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Incidents of Unknown

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A little collection I'm going to be starting up of stories and things relating to a mysterious figure that many argue a woman, a monster.. or neither. These posts will vary in length from short stories, to small conversations to the topic at hand. Because who doesn't love a good story to scare the wees ones to go to sleep..?
P R O L O G U E:
In a tavern, three men are gathered around a table; their drinks between them as they speak in hushed voices, of a rumor...

“They say a creature lurks in these woods, takes your children and your wives, those weak and unable to defend for themselves and drags them off to feast on them, not their bones remaining when finished.”

-
A Monster? You’ve gone mad, the drink has gone to your head. There’s no monster in those woods, its a girl you see. Just a girl, but she’s a strange looking one she is, long white hair an’ eyes that don’t see nothing, purest an’ milky white they are. Jus’ a blind little girl. Callin’ what you don’t understand, a monster.”


-
“Monster perhaps, but you both got the importance of it wrong, clean out your ears and listen to me. There is no white haired milky eyed maiden in those woods, an’ there ain't no creature that takes your children and your wives - but there is a monster. Malformed and twisted, its got claws of black as long as your short sword, matted black hair and insects spewing from its mouth. It doesn't look like anything female, nor male, just a gnarled humanoid monstrosity and its eyes, Divines have mercy on ye’ if you stare into its eyes..”


Cause you’ll never be coming home again if you do..

They call this beast, Hielik.

"Welcome my friend, sit down. I have a story to tell you about a woman who rose from the embers of nothing and created something beautiful."
-
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Posted Mar 4, 18 · OP · Last edited May 14, 18
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I.
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In a small farming village, off the shores near Wayrest..


"Are you a boy? Or are you a girl?"

The softened voice of a curious child filled the ears of the other hunched over figure, a child whose nails were digging deep into the soil of the chilled damp earth, getting dirt under fingernails, but they weren't bothered by this action, searching for something. Moisture seeping into the soil and making it easier to dig through from the previous rainfall the night before. "What kind of question is that?" They'd respond, straightening their back and milky white eyes looked to the other. "Why does it matter, why do you care?" The hunched child's form, though slightly straightened was still gnarled in a way, their head tilted to the side, most features tucked away behind a ragged hood made of cheap cloth of the cloak they wore over their body.

The first, the one that originally asked the question would make a noise before they spoke their response, "Well, they say you've got a pretty face and hair, like a girl. But the rest of you is ugly and isn't pretty, you are playing in mud, and you wear ratty clothing like a b--" A filth-ridden hand came to snap out at the other child, gripping their arm. "Boys can be pretty too.." They interrupted, before letting go of the arm, a moment of fear struck into the other surprised child. "Boys can't be pretty, we're supposed to be tough! Like our fathers, we go off to war and the pretty ones stay home. So.. are you a boy, or are you a girl. Maybe you're just a freak.."

Silence fell over the two children, words hanging in the air before the sickly child reached up, pulling down their hood. Everything about them seemed to blend together. Their hair, almost as white as the snow and reaching almost to lower back, milky orbs that had stared at the other previously and their skin - as pale as porcelain. Despite the discoloration of their eyes, the child could see perfectly fine and their skin, often mistaken for a vampire was quickly reversed, the child was simply unwell, and had been for quite some time - thus, it had become part of their nature. They took in a deep breath and their clothing clung to them, ribs exposed under cloth. "Leave me alone, no more questions.." They spoke more firmly, their voice at a higher volume was hard to determine, it was still a child's voice, but it held an eerie silkiness to it that was neither feminine nor masculine in its delivery of tone.

"That's it isn't it, you're just a freak. You're all sickly and ugly, its no surprise none of us want to play with you. You're not tough and you're not pretty either - You're just an ugly freak.." The other child sneered, exposing the gap between their teeth before they spat at the ground in front of the pale child. There was a stillness, no response as the almost albino child leaned down to pick up a rock, holding it in their hand. "You're wrong.. They croaked. "I'm pretty, no matter what.. They rolled the rock in their hand, gripping onto it. "I'm pretty!" With a cry out, the child's hand suddenly lashed in a downwards motion, the rock colliding with the head of the other, knocking them down. They followed the other to the ground and thus, in the fields, distance away from their homes, sobbing drifted. The cries of a child in agony go unnoticed, followed by the sounds of colliding rock to skull over... and over.. again. Over and over they repeat,

"I'm prettyI'm prettyI'm pretty!"


That was the first of the rumored mysterious murders of the farm and village children, over time more would disappear, some found others were never recovered. Yet no one questioned why the deformed and ill child was left unarmed during all these incidents, after all..

Isn't it the weak ones they go after first?

"Welcome my friend, sit down. I have a story to tell you about a woman who rose from the embers of nothing and created something beautiful."
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Posted Mar 12, 18 · OP · Last edited May 14, 18
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So the tales continue..

It began with the children, gutted and left for dead in the woods. The ones that were retrieved at least, if they were lucky they had just enough time to say goodbye to their loved ones, before they bled out completely.

Next, livestock were targeted - torn open. Blood, sinew and organs strewn across the grass. An odd pattern as it is often the supply of farmers and beloved pets that are struck by monsters that lingered in the forest. Wolves, Bears, Coyotes and other creatures that preyed on those helpless beneath them, in worse cases, truly monsters that were once man. But never was the sickly child met with such a fate, gnarled and deformed as always their weakness never caused them to face the same fate as the others.So people began to question and grew suspicious, paranoia. Why their children and not them? Why their prized cattle and not the milky eyed disgrace. Not many people even know where the child came from, how long they had lived in that village but they always appeared alone.

Gossip traveled often about them;

Boy or girl?
Where were their parents?

