therookery | crystal

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crystal

FORM: Sending crystal
SENDER: Morrigan
RECIPIENT: Everyone
WHAT: Give her your spooky stories, also Flemeth/Asha'bellanar since people are off to Kirkwall
WHEN: Whenever you hear it what is time
WHERE: Skyhold (Morrigan's there, maybe you're elsewhere, welcome to the spoop podcast)
NOTES: Gonna just say oblig horror warnings for the content, if your thread contains anything you feel the need to warn for please stick it in the subject line and I'll update here.

The long nights and short days have passed us, Inquisition, yet I believe a certain appetite remains for some tales no matter the season. Those tales a mother or father told you, an older sibling, some elder grown grey and wise, while you were tucked up in your bed at night with the fire crackling in the hearth so very very far away, your light but that of the candle reflected in their eyes. [Well, there was no such thing in the Korcari Wilds for her but just believe in it. Imagine if you will, dear listener, and let her dark crooning voice lull you off into oblivion if you dare.]

Such tales as to chill and curdle the very blood in your veins. How many tales in Ferelden are told of my mother to have a wayward child behaving or to have those older still falling in line. We turn to Kirkwall now, perhaps that is why I think of where last she was sighted - the one the Dalish know by Asha'bellanar - and all those stories of stealing babes from their beds for her cooking pot that the Chasind will believe to this very day. Indulge me, if you will Inquisition, what tales frightened you as a child? Are there those that quicken your breath still? That send you hurrying along the darkened halls when a stray draft has the candle guttering out? Are those impossible fingers at your window or are they the branches of the overgrown tree? Is it the dreadful howling of a wolf or do the werewolves lope out of the forests once again?

[Morrigan has a talent for this sort of drama, leaning very close to her sending crystal to deliver it in her best 'oh how she dances under the moon' voice, all hushed and breathy when she must, drawing out each and every pause. The last pause before she ends the message is one of consideration. Has she not left out a rather sizeable group?]

Those who come from beyond the rifts, are there such tales you learned as children? Are there those you have learned of this world? Do they compare? I shall tell you a tale of mine own if trade is required.

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As a kid? You know, the usual stuff. Monsters under the bed or in the closet. Various folklore-y creatures that would come snatch bad kids away if they kept being little shits.

I dunno, sometimes I think the things that kids come up with themselves are scarier than the stories parents say.

What about just, like, regular creepy stories? Or are we just going with stories to make kids behave and not run off into the woods or the Slenderman will get them or the chupacabra will drink their blood if they aren't good, or whatever?

You come from beyond a rift, how am I to know what folklore you have that might compare to our own? So many of us share dragons that I wonder how much else there is that might stretch between so many worlds.

[Details, Church, these details matter. Speaking of stretching…]

Tell me that which you desire to tell. There are no… [this pause isn't a Morrigan dramatic pause, this is a 'did I hear that correctly and am I going to say those words' pause] Slendermen? Or chupacabras in Thedas that I know of. I was told tales by my mother who told a certain style of tale, that does not require you to limit what you wish to share.

Honestly, with folklore? Every couple miles of land there's some new weird shit people swear they see in the woods or in the middle of the night or wherever. I always thought the Jersey Devil was hilarious, honestly. Bigfoot. The Loch Ness monster! I mean, I guess I'm just talking about, what are they called, cryptids or whatever, but still steeped in folksy stuff. I tended to hear stuff about La Llorona, the weeping woman in the river, just by growing up close to the country of origin for that one. You've got banshees, vampires, werewolves, dragons, wendigos, shit, there's so much.

Ummmm, so, creepy stories to share in the dark. Right, okay, I got one, short and sweet!

A girl goes into her parents' bedroom in the middle of the night and wakes up her dad. "I had a bad dream," she says.

The dad yawns and blearily asks her if she wants to sleep in bed with him and her mom.

The girl shakes her head, keeping her voice down. "No, I don't want to."

That strikes the dad as kind of a weird response, given that she's in the room and woke him up. "What's wrong?" he asks.

The little girl says, "In my dream, when I told you about the dream I had, the thing wearing mommy's skin sat up."

