occult experiences, though, and their short period of service means they don't have long to learn from other Sin Eaters or occultists. Many are, therefore, naive and buy in to their geist's posturing. During some terms, the Bound interacts with no one else, relying on Ankou for all their knowledge and direction, and diving headlong into the geist's mission.

        Rumors: because this geist is constantly active and changes hosts so often, the geist itself is a figure of infamy and renown among local Sin Eaters, and many contradictory rumors exist. Sometimes the Bound decides to start a new Krewe, sometimes they reclaim leadership over a Krewe that Ankou previously founded, sometimes they work alone - even being hostile to other Sin Eaters, claiming that it is their sole right and duty to guide ghosts. Rumors abound that Ankou has a cult, thousands of years old, which has actively shaped mortal ideas about death - an ancient Sin Eater conspiracy. But you'd think there'd be more evidence of that one.
        Many think Ankou is actually a Deathlord masquerading as a lesser being - certainly no other geists seem to encourage the business of being a psychopomp as it does. Others say that the geist is itself bound into service to a kerberoi, deathlord, or some other power which desires Sin Eaters fulfill this function.
        Some believe the geist's personal goal is to experience life for as long as possible, and knows that being Bound is the best way. Others think that it's spent this whole time searching the lands of the living for something it lost... or is waiting for a monumentus event.
        Many people know that geists feed on a particular type of death, and speculate as to what that is for Ankou. Perhaps the specter is trying to avoid causing the death its meant to. But the most persistent rumor is that it feeds on the death of Sin Eaters, killing its host after the year of service.
        Last edited by Seraph Kitty; 02-06-2018, 07:32 PM.

        Second Chance for

        A Beautiful Madness


        • #5
          The Desiccated Bride

          You take in a sharp breath when you see him. He's long and thin, pale as death but always smiling. He always comes into class late and leaves early sometimes. But not today, today is different. He looks peaceful and serene, his attention not scattered into a million places as he sits down in the empty desk in the looming lecture hall. No one sits next to him, and you make eye contact before picking up your things and sitting next to him. What your mortal eyes can't pick up on, is the figure between the two of you.

          She leans in close and whispers sweet nothings into his ear, her teeth blackened like tar and eyes obscured by long black locks. She wears presumably her pajamas, though she's been wearing them every night since she passed. "He's going to use you up and spit you out like tobacco." He winces as you place your things and get comfortable in the cold plastic chair; would he do that, he ponders. She placed a paper white hand on his shoulder, her silk pajamas frayed at the ends of the sleeves. She prowls around you, like a panther, her marble-like feet making no sound against the floor. You smile at him eagerly, and he offers a trying smile back. Maybe you could share your notes with him? He misses class a lot, and he looks lonely. What you don't know is that he hasn't been lonely since he came back. He is physically incapable of being 'lonely'. Because he has her. And she, him. She slithers behind him and wraps her cold arms around his head, planting a dead kiss on his head. "If this is really what you want, I guess I'll be waiting to say 'I told you so.'"

          The Desiccated Bride was hopeful, once. Her hand taken in marriage by a wealthy young man, she said yes and they ran away, eloping far away. So far away, that when she denied him the chance to know her intimately, no one was there to stop him. He took and took and took, until she was nothing. Less than nothing, a whisper of pain and loneliness. And when she heard her Bound calling out for help, she reached out with her pasty white fingers and hasn't let go. These days she keeps her Bound safe. She saved him, and isn't letting go. Like a jilted lover, she keeps people away from him, and wants nothing more than to extinguish the loathsome spirits that plague her host.

          The Keys of Passion and Pyre-Flame are hers to command, from the love she thought she had, and the way he left her out in the sun to dry, her skin bleached from the effervescent light.