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 Posted: Wed Sep 26, 2007 7:52 am
The Melancholy Team's Room. As you step into the Rooms set aside for use by the Melancholics, you are greeted at the door by Sable, the Hunter of Empyrean City. She grins wide at you, eyes glinting in the light as brightly as her muzzleful of fangs. She hunches down towards you, her claws extended and blade additions razor sharp. "Welcome to our House of Horror." She grins, eyeing you and licking her lips as if you would make a delicious snack. "We've gathered a multitude of horrible things just for the purpose of making your heart pump a little faster. Step through the doorway to begin your journey, and remember" She seizes you by the back of your neck and brings her furred face so close you can feel her acrid breath hot on your skin. "Don't lash out and nothing will lash back." Then she gives you a brutal shove towards the door and cackles unkindly from behind you, "And try not to wet yourself like the last group did going through..."
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Posted: Wed Sep 26, 2007 8:02 pm
The Tent of the Gypsies...  The light jingle of bells greets you when you first step into the tent, which is decorated in the most lavish of ways with rich color and rich item alike, brilliant and enticing. A bed lays in the middle of it all, covered with blankets and pillows simply calling for one to lay down and relax, to stay for perhaps a bit of company...
You look around slowly, not knowing what to think or what to do in this empty room, that is clearly supposed to be a room of invitation and temptation. Should you wait for someone to come and see you? Should you go onwards and hope that nothing stops you? There are several options truly...
But before you can choose, a light hand skims along your arm, along your side, leaving a trail of something slick and red. But the moment you look at the trail straight on, rather than peripheral, it's gone and there's just a boy standing beside you with a coy smile on his lips. "Fortunes, my sweet? I could tell you what is coming up for you..." he murmured, stepping away towards the bed, where he sat languidly and held up a simple bag.
You are tempted... he could surely tell you many things, and those eyes, those red, look terribly innocent and sweet. You consider for a moment, before moving to sit with him on the bed, unable to help but to feel... just a little embarrassed. But he seems to be not the slightest bit nervous abotu your current position, simply taking a deck of cards out of the bag and holding them out to you with hands dazzled with bangles and rings in brilliant silver.
"Shuffle them for me?" he asks, and you nod, your hands beginning to shuffle the cards together and apart, separating and rearranging, creating a deck specifically to spell your future, be it doom or delight... It's all in your hands. When you finish, you hold it out again, allowing the boy to take back his deck of cards, which he lays lightly before him. He looks at you and smiles, before picking up the first card, laying it before you and tsking just lightly.
"You have an adventure upcoming, of dangerous quality..." he murmurs, tilting his head to one side and stroking the simple design on the card. "There will be a great many trials for you... step after step, you will wonder if you're going to survive..."
Another card is drawn and he holds it up, showing you this new design. What does it mean? The symbols and shapes have no sense in your mind and you look to him with curiosity and perhaps a dash of hope that it will be something good now. But there's no such thing to hope for... "You're afraid and searching for someone to trust... you will not find such a thing, as you go through a journey of danger, history, and risk, where all of your decisions will affect your outcome..."
As he speaks, he draws more cards, divining their meaning for you and telling you what is coming up for you so soon, whether you wish for it to or not.
"Do you want to hear more?" he asks suddenly, looking up to meet your gaze, his eyebrows rising slightly as he questions you. Weren't his clothes a dull grey before? Now they're a bright red, brilliant as the room around you and giving you a strange feeling of being unsafe. Should you stay here? "Well?"
You get to your feet suddenly, scattering the cards and hissing softly as the side of one bites in the flesh of your finger, leaving a thin, bleeding cut there. The gypsy gets to his feet slowly, eyes narrowed as he approaches you, each step accentuated by the light ting-ting-ting of bells - a warning, a call to run, but you find your feet glued to the floor as you watch him come nearer...
His hands reach for you, but you are not pulled into danger, as you feared you may have been - rather you are pushed, away and towards another flap on the tent, leading in a different direction than you came and surely towards the dangers of which he had spoken of when telling you what the cards were telling him.
"Go then! Go to the fate I told you, and perhaps you will get lucky and be able to come back for another reading sometime!"
And onwards you are taken, to the next room...
