Personification Life IC IX - [Semi Open]

[The BranRiech]

"I'm up for some . . . Ghost Stories."

The male voice speaking from someplace behind the fire spoke up, and a pair of bright orange eyes could be seen glowing in the night behind the fire, illuminated by the light from the flames. Drova was crouched some distance backed, hoping to simply make a few people jump. Yuna heard the voice and nearly screamed, failing to notice her brother hiding in near-plain sight.

"W-what was that?"

Oh wait . . . Dammit! The eyes gave it away totally, and Yuna rolled her eyes of the same color.

[Cerillium]

"Final thing I remember,that stood out in the war besides always following up tanks in the heat of combat to hop into another trench, was another biological weapon, not harmful to humans or other creatures but to crops. Goal of this mission was to block off all trade to the planet and to starve them into submission. Plan worked out well for the most part, til some reverted to cannibalism and boy was things rather creepy from there. In fact, one of them came running at me woopin' and a' hollerin'. I had to cut him down with my collapsible poleaxe."

"And that was most of my time. Being tech priest you see some of the most interesting things on your journey in war. One thing I know is that war has changed from my grandparent's time."

---

Still empty as always, except with a fog and a new tombstone, there was only the sound of the birds and bugs to break what would be an eerie silence.

Wren scooted close to Barox and wheedled her way under his arm. She wrapped him in a hug and pressed her face to his shoulder. Her body warmth and tender effort would probably comfort him far better than thoughtful words or worn out sayings.

"I'm sorry, Barox," she sighed. "I'm sorry you had to go through that, and I'm sorry I can't erase everything from your mind."

Then, because she felt the need to reassure him that she didn't think less of him for his experience, she whispered, "I love you."

---

"I have a shovel," Ceril held the tool aloft. "Unless one of you can think of a better way to bring the casket up? Otherwise, call me Igor. Or Fritz. It depends upon the adaptation."

A wry smile crested his scared face. "I have it on good knowledge that the Emperor was buried according to Gliese tradition. We should get two inches into the dirt before we hit those little packing peanuts. Hans, you want to do the honor of finding them?"

His eyes danced between Chrys and Naomi, silently promising to put them in misery if either said anything to the contrary. As long as Hans believed, it was so. War's cultists were dead useful. He'd swear on his own grave that there was nothing but Styrofoam under the ground if it meant getting out of hard labor.

---

Once upon a time, a very long time ago, Satan lifted his hind leg and pissed out all the depravity in the world. Or was that 'Nesh? Didn't matter. The result of that effort was up the beach from the teens and in full revelry. So Marcus didn't jump when Drova played his prank. He figured any real threat would soon find itself facing a naked and fire-breathing Minerva and a bunch of coke-pumped Lads.

"Hey," his head tipped so he could see Drova better. "Want a marshmallow?"

[Germanic Templars]

"Final thing I remember,that stood out in the war besides always following up tanks in the heat of combat to hop into another trench, was another biological weapon, not harmful to humans or other creatures but to crops. Goal of this mission was to block off all trade to the planet and to starve them into submission. Plan worked out well for the most part, til some reverted to cannibalism and boy was things rather creepy from there. In fact, one of them came running at me woopin' and a' hollerin'. I had to cut him down with my collapsible poleaxe."

"And that was most of my time. Being tech priest you see some of the most interesting things on your journey in war. One thing I know is that war has changed from my grandparent's time."

---

Still empty as always, except with a fog and a new tombstone, there was only the sound of the birds and bugs to break what would be an eerie silence.

Wren scooted close to Barox and wheedled her way under his arm. She wrapped him in a hug and pressed her face to his shoulder. Her body warmth and tender effort would probably comfort him far better than thoughtful words or worn out sayings.

"I'm sorry, Barox," she sighed. "I'm sorry you had to go through that, and I'm sorry I can't erase everything from your mind."

Then, because she felt the need to reassure him that she didn't think less of him for his experience, she whispered, "I love you."

