Spooky Tellings

[awdz]

WANTED: Spooky Stories, Poems, Songs, etc.
Recitations by author preferred.
Contact Awdz Bodkins if interested

Spooky tellings will be run in the Roleplay chat on Sunday, October 24 starting at 4 pm PDT (5 pm MDT, 6 pm CDT, 7 pm EDT). I will have several tales to tell but would welcome any others that you care to share. All are invited to come and participate or just listen, as you prefer.

[awdz]

*bump*
wonder what made that sound? ;-)

[awdz]

the tellings were a ton of fun! i alternated my new stories with some wonderful stories by other folks - uther, tagath, draustin, ledha, and sonea! :-)

i'll post my stories here one/day until they're all up, and the others who contributed to the tellings can post theirs too if they want to.


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Taking leaves…

In the Spiritous Swamp, there stands a house… or rather, the remains of a house, once sturdily built and well-kept. The man who built it, Presk, was a bit of a jack-of-all-trades; he had to be, to survive in the swamp. One thing he was really good at, though, was making cloth.

Around the Tower of Spirits, ironsilk plants grow wildly; in his day, Presk used to plant the ironsilk as a crop. When the plants grew enough to produce their strong fibers, he would gather pods off the plants.

Once home, Presk would pull the fibers out of the pods and cast the leafy outer coverings aside. He would spend hours working the ironsilk fibers, spinning them into thread, weaving them into strong cloth. When he finished with the fibers, almost as an afterthought, he would sweep the pod leaves out into the swamp. Over time, he made a rather large-sized mulch pile out of them. Sometimes the leaves swirled when he was sweeping, dancing as if to capture his attention.

Eventually a time came when Presk grew rather ill. He inquired about a curative; a healer spoke of fungus that grew under thick leaf cover.

“The fringes on its underside have potent healing abilities,” the healer told him. “But beware of the dust spores on the top of it – they cause hallucinations and worse!”

Presk just happened to know about the largest leaf cover in the swamp: the one right beside his house. Carefully he lifted up the edge of the pile, and was pleased to find some of the fungus right there. The fungus grew thicker further in, so harvesting it did not take him long. As he dug, some of the leaves swirled up, helping him to uncover the fungus. He did not notice fine dust carried in the swirl, some of which landed on his exposed face.

As Presk made the curative, he heard a voice coming from outside. Looking out, he saw loose leaves swirl over the pile, as if it were calling to him. Shaking his head, he finished making his medicine. Cleaning up afterward, he decided to dump the unused portion of the fungus back on the mulch pile.

Nearing the leaves, Presk tripped, falling headlong into the leaf pile; a great swirl flew up. Rolling over to catch his breath, he almost noticed the fine dust in the swirling air – except the leaf pile began cuddling him and speaking of its love for him.

Presk tried to get up but was too weak from his illness and disoriented from the dust in the air. The leaves covered him more and more thickly; all the while Presk heard them telling of how they wanted attention like he lavished on the ironsilk fibers. The clothworker vanished within the great leaf pile, never to be seen again.

However, sometimes the leaves swirl when the wind does not blow, and the echo of his voice may be heard near the ruins of his house.

[awdz]

second story that i told...

Painfull Life

There was a young girl who lived in a house just south of Morning Light. She was a lovely little thing who caught the eye of everyone that saw her. Her father grew concerned and became overly protective to the point of abuse. When she came of age, he locked her in her room and refused to let her out, to keep her “safe from those lecherous fellows in the village”.

The girl pleaded with him, to no avail. She prayed to Istara, but the prayers went unanswered. Finally she just cried out to any power that would listen, asking to be freed; in return, she offered her services.

An evil wind bore her call to ears that should never have heard. That night, the Avatar of Pain rumbled up to their door and broke it in. The girl’s father was killed before her eyes as she stared in horror at its misshapen form.

