Solo The Hunger of Mama Jook

Do you want a candy?

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The Diamond of Kalea is located on Kalea's extreme west coast and called as such because its completely made of a crystalline substance called Skyglass. Home of the Alvina of the Stars, cultural mecca of knowledge seekers, and rife with Ethaefal, this remote city shimmers with its own unique light.

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The Hunger of Mama Jook

Postby Madeira Craven on November 1st, 2019, 1:44 am

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40th of Fall, 519


"What scares you most, out of anything in the world?"

It was getting late. Leth could be seen just crawling over the mountains. His silvery light spilled through the bedroom window, illuminating the thin film of dust that covered the small bed and muted the bright painted colours of the chest of
drawers. Madeira was kneeling on the floor, sacrificing her skirts to the dust, as she carefully set up a handful of toy blocks end to end. A familiar chill was rising from the floor, making goosflesh ripple at the back of her neck. In the darkest corner a ghastly shape flickered as it answered.

"I dunno..."

"Could it be... spiders? Snakes? The dark?"

"No! I'm not a baby."

The Spiritist set a blue block neatly atop a red block, building higher and higher. She could hear movement below as a couple paced and wept and waited anxiously for news. The light flickered as an owl swooped silently from the eaves to catch something on the lawn below, And in that second of darkness the figure could be seen crouched in the corner, its outline as sketchy and faded as an old charcoal drawing. But then the owl passed and it was gone, swallowed by the light.

"Can I tell you what I'm scared of?" Madeira posed to the darkness where it used to be. The flickering silhouette nodded. "I'm scared that when my children die, I won't have time to say goodbye, or say one last time much I love them."

Stony silence. Below the window something died with a squeak and a hush of disturbed feathers.

"Oh no!" Madeira purposefully tapped one of the lower blocks, and her whole tower came tumbling down. She frowned down on the destruction before her before looking into the corner. "Can you help me? I can't get my tower to stay up."

After a moment of hesitation a figure peeled itself out of the corner and shuffled shyly into the silvery light. It was a skinny, sickly boy, his mouth cracked and dry, his skin pale, his shirt dappled with vomit. His two front teeth were missing, and his tongue was poking nervously at the crack. His tongue, Madeira was baffled to see, was green. He knelt in front of her but couldn't quite look her in the eye.

"You gotta put the big ones on the bottom. It helps it stay up better."

"Thanks", Madeira smiled, sliding a big yellow block between them. "Like this?"

The boy nodded, and the two continued to build together. Madeira took opportunities to get him to make decisions and ask questions about how to build, until the boy began to raise his shy eyes and talk more animatedly. Soon they had a big, sturdy tower between them, and Madeira felt confident to try and steer the conversation back.

"You know, I think your mama and papa have the same fear as me. Most parents do. Why won't you go talk to them?"

"I can't. They'll be mad at me."

"Mad that you got sick? A lot of kids are getting sick around these parts. It's not your fault."

A green tongue snaked from between his lips, wetting the cracked skin.

"No, I lost my birthday present. My mom knit me a bunny, and I lost it. She's always mad when I lose things."

"I'm sure she won't be mad if you talk to her. They really miss you. And I think you miss them too."

The boy shook his head, his hair flopping around his eyes and his lip pushed out dangerously. Madeira had seen the same expression enough in both Emma and Amelie to know exactly what it meant. She smiled lopsidedly.

"Are you lying, Cole? You didn't lose it, did you?"

There was a moment of pouty silence while he picked at his lip. "I'm too old for bunnies."

"I'm sure you are, but you feel guilty, right? So what happened to it?"

The boy wavered indecisively, his smokey form flicking in and out of focus. After a long chime he pointed into the dark space beneath his bed. Madeira glanced at him before shuffling over and reaching beneath. Cobwebs and spiders shrank back from her magical gloves, and after a moment of groping she pulled out a paper sack tied with a bright blue ribbon. Inside was an assortment of half eaten sweets; marshmallows and caramels and glossy lollipops. After a few forgotten weeks the candy had developed an oily sheen, and under the sweet nostalgic fragrance there was some overripe, gummy smell to it that made her wrinkle her nose.

"Ah, you traded your bunny for this candy?"

The boy nodded once, hard, and tears welled in his eyes.

"Hey, it's okay. If it will make you feel better, we'll go get it back. Then will you talk to your parents?"

Another nod. He scrubbed his eyes with the heels of his hand. "I didn't mean to. You won't tell mom will you?"