---

"I have a shovel," Ceril held the tool aloft. "Unless one of you can think of a better way to bring the casket up? Otherwise, call me Igor. Or Fritz. It depends upon the adaptation."

A wry smile crested his scared face. "I have it on good knowledge that the Emperor was buried according to Gliese tradition. We should get two inches into the dirt before we hit those little packing peanuts. Hans, you want to do the honor of finding them?"

His eyes danced between Chrys and Naomi, silently promising to put them in misery if either said anything to the contrary. As long as Hans believed, it was so. War's cultists were dead useful. He'd swear on his own grave that there was nothing but Styrofoam under the ground if it meant getting out of hard labor.

He looked at her, smiled as he wrapped her in a hug and said, "I love you too. Now then, why don't we see what everyone else is up to, something to take the mind off what was told."

---

Pointing out Thriller's grave wasn't too hard. It was next to his mother's grave, shining a fancy grey type of marble that was a small obelisk with the quote written on it:

Hickory McCoy

March 30, 1995 - October 25, 2182

A man and a father who selflessly
risked his own life may times so
that humanity and his children may
have a bright future and better chance at it.

[Torsiedelle]

"Yeeee!", Torii jumped a bit. She didn't expect Drova to show up like that! She felt a little stupid after that, but she was good that Yuna's brother had shown up, finally. "Ghost Stories sounds great." , She said slyly. "I know a few, by the way."

She sat up and ran over to between Gio and Marcus, and Yuna and Myra again, a little closer to Yuna and Myra, and leaned in excitedly. "So, who tells the first story? C'mon, this'll be cool! Super cool! I love scary stories."

[Giovenith]

"Hi Drova!" Having a habit of dropping in yourself helped in times like these. "Ghost stories sound like a great idea," Giovenith agreed, pulling her legs underneath herself and folding her hands in her lap.

Just to help clear the air, Giovenith tossed a friendly smile at Torii to assure her there were no overly damaged feelings. She supposed it had only been teasing... it was hard for her to imagine that someone smart like Torii would seriously consider that anyone would sincerely take interest in the local crazy fluff-snow-head. Especially someone like Marcus, who seemed so gotten-together and smart, as opposed to her reality as an eternally bewildering, airy, misplaced thing. One downside of a nighttime fae: people eventually got sick of trying to grip things they couldn't grasp. That was why the fairies of stories stuck to kids. Because grown ups had lost their patience and sought solace in more grounding things. Every dream had an end.

"I don't know many scary ones though," she admitted. "Not off the top of my head. Oh! What about you, Willow?"

"What do you know, I am still alive," yawned the pegasus, who had been silently in tune the whole time. "Same, not off the top of my head."

[Cerillium]

Marcus shrugged. "I know a few. Most are based on real stuff. Then there's a few twisted ones the tech priests tell each year. And the classic one with Scrooge. You go first, Torii."

He settled back against the log and half-closed his eyes.

[The BranRiech]

"Dang." Drova rolled his eyes. Apparently he only scared Torii, and only made a nice entrance into the group of people his own age. He glided across the sand and ended up sitting right next to his dear sister, who promptly poked him too many times and got him to scoot over a few inches.

"We're fine with anything, haven't heard any Human stories ever." The brother shrugged.

The sister nodded.

[Torsiedelle]

A dark, evil grin spread across Torii's face, and she managed a creepy giggle. "As you all wish~"

She ran over to the other side of the fire, alone in the dark, with her guitar in hand, and cleared her throat. A strum of her guitar, and she began, "This is a scary story, said to be true, of a little town in the United States, in Virginia. It's about a scary guy called....the bunnyman...."

She began to strum her guitar in a haunting, wailing tone, yet still quiet and subtle enough to provide a good atmosphere to the story.

"Back in 1903, deep in Clifton, there used to be an asylum buried deep within the wilderness of Clifton. Pretty soon after the civil war people started inhabiting the area, population-wise around 300 or so. It was a very small town. Nonetheless people didn't like the idea of having an asylum miles down the road, so they all got together and signed a petition for the asylum to relocate elsewhere. The petition passed and a new asylum was built, which is now known as "Lorton Prison", a temporary facility for convicts to stay in until they are appropriately sentenced.