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Posted: Wed Sep 26, 2007 8:14 pm
Dance of the Clowns Upon entering, you find yourself in what appears to be some sort of striped tent, although the dim light is barely able to find its way through the cloth, which is dark, dingy, and tired-looking. The floor seems to be hard-packed sand, which drifts up in small clouds as you carefully make your way forward, peering all around you. The words of your fortune, and the gypsy boy rattle about in your head, and you can’t help but to be a bit on edge…anxious. Dangers ahead. You tremble a bit…but as you look around, all seems abandoned and dark, and you begin to wonder if this is some sort of joke. You take another step, and then freeze as a sinister giggle comes from the surrounding shadows, somewhere over your left-hand shoulder. You whirl around, ears straining over the silence…and before you is a grossly contorted face, grinning at you with inhumanly sharp teeth and a strangely out-of-place red nose. A bright light shines upon the apparition from above it, and it suddenly gives off another hysteric laugh, looming closer. You back away (who wouldn’t?) with a nervous chuckle, and it disappears, still grinning. Glancing about yourself in anticipation, you can’t help but to startle a little bit as another overly bright light comes on—a spotlight this time, from behind the illuminated small figure standing in the center of the room. Even if you squint, you can’t quite make out more than its silhouette, with its tiny top hat and crazily spiked pigtails. Then, a flash of white- the thing is grinning at you, it seems. This isn’t so bad, you hesitantly decide, for who could fear something so small? Taking another bold step towards the illuminated being, you silently dare it to acknowledge you…and are obeyed, when with a bone-chilling and manic giggle, it comes toward you. Now, you can truly see this manifestation for what it truly is—a small child, it seems, with an inhumanly large grin and white face, with large purple spots accenting its eyes (giving them a sunken and accusing look) and mouth. She wields a whip, which cracks sharply in warning as she draws nearer. Finally, stopping just before you, she raises her eyes to yours, eyes too old, too knowing for one her size… "Let the Show Begin."Suddenly, there is light and colour everywhere, and faces dance in and out of view, leering and cruel. Hands grab out for you, and somewhere nearby carnival music begins to play—but it is not like any carnival music you’ve heard, dreary in its minor key. There is hysterical laughter all around you, and you long to press your hands to your ears, to block it out. Time to go. This sensory overload is just too much to take- you hunch your shoulders and barrel through, desperate to find the way out of this surreal circus.
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Posted: Wed Sep 26, 2007 8:24 pm
The Graveyard CausewayAs you leave the eerie carnival music wheedling away behind you, you shake yourself to banish the nauseous feeling of unease in your stomach. Instead you move forward down the hallway, to advance along a long, dark hallway. There is wrought iron fencing lining the way, and beyond it on either side you can see rows upon rows of tombstones lost into the mists on either side. Dead, naked trees stick like black outlines in the fog. Somewhere in an undiscenrable distance you hear the sound of rattling chains, though whether it's the bitter wind or something less natural moving them is impossible to discern. The cobbled pathway through the graveyard is unsteady and seems excessively long. At last, though you see an archway at the other end; an exit perhaps? Or more terrors in store?
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Posted: Wed Sep 26, 2007 8:37 pm
The Hunt of the Werewolf Ducking through that archway, you breathe a sigh of relief as the forest-scape before you seems comparatively normal in contrast to the rooms that came before it, and the terrifying tunnelway you have just emerged from. The darkness is thick, and through the rising mist you can catch glimpses of bark, trees…tall-standing pines and firs. Panting, you can see your breath…or is that just another facet of your imagination on this harrowing trip?
Moments after your panic begins to subside, you realize with not a little foreboding that there is a moon to be seen above, real or no…it glows with a reddish hue, bathing the path before you blood-red, crimson shadows beneath the trees, and as you step forward, you detect with a start that there is movement among them, silvery shadows.
A low rumbling is heard from behind you and the hair at the nape of your neck stands on end as a shiver runs down your spine, as a eerie sound chills your very blood, a mournful howl that no human should be capable of, and a large, furry creature is silhouetted in the circular frame of that otherworldly moon.
A wolf…
…and wolves run in packs.
With more than a wee bit of alarm you remember the growl, and whirling, you turn to face the gaping maw of a snarling creature, it’s fangs hideously long, bright yellow eyes glowing with their own inner light, like a demon from a storybook, it seems to have fixated upon you as its prey. Blood drips from the creature’s fanged mouth, and to your further distress, the feral being rises, to stand upon its hind legs, towering over you as its head tilts back to answer the howl of the other of its kind.
