==Author: Anonymous (Pending Voting)==

==Legend: The Burrower Beneath==

This legend tells the tale of the Burrower Beneath, a sinuous and silent predator which lies below the surface of all things. It takes great vigilance and awareness to spot the tell-tale signs of its presence, as it is a voracious, merciless assassin of great stealth and guile.

Many of its victims are completely unaware of its proximity beneath their very feet until it is too late and their entire lower body is already enveloped in its voracious maw, paralyzed by the secreted poison in the creature's saliva, and agonizingly dissolving in the acidic bile which it then proceeds to vomit over that which is being ingested and digested alive.

A slight sloughing sound and a vague fleeting sense of imbalance are all that might warn the alerted pedestrian to use that jetpack immediately, or be dragged down to a slow and excruciating death in the undulating belly of the great worm...

The Brood Mother

2025-10-31T20:46:11Z

Argus: Created page with "==Author: Anonymous (Pending Voting)== ==Legend: The Brood Mother== They say she only comes for the forgetful, those who speak too loud in the fog, or break the stillness of the swamp at dusk. Don’t talk in the swamp. That’s the first lesson. The second? If you see eight blue-slitted eyes blink in the mist, you’re already hers. The Elgan of Biloxan call her The Brood Mother, and they do not curse her. They offer fish and fruit, and speak in hushes when the..."

==Author: Anonymous (Pending Voting)==

==Legend: The Brood Mother==

They say she only comes for the forgetful, those who speak too loud in the fog, or break the stillness of the swamp at dusk.

Don’t talk in the swamp. That’s the first lesson.

The second? If you see eight blue-slitted eyes blink in the mist, you’re already hers.

The Elgan of Biloxan call her The Brood Mother, and they do not curse her. They offer fish and fruit, and speak in hushes when the water is still.

She is not a beast, they say. She is punishment that walks. They say she is not hunting, she is listening.

Blue eyes flicker from the trees. Then silence. Then the sting. You won't remember the pain, not at first. Just heat. Something moving, just under your skin. They say that’s her children waking inside you.

A gift of life. A lesson in death.

They say you’ll walk a while before you feel them, the little mouths beneath your ribs, gnawing.

Some don’t scream. They just… kneel.

That’s how you know the eggs have taken root.

As they consume you, your eyes will be open. Your stomach swollen and split. Your body hollowed in overwhelming agony.

The last thing they eat is your voice.

2024-08-26T23:43:09Z

Argus:

Scare The Storytellers

2024-08-26T23:41:20Z

Argus:

Scare The Storytellers

2024-08-26T23:15:25Z

Argus:

The Akkinova

2024-08-26T23:07:37Z

Argus: Created page with "=Author: Shardclaw = =The Creature:= The Akkinova possess three large limbs around their torso, each a mix between bat wings and clawed hands. On one end of their body are th..."

=Author: Shardclaw =

=The Creature:=
The Akkinova possess three large limbs around their torso, each a mix between bat wings and clawed hands. On one end of their body are three tails that are each ended in a foot long harpoon, sharp and powerful enough to pierce spaceship hulls and rend flesh. They do not possess a head, but instead many tentacles come from where one might expect a head to be, surrounding a maw of endless teeth. Their bodies are as black as space, though thousands of “eyes” that glow like distant stars cover their skin, appearing like the void itself until it is too late.

=The Tale:=
The tales of the Akkinova began alongside the development of Ry’nari space travel. Ships would take off, heading to distant worlds, vanishing only to appear months later, mostly intact, with the entire crew killed. No technology had been detected, and no space creature could be identified to the crime.

Determined to figure out what was happening, the Ry’nari created one of the most powerful warships at the time, sending it out to hunt down whatever this thing was. Onboard were legendary hunters from various tribes, and the best pilots on Hororeon.

Searching for months, nothing was found. Things seemed to have gone quiet, but until this thing was identified, the warship was to stay out and hunt it down. Weeks later, the ship returned home, though in a much worse state.

As the crew searched the endless void, checking scanners and monitoring their radar, one of the Ry’nari happened to look into space, feeling something was wrong. Something seemed to be watching him, and he felt uncomfortable for hours. However, thinking himself paranoid, he didn’t say anything.