"Of course not. Who did you trade the bunny to? I'll bring it back and we can keep it just between us, okay?"

"I gave it to Mama Jook, for the candy. She trades toys for candy. Everyone knows that."

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The Hunger of Mama Jook

Postby Madeira Craven on November 1st, 2019, 1:46 am

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Madeira descended the stairs from the upper floor, beating the dust out of her skirt, to find Cole's parents waiting for her at the foot.
It was heartbreaking, watching as this husband and wife scarcely older than herself and Alister put on a brave face for the sake of the stranger in their home. On the floor above them the whisper quiet presence of the ghost seemed to reach down and lay heavy across their shoulders, the grief physically pulling them to the earth that housed the body of their child. It had been a long time since Madeira had seen the brutal reality of her chosen profession.

When they saw she was alone the spark of hope in their swollen eyes guttered and died.

"These things can take some time", Madeira reassured as she met them on their level. "This is a scary, confusing process for him, and it's clear he's unaware of what this is doing to you. Cole does want to see you, but he has asked that I see someone called Mama Jook before he comes down. Do you know who that is?"

The wife sniffed hard, pushing her bangs away from her swollen eyes. "Mrs.Jook? She's this old housebound lady on the edge of the neighbourhood, in the old brick cottage with blue shutters. You don't ever see her around. Why does Cole want you to talk to her?"

"He gave her something that he wants back. Sounds like there's at least a couple kids who have visited her place."

"That doesn't sound right. Nobody is letting their kids roam around these days. Are you sure-"

"He won't come down, not right now. But I'm going to find this lady tonight, sort all this out, and be back before it gets too dark. I
promise. You should think about what you want to say to him."

The couple nodded tearfully and stood aside to let her pass. In the sitting room Cole's grandmother was staring into the hearth, her grief leaving her completely empty. But his aunt stood as Madeira reattached her small bracer crossbow from where she left it by the
door. It wasn't safe for magic users to walk around unarmed anymore.

"Professor, thank you... I know this isn't..."

Madeira smiled reassuringly for the woman as she tied the cloak in a neat bow across her collar. "Miss Biset. No training anybody can have would prepare them for having to exorcize their own family. You were right to ask me. I would do this for any of my students. Take care of your sister, okay? I'll be back shortly."

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The Hunger of Mama Jook

Postby Madeira Craven on November 1st, 2019, 1:58 am

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Stars began blinking down from the darkening sky as Madeira followedthe path to the edge of the Okomo estates. Her boots raised little puffs of dirt as she went, to join the dust stain on her skirts. The air was dry and thin this high in the mountain, where the unforgiving summer was bleeding straight into an unforgiving Fall, but her steps were light and her mood bright. It was rare that a haunting could be solved so easily. She would be home before midnight rest at this rate.

Night sounds filled the air. Crickets and swooping bats and the lonely howl of far off wolves. More than one doorway was draped with black, and behind them the silence of grief was louder than all of it. Madeira whispered her prayers as she passed, wishing the children and their families peace in this life and the next. Cats and owls watched her with glowing yellow eyes.

Mama Jook's house was set apart from the rest, fronted with the brown, nodding heads of dead roses. In the gathering dark the house still gleamed a pearly white, the blue of its shutters crack but bright. The garden gate was propped open, and Madeira let herself inside. She hoped the old lady was still awake.

But the moment she set foot on the cobbled path that trivial little concern blew from her mind like dandelion fluff, and her stomach
dropped. That chill from Cole's room returned, snaking back across the ridge of her spine and burning coldly in the palm of her left hand. The roses whispered with the dry rasping of their stalks as she passed, walking not running. For this feeling flares up only when it's too late. She knew, with a certainty that went bone deep, that poor Mama Jook was dead.

She reached the door and tried the brass handle, and was surprise when it swung open with a creak. The sliver of darkness behind it grew like an open mouth, and the cottage sighed as the wind stirred up behind her. A kitchen hearth set with a thickly bubbling cauldron smouldered in the corner, gilding the small cottage with a ruddy orange glow. Every window was shuttered tight, and Madeira was forced to squint as her eyes adjusted.

"Mama Jook?" She called, though she knew there would be no answer. A neatly made bed with a bright patchwork quilt was pushed against the wall, against the other was a surprisingly elaborate kitchen with counters, cabinets, a wood burning stove and enormous pots. A table in the middle of the room was draped with checkered tablecloth, and on every wall was a set of shelves clustered with shadowy shapes she couldn't see. The whole cottage smelt of chocolate and toffee.

