burn with the brightest flame — open, bonfire

[Verdigris]

  [font=trebuchet ms]/retro to tsunami

  After finally clearing up the earlier mishap, Paper had gotten the fire started. The crackling of the flames, mixed with the warmth and light they provided, was almost soothing. It almost made him forget the bizarre weather, and the weird sense of foreboding that permeated his mind.

  Then again, wasn’t that disturbed wariness the perfect atmosphere for telling ghost stories? Maybe it was all working out in his favor after all... maybe. Furrowing his brows, Paper called, ”Hey, anyone who wants to tell scary stories, get over here.” Plastering a devilish smirk on his face for dramatic effect, he added, ”The one whose story is the most spine-chilling will earn a... novelty prize, I suppose you could call it.” He would have said “small prize,” but the object he had obtained and stashed away in his hut was hardly “small.”

[CAESAR CIPHER.]

IT'S ALL IN YOUR HEAD !

CAESAR CIPHER. MALE. THE TYPHOON. OFFICER.

Indeed, the sound of fire was soothing, and Caesar found comfort in the cackling of the flames and the way fire was known to destroy. The demon was lured over by the sight of the fire, rather than Papercutter's voice, but of course he did hear the wolf's statements as he took a seat. "Scary stories?" Caesar echoed with a slight snort. "Aren't 'scary stories' for kids?" He certainly wasn't easily spooked by anything, anyway.

#psychosocial.

[Keona.]

✯ — female. striker of the typhoon. blind. rusty spotted cat.  ref. bio.

Not to prove his point - but definitely giving some room for argument - was the tiny rusty spotted kitten, pale sea-green eyes dancing curiously in the flames.  Keona didn't know any scary stories, though she was sure if she had some time, that she might be able to come up with one.  To be honest, she'd just rather listen.  Truth be told, the little Striker was not scared by stories very often, because they were just stories; she liked hearing stories, it was fun, and the things that had an easier time frightening the child were real.  Like thunder.  Or spiders.

"Wanna listen," Keona murmured, smiling at Papercutter, the wolf's presence giving her an idea for a story about a massive butterfly.  Perhaps later, when she could flesh out said idea.  Albeit fidgety, the feline took a seat, resting her tail over her paws.

code by spacexual

[purgatory]

[Luciferr]

[align=center]

You will always be a monster, there is no turning back from it.
But what type of monster you become is entirely up to you -

Melting out of the shadows - quite a feat for so large a creature - Lucifer apprached the slow growing group and simply snorted "Scary stories are a universal age range" certainly back in the great wars of his old home - before these less complicated worlds, back among the sea of stars above - the troops had often entertained each other with wild out there stories - the more ridiculously implausible the better - after all, they saw enough horrors come flesh daily, they needn't make scary stories in their like.

the great dragon simply shuffled his wings and settled quietly by the fire - an ever present warmth if only he could feel it.

[sub]TYPHOON - RANK - TAGS - EXTREME - DRAGON REF - FACE REF[W]isker[/sub]

[guts]

Greed was attracted by the flames of the fire. The smoke had hit his nose as he was nearby and he was almost panicked, though he quickly remembered that water was everywhere. If there had been even the slightest bit of a fire, it would be extinguished easily. He was used to fire being used as a way of destroying things, a method of taking lives and their belongings. It was only natural that he was on edge when he first smelled it.

Nevertheless, he still padded over, wanting to see what was going on. He was pleased to see the fire was under control, and simply took a seat off to the side, obviously not like himself. Still, he managed to plaster on a fake smirk, looking around at all those who were present. "Some scary stories sound rad to me," then he turns to Caesar, nose twitching at his comment. "C'mon, Lemonhead, don't be such a buzz-kill,"

The panther then turns to Papercutter expectantly, waiting for someone to volunteer a story. He would tell a story of his past, which could be pretty spooky, but he also didn't quite feel like reliving the past more than he already was.

"SPEECH"

▼▼▼
tags

[ARGUS]

[align=center]

DOES THE BLANK STARE-
SCARE YOU MORE THAN THE FROWN?

---

[div style="background-color:#BG COLOR;width:90%; overflow: stretch;text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt;color: #E0EEEE;"] It was easy to fall into comfort within the clan. Easy to forget the old hurt that they had caused- forget the havoc they had done within their life in it's entirely. But fire brought it back again- reminded Argus what it was they seek to bury. The Quartermaster wondered if it was viable within her from how tense she was comming closer, even as cremates gathered around in the mirth of 'spooky stories' mirth clear on their faces as Argus numbly tried to figure out what it was to feel anything but dread.

When she approached there was a mirthless smile sitting onto her features. Dull eyes watching everyone else and seeming to flicker away from the fire. Paper cutter wanted a mini competition on stories then, huh? Argus was an encyclapedia of stories. Having spent too many lives under their own insanity. It was a matter of choosing one that wouldn't be too... revealing to their character. "I've got a story if anyone is willing to listen."

Argus settled beside Lucifer, letting her body relax slowly, wings coming lax and hitting the sands where she sat on either side before she finally let her gaze sit onto the fire. Breathing in and remembering. Letting the words come to her. "The stories called Immortal fever. I have little idea if it was an actual sickness, but i Prefer to think of it as one. " She started the story with a title- classic at least and a good lasting impression. "The story isn't so much of a story as a historical observation. From a few years back, when i was little." A jibe at her rather old age considering the younger body she was currently in. She made a nod towards her step dad a slow smile curling on her expression was less honest by the minute as she recollected.

"In a Desert land- there is a clan carved between sandstone and painted with blood. A war ridden clan- known for it's monstrous nature in battle and a scorn to the other more peaceful clans. Beyond it's dangerous reputation- living in a desert was hard, but at least there was a semblance of community among them all." She let out a chuff, humorless "A family shall you say. They at least liked to pretend it was like that. They were all part of it. Together against the world- and made a life for themselves."

"I am not entirely sure where the stories began, But in the mouths of greedy power hungry creatures it spread as gospel. Immortal and powerful- they claimed to gift, all you had to do- was one simple task. Soul harvesting they called it. It worked like this- if you managed to consume a soul within your life- when you died you would come back to life. It had a limit, like all common abilities have now- it worked only 9 times. Like most things- the secret grew to include more than simply coming back to life- people forgot the limit of the power- and heard only what they wanted to hear. Battles became more gruesome- clans turned against each other- clan mates fighting clan mates for a chance a hope of living again."

"It became bigger than leaders could handle- stories of people gaining the powers of those spirit they consumed. Ice, electricity, telepathy. War became less meaningful, no longer justice or frighting for a cause but a chance to become something. Suddenly people were forgetting the reason to eat souls- mortals gaining a taste for something immortal. Craving it- becoming mindless beasts of war. My own clan at the time- fell to these delusions. I am honestly unsure how i managed to survive it." Of course- bloodclan fell for different reasons than a claim to power. But that wasn't necessary to tell, had to keep a story interesting, no?

When she looked up- she let her eyes flicker blue as a evil smile fitted across her features. "Or maybe, i do." She looked up to see the expressions of her cremates, her features shifting to more humors one that the serious edge she had when telling it. Of course, she knew how she lifted past it- but what she was inferring about her living past it was all wrong. But she had too keep the story spooky no?

[W]isker