The blood splattering across her face was not what she had meant when she cried out to be released from her captivity. However, when the monster turned to her, she stood to fulfill her end of the bargain and spoke to it fearlessly.

“You have freed me and so I will serve you, however you will.”

Eyes flashing with greed, the Avatar of Pain grabbed the girl by one arm and pulled her away with him. He did not drag her, for she would not let him – she went willingly.

She was free to roam the lands where the Avatar of Pain lived, protected from being killed but not from the other torments of the land. She ate of Blight and grew as twisted in spirit as she was beautiful in form.

The Avatar of Pain used her, setting her out as bait; she loved flirting with their prey. She became the Mistress of Pain, enticing unwary males to their doom. Some say it is her past amusements that now hang in the back of the fortress guarded by General Reklar…

[awdz]

my third story told...

Splash

A young hatchling was gathering gems in Garnet Bay and then taking them to a lair on the southern side of Genevia. He was feeling very proud to be getting them by himself; his amea had insisted on traveling with him every time before.

“There are dangers in the land, even around Genevia,� she told him. “There are golems near many resource outcroppings and untold things lurking where you least expect it. You should be fine along the road, but be careful!�

Pulling his load back, the little dragon got thirsty. He stopped for a drink where the river formed a large pool. “Aaahhh, just the thing after all that dusty digging!� he thought as he drank.

Sploop! A sudden splashing made him whip his head up in surprise, but he saw nothing disturbing the water. A little uneasy but very thirsty, he lowered his head to drink again.

Splish! Another watery sound. Looking around again, he saw nothing moving. His mother’s warning came back to him.

“What is making that noise? Is something invisible sneaking up on me?� the hatchling wondered. Nervously, he lowered his head to drink some more.

Splash! That was it, the dragon had had enough. Snatching his diskload of gems, he took off down the road running, anxious to get home before the splashing monster jumped him.

The little turtle in the pond swam around and clambered up on its log again, completely oblivious to the hatchling.

[LOVWYRM]

ohh- how much I love "Splash"
I had a big smile in my face reading it- I knew whats going on there

Great stories Awdz, thy for sharing

[awdz]

and my fourth (out of 5) new telling...


Hair-raising Channeling

Those who have been around for a while, know that there were destroyed crafting machines around Istaria that we had to rebuild. Most were destroyed by the Withered Aegis, but not all…

The little gnome was proud of her bright blue hair. She liked that it was the brightest hair around, and took pains to keep it that way. Others would ask what her secret was, but she refused to share it.

Each week, she would travel to Granite Hills and venture into the oak forest just west of it. There she would find wisps glowing under the forest canopy, siphon off their essence, and take it to an essence channeler that she had passed in getting to the wisps.

Hopping up onto the channeler, she would clamber to the edge of the streams of energy pulsing in it and let them run through her hair. Rubbing the essence she had gathered into her hair while the energy pulsed through it made her hair turn the extra-bright blue in which she took such pride.

It was a little scary, being that close to such active energy, but she always stayed at the edge of it. The center of the channeler had extremely bright energy running from a dark blue crystal above to an almost black orb below. The gnome wondered what that much energy might do to her hair.

One day, someone complimenting her hair commented, “It is so bright it nearly glows in the dark! Can you imagine if it really did? You’d be a beacon to everyone at night!”

The little gnome turned the idea over in her head. She loved the attention she got just with her hair being bright; she thought that glow-in-the-dark hair would not only be useful for seeing at night but bring her much more attention than she got now.

Deciding that she wanted to make her hair literally glow, she set about tinkering it. She gathered the most powerful essence she could find and carried it back with her to the essence channeler. Massaging the essence into her hair, she bypassed the outer energy streams and put her head into the most powerful central one.

The flow of intense energies was immediate. Unlike the outer streams, which flowed down, the central one sucked upward. Her hair pulled up toward the crystal, but the stream did not stop with just the essence in her hair.

