Exam Grind: Horror Edition

Welcome to the Exam Grind! Please Read Below Before Beginning!!

Hello everyone! In light of the Event that just finished and Grind Parties that have been a huge success so far, we have a bunch of people ranking up at once! So why not also grind out our exams under one uniform prompt?

All you need to make sure of is that you have received something personal plot centric as your exam prompt and not a specific mission-like prompt.

Please keep track of only your own word counts per character since exams can only take into account your wc even when involved with others. Do not keep a thread wc total. Additionally, your word count cannot be turned in for rewards unless you feel like turning in any wc beyond the required minimum to complete your exam.

I recommend joining the FTRP Grind Party Discord server if you aren't already there, so you can coordinate with others if you wish to interact with them. Should be fun!

The Spooky Forest wasn't exactly a hot tourist area full of attractions unless you were into the occult and getting the pants scared off of you. Occasionally there was a job flyer or two sent out to the boards about a haunting or restless spirits at an old abandoned graveyard, but in this case, hundreds of flyers clogged up the boards of guilds and commons areas. The plea was urgent and desperate, nigh begging anyone with a pulse to come offer assistance. Some sort of simple occult ritual has amplified every creepy thing in the forest. Spirits are more aggressive and visible. The trees are alive and grabby. The dead are rising. And while all of this is basically normal, usually all the spookiness is confined to the boundaries of the forest, but that is no longer the case. Some creepy crawlies have already made it out and into the unfortunate nearby towns, so the locals skirting the dark, damp area are reaching out for help.

It doesn't help that cultists, dark mages, and goth pranksters have also joined in. They are most definitely not there to help, instead making it all worse to thrive off the horrific chaos. Even stranger, despite the potentially deathly and very real consequences, foolish people are starting to travel to the Spooky Forest to enjoy the thrills and chills, treating it more like an early Halloween where they test their bravery against a humongous haunted house with friends and dates. Do they just not believe in spirits? It's turned into a whole kerfuffle that has already claimed lives, yet with every drop of blood shed the intrigue and terror mounts.

Iris was one of those pesky interlopers that arrived just for the fun of it. He believed in ghosts and wasn't impervious to fear, but the chaos of it all drew him like a moth to flame. He had no desire to try and clear out the zombies, ghosts, and other cursed monsters lurking in the twisted shadows. No, he wanted to watch the others, mage and tourist alike, scream in fear. This was a hunting ground for him and his many vices. Those separated by the pack might not meet their death by Creature from the Black Lagoon, but instead, just go blind as Iris expanded his collection with those worthy. Fear was quite literally an eye-opener, allowing easier appraisals while they were wide with fright. Besides, Iris didn't mind getting abused by a spoopy monster or two, as long as they really put some effort into it. Zombies were notoriously boring when it came to maiming and killing. Iris would much rather come across the vengeful ghost of a hot knife-murdered wife.


wc: 451/3000

Percy, ever one to take up a challenge, wasted no time taking up the flyer from the Fairy Tail job board. The Spooky Forest was experiencing heightened malicious spiritual activity due to some event, and not only were the locals living in towns on the outskirts in danger, but there had already been several deaths within the forest. Of course, he had to go do something!

Though he was a man of science and quite esteemed in his field, Percy believed in ghosts, ghouls, and any other creeper that went bump in the night. He believed they existed so much that, prior to this Spooky Forest issue, he'd created a gadget that could harden ectoplasm and supernatural energies, making them tangible and thus vulnerable to physical attacks and being caught. It looked like a wide-nozzled gun attached to a battery pack. The trigger needed to be held down to charge, but once it released it would blast a red wave at the entity and force it through the veil between the physical and spiritual realm. This was especially helpful to Percy in particular, since he had no magical abilities and thus no access to energies that could affect incorporeal beings.

Always a heavy packer, in addition to the anti-ghost gun on his left hip he had his travel medical pack and laptop in a bag across his shoulder, his H.A.R.M. v1.6 on his right hip, and his pyrocryo gauntlets on each arm. This might weight most down, but Percy wasn't slowed in the least. His body was expertly trained and maintained, lean but plenty muscular. He could easily throw a man over twice his size, so he could lift a deceptively massive amount of weight. In a way, he had brains and brawn but paid for it by lacking the Dagger ease with social skills and, of course, the one thing he wanted most. His own insecurities were ultimately his largest pitfalls.