Were they the cause of the curse on their village, a bad omen sent by the Divines themselves, or had a Daedric Prince brought a plague upon their lands of grotesque and defiled filth of creatures left behind.

No matter the phrases or words shared, the village whispered amongst themselves, striking fears into each other’s hearts but they neglected the signs as death continued to follow each whisper and their paranoia only got worse, pressure was rising until their was a dead silence amongst the villagers

That is when they began to turn on each other.

Thus death continued..
The child remained unharmed even still.


"Welcome my friend, sit down. I have a story to tell you about a woman who rose from the embers of nothing and created something beautiful."
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Posted Mar 20, 18 · OP · Last edited May 14, 18
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Wonderfully disturbing.
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Posted Mar 20, 18
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“They don’t understand, it is me they blame for their selfishness, its always been that way..”

The voice of a young adult speaks up, before they tear into the white meat that was a mess between their fingertips, tearing at it like a savage. Their nails were caked with dirt underneath, white locks matted and tangled their voice was grating, like nails on a chalkboard, but yet.. Pleasant to listen to.

The recipient of these words was a hermit, whose clothes were nothing but tatters that clung to their boney figure. “You did kill them child..” His voice rumbled past the thick grey beard that masked their mouth and dangled nearly past chest. “That little boy was only the beginning, were they not? Sensitive you were when they questioned you..”

“He deserved it, and I have no regrets..” The youthful one turned their head, milky hues peering at the elder. “He deserved it.. They all did, and they will continue to suffer like pigs to the slaughter, how am I to be blamed for that when it is their own fault..?” They spoke up more, flesh of food stuck between teeth and sputtered out across the mossy ground as they conversed. Their cheekbones were prominent paired with a strong jawline. Their flesh that of ivory, this teen was once the sickly child that continued to thrive, still wiry and hunched they had escaped the fate of what befell their village, and continued to thrive while others hadn’t. It was a mystery that continued to remain unsolved to many how it was that they survived, but handfuls of children, fine breeds of cattle and livestock had suffered like a plague had befallen them, how a sickly creature had beaten the odds. Nameless was the child for a long period of time, until taken in by another outcast, the Hermit to which now shared their hutt. Hielik. That was the name the child was given and thus it had stuck.

“You’re almost old enough to fend for yourself, I have taught you all that I know, what a strong young ma--” A pale hand shot up to silence the Elder, and their head shook. “No..” A single word was spoken, the Elder taken aback by this, but not surprised cleared his throat, wiping remains of his own meal from his beard before continuing, “You are becoming strong...” He corrected himself. “Stronger..” He altered his words. “But, as I said.. The limits of my teaching are coming to an end, and soon you must find your own following.”

The albino skinned youth does not speak, listening before they took another bite and stared out the window.

“Yes.. I think you’re right, but I don’t think they are prepared, not for myself nor what is to come..”

When the next morning came, three more had perished. Before one died they spoke of a siren’s song that called to them, and a pale hand extending from the brush, beckoning them forward, entranced by the voice’s beauty they never thought to question the blood on their hands…

Then the void consumed them.



"Welcome my friend, sit down. I have a story to tell you about a woman who rose from the embers of nothing and created something beautiful."
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Posted Mar 21, 18 · OP · Last edited Jul 11, 18
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IV.
S a n g u i s

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The Hermit was dead. Hung by the paranoia of the village, that cursed him for their undoings, for housing a Demon. The child no longer did not mourn the Hermit’s death, they knew it would come eventually. Whether by the conditions as the seasons changed, or for the simple fact he’d be killed.

Those that were considered outsiders never had the much luck, they knew that first hand. Now, so did the Hermit. They had witnessed his final breath, watched from the shadows as they beat him with farming tool, until his face was no longer recognizable, eyes popping like grapes and blood enriching the soil.

Though they did not mourn him, they would miss them all the same. But the Hermit had told them, their teachings were coming to an end, they didn’t believe it would be with the death of their teacher. Not surprising. Given the situation at hand provided to them. So, they did not mourn.

They pondered their thoughts, crouched down and a finger poking at the bloated corpse of a hare, the skin crawled under the touch and their lips twitched with a smile, until two firm hands gripped them around the shoulders and suddenly jerked them to the ground, and everything went black when the head of a tool came crashing down towards their features.

They awoke some time later, sitting at the bottom of a pit, it smelt of rotting flesh and with a turn of their head, they got the obvious answer as to what made that stench, the corpse of the Hermit was nearby, as well as the remains of others. Too poor or perhaps too lazy to dig proper graves, those recently killed had been tossed into one large gaping hole, but there was one still alive, and with a groan they sat up, a cry out in pain as they looked to their broken arm, twisted and gnarled, They peered upwards again, before they suddenly began to crawl, pulling themselves up by their still useable hand, kicking at the soil to elevate themselves, bit by bit they escalated upwards, the Albino huffed and felt exhaustion overcome them, head pounding and vision blurred, but still they crawled as a cloaked figure peered over the edge and from under their cloak a corpse-like hand reached, maggots dropping from rotting flesh as rats scurried from the inner workings. Reaching out to the one crawling upwards, and they felt their energy anew..

Those nearby screamed for help as a bloody hand shot upwards towards the dawn sky, and a figure of disfigured features stared at them, and began to crawl towards them next, fueled by a mysterious new energy.

They made the mistake of meeting their eyes...

"Welcome my friend, sit down. I have a story to tell you about a woman who rose from the embers of nothing and created something beautiful."
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Posted Jul 10, 18 · OP · Last edited Jul 11, 18
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C o m i n g X S o o n

"Welcome my friend, sit down. I have a story to tell you about a woman who rose from the embers of nothing and created something beautiful."
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Posted Jul 11, 18 · OP · Last edited Jul 11, 18
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