my friends and i were playing a 5e D&D campaign and our party consisting of a half-or paladin, a half-elf sorcerer, an elven rogue and my satyr bard roll into the local tavern having just burned down a village infested with undead (all the villagers had been turned so we just sealed the town gates and burned everything) evidently this caused some backlash on the local lord who had hired us to get rid of the undead, so naturally he sent assassins who try to jump us while we are all getting completely wasted in celebration our DM gets us to roll a perception check and lo and behold the rogue rolls a nat 20, spotting the assassins as they enter the tavern, triggering open combat. now my satyr had moments earlier left our table to go to the bar to hit on a semi-attractive elf (he had earned a reputation of sleeping with anyone that moves), so when the fight breaks out im all by myself on the wrong side of the room, luckily i was only facing a single assassin while the rest of their party faced the rest of mine. i was pretty sure i was going to die, i had some good spells at my disposal but they would likely have had some friendly fire, so my turn rolls around and im scrambling to come up with an idea when it hits me: Seduce the assassin. the DM tells me that the DC for that persuasion roll in mid combat will be really difficult. i say fuck it, ill die doing what i loved; flirting in inopportune situations. so i roll…
the assassin puts her blade away and comes up to my room with me, both of us abandon our allies (who were both pissed and impressed) and i manage to learn vital info about the campaigns big bad from the assassin during the pillow talk.
hi ! do you have any paranormal podcats to rec me? :) it would be really nice :) thank you ! :)
Hi! I don’t know if you want fiction or non-fiction so I’m gonna do both :)
• The Infinite Bad - a bunch of scrappy characters get dragged into a mystery of murder and old gods and missing teeth. Very spooky and very funny
• The Black Tapes - a journalist tries to solve a bunch of paranormal tapes and ends up uncovering a doomsday cult
• Deadly Manners - I haven’t listened to much of this (so can’t really tell if it’s actually paranormal) but it has a great atmosphere! A dinner party goes very wrong when the lights go out
• Ostium - an abandoned town on no map filled with doors. Each door leads to a different place in time. The only similarity between them is that they’ve all been abandoned.
• The No Sleep podcast - hundreds of spooky creepypasta stories
• Paralyzed - I have this one queued up but haven’t listened to it yet. It sounds really good - a man, unable to sleep, suffers from sleep paralysis. But is it really?
• Dead Oaks - again one I haven’t managed to get to but sounds very spook! It maybe more horror than paranormal. A journalist is trying to find his partner in the small town of Dead Oaks, but it seems the town doesn’t want him to find her.
• The Lift - people who are at a crossroads in their life find themselves in an old abandoned hotel, where a young girl is waiting to take them up…or down.
• The Moonlit Road Podcast - individual ghost stories
• Misadventure By Death - a guy becomes a groundskeeper at a haunted Manor House museum in the middle of the Deep South. Nothing can go wrong too badly…can it?
• Twelve Chimes it’s Midnight - be careful what you wish for, because when the clock chimes midnight..you might just get it.
• Harry Strange - a magical PI tries to solve the problems of every creature under the sun and moon
• Hayward Sanitarium - A new psychiatrist joins the staff to treat a number of patients who suffer from delusions. Only…turns out they’re not delusional after all. (I was worried going in that this would play into the whole mental illness trope but it hasn’t - there really are things that go bump in the night and the doctors are finding it out the hard way)
• The Magnus Archives - I love this one! An archivist tries to catalogue paranormal events and occurrences. Only the further he gets into it the more things unravel.
• The White Vault - I don’t know if this is actually paranormal because there’s only been 1 episode released. It’s told through diary entries and recorded conversations as a person tries to figure out what happened to a research team, and where they disappeared to.
• The Tunnels - there’s tunnels underneath the old town that have been sealed off. For a reason.
• Mabel - the house doesn’t want them to leave
• Return Home - spooky goings on but it’s more funny than scary
• Dead Serious - two girls investigate a haunted house. They’re just stories after all…aren’t they?