Arriving at the edge of the haunted woods, he double-checked all his equipment and had his Anti-ghost blaster in his hand before he stepped foot into the darkness. He'd been cool as a cucumber up to this point, but when the rubber hit the road, his anxiety shot up and his hand started faintly shaking. Percy was actually a little bit of a scaredy-cat when it came to ghosts and spirits, hence all the work on preventative measures. And while the thought of being able to fight back was comforting, he now wondered why he was seeking it out as if he'd tested his gun before now. This would be the perfect test...but what if it didn't work? Every twig snap or nearby scream sent convulsions through his body, quickening his steps in hopes of finding someone to travel with for support. There was definitely something following him, but he couldn't see it and it wouldn't reveal itself. A few random blasts had either missed it or the gun didn't work, and neither scenario was ideal. Whatever it was made sure he knew he couldn't turn back and leave the forest to regroup, so he had no choice but to continue in deeper and try not to cry.

"A-Anyone a-around?" he called, his stutter betraying him as usual, no matter how stoic he was trying to play it.

wc: 550/2000

Baird's constant noise was giving his position away before he could get any good stares, which was irking him a little, but not enough for him to say anything. No, he'd just go about this another way. It was nice to see his new friend and teammate starting to fit into the theme of the team, happily drunk and toddling along. The violette was also drunk, of course, but not so much that he couldn't walk straight. Well, Iris always had an odd swagger in his step, but that was just natural to the flamboyant being and not from the substances he was always pumping into his body. The substances were for everyone's good, including his own. No one wanted to deal with him without a veil of numbness around his brain.

Iris decided to slip into full creep mode to get the job done. To mark this momentous random occasion, he'd equipped some pale, ghostly green hues that faintly glowed. These were especially fun. The guy that previously owned them had a brain like a haunted amusement park. Dark circles formed under his eyes and his skin paled a few shades to paperwhite. His steps no longer made any sound. "Hhhhhow about a little....extra company~" he hissed, bringing his hands up almost like he was about to start conducting a symphony. His lips stretched into an unnatural grin that contrasted the mirthless wideness of his eyes. As his fingers trembled, bending and cracking in all directions. Eerily luminescent ectoplasm started to build in his mouth and drip out between his teeth, oozing down his chin and onto the mossy ground below. He then did what any possessed person was good at and literally spewed the spirits out of his mouth.

There were five in all. One was a gnarly pirate woman, missing most of the lower part of her left leg except for her femur, which she still used but caused a limp from the height difference. There was also a cannonball hole in her sternum, but she seemed far more annoyed with the bony stem she had to walk on, though she didn't have to walk at all. The second ghost was your typical little girl with long hair covering her face, clutching a sweet looking rag doll. Her uncle had strangled her to death, though, so she liked to creep up on men and part her hair, giving them quite the startling expression on her decaying face. The third kinda freaked even Iris out, mainly because he'd been hanged and his eyes were popping out of his skull to hand loosely against his cheeks. His head never quite angled right on his shoulders either, but that was to be expected. The last two were never human, but spirits all the same. A mated pair of undead snowy owls, wrongly poached and possibly more vengeful than the other three. Their wings were transformed in death to display the deceased faces of loved ones on the insides when spread. They also loved to screech loud enough in forest intruders to cause hearing damage and chase them down as they ran with red eyes glowing. They were pretty big now too and liked eating people whole and pooping them out as ghost turds as the ultimate insult, just as they would have a field mouse.

Iris wiped his chin of the haunting residue, grimacing. "That'sss always so hhhhhhorribly nasty~" he frowned, turning toward Baird...or where he thought Baird would be. Peering around slowly, he wondered where his drunk friend had slipped off to. "Baaaaiiird?" he wailed, sounding like a lost ghost himself. Ah well, he'd find him in a minute. "Alright you guyssss," he addressed the five ghosts, about to issue orders. "Go forth and chassssse some goodiess my way. Don't touch the eyesss~ Thossse are mine."

