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Haunted Halloween: Spooky Story Event!
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Overview
Gather around the campfire closely for on this Halloween, you’ll hear your spooky legends recreated by the whole Intrepid Team! Our hand picked winners will be read aloud, as we inform all Verra citizens of the terrors inbound. While many tales are no more than gossip and hearsay, perhaps our spookiest tales will come true one day.
Are you a Tolstoy in disguise, perhaps a Poe? Express your tormented twisted soul through the power of words. We invite you to share a local legend you’ve heard about the monsters lurking in your ancestor's homeworld Verra. While the world is still shrouded in mystery, many tales exist about all manner of creatures that haunt and prey upon unsuspecting victims this time of year.
Rules
Horror Short Story Night is a chance to go wild with your creativity, we hope to see all sorts of entries from our community but here are a few guidelines for you to follow:
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Please refrain from sexually explicit, or racially charged short stories.
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All submissions must be posted here on the Horror Short Story Night Event page to be considered.
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All entries submitted must be your original creation. Sorry, plagiarism of any kind will not be allowed. PDF’s, and text documents will be invalid, please upload your story directly to our forums through the comment feature.
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Text limit should be under 1,000 words.
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Deadline is October 31st, 2018 at 12PM PDT, submissions after this date and time will be invalid.
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Each Entry must follow a specific format, please refer to this example:
GMSam said:Username: GM SamEntry:
It was a quiet night, the Intrepid Team was working late. Rain mixed with the L.A smog, creating a haze of elements to choke on. Knock, knock, knock. Who could it be? Surely not soft Peter, those knocks were far too loud. Knock, knock, knock again. Harder this time, impatient even. Grabbing the sword of Jeffery, Jeff Delierre called out to the intruder. “Who is it?” No reply. Perhaps they had left he thought, reassured of their safety. KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK. Reaching his trembling hand out to meet the door, the windows crashed, and from the thunderous silhouette of the night, the Sandal King Steven himself appeared. “DADDY’S HOME. NOW WHERE ARE MY ART ASSETS.” Shrieks of terror filled the air, to this day no one knows where the Art Team is. Family and friends, heartbroken can be seen wandering, looking, hoping for some trace of them.
*Note* While GM Sam’s entry is Intrepid related, it says nothing of the Ashes of Creation’s world Verra! Better luck next time GM Sam!
The Team at Intrepid Studios will handpick their favorites. Alongside receiving a forum shout out, and a no longer available Alpha One Intrepid Pre-Order pack, your Horror Short Story will be featured on the October 31st Spook-A-Thon Stream. Good luck our Short Story Writers, make us proud!
Don't forget to post and share on Social Media with the hashtag #AshesOfCreation. We will be picking winners from Social Media as well! ️
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Comments
User: blankwords
Discord: blank
Entry: The Silent Massacre
It was quiet.
Quiet enough to be tranquil, but more of an eerie sort of feeling. The only sound was the furious wind. The only feeling was the chill that swept through you at every gust.
Step. Step. Step.
You were grateful that the cobblestone beneath your feet was a little warmer, but you could only feel it between the callouses. There was no light aside from the magic lanterns that hanged outside of every building. You weren’t quite at the castle of the developed Node but your fingers twitched at the sight of it.
You feel a hand grasp at your ankles and try to shake it off, disgusted at both the homeless and what the new masters of the Node brought to your old home.
Those undeserving pricks. How could they take all of this from you and let everything turn this bad?
For ten agonizing minutes you walked, slowly but confidently, up the stairs and to the massive doors of the castle. The castle you used to rule.
And filled with bloodlust on an incredibly cold fateful night, you slaughtered every single one of the bastards in their sleep. You made sure no one heard a sound, the entire castle as quiet as it was when everyone succumbed to fatigue. You walk outside and the wind bites at your skin, taking advantage of your lack of protection against it. A deep inhale burns the inside of your nose, the exhale reminds you that you're still human.
Maybe not, you think. The weight of the invisible blood above your head almost welcoming.
The wind gusts a little faster, your skin starts to burn from the cold.
Your vengeance didn't sate the hunger, only amplified it.
You have to keep going. Killing. Destroying Verra node by node.
Soon you'll become a legend.
From Elves to Dwarves and Succulent Plants
which choke you till you're blue.
But none of these things are as awesome
Or as terrifying indeed
As the corruption which chased them
While the world was brought to it's knees.
Pacts were made and traps were lain
As Corruption did ensue
Consuming the world in fire
Erasing everything we once knew.
Now there are less than one-hundred
We grow smaller day by day
As brother murders brother
And lovers are left to be slain
This world has nearly ended
There is no where left to hide
The Gods have all abandoned us
We can only blame our pride.
Here we flee down under
To the caves, we hide in shame
Dreaming of the future
And the world we shall reclaim.
Entry: Fruit On The Grave
Two boys from a nearby village were playing near the ruins of a church. It was a cold windy night and while they knew their parents would scold them for staying out so late they had continued playing regardless. Running through the headstones and striking them with sticks the two boys laughed playing a game of tag. Reaching the end of the graveyard the boys spotted a weathered headstone on the far edge of the yard. It appeared no different than the rest however perched atop it was a shiny red apple. “Where do you think that came from?” The first boy said. “I don't know but I sure am hungry.” The second boy said running to the grave and snatching up the apple. He smiled taking a big hearty bite. The first boy didn't think this was a good idea though he was starting to feel at ease when nothing seemed to happen. However just as he was about to take a step forward two bony arms reached up from the grave pulling the second boy under so quickly he could barely scream. The first boy shaken and terrified ran screaming all the way back to the village.
Username: Drakehiro
Entry
Nyalia: Sit down Dillia I have a story to tell.
Did you know before the Harbingers broke through the sky there was a deeper evil seeping beneath these sands?
As you know, some Gods fight for evil deeds. Even as Gods they still fumble for who is all powerful. But who decides? Who are they trying to impress? Not the people I suppose. There is a darker power about, a true evil that takes no form, no name, no recognition except for the fear inside you when you are afraid. It feeds of off evil deeds and corrupts the land around you. Sickening the Dünzenkell Kingdom and every surface in the land. It creeps along the ground *Nyalia crawls her fingers towards Dillia’s shrunken form* and slowly suffocates all life and happiness in its grasp.
*Dreg sneaks behind Dillia and surprises her with a lunge and a loud BOO*
AHH! *screams Dillia*
*Nyalia chuckles* oh little one, you are so easy to fright. These are the stories we tell you children to behave.
*Dillia smiles but slowly forms a frown for she remembers what her mother once said when struck by the great shake beneath a supply cart*
“Dillia my love, I have seen from the tablets below Great King Grimlaey’s Halls. The shadows are here, they are coming, and they should be feared.”
Inspiration from Ashes of Creation Wiki Lore!
Entry:
Let me tell you a story to chill the bones out of you:
The cursed lake
There is this lake if you fall asleep with the silence of the water luster, is immediately turns into hell. Women look long after the husbands who go fishing, because many have not returned. The only chance is to get to the shore as quickly as possible, otherwise goodbye. The waves rise to two meters, suddenly begins the storm of no longer seeing the shore. Because the lake is very large, there are huge waves of overturning you immediately. The fishermen say they saw the devil's eyes in the water many widows have been made do to this lake of hell`s gate. No one theirs to sleep in the night or even go there. Some time you can hear the screams coming from the waters. Beware the cursed lake beware the devil`s gate.
Sorry but English not first language.
Your heart beats faster as you hurry back to your village. You grasp your staff tighter in your cold fingers as you remember the warnings about creatures that come out when the sun sets. Your mind scrambles to remember the few spells you've learned.
You look down at the strange light coming from your sack and remember the eerie beauty of the gem you found while out mining. It was worth it, you think.
Suddenly you hear a voice, faint and yet very close. You stop and look around. There's no one there.
It must be your imagination so you start to head back again.
Then you hear your name, the voice whispery and soft, but close, right next to your ear. You feel goosebumps on your skin as you look around warily, but you do not stop.
The village is close. Surely you'll be safe once you get in the gates.
***
"Hey, you heard about the rumors of the new night creature?" The night watchman asks his colleague.
"Oh yeah, you mean the one that takes over your body?" he answers.
"Yes," the first watchman exclaims. "You know I heard it can take over entire villages and such if it's undetected. "
"Huh," the second watchman snorts in disbelief.
