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 Posted: Fri May 30, 2014 12:55 pm
Shakuntala tried not to look dejected, tried not to feel dejected, but ended up anyway. She knew her story wasn't that scary nor was it enough to have her win, but the effort she put into telling it took a lot of out of her, and to find out it was for naught made her want to scuttle away with her tail between her legs. She ended up doing so after spying the three winners, but did not give them any congratulations. Walking away with while twiddling her thumbs, the short-haired girl only had one place to go. Her destination was her mother's booth, where she could hopefully sublimate her moping into other activities -- such as serving customers.
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Posted: Fri May 30, 2014 1:30 pm
Group Two
Cyril stuck around to listen to stories. They were pretty interesting but Cyril already had plans for himself. He wasn't really in the mood at all tell stories. After that, he left without saying farewell.
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Posted: Fri May 30, 2014 3:29 pm
Sirantha could not believe that she had won the first round, okay, she could believe it because everything she does must be done with perfection and she does not fail. She cast her gaze to Nik, she wanted to rub it in his face that she was better than him and it served him right for breaking her heart. But she kept quiet and her emotions hidden. It was time for her to think of her next tale. Many of the people were leaving the circle, glad to be free from the watchful eyes of the baldy men. There were only three who will be telling their stories, three blood chilling tales about what goes bump in the night. She looked at the other winners, one looked so sickly that she was not sure he would be able to even tell his scary story, and the other was a young girl. As she stared into the fire she bit the inside of her lower lip as she contemplated the story she would tell. What else gave her the chills besides dolls? Mirrors… mirrors in the dark. A smile played across her countenance, she knew exactly which story she was going to tell. Now she just had to wait.
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Posted: Fri May 30, 2014 3:36 pm
Axel probably should have left when the bald men announced that the rounds were over. He didn't care about losing. He just wanted to go home and pass out. But that would leave people in the clutch of the mysterious bald men, and that bothered Axel, no matter how drunk he was. So he got up from his seat by the rest of his group and headed over to Preacher. His nemesis. Also, the one person who would probably understand just how low he felt right now. Axel sat down next to Preacher and laid down on his side, practically on Preacher's lap, ready to listen to the next round of horrible stories. The noble lady from his first group was also going to be telling a scary story. "Was a pretty good story," Axel said sleepily to Preacher. "Better 'n that lady's, anyways."
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Posted: Fri May 30, 2014 3:44 pm
Alec really did want to leave but after the announcement of who won, he sat quietly at his spot not willing to budge (just yet anyway). The bald men had done a great job convincing him he should just sit tight. He'd already put up with this much drama, he might as well see who finished. Plus the chance at a few more stories sounded nice...even if they were scary. Yet there was his friend Axel moving around, and much to his surprise the drunken man stumbled closer to Preacher and flopped back down half resting his head of blonde hair on the other boys lap. Alec smiled gently, finally moving away from the safety of Lillian and Henrik's company slowly, carefully he walked closer to the pair. Once settled down in a crouch beside them, Alec reached down prodding with his index finger at the drunken blonde with a little chuckle. Axel was defiantly out of it, that was for sure. "Whats up with him...any idea?" He frowned, only having heard parts of his 'scary' story wondering how much of it had been fiction. "Preacher you have yourself a lap warmer now heh." The red head mused, also quietly congratulating the blue haired teens story and victory. "Have any thoughts for the next one?" Peering from the shelter of his bent knees to his chest, questioning the sicker of the two.
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Posted: Fri May 30, 2014 8:19 pm
Deacon didn't mind not making it to the second round, honestly. It was entertainment enough to hear the other stories around him, and he stuck around to do just that. What with it being dark, it wasn't like he was going to do anything when he went home other than try and get some sleep.