In the Autumn of 1904, the convicts were gathered and piled into the bus which was to transport them to Lorton. Somewhere during the drive not too far from where they left, the driver had swerved to avoid something and the bus had started to tip, and soon was rolling in a terrible collision course.

Most of the convicts were injured but had managed to escape the bus and had fled into the night, towards the woods. The next morning a local police investigation had begun, and they had begun rounding up the escaped convicts. Hours turned into days, days into weeks, weeks into months. Everyone was recovered after four months, except for two people, Marcus A. Wallster and Douglas J. Grifon. During the search for both men the police randomly found dead rabbits half eaten and dismembered every now and then along their search.

Finally they were to find Marcus dead by the Fairfax station Bridge (now known as Bunny Man's Bridge). In his hand he held a man-made hammer/knife like tool, made with a sharp rock and a pretty sturdy branch as a handle. They thought nothing of it, and didn't care how he died, only that he was apprehended and they no longer had to worry about him.

They had a name for Marcus, but later on they would realize they had named the wrong person the Bunny Man.

Still searching for Douglas, they kept on finding dead half-eaten rabbits every so often while the search went on. Eventually, they were to name Douglas the Bunny Man from then on.

Months passed by and the police gave up their search. Everybody assumed the Bunny Man was dead by now, if not gone, so they went on with their small town lives. Come October, people started seeing dead bunnies reappearing out of the blue, and starting to fear the unseen.

Halloween Night came around, and as usual, a bunch of kids had gone over to the Bridge that night to drink and do whatever kids their age in the 1900s did. Midnight came around within minutes and most of the kids had left, only three of them remained at the bridge.

Exactly at midnight, a bright light came from the bridge, right where the kids were. A few seconds later, they were all dead. Throats slashed with that same type of tool that was found next to the other escapee, Marcus. Not only were their throats slashed, but they were cut up and down their chests; gutted like fish. The Bunny Man then hung both of the boys from one end of a bridge with rope around their necks, hanging from the overpass with their legs dangling in view of any passing cars.

The girl was hung the same way, on the other side of the bridge. This happened on Halloween in 1905. After that, they didn't see or hear anything from him for another year.

Halloween 1906 was approaching and parents as well as the teens in Clifton still remember the incident that had occurred one year ago at the bridge, his bridge, Bunny Man's Bridge.

That night seven teens were left remaining right before midnight at the bridge. Thinking little of it, six remained inside the bridge while one, Adrian Hatala had remained a good distance from the bridge hoping to have enough time to escape if the same thing happened again. She was the only one to witness this, a dim light walking the railroad track just before midnight, stopping right above the bridge at midnight, then disappearing at the same time that a bright flash was inside the bridge. She heard the deafening sounds of terrified screaming coming from inside the bridge that lasted only seconds. Moments later, they were all hung from the edge of the bridge, in the same way as the corpses a year earlier.

Horrified, she ran home, and refused to tell all of what she saw, just spattered words mixed with incoherent mumblings that the people of her town had to put together to come up with her story. No one understood it or believed her. They charged her with the teen's murders, and locked her up in the Asylum of Lorton. In 1913 the same thing happened with nine teenagers this time, Halloween night again.

Adrian was still locked up. They dropped her sentence, but it was too late. The insanity had finally conquered her. Even if she was released, she was too far gone to have a life, so she spent her remaining years in the asylum until she finally died in 1953 of reported shock.

No one knows what exactly she died of shock from, but supposedly she had died in her sleep, dreaming of that one dreaded night. Perhaps the Bunny Man had finally gotten to her.

More murders were to take place however, although after the murders in 1913 most people stayed clear of the bridge on Halloween.

1943 rolls around and six teenagers go strolling out on Halloween night. A couple hours later, all of them dead, same way as all the others. Investigations took place, but as usual nothing was discovered.

1976 the same situation occurs, this time with only three people.