• The Lost Cat - he’s just a guy, trying to find his cat. This one is more fun and creepy than scary
• Help Me - a girl is trying to get over her best friends suicide. Only…it may not have been suicide after all… (do not listen to this if you are at all triggered by self harm)
• Real Ghost Stories Online - has a MASSIVE back catalogue of old stuff you can access. The name says it all haha
• Inside the Exorcist - the real life story behind the film. Maybe not paranormal per se but an interesting inside
• Anything Ghost - only the newest ten episodes are free but the back catalogue goes back to 2006 so it’s well worth it
• Bizarre States - set up like a talk show this is less about the atmosphere and more learning about creepy paranormal news
• Scared? - real life ghost stories and interviews with people who’ve experienced them
• Uncanny Japan - Japanese stories about ghosts, demons, and gods
Ok these are all the ones that are just paranormal! I didn’t put the ones I thought were more horror on the list, but send me a message if you want them too :)
Whoa, I finished chapter 3 almost a week ahead of time! Partly because I started another KAL, partly because… well, we’re moving in few weeks and next week we’re starting packing so I know I’m gonna be pretty busy.
This week’s square is my favorite so far - I love the big 20 row patterns the most. There was chaos in town when giant seals came splashing in, only to be interrupted by posturing giant birds.
A POOR BOY LIVES WITH HIS GRANDMOTHER, AND EVERYONE HATES HIM BECAUSE HE’S AN AWFUL LITTLE SHIT. HE’S CONSTANTLY BULLIED BY EVERYONE EXCEPT A GUY CALLED KIVUQ, WHO’S A PRETTY GREAT DUDE, AND ONE DAY THE KID DECIDES HE’S HAD ENOUGH OF THIS BULLSHIT.
HE GOES HOME TO HIS GRANDMA AND ASKS HER TO BEAT UP THE OTHER KIDS FOR HIM. OBVIOUSLY, HIS GRANDMA THINKS THAT’S A FUCKING STUPID IDEA BECAUSE SHE’S REALLY OLD AND FRAGILE AND IT WOULD BE A DISASTER. INSTEAD, SHE TELLS HER GRANDSON TO FUCK RIGHT OFF AND NOT COME BACK UNTIL HE’S FOUND A SEALSKIN.
EVENTUALLY, THE BOY COMES HOME WITH A DEAD BABY SEAL. IT’S ALL SAD AND FLUFFY AND BLOODSTAINED, AND IT LOOKS A BIT SHITTY. THAT’S NOT A PROBLEM, THOUGH. THE GRANDMA TELLS HIM TO MAKE A COAT OUT OF THE SEAL’S SKIN AND GET REALLY FUCKING GOOD AT PRETENDING TO BE A MOTHERFUCKING SEAL. HE MAKES THE COAT AND THEN SPENDS THE REST OF THE FUCKING DAY FLOPPING AROUND THE FLOOR GOING “ARF ARF”.
GRANDMA IS DELIGHTED BY THIS, GRABS HER POOR BULLIED GRANDSON BY THE ANKLES, AND THROWS HIM INTO THE BATH. IT’S REALLY FUCKING COLD, AND HE’S PRETTY UPSET BY GETTING THIS SORT OF AWFUL BULLSHIT TREATMENT FROM HIS GRANDMA. SHE DOESN’T GIVE A FUCK, THOUGH, AND WATERBOARDS HIM UNTIL HE GETS REALLY FUCKING GOOD AT HOLDING HIS BREATH. THEN SHE TELLS HIM WHAT HE HAS TO DO.
STILL WEARING HIS SEALSKIN, THE KID FLOPS HIS WAY ALL THE WAY ACROSS TOWN MAKING SEAL NOISES UNTIL ALL THE OTHER KIDS, INCLUDING KIVIUQ, ARE FOLLOWING HIM. THEN HE FLOPS INTO THE SEA AND FUCKS OFF INTO THE DISTANCE, AND ALL THE FOLLOWING KIDS SWIM AFTER HIM, DESPERATE TO MURDER THE SHIT OUT OF THE ADORABLE LITTLE BABY SEAL.