Screaming, the entire gnome was pulled up, her very spirit being consumed. As her energies were sucked into the channeler, the outer streams brightened beyond any level seen before, flowing into the central dark orb.

Now a channeler is made to focus the soft energies of essence, not the soul of a living creature. When her energies were focused in its center, they overwhelmed the workings of the essence channeler.

It exploded, leaving nothing but the base of the ruined channeler and screams upon the wind.

[awdz]

I've not heard if any of the other tellers want their stories posted here; I'm not posting them unless I do. The night was finished up with Sonea & I retelling the BOO! contest stories for which we got honorable mention (you can hear those tales at the festival grounds in game - a ghostly lady tells my "Brolen's Smelter" and a ghostly dragon tells Sonea's tale about thornwood trees), and then Sonea told a tale which I believe Sephiranoth wrote. All in all, an excellent spooky tale-telling night!
Aaaaaand the last new tale I told...

Nymph o’Maniac

In Spiritous Swamp there is a pool where a nymph called Ripple lives. At one time, she was a happy creature of nature, reflecting the state of the land. She would sing to the birds in the trees from her pool and swim about merrily, her pool alive with the ripples she made.

Then the Withered Aegis overtook much of the land, bringing Blight to it. Ripple grew ill and dark of spirit, hardly swimming at all, and only singing on rare occasions when the sun hit her still pool.

Eventually bloodskulks moved to the edge of the swamp. Their main camp was some distance away from the pool, so for some time the nymph did not even know of them. Then the skulks got bolder and farther-reaching in their patrols.

A bloodskulk spearman named Duggrod patrolled near the pool. Ripple caught sight of him and was enamored of his fine fins. Revealing herself to him, she found that he returned the feelings. The two grew close and the nymph found reason to sing happily again. The pool was alive with ripples once more.

During one of the trysts between Ripple and Duggrod, a Gifted warrior stumbled across them and thought the bloodskulk was assaulting the nymph. Before the spearman could grab his weapon, the warrior thrust his sword through the bloodskulk’s shoulder. The finned lover fought back as well as he could but was unable to win any advantage after the surprise attack.

Ripple gasped in horror as her love fell bleeding into her pool, wanting to stop the blood but having to stop the attack first. As the warrior readied another sword thrust to finish off the bloodskulk, she leapt upon the Gifted and dragged him under the water in her pool. The wounded warrior cut the nymph too in the ensuing struggle, trying to break free, but her desperation overcame his efforts.

Alas, she was too slow. By the time the Gifted was drowned and she was free to tend her lover, Ripple found that the bloodskulk was beyond any healing. She spent days singing a lament for him in her bloodied, still pool. Although outwardly her wounds healed, her depression at his loss only deepened over time.

The bloodskulks who found their brethren dead in her arms respected the nymph’s wishes to leave him there. In truth, she saved them the effort of having to deal with his body. They made no attempt to comfort her, but letting her keep Duggrod was enough. Already Blighted as the land around her, the wound to her heart blackened her soul completely.

Vowing vengeance against bloodskulk killers, now Ripple lies in wait. Any who venture near to her pool are subject to her attack. Silent and deadly, she does not reveal herself but simply kills before the Gifted know what hit them. The only sign of her presence is a ripple in the otherwise still pool.

[awdz]

Tagath told this story, and said I could post it here:

A young man once lived east of Dalimond near Chiconis with his only daughter. His daughter took care of tending the home while her father, a carpenter, took to the forest to cut down elm. They lived a happy life, selling the tools and goods he made.

But as the years went on and the winters got cold, the man grew weaker as his age progressed. His daughter, ever loyal, chose to stay with him as his comfort while he lived.

One winter day, the wind was particularly cold and bitter and while out felling trees, the man caught a cold. His illness made him lose his concentration and he felled a tree on top of himself and died.

His daughter, unaware of his fate, continued tending house, waiting for him to come home. In the evening when he surely should have been home, she ventured out into the forest searching for her father.