The only other incident that occurred since then was in 1987, twelve years ago. Janet Charletier was enjoying the night with her four friends. Halloween night had finally come, and they had gone driving out to enjoy the night after invading the children's candy bags. They had settled around 11 at the bridge, waiting for midnight to come. They didn't believe in the myth so they decided to see it for themselves, and were to be the only ones who actually withstood the Bunny Man. They had waited around 55 minutes or so, so it was nearly midnight, when Janet started getting a little scared. They all had been pulling pranks on each other, (jumping out the bushes and screaming), so she was already a little worked up. Midnight hits, and by this stage she is completely freaked out. She's almost out of the bridge when the lights get really bright inside. When that happens, her body is halfway outside of the bridge. She sees her skin start tearing at her chest but nothing is piercing her skin. She manages finally to leave the bridge. Completely horrified she hits a hanging body and knocks herself out. When she awakes she discovers that she has been bleeding. She was lucky that the cut had just started, and wasn't very bad at all. She left and never returned to the bridge again.

She has been seen sitting on a swinging bench on her balcony every morning just staring in the direction towards the bridge a couple of miles down. From then on the story remains untouched, and unmoved.... "

Her guitar stopped, and she set it down across her lap to watch the other kids.

[Fvaarniimar]

Nick, waking up from a long catnap in one of the huts, yawned and stretched. After licking himself clean, catching and eating an intrepid squirrel, and wondering why, despite the dropping temperatures and the breeze, he felt warm, he cautiously exited and headed for the beach. Careful to avoid the water- as mentioned he hated getting wet- Nick headed for a group of conversing creatures.

[Cerillium]

He looked at her, smiled as he wrapped her in a hug and said, "I love you too. Now then, why don't we see what everyone else is up to, something to take the mind off what was told."

---

Pointing out Thriller's grave wasn't too hard. It was next to his mother's grave, shining a fancy grey type of marble that was a small obelisk with the quote written on it:

Hickory McCoy

March 30, 1995 - October 25, 2182

A man and a father who selflessly
risked his own life may times so
that humanity and his children may
have a bright future and better chance at it.

"You know, that's an excellent idea," Wren said. Her voice was a bit muffled from the hug but she was as happy as a lark. "There's a bonfire and a bunch of kids, but it looks like some older people have joined them. Why don't we grab a plate of food and see what they're up to?"

Her eyes caught sight of a familiar face and she giggled. "Besides, we can bug the hell out of my little brother."

---

(ooc: Mother of all collabs. No need to respond here)

[Cerillium]

Marcus wasn't in any mood to have the hell bugged out of him, or anything else bugged out of him, by his sister, Wren. He was busy listening to Torii's ghost story. He nodded when she was done. "Not bad."

The boy plucked up his courage. "Alright, my turn."

He sat up and crossed his legs, then cleared his throat.

"You've all seen them. They lurk in the shadows and call to you from the drains. The cultists. Not all are sociable. Some are criminally insane. They're the Metzger, foul Nazi experiments gone awry, and even Old Will and Hans get nervous if someone mentions them. Butchers. Butchers housing the foulest of War's Daemons; they killed Jews and Polish and gays by the thousands, sometimes tearing their victim's throats out with bare hands and teeth, and laughing while they were doing it. They run like rats along the roofs and walls and are so patient that they'll lie in wait for weeks just watching and listening and plotting."

He cast his eyes towards the cultist bonfire up the beach and then lowered his voice until it was barely heard over the fire. "Not everyone knows the secrets in Bielefeld, but the Brothers at the Observatory sometimes dwell on it. If you ask, they tell you to hush. They were there when Bielefeld was built by the Nifid. And they'll tell you that a lot of it isn't natural. Especially Brumpty Woods. That's by Raptor Lake.