After his words the five turned and floated slowly off in a fan-like pattern, passing through trees and any solid matter nearby as if it wasn't there. Turning, Iris did the same. He phased right through a tree as if he was also a vengeful ghost. It was time to find one of his teammates to keep him company until his pretty ghosties brought him presents. "Baaaird? Aeluuuu?" he called in the ghastly voice associated with these particular set of peepers.

wc: 1169/3000

"SCREEEEEEEEEEEE!"

The screech was enough to seize every muscle in his well-maintained body. It was also close enough for one of his ears to start bleeding, which was alarming on several levels. The two-toned boy was already spooked by the forest in general, but to have something that loud approach without warning and already be that close? Percy, once he had access to his neck muscles, haltingly looked over his left shoulder to try and find the source. He immediately wished he hadn't. Desperately longed for ignorance. The Curse of knowledge might do him in on the spot.

Two ghastly owls were soaring toward him, passing through the forest trees as if they were in the open sky. Their red eyes ghoulishly glowed, at first swiveling like spotlights searching the night, but within seconds, both sets were bathing him in their hostile light. They hovered in the air before him and spread their wings to form a spooky projector. The two spirits began their haunting show to torture their prey.

Images began flashing on the undersides of the wings in quick, jarring succession as the two hauntingly hooted. Closing his eyes would have been a wise choice, but there was something about fear that compelled most to remain aware, even when it only made things worse. Bloodied corpses jumped from wing to wing. It was only a fleeting moment before he realized what he was actually being shown. Seeing his brother and sister dead in various, hyper-realistic ways was a feeling so profoundly sickening that he crumpled down to his knees. It was so awful that he couldn't look away now even if he turned off his survival instincts. Percy knew it wasn't real (hopefully), but the psychological distress it caused was. Artemis, Pandora, and even the Dagger childrens' butler/nanny/trainer Wallard Baldwin were both repeatedly shown being killed or already dead in various stages of decay. Why were they showing him this?

To protect himself from going mad, the more analytical part of his brain took over. This was just a terror tactic. From what he could deduce from the frequent and abrupt changes was that these weren't memories or real images. That was a relief, if someone could find any source of that in this terrible situation. So it could see into its target's psyche to pull up the most painful images of loved ones perishing. Perhaps that explained the headache he now had that only intensified the longer the displaycontinues. That was not ideal, but something else occurred to him. It was only showing the deaths of Pandora, Artemis, and Mr. Baldwin. Shouldn't there...shouldn't there be more? He could have looked away now that he was calmer, but instead, he kept watching, waiting, hoping someone else would flash across, as macabre as that was. There was no one else. There were only three people in his life that he seemed to care enough for to crumble if they died. Only Percy could come to a more depressing conclusion than what two pissed off owl ghosts could show him. Three people were better than none, but it certainly had a plethora of implications, none of which the young man appreciated.

Since their little show had lost its effect, the two owls screeched and flapped, flying in a dizzying circle around him. All that was left to do was eat him, so their beaks unhinged and dropped low enough to swallow a prone human, though it seemed the twin birds intended to just share him.

Percy certainly wasn't going to kneel there in his existential crisis and be killed. Hopping to his feet, he took off as fast as his strong legs could carry him, hoping he'd survive this haunted forest.


[wc: 624 || total: 1174/2000]

One: Avast, Young Idiots!

As the pirate woman woman pointlessly limped through the air, passing through all manner of physical form, she wheezed out many an "Arg" and "Ahoy" as if that would attract someone to scare the pants off of, but no dice. Despite the fact that the hole in her chest was way too big for this to make sense, that and she was incorporeal, the wind rushing past the gorey hole make a low howling noise, like someone blowing on the top of an empty glass bottle. So she haunted her way through the forest, hole wailing, muttering random pirate slang and old shanties, one of which she seems to have written herself in her copious amounts of free time being dead.

"O'er an' O'er I says to ye,
Point yer cannon away from me!
Ye fiddle an' faddler,
Twisted, I says ta stop,
Oh, avast, ye daft paddler!
Cannon's 'bout ta pop!
Fate's cursed tobacco,
Fell from igit's pipe,
Fuse's lit, bucko,
Fear my time is ripe!
Boom, the cannon's call,
Whoosh, the cannon's ball,
Cap'n smacks the wall,
Now this lass haunts them all!"