Madeira pushed back her sleeve and woke her crossbow with a shake. The weapon went up in flames with a greedy womph, withering her arm away into a blackened claw and adding its sickly green light to the glow of the smouldering hearth.

Madeira toured the room, shoving her burning arm into every corner, getting more and more anxious as she went, fully expecting to see the old lady slumped at the table or limp in her bed. Her burning hand flexed beneath her glove as the inescapable sense of death that permeated the house washed over her and through her.

Lifting her arm high she saw the shelves that ringed the room were clustered with knick knacks and toys; tops and marbles and jacks, wooden animals and straw men. A hundred different little toys, some fresh, some worn, but all gleaming and dust free. One in particular caught her eye- a blue knit bunny with floppy ears and friendly beaded eyes. Madeira picked it from the shelf and stuck it in her pocket as she turned on the spot, taking one last look at the one room and coming to the baffling conclusion that there was nobody, dead or alive, with her.

This was good news, but at the same time a prickle of unease worked up her spine. She had never known her senses to be wrong.

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The Hunger of Mama Jook

Postby Madeira Craven on November 1st, 2019, 2:00 am

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"Come on, Madeira, you're out of it", she slapped colour back into her cheek with her not-burning hand. Maybe there had been a massacre on these floorboards long ago, and she was just getting the blowback. Maybe an old tenant had buried a body in that garden. Maybe some haunted bloke went insane and killed themselves from those rafters. These things had a tendency to linger. It could be anything.

Her hand flexed, the illusioned skin crackling like tinder, and in the flickering light the shadows seemed to shivered closer.

Madeira found herself moving quieter as she looped back around to the kitchen, as if the house was a sleeping thing she dared not disturb. Leaning over the small caldron, she saw a it was full of bubbling molten sugar, dyed a pretty pastel pink. There looked to be something hard and black at the bottom though. She hoped it wasn't the sugar burning. On the scrubbed countertops was a tray of lemon drops set out to cool, and half formed sticks of rock candy immersed in sugar water. There was a tray of brittle studded with peanuts beside a set of chocolate moulds shaped like stars.

She began opening cabinets one at a time, as quietly as she could. Every single one was filled with sweets. Honey sticks, maple pops, bags of sugar, slabs of chocolate. After a while her searching became more frantic as her unease grew. Something was wrong.

Again Madeira raised her hand higher and turned in place, her neck prickling. Everything was so pretty and perfect. Nothing was wrong. But some dark space in the back of her head was whispering darker thoughts. This was too pretty, too perfect. With the cloud of death hanging over this place she knew in her bones something was very, very wrong.

She looked back at the neatly made bed, the busy kitchen, the toys on the walls, and had the sudden, vertigo inducing thought. This felt like a dollhouse. A diorama of a life. There was a shelf full of children's toys carefully set and left like trophies, pretty pastel
sheets nobody had laid on, and an entire kitchen full of food and not a single thing to eat. Where was the bread, the tea? Where was the laundry and the scribbled notes? Where was the messy little bits of life that makes a home inhabited?

Night had snuck up from behind the shuttered blinds. Leth peeked through the cracks from where he hung heavy and whole in the dark, spying on Madeira has she got to her knees and began riffling through the lowest cupboards with frantic hands. She wasn't even sure what she was looking for, she had long given up on the thought of finding Mama Jook chopped up and stowed away, but she had to look regardless.

And she did, finding nothing but candy, until the sweetness in the air began to turn. The air seemed to thicken in her flared nostrils as she moved down. In some imperceivable middle ground the smell moved from the toffee-sweetness of candy to the heavy, thick sweetness of decay. The two smells rolled together, swinging like a pendulum between nostalgia and revulsion until she felt almost seasick, until her stomach seemed to be swinging in its own greasy hammock.

That was until she reached an almost empty cupboard, and her stomach at once dropped to the floor and tried to crawl from her throat. The smell here was an almost physical thing; a wet, clotted mass that stuck in her throat. The cupboard contained nothing but pretty, shallow little china bowls, and in each was a lumpy bit of cheesecloth tied tight with string. Each sat in half an inch of a thick, syrupy liquid ranging in colour from a tainted yellow to a viscous black. Mouth dry, Madeira reached her burning arm into the cupboard, reaching for the nearest bag with a clawed, blackened hand.

And then it moved.

The bag slithered, something inside slipping over itself, moving away from the light.