"After the Drones attacked, and while we were all gone, Otto Von Klaus brought in Metzger because they were insane enough to walk amongst the Nifid. Every night the Brothers counted their heads, and every night the count was good although sometimes the normal cultists went missing. Everything was going smoothly until right before the citizens were allowed to return. It was the week prior, and on the night the Nifid left. One of the Metzger went missing. Old Klaus, he was upset. He doesn't like to lose track of his Daemons. They searched high and low for that missing Metzger, and when they couldn't sense his spiritual energy, Minerva decided that one of the Nifid constructs had eaten him. Time passed but Klaus never stopped looking for him.

"I don't know if you guys remember them, but there were some residents that lived in the Building forever. Their names were Dab and Tony. Wild guys. That funny shack behind the Building belonged to Tony, by the way. One night last summer, Dab and Tony left out the Building to go up to Raptor Lake where Tony had buried some explosives. They got into Dab's old car and drove all the way out there. Well, it was during that really bad storm we had. Remember it? It poured buckets of rain and some people swore that weird shit was happening all over the Building, like walls writing passages on themselves, or eggs tumbling into vents. That stuff was kinda cool, but Dab and Tony were out in the middle of the storm. They were all the way out by Brumpty Woods.

"They must have slid off the wet highway, because the car ended up going right down a small embankment. It skidded and slid and then hit a murky patch. Dab cracked his head against the dash pretty bad, but Tony was alright. He told Dab to chill in the car while he got out to see how bad the damage to the car was. Dab saw his blurry figure in the headlight, walking around the front of the car. A moment later, Tony jumped in beside him, soaking wet.

"“The car’s not badly damaged, but we’re wheel-deep in mud,” Tony said. “I’m going to have to go for help.”

"Dab swallowed nervously. There would be no quick rescue here. Tony told him to turn off the headlights and lock the doors until he returned.

"Brumpty Woods. Although Tony hadn’t said the name aloud, they both knew what he had been thinking when he told Dab to lock the car. This was the place where the missing Metzger had once taken an axe and hacked another cultist to death for the fuck of it.

"Well, Dab sat there for a while and then, outside the car, he heard a shriek, a loud thump, and a strange gurgling noise. But he couldn’t see anything in the darkness. Frightened, he shrank down into his seat. He sat in silence for a while, and then he noticed another sound.

"Bump. Bump. Bump.

"It was a soft sound, like something being blown by the wind.

"Suddenly, the car was illuminated by a bright light. An official sounding voice told Dab to get out of the car. Tony must have found a police officer or one of Minerva's Lads, and that was a total relief. Dab unlocked the door and stepped out of the car. As his eyes adjusted to the bright light, he saw it.

"Hanging by his feet from the tree next to the car was the dead body of Tony. His bloody throat had been cut so deeply that he was nearly decapitated. The wind swung his corpse back and forth so that it thumped against the tree. Bump. Bump. Bump.

"Dab screamed and ran toward the voice and the light, hoping the officer would help him. As he drew close, he realized the light was not coming from a flashlight. Standing there was the glowing figure of a man in a Nazi uniform with a smile on his face and a large, solid, and definitely real axe in his hands. Dab backed away from the glowing figure until he bumped into the car. He jumped inside and locked the doors.

"“Playing with bombs are we?” the Metzger whispered. He emerged from the shadow under the dashboard, stroking the sharp blade of the axe with his fingers. “You’ve been very naughty, Dabfia.”

"The last thing Dab saw was the glint of the axe blade in the eerie, incandescent light."

Marcus looked at the ceremonial fire in the distance. "They're all pooled over there, getting wasted on Chaos energy. You saw all those cultists come out of the fire and shadows earlier. They just walked away without a word. They were drawn there. All of Chaos on Earth and in this dimension is there. But there's one who won't go inside that dome. The Metzger. He doesn't want to get caught. Do you know what that means?"

The boy leaned forward even more and looked each teen in the eyes, and then into the adults' eyes. He licked his lips. "It means he's out here..... with us. He's hiding in the shadows."

[Germanic Templars]

He looked at her, smiled as he wrapped her in a hug and said, "I love you too. Now then, why don't we see what everyone else is up to, something to take the mind off what was told."