"They say a village out in the north has--"
Suddenly they hear a scream just a few paces away from them. They hail the other members of their team as they hurry to where they heard the scream come from.
They reach the area of the new settler homes and found someone standing in front of a door seemingly in a daze. They recognize him as one of the new Vaelune mages who had just joined the village that day.
"Master, are you well?" they asked.
The mage seemed to start and then slowly turned to face them. His eyes looked blank, his skin pasty like he had seen a ghost. His lips stretch out into a strange smile, as if he wasn't used to it. "Yes," he answers in a hoarse voice. "I thought I saw something and gave myself a scare. I am sorry to disturb you."
The first watchman looked at him closely to make sure. At first there seemed a strange sheen to his eyes, but when the mage looked to him feeling his gaze, it disappeared. "Well then, if you're sure," he says. "Looks like you were just out. Be careful next time and try to get home earlier."
"Yes, thank you."
***
A few weeks later, a team of adventurers stumbled upon the small village. It was quiet and unoccupied, but everywhere, in the village walls and houses, were signs of a violent struggle.
"Looks like we have another one boys," the guardian leader says.
"That Nimrah orb sure is a pain," a ranger mutters.
The guardian ignores the complaint and draws his sword. " Get ready your weapons."
(note: Nimrah orb is a made up object, but the actual word I took from somewhere else. In Arabic, it means pure, but in this story the orb is supposed to be corrupted.)
Entry:
We were left behind.
Souls searching for meaning and stripped of our identity. Stripped of our race, our class, our gender. We were trapped in an endless loop of obtaining random armor and weaponry to be the survivor that gets Glorious Victory. None of us were sure what it really meant, but it seemed some felt it was the measure of their worth as a blonde man.
I felt there was a bigger meaning to life. A challenge to make the world a better place. My failure to obtain a large amount of Glorious Victories was my tragedy, but it was also my triumph. I knew that the more I tried, the better the world would be.
As I stood in the lobby, dancing with my identical quadruplet brothers, the anticipation of another chance for Glorious Victory awaited. We smiled in unison and shifted in unison. We did everything together. My sweet, sweet brothers.
Then the world just blinked away as my brothers proceeded without me, and I was a promise unfulfilled. I was erased. They didn't even call for me. Is this all there was for me? Was this the end? I saw nothing but an endless void, with the sweetest song I had heard so many times before filling my life until the end of my existence.
Entry:
"Thank you for using Sanctus Storage Solutions, please come again." Cecil the Banker was bored. This new posting he had taken to run the company operation on the newly discovered Verra was not turning into the adventure he had imagined from the recruiting posters that had gone up all over Sanctus after the ancient portals had activated after being just archaeological curiosities for thousands of years. Normally the "heroes" that Santus had sent came in, dropped their stuff on the counter for him to wave his stylus over and send into secure, dimensional storage, and walked out without even acknowledging his existence. But today after one of them had dropped a pile of what appeared to be bloody, avian heads on the counter without even putting them into bags to keep the seepage from getting on the floor, one of them had tossed him an old coin as a tip for "getting blood all over the floor." He had put the coin in his pocket after an initial glance. It didn't look to be gold or silver, but a cheaper metal of some kind, but he immediately felt some strange pull from it."Percy, can you watch the counter for a few, I am going to take a break in my office." Leaving his trusted VP of marketing doing stylus duty, he retreated to the calming confines of his office. There he pulled out the coin from earlier and gave it a good look. It looked old, like before what people were calling "The Fall" old. It had a slight tingling feeling to it as he traced the different designs on the faces. Shrugging, he sat down behind his desk and tried to relax. The constant stream of what the "heroes" deemed to be treasure and brought in were sometimes horrifying. Severed limbs of various animals, untanned hides, in addition to the traditional "treasure" types of weapons and armor. He had recently hired one of the new "mages" that had started appearing to work their "magic" to remove the smell on a weekly basis.
He sat there thinking about what had brought him to Verra, lost in thought, he finally realized he had been rubbing the old coin over and over in his hand. He felt a strange pull and a weird sensation took over his body. He felt himself being pulled towards some far away place. Next thing he realized his vision was distorted. I looked like he had been transported outside into the woods. But everything was much larger in scale. He felt a burning rage and a hunger to kill. As he moved forward he realized that he was outside what looked to be on of the many settlements that had sprung up all over Verra, but he couldn't tell which one. But he also realized he wasn't alone. Around him were twisted, black "bunnies" with huge teeth. They were running in circles and nipping at each other. Cecil realized he was also a bunny, but weirdly enough, was fine with it. He felt a communal pull to the other bunnies, like they were waiting for some signal or sign. All of the sudden, what he knew to be one of the rumored "spider demons" appeared next to him. He had seen flyers circulated in the town from "heroes" describing their encounters in the wilds of Verra. Instead of panicking him, he felt even more power and rage. The mass of bunnies and the spider demon moved towards the settlement.
Chomp, gnash, attack. He moved with the group as they ran towards the walls of the town. Alarm horns and bells began to sound in the settlement. Adventures rushed forward only to be knocked back by the spider demon and demon bunnies jumped on the their prone bodies to rend and tear. Cecil saw one of the new "mages" standing at the back getting ready to cast some sort of thing they were calling "spells" now. He jumped forward in a burst of speed and took a chunk out of the "mages" lightly armored calf. The spider demon had set the stables on fire and was moving towards the town hall. Bloodied and dead "heroes" lay around the town square. His bunny friends were killing off the downed and the helpless. As he turned to hop to his next victim, Cecil saw a large "hero" with a sword running for him. With a battle yip, he moved to engage. Only to see a large amount of sword sticking out of his chest. He felt the pressure and slight pain, but next thing he realized he was back in his office.
Shaking, and covered in sweat, he raised a hand to his chest where the "hero" had run him through. Nothing was wrong other than he felt a bit drained. He realized he had dropped the coin on the floor while this was going on. Scooping it up, he saw that it was just a cheap piece of metal. It didn't have the same draw for him that it did before. He made his way back out to the counter and relieved Percy. Taking up his normal post, he got back to the work that never ended.
"Welcome to Sanctus Storage Solutions, may I help you?"
Username: Warfen
Entry:
I am a bit of an odd one, I never really enjoyed social events or going to places with lots of people. I'm the person that growing up preferred to be by myself or with a very few carefully selected friends but that's not what makes me odd. You see I have a bit of a secret power; I can see people's energy. How vibrant that energy is, is due to how much energy that person has but the color of the energy tells me how long that person has to live. Green means the person is still early on in their life, yellow-orange is about midway and red means their death is soon. The colors don't usually change suddenly but slowly. For example someone can be between a yellow and a green. There have been cases where I have seen someone’s energy color change drastically. I’ve also learned that I can be a direct influence in the color, if I know someone is about to die I can take action making their energy’s color go from red to green or if someone is a solid green I can even choose to get them killed making their color go from green to red.
***
I decided to journey into the world of Verra to seek out new opportunities, I had been an outcast because of how I behave around people. No one knew of my power but having this power made me very sadistic because I found great joy in knowing others would soon find great pain in death or losing a loved one. This life became a great burden, what once made me find great joy now brings me pain as I had no friends so I wanted to change all that. I searched all lover Verra using my secret powers to find a new kingdom and finally I did, The Kingdom of Konoha. The people’s energy was greener than all other places which is why I chose to stay here.
I had gotten a very unique job, one that fit me very well. I was part scout part sentinel for Konoha. The thing is that, I had a desire that buried deep within myself which was to actually help people. My sadism drove me somewhere I didn't want to be but I still had to give that side of me a bit of pleasure. So the scout side of my job was to delve a bit into darkness and derive pleasure from that while my sentinel part of my job was to watch over the people of Konoha thus helping the people of this kingdom.
One day while on sentinel duty I was watching the kingdom on our great walls when suddenly one by one everyone is turning red. There has to be something wrong, I thought, it sets me into a panic. I start running but the only way off this wall is quite a ways away. I pull out a mirror I keep in my pocket and it turns out even my energy is red. I then take a peek at the bottom of the wall, it's the king's personal mage. He gives me a very menacing smile, speaks an incantation, I then suddenly cannot move. It must be some sort of spell. As I am forced to look at him he starts to speak another incantation, then suddenly a dark, gloomy mist appears to be coming from him and I then realized that he has the only green energy in this whole kingdom....