The dad doesn't move, doesn't even turn his head. The figure in bed beside him stirs and sits up.

...I mean, that one's short and simple, and it reads better than I tell it. I could probably remember some longer ones.

[If you think Church hasn't spent some sleepless nights reading creepypasta for shits and giggles then you are Mistaken.]

Why would there be tales told of overlarge feet? Or a singular overlarge foot? Was it truly so monstrous? [Church don't ask what she's picturing. It might smell like if Alistair and Oghren's socks had stinky sock babies.] Of any of the things you listed, the dragons and werewolves are all that I can say that I know and that I have dealt with personally. You said before there was not magic in your world - is this to compensate? This glut of tales and creatures?

[The tale captures her attention but far more than Church might expect when some things...well, there was no father in Morrigan's life but he speaks of a mother, of wearing the skin of another.

It makes her own prickle uncomfortably.]

It is a terrible thing, to live in the flesh of another. Demons and abominations must. I shall trade you one of mine own if you would like while you remember yours.

[Plus she needs a breather because that hit a little too close there.]

...I guess? People used to believe in magic, way back when, but we don't actually have any. When people saw spooky shit they couldn't explain, you give it a name, make up stories about it to share around a campfire. Bigfoot's definitely a popular one. Like, a big hairy man-shaped thing. Do you have monkeys? I don't know if you guys have monkeys here. Nevermind. It's like a man but bigger, thicker, and completely covered in hair. I guess it leaves big footprints, else why call him Bigfoot... Lotta people have tried to find him, though. Like, actual semi-professional people, looking for proof. Do you have yetis? Because it's kind of like a yeti. Same general principle, just more snowy.

Vampires seem like they'd totally fit in this world, though. Dragons, heard you have them, really not looking forward to ever meeting them. Werewolves are...they're...wow, sorry, just the casual way you just dropped the whole living in the flesh of another line. Man. I forgot that's kind of a thing that can happen here. I mean, I've sure been accused of it before, but I just don't think about it like that.

[Weird to think that some creepypasta could actually come true here. If he ever comes across any sighting of Slenderman, he's fucking out, bye.]

I'm totally down for storytime. Hit me with your best shot, Elvira.

Oghren might have enough hair if he had the stature of Sten though knowing Oghren is what makes it a thing worth sharing, why the fascination with an overgrown hairy man? [Unless that's your thinkg, she's not here to kinkshame. Or is she?] What strange little lives your people must lead without magic, perhaps that is what many would wish here with no magic, all the world left mundane, some empty distractions to occupy the mind.

What is a vampire? I cannot say if they would fit without knowing. [Dragons are a thing he might not get a choice with, given the company their enemy keeps but she won't say that now with so many who might be listening.] There are werewolf tales of old in Ferelden, the saga of Dane and the werewolf is known best but some have encountered them more recently than others.

I will assume that name has some meaning to you. Very well, there is the tale of my mother you might encounter from those who know it but that is not the tale she told to me.

There was a time when Flemeth, young and beautiful, lived penniless and with naught to her name with a bard named Osen; as with beautiful women, another man lusted for her, this one a lord named Conobar. Upon Flemeth's suggestion, she would be given to Conobar as his wife and Osen would receive the coin he so desperately needed.

Conobar lied and murdered Osen out in the field for he had not the coin to pay for this bargain, a foul man indeed was he. Twas the spirits who came to Flemeth, telling her of Osen's fate, and she swore vengeance. Not for love [the distinction is important, people can't get the wrong impression of her mother here or this tale] but she refused to be wife to a dishonourable man. The spirits listened to her pleas and aided her in slaying Conobar though his allies gave chase across the lands where she eventually escaped to the Wilds.

Twas in the Wilds when Flemeth turned to the demon, and the demon made her strong.

It's a lot to do with a blurry image of something that doesn't seem like it fits. Same with Loch Ness, Nessie we call it--images of something in a lake that nobody's been able to find but a lot of people have sworn up and down to have seen.

Vampires are...so there's a lot of variation on the theme, but the gist is they're some form of undead that lives off the blood of others. You get turned into one either by getting bitten or drinking the blood of one. They can't stand the sunlight, don't have a reflection, can't enter a home without being invited, and religious items or those with powerful beliefs tied to them hurt 'em. Like. Holy water, crosses. Garlic, for some reason? I don't know why garlic's a thing.