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Posted: Sat May 31, 2014 2:26 am
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Posted: Sat May 31, 2014 7:37 am
Yushi, please remove me from the list of possible winners c: I got Preacher in Mist's contest, and I want to give the others a chance. Can I still participate, though? I like telling stries hahaGrooooaaaannnnn. While Preacher was a little pleased that the bald monstrosities liked her story enough to force her to continue (she had always loved telling stories and being a little more dramatic than neseccary), being held by force was disconcerting, angering. Ruthlessly, she clamped down on her urge to fight. The cold still weakened her and these men seemed to multiply like maggots in a rotting dog. It was almost enough to make a girl believe in the supernatural. She snorted. Almost. As the smoke drifted uneasily into her eyes, she watched Shun take off like a bat out of hell. Hmph, lucky b*****d. The other boy had no tolerence for even a bit of teasing. Idly, she hoped he hadn't overheard her urging Danny onward. He would never forgive her. She was glad, though, that the hairless jailers had not molested Shun as he absconded. Preacher was pretty sure he'd been kicked to s**t earlier. And had... climbed a tree? Her memory was a bit hazy - from either her cold or the merciless head-knocking dished out by the devilish muscleheads, she couldn't be sure. People were slinking off left and right, she noticed: perhaps to their beds, their lovers, or simply their freedom. Preacher rubbed her fingers over the bump on her forehead and coughed. That cough turned into yet another groan as the ever-strange Axel came to bother her yet again. He was fixated on her tonight and drunk. And miserable, it seemed. She wondered why his miserableness caused him to seek her out, of all people. Maybe he really was into men, after all. She frowned at him. "Tha ******** ya doin', ya-" Her words ended in a near-shriek as he flopped down and shoved his head into her lap. Preahcer curled her fingers into his golden hair and tried to shove him off, but his drunk tenacity was... astounding. That coupled with her worry over their cueball enforcers' penchant for needless violence meant Preacher could only make the tiniest of movements. Instead of shoving him off, her fingers tangled in his hair. She made an irritated noise. Any aggression, and they would close in, like hounds on a rabbit. When he spoke, Preacher could feel his voice reverberate in her belly and resisted the urge to tear out bits of his hair in retaliation. "No. one. cares. Gerroff me, ya pervert." She spoke through gritted teeth at Axel. Preacher certainly didn't care about the opinion of one Axel Halle, even if he had liked her story. A fit of coughing racked her body and she bent foward, gasping. Axel's head was smooshed by the side of her stomach; it couldn't be comfortable. Served him right. As if to add insult to injury, Alec ventured over and crouched down, poking Axel in the head. Preacher looked at the red-haired boy with wide eyes. "I dunno, Curry. But, by tha walls, get him OFF!" Her voice rose and she cut herself off, glancing around nervously. It seemed as though bald head glinted nearby, staring at her. Preacher cursed quietly and gave Alec, gave anyone - a desperate look. But, she began to despair... Maybe she'd be stuck with Axel on her lap forever. The thought was disturbing, but at least her thighs would stay warm.
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Posted: Sat May 31, 2014 9:16 am
Axel waved feebly at the poking and prodding, irritated. Alec and Preacher were almost as bad as the bald men. "Alright, alright," he grumbled. He sat up, scootched away, and flopped back down on his back, head away from Preacher, and laced his fingers together behind the back of his head.
"I'm definitely going to have nightmares," he said conversationally. "What about you, Curry?"It wasn't a bad nickname.
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Posted: Sat May 31, 2014 11:20 am
Story Time – Mirror Mirror
The noble was informed that the second round had started. None of the others seemed to jump at the chance to start. Standing up marked her as the first volunteer to tell the terrifying tale. Her voice took on a eerie tune, accompanied by hushed tones. The fire danced and cast flickering shadows upon the woman.
“This is a true story…Ten years have passed since the incident and the actions of that night will forever haunt me,” She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. And so it began.
“I was at the age when I thought the world belonged to me, that my actions did not have consequences. I was eight years old. My father thought that it would benefit me to have sleep overs with other girls my age that I would learn to become a lady from these meetings. He could not have been more wrong. There was one girl in our group, her name was Anabelle, she was quiet and there always seemed to be a strange air about her. One night, when lightening was dancing across the sky, our small group of five girls decided to call upon the spirit world. Anabelle did not want to go through with the task, she felt that it would be wrong to summon a being across the veil. We all just laughed and said that nothing would happen, that it was only a joke to scare ourselves. We were young, we were silly, we did not know any better.