Please delete this
Username: cdsky3
Entry:
Beware the Wild Hunt!
Listen Children, and hearken well, the lesson that I have to tell. If you choose to not hear my tale, then child, it is your life you sell. When the last night of the Harvest Moon, hangs low in star strewn sky, when the fog creeps upon the fields and hides neighboring vales, take heed, Dear Child, of the silence; take heed, Dear Child, of the chill; smell the stillness of the land; smell the excitement in the wind.
Tamers, are the bravest of souls, for they crawl exhausted into bed but crawl right out again, when livestock scream and bellow in fear. On the night of the last Harvest Moon don’t open the window, Dear Child, don’t answer your livestock’s shouts, don’t open the door to meet their terror! Instead know that what they cry, is not fear, but jubilation; elation, for this night, the Wild Hunt rides, and they wish to join the sport!
Oh the Wild Hunt! The Wild Hunt rides, the last night of the Harvest Moon! Beware the Wild Hunt, beware! Beware that they don’t hunt you!
If ye should venture outside your door, the Wild Hunt shall capture thee and from the Wild Hunt two choices there shall be. To join them. To be run down. If ye should join them, oh Child, into a hound or courser, you shall be turned. With eyes of red, sharp white teeth, and fur blacker than night sky! Thou shall run child, run from now until the end of time, till eternity's end; if ye should choose to join, the terrifying, captivating, Wild Hunt
If you should choose to be prey, instead of choosing collar, bridle and whip, you must hide from the Wild Hunt, for one whole night, from moon rise to moon fall. For that night you must run, Dear Child! Run as you never have moved before! Leap the logs, like flying hart! Claw through thorn brush, like rabid bear! Find the smelliest thickets of Zephyr Roots, but don’t bother trying to use them to flee to the sky! For the Hunt rides upon winged horses, with fiery breath, and golden hooves, that strike burning sparks upon rich Verra earth.
Run to the abandoned mines, race for the Underrealm, find the caves that have three entrances! If not there, then seek the zymcu’s huts in lakes, hide under the Tidesnapper’s belly! Dry quickly though, Dear child, if ye should leave the waters, as wet prey is easier to track -or so the Scholar’s Academy tells us! If somehow you should live to see the dawn, Dear child, Lucky Child, Exhausted Child, know that the Hunt will recognize you, as prey to be sought again next Harvest Moon!
There is a way to hide from The Hunt, before you are chosen, a way to flatter them. To please. Offer to them a hallowed head, prove you are a worthy hunter. Place it upon your doorstep, your wagon seat, and hope that they will take it as an offering, instead of you.
And if no hollow head to offer have ye, well my Child, hide under the bed and pray,that the Wild Hunt will ride over head, and not look back for thee.
(side notes: first off, if this is a double posting sorry, for some reason my first posting vanished?!! and then reappeared after I posted this one, so I erased the first. Secondly, I am not sure if any of the nature posted exists in AoC! Please forgive author license! I kept seeing giant beaver/muskrat hybrids (for the zymcu), and I have no idea if anything like the Zephyr Roots exist! Hopefully you enjoyed the bard's tale, and thank you for reading it!)
Entry:
It is a stormy night, rain showers you from above. Visibility is horrendous, yet you persevere through the downpour. Your face stinging from the rain, you pull you cloak tighter. As you travel higher into the mountains, the rain turns to snow. Blinded, lost, and freezing, you begin to panic. This may just be your end. But you won't surrender, not to some measly weather. You trudge along through the wind and sleet, when you come to a sheer cliff, rising towards the heavens, though you know not how far. You make your way alongside it, and discover a small crevice.
Squeezing through, you find that it leads to a small cave. Though caves on Verra are rarely safe, you have no choice but to escape the cold. You take time to start a fire, and slowly begin to thaw yourself. You slowly drift to sleep, the cracking of the fire barely audible through the howling of the snow.
As you awaken, a chill stabs deep within you. Your fire is dead. Darkness surrounds you, and you used the last means available to start that fire. Unsure as to the whereabouts of the crevice that lead you into the cave, you fumble around, clutching the walls. You know it was near, but where? How far have you been feeling your way around? You freeze as a noise begins to fill the darkness. Was that a hiss? A howl? You wait, but it never returns. Now fearful of the darkness, you shuffle slowly and silently forward.
It seems as if you have been walking for miles, though without your vision, it could easily have just been in circles. You pray to all the Gods you can, but none seem to hear you in this nightmare of black. You keep walking, as it is all you can do.
Suddenly, you notice the darkness isn't quite so dark. With each step, you can see more and more. You can see the walls of the cave, opening into a dark room, though compared to the hell you have been walking through, it shines as brightly as the sun. Then you see it. A large chest sits in the middle of the cavern, and it seems to be the source of the faint light. You make your way over, and kneel down. Light seeps through the cracks of the wooden box before you.
You take a deep breath and open it.
Blinding light fills the room, each second it seems to become brighter. You can't adjust your eyes, but even though the light has blinded you, the image of the source has been burned into them. But it couldn't be. It just doesn't make sense. Permanently etched into your mind, nay, your soul... it's... it's... a pair of sandals?
Entry:
It was a dark and unsettling Halloween night...
Entry:
“You're asleep again” the dreamy voice echoed inside his head. “If this is a dream then I would gladly stay here forever,” Edward responded, opening his eyes to a familiar face. The color of the big brown eyes staring back at him reminded him of falling acorns in autumn. As the gentle summer breeze blew thru Celesta’s brown flowing hair her short nose began to wrinkle as a thin frown crept over her face. “You know they hate when you're late,” she said in a soft voice. With the reality of the day’s cruel duties at hand Edward reluctantly began to raise his head from the checkered picnic blanket where they lay. Fastening on his armor, He looked upon the breathtaking expanse below him. Numerous patches of wildflowers adorned the valley's meadows and formed a beautiful collage across the landscape, looking not unlike a patchwork quilt. He listened to the bees diligently buzzing from flower to flower and the birds singing from the branches of the nearby oak. “It's such a beautiful day” Celesta said out loud. Smiling, Edward brushed her long chocolate colored hair from her face and stole one last kiss from his lovely bride. “Go on,” Celesta stated in a firm tone while rising to her feet. “You’ve been distracting me all morning and you do have somewhere to be, ”she said pointing an accusatory finger at him. “This doesn't feel right,” he said to himself as his feet moved seemingly on their own down the path. Why couldn't he force himself to stay?
Without warning time seemed to freeze and the clear heavens were suddenly overcome with darkness and smoke, the light of the sun no longer visible in the sky. The vibrancy of the summer life was replaced with the desolation of a barren and fire scorched hillside, beauty and color completely missing from the devilish scene. He heard the terrifying screams of his wife but could only watch in horror as dark purple flames consumed his surroundings. He heard Celesta crying for him as her voice trailed away in the distance. Confusion and panic overtaking his mind, he fell to his knees in dread as the dark vortex continued to grow around him. As the dancing shadows began to swirl, a clear stench of death began to choke his senses. He watched in shock as years quickly passed before him. Edward noticed his hands becoming rough as his body grew old, tired and covered in scars.
Suddenly He felt himself falling as if a wide chasm had opened up in the ground. He plummeted faster and faster, the strong pull of gravity leading him towards a most certain demise. He could hear his wife Celesta calling to him. “Save us from this fate,” she cried. He tried calling back to her but no matter how loud he yelled she couldn't hear him thru the intense wind swirling around him. Hot air began to sting his face as he fell deeper and deeper towards the oblivion below. As the moments passed his body became consumed with tremendous pain as the heat intensified and began burning thru his skin. As he continued to fall he again heard Celesta’s voice, “Where were you? Why couldn't you save me?” she pleaded. As her tone became more and more desperate her voice began to multiply inside his head until he could no longer keep track of what she was saying. Writhing in agony as he continued deaths descent, Celesta’s voice joined a chorus of millions of other screaming voices and hellish laughter. The voices giggled and howled at him without end. Unable to bear the horror of the voices any longer he shouted for them to stop with all his remaining strength! To his great surprise they ceased at once.