Suddenly, through the hull of the ship came long lashing limbs, piercing through the reinforced metal. The spikes speared through the crewmates, killing them on the spot. One of the Ry’nari managed to survive the attack, hurrying to the bridge. As he arrived and began to punch in coordinates for the autopilot, he realized that there was a massive beast staring back at him. Endless eyes stared into his own, and he could tell it wanted him dead.

The autopilot saved him that day, the skipdrive managing to free the warship from the grip of the creature. Returning to Hororeon, many were terrified to find that only a singular mad Ry’nari was left aboard. Although he repeated his tale over and over, the ship’s engineers didn’t believe him, pointing out that they had never detected the creature. He died soon after, claiming on his deathbed that the sight of the beast alone had been enough to seal his fate.

As more and more advanced ships came about, tales of this beast have lessened, though the fear still remains. Every few years, the crew of a ship mysteriously dies, or perhaps only one member survives, to tell of the Akkinova that stalks them in the void, unseeable until it is too late…

[[Category:R'ynari]]
[[Category:Culture]]

A Choral Brainjacker

2024-08-26T23:06:55Z

Argus: Created page with "=Author: Ninvahn = =The Creature:= Perceived only by the faint twangs of sound, a choral brainjacker lurks here restlessly. Composed entirely of waves of dissonance, the brai..."

=Author: Ninvahn =

=The Creature:=
Perceived only by the faint twangs of sound, a choral brainjacker lurks here restlessly.
Composed entirely of waves of dissonance, the brainjacker is perceived only by the faint rustlings of sounds as it zips around without a visible form. On occasion, a SONAR may capture the aura of the brainjacker when in modulates into audible ranges. On SONAR it appears like a restless cloud of ever-shifting energy, its form constantly evolving into ambiguous shapes as it violently reacts to any and all sounds in the environment.

=The Tale:=
Nobody knows where the brainjacker came from or why. Yet, it is one of the greatest mysteries in modern Shen history. And possibly its worst unexplained tragedy. Some say it was a research project gone wrong. Others speculate they came from a dimensional rift. Yet others dismiss it as pure conspiracy theory and a construct to eliminate political rivals.

It happened on a luxury ship docked on the Diamond Belt. Complete with an anechoic chamber, ‘The Milford Sounds’ was able to host private concerts for over 500 guests. A up and coming artist, K’reune K’reune was performing for high society Shen from Kovalar aboard the opulent ship as it looked down upon the beautiful waters of the Diamond Belt. All onboard were exclusively Shen as K’reune K’reune exclusively performed for Shen audiences. As the concert began, live reports of a mesmerizing performance erupted from the ship, mainly guests who were raving about the dizzying cacophony of symphony. Sponsorship deals began pouring in and some media insiders claimed that she was ushering in the era of aetherscapes. Then, all went dark. The ship went into blackout. Some thought this was part of K’reune K’reune’s vehement opposition to media and record houses. But when no reports emerged from the ship for over one solar cycle, worried family members and Diamond Belt authorities sent in a patrol vessel to investigate the ship.

Captain Lohrar, a veteran Krona of the Diamond Belt space force had seen his share of parties gone wrong. Most involved a drug fueled fights break out or the occasional gang war related shooting. But those days were mostly behind Diamond Belt. Yet nothing could prepare him for what awaited aboard The Milford Sounds.

Onboard, the entire manifest of guests, crew and service staff stayed motionless. Inside the anechoic chamber, the deck and the service area it was all the same. No one batted even an eyelid and a sepulchral silence was all that remained. On closer examination, all guests were brain dead, even if left breathing.

As families were informed and forensic experts were called to investigate the scene, no signs of forced entry, struggle or discomfort were detected. All members were left physically unharmed yet their brain activity was left scant and their INRs fried completely with no hopes of recovery. As experts looked for more clues, nothing seemed amiss, everyone simply stopped doing whatever they were midway. Some eating, some with an eery glaze of musical bliss and one couple even in the act of coitus, frozen in it midway through the act.

Brain scans, advanced imaging techniques showed that brain activity was completely stopped, the memory cortex particularly lacked all activity. All brain functions outside the basic movement of the heart were completely paralyzed and no amount of medical therapies both tried and tested and novel brought back memories.