Madeira fell backwards with a strangled choking sound, the cupboard falling close with a thump. The smell was in her nose, in her lungs, suddenly alive and crawling like maggots. Her crossbow sputtered green sparks and died as she scrubbed her skin and beat her skirt neurotically, her mouth clamped tight over the pathetic whimpering sounds of her breath.

The candy. The candy. What was she doing to the candy?! She thought of Cole's flickering form, that bag of candy and it's weird, greasy sheen, and that nervous tongue poking at his teeth. It was green. Stained like her own kid's tongues after gorging themselves sick at festivals. Sick. Cole was sick. Kids are getting sick.

I gave it to Mama Jook, for the candy, the memory replayed in her head, with a clarity she didn't have at the time. She trades toys for candy. Everyone knows that.

Madeira looked up, at the rows of toys set neatly on the shelves, all pretty and perfect and gleaming. Like trophies.

Through the fog in her head Madeira heard the garden gate close with a snick. The dead roses rustled their warning as something disturbed them in their passing. Madeira's palm prickled painfully. Mama Jook was home.

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The Hunger of Mama Jook

Postby Madeira Craven on November 3rd, 2019, 1:45 am

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Fight or flight? Madeira made a wild snap decision and still on her hands and knees crawled to the bed and shoved herself into the dark space beneath. Her skirt had barely whipped out of sight before the door was palmed open, and something a little less than human stepped inside. Mama Jook was carrying a lamp that bathed her and her home in horrific clarity. She wore a pretty butter yellow sweater over a blue dress dotted with daisies. But there was something horribly sunken about the body beneath that she couldn't quite cover up. The fingers that held the lamp were long and brittle, the dry, grey skin stretched tight over the sharp bones. The hooked nose over thin lips and receded gums made her look like some stringy, starved rat. Her eyes pushed protuberant from her sunken face, and her brittle grey hair was roped into a matronly bun.

She paused at the threshold, her red rimmed eyes casting suspiciously about. From her vantage point Madeira could see her narrow nostrils flare, and was it her imagination, or did her eyes linger over the empty space where that blue bunny used to be? Madeira shoved her fist in her mouth before her whimpering breaths could betray her. She knew what this monster was. She'd seen its kind before. It still looked human, like a sickly old woman, but Madeira could feel the gnosis on it pulsing like a living thing. Mama Jook was Uldr's slave now, another monster in his menagerie, and she had been dead a very, very long time.

Mama Jook sniffed hard and closed the door behind her. Madeira watched the narrowing patch of darkness and had a wild impulse to make a run for it, to knock this frail-looking old woman away and dash into the night. But she knew she would never make it. She wasn't a fast runner at the best of times, and if the accounts were true Uldr gifted Chained Ones with inhuman physical abilities. She could only lay there with her fist in her mouth and her heart pounding in her chest and watch as her freedom, five meters away, was closed and locked.

"I smell a mouse", the monster sang, with a sound like a flute made of burning paper. "Where are you, wee little beastie?"

No. No no no. Madeira held her breath, her teeth carving neat little crescents into her knuckles. She didn't fear death, not anymore. But there were things worse than death, and Uldr knew all of them. If his creatures ever found out who she was, and what she kept hidden in the walls of her house, she could find herself in a place where Dira could never reach her.

"Ha!" the creature shouted, flipping the tablecloth with her spidery hands. Her grin was a parody of a smile, wild with this new game.
Finding no intruders wedged between the legs of the table her cloudy eyes turned to the bed.

Do something! Madeira demanded her horrified body to move as the creature crossed the room to her hiding spot. She pushed past the white noise clouding her thoughts and raced through her options. You are an Eiyon and a Spiritist and a Craven and you will DO SOMETHING.

"Peekaboo, I found you!"

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The Hunger of Mama Jook

Postby Madeira Craven on November 3rd, 2019, 2:34 am

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A hand in the dark seized her by the upper arm and Madeira screamed as she was dragged her out into the light. Suddenly Mama Jook's grinning face loomed over her with those big protuberant eyes and those long teeth clack clack clacking. Prayers ran circles in Madeira's head like mantras as every fiber of her soul sought to rearrange itself, pushing outward onto this creature with an image of-

"A little girl? Why, you're not a mouse at all!"

The Lie was held like a blade between her teeth, knowing that the second she let the image slip it was all over. To the creature she was a slim blonde six year old with big blue eyes, and to Madeira it was Amelie. An image she had thrown around herself in a panic and now regretted. There was no choice of sneaking away now, not when it knew what her daughter looked like.