She got lost in the blizzard that kicked up in the forest and lost her way. The cold and snow eventually overcame her and she also perished in the forest.

Now, when you go to the elm forest between Dalimond and Chiconis, listen for the wind. You may yet still hear the old man felling trees or his daughter calling his name.

[awdz]

I'll post the stories I told on October 31, 2011 one a day or so until all five are up. I had made them up on the spot that evening except for the one with the chick, so they are a bit rough even with my touching up punctuation and grammar. Many thanks to all who listened! :-)

Wet Willie Woes
Once upon a time were a brother and a sister. Like many siblings, they squabbled and teased one another constantly. The brother developed a habit of giving his sister a wet willie (finger in her ear) whenever he could catch her off guard. She grew to detest it, and yelled at him to stop it.

Seeing the reaction he got from it, he did not stop. The sister started insulting him, saying he was stupid for doing it. This evolved into her telling him he had no brains and should go search for some.

The brother thought she was funny and even teased her with it in public. Their friends laughed too and started to pick on her as well. She yelled at them to go get some brains too, as they 'obviously do not have any'.

Over time, the teasing continued and the sister got angrier and angrier. Finally one day she snapped. She took a sharp cooking knife and sliced off her brother's finger when he gave her a wet willie…but that is not all she cut. She had at him, killing him in her anger. Then she stormed outside, not looking where she was going.

One of her brother's friends snuck up on her and gave her a wet willie too. She gave him the same response as she had to her brother.

Twice more this happened before folks realized what was going on. When they tried to subdue the sister, she fought so hard she was killed too.

In shock, the community buried all of their dead together. But when the next night of no moon came about, the ground at the gravesite was disturbed. It seems the worms that crawl in and worms that crawl out upset the sister's wet willie sensitivity even in death. She rose out of the grave moaning in protest.
But the dead have trouble communicating, so instead of yelling that they were stupid and should get some brains, all that came out was, "braaaaiiiinnnnssss". Her brother and friends followed her lead, as they discovered they did not like the wormy feel either.

Which is why there are zombies roaming about the land moaning "braaaiiinnnsss" and lacking fingers.

[awdz]

2 of 5 from 2011

Cadaverous key
Once there lived a very sly rogue. He had developed skills in tinkering and as a jeweler, and was thus very adept at working finely-wrought metals. He prided himself on knowing mechanical workings and how to undo snarls of chain. He created intriguing works for display, of little to no practical use. But when the seasons turned and hard times came to the land, folks did not seek out his novelty work.

Angered that folks no longer seemed to care for his work and in need of sustenance, he turned to another trade. He took up locksmithing - and more importantly, he studied how to open locks. Using his mastery of metalworking, he crafted special tools. With his special tools, he practiced opening locks of all kinds. But he put his skill to bad use.

He took to sneaking into locked buildings and rooms, to take what was inside for himself. Unfortunately for this rogue, his skills at sneaking were not nearly as good as his skills at lockpicking. After a string of robberies, he was caught by the militia.

The community was so upset, he was sentenced to sit in a locked cage in the town square. Without his tools, he was unable to work the lock. And though he was able to catch rainwater to drink, he was slowly starving. Eventually he got so thin he was barely more than bones.

Finally came the day when he died and the birds picked off what little remained on his bones, leaving him truly just a skeleton. No one knows exactly what happened that night when he disappeared, but the common story is that he used his finger bones to pick the lock and walk out of his cage at last.

Thus a key that can open any lock is known as a skeleton key.

[awdz]

3 of 5 from 2011

A Bird in the Cave

Everyone knows how protective dragons are of their eggs; birds of their nests too, for that matter. Well, somehow - no one is quite sure how - a chicken egg got into the back of a dragon's lair, and in the warmth of the lava-heated lair, it hatched.