---

Pointing out Thriller's grave wasn't too hard. It was next to his mother's grave, shining a fancy grey type of marble that was a small obelisk with the quote written on it:

Hickory McCoy

March 30, 1995 - October 25, 2182

A man and a father who selflessly
risked his own life may times so
that humanity and his children may
have a bright future and better chance at it.

"You know, that's an excellent idea," Wren said. Her voice was a bit muffled from the hug but she was as happy as a lark. "There's a bonfire and a bunch of kids, but it looks like some older people have joined them. Why don't we grab a plate of food and see what they're up to?"

Her eyes caught sight of a familiar face and she giggled. "Besides, we can bug the hell out of my little brother."

---

(ooc: Mother of all collabs. No need to respond here)

"You know, I like your idea, every part of it. Lets do it." Barox remarked as he let go of her from his tight hug.

[The BranRiech]

If anything was freaking scary to the Pyersai siblings, it wasn't stories of ghosts or silly stories. It was the stories they'd heard that could actually be real, and being unfamiliar with the classic way to end a scary story (Tell your victims that the evil monster was with you all along!), were genuinely concerned now, and were busy looking off into the nighttime, hoping to catch a glimpse.

"That's not true." Yuna frowned, crossing her arms and making a "Hmpph" sound.

Drova shrugged, and fidgeted a bit, grabbing a Marshmallow out from the nearby bag.

[Giovenith]

"Hmm," Giovenith mulled over the stories, having stayed silent throughout both of them. "Like Easter..."

Torii's tale actually reminded her of the Easter Killer case that she remembered Jerid working on, though much more dramatized. When she'd said Marcus' name Giovenith had thought it'd be one of those stories where the teller used the name of her friends, but was relieved this was not the case. It was intriguing, and made her give considerable pause.

"Must've been Angel..." Giovenith heard Willow remark quietly to Sterling after the Bunnyman story, followed by a snort. Well she did not know who Angel was, so no reason to get on it.

Marcus' story gave her some worry.

"But of course they," referring to the other cultist and pantheon members, "Would't let him hurt us, right?"

[Cerillium]

"Hmm," Giovenith mulled over the stories, having stayed silent throughout both of them. "Like Easter..."

Torii's tale actually reminded her of the Easter Killer case that she remembered Jerid working on, though much more dramatized. When she'd said Marcus' name Giovenith had thought it'd be one of those stories where the teller used the name of her friends, but was relieved this was not the case. It was intriguing, and made her give considerable pause.

"Must've been Angel..." Giovenith heard Willow remark quietly to Sterling after the Bunnyman story, followed by a snort. Well she did not know who Angel was, so no reason to get on it.

Marcus' story gave her some worry.

"But of course they," referring to the other cultist and pantheon members, "Would't let him hurt us, right?"

The boy shrugged. "Who knows? It's sort of like having a dog to guard the hen house. If the dog's inside eating his dinner, he won't even know the fox is at the gate." He winked at her though, tipping his hat in a sense to include her in on his fun.

He'd made the whole murder up of course. Dab and Tony were most likely back in Dab's country. There really were Metzger, but they were kept under lock and key and never allowed out of their nasty dimension; these test subjects were possessed by Atosh's Daemons but they had been homicidal maniacs long before they became possessed. He knew that both Minerva and Klaus had spent half the war working on opposites sides as they slaughtered the Daemons to protect humanity. It just had too many real elements to pass up. He thought it was the perfect way to keep his friends on edge all night.

"What isn't true?" he asked Yuna. She was wearing a cultist uniform so he imagined she knew more about them than the others. But they were Minerva's lot and he was pretty certain that faction hadn't imparted any information about the other. "You're a cultist of sorts. You've probably traveled through shadows."

[The BranRiech]

"The story . . ." Yuna groaned. She really had no other reasoning other than "It was scary as all hell", but the only thing she seemed able to do at the moment was to deny it. "Well, I guess I have? I don't really know." She responded to the next thing Marcus had said. Now of course, both siblings were starting to feel left out, and because their user is and always will be unable to type anything remotely scary, it'd more than likely stay that way for a long while.