The creatures hand was still wrapped around her skinny arm with a grip that was numbing her hand. Madeira took a few gulping breaths, like a diver taking a running start, letting the air pressure and anxiety build up. Then with a squeaky mewling sound that she had to admit wasn't entirely fake, she burst into noisy tears.

"I-I'm sorry! The door was open and it smells really good and I was just going to look honest!" She blubbed behind a veil of snot and tears, working herself into a red faced lather. She was intimately aware of the monster's cold hand separated from her skin by only the thin fabric of her dress. And when it's thumb began to move in soothing arcs, caressing her, she had to hiccup to cover the shudder of revulsion.

"Hush now, you silly little mouse. Oh, I know what will make you feel better. Would you like a candy, little girl?" Clack clack clack went her teeth. Suddenly she was leaning closer, her eyes bright and almost feverish, her expression hungry. "Oh, I make the most delicious of treats for all the good little boys and girls. Don't you want some? I have sugar plums and candy canes and jelly beans... Come to Mama Jook's kitchen, and I'll show you what I'm making. You'd like that, won't you? Won't you?"

Madeira forced herself to nod, her mouth clenched tight against the bile rising in her throat. Mama Jook was holding her by her bracer arm. She wondered how far she would be able to lift that arm before the creature broke it. "Yah", she sniffled.

Mama Jook lifted her upright, never letting go of that grip, and Madeira scrambled to find her feet. The Spiritist was not a robust woman, sure, but no grandma on Miza would be able to lift her that easily. If Mama Jook was that careless with appearances how has she managed to fool the people of this estate for so long?

Madeira found herself being half pulled, half dragged to the kitchenette behind the excited creature. Her focus was on any opportunity to slip or break out of her grip, but Mama was terribly keen on showing her what was boiling in the cauldron, and never loosened her grip. In fact it seemed to get tighter, her nails twisting painfully into her skin as she was swung around to face the pot.

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The Hunger of Mama Jook

Postby Madeira Craven on November 3rd, 2019, 5:48 am

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"I'm cooking up something special, see?" The creature had her almost toe to toe with the grate, looking down once again into the pastel pink sugar bubbling away. It was uncomfortably hot, and sweat started to dampen Madeira's collar as the sweet smelling steam wafted into her face. Mama Jook brought out a ladle and stirred the cauldron, sending thick syrupy waves to lick dangerously at the sides. The dark shape at the bottom that Madeira thought was burnt sugar dislodged with the movement and thumped lazily in the vortex.

"Come look. Don't be shy. Doesn't it smell so good? Don't you feel better? Here", she scooped deep into the cauldron, hooking the thing at the bottom and lifting it to the surface. The pressure on her arm was becoming unbearable, and Madeira's terror took another dive. She didn't want to see what was in that cauldron. She didn't want to know.

"You're hurting me!", she mewled, and suddenly twisted in the creatures grip, trying to tip her wrist towards her, towards anything.
But she didn't get the chance.

"I said LOOK!"

A tingling of returning blood blissfully returned to Madeira's hand, only for that dry, powdery hand to wrench at her hair and push her
bodily into the hearth.

Amelie's image fled as Madeira's concentration on the Lie shattered. She missed smashing into the boiling cauldron by centimeters, saving herself with both hands braced against the mantle. The two hundred degree sugar popped merrily below her, little drops catching on her lips and cheeks and burning into her skin.

"You don't think I can sense you, you little bitch?!" the Chained One cackled madly over Madeira's screaming. "You think an Eiyon can walk by without Mama Jook knowing?! Stupid little mouse, I CAN SMELL YOU!"

Cords of skinny muscles pressed taut as wires against Madeira's skin, her back bowing and her arms trembling as she tried to pushed against the unbelievable force the creature was pressing against her head and neck. Every tick the cauldron got a little closer, until it seemed like the sugar inside was reaching for her, dappling her face with kisses until her face began to blister.

Knowing there was no way she was going to overpower a Chained One, Madeira breathed deep and . With the last bit of adrenaline fueled strength she shoved her right hand off the mantle and swung wildly behind her back. Mama Jook's cackling turned from mocking at the weak flail to a raspy roar of shock as that flailing hand went up in violent flame. The pressure on Madeira's neck loosened slightly as the creature leaned back from the green flames, not yet registering that the illusion wasn't hot. With that extra bit of reach Madeira followed the path of her arm and turned her body out from under its gripping hand. Continuing that trajectory and using every bit of force behind it, she grabbed the sizzling handle of the cauldron and whipped it at the creature.