Your first impulse is to flee, but then a slender figure appears from the gloom, extending a hand to you. At first glance, you calm…but with closer inspection the urge to run only rises. A clawed hand reaches for you, and canine fangs are bared…eyes glowing amber in the moonlight.
He’s one of them, the change rippling just beneath his skin.
Not wishing to be lunch for a werewolf, you tear down the path before you, heedless of the branches that tear at you, but dreadfully aware of the thumping of your heart, and the steady beat of paws at your heels. Breaking through a small stand of firs the sound of the pack on the hunt finally begins to fade, howling their dismay.
You have escaped, but what lies ahead?
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Posted: Wed Sep 26, 2007 8:56 pm
The Creature of the BogStep, step, SQUELCH.
Oh, dear. You seem to have stepped in a mud-puddle, the gook sucking at your shoe. It would be wise to stick to the path in here, or else risk getting stuck in the mud, murky water, and slime that is all around you.
Tall grasses and cattails make for a soft hissing background noise, and the occasional frog-plop, the steady hum of billions of insects, and your own footfalls are the only things that can be heard. The path that you walk along is made of hard-packed dirt (and grainy wood, in the wetter parts of the trail), with inconsistent rope-handles, and along said path are muddy footprints.
Who could they be from?
As you tromp along, you suddenly come to a place where the footprints stop in the middle of a plank-bridge. The slimy water ripples beneath it, and a single shoe half-floats nearby. Uh oh. This doesn’t look good for you at all, does it? Will you proceed onward? Will you dare the same fate as the owner of that shoe?
Somewhere underneath the plank someting moves, lurches, sending you tumbling, groping blindly for the handrail. You manage, barely to grip the slimy moss-covered rope hung by the planks. As you look down at the grimy wood you notice bubbles erupting from the muck on either side.
Bubble.... Bubble... Still. Bubble... Bubble... Still.
Something down there is breathing, rolling over, alive. The boards lurch again. Your heart is hammering in your ears as you grip the guide rope for dear life.
And then the planks begin to rise and you scramble forward, afraid of being tossed headlong into the bog, too afraid to face whatever is lurking down in the muck and the mire.
You cast a furtive glance over your shoulder as you run squelching off along the crude path. Something massive rises from the mud behind you, dripping and hanging with dark, obscuring its true shape. You think you make out a gaping maw yawning under the two terrible eyes that peer out from the slime. And hanging from that mouth is a limp leg upon which the match to the lost shoe you found along the boards can be seen.
Run, child, run... The beast is hungry still....
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Posted: Wed Sep 26, 2007 9:15 pm
Tribal Shaman
It seems that you are not quite out of the woods yet. Heart racing from the terrors you’ve witnessed thus far, your heartbeat seems unnaturally loud as you step into the strangely green-tinted fog that hovers thickly in the air of the next room. The only other sound, you might notice, is a faint crackling, like wood burning. Even if you squint, you cannot make out what is before you, save for vague shapes. You decide that the best course of action is to just head toward the sound, for better or for worse, and carefully head out into the murk.
Hands blindly out in front of you, you are led by sound alone. As you go, the crackling becomes the background to some eerie chant. The words are unfamiliar, but don’t seem unfriendly, and so you carry on until you can see a faint glow through the haze. The way out? You quicken your pace, either way.
As you attempt to peer through the steadily thinning haze, a strange scene indeed can be found before you. As you had observed, there is a fire going, with a massive cauldron atop it, which is where the smog of green is being emitted. If you were to peer inside of it, you would find a soup of sorts, with odd, rubbery pieces of meat, various herbs, and…oh goodness, is that a finger?
Suddenly, there is movement from behind the soup-pot. You jump; you hadn’t noticed that anybody was there before now. But it makes sense that there is somebody else here…you heard chanting before, which had to come from somewhere, after all. Apprehensive after all you’ve been through, you don’t dare to step closer, although it turns out that there is no need, for the dark figure draws nearer with every passing moment. Her (for it is a she) eyes are startlingly bright in contrast with her dark skin, which bears strange markings, painted on by well-practiced fingers. The same dully-painted markings also appear in variations on her shoulders and arms, as well as all the rest of her skin that you can see. She grins widely, eyes darting from you to her concoction and back again. Only now do you realize that there are skulls strung on the trees around you, and that in her hand is a very sharp (and somewhat stained…although you don’t think you want to know what it’s stained with!) knife. She rattles the pouch at her hip, stepping forward and reaching claw-like hands out for you while picking up her incantations where she left off. The words no longer seem friendly, or even harmless, as you now can see what she wants from you. Yikes! You certainly don’t want to become dinner, and so, backing hastily away, you turn and bolt.