“All the tools for the ceremony were collected: five candles, chicken bones, a feather, a bowl of water, a sharp knife, and a mirror. We did not know what we were doing, it was only a game to be played in the dark. Around us it was completely dark, except for the lightening of the storm outside and our flickering candles. We placed the candles in a circle and placed the other items within, except for the knife which was in Anabelle’s hands. A strange gleam came to her eyes as she stared at the sharp blade. Her voice was husky as she spoke interrupting the silence, ‘How about we make this game real?’ And she took the blade and sliced her palm. She walked around the group of girls, slashing at our hands…” Sirantha held up her palm to show the circle, a small white scar was barely visible in the flickering light of the bonfire, “Whimpers filled the air, we were thinking this was no longer fun, but painful. Our blood was dripping onto the floor, mimicking the sound of rain bashing against the windows. Drip, drip, drip… Anabelle laughed as she collected the mirror and the feather, using our mixed blood as ink, she wrote upon the mirror. It was a language unknown to us, but it held power, it seemed to resonate off the girl and the object she held in her bloody hands. Her writing became more frenzied, and soon the entire reflective surface of the mirror was covered in blood symbols.
“We wanted to leave, to find someplace safe to hide, but Anabelle would not allow us to flee. As the lightning and thunder warred outside, the girl held up her creation. ‘Mirror, mirror, unite us with the dead, for you we have bled. We are your vessels, fill us with your Will!’
“I started to scream as my eyes locked upon a shadow creature that was pulling itself out of the mirror, its blood red eyes looked at each of us and a grotesque grin appeared. Black ooze continued to pour from the mirror as the creature took form. Claws took shape where the hands should be, his legs were hidden beneath a black robe, the putrid smell of decay filled the hall as the creature stalked toward the four remaining girls. It never turned his bloody gaze upon Anabelle who continued to hold its mirror.
“‘My preciouses,’ his voice hallow, ‘fine pieces to add to my collection, slaves to me for all eternity.’ He reached out with his claws and caressed my face, it caused a shudder to go down my body. My fear seemed to permeate the air, mixing with his rancid scent. He moved to the next girl. My legs gave out beneath me and I fell to the stone floor. I stared at Anabelle, my eyes pleading. But she never looked at me, her eyes were full of worship as she gazed at the creature. Silently I crawled toward the girl, not sure if what I was about to do would actually work or only make the situation worse. I stood up and grabbed the mirror from Anabelle, the blood upon the surface was dry and would not smear. Anabelle screeched as she came at me with the knife she used to call upon the beast. I blocked her blow with the mirror, causing it to shatter…” Sirantha let her voice trail off as she looked at the remaining people around the fire, “Nothing happened. The creature was still gazing at my friends with a deep insatiable hunger and Anabelle was still trying to skewer me with the blade. It was all my fault, I was the one who asked the girls to call up the dead, I thought it would be fun, and now we were going to pay dearly for my mistake. I closed my eyes, there was nothing else I could do. Just as I gave up, a violent wind came through the hall, it whipped the knife out of Anabelle’s hand and it sent the creature against the stone wall. From the broken mirror a vortex appeared, sucking in Anabelle as she screamed. The creature was next, but he would not give up his freedom so easily. His claws dug into the stone as the vortex pulled him back into the mirror. With one last howl, the shadowy creature entered his prison.
“There was nothing but silence until our sobs filled the air. The four of us walked over to the mirror and looked down at the surface. Anabelle’s leering face gazed back at us, then disappeared altogether. Now whenever lightening dances across the sky, it is said that the mirrors reflect a dark presence that is slowly biding its time until it will one day be free.”
Sirantha looked at the fire as she sat back down. Her tale was complete, it was beneficial that she had a scar upon her hand to use as a prop for the tale, otherwise the audience may have doubt about the truth of her story. It was a false story in the sense that she had never known an Anabelle or participated in a ritual to bring back the dead, but there was something spooky about mirrors on a stormy night and she could have sworn she has seen faces staring at her from within the glossy surface, faces that were not her own.