"I haven't traveled by myself yet though, don't know if I ever will." The sister said.

--

Bran contemplated the offer for a few moments and nodded. "I felt so bad going last time, crap. I almost felt like leaving a few times. I'll go with you." He nodded. His last experience in Urran wasn't the best one, with Yuri blowing up at him for wearing a Branriech uniform to Yoshi's memorial service, and almost getting eaten by a monster from a childish dare.

"Yeah, I want to go when the air's not as heavy as it was the last time. The war's been over for a while I guess."

[Cerillium]

"You know, I like your idea, every part of it. Lets do it." Barox remarked as he let go of her from his tight hug.

The food was still laid out although most of the really good stuff had been cleaned out by everyone else. There was still plenty to enjoy however. Wren fixed a plate of fruit and a slice of ham and added some table crackers and a bit of apple stuffing. She also fixed several plates for those at the compound and carefully covered them with spare tin foil. She waited for Barox to gather his meal and then they returned to the fire to feast.

Ghost stories. Fun.

She caught Marcus' story but she said nothing until he was done. Then she cleared her throat and forced her face into a more believable expression.

"There isn't any way to stop them from coming through shadows," her tone marked her as a bit more expert at cultist lore than her brother, "but you can ward them away with Huhnerarschlocher. Klaus' men won't come near you if you possess one. They're pretty simple to fashion, especially since most of the ingredients are here on the island. Special leaves, and pure sand, and vines we can use to form a twine so they can be hung around our necks. Plus, we don't have to worry about drawing down the magic to enchant them because the magic's already drawn thanks to their ceremony. We just need to make them and set them on the beach to absorb it. Then we're safe."

[Giovenith]

"Oh, I'm sure you will someday," Giovenith reassured Yuna, reaching out a hand comfortingly, though she was too far off to actually touch her friend. "You're good at so many things, so they have to let you do something like it eventually."

Even with Marcus' silent reassurance, Giovenith turned over the question of protection in her head. The godling wasn't stupid, she was perfectly aware of just how scary (to understate it) Chaos could be, but they had done more for her and everyone else than most of them could probably ever repay. She felt love toward many of them, no less than any of her friends and family, and she did not believe they would ever willingly harm her. Still, it was a bit like adoring a pet big cat: You loved it, it loved you, but you never really forgot it could rip you to shreds anytime it wanted, no matter how many snuggles were exchanged.

"Hm? Oh hello Miss Wren!" Giovenith had only now just noticed Mister Ceril's daughter along with a friend, quickly changing her thinking expression to a sunshine, smiley, happy one. "Nice to see you here!"

[Torsiedelle]

"ooooh, that sounds cool.", Torii said excitedly. She enjoyed the story about the Metzger, and thought that maybe making a ward would be fun. That pretty woman was Marcus's sister? That was cool, though she was older than the other kids around the fire.

"I still have one or two creepy tales in my memory, but yea...that sounds cool. So, who else wants to do it?"

[Giovenith]

A grey hoof flew up in the air.

"Can I try?" asked Willow, standing up and stretching out a bit. "It probably won't be as good."

[The BranRiech]

"I have only been training for a few days." Yuna joked, grinning at Giovenith's support of her endeavor to succeed for her mentor, Will. The young Pyersai simply felt privelaged to wear the uniform, so understandably, anything above that would simply be awesome! (Or so Yuna dearly hoped)

Drova, on the other hand, was listening to Wren explain the wards that they could make, and wondered why they'd need them.

"I'm up to the task." He said, pledging his support in the little adventure they were beginning to set for themselves.

[Torsiedelle]

A grey hoof flew up in the air.

"Can I try?" asked Willow, standing up and stretching out a bit. "It probably won't be as good."

"Try what?", Torii asked, "A story, or a ward, or both? I'm up for both, still."

She laid back in the sand to stare at the stars, like her friends had earlier. To Torii, the skies had a different meaning, but she still enjoyed them equally. Maybe she could tell a story pertaining to the skies? She knew one or two.