Seeming the victim of either a trecherous or especially terrible young sailor, her warbling tale explained the hole, but not the leg. Perhaps that's in Volume 2: The Prequel. She actually seemed about to start figuring out those lyrics when she finally happened upon a lively lad with a popped polo collar running through the trees. He was whooping and hollering, and if she'd thought he was by herself, she mas mistaken. A few feet behind him was the rest of his frat house boys and their giggly tavern wenches. One of the younger boys was playing the part of pack mule for the large, metal keg on his back. Already pretty inebriated, the rowdy crowd were using this as some sort of test of strength as well as hazing some younger boys into their brood. Perfect!

"AHOY!" she called again, appearing before them with two cutlasses drawn. Her silvery hair and ragged clothing wafted around her as if she were submerged in the ocean, and her once pretty face was sunken in and leathery. Cracked lips spread into a smile as they all stopped short to gape at her. "Would 'at be rum ya 'ave in yer metal barrel thar, matey?"

"I-It's b-b-beer, m-ma'am.." one of them wheezed, drawing her one-eyed glare. Perhaps there was a shanty for that injury as well? Or maybe there was an eye under that patch.

"GARR?!" the sea-wise wraith grumbled. "Ma'am?! I be the cap'n, not some bonny lass draped in lace! An' beer?! The way it tastes and smells, pour it back in the ol' horse! Piss I tells ya!"

"S-Sorry!"

"SORRY, WHAT?"

"SORRY, CAPTAIN!"

"AYE! Tha's better..." simpered the pirate, though this was all just a game. There was no way she'd let any of these sorry S.O.B.s live. First she demanded the beer she'd just insulted. It wasn't as if she could taste it, and even as she partially solidified her body for effect, the pale gold liquid simply slid down her gullet and ran out the large hole in her chest like a broken fountain. Why the group hadn't scattered and run was beyond her. If they had, most of them would have had a higher success rate of survival. From her anyway. Didn't anyone have any survival skills these days? Either way, they all continued to be frozen in place, watching her in glazed-eyed silence. "Ye know, ye all remind me of a certain werthless sailor I used to know..." she mused, observing their slack jaws. "In fact, the one tha' gave me this," the pirate motioned to her missing middle, before releasing a woeful, rage-dripping shriek and proceeding to rope the group together and begin hacking away at them with her blades. She was careful to heed her master's warning, though. All the eyes would be collected into a jar with the lid secured tightly.


Two: If Looks Could Kill

Having much quicker luck than her pirate comrade, the little grudge girl was deceptively fast and exceptionally creepy. Her favorite way to initiate her hauntings was by waiting near a path, then moving out from behind a tree a few feet ahead of them. She'd solidify herself, standing there still as death in her pale purple nightgown with her head lowered. Thick curtains of black hair obscured her face as she stood there, inviting anyone with a heart to overcome their instincts to run to instead help out a poor, lost child. Occasionally she'd add a sniffle or sob in for effect if it didn't seem they were the "good person" type, gripping her rag doll tighter at her side. She only did this to men, since those were the focus of all of her ire. Even now, in the cold grip of death, she had no idea why her uncle choked the life out of her in the middle of the night. She'd thought they were friends! He took her toy shopping and fishing all the time before. She'd loved him dearly, so why, why did he sneak into her bedroom that night and steal her? Why did he take her to that shack out in the woods where no one would find her? Why did he wring her neck? Why, why, why?!

If looks could kill. Well, in her case, her looks could kill!

"Oh my! You gave me a scare there, little one," a kindly man startling, nervously laughing as he clutched the camera he'd almost dropped. He looked absolutely rediculous. There were sensors and microphones strapped all over him, even to his floppy hat. This one was about the same age as her uncle. If she'd had eyes, she'd have rolled them. The ghost hunter, paranormal activity weekend warriors were annoying. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew that he wasn't a bad guy, but logic and reasoning were not for vengeful ghosts to have. No, even though she knew he was probably someone's daddy, the fact that he could also be some little girl's homicidal uncle was all it took for her to always commit to her afterlife's goal. "Where's your mom and dad, missy? I can help you find them," he continued, his concern for what he thought was a frightened, living child causing him to ignore all biological signs of danger. Amusingly, though, every single one of his ghost sensing appratuses were silent and normal, even though he was within an arm's reach of a truly malicious spirit. He'd found the very thing he sought for thrills, yet had no clue.