Luckily, you seem to have run in the right direction, for the fog becomes lighter around you, and ah…! Is that the door you see?
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Posted: Wed Sep 26, 2007 9:25 pm
The Army of the BonesHeads turn towards you as you open the door. You find yourself face to face with an army of men, all dressed in sharply-cut uniforms, faces hidden behind inhuman masks. Around the room they stand and sit, some cleaning machinery for wicked purposes, others heat irons in hot coals for use in torture. In hallways leading out of this room you catch glimpses of torture and hear gagged moans and pitiful wails as they mutilate unseen victims.
The leader stands forward from the rest, his hands resting easily on his belt, his blades and spines jutting up cruelly from his uniform.
"This is the Army of Bones, soldier. It is we who carry out the death of millions. Genocide is a lucrative business if you know where to look."
His men chuckle darkly behind him.
When you don't laugh along with the rest, but instead stare wide-eyed at the implements and terrible men in the room, they begin to grow suspicious. The General of the Bones slides his hand to a firearm on his hip, his expression unreadable behind his mask. You dart your glance between the doorways in the room, and see there is only one unguarded.
At the same moment you and the Army make your decisions; you dart forward into the throngs of cruel soldiers dodging between grabbing gloved hands and swinging rifle butts, while behind you the General shrieks,
"Seize the intruder!"
Somehow you manage to throw them off and dive forward into the dark stone corridor. You hit the stones hard and roll tumbling down a shaft into the belly of the ruins.
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Posted: Wed Sep 26, 2007 9:34 pm
Ghost's Masquerade  As you draw yourself to standing, you look forward, eager despite the fear that hovers at the back of your mind. A portal appears before you, grand and noble in its design. Rich oiled wood shines in the light of softly flickering oil lamps while shadows dance about the edges. Some seem to almost reach out to you but they quickly collapse in on themselves and sway in another direction.
Stepping through, the sweet sound of a ballroom meets your ears and warm light spills in through the tall windows, casting stark marks across the polished surface of the marble dance floor. To go to move forward, expecting there to be a flat surface and stumble as you reach the edge of a small set of stairs. Glancing down you blink as the well cared for floor seems to shift, looking decayed and worn for but an instant. Odd…. Still, the warmth of a cheerful fire in the main hearth and the musical laughter of guests urges you onward.
Careful now, you descend the stairs then look up to find the room fairly buzzing with life and activity. All around you, gracious guests mingle or dance or feast and every person has on a masquerade mask. A merry party held in honor of All Hallow’s Eve. Onward you go, exploring the vast room, touching the pillars of the finest stone, perhaps nibbling on a candy apple and interact with those about you. For the most part, they are pleasant but distant… distracted. While not particularly appealing, the treatment can be dismissed on the festive atmosphere as you too find yourself distracted.
Suddenly, a sprightly song is struck and the room begins to move. Everywhere, people take a partner and crowd the central area – the dance floor. Within minutes, a lively dance is set in motion and the riot of colour takes on a strangely flowing, almost hypnotic pattern. Caught up in the commotion, you join in – but only for a moment, the windows have caught your attention. They spill warm light and yet that brief glimpse revealed darkness outside….
Excusing yourself, you make your way over on the excuse of needing some air. No one stops you and the gap left by your exit is soon filled by another eager spirit. Smiling, you look out the window to find a moonless night. You blink and look again only to shiver as a wind as cold as ice slides past your body and pricks at the back of your neck. When you glance up once more, it is no longer night but sunset – the source of the golden glow. Frowning slightly, you wrap your arms around you in an effort to warm up and turn to go sit beside the fire.
It is then, a young man steps forward, dressed in formal wear and a mask as well. His posture is prim and proper and the small smile he wears is knowing as he bows to you and holds out a hand in greeting, “Come away now, you’ll grow cold by the windows.” His voice is silken, full of promise and confidence. Nodding, you walk after him as he guides you to the fire. While you walk, you notice that the revelers make way for this mysterious person. His dress is no finer then the others… he wears no mark of rank or authority… With a sigh you decide that perhaps he is a host here. Taking you gaze from this regal creature, you glance about.