[Giovenith]

A grey hoof flew up in the air.

"Can I try?" asked Willow, standing up and stretching out a bit. "It probably won't be as good."

"Try what?", Torii asked, "A story, or a ward, or both? I'm up for both, still."

She laid back in the sand to stare at the stars, like her friends had earlier. To Torii, the skies had a different meaning, but she still enjoyed them equally. Maybe she could tell a story pertaining to the skies? She knew one or two.

"A scary story," Willow sucked in his lips, thinking this should have been obvious. "I don't indulge much in horror, but I remembered something a colt told me once at Flight Camp. It was popular around the campfires at the time."

Barely related at all, but with Willow talking again, Giovenith suddenly came to horrified question of whether or not the marshmallows contained gelatin, i.e., hooves. She subtly scooted the bag back over to Marcus, attempting to obscure it from the ponies' view, just in case.

[Germanic Templars]

"You know, I like your idea, every part of it. Lets do it." Barox remarked as he let go of her from his tight hug.

The food was still laid out although most of the really good stuff had been cleaned out by everyone else. There was still plenty to enjoy however. Wren fixed a plate of fruit and a slice of ham and added some table crackers and a bit of apple stuffing. She also fixed several plates for those at the compound and carefully covered them with spare tin foil. She waited for Barox to gather his meal and then they returned to the fire to feast.

Ghost stories. Fun.

She caught Marcus' story but she said nothing until he was done. Then she cleared her throat and forced her face into a more believable expression.

"There isn't any way to stop them from coming through shadows," her tone marked her as a bit more expert at cultist lore than her brother, "but you can ward them away with Huhnerarschlocher. Klaus' men won't come near you if you possess one. They're pretty simple to fashion, especially since most of the ingredients are here on the island. Special leaves, and pure sand, and vines we can use to form a twine so they can be hung around our necks. Plus, we don't have to worry about drawing down the magic to enchant them because the magic's already drawn thanks to their ceremony. We just need to make them and set them on the beach to absorb it. Then we're safe."

Barox stood next to her and listened intently to it. Nodding and admiring her knowledge on something he knew nothing about, even if he didn't believe in such things like that.

[Cerillium]

Javert had a whirlwind journey that began when he placed a foot on the Building's first step. His world had lurched and, for a moment, the 4' deep snowdrifts lining the sidewalk had seemed to rise even higher before an odd sleep blanketed the P.I.'s thoughts. His last scrap of vision had been the moonless night sky above Bielefeld, and the stars peppering it.

Starlight was all that illuminated the fern grotto where the man now lay prone on the ground. The Milky Way's beautify was more intensive on an island so far away from civilization and light pollution. Warm, tropical air filled his nostrils. A fat jungle beetle momentarily alighted on his forehead and then took flight again. He was in a jungle yet the ocean roared nearby. Youthful voices greeted his years.

The bonfire wasn't too far away. The light cast strange glow on the plant fronds blocking his view. A group of teenagers was huddled there, laughing and sharing ghost stories as they roasted marshmallows on sticks. A few adults were gathered around. The oddity of the mix was that everyone clearly wasn't human. There were talking ponies and two dark blue-skinned creatures with feathery wings. A female anthropomorphic rabbit seemed to be chatting with an anthropomorphic fox. There were three cyborgs. A cat was perched nearby.

A man coughed behind Javert. He was dressed in a WWII Nazi uniform but the armband and lapels reflected a strange device rather than a swastika. "I'm Rudolf," he whispered and remained squatting in the shadows. "The landlord, O.C. Demens, wrote home to say you were on the way. Building's closed. Fumigation. You have an all-expenses-paid vacation, my friend. Enjoy it. You've just missed the typhoon. Oh, and don't worry about your lease. We'll get your paperwork done when everyone returns. A lot of the residents are by that fire."

He doffed his officer's cap and then inexplicably dropped right through the sandy ground, vanishing from view and leaving no trace of himself. Javert was left alone to choose between lurking in the shadows or joining the rest.