AS SOON AS HE GETS FAR ENOUGH OUT, THE KID MAKES A COUPLE OF QUICK PRAYERS, AND A FUCKING MASSIVE STORM STARTS. ALL THE KIDS DIE, EXCEPT FOR THE SEAL BOY, WHO FLOPS BACK HOME LOOKING ADORABLE AND ONLY SLIGHTLY MURDEROUS, AND KIVIUQ, WHO GETS WASHED UP ON A DISTANT SHORE BECAUSE HE WASN’T AS MUCH OF A FUCKTRUMPET AS ALL THE OTHER KIDS.
Muse A hates the beach. The only reason they’re here is because the bought this stupid beach house for the summer, to propose to their boyfriend/girlfriend/partner, that dumped them three weeks ago. The trip was non-refundable, and Muse A would hate to see all that money go to waste too.
While walking on the beach they spot what looks like a dead animal, but is really just a pelt, laying on the beach. Thinking that it’s interesting, and a much better souvenir than some stupid seashells, they decide to take it home with them.
The next day, Muse A spots someone, Muse B, looking around the beach for something they seem to have lost. They can’t seem to remember what they lost though. Muse B takes an immediate liking to Muse A and asks if they could spend time together. Confused, but flattered at the attention from a beautiful stranger right after being dumped, Muse A agrees and takes Muse B home.
Muse B is an amazing person, but Muse A can tell that something is off. They’re always cold, they eat way too much fish, and every chance they get they’re staring longingly out the window at the ocean, even though they apparently can’t swim. They also haven’t seemed to stopped what they are looking for, even looking around Muse A’s house, for what it is they can’t recall.
It almost reminds Muse A of the stories the old fishermen in town tell of Selkie. Seal creatures, doomed to live on land and wed the person that takes their pelt, never return to the sea, until they find it again. But that’s just a fairy tale.
Option 2) Muse A steals the pelt on purpose, seeing the sea beauty in the waves, and enthralled wanted to keep them for their own.
A month-long weaving project. This rug features a lot of plants that grow in my garden, or I notice around town. Solomon’s seal, hostas. marigolds, mustard greens, roses, daisies, spiderwort etc. Both weaving and gardening have felt really important to managing some external stresses in my life this summer. I am happy to have both practices and the positive feelings they bring.
It has always been difficult being a blind man in a small town. You can sense the sidewalks clearing as you approach, sweeping the pavement with your white cane. The old saying that the visually impaired have heightened senses is very true, and I can sense the pity as people move out of the way or hold a door open. I should be appreciative, but over the years your outlook can sour. I was lucky enough to find a beautiful woman (I know what you’re all thinking; yes I can tell), a decent job answering phones and an apartment that fit my budget. Things were good, that is until Thursday.
I was having dinner at home with my fiancée Jen and we were in the middle of discussing an article she had read about advances in sight restoration technology, when I heard a scratching sound coming from the floor above. She didn’t hear it at first but it grew louder to the point where it sounded like someone was trying to dig through the ceiling from the apartment above. Jen is pretty friendly with the girl upstairs, who is a petite and in her early 20s – an unlikely source for such an aggressive scraping. I volunteered to go upstairs and check but Jen insisted that she go instead, as she doesn’t like me taking the old staircase and the elevator is at the far end of the hallway.
Seconds after Jen left to go upstairs, the scraping stopped. Jen returned a few minutes later and immediately told me that nobody answered the door. Her tone seemed less expressive than usual, and the concern I would expect from her in a situation like that was noticeably absent from her voice. Loud noises and nobody answering the door was enough to put me on edge though, and my immediate idea was that we should call the cops. Jen had a traumatic experience a few years ago involving the police which I am not going to get into, so I was hesitant to suggest it knowing she would be anxious about having to speak to the police. She wasn’t. Still lacking concern or any other noticeable emotion in her voice, she agreed and even handed me the phone. Her hands were cold and clammy, which was the only indication of stress I was getting from her in a situation where she would normally be in tears. I knew something was amiss. I could hear the cops show up and leave minutes later, and nothing seemingly out of the ordinary happened aside from the police never coming to our door to ask us what happened. I wrote it off in my mind as nothing, finished my cold dinner and went to sleep assuming that the events of the night were of no concern.