He touched her. For a second he felt nothing but cold. It didn't register until she went full ghost and his hand slipped right through her. Reeling slightly from the shock, he inhaled to scream but would never get out a single peep. His eyes widened as she tilted her face up, the curtain of hair parting in the middle and revealing something truly horrifying. Her decaying face was unlike anything capable of being recreated for horror entertainment or even by the human mind in nightmares. It was so, so much worse. His eyes met her empty, black sockets. Only thin bands of flesh held the pieces of skull and muscle together on her face. There's no need to discuss the bug situation or further gorey details, so it can be left that the sight was so devastatingly scary that, like everyone she showed it to, the ghost hunter simply died on the spot. She was just a little girl, so she couldn't fathom the very real responses the body would have to such a thing that would result in death. All she cared about was that he saw what was done to her and he was dead. Reaching down, she plucked out his eyes and placed them in a jar, placing it inside her doll for safe keeping.

Without further pause, she lowered her head and darted back into the woods to find another victim.


Three: Swing Low

Eustace was a different kind of ghost amongst the group of five. He wasn't really in this for the revenge against stand-ins for those who had wronged him. No, he'd deserved the fate he got and he was proud of it! Paunchy and older at his time of demise, Eustace had killed a man while robbing a bank over a century ago. Well, that was the crime he'd got caught for, anyway. He'd committed many other heinous crimes, enjoying the no-good scoundrel he was. Some people are just born bad. He never tried to keep his evil deeds a secret, but he didn't want to get caught, neither! The world had been wild and more spaced out in those times, so it was easy to escape and hide without being tracked. If only he hadn't done that last heist three sheets to the wind. Okay, so he was a little cocky! It was alright. He'd lived a dasterdly, long life. They were pretty fond of hangings back then, so as we swung from the gallows, he gained his rather unnerving eye protrusions and crooked neck, but that didn't stop the flannel, cowboy booted man from whistling and swaggering about like the outlaw he used to be. He'd hoped the next 'life' would be one he could shake up as well, and he got his wish!

He wasn't a particularly good haunter, though. His favorite method was chasing around pretty girls and jumping out from behind trees with a "RAAUGH!" while trying to honk their, well, assets. His thing was more general, annoying terror and jump scares than killing, though if he actually caught someone...well, he wasn't opposed to it every now and then. Murder was just boring and overdone. It was the fear on their faces and their screams that did it for him. It gave him power. He didn't really even have to do anything! The ripped skin at his neck from the rough old hanging rope, the unnatural angle his neck and head listed to, and his unsocketed eyes were enough to cause most to scream and throw up. It gave him the belly laughs to watch!


Four and Five: Owl Poop

Obviously we just saw what spirit #4 and #5 were up to. Poor Percy Dagger.

---

"Mmm~, yessss..." Iris literally hissed, simpering as Aeluri came into view and mentioned his ghastly gazers. "They are a newer fiiind~ The only downssside is this terrible craving for naaachooosss...."

As his feline-esque friend darted behind a tree and her hand passed through him, he let out a ghastly giggle. It tickled his insides, and he couldn't resist floating to rest over her as he humored her request for him to hide. "Fufufu~ you're inssssside me~" Ghost Iris joked, unable to resist. Knowing she'd start swatting, he moved to stand near her and out of sight, and that's when Baird reappeared. The drunken man noticed something was different, but couldn't seem to put his finger on it. Iris found this amusing as well, reaching out to try and pass his intangible hand through somewhere special and hoping for a little shock, but spirit shenanigans had quickly gotten old. Now that he was using these peepers around his peers, he saw the obvious inadequacies of using them on their own. As someone who loved to be touched with varying degrees of force, being intangible was a buzz killer. On that note, as he remained hidden, he opened up eye sockets on his forehead for the creeper peepers so he could requip his normal lavendar ones in the main slots. Other than having four visible eyes like some sort of alien or demon, he was back to his normal tangible self. Of course, that meant he reached out to hang on Aelu, always the clinger.