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Posted: Sat May 31, 2014 11:37 am
Telling a Story Lenore looked around at the remaining participants as she began to tell her story in her usual deadpan voice. "Once, in Trost, there was a merchant couple named the Sterns that went out for the night in a carriage. As they were heading home, they were stopped by a Garrison soldier. 'Be careful,' he said. 'There's a murderer with a hook hand on the loose. Better to stay in your home.' The couple thanked him for the warning and went on their way. After traveling a few miles, Mrs. Stern heard a sort of clawing at the back of the carriage. At first she decided it was her imagination, but the scratching grew louder and louder until she could deny it no longer. 'Dear,' she said. 'do you hear that scratching?' Mr. Stern shook his head. 'No, I don't hear anything.' But the scratching continued, and Mrs. Stern grew increasingly distraught. 'Dear, don't you hear it?' The man shrugged. 'It's probably just the wind.' The scratching continued to grow louder, more frantic, as if someone was trying to get into the carriage. The wind died down, but still the scratching continued. It was then that Mr. Stern realized that it couldn't be the wind. He urged the horses forward, and they began galloping towards the couple's home. Soon after, the scratching stopped. Eventually, the couple arrived at their home. Mrs. Stern was the first to get out, eager to get inside. As she went around the back of the carriage, something gleamed in the moonlight and she paused. She screamed. The back of the carriage was covered in scratches, but even more startling was the hook gouged into the wood. Mr. Stern rushed over and tried in vain to pull the hook out of the carriage. Instead, he lead his wife into the house, locking the door behind them.""The next morning, Mr. Stern went outside to prep the carriage for their trip into town. The first thing he noticed, however, was that the hook was gone. He would have chalked the entire thing up to his imagination were it not for the scratches that still littered the back of the carriage. Deciding to not worry about it, Mr. and Mrs. Stern travelled into town to sell their wares. They had a fruitful day, and returned home. When Mrs. Stern went into the kitchen to cook dinner, however, she froze at the sight of a statue with a hook hand. Turning back the way she came, she called out to her husband. 'Dear, when did you get this statue? And why did you put it in the kitchen?' Mr. Stern called back to her. 'What statue?' She turned back to the statue, but it was gone. Her husband walked into the kitchen, confusion plain upon his face. 'I don't see a statue...?' His wife turned back to him, eyes wide with fear. 'It was just here, I swear!' Mr. Stern gave the woman a comforting hug. 'Honey, you're just tired and scared after last night. Get some rest, okay?' Mrs. stern reluctantly agreed, and went to bed. She woke up sometime later to a knock at the door. She nudged her husband's sleeping form. 'Dear, can you get that...?' Another knock. 'Dear.' Another knock, and she sighed and sat up. A voice called from outside. 'Honey, I must have locked myself out, because I can't open the door. Can you come down and open it?' Ms. Stern froze. Leaning across the bed, she pulled the covers off the figure beside her. The last thing she ever saw was a hook."Inspired/Adapted/Combined From The Following
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Posted: Sat May 31, 2014 5:23 pm
Alec stared at the blonde boy, withdrawing his index finger and resting instead on his knees having achieved at least sparing Preacher smacking at the drunken man. It was the nickname that rewarded Axel with a half stare, half glare. Now he was joining in the nicknames? Maybe his name would be forever lost, and berried under a sea of nicknames. Not likely, it was an entertaining thought at least. "I have a name both of you, you know." he hissed under his breath playfully. "The bald men will..er leave a lasting impression yea." Alec swore he felt his eye twitch, and muttered as he spoke. His spook from earlier still fresh in his mind. He saw familiar faces depart, and made note to pay Shakuntala a visit soon. He didn't like seeing the girl sad, or retreating in such a manner. For all the mumbled talking he did, the red head actually sat down beside Preacher and Axel, quietly listening to Lenore, Preacher and Sirantha's story. Alec was good listener, it was just how he was.
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Posted: Sat May 31, 2014 5:50 pm
"Why're you-" she stabbed a finger at Axel's unflappable drunkenness. "so ********' drunk anyways? It'll make ya wits duller n' it's not like you kin afford that. Tha only nightmares I'll have'll be about you, ya ********> But the insult was said without real heat. Preacher was too occupied thinking of another story to tell. She wondered what everyone would say if she told them of murders, of child sold on the streets, of stabbing another child because you needed that mark. She rubbed a hand over her face and listened in silence as the others told their stories. Soon it would be her turn...