As his skin began to crack and peel from the ever increasing heat Edward instantly found himself surrounded by a dark and ominous presence. His soul screamed out in terror as the great evil locked its gaze onto him. Edward cried out from the torrent of raging wind, “What do you want?” The presence drew closer, enveloping him in complete darkness and with a loud hiss it spoke just one word, “Verra...“ Suddenly there was an awe shattering clap of thunder that crushed his eardrums and nearly pounded his mind into unconsciousness. He immediately screamed and convulsed in pain as long sharp talons split open his chest, flaying what was left of his crackling, burning skin. As the talons squeezed his body he felt his ribs pop and break one after another until his breath was gone. The talons, finally releasing their grip, allowed his crushed and paralyzed body to continue plunging to the bottom of the chasm. A peaceful tingling sensation began to work its way up to the front of Edward’s mind as the last bits of skin melted off his face and arms. Unable to breath or even blink as the scorching heat eviscerated his eyelids he was forced to stare into the void as his now still frame slammed into the cavern floor.
Suddenly the wise king found himself sitting up in his bed, gasping and choking for air. Turning to his startled queen, he said in a deep and gravely serious tone, “We have to leave everything, and quickly my dear." “Why?” Celesta asked with sudden concern. “I saw it. I saw what is coming and nothing in Verra can stop it.”
Username: Warfen
Entry:
I am a bit of an odd one, I never really enjoyed social events or going to places with lots of people. I'm the person that growing up preferred to be by myself or with a very few carefully selected friends but that's not what makes me odd. You see I have a bit of a secret power; I can see people's energy. How vibrant that energy is, is due to how much energy that person has but the color of the energy tells me how long that person has to live. Green means the person is still early on in their life, yellow-orange is about midway and red means their death is soon. The colors don't usually change suddenly but slowly. For example someone can be between a yellow and a green. There have been cases where I have seen someone’s energy color change drastically. I’ve also learned that I can be a direct influence in the color, if I know someone is about to die I can take action making their energy’s color go from red to green or if someone is a solid green I can even choose to get them killed making their color go from green to red.
***
I decided to journey into the world of Verra to seek out new opportunities, I had been an outcast because of how I behave around people. No one knew of my power but having this power made me very sadistic because I found great joy in knowing others would soon find great pain in death or losing a loved one. This life became a great burden, what once made me find great joy now brings me pain as I had no friends so I wanted to change all that. I searched all lover Verra using my secret powers to find a new kingdom and finally I did, The Kingdom of Konoha. The people’s energy was greener than all other places which is why I chose to stay here.
I had gotten a very unique job, one that fit me very well. I was part scout part sentinel for Konoha. The thing is that, I had a desire that buried deep within myself which was to actually help people. My sadism drove me somewhere I didn't want to be but I still had to give that side of me a bit of pleasure. So the scout side of my job was to delve a bit into darkness and derive pleasure from that while my sentinel part of my job was to watch over the people of Konoha thus helping the people of this kingdom.
One day while on sentinel duty I was watching the kingdom on our great walls when suddenly one by one everyone is turning red. There has to be something wrong, I thought, it sets me into a panic. I start running but the only way off this wall is quite a ways away. I pull out a mirror I keep in my pocket and it turns out even my energy is red. I then take a peek at the bottom of the wall, it's the king's personal mage. He gives me a very menacing smile, speaks an incantation, I then suddenly cannot move. It must be some sort of spell. As I am forced to look at him he starts to speak another incantation, then suddenly a dark, gloomy mist appears to be coming from him and I then realized that he has the only green energy in this whole kingdom....
There's so many things going through your head right now, the smell of her cooking, the sound of birds in the distance,.. tears are welling up in your eyes as all you long for is this moment and the warmth of your mother's embrace.
After what felt like ages your mother breaks the silence in a soft, kind whisper "Okay honey, let's fill our bellies first and then you can tell me all about your bad dream okay?". You looked up to find her beautiful smile, and couldn't help but feel how beautiful life was right now. You sat down and couldn't help but eagerly start eating.
You didn't notice it at the time, but outside the sound of birds had stopped and an eerie silence befell the little village.
With a lot of effort you forced your small legs to walk forward, and step by step you moved towards the door. Precious seconds ticked away while you made your way for the door, and after that everything seemed like a blurry haze.
You still remember reaching the door and peering into the village. Villagers lay down in the mud, their bodies twisted in ways nobody should ever twist. The blood dripping from underneath them was mixing in with the mud and created a deep crimson brown color you've never seen before.
It was a large being with a long grey beard, he looked like a being from the legends your mother told you about before bed, called "humans". In his hand this human held a small branch that he pointed and waved toward you. You still remember that wicked smile and the sound of his laugh before you followed his gaze to the sky above you.
A huge stone was tearing open the sky itself. It was a massive stone that was enveloped in flames, your eyes widened in shock and you realized that there was no escape. All you could do was stand there until the stone came crashing down.
With a gasp you opened your eyes. You felt like you were suspended in the air, and in front of you there was a tree that was weeping, no, burning with blood. You felt how the air around you began to move like life itself was trying to cling to your tiny orc body.
"Not again", you whispered.
Username: Hacksaw
Entry: A Taste of Despair
It was a cold, rainy night. Gerard and his small caravan of adventurers were taking refuge under an overhang, trying to fight against the cold, dark, and wet onslaught with a meager campfire. Gerard was making himself busy at the fire preparing a modest dinner of soup made from a boar that attacked them before the storm. The creatures of the renewed Verra were a sight to behold. Butchering the creature proved tricky, the crystals jutting from its back were magically charged, and Gerard didn’t want to cause a minor catastrophe.
It wasn’t long into the meal when Meena, the ranger of the group, spotted a lone Dwarf approaching them. He was running, but only to escape the rain. The group collectively let out a relieved sigh. The visitor tried to sweep the rain off before approaching the fire. Gerard motioned for them to lower their weapons. The dwarf only carried a satchel and a dagger better suited for carving wood than men.
“Sorry to drop in on ya’. Spotted ‘yer fire from hills. A right siege, ‘aint it?”, the dwarf said between ragged breaths and sheaths of water being brushed from the innumerable folds of his jacket.
“Don’t worry, stranger”, Gerard said. “You’re welcome to stay and partake of the fire. What’s your story, friend?”
Gerard’s group eased down as the Dwarf pulled a nearby stone to use as a makeshift stool. The five of them sat, waiting for the stout man to introduce himself. “Aye. Me name’s Andalor, returning from old Dünheim mines, I be. Researching a bit of family history there.”
“Dünheim? I’m only a little familiar with it. I’d heard that many stayed behind and were caught in the Calamity...”, Jörgen said, reaching for a tome in his bag. “The Dwarves of old were quite rich in artifacts, correct?”, the mage said.
“Aye, they were. But that ‘aint what I be lookin’ for in the mines”, Andalor said shifting his gaze away.
“We are in search of treasure ourselves. Most of our families have forgotten their lineage. You are quite fortunate to have a legacy to search for. What exactly did you find?”, Gerard said seeking a clearer answer.
“I suppose I could regale ya’”, Andalor said as a he rustled in his satchel for a bottle. “I’ll share me drink and me story for some of ‘yer soup, aye?”
Meena smiled eagerly, and grabbed the cap of her canteen. They all partook of the Dwarven fire before listening to Andalor’s tale. Jörgen in particular was not used to the strength of the drink, and was already swaying from the effects.
“Now then lads, and lass”, Andalor said, nodding toward the female ranger, “this story begins at the end. The Great Calamity, that is. Many of my kin chose to ignore the warnings, stubborn as us Dwarves be”, he let out a hoarse laugh. “I been looking around for what marks they left after the sky was ablaze.”
“Did you find anything?”, Jörgen asked with a slight slur.
“Aye”, Andalor continued. “Ya’ see… Me family wasn’t exactly what ya call ‘prestigious’”, the bearded storyteller said with a hint of disgust. “We were lowborn. Scorned by most, we were. It was a struggle for my lot survive. They resorted to... Less than heroic deeds to fill their bellies.”
He offered another capful of the spirits to the adventurers. He allowed each of them to finish their drink, the rogue who had remained quiet, was now swaying slightly.
“When the sky’s sparks turned to embers, and embers to inferno, the lowborn had little means to flee, they did. The lords and the merchants packed the streets with their wagons filled with riches”, Andalor said with his disdain clear to see. “Left behind, they were. Some managed to swindle their way out, but most of the dregs were left to rot.”
