welcome to my writing blog! my name is adrian, and i’ve stolen the curaxu brand for myself. if you remember the original curaxu, you deserve a veteran’s discount, and you’re allowed to gently bully me over this beloved special interest.
for names, i also go by tristan or curaxu. for pronouns, i use they/them, he/him, it/its, and gol/golds pronouns! honestly anything not she/her is fair game.
i’m hoping to get this blog a bit more active! you’ll mostly see OC writing here, but i may drabble in some fics. feel free to wander into my inbox about just about anything! i don’t necessarily take requests, but if you ask me about something, you’ll probably get a bit of writing anyway!
my talk tag is #curaxu rambles, and my writing tag is #curaxu writes! my main blog is @equinoxum
CURRENT PROJECTS:
- MOONGLADE SEA; a series of drabbles and snapshots of a merfolk au. the premise is simple: Evan, a human, was saved from drowning as a child by a young mer. to return the favor, he’s started working at a rehabilitation facility for mers as an adult. the plot follows him and the pod of four mers he helps, showing the journey of the pod first meeting to the slow romance that builds between the 5 main characters.
- NEW RIVIERA SICKFICS; a few oneshots about the main cast of New Riviera, a city where some people can return from the dead. many of these people have turned to crime and less than ethical ways of manipulating the corrupt to get their acts together. even if you can’t die, crime isn’t the safest thing to do. this is really just an excuse to write whump.
- A BLOODY SYMPHONY: A D&D 5E CAMPAIGN; exactly what it says on the tin. this campaign uses Undyings (the people who come back from the dead) as a homebrew trait/mechanic. the party has been summoned to deal with The Symphony, an Undying crime syndicate that has been wreaking bloody havoc for nearly two years. but they also may face down The Court, another Undying crime syndicate, who have been ruling the city of Riviera for over a decade, and are less than pleased that The Symphony has been on their turf.
A 15+ roleplay server ; set in the afterlife, a place for second chances
Join us here!
↬ 𝙰𝙱𝙾𝚄𝚃 𝚄𝚂
At first glance, the town of Umbra is just like any other small town. The lively shops, historic buildings, and placid lake make it a picture-perfect home. But when you look a little closer, the eclectic nature of the town becomes a little stranger. What truly sets the town apart, though, is something that everyone who lives there shares in common.
They’re all dead.
Established a few years into the Common Era by a peculiar figure named Rhodopis, the town is an ever-growing patchwork. On occasion, the draw of the town is so powerful that even sections of other afterlives come crashing in, bringing with them people from across time.
For the most part, though, everyone seems to arrive in the same way. Those who arrived before the first railway came in horse-drawn carts and carriages drawn by ghostly steeds. Then came wooden rails that the same carts ran on