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The Hunger of Mama Jook

Postby Madeira Craven on November 3rd, 2019, 8:37 pm

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A horrible screech bounced between the walls of the cottage. The molten sugar splashed across the creature and stuck to its skin, and without enough moisture in its body to blister, the skin was melting. Bags of ashy skin sagged on her cheeks and arms, and her desperate attempts to wipe away the sticky syrup only served to ripped them. She stumbled back, clawing at her skin and clothes, some impulse held over from her living body instinctively trying to escape what was hurting her.

Madeira's first shot sank into the creature's chest. The black souldart sank only to the shaft and stopped short with a hollow sound that was almost wooden. But the force of it knocked the stumbling creatures off balance, and she smashed into the checkered table, knocking it over and sliding to the floor. A piece of skin in her hairline jostled loose with the movement and peeled away, and beneath there was no blood or warm pink flesh. Stringy bits of mummified muscle and porous shriveled tissue was all that was left of her once living body.

"Dira, cleanse this diseased body and purify this corrupted soul", Madeira canted, pulling back the latch and slamming a second bolt into the barrel. Mama Jook was trying to rise, hissing through her long teeth, her expression twisted cruelly. One eye was deflating in its socket, but the other was wide and clear as it looked at Madeira with something that could have been hate or fear or something in between. Now that Madeira was in control she was calmer, and with a prayer on her lips she felt almost powerful. On her feet with her weapon raised she was beginning to feel as inevitable as her Goddess. Steadying her wrist with her opposite hand and sighted down her burning arm. "Return this creature to the fold of eternity, and as your instrument I will show it the mercy of death."

Avoiding the puddled of molten syrup, Madeira cleared the space between them with two large steps. Now true, bone deep panic showed on the creatures ruined face. The only thing the undead feared over their own god was true death. As the distance closed between her and the Spiritist she made a last desperate lunged, her clawed hands reaching and grasping for her throat. Madeira pulled the trigger. The Chained One's open eye inverted with the force of the souldart, the shaft sinking deep into her head. She fell forward, barely missing Madeira's feet, and didn't move again. Mama Jook was dead.

The adrenaline left Madeira with a rush, and she sank weakly to the floor. The upended cauldron rocked back and forth on its rounded belly, with the stink of candy and melted flesh spilled from its open maw. Looking around at the bright, cheerful, sugar crusted cottage and the bloodless corpse, Madeira decided right then and there she would never eat another sweet again.

The smell is what drove her back to her feet, when all she wanted to do was sit in shock. There was an undead lurking in Lhavit. The Shinya and the Okomo Estates families needed to know about this. And there was a little boy on the other side of the village still waiting for his bunny.

WC: 546
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Madeira Craven
long may she reign
 
Posts: 1623
Words: 1429383
Joined roleplay: October 11th, 2016, 7:45 pm
Race: Human
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Journal
Plotnotes
Medals: 10
Featured Contributor (1) Featured Thread (2)
Mizahar Grader (1) Overlored (1)
Donor (1) One Thousand Posts! (1)
One Million Words! (1) Lhavit Seasonal Challenge (1)
2018 Mizahar NaNo Winner (1)

The Hunger of Mama Jook

Postby Madeira Craven on November 13th, 2019, 11:11 pm

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Madeira Craven

Skills
  • Interrogation: 1xp
  • Investigation: 3xp
  • Logic: 1xp
  • Acting: 1xp
  • Endurance: 1xp
  • Tactics: 1xp
  • Weapon- Crossbow: 1xp
  • Brawling: 1xp

Lores
  • Interrogation: sniffing out a lie
  • Investigation: following a lead
  • Lore of the appearance of a Chained One
  • Chained One: can pretend to be human
  • Acting: pretending to be a child
  • Acting: how to work up crocodile tears
  • Brawling: fighting with a pot of molten sugar
  • Chained One: dry and bloodless

Awards & Retribution


Notes
Notes here.
User avatar
Madeira Craven
long may she reign
 
Posts: 1623
Words: 1429383
Joined roleplay: October 11th, 2016, 7:45 pm
Race: Human
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Journal
Plotnotes
Medals: 10
Featured Contributor (1) Featured Thread (2)
Mizahar Grader (1) Overlored (1)
Donor (1) One Thousand Posts! (1)
One Million Words! (1) Lhavit Seasonal Challenge (1)
2018 Mizahar NaNo Winner (1)


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