Friday morning came and things got weirder. Jen leaves for work early, so waking to find her half of the bed empty wasn’t a surprise, more of an indication that I should be waking up for work as well. I got ready and walked outside to wait for the bus, which usually arrives every 5 minutes in the morning. After 15 minutes I was getting concerned when no bus had arrived, in fact, not a single car had passed me. I heard people pass me on foot, but nobody was speaking. They seemed to be walking erratically and dragging their heels. To make it even creepier, every single pedestrian was stopping dead in their tracks within a few feet of me. I could feel them glaring at me. A few times I threw out a nervous “can I help you?”, but nobody responded. No bus, no dogs barking, nobody talking – except for one person – a child. He stopped dead like the others but he spoke, breaking the longest silence I had ever experienced. “Can you not see me?”. His voice seemed angry, as if he was offended that I couldn’t see. As if my disability somehow ruined his day.
I decided to call my boss to tell him I would be late. No answer – which is basically a free pass to skip work. I called Jen, who’s phone was off, and left her a voicemail telling her that “I am really freaked out right now and I am staying home from work, see you when you get home”.
She got home around 5, much earlier than usual, and despite my frantic voicemail she still seemed uncharacteristically unconcerned. “I had dinner at work and the food is making me feel sick, forgive me if I seem odd”. I didn’t even acknowledge it. “Jen, did you notice anything strange outside today?”. She had walked into the bedroom and slammed the door before I could finish the sentence. I had been looking forward to talking to her all day, but I couldn’t be mad if she was sick. I ate microwave pasta and went to sleep on the couch, hoping everything would be normal in the morning.
Or course it wasn’t. When I woke up in the morning, my calls were going to voicemail for everyone, the radio was nothing but static, and the tv was a solid audio tone on every channel. While I was eating some cereal the bedroom door opened, and what came out of the bedroom that morning wasn’t my fiancée. It paced around me in circles and the more I called out “Jen!”, the more frantically it darted around the room. It wasn’t Jen and I should have figured that out by then. I tried to get closer to it and I could feel the breeze and hear the footsteps move impossibly as it evaded. Thinking that this was Jen playing a cruel joke on my weakness, I got angry and tried to grab at her wrist. Unfortunately I got it. It was thinner than Jen’s arm, and felt frail, cold and slimy to the touch. The moment I made physical contact, it shrieked with a piercing tone that I have never heard a person produce before. The shriek was joined by a chorus of other shrieks, with more and more distant voices joining the chorus as the seconds went on. It didn’t just sound like everyone in the building had joined in, it sounded like everyone in the entire town.
I jumped back, covering one ear with my left hand and the other with my right shoulder, not wanting to put my slime covered right hand anywhere near my face. Whatever was standing in front of me, shrieking louder than any human could, has replaced my fiancée, my neighbours and my entire neighbourhood – but not me.
I went for a walk this afternoon, a very long walk. There is a school for the blind about 3.5 miles outside of town and I figured it was my only shot at finding people like me who were unaffected by this phenomenon. There wasn’t a single car on the highway, at least none that were moving. All were stopped in the middle of the road and vacant. About a quarter mile outside of my town, my white cane struck a chain link fence. I followed this fence for over an hour, and although I haven’t checked the entire perimeter, it seems that the town has been sealed off entirely. I could hear helicopters all around the perimeter but none got close enough to have possibly seen me. I took comfort knowing that this…whatever this is…has been contained and went home, hearing footsteps and rustling bushes the whole way, as if the entire town was silently gawking at me. When I arrived home, she was there – it was there. Hissing, darting back and forth, unable to comprehend why I could look right at it with no consequence.
Every curse can be a blessing. As I sit here typing this, my disability is the only thing preventing conversion. It has been moving about this room for the past several hours, snarling and shrieking, obsessed with what it cannot have. I am no longer afraid. It knows killing me would be letting me win, and I don’t think it is capable of accepting defeat. But there is no way for it to win now, and only one way for me to win. I am not posting this asking for help, I am posting this because people have friends and family in this town and I want them to know that looking for these people will put them in danger.