As months passed by with little headway in the tradegy aboard The Milford Sounds a Shen sound engineer named Linden Respotin was studying some recordings from the tapes aboard the ship. Black marketeers had procured the original recordings and sold it to curious collectors and private investigators.

By studying differential sound pressures in different parts of the anechoic chamber, Linden was able to detect anomalies in sound pressures which seemingly manifested from nowhere. Intrigued by this discovery, he investigated further and found a correlation between differential sound pressures and when guest brain activity subsided. He concluded that this ‘cloud’ of sound was hijacked people’s brain’s and effectively killed them silently. He dubbed the phenomenon a choral brainjacker.

His theories were dismissed as utter nonsense and prominent scientists publicly discredited him. Some called it a publicity stunt, others a feeble attempt to gain favors from distraught families who were left without their loved ones onboard the ill-fated ship.

Undeterred Linden continued his research and attempted to replicate the sound cloud patterns of the brainjacker. Finding no other subjects, he experimented on himself, mostly only suffering minor discomfort in the process. However, exactly two years after the tragedy aboard The Milford Sound, Linden was found brain dead, in his anechoic chamber. His expression was that of triumph and his last words on a hurriedly scribbled note was IT EXIS ....

'''Aftermath: '''

K’reune K’reune’s performances were outlawed and all digital records were erased wherever found. It is speculated some of the content might bring back the brainjacker. Leadership in Kovalar have mandated strict guidelines on aetherscape performances including restrictions on attendances. Aetherscape popularity has suffered a decline amongst Shen since the tragedy though an alleged coverup of the incidence leaves little in the trace of material on this subject.

[[Category:Shen]]
[[Category:Culture]]

The Abyssinian

2024-08-26T23:06:15Z

Argus: Created page with "=Author: Zarrach = =The Creature:= The Abyssinian takes various forms, but seems to prefer a humanoid shape, albeit one made of obscuring, blurry shadows making it difficult..."

=Author: Zarrach =

=The Creature:=
The Abyssinian takes various forms, but seems to prefer a humanoid shape, albeit one made of obscuring, blurry shadows making it difficult to get a sense of what it truly is. The Abyssinian's eyes are atramentous pools of the void itself held in a bone-white sphere, seeming to draw you in should you stare for too long and it lacks a discernible mouth. When moving it unnervingly does not demonstrate any ambulatory actions like walking or floating, it just seems to exist in one spot at one moment and another the next.

=The Tale:=
What follows is the account of a human spacer, when asked about why he does not sleep much, if at all.

I used to get bad dreams all the time as a kid, everyone gets them. The boogeyman of our childhood usually leaves us once we learn there's scarier things out there in the void, like black holes, taxes, or seven missed messages from your mother. Me? Mine never left me. Not since I accidentally made eye contact with it once as a toddler. I don't sleep much because of it. Sleep is when it can get you. Tell your kids this: Don't look your monsters in the eye.

Consider this a warning.

I’ve seen this thing in the flesh twice in my lifetime. First time was as an infant, barely old enough to form memories. I saw it as a tree grown not of the ground and sunlight but of flesh and darkness. Its boughs scraped the shadows of the ceiling like fingers crawling across a keyboard, pulling it along as it crossed outside my bedroom door. I must’ve said something, or it realised I could see it because it stopped and entered my room, its nightmarish form filling the doorframe and the tentacle-like roots slithering closer to me. My father is who broke me out of this reality I’d accidentally glimpsed, but not before I saw this horror open a gaping maw in the center of its trunk in which I saw nothing but empty void, darker than a black hole and hungrier too.

I had seen it, and it had seen me. I was never to be safe again.

I saw another in my teens, but this time it was humanoid. Lanky, tall. Taller than my door and all I could make out from the darkness was a round face with two eyes darker than the deepest abyss and a rictus of a smile twisting its features as it stared at me. Watching me. It tried to take my eyes, tried to put out the light by which I lived and consume me in that final darkness. I kept it at bay somehow, never once breaking line of sight with it as I lay huddled in my bed.