The once hearty Dwarf cast a somber glance at his hands before moving on. “The alleys those sods called home caved first. Then the shops. Then the mansions. The rubble protected from the scorching sky, but digging out were a hopeless task. Imagine, the mountain betraying us Dwarves?”
A bittersweet chuckle softly played against the heavy rain. Another round of the prized booze was passed. “Those that survived the mountain’s collapse were trapped. No way out, there was. The last thing to run out after the lights, the magic, the food… Was hope. And when that were gone, they turned on themselves. A strong kinship is easily defeated by a hungry belly, so I found. And when there be nothing left to eat...”
Gerard was taken aback as he absent-mindedly took another drink from the seemingly endless bottle. He was only slightly aware of Meena barely keeping herself upright.
“But that don’t be the end, friends. Dwarves be a stubborn lot. They found their way out, they did. An escape tunnel in the back of the mines. The mountain had one last gift to give. However... They found themselves faced with yet more ruin outside, they were.”
“That’s tragic”, Gerard sputtered. “Surviving by such means, only to -hic-, only to meet your end to the Calamity’s aftermath”. Gerard tried to sound sympathetic, however the spirits were strong. He couldn’t see straight anymore. He could have sworn another Dwarf was standing beside Andalor.
“Once more, that ‘aint the end of our tale. We survived”, The dwarf said with a wry smile. He rose from his rock, separating from the second dwarf Gerard thought was a drunken illusion. “Ya, see lad...”, he said as he paced towards the sleeping rogue, brandishing the dull knife. “Dwarves are a stubborn lot. We've had more than a taste of despair and hardship, we have.”
Gerard looked around feverishly as more Dwarves appeared from the rain, encircling his now sleeping comrades. He tried to draw his weapon, but the Dwarven liquor had already taken its toll. Andalor grinned darkly, “And once you’ve had a taste of despair, it’s a hard thing to quit, it is.”
Entry:
It was a dark night. A very-very dark night. Olaf opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. He knew that this night was special - he did not like to be afraid, so at the evening, he went to sleep and decided to sleep all night long… but now he woke up – something was wrong. Strange silence shrouded everything around – he heard nothing but a strange rustling outside the window.
And a strange feeling – like someone slightly tickles his skin.
He tried to get up, but legs moved with great difficulty.
Olaf went to the window, pulled the curtain back, looked outside… and started screaming - black ash was falling from the sky… No – not from the sky - the sky itself turned into ashes slowly falling to the ground. Than he noticed that not only sky, but roofs, town hall, and castle on the hill – everything around him, the whole Verra is turning to ashes. He looked at his arms - they also blackened and began to crumble to dust…
Strange voices sounded in his head – “What is happening, Steven?!" "Unfortunately we failed, guys… development is discontinued, sorry!”
Olaf could no longer scream – his throat was full of ashes. Tears mingled with it turning into mud and the mud turned to ashes. And darkness came.
Entry: The Coin.
I'm so proud of us all. Our once meager little camp has become a town. Our town. My town. We've achieved so much since returning through the gates, and it's my job to protect it.
On cold nights like this, my rounds seem to last a painful eternity; frigid wind cuts through any armor Old Kernan ever seems to make, the fool.
Our fool. My fool.
Tonight, however, there is no chill. Only warm thoughts of a bright future for us all.
Clink.
Hmm, I must have stepped on something. Looking down, a shine catches my eye, half-beneath my boot. My armor groans in argument as I kneel down to inspect the curiosity.
Why, it's a gold coin! Seems like my night just got warmer still, I chuckle, once this darling fills my belly with brew. With a satisfied swoop I grab the coin in my hand.
maimkillburnmaimkillburnmaimkillburn.
What is that? I turn to look around, getting back to my feet.
"Josah? Couldn't wait to start your rounds, eh?" I speak aloud, with no answer.
"Must be getting tired..." I sigh, resigning to completing my rounds. I look back to my prize. Interesting, it's not of normal coin make. Corrugated-like tentacles surround the rim, joining in the middle at what appears to be a face, with three eyes. Must have belonged to a Nikua. With further examination, I notice strange, archaic symbols inlaid on either side of the head. Stranger than anything I've seen. A Vek then, maybe?
maimkillburnmaimkillburnmaimkillburn.
"No matter!" I pocket the coin and begin to walk forward, only to see a purple haze surround me. Instantly, I'm knocked to the ground with force enough to dent my armor. My sight goes dark, traces of what little light I had stain the darkness in its wake.
"Gods! What is- GAAAAHHGH" Purple energy erupts from my body as I let out a scream. My eyes peel and bubble, growing larger and spreading apart. A cavity splits open above my nose as my sight hazily returns, three images of the horrific, crackling purple energy slowly merging into one. My blood boils. My brain beats like a hammer on anvil. A vicious ring reverberates throughout my skull with a constant voice piercing through, faster and faster:
MAIMKILLBURNMAIMKILLBURNMAIMKILLBURN.
Amongst my screams, bones begin to shatter and snap. My hands twist an ungodsly many times, fingers curling into each other to meet at the tips. My skin from the waist down melts away, sloughing off into blistering piles of flesh on the dirt road I walked. In it's stead, a hard chitinous carapace forms, sprouting four crab-like appendages, each coming to a deadly sharp point that my own legs have grotesquely deformed to match.
Help! Gods, help me! I try to scream, only to let out a deep, gurgled roar:
"MAIM. KILL. BURN. MAIM."
The ground beneath me cracks and opens, birthing ghoulish creatures I've never seen before. Hundreds of them. Defying what little will I have left, my demonic form lurches forward with the ghouls in tow, towards the town. Our town. My town.
I can barely hear the desperate alarm bells beneath the ringing and voices in my head. The tendrils that were once my arms crash down upon the two guards at the entrance with a crunch and a squish. Ghouls rush through into the town, some stopping to fight over the guards' remains. I see a group of adventurers steadily approaching in formation, slashing ghouls left and right. A ball of fire launches from behind their shield wall and sizzles up to my shoulder, the pain masked by my already boiling blood. Needlepoint instances of pain crawl up along my side. I turn to find a young woman scaling my form with a dagger in each hand. My grotesque arms reach for her, coil around the frail body, and lift into the air. I meet her gaze, focused on me with clenched teeth bared, as flashes of memory stream into focus. Her warm skin against mine out in the fields. Dancing at the summer festival. Cold nights like this spent warm in bed.
Angela! Run from me, my love! I desperately screech.
"MAIM. KILL. BURN. MAIM. KILL. BURN."
The next moment passes instantly as I whip and she is thrown from my grasp into the nearby inn. Terrified screams and commanding shouts never undulate, obscuring the passage of time. Bodies ghouls and townsfolk litter the town. The adventurers outnumber me now, and I feel my actions slowing and weakening. My legs crack and the burning building around me suddenly grow taller. Everything rotates as my head crashes to the ground. One bloodied man approaches until what appears to be two interlocking flames emblazoned on his shield fills my vision.
"Do it, Steven." I hear.
With a grimace, the man raises his shield and slams down. Instantly my blood cools. My pounding head and ringing ears calm. My sight sinks into a peaceful, welcoming darkness.
Cheering erupts and envelops the night, "Huzzah to Intrepid!"
I'm so proud of us all.
Entry:
Report of Quintus Aelius Livius, 4th kaelarian expedition to the old world:
My orders were to locate two members of the 3rd expedition, which went missing on a scouting mission roughly a dozen miles northwest to our first foothold in Verra—the world our ancestors have abandoned so many generations ago.
Tracks of our men were not as difficult to find and track as I expected first. I followed their trail through untamed forests half a day. At this season days seem to be short on Verra. At dusk I met what I believed to be an old man back then—maybe a scholar—at the outskirts of what must have been one of our proud towns ages ago.
With a deep, dusty voice he begged me desperately to look out for his childs, who got themselves lost in the ruins. His old cloudy eyes were filled with tears and the skin of his face was a thin and white as parchment. Unfortunately the old man had not encountered our scouts. Since the tracks were leading in the same direction anyway I agreed to help him, yet I was wondering why a family would move so far away from the safety of the foothold.
Only a faint gloom at the southern horizon was left of the daylight as I entered the ruins. A chilly breeze was constantly howling through the former streets flanked by collapsed houses—some of them barely distinguishable from a pile of rubble, others flanked by majestic but mostly broken statues casting haunting shadows in the dim light.