[He's attentive to the story, because he's capable of being polite sometimes, and it doesn't sound too far-fetched. Sounds like something he'd hear related to, like, goddesses taking pity on scorned women, and shit like that. He's got one qualm though:]

Whoa. Your mom's got wild mythical stories about her? I can't tell if that'd be awesome or really tiresome.

There are those who believe that you shall catch cold in the heat if you wash your feet in winter yet that is not true. There are always those who will proclaim many things for that fleeting moment of eyes upon them.

[Boys are less likely to cry wolf in Thedas though, not when they really could possibly be werewolves.]

I see. We have corpses that may rise when a demon is unable to tell the difference between the living and the dead. A ravening corpse is one possessed by a demon of hunger, driven to feed upon the living. They may drain even the life from their enemies from being close enough to them. Darkspawn are the ones weaker in the sun, and as the days of the Blight grow longer, darker does the sky grow.

[The idea of how to repel them makes her snort; in her experience, the only good way to deal with things is to actually deal with them. To kill them. To burn the remains that they might never rise and return once again. Then again they aren't real to his people.]

How am I to take your meaning of awesome? Impressive or daunting? Both at once? [What does she say about Flemeth when there are so many who will hear?] Tis hardly the story most children are told of their mothers, perhaps all three.

I definitely had a run-in with your shambling ravening corpses before. That was not a fun introduction to Thedas, let me tell you, being ripped from where I was, falling through a wonderland tunnel, dropping into a gross swamp, and nearly being eaten by reanimated corpses. Ugh. [And dealing with a brand new body. So. That, too.]

Awesome is like...ummm...cool? It's really cool? It's...interesting in a--you know what, impressive and daunting both sound really good. But that story, is it true? Or just a story?

Or a little of both?

The Fallow Mire is where the Inquisition was when some arrived, was it not? I believe I would have heard if any had landed in a swamp I know well since my home for many years was one. The Chasind might take exception. They exact long slow deaths upon their victims, their cries echoing in the night. Quicker with the corpses.

[Sleep well whenever sleep comes Church.

Also what is it with you rifter folk and weird words. Good thing Church can't see her squinting at the sending crystal right now.]

I believed her then. I believe her now. Knowing how she prolongs her life has only made me more certain of the truth though I cannot say what she actually is. There are some parts that aren't true, details that Flemeth confirmed for me.

[As one does, the monster likes to hear it all reported accurately naturally.]

Okay, so, that's a word or...name or proper noun that I've heard before, but I don't really...know. Who are the Chasind? What's that really mean? Other than being protective of their lands and torturing people to death, apparently. [Sure sounds like they're a fun bunch of people right there.]

So you don't really know what your mom is, exactly. Does that mean you're part who-knows-what, too? Any dad in the picture to enlighten you or what? [He's placing bets on 'or what'. She seems very much...an independent woman raised by a wild radical bog witch type. Y'know, like you find alone in bars on Thursday nights.]

The Chasind are the Chasind, they are a group or people, sometimes just called Wilders or Chasind Wilders. They live different lives to the people you might find in a town or a village, worship their own gods, believe their own beliefs, have lived that way a long long time since they split off from the Alamarri who in time became the Avvar. Skyhold has a library, Kirkwall likely has one too.

I am Flemeth's daughter but I am human, that much I know. When I shapeshift I copy the soul of another animal but I cannot become such things as legend and tales would have you believe, but twas only Flemeth and I. [Dad is a husk, like the things spiders leave behind, we don't talk about dad Church.] Perhaps one of the men mother took to her bed, there were many of them.

Yeah, fine, I'll pick up a book and start reading history. You've got kind of a lot of groups for one person to read about everything in a year, okay? I was kinda more focused on the terrain and the maps. And mages, kinda.

['We don't talk about dad' is kind of a Church family motto to be honest.] I mean, I called your mom's story awesome, but it also doesn't sound like she's the kind of........being someone would want to be, so. Being human's not all bad. Not always what it's cracked up to be, but not bad!

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