It haunts my dreams now, tormenting me in my sleep since it couldn’t easily consume me in the waking world. It whispers at me from the dark corners of the material world, a susurrus of oblivion and shadows from which I will never escape from. It robs me of fitful sleep, weakening me as a hunter would weaken troublesome prey. Eventually I will be unable to fight it off, I will be too weary to mount anything resembling a defense and it will put my lights out, and bring me into the void between Here and There.

I stared into the Abyss, and the Abyssinian stared back.

[[Category:Human]]
[[Category:Culture]]

Scare The Storytellers

2024-08-26T23:05:30Z

Argus: Created page with "In October of 2020, the Starmourn team launched what they hope will be the first in a yearly tradition of Halloween writing contests. The goal of this contest is to bring a li..."

The Kershk

2024-08-26T22:59:14Z

Argus: Created page with "=Author: Seth= =The Creature:= The Kershk, a creature that seeks to undo all memory and reference of the creature that spawned it. =The Tale:= “I was surprised when I lea..."

=Author: Seth=

=The Creature:=
The Kershk, a creature that seeks to undo all memory and reference of the creature that spawned it.

=The Tale:=
“I was surprised when I learned of my older brother’s plan to retire. After his long and successful career as a professional skyblader, we expected <smudge> to continue participating until the sport finally took his life, as it often does.

I believe there is a reason why retirement is so unheard of among Krona, though nowadays most dismiss it as a silly folk tale from the old days. In the darkest and loneliest of nights, when old Krona feel the worry of losing their skills and talents gripping at their heart, they remember tales of the kershk--the whisper. A Krona is not meant for such soft things as retirement, and as their bodies and brains waste away, the deepest part of their psyche fights back. That unique spark of ferocity that propels Krona to greatness refuses to slowly watch its life fade out with a whimper rather than burn out with a bang. This rebellious urge is the kershk.

The first step is ending its host’s life. Unsatisfied, the kershk then seeks to undo all memory and reference of the creature that spawned it. In its anger, it prefers no record whatsoever than any number of accomplishments marred by a slow decline into retirement. It travels among friends and family, assaulting the very memories of every person in the sector, chewing away at any and all reference to its creator. It invades the commsphere, and any recorded information on this unfortunate Krona simply ceases to be.

Nobody has seen the kershk. Few dare even talk about it. But when faded pictures and random gaps in memory are closely inspected, those that remember the old traditions know, in their hearts, that some poor soul has committed a terrible mistake--one that there is no turning back from. For nothing is as precious to a Krona as their legacy.

Surely <smudge> knows what he’s doing, though.”

A handwritten entry in the diary of Tor Kavel, Krona, citizen of Agog
Son of Tion and Kara Kavel
No siblings on record.

[[Category:Krona]]
[[Category:Culture]]

Annavara the Deathless

2024-08-26T22:55:31Z

Argus: Created page with "=Author: Mairon T'rvati= =The Creature= Annavara is a humanoid creature, resembling the charred corpse of a Jin woman, at least while asleep. Once awake, the embers which mak..."

=Author: Mairon T'rvati=

=The Creature=
Annavara is a humanoid creature, resembling the charred corpse of a Jin woman, at least while asleep. Once awake, the embers which make up her body give her prey ample warning, as the smoky stench of burnt flesh announces her approach. But for the oily flames dancing in her eye sockets, she might pass for a survivor of terrible burns.

=The Tale=
Long ago, before our voyage to Starmourn, we would tell the story of the heretic Annavara as a warning. Once known for her vast knowledge of Jin anatomy and star kith, Annavara travelled Ijzala to ease the suffering of the sick and dying, treating all she could, and sending the rest to meet T'rath. After years of dedication, Annavara was renowned for her wisdom, revered as an instrument of T'rath's will, and at least at first, beyond suspicion when the dead began leaving local morgues to return to their former lives.

Naturally, the sudden spate of reanimations led to widespread terror throughout the system, among the living and the dead alike. Had T'rath rejected us? Had an enemy found a way to keep us from passing on? None could say, but all agreed that the situation could not continue, and the reanimated were mercifully granted death once more. Despite the growing panic, Annavara continued her journey, seemingly unfazed by the calamity, and as she travelled, so too did the plague of deathlessness.

