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Scare the Storyteller (view source)

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(Created page with "ENTRIES 2023 Adazay - Nusriza - Stern Emmaliare Stern Emmaliare is a modern folk-tale told to Nusriza as they approach the Seventeen Mirrors ceremony. Though the specifics v...")
 
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ENTRIES 2023
ENTRIES 2023
Picram - Decheeran - The Lys
1. Picram
2. The Lys, the much less popular counterpart of the Tal
3. The Lys is, in a sense, the opposite of the Tal. It is said to make Decheerans leave their groves, often causing as much suffering as possible in the process, to pull them towards the dark side of Atria, where their bodies and their sanity will wither under the perpetual darkness.
4. Most Decheerans know of the Tal, the force that allows them to bond and form groves. However, just like any other force in the universe has an equal counterpart, the opposite force of the Tal is the Lys, a force that breaks down groves and social structures by subtly altering the mind of an affected Decheeran, causing them to sow strife wherever they go, first subtly, then more and more pronounced, until they eventually leave society and move towards the dark side of Atria, where they will feel inexorably drawn towards. While brief excursions into the perpetual darkness cause a Decheeran to feel something between light discomfort and elevated levels of distress, those getting lost there will eventually wither in both body and mind. Should they not have severed their connection to their grove, the extremely unpleasant sensation of withering will be inflicted upon their grove mates, either driving them into madness or forcing them to sever their connection, eventually breaking up the grove. According to some mostly forgotten tales, the naxel are either the descendants of Decheerans lost on the dark side of Atria, or in some versions even the very same.
Much like the Decheerans chose to revere the idea of the Tal, they chose to collectively avoid exposure to the idea of the Lys, both physically by staying away from the dark side of Atria, and mentally by refusing to discuss it until it mostly faded from knowledge, for the ancients feared that merely knowing of the Lys could expose one to it's detrimental effects. While the ancient Decheerans were apparently successful back in the day, it remains to be seen if truly every item depicting or discussing the Lys was destroyed, or if some unlucky excavation team might find what was intentionally lost for ages, and irrevocably upload their find to the commsphere...
Poet - Jin - Arrick the Everdying
Who you play/what your character name is. Poet
A name for your horror Arrick the Everdying
A description of your horror A Jin in a very small box
A brief backstory to explain why this is scary to your character's race. (No more than 500 words)
Still stuck on the “what scares a race that worships death?” thing. So have a Cask of Amontillado-esqe horror.
“So my children, you have heard the story of the Engineer. Squelching his way through the Ark. Years and years, and yet he continues. Some of him.” The old storyteller looks around at his young audience. “Have you though, heard the tale of Arrick the Everdying?”
“No? Well. Let me see. Where to start?”
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. Flacking coffin. If I can hear it I must be awake. Again. I struggle to find mental focus and open my eyes. They are sticky from being closed for so long. I feel along the seat next to my right hand and count the pin pricks in the plastic. …thirty-eight, thirty-nine… I reach the end and then I poke one needle sharp claw into the seat. Forty. This is the fortieth time this damn thing has awakened me. Forty thousand years since I was abandoned by the Ark. What must I have done? I’m sure I should remember. I blink slowly and look out the porthole in front of me. The view hasn’t changed much. A star directly before me, about which I must be orbiting. Much too far for warmth, but just enough photons to tickle the panels, charge the systems, and keep this coffin running for another thousand years. Right on time. The system perks up. A voice in my ear. “Have you atoned?” “Atoned? I don’t even know what I’ve done!” “No then,” it continues. “Sleep. Dream. Find atonement if you can.” “I will awaken you in another thousand years.”
“No! Wait!” My voice echoes off the bulkheads and my ears ring, used to the long silence the same way my eyes are used to the long dark. “What did I do?” There is no reply. I SHOULD KNOW what I’ve done. Shouldn’t I? My breath catches slightly as the chill enters my veins once again. Chemicals dragging me back down to sleep even as the coffin chills. Preserving me for another long sleep. My eyes close once more and my thoughts slow. So slow. So hard to think. What did you do Arrick? Can you remember? If you do remember, will this thing let you die?
“He knows.” The storyteller says. “He KNOWS what he did.” “I’m sure in the long dark between stars he’ll find atonement.” “But he won’t achieve death.” His voice chills. “Death is too good for him.”
“Run along now. I’ll take your parents’ complaints tomorrow.”