I decided not to lit my torch because it would have made it much harder for me to spot possible threats. In hindsight this decision saved my life. What felt like hours I was wandering the vast ruins, my path only illuminated by the feeble light of the moon and ocassionally obscured by clouds clinging to the sky like smoke.
In front of what must have been a manor once I found what was left of our men. The reek of something rotting and old blood filled the air. I have not encountered something like this before: guts spilled, bodies torn apart and twisted like broken dolls; the whole place was a bloody mess. It was impossible to tell what or who did this—or even what parts of their corpses might be missing. I could only tell by the making of their clothes this were once Kaelar. No one at the foothold had told me something about a creature capable of this.
There were no signs of the children so far. Regarding my recent discovery I gave them little chances of still being alive. Fighting the urge to light my torch and turn around I kept searching them—weapon drawn, adrenaline rushing though my veins, my heart pounding loud and fast in my chest and even more aware of my surroundings then before.
I heard a scratching sound like steel on stone and saw a profile moving towards me a heartbeat before they attacked just the moment a cloud nearly swallowed the complete moonlight. I managed to dodge both attacks, but I was not in the position for an immediate counterattack, so bringing my back to a crumbled wall and facing my opponents seemed a better way to me. They were two—each of them a mangled abominations made of flesh and bones of all possible wildlife and to my horror even out of men—our men. Despite their hulking appearance they moved swift and nimble, agilely delivering blow after blow with their razor-sharp claws to tear me apart.
Breaking one of the horror's claws by parrying his attack only enraged the beast to strike me more viciously.
After exhaustive minutes of fighting I was able to sever off some of their limbs, but they delivered a strike to my shoulder that went straight through my leather armor and one, that broke several rips. In contrast to me they did not seem to feel any pain or lose any blood. It took my last strength to take them both down by tearing them apart bit by bit, chopping their bodies into little pieces with my dull-grown sword.
Only then the life—or how you want to call it—seemed to fade of the abominations.
On my way back I have neither found any clues of the missing children nor of the old man but—without having any clues—I fear our men and me both met his children back in the ruins. But only I am still alive to speak of them.
Entry: The dragon's descendance
For ages the Dünir have been hiding inside a mountain, out of sight of the hideous and dangerous creatures that dwelled the lands ever since the fall of Vera. Food had always been scarce for the dwarves never dared to farm the surrounding lands in fear of being discovered. The few plants that could grow in the heart of the mountain was all they ever had. Though this did never prevent them from expanding and fortifying their new-found home. Forges were built over the years that passed and their craftmanship never ceased to exist. Though the Dünir were always eager to put their mark on the world of Vera once again. Every few decennia since the founding of their new home, scouts have been sent out to look for any other kind of civilization that had been rebuilt. Out of the hundreds of scouts that were sent out throughout the ages, only a handful ever returned. Though those that did find their way back had gone completely mad because of the corruption that lay upon the lands. That is at least until a few months ago, when finally a scout returned not driven by madness. He had told the dwarven folk that the corruption was finally fading away and spoke of a town to the east which had been erected by humans. Only one thing stood in the way of the Dünir’s greatness now: the ever-slumbering dragon in the forests to the north, near to their mountain, which would surely be awoken by dwarves bustling around trying to cultivate the land. And so it was that Thoïn, son of Dain, the mightiest and bravest among the Dunïr was sent out on a quest to slay the dragon.
Thoïn was running as fast as his legs could carry him for over more than two hours now. The memory of the beast alone was enough to make him shiver. It resembled a dragon as was told in the old tales, but its body was rotting with maggots and worms all over the place. It was surrounded by an aura of darkness and peril and he swore that he heard voices screaming inside his head when he came close enough. Even though it seemed like the dragon was decaying, it was all but dead. He remembered seeing the eyelids of the dragon suddenly opening and the sickening breath coming out of its open mouth. In a desperate attempt he had thrust his spear through the dragon’s throat. Its shriek was as if a thousand high pitched voices suddenly started screaming in agony and the beast expanded his wings and rose high into the sky. Thoïn might have been brave, but he was not a fool. He knew that he was no match and started running. Surprisingly the dragon did not seem to follow him and it took only a few minutes before the dreaded sound of flapping wings faded away into the distance. Though Thoïn did not dare to stop and wanted to get as far away as possible from that cursed place. Now after two hours he finally dared to stop to take a breath and collapsed to the ground from exhaustion. He spread his ears and was satisfied to only hear the rustling of leaves in the wind. It didn’t take very long though until he was alarmed by the crunching of leaves and the snapping of twigs beneath a heavy weight. Adrenaline pumped through his veins and he was back on his feet in no time with his dagger drawn and ready to fight. A black-haired creature came out of the bushes and bared his teeth at him. He thought it resembled what was called a wolf in one of the books he read. Though it seemed far too big and its teeth were almost as long as his dagger. There was not much time to observe the wolf-like creature further because in the next moment it sprinted towards him and leapt straight over his head and scurried away deeper into the forest. Thoïn was left standing there in bewilderment staring after the creature. It was too late when he heard the all too familiar sound of flapping wings again. He looked up into the sky and one way or another his gaze was pulled straight towards one of the dragon’s eyes. The pitch darkness of his eyes made place for caverns filled with a blazing fire. Suddenly a stream of infernal fire came from the beast’s mouth directed towards the place Thoïn was standing as nailed to the ground. After the stream of fire halted, the only thing that was left in and around the spot Thoïn was standing was ash. Ashes quickly spread out by the wind coming from the descendance of the dragon as the sky was filled with its defying shriek.
In the town nearby the dwarven stronghold an unsuspecting adventurer saw a new quest note on the board placed in the middle of the main square. “The dragon’s descendance” it was called. The adventurer was all excitement and took the note with him eager to show it to his guildmates. Little did he know of the peril and danger that lay ahead…
Entry: Siren's Call
Stumbling through the vortex of the eternal storm,
Armor rusting, drenched clothes clinging like castaways to a sinking galleon;
The Wood’s branches grasping like blind hands restraining my progress;
As I follow the Siren’s Call
Ever moving forward,
Always pressing onward;
Onward to the Voice that beckons me.
Lightening flashes and I am lost within the illusion of sunshine
And her warm smile..
To green glades and cool breezes’
Her eyes bright with hope and love,
She mocks me giggling and always a step out of reach, coy.
From her laughter I am awakened;
By the chorus of thunder that abruptly shatters my dream;
Rain chaotically rippling the languid pools of mud and filth,
My feet sinking in the mire of the black earth
How long have I stood here? A minute? A week?
Straining against the snickering wind to hear,
I have lost her voice, her call;
Panic strangles my heart with bonds of despair;
And my tears, my tears mix with dark puddles
Of other broken promises and longing,
Hands clenched in confused dismay, madness whispering across my lips.
For I am lost, lost to her, lost unto myself.
Then I hear it, that voice ethereal
And I begin to move through that darkness again, through clawing brambles
Away from the grave of earth, deeper into the woods
As I follow the Siren’s call
Ever moving forward,
Always pressing onward;
Onward to the Voice that beckons me.
In his torn and dirty clothing, a man from the gallows walks the dark alleys covered in dirt and trash. His stomach growling and his mind desperately holding on haunted from stories. In the alley he picks up a dirty letter with specks of blood closed with an unknown seal. A seal which promises riches to his eyes as he greedily opens it, seems like reading lessons in the abbey finally paid off.
“Inquisitio sacra de rebus contra naturam Gradus: A
After following the incidents of sudden outbursts of violence only ended by the afflicted deaths I have found this information out. It shall be delivered only to the generals of the order and higher. It should be only read by one person and treated carefully.
Corruption it is the horrible thing that drove us from Verra. The creator of behemoths equipped with maiming trunks of arms easily tearing a man in half teeth strong enough to maim any knight no matter how thick the Armor.
Now these things might not be here on the top with us, but some say the beauty of this place has lulled us into a false sense of security. Too late they say, too late did we escape.
These men with their broken lips twisting in unimaginable horror. Their eyes blinded by their own hands as they tried to carve the knowledge out their skulls, though they all know it will stick in there forever haunting them with every human they see.