While corpses continued to rise where ever she visited, eventually even the most trusting could not shake their suspicions, and Annavara was brought in for questioning. To the surprise of all involved, she admitted to her crimes without being prompted, openly confessing that she had denied her victims a proper death, even "excusing" her actions as being better than passing on to meet T'rath. With a confession on record, a prolonged trial was deemed unnecessary, and the heretic was sentenced to death.

As dusk approached, the heretic was brought forth, and with nobody willing to speak a word in her defense, was sentenced to be death by fire. Annavara's remains were buried anonymously outside the city, with the intent to be forgotten as soon as possible. As we now know, the heretic had other ideas. Before a week had passed, her grave had been disturbed, and only a set of blackened footprints leading out into the wilderness hinted at where the body might have gone. Still hoping to limit talk of the heretic, the Kwajah forbid any reports of the incident. Rumors continued to spread all the same.

Ever since that night, a figure shrouded in smoke has been seen wandering hospitals at dusk. Some terrified patients insist that Annavara has returned. Others claim to hear a raspy, smoke-ruined voice calling them into the morgue. Whatever the truth may be, the terminally ill have begun disappearing from hospitals with only a smoke filled room left behind them. Every night, another set of ash-covered footprints join hers, and another soul is lost to T'rath forever.

[[Category:Jin]]
[[Category:Culture]]

The Shades Of Calisto

2024-08-26T22:54:53Z

Argus:

=Author:Victoria T'rvati=

=The Creature=
Only observed as flickers or tendrils, the shades are thought to be elongated silhouettes that disperse or vanish when directly observed. They are cast from whatever object they are attached to as if there was another, unseen light source.

=The Tale=
The shades of Callisto are an old story passed down by the humans taken from Callisto, detailing what they - or someone they knew - saw during their imprisonment, and how some inmates lost all that made them human. That made them… them. They're the movement in the darkness out of the corner of your eye. The unseen threat, impervious to destruction or exorcism, that stalks you, bringing inevitable doom. Watching. Waiting. Whispers. Wind breaking the silence. Shadows within shadows.

We can't figure what they are. People? Ghosts? Remnants of a dead civilization? Past sins given form, come to collect their due?

All we know is this: it's how they reproduce, and they enjoy it. The taking. Like some twisted kind of sex.

It starts slow; with flickers in your peripheral vision. You'll think nothing of it - at first. Until they start happening more frequently, and the flickers become more solid, crawling across your vision. Little fingers of darkness that vanish the moment you focus on them. You'll see it when you wake up, in that moment between sleep and wakefulness, when you'll question whether or not it was a nightmare. It’ll get closer. And closer. More visible. More pronounced.

Eventually, it’ll take your shadow's place. Others will start to feel uneasy around you like the worst anxiety they've ever felt where just simply breathing is an effort of will because of how tightly their chests are knotted and it doesn't stop until they're rid of you, until you're away.

Food loses its taste. Colors dull. Feeling goes away. Depression like you've never had sets in, but you can't even kill yourself because it won't let you take yourself away from it. You sleep more despite the nightmares, losing more and more of yourself every time you wake up. Until you don't wake up.

It wakes up instead. It stands, and you remain, formless, with a new desperate hunger to take a body again.

And they hitched a ride with the Free Fleet.

[[Category:Human]]
[[Category:Culture]]

2024-08-26T22:37:53Z

Argus: Created page with "==Author: Bugbo== ==The Creature== A being that is truly impossible to know or understand. ==The Tale== The unfathomable is a deity that rules over a universe of infinite h..."

The Suahagan

2024-08-26T22:37:01Z

Argus: Created page with "==Author: Afesotinuilar Matari== ==The Creature== Suahagan are thin, gray-skinned humanoids with small ears, milky eyes, and mouths full of lamprey-like teeth. They are said..."

Stern The Emmaliare

2024-08-26T22:31:25Z

Argus: /* Author: Afesotinuilar Matari */

==Author: Adazay==

==The Source==
Stern Emmaliare is a modern folk-tale told to Nusriza as they approach the Seventeen Mirrors ceremony. Though the specifics vary between retellings, she is said to be some sort of authority figure in life, who was so betrayed by her charges that she became a vengeful kith-spirit who fixates on bad children.