The chick had plenty to feed on, as dragons are so large as to not worry about crumbs. By instinct, it knew to hide when large creatures moved nearby. It learned early on to hide in tiny inaccessible nooks, but it did not learn to stay quiet.

It considers its peeps to be musical and loves to sing. However, the dragons hear its peeps as a repeated single tone, identical every time. When they start to search for it, then the chick goes silent, and the dragons cannot pinpoint from where the sound comes. So they turn away, thinking the sound silenced, only for it to start in again very shortly thereafter.

The chick learned how to survive the smashing of a general wall area by frustrated dragons, too.

And now you know why when a dragon is upset they may yell, "And I don't want to hear a peep out of you!"

[awdz]

4 of 5 from 2011

Necroflies Nonsense

You've seen necroflies along the coast south of Bristugo, in the muck flats where they did not used to be. There used to be common flies around there instead, buzzing about their business. But then one summer, the flies started to hear a swish-slup, swish-slup off the edge of the flats. Curious, they tried to decide what to do about it.

"Stay away from it, curiosity will get you killed!" insisted the oldest fly. Everyone knew he had seen his mate get swatted after flying too close to a smelly human, so they dismissed his warning as over-the-top bitterness.

They decided they would go to investigate the sound in a group, so off they went to see. At the edge of the muck flats were some bushes that shook with each swish-slup. Hesistant so close to it, they decided to send one fly in.

The 'volunteer' flew into the leaves, gave a cry of wonder, and then said nothing more. The other flies were left puzzled. What kind of magic was this?

A small group of them worked up the nerve to go in together. They flew into the leaves and started to exclaim, "Hey look at that-" when swish-slup, there was no more sound from them.

Now everyone knows that flies are annoying but not very bright. The rest of the flies decided they had to go see whatever it was too, and flew into the bushes in a great cloud. They found themselves in a very damp, very dark cave with ooze covering all surfaces.

Swish-slup! The ruxus closed its tongue and mouth around them, and swallowed. But this time, the cloud of flies was so dense, they did not digest like normal. The ruxus belly convulsed several times as the flies transformed, and in a great ruxus belch, it released the flies back into the muck flats.

And that is how there are necroflies in the muck flats today, nearby where the ruxus migrate.

[awdz]

5 of 5 from 2011

Heartfelt Howls

If ever you look up at the full moon, hear calling in the distance and think it passionate cries, take heed of the tale of Wyntal.

Wyntal had his eye on a lovely maid that did not seem to dislike him. They oft found reason to chat at public events and sat together for community picnics. On the eve of the harvest moon was a dance, and Wyntal asked Haida - for that was the maid's name - if she would allow him to walk her home afterward. She agreed, but asked him to meet her outside as she needed to use the 'powder room' once more before leaving.

Wyntal wandered outside for a few minutes under the bright full moon, circling around two sides of the building where the dance was held. As he gazed at the moon, he heard a noise around the next side of the building. Under the spell of the full moon, he thought it was his lady calling to him.

Alas, as he walked around that side of the building, he was jumped by a monster that had been hiding in the trees. He fought it off just enough to survive – but he was not unchanged.

The creature, sensing that Wyntal was infected, let him go. The lad ran to meet his love at the front of the building. She fussed over his injuries, but he would not let her lead him back inside. He felt he needed to get away from the loud music and firelight, so she agreed to wait until they got to her home and bandage him up there.

But it was a viral infection flooding Wyntal's veins and a very full moon in the sky. About a quarter of the way to Haida's home, Wyntal became aware of how delicious she smelled. About half way to Haida's home, Haida began to get nervous at how Wyntal was looking at her and licking his lips. About three-quarters of the way to Haida's home, they left the path.

Search parties the next day found bits of ribbon from Haida's hair and two buttons from Wyntal's shirt alongside confusing tracks. For what began as human footsteps, were crossed over by wolf prints of great size.

Neither of the two were ever seen again.

Some say baying in the distance at the full moon is the cry of lost hearts, mourning the life they never got to live.