Iris had heard the distant whimper ahead in the forest too and now the crashing of foot falls heading toward them. "Oh yay~ My feathery friends are shooing a little mouse my way~" he purred, officially seeming more himself. Inhaling deeply, the slayer scented the fear and sorrow on whoever it was noisily coming their way. Just as a delicious man with half white, half-red hair stumbled past their tree, Iris stuck out a leg and simply tripped him. "We'll take it from here," he commented to the ghost owls on his trail. They seemed uninclined to listen to him until the pale eyes in his forehead flashed, then they obeyed and flapped off to find some other poor souls to eat. "Well, well...Hello there, handsome~" he said to their new toy, a wicked grin spreading over his lips.


[wc: 2126 || 3295/3000 || Exam finally complete!]

At first, he thought he'd caught a lifted tree root. Not that panicked people running had the time to concentrate on footing, but Percy was quite adept at balance and running, so he was rather confused when he was suddenly eating dirt. He hit the ground hard and skid, barely getting time to look back to see a leg before he was shoved back down into the ground. Someone had tripped him! And what was holding him down? An owl? No, that didn't feel like a talon. He turned his head and struggled to look up and back. A woman. There was a woman there stepping on him, not letting him up. So it would go from bad to worse, would it? Seemed par for the course. How could he have been so stupid and come here alone? And as soon as he thought that, it was echoed from his aggressor. Just rub it in. He said nothing, mostly because fear wouldn't let him, but also because he knew his terrified stuttering would only excite and fuel his tormentors on.

Yes, tormentors. Plural. He still couldn't see whoever tripped him, but yet another person had stepped closer. This man seemed less sadistic as a first impression and instead came off odd. Long green hair and a wobbly gait...was he drunk? It didn't matter, because soon his focus shifted to the violin he played, but even that thought didn't stay long. A bloody, two-headed cat with white fur was called for and being ordered to give him some hallucinations. Then there was more music. This was all just...a lot to process when he was already so clearly frightened. Was the little band of imps and the victorian lady really there or had the hallucinations already started?

Oh. If Percy had thought he was already hallucinating before, he quickly realized how wrong he was. He forgot all about the pain in his back as the cat's magic started to work on him. There was a searing pain in his head, then he could no longer see the forest. It was a large, ornate room that costed more than most people make in a lifetime. At first, his attackers were still there, warping and deforming into dark creatures more aesthetically in line with a haunted forest. He imagined that they spoke curses and painful truths to him in hissing whispers, all while a twisted song played by the imps in the corner. While the identities of the trio were unknown to him, the older man also present in the room was all too familiar. It was his grandfather, a man he'd rarely been in a room with this way since the incident. It seemed he'd be reliving said incident today.

As if having an out of body experience, he watched his younger self walk into the room. Younger Percy was well on his way with physical training, so he was by no means slight despite his gentle countenance. This Percy had a head full of dark red hair and his face was free of scarring. Those that didn't pay attention might have mistaken him for his older brother, Artemis, until they noticed how young he was. Cradled in his hands were a pair of gauntlets and in his matching eyes the bright spark of hopefulness. But among the hopefulness was apprehension. The head of the Dagger family was intimidating, and it was no secret to anyone within these walls how Mephistopheles felt about the youngest Dagger son having no magical abilities at all. Any perceived weak link in the chain was unacceptable, so Percy had worked tirelessly to make up for his shortcoming. With any luck, he could use what he did possess to stand on equal ground with his family, or that was the idea. In the end, as he showed the gauntlet's ability to make it seem as if he had the powers of fire and ice, it sent the family head into something of a rage. The fiery gauntlet was swatted back at him, his grandfather disgusted. Since it was a prototype, it malfunctioned and spewed not only the volatile fuel back on his face and head, but it also lit that fuel ablaze, thus permanently injuring him. The hair follicles on one side would never grow Dagger red hair again, the scar would never disappear, and his eye would require drops for the rest of his life.

