Teeny Tiny Tales of Terror: Catching Up
Dream Vestige
DREAM VESTIGE
By all evidence the man is an outlander and was skilled in the art. But something robbed him of his wits and drove him deep into madness. Doctor I., in whom I have considerable confidence, all but confessed that there is no prospect of recovery, at least not by his methods. The fellow is obsessed with a whisperer in the night. He describes it, in effect, as twenty thousand murmuring nightmares fused by torment and hunger into a malignant will. The entity struck with unerring tendrils of mists at him and his companions, its touch overwhelming them with mind-numbing visions, until they at last were claimed bodily by it. To escape this fate, whether in life or in death, the man shattered a staff of the greatest power. But he is quite sure that he has not escaped it, that it has his scent, that it has followed him to this world, that we are all doomed.
-Correspondence of Eleni of Toyalis to Lord Hazlik, intercepted by Barovian agents
PS I have edited some of my entries in this and other threads. Would a doc file containing all the descriptions be helpful?
By all evidence the man is an outlander and was skilled in the art. But something robbed him of his wits and drove him deep into madness. Doctor I., in whom I have considerable confidence, all but confessed that there is no prospect of recovery, at least not by his methods. The fellow is obsessed with a whisperer in the night. He describes it, in effect, as twenty thousand murmuring nightmares fused by torment and hunger into a malignant will. The entity struck with unerring tendrils of mists at him and his companions, its touch overwhelming them with mind-numbing visions, until they at last were claimed bodily by it. To escape this fate, whether in life or in death, the man shattered a staff of the greatest power. But he is quite sure that he has not escaped it, that it has his scent, that it has followed him to this world, that we are all doomed.
-Correspondence of Eleni of Toyalis to Lord Hazlik, intercepted by Barovian agents
PS I have edited some of my entries in this and other threads. Would a doc file containing all the descriptions be helpful?
The cure for what ails you
Evolved undead
EVOLVED UNDEAD
The documented tales changed little in well over a century. The innocent, the guilty, the foolhardy would find themselves at the door of Mill Manor, cross the threshold of the strangely resilient structure, and enter the great hall with its immense chandelier. They would discover little of the disorder that is to be expected in a place so long abandoned. Few of them would spot the subtle signs of the bloody violence that has so deeply stained the place. And almost none would escape a taste, at the very least, of the fury that is congealed there. Without warning and with terrible accuracy, a blade would draw itself from concealment, take aim at tender flesh, and hurl itself forth. Then another. And another. Individuals who stood their ground and fought died. Whereas those who fled typically survived to recount their tale. But something has changed in the last decade or two. For the innocent no longer escape Mill Manor and the less than innocent speak now not only of honed blades but also of a blackness, sticky and stinking, that more than one described as reminiscent of a grave overladen with rotting flowers.
-Unpublished note of Doctor Rudolf Van Ritchen
The documented tales changed little in well over a century. The innocent, the guilty, the foolhardy would find themselves at the door of Mill Manor, cross the threshold of the strangely resilient structure, and enter the great hall with its immense chandelier. They would discover little of the disorder that is to be expected in a place so long abandoned. Few of them would spot the subtle signs of the bloody violence that has so deeply stained the place. And almost none would escape a taste, at the very least, of the fury that is congealed there. Without warning and with terrible accuracy, a blade would draw itself from concealment, take aim at tender flesh, and hurl itself forth. Then another. And another. Individuals who stood their ground and fought died. Whereas those who fled typically survived to recount their tale. But something has changed in the last decade or two. For the innocent no longer escape Mill Manor and the less than innocent speak now not only of honed blades but also of a blackness, sticky and stinking, that more than one described as reminiscent of a grave overladen with rotting flowers.
-Unpublished note of Doctor Rudolf Van Ritchen
The cure for what ails you
Fetch, Dread
FETCH, DREAD
Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Who's the fairest of them all?
Confess, confess, it is I
My reflection could not lie.
-A vain, foolish girl visiting Carnival
Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Who's the fairest of them all?
Confess, confess, it is I
My reflection could not lie.
-A vain, foolish girl visiting Carnival
The cure for what ails you