On the edges of the crowd, and interspersed throughout, you see skull faces floating, watching you with lidless eyes as though waiting for something. Quickly, you look down and find those nearest you lack feet… indeed they seem to float just above the ground. Shivering once more, you pause in your step.
“Something the matter?” The cool voice asks from beside your ear. Jumping, you look up and realize you stand before the massive hearth. You reply that you are fine but might like to withdraw as you are feeling sleepy. He nods, smiling once more and gestures at the plush chair that sits before the crackling flames. Beside it, suspended from a wrought iron stand is a bowl of silvery orbs. They glitter and shift making it difficult to focus on just one. “Stay a few more minutes, you have yet to make your wish.” Your host is kind in his request and you agree, moving forward as directed.
Drawing near the bowl, the icy wind of before cuts through the ballroom once more and again you are the only one to react. Tilting your head, you decide it’s best to do as asked and then leave. There is something not right about this festival. Reaching in, the shadows about you shift, their forms growing pointed and a feeling of hunger seeps into the atmosphere. Beside you, the silvery man merely nods his head to indicate you should go on.
Reluctantly, you put your hand in amongst the orbs. They feel cool, distant. But then, a warmer one brushes your hand and you move to grasp it, sensing some sort of familiarity with it. If you are to make a wish, the thing you make the wish with should be right, no? A faint smile plays across your features as you withdraw the glittering orb.
“Now toss it in the fire and make your wish.” There’s a sense of victory in his instructions and it gives you pause. Looking up, you gasp as the hall you were in is no longer lit with bright braziers and alive with the laughter of merry makers. All around, haunted features stare at you blindly, their masks gone and their bodies transparent. A ghost’s masquerade… Terrified, you step back, your gaze flying to your host as you drop the sphere in your hand.
“No!” He shouts reaching out in vain to capture the orb before it shatters at your feet. He is the only solid being in the room and this, more the ghosts, makes the spike of fear that grips you tighten. That the other had made way makes sense now. Stepping back again, you turn to leave while this lord of souls is distracted.
When you turn about fully, you find yourself face to face with the Host, his mannerisms no longer pleasantly neutral. His cold blue eyes blaze and cut through you, “You will join us someday.” He opens his mouth to speak further but you run without looking back.
At the threshold of the exit, you look back briefly as the faint sound of a fine glass bauble shattering bids you farewell. The ballroom is empty now, cold and lifeless. Lonely even. With a sigh of relief you move onward.
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Posted: Wed Sep 26, 2007 11:20 pm
The Pharaoh's Tomb  Some space here please.
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Posted: Thu Sep 27, 2007 7:30 am
Enter the OccultThe next room you find yourself in is completely black. That is not to say that there is no light, for there is certainly a gentle glow from the many braziers that adorn the walls, but the walls, ceiling and floor themselves are blacker than night. If you aren't careful, you might get the feeling of...walking in nothing, falling into the great open, prey to the madness that your own mind had created.
“The meaning of the word 'occult',” a soft voice comes from deep within the shadowed bowels of the room, “comes from the Latin term 'occultus', meaning 'clandestine' or 'hidden', referring to the secretive nature of the forbidden knowledge the Occult surrounds.” With a slight curve of lips, a robed figure seems to materialize from the darkness. Garnet hued locks of long hair fall over slim, pale shoulders, her skin seeming to glow in the dim light issuing forth from the candles that were being held in elaborate candelabras, symbols and arcane runes carved carefully into the gold. “Welcome, strangers. I do not know what you have seen or heard so far on your journeys, but I can assure you that you have yet to encounter anything... like this.” With an elegant sweet of her hand, long sleeve of her robe billowing dramatically, the light from the candles flared, illuminating what had once been in shadow.
“There is a reason, my good lords and ladies, that the knowledge of the Occult is forbidden. Those who dabble in it lightly are often consumed by it's dark and often... unpredictable power.” A ghost of a smirk moved across her thin lips, eyes filled with knowledge- dark and terrible knowledge- seeming to follow your every move, dissect your every thought, even those most secret and guarded musings locked tight within your heart of hearts. “But for those who are strong enough to bend it to their will... The Dark Arts have endless, pleasurably terrifying possibilities. It is whispered among those in the know that the highest of the Dark Orders can summon spirits, demons even, from the ninth ring of Hell and beyond. Raising the dead is child's play for the true masters.” From within the folds of her cloak, she withdrew a thin wand, a black crystal at it's tip.