When or if they find me, I will be the only one here who went by choice.
This is not surrender, this is victory in death by choice.
Eldin Province is a province in steady decline. The two major peoples of the area, being the humans of Kakariko Village and the Gorons of Death Mountain, each face a particular subset of problems that are unique, yet ultimately linked to one another, as problems invariably are. The Goron leader has undergone a monstrous metamorphosis, throwing the Goron Mines into disarray, precluding the harvesting of the Goron special crop, the mining of precious ores, as well as general entrance into their sacred grounds and shrines.
Kakariko Village appears to be decaying, though the cause is not at first visible. Due to the insular policies of the Gorons during the loss of their leader, Kakariko has had no trade to speak of, and its already small population seems to have emigrated elsewhere. Its difficulties are further exacerbated by the onslaught of twilight which covers the town, killing or converting villagers into Shadow Beasts. This province is a proving ground for Link that delves far below physicality; he is helping to rid the land of poverty and recession by ultimately reuniting its people. This is an oft-overlooked theme within the Zelda series, wherein reconciliation of peoples whose inability to do so independently has been severely compromised by something exterior exerting itself upon their societies. These civilizational issues are reflected in the landscape of the region, whose architectural heritage is drawn primarily from the American Southwest during a rather brief and rustic era.
The Kakariko Village of this game is far removed from its various other interpretations. Resting uneasily within sight of the volcanic explosion of Death Mountain, whose hardened ash and flame rend the sky, the village hugs both sides of a desiccated ravine. This immediately calls up the image of a western town, where the prominent buildings would line either side of one main street; this is true of Kakariko, whose inn, sanctuary, bomb shop, and houses sidle up next to one another on the only road through town. In such an arid and dusty region, and especially living in a windy gulch, the houses have few, if any, windows, and even these are extremely small, only for the occasional airing. Since the Twilight Invasion, both roads into town have been sealed off, and no one mans the prodigious watch tower that overlooks the portal to Hyrule Field. Regarding style, there is not much to say. Simple, rough masonry is built upon wooden or dirt frames, which then give rise to the blue-tiled roofs of the houses. Little skill has been employed in its woodworking, and even the metal chutes on buildings seem nearly ready to fall from their positions. Yet inside Malo’s shop, which the ambitious youth sets up in order to fill a sundries vacuum, there are wires and electric lamps. I don’t believe that we see electricity used in any other locations within the game, so it is almost unbelievable that such technology should be at play here.
But these are just some of the buildings. Another tradition breaks the surface near Eldin Springs. The house of the spiritually-attuned Renado and his daughter is of the pueblo style, shaped fancifully and made of adobe. It looks like an overturned pot, and weathering has rent the upper portion of this sanctuary. Above the door, an insignia very similar to that of the Goron Ruby is barely visible on the tan stone. Red painted triangles circle the house at ground level, broken only by the two doors and windows. A bell can be seen from the ground outside, signifying that this is some form of meeting hall and safe house. It is a strict incongruity with the other buildings of the town, but upon reflection it is not strange to see two architectural styles of one region married and blended together; it is a confluence of Wild West meets an indigenous population whose buildings are brilliantly adjusted to match the backdrop of the environment.
Inside the sanctuary, an overbearing statue of the light spirit Eldin, wings outspread, perches upon a ball of light. Below this, of course, is the secret tunnel and escape route. Circling the room are simple renditions of eagles, hearkening back to Eldin as well as a central spirit of Native American culture. Also prominent are abstract depictions of the sun, which rest higher than the flight paths of the encircling birds.