==The Tale==

[This entry is in the form of a clip from a Nusrizan soap opera, perhaps entitled ‘On Wings of Moonlight’]

Moonlight falls upon a serene cloudscape outside Minaccia’s bedroom as the camera draws inwards, following silver shadows across walls covered in band posters, past a desk covered with presents, to view a beautiful young Nusriza sitting cross-legged on her bed. As she taps a message to someone at a frenetic pace despite the late hour, our perspective shifts, and we see a set of sleek hand-mirrors resting upright in a stand, reflecting partial glimpses of her glossy feathers for just a moment until we move past them, shifting until we can peek over her shoulder.

A video plays on the screen - a child, bawling loudly as he struggles to snatch his datapad back from Minaccia whispers; “-little daka, you’re the one who flakking snitched that me and Perez were smoking. She took my pad for a flakking month, so now you lose yours too”. The faint reflection of her face is an expression of amusement.

Another message pops up; “But Mina please, let’s talk. You don’t have to do this”. In another mirror across the room, we see her face reflected again, impatient and dismissive. She shoots off a response; “You didn’t even join a combat squad. You’re pathetic. We’re done Patrucho”.

In the quiet of the night, one sound rings clear; the spine-tingling sound of talons on glass. She freezes, looking around for the source of the noise, bringing our perspective with her as she turns this way and that, seeing her own cautious face reflected in seventeen mirrors.

It is not alone.

Slowly and steadily, a frost-blackened hand reaches out -inside- the mirrors, tapping on the glass as if Minaccia was trapped inside an aquarium. Each of the hand-mirrors rattles and shifts in their stands as the hand tap-tap-tap-taps and then retreats into the reflected shadows. As the next mirror begins to tap-tap-tap, she stammers “W-who’s there?” but as if in response, the tapping simply becomes more urgent, the glass flexing as pressure is applied more firmly by something trying to get out… or to get in.

Breathing fast, Minaccia drops her datapad and tries to make a run for the door, but stumbles as she locks eyes with a gangrenous-looking Nusriza behind the glass of a standing mirror, dressed in the austere, anachronistic uniform of a military college headmistress. As they lock eyes, the woman continues to tap on the glass with a talon until finally, a crack forms – it is small at first, but quickly grows as a patina of frost creeps outwards even as air begins to be sucked in as if the crack were a faulty seam in an airlock.

[End of clip]

Shadows Of The Undercity

2024-08-26T22:27:10Z

Argus: Created page with "==Author: Akiko== ==The Creature== The shadows which abound in the Litharge Undercity. ==The Tale== Zylas muses about shadows in the neon-lit gloom of the Undercity: It i..."

==Author: Akiko==

==The Creature==
The shadows which abound in the Litharge Undercity.

==The Tale==

Zylas muses about shadows in the neon-lit gloom of the Undercity:

It isn't often that stories like this end with 'and our heroes all survived,' but if it helps, they were all in therapy for quite a while afterwards. A while ago, when the Blood Ark was still settling into Scatterhome, a handful of not-quite-gangers-per-se idiots with spaceships (we're all familiar with the sort) took it upon themselves to look into some disappearances along the remote Corsairs' trade route. It was probably pirates, they all assumed it was pirates, and along the way they hailed a little just-set-up colony who told them that it was, in fact, pirates, and invited them down to throw some money around on drinks and fuel. Strangest thing, though - their transfer shuttle had barely touched down when one of their number went flat blind.

Nothing happened to his eyes, zero physiological or chemical changes, no detected kith phenomena, just... blind. They were partway to the colony's infirmary when one of his friends leaned in to quietly ask:

"Hey."

"Hey what is it that you blue guys see with that weird forehead eye again?"

And then they started shooting, which saved their lives and the lives of a lot of other people going forward. The sheer number of corpses in the colony's chapel basement was so shocking it dominated the news cycle for half an entire day.

This may be the most extreme example, but it's something that preys on our minds a lot, when we're with you weirdos who can't see the darkness of transcendence.

Jin don't jump at shadows.

Jin just worry over which shadows are the ones only they can see.