They whisper words seemingly alluring and promising of knowledge but in truth dripping with poison. Words telling us who have made the mistake to listen, like I, that there is something hidden much deeper, deeper than any dwarf could ever dig.
It doesn’t matter how virtues you are or which god you follow the corruption doesn’t care and no gods can save you from it not once it is inside. Deep in your being where your mind can’t look waiting patiently.
Maybe therefore these men are trying to claw it out, or better scoop it out like butter cream from a pot. They don’t want to know that no matter what they will do it could grab them at any time, and the thought of it is gnawing on their frail minds till they cannot take it anymore.
It certainly seems so to me as I can feel my nails scratching against my skin, even when I try to stop it.
These seem to be the first signs of this occurrence now called “the gnawing” by us agents whom have been given the order to investigate this occurrence. The contagiousness of this phenomenon however seems to not be bound to being thought by someone else who has contracted it. Rare but still occurring, the knowledge can simply seep into your being as if the waiting demon inside had chosen to reveal its ugly face to you laughing as you digest what you have learned.
The start of the investigation seems to be the end of the affliction, the person giving into the corruption inside.
People maiming others with no regard to who it is, I had seen it myself a mother striking down her own son with a meat cleaver severing the head from the shoulders after hacking on it several times, the blood still gushing out of the kids mouth foamy and bubbling over red lips.
Though the most horrifying is not their acts of bloodshed. It is their smiles and laughter their faces. Twisted in unnatural ways grinning wildly at their gruesome tasks only stopped by death. These things will haunt me for the rest of my short life as I suspect my own life to take no different turn now that I have contracted it.
The current solution to burn the afflicted areas seems ineffective and no other cure has been found in my search.
To make out if a crime stands in relation with the phenomenon it has been proven as accurate to check for signs of self-harm. The entire body can be used to ease the pain of gnawing and I have even witnessed people pulling off their own bit by bit.
It is clear, that this letter needs to be classified, I do not even want to imagine the horror of this knowledge spreading by peasant mouth, the ensuing damages would be enough to shake our empire. Sadly, I have to no solution to this problem and I am highly worried about what opening the gates to the origin of the corruption will do this phenomenon.
I have wasted enough time after delivering this letter I will have to subdue myself the pain in my head is growing ever stronger and the scraping of my nails on my bone can only keep it away for so long.
Wallerick Porst von Rothoehen Investigator“
He finishes reading. A sharp pain in his right shoulder. He freezes. Fingers are digging into his flesh. He turns his head in an attempt to glimpse his assailant. A jaw. Blood-soaked teeth. A snap. Everything turns to black.
As his consciousness fades the last thing coming to his ears is laughter but not from outside, from inside.
Travelling through the Gateway to become a pioneer had been a hard decision, but it brought hope, that alone made it worthwhile. It was the promise of a bright future for you, for your loved ones and for those that would soon arrive.
After all the doubt, the fear and the harsh work it all had fallen into place just beautifully. The Settlement was thriving and the place was closest to heaven than any other you had ever seen. All that green, the seer vastness of the plains and forests, the chirp of the birds and the beauty of the flowers, unreal. Even the snow peaked mountains far north and the rivers that flowed from them looked like something out of a dream or a painting.
It was like the very earth radiated life and the first crops were starting to sprout way before you finished building your homes. For the first time in years fortune smiled upon you.
The children played gleefully around, the townsfolk worked with the passion reserved to those building a place to call home.
You found the nearby forest notably charming. The colors, the sounds and the smells were so vivid that it somehow managed to look dreamy and more real than any other place at the same time. Having to cut it down made you feel ashamed and heartbroken, but it was necessary. Each strike of the axe almost made you cry, you even heard the sobs of others while working.
That night something woke you up, a dreadful felling of something amiss.The sound of weeping on the wind through an open window.
The smell of flowers and blood.
An agonizing void, still warm, in the other half of your bed.
An empty cradle.
Username: Hacksaw
Entry:
It was a cold, rainy night. Gerard and his small caravan of adventurers were taking refuge under an overhang, trying to fight against the cold, dark, and wet onslaught with a meager campfire. Gerard was making himself busy at the fire preparing a modest dinner of soup made from a strange boar that attacked them before the storm. The creatures of the renewed Verra were a sight to behold. Butchering the creature proved tricky, the crystals jutting from its back were magically charged, and Gerard didn’t want to cause a minor catastrophe.
It wasn’t long into the meal when Meena, the ranger of the group, spotted a lone Dwarf approaching them. He was running, but only to escape the rain. The group collectively let out a relieved sigh. The visitor tried to sweep the rain off before approaching the fire. Gerard motioned for them to lower their weapons. The dwarf only carried a satchel and a dagger better suited for carving wood than men.
“Sorry to drop in on ya’. Spotted ‘yer fire from hills. A right siege, ‘aint it?”, the dwarf said between ragged breaths and sheaths of water being brushed from the innumerable folds of his jacket.
“Don’t worry, stranger”, Gerard said. “You’re welcome to stay and partake of the fire. What’s your story, friend?”
Gerard’s group eased down as the Dwarf pulled a nearby stone to use as a makeshift stool. The five of them sat, waiting for the stout man to introduce himself. “Aye. Me name’s Andalor, and I be returning from old Dünheim mines. Researching a bit of family history there.”
“Dünheim? I’m only a little familiar with it. I’d heard that many stayed behind and were caught in the Calamity...”, the mage Jörgen said, reaching for a tome in his bag. “The Dwarves of old were quite rich in artifacts, correct?”
“Aye, they were. But that ‘aint what I be lookin’ for in the mines”, Andalor said shifting his gaze away.
“We are in search of treasure ourselves. Most of us come from families that have forgotten lineage. You are quite fortunate to have a legacy to search for. What exactly did you find?”, Gerard said seeking a clearer answer.
“I suppose I could regale ya’”, Andalor said as a he rustled in his satchel, producing a bottle. “I’ll share me drink and me story for some of ‘yer soup, aye?”
Meena chuckled, and grabbed the cap off of her canteen. They all partook of the Dwarven fire before listening to Andalor’s tale. Jörgen in particular was not used to the strength of the drink, and was already swaying from its effects.
“Now then lads, and lass”, Andalor said, nodding toward the female ranger, “this story begins at the end. The Great Calamity, that is. Many of my kin chose to ignore the warnings, stubborn as us Dwarves be”, he let out a hoarse laugh. “I been looking around for what marks they left after the sky was ablaze.”
“Did you find anything?”, Jörgen asked with a slight slur.
“Aye”, Andalor continued. “Ya’ see… Me family wasn’t exactly what ya call ‘prestigious’”, the bearded storyteller said with a hint of disgust. “We were lowborn. Scorned by most, we were. It was a struggle for my lot survive. They resorted to less than heroic deeds to fill their bellies.”
He offered another capful of the spirits to the adventurers. He allowed each of them to finish their drink before resuming, the rogue who had remained quiet, was now swaying slightly.
“When the sky’s sparks turned to embers, and embers to inferno, the lowborn had little means to flee, they did. The lords and the merchants packed the streets with their wagons filled with riches”, Andalor’s said with disdain clear for all to see. “Left behind, they were. Some managed to swindle their way out. But most of the dregs were left to rot.”
The once hearty Dwarf cast a somber glance at his hands before moving on. “The alleys those sods called home caved first. Then the shops. Then the mansions. The rubble protected them from the scorching sky, but digging out were a hopeless task. Imagine, the mountain betraying us Dwarves?”
A bittersweet chuckle softly played against the heavy rain. Another round of the prized booze was passed. “Those that survived the mountain’s collapse were trapped. No way out, there was. The last thing to run out after the lights, the magic, the food… Was hope. And when that were gone, they turned on themselves. A strong kinship is easily defeated by a hungry belly, so I found. And when there be nothing left to eat...”
Gerard was taken aback as he absent-mindedly took another drink from the seemingly endless bottle. He was only slightly aware of Meena barely keeping herself upright.
“But that don’t be the end, friends. Dwarves be a stubborn lot. They found their way out. An escape tunnel in the back of the mines. The mountain had one last gift to give. However, they found themselves faced with yet more ruin, they did.”
“That’s tragic”, Gerard sputtered. “Surviving by such means, only to -hic-, only to meet your end to the Calamity’s aftermath”. Gerard tried to sound sympathetic, however the spirits were strong. He couldn’t see straight anymore. He could have sworn another Dwarf was standing beside Andalor.