Kakariko Graveyard has long since fallen into disrepair. A broken sign marks its entrance, and the gravestones are all in disarray. Dust is thrown through the air, and its musical refrain is a mournful tune played upon a jug, once again echoing the thought of a western town slowly fading away. The foliage is lifeless, and the stonework lies crumbling. However, the signs of an ancient, more beautiful architecture are present. A claustrophobic and hidden tunnel lies to the east of the graveyard. This passageway leads to a peaceful pool of water, which demarcates the burial site of Zora nobility. The eye is drawn toward the central grave marker which, to be honest, is stunning. Lichen and moss cover an exquisite relief of plant motifs which interweave around the symbol of the Zora, a symbol likely derived from Nayru’s holy symbol. The fluid lines carved into stone are offset by the upward, more linear dorsal fin that forms the topmost portion of the marker. The stone is placed in a hollow that is set to movement by the aquamarine reflections of the water. The wall behind carries a relief sculpture of familiar water-centered Zora decorations, such as the conch shell and subaqueous florae. Queen Rutela mentions to Link that this pool is where certain members of the Zora race come to rest, meaning that this font of water is most certainly a sacred one. The water is perfectly clear, and the light refracted in the water comes to rest upon the floor below in lovely, flickering tones. This area is fed by two waterfalls that flow to either side of King Zora’s tombstone, and an underwater channel leads to another yet more sacred body of water—Lake Hylia.
Truly beautiful things render one speechless, I suppose.
If Twilight Princess’s iteration of Kakariko is redolent of a western town, the Hidden Village is an exact replica of a western town. It is, in every way, a settlement that would have seen duels, cowboys, and raids. The hamlet consists of a single road that is lined with buildings, whose false fronts and wooden balconies are nearly carbon copies from old western films. Wanted signs, old photographs, antiquated lanterns, and shipping crates litter the town. The billboard, imploring tourists (the thought of Hyrulean tourism is a very peculiar concept to me, but I suppose it is a vital part of many economies and societies) to visit and easily visible from the street, reads “Welcome to Old Kakarico” and Impaz (the only denizen of this place) herself states that she was named for the founder of the village, which makes the relationship between this town and the Kakariko Village found south of here unclear. How the Sheikah were involved in the creation of these places, if at all, is yet unrevealed, but it seems that nearly every prominent race of the Zelda franchise has at least a small foothold within Eldin Province.
Still the ancestral home of the Goron tribe, the area around Death Mountain has changed greatly since the events of Ocarina of Time. No longer is the land surrounding the great peak arable and life-giving, with gentle hills and green grasses. Barren, dry cliffs, plateaus, and gorges have shredded the surface, and a dim haze of dust and ash is blown over a red and brown land.
Perhaps not the most hospitable place for humankind, it is here that the Gorons thrive. They have channeled the powers of the geological features of this territory to their benefit, employing steam-powered machines, utilizing powerful magnets, and coating everything in scalable metal outcroppings.
The mines perform myriad functions, and Gorons have always been deeply and undeniably connected to caverns such as these. These mines contain the resources and mineral wealth of the Goron tribe, serve as a sporting arena (which houses the Japanese-derived Sumo matches) and holy place, and shelter the Fused Shadow placed in the tribe’s charge. It is an incredible hodge-podge of a structure, being the spiritual, governmental, and economic center of the Goron civilization. With this in the foremost of our minds, all of these functions should be evident in a walkthrough of this area. A hub for commerce and trade, the precious ores take a central role in the dungeon, as do the open-air loading docks, mine carts, and enormous magnetic cranes. Industry has found a home here, and manifests itself in the pipes, bolts, steel beams, metal plating, and large furnaces. The ore is mined, fashioned in some way, and then packed up and shipped off, probably using the waterways found in the main loading area. It is made known that necessary components for bombs originate here, and from the Iron Boots, it is evident that the Gorons also dabble in skillful metallurgy.
Some of the stranger chambers of the Goron Mines are those whose purpose is not industry. In the antechamber to the mines proper, surrounding the wrestling platform, there are diminutive chairs, certainly not meant for Goron usage. Also odd is the Goron sense of décor, which, in addition to the ochre and dust-red paints found upon the walls, seems to consist of handprints—and which race they belong to is anything but clear.
But, perhaps that is the point of all the peculiarities of this region. In some ways, it is incredibly rich and cosmopolitan. These cultural borrowings and interchange make this province, though falling apart at the seams, a quaint and memorable one.