Adazay - Nusriza - Stern Emmaliare
Adazay - Nusriza - Stern Emmaliare
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In essence it is feared by the Jin because it cannot be fought, and dying to it is not a worthy death.
In essence it is feared by the Jin because it cannot be fought, and dying to it is not a worthy death.
Poet - Jin - Arrick the Everdying
Who you play/what your character name is. Poet
A name for your horror Arrick the Everdying
A description of your horror A Jin in a very small box
A brief backstory to explain why this is scary to your character's race. (No more than 500 words)
Still stuck on the “what scares a race that worships death?” thing. So have a Cask of Amontillado-esqe horror.
“So my children, you have heard the story of the Engineer. Squelching his way through the Ark. Years and years, and yet he continues. Some of him.” The old storyteller looks around at his young audience. “Have you though, heard the tale of Arrick the Everdying?”
“No? Well. Let me see. Where to start?”
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. Flacking coffin. If I can hear it I must be awake. Again. I struggle to find mental focus and open my eyes. They are sticky from being closed for so long. I feel along the seat next to my right hand and count the pin pricks in the plastic. …thirty-eight, thirty-nine… I reach the end and then I poke one needle sharp claw into the seat. Forty. This is the fortieth time this damn thing has awakened me. Forty thousand years since I was abandoned by the Ark. What must I have done? I’m sure I should remember. I blink slowly and look out the porthole in front of me. The view hasn’t changed much. A star directly before me, about which I must be orbiting. Much too far for warmth, but just enough photons to tickle the panels, charge the systems, and keep this coffin running for another thousand years. Right on time. The system perks up. A voice in my ear. “Have you atoned?” “Atoned? I don’t even know what I’ve done!” “No then,” it continues. “Sleep. Dream. Find atonement if you can.” “I will awaken you in another thousand years.”
“No! Wait!” My voice echoes off the bulkheads and my ears ring, used to the long silence the same way my eyes are used to the long dark. “What did I do?” There is no reply. I SHOULD KNOW what I’ve done. Shouldn’t I? My breath catches slightly as the chill enters my veins once again. Chemicals dragging me back down to sleep even as the coffin chills. Preserving me for another long sleep. My eyes close once more and my thoughts slow. So slow. So hard to think. What did you do Arrick? Can you remember? If you do remember, will this thing let you die?
“He knows.” The storyteller says. “He KNOWS what he did.” “I’m sure in the long dark between stars he’ll find atonement.” “But he won’t achieve death.” His voice chills. “Death is too good for him.”
“Run along now. I’ll take your parents’ complaints tomorrow.”
Picram - Decheeran - The Lys
1. Picram
2. The Lys, the much less popular counterpart of the Tal
3. The Lys is, in a sense, the opposite of the Tal. It is said to make Decheerans leave their groves, often causing as much suffering as possible in the process, to pull them towards the dark side of Atria, where their bodies and their sanity will wither under the perpetual darkness.
4. Most Decheerans know of the Tal, the force that allows them to bond and form groves. However, just like any other force in the universe has an equal counterpart, the opposite force of the Tal is the Lys, a force that breaks down groves and social structures by subtly altering the mind of an affected Decheeran, causing them to sow strife wherever they go, first subtly, then more and more pronounced, until they eventually leave society and move towards the dark side of Atria, where they will feel inexorably drawn towards. While brief excursions into the perpetual darkness cause a Decheeran to feel something between light discomfort and elevated levels of distress, those getting lost there will eventually wither in both body and mind. Should they not have severed their connection to their grove, the extremely unpleasant sensation of withering will be inflicted upon their grove mates, either driving them into madness or forcing them to sever their connection, eventually breaking up the grove. According to some mostly forgotten tales, the naxel are either the descendants of Decheerans lost on the dark side of Atria, or in some versions even the very same.
Much like the Decheerans chose to revere the idea of the Tal, they chose to collectively avoid exposure to the idea of the Lys, both physically by staying away from the dark side of Atria, and mentally by refusing to discuss it until it mostly faded from knowledge, for the ancients feared that merely knowing of the Lys could expose one to it's detrimental effects. While the ancient Decheerans were apparently successful back in the day, it remains to be seen if truly every item depicting or discussing the Lys was destroyed, or if some unlucky excavation team might find what was intentionally lost for ages, and irrevocably upload their find to the commsphere...
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