“Thankfully for you, I am not one of those masters.” A sigh of relief leaves your lungs and throat, before a feeling of terror wells within you as the girl, her eyes like blood in the candlelight, lifts the tip of her wand to your throat, pressing it there lightly. “But do not make the mistake of making yourself comfortable around me. I am still quite good. Come along then,” she adds in a lighter tone, a sweet smile, suspiciously serene and innocent, on her pale mouth. “I've many things to show you... So much of the macabre, and so little time, as they say.”
Following the thin form of the cloaked young woman, who had yet to introduce herself to you, you stare in horror at the shelves that line the pitch-black walls of the chamber. Jars of mysterious liquids, with equally mysterious... things within them. Complex circles and patterns of runes decorate the wall, some written in a flowing script, the ink gold. Others, written in a hue to match the young girl's eyes, scrawled carelessly, as if making notes in the blood of some poor victim. The room is cold- or is it just terror dancing up your spine, curving against your cheek like the touch of long-forgotten, ill-remembered lover.
“Mind your step, won't you? The things that go bump in the night tend to bump rather... gruesomely. Despite the apparent mess, I do like to keep my things in order. Now then, if you'll simply follow me... You'll be out soon enough, no harm done... More's the pity.” Again, the sickeningly sweet smile formed on her lips, a gross mockery of a true expression of happiness. “I'm sure you're wondering just what it is I do in here, hmm?” Of course you had been wondering exactly that. How could one not, when surrounded with all the horrifying components of sorcery at it's worst? “While I cannot raise the dead just yet... I haven't let that fact keep me from trying. Perhaps you would like to see my inner work room?” With a soft laugh, she opened a door that dominated one side of the hallway, it's hinges wrought iron, it's face covered with dark stains, all of which may not have been from blood alone.
“So many coffins! The smell may be unbearable at first, but I'm confident that you'll- Oh. Well now, this is a pity isn't it?” Light poured from within the room, unnatural white-blue light, and the only smell that came forth was that of fresh air, a cold but welcome reprieve from the incense-heavy atmosphere of the room. “It seems I've led you to the way out... Pity, pity. Still, since we're here... I may as well not disturb my work. It's a rather delicate process, as I'm sure you know. The connection between body and soul is truly a frail one... In fact, I'm certain I could disconnect yours right now, so experienced I am...” Again, the black-tipped wand moved along your skin, trailing down your cheek to your chest. Your heart bets wildly, your breathing labored. Were you imagining it, or was there a tug at your heart?
“But I promised to let all who entered here pass through safely. It's certain that removing your soul from your body would not fall under the 'arrived safely' description. Very well then. Be on your way. The faint of heart have never been quite my... taste. Good evening...” With a bow, she indicates for you to pass through the grand doorway. With haste, and hardly a 'good evening' in return, you quickly escape.
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Posted: Thu Sep 27, 2007 6:15 pm
The Mad Scientist's Laboratory:
The next room is preceded by a flash of light striking up the stone walls and the subsequent crackle of electricity. As you press through the ajar door, you hold your breath...
Within the room, all manner of mad equipment has been built up in the centre of the room surrounding a metal autopsy table. Tall metal poles with ringed spheres of glinting steel and copper surround the worktable, the cold blue crackle of lightning zapping between the spheres and poles with a great cacophany of glaring light and jarring noise.
You step in past the switches along the wall and hear a terrible shrieking wail as something strapped to the oporating table squirms and writhes against its bonds. It feebly tries to reach towards you with its clawlike hands, but restrained as it is by a thick leather strap across its elbows it can only brush against you as you wriggle between the wall and the table, looking for a way through the room.
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Posted: Thu Sep 27, 2007 6:19 pm
But no ... looking about, it seems this is a different place entirely. Most of the graves are old, forgotten - letters worn off the stones and dust and dirt covering everything. Slowly, you begin to relax. This doesn't seem so terrible a place as the ones you have been through before.
And then you notice something different about one of the graves up ahead. This one appears to be fresh - the dirt wet and dark brown, standing out like a beacon among the dusty grey colors that seem to permeate the rest of your surroundings.
For some reason, you find yourself drawn to it, stopping just at the edge of the dirt. Wasn't there something about walking on a grave is bad luck? Glancing back, suddenly you notice subtle differences in the ground, here and there. The marked graves are not only ones. You have been walking over graves ... the entire time you've been here.
Suddenly, something grabs at your ankle - a skeletal hand, flesh just starting to rot, having come from the fresh grave now at your back. With a startled noise, you jump backwards, but the hand's grip does not loosen. Instead, your movement draws the rest of the arm out of the grave - followed soon enough by a torso, and head. Eyes glow red as the zombie grins, showing a mouthful of teeth too sharp to belong to a human.
Maybe these are the results of past experiments. With a shriek, you scramble backwards, only to bump into yet another zombie that has come out of the ground. Spinning, your eyes dart about, looking for a way out ... these zombies look ... hungry. Spotting what you think is a clear path, you start to run, ripping away from the one holding your ankle and batting away hands that reach for you, ducking snapping jaws ....
Until finally, you burst from the graveyard to find the door into the next area looming ahead. No way to go back ... the only way is forward...........
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Posted: Thu Sep 27, 2007 6:31 pm
The Demons of HellAn armoured and horned man sits above the entrance into the final room of this Haunted House. The entrance way is a misshapen arch of crumbling stone, the glow coming from it fiery red and molten hot. The Demon Senechal looks down at you and grins.
"You are where you ought to be...Step inside; Eternity won't get any shorter for your waiting there..."You can hear deep, primal drumbeats, the rhythm deep enough to rattle the decrepit stone floor and shake you to the marrow of your bones. Above the endless drumbeats you can hear howling, torn-throated singing, interspersed with shrieks of agony and ecstacy. With nowhere else to turn, you step forward into the Realm of Hell.The cacophany of sound is overpowering. For a moment after stepping over the threshold, you need to wait for your brain to function again. If you were to scream your lungs raw, you still would not be able to hear your own voice in this multitude of chaos. As your ringing ears attempt to comprehend this endless noise and demonic music and shrieking voices, your eyes are equally pressed to comprehend all that you can see.The chamber- if it can even be called that - is endless. The ceiling and walls are nowhere in sight, so endlessly does this space stretch on. Jagged spines, accomplished by no mortal architech, rise assymetrical into the endless space above, eventually lost in the haze. Likewise, the floor drops away below you, leaving only the seething, roiling mass of lava and fire pouring away into what could conceivably be the heart of the planet itself. The only path forward is a spider's web of what appears to be solidified tar, as if some massive god had allowed the black oil to drip down and coat a spider's web stretched out across the body of this pit. Do you dare step out on this frail-looking walkway? Will it hold you? Is it solid in this heat?The heat is tremendous, already your skin is slick with sweat, your eyes, nose and mouth stinging from breathing in such putrid hot air. The smell of brimstone and sulphur is unimaginably unpleasant, and mixed with the scent of old sex, and dried blood. You feel very near to vomiting. Even the hair along your arms and legs feels like it is singed, your clothing growing so unimaginably hot you are tempted to tear it from your flesh before it melts into your skin. And everywhere in this place, bodies and monsters mingle. Mortals run screaming and tearing over the structures, paying no heed to cardinal direction. They scramble up the jagged stairways, slip and fall down the slippery descents, drag themselves left and right across the spider's web of tar, all the while endlessly pursued by monsters of every ilk. These are Demons, you know. It is a fact that arises from your very core with such sheer terror that you freeze, as if afraid that any motion will draw their attention. As you watch, horrified beyond reason, the Demons stalk their quarry, playing with the deranged mortals with patience and mirth, as if it were no more than a game. But those that they catch, they pin down and defile: beating them with flails and whips, tearing away what little rags they have left and raping them, often doing both simultaneously. And from somewhere above, that awful choir continues singing their maddening racket. You look up into the haze, as if trying to find something that can make it all stop. And there you see, reigning down over it all, a Queen of Hell, wreathed in fiery chains and cut leather. Her skin is pristinely white, her long dark hair curling about her in endless spirals of inky black. Her face is painted with red make-up, lips and eyes the colour of blood both. "Another drop of oil into a boiling sea..." She hisses sensually, sliding forward on the throne of suspended chains in which she lounges. Her gaze seems to stare straight into you, icy cold despite the heat that suffocates you. And then you are lifted by no touch at all, into the air and towards her. You try to flail in protest, to claw your way away, but there is nothing but stiffling air to claw at and your motion does not slow. She draws you before her, leaves you hanging in the burning steam before her wicked throne. "And what have you done to be here, I wonder?" Her smile is as icy as her gaze, and far less forgiving. "The spirits of All Hallow's Eve have been reaping those that wandered carelessly this night. And have you let yourself be one of those fools? Do you desire to join our ranks?" Her voice is sharp, measured, neither quiet nor loud. Inhumanely perfect. You feel yourself shudder, shake your head 'no' with vehemence. "I did not think so." She answers and flings you skyward up into the boiling steam until you are swallowed by it. You can see nothing and your eyes sting so badly, you squeeze them shut. The sound of the noise blends into a terrible blur of undiscernable noise and you plug your ears against the audio assault. Perhaps you scream, you cannot tell. Then suddenly, you feel a thump, feel a sharp pain in your shoulder and realize you've stopped moving. Nauseous and wearied you open your eyes to find yourself back in the a dark, cold, stone room quite like the one you entered this Hellish journey from. Is it over?