“Once more, that ‘aint the end of our tale. We survived”, The dwarf said with a wry smile. He rose from his rock, separating from the second dwarf Gerard thought was a drunken illusion. “Ya, see lad”, he said as he paced towards the sleeping rogue brandishing the dull knife. “Dwarves are a stubborn lot. We have had more than a taste of despair and hardship, we have.”
Gerard looked around feverishly as more Dwarves appeared from the rain, encircling his now sleeping comrades. He tried to draw his weapon, but the Dwarven liquor had already taken its toll. Andalor grinned darkly, “And once you’ve had a taste of despair, it’s a hard thing to quit, it is.”
Travelling through the Gateway to become a pioneer had been a hard decision, but it brought hope, that alone made it worthwhile. It was the promise of a bright future for you, for your loved ones and for those that would soon arrive.
After all the doubt, the fear and the harsh work it all had fallen into place just beautifully. The Settlement was thriving and the place was closest to heaven than any other you had ever seen. All that green, the seer vastness of the plains and the forests, the chirp of the birds and the beauty of the flowers, unreal. Even the snow peaked mountains far north and the rivers that flowed from them looked like something out of a dream or a painting.
It was like the very earth radiated life and the first crops were starting to sprout way before you finished building your homes. For the first time in years fortune smiled upon you.
The children played gleefully around, the townsfolk worked with the passion reserved to those building a place to call home.
You found the nearby forest notably charming. The colors, the sounds and the smells were so vivid that it somehow managed to look dreamy and more real than any other place at the same time. Having to cut it down made you feel ashamed and heartbroken, but it was necessary. Each strike of the axe almost made you cry, you even heard the sobs of others while working.
That night something woke you up, a dreadful felling of something amiss.The sound of weeping on the wind through an open window.
The smell of flowers and blood.
An agonizing void, still warm, in the other half of your bed.
An empty cradle.
Username: Hacksaw
Entry:
It was a cold, rainy night. Gerard and his small caravan of adventurers were taking refuge under an overhang, trying to fight against the cold, dark, and wet onslaught with a meager campfire. Gerard was making himself busy at the fire preparing a modest dinner of soup made from a strange boar that attacked them before the storm. The creatures of the renewed Verra were a sight to behold. Butchering the creature proved tricky, the crystals jutting from its back were magically charged, and Gerard didn’t want to cause a minor catastrophe.
It wasn’t long into the meal when Meena, the ranger of the group, spotted a lone Dwarf approaching them. He was running, but only to escape the rain. The group collectively let out a relieved sigh. The visitor tried to sweep the rain off before approaching the fire. Gerard motioned for them to lower their weapons. The dwarf only carried a satchel and a dagger better suited for carving wood than men.
“Sorry to drop in on ya’. Spotted ‘yer fire from hills. A right siege, ‘aint it?”, the dwarf said between ragged breaths and sheaths of water being brushed from the innumerable folds of his jacket.
“Don’t worry, stranger”, Gerard said. “You’re welcome to stay and partake of the fire. What’s your story, friend?”
Gerard’s group eased down as the Dwarf pulled a nearby stone to use as a makeshift stool. The five of them sat, waiting for the stout man to introduce himself. “Aye. Me name’s Andalor, and I be returning from old Dünheim mines. Researching a bit of family history there.”
“Dünheim? I’m only a little familiar with it. I’d heard that many stayed behind and were caught in the Calamity...”, the mage Jörgen said, reaching for a tome in his bag. “The Dwarves of old were quite rich in artifacts, correct?”
“Aye, they were. But that ‘aint what I be lookin’ for in the mines”, Andalor said shifting his gaze away.
“We are in search of treasure ourselves. Most of us come from families that have forgotten lineage. You are quite fortunate to have a legacy to search for. What exactly did you find?”, Gerard said seeking a clearer answer.
“I suppose I could regale ya’”, Andalor said as a he rustled in his satchel, producing a bottle. “I’ll share me drink and me story for some of ‘yer soup, aye?”
Meena chuckled, and grabbed the cap off of her canteen. They all partook of the Dwarven fire before listening to Andalor’s tale. Jörgen in particular was not used to the strength of the drink, and was already swaying from its effects.
“Now then lads, and lass”, Andalor said, nodding toward the female ranger, “this story begins at the end. The Great Calamity, that is. Many of my kin chose to ignore the warnings, stubborn as us Dwarves be”, he let out a hoarse laugh. “I been looking around for what marks they left after the sky was ablaze.”
“Did you find anything?”, Jörgen asked with a slight slur.
“Aye”, Andalor continued. “Ya’ see… Me family wasn’t exactly what ya call ‘prestigious’”, the bearded storyteller said with a hint of disgust. “We were lowborn. Scorned by most, we were. It was a struggle for my lot survive. They resorted to less than heroic deeds to fill their bellies.”
He offered another capful of the spirits to the adventurers. He allowed each of them to finish their drink before resuming, the rogue who had remained quiet, was now swaying slightly.
“When the sky’s sparks turned to embers, and embers to inferno, the lowborn had little means to flee, they did. The lords and the merchants packed the streets with their wagons filled with riches”, Andalor’s said with disdain clear for all to see. “Left behind, they were. Some managed to swindle their way out. But most of the dregs were left to rot.”
The once hearty Dwarf cast a somber glance at his hands before moving on. “The alleys those sods called home caved first. Then the shops. Then the mansions. The rubble protected them from the scorching sky, but digging out were a hopeless task. Imagine, the mountain betraying us Dwarves?”
A bittersweet chuckle softly played against the heavy rain. Another round of the prized booze was passed. “Those that survived the mountain’s collapse were trapped. No way out, there was. The last thing to run out after the lights, the magic, the food… Was hope. And when that were gone, they turned on themselves. A strong kinship is easily defeated by a hungry belly, so I found. And when there be nothing left to eat...”
Gerard was taken aback as he absent-mindedly took another drink from the seemingly endless bottle. He was only slightly aware of Meena barely keeping herself upright.
“But that don’t be the end, friends. Dwarves be a stubborn lot. They found their way out. An escape tunnel in the back of the mines. The mountain had one last gift to give. However, they found themselves faced with yet more ruin, they did.”
“That’s tragic”, Gerard sputtered. “Surviving by such means, only to -hic-, only to meet your end to the Calamity’s aftermath”. Gerard tried to sound sympathetic, however the spirits were strong. He couldn’t see straight anymore. He could have sworn another Dwarf was standing beside Andalor.
“Once more, that ‘aint the end of our tale. We survived”, The dwarf said with a wry smile. He rose from his rock, separating from the second dwarf Gerard thought was a drunken illusion. “Ya, see lad”, he said as he paced towards the sleeping rogue brandishing the dull knife. “Dwarves are a stubborn lot. We have had more than a taste of despair and hardship, we have.”
Gerard looked around feverishly as more Dwarves appeared from the rain, encircling his now sleeping comrades. He tried to draw his weapon, but the Dwarven liquor had already taken its toll. Andalor grinned darkly, “And once you’ve had a taste of despair, it’s a hard thing to quit, it is.”
Travelling through the Gateway to become a pioneer had been a hard decision, but it brought hope, that alone made it worthwhile. It was the promise of a bright future for you, for your loved ones and for those that would soon arrive.
After all the doubt, the fear and the harsh work it all had fallen into place just beautifully. The Settlement was thriving and the place was closest to heaven than any other you had ever seen. All that green, the seer vastness of the plains and the forests, the chirp of the birds and the beauty of the flowers, unreal. Even the snow peaked mountains far north and the rivers that flowed from them looked like something out of a dream or a painting.
It was like the very earth radiated life and the first crops were starting to sprout way before you finished building your homes. For the first time in years fortune smiled upon you.
The children played gleefully around, the townsfolk worked with the passion reserved to those building a place to call home.
You found the nearby forest notably charming. The colors, the sounds and the smells were so vivid that it somehow managed to look dreamy and more real than any other place at the same time. Having to cut it down made you feel ashamed and heartbroken, but it was necessary. Each strike of the axe almost made you cry, you even heard the sobs of others while working.
That night something woke you up, a dreadful felling of something amiss.The sound of weeping on the wind through an open window.
The smell of flowers and blood.
An agonizing void, still warm, in the other half of your bed.
An empty cradle.