"Yeah, you got a name n' it's whatever I say it is. 'Sides, what if idiot there tried to hang out with you. Axel, Alec... Alecxel. Ugh." Preacher ruffled Alec's hair, well aware he might not like it.
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Posted: Sun Jun 01, 2014 10:16 am
The story about the evil creature summoned out of a mirror was a little easier to understand than the doll one had been, and just as terrifying. The hook-handed man was a little more up Axel's alley, but he liked both stories. Or at least, he was really ******** creeped out by both stories, which was pretty much the same thing as far as scary stories went. They were only slightly ruined by Preacher's constant nagging. "Oh, shut up. I can dret gunk if I want to. You're not the boss of me. You neither, Curry."
Realizing that he was swiftly approaching the mental level of a three year old, Axel tried to backpedal. "Hurry up and tell your story before those bald dudes get pissed."
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Posted: Sun Jun 01, 2014 1:02 pm
She shot Axel the dirtiest of looks. The man was drunk and annoying - a dangerous combination. So, when she got up to begin her tale, she accidentally kicked him, hard, in the shin. She simpered out a smile and an insincerely mouthed 'sorry' before turning and ignoring him. That d**k. Suddenly, Preacher wondered about well, his, and her eyes darted down Axel's body to - no. She forced herself to walk closer to the bonfire. Preacher sighed and slapped her hands against her thighs, beating off any dust. Her voice was thick and raspy from sickness and smoke. It ghosted out slowly, like a rolling fog, to surround the bonfire and sneak into the ears of the people still left. "Now, this here is Shiganshina, ye ken. But on tha opposite side of tha walls, where many never even get ta visit - is Nedlay. Now I gotta mate from Nedlay n' he told me this tale. He told me a lot o' strange things 'bout that town. Jus' like every other city, it's got its dark secrets." Preacher shrugged. She knew many of Shiganshina''s secrets and so did a lot of the folk here, even if they preferred not to think about it. In the slums here, the monsters were in the form of men, rather than ghosts or ghouls and that was scarier than any tale someone could spin. Preacher blinked and stared into the fire. "There's a shortage of children in Nedlay. Now, I know whacha thinkin', people need ta just get on with makin' more, but no. They put out to tha public that children leave town or get ill n' die. But there's only one real truth: the grey lady. It sounds real innocuous, ya ken? A lady who wears grey... but she's tha Hag. She's older than these walls - some said they thought she were some kinda titan, only smaller and.. older. But it don't change tha fact that iffin you're outside n' tha sun goes down in Nedlay, ya might see her. But then it's too late." Preacher circled the bonfire, talking as she went. "Now, when I say tha kids disappeared... well, part o' em were found. Most of em. The grey lady only takes what she needs. Skin. Every night, she's gotta patch up the holes in her old skin. She's old, ya ken, older than you or me or these walls. Tha Hag can't live like normal people. And that's what she needs tha children for. But lately, I heard tell there simply ain't enough kids for her anymore. That as long as its got skin, don't matter whether it's young or old. Now, I ain't sayin' that she's comin' here, and I ain't sayin' she's taking everyone's skin. But when was tha last time ya saw an old woman ya couldn't quite place or heard footsteps when there weren't anyone around? It's jus' best ta be careful of a night." By now Preacher had circled back to her original place by the fire. And although, she was tempted, she did not kick anyone again. Instead, she faced out over the fire. "There's n' old nursery rhyme ta kids say ta protect themselves. From what I've beena told, it don't work. But mebbe, mebbe ya should remember it when you're walkin' down a dark street n' ya hear footsteps where there shouldn't be any." And she paused for a second. When she opened her mouth again, an old rhyming song came out. Preacher's voice was high and sweet - mimicking a child's. The notes were drawn out until they wavered and fell to eerie silence. "Ah, there's no more life for me-
The old gray lady is after me
She wants my shoes and she wants my skin
There's none so small that she can't fit in."
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