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Posted: Thu Sep 27, 2007 6:32 pm
You stumble out of the Haunted House to find a gentleman dressed as the Grim Reaper standing there. "Happy All Hallow's Eve..." He intones in a liquid voice that sends chills up your spine. "I hope you enjoyed our little thrill ride. We went to great pains to gather all these monsters in one space, and to guarantee that had you died we would have been able to cover it up." The dark hood of the man leans forward and he laughs, a low, cold, echoing sound...
He reaches his hands out to you, and you can see they're nothing but skeletal bone, and in his hands is a thick dusty tome. "Sign our guestbook?" He whispers, and it is hardly a request.Melancholic CrosswordFor those that complete this Crossword, their names shall be put into a raffle for a draw of a free pair of Scissorhand Equips.
Clues:
Across:
2. In eastern european countries this was said to cast an evil curse on someone.
3. Antonym of Dream
4. Director famouse for macabre and gothic films
5. The onomatopaeia of a Ghost.
8. The full name of the now contracted "Halloween"
9. Bram Stoker's masterpiece.
11. "_______ Horror Picture Show"
13. Invaders in Sci-Fi
16. Vampires turn into these
19. Subtlety; rhymes with seance.
20. Annual means something occurs once every _____.
21. Where the dead are lain to rest.
23. Many scary themes come from Folk ____.
27. All villages have an angry, pitchfork-weilding ___.
28. Disgusting
30. The Empyrean who played the role of the mummified Pharoah.
32. This insect was sacred to the Egyptians.
34. Malady
35. Strange
37. The witches consecrate their spells with the phrase: "So _____ it be."
38. Practitioners of magick.
39. "Everyone has a _________ in the closet."
42. Witches brew in these.
43. In order to see ghosts you need to have developed a sixth _____.
44. Arachnids
47. The residual spirit left by a person who has died.
49. Those with a Broken status are considered ______.
50. Vermin
51. "Beetle______"
52. The authoress of "Frankenstein"
53. A film in which four teenage girls form a covent that gets out of control.
54. Graveyards usually hold the stench of ____.
Down:
1. A Disney film utilizing live action and animation.
5. Many a Pirate has a skeleton or two in the _____.
6. Angry or crazy.
7. This is a powerful symbol for witches and werewolves.
10. "So, I Married an ___Murderer"
12. Resposible for everything from Frankenstein to the incident in Racoon City.
14. Campy horror genre
15. The ___ and Flow
17. An affliction of a queazy stomach
18. Often those who experience the supernatural suffer from _____ afterwards.
22. This type of cat is considered bad luck.
24. Both Vampires and Werewolves do this.
25. Either
26. Those who die and come back to life
29. Another name for the Devil
31. The Melancholia District is said to be _______ by the Scorched Souls.
33. Will o' th' ____.
36. Don one at Hallowe'en
38. Change under the full moon's light
40. Fortunes are read with these.
41. Bloodsuckers
45. Cob and Spiders
46. An evil hex
48. the scary and/or macabre genre
55. "Tales of the ________ Keeper"
56. Serial _______
57. A video game ending in "Hill"
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