Watching it happen as a spectator was weird. It was like he was remembering it without all the personal feelings and trauma, but the hallucination wouldn't have that for long. No, before long he was back where he should be, caught in a loop as the gauntlet was smacked back in his face over and over, the burning and searing happening all over again in excruciating detail and accuracy. What wasn't accurate was the shifting form of the patriarch, slowly turning into a red-skinned devil with every backhanded swipe that sent a new wave of agony. "S-Stop..." he muttered, voice muffled by the dirt his face was smashed into. "STOP! IT HURTS!" he screamed more fully, burn after burn after burn popping like fireworks in the sky while the devil himself laughed and the demonic imps' demented tune grew louder and more chaotic. Tears squeezed from his right eye, sliding over his face and into the ground.

Meanwhile, outside the hallucination he was caught in, his body had its own reaction to the magic being used on him. Still unbeknownst to him, the allergic-like reaction he had to all things supernatural was building and growing in severity with prolonged contact. Percy's body began to twitch randomly, bordering on convulsions. After a few more minutes, blood began to ooze from his nose, and even if Percy had been able to come out of the hallucination, he wouldn't have been able to function.

Peculiarly, about the time Percy's eyes rolled back in his head and his cries went silent, a strange, dim pulse rushed out from his body. It looked a little like a thin fog, but what it did made up for its lackluster appearance. In an effort to save the helpless man from dying, something secret and buried deep within released just a small burst of anti-magic to negate the harmful magic, almost like an immune system finally deciding to fight off an infection. Should the haze not be detected, a slight breeze also seemed to accompany it, rustling the nearby leaves of trees and bushes and attempting to negate any magic present.

[wc: 1091 || total: 2265/2000 - A Rank Exam complete]

Iris had been somewhat content to stay back and just watch as his friends played with their toy. He'd come in if something interesting presented itself, but for now, he'd watch. Judging from that unfortunate burn that marred an otherwise beautiful face broke his heart, but not as much as what said burn had done to the eye surrounded by that fire-tainted flesh. He could tell that it was damaged and that's what had caused the color to shift. Fake heterochromia and a pair ruined by injury at that, Iris was utterly uninterested in the tormented, ugly boy so far. Even worse, he sensed nothing in those eyes or in that body. Was he not a mage? Why would a non-mage willingly come here alone? Sure, this whole 'event' of sorts was drawing foolish people to their doom, but this guy had no defense or bravery to prove. He didn't even see any paranormal equipment. Sometimes stupid was cute, but this was overboard.

Just wanting to double down on his assumption that this boy was useless, Iris stepped forward and stooped at the boy's head. Reaching down, he attempted to pull something from his good eye, as he had as a bar trick more than a few hundred times since he'd known Aeluri. As expected, nothing came. Utter disgust crossed his face and he walked back toward the tree they'd hidden behind, content to watch his friends play with him. "Nasty," he muttered to himself moodily, disappointed that what his ghostly owls had brought him would benefit him no more than to enjoy a sadistic show.

But no, it was so much worse than that. As the young man seemed to succumb quickly, proving to be the epitome of disappointment, some sort of haze pulsed out as if he'd generated a breeze. That was strange, since Iris sensed nothing--

"GAH!" he cried, feeling the sicky ghost eyes in his forehead disappear. While the ones in his sockets remained, they dulled and became as utterly useless as this owl turd passed out in the dirt. "GAAAH!!! OH NO...WHAT DID HE DO?" Iris wailed, reaching up to rub his eyes, though he knew full well what had happened, even if it didn't make sense. His pretty face twisted into a dark snarl. There were few things Iris hated more than being blind, which is why he avoided the Neutral Grounds at all costs. "I can't friggin' SEE!" growled the alien now in quite the foul mood. Negation? Where had that come from? This guy had no potential at all, magic or otherwise, and then he just disarmed and blinded all three of them? Aeluri grabbing his elbow caused him to flinch in surprise and uncertainty. He hadn't noticed her approach and he couldn't sense her at all, but only a friend would know what nullifying magic meant for the ocular requip made. Grumbling a thank you, he'd gladly accept her help navigating away from this area, hoping that putting some distance between them and the strange man might alleviate the effects faster.

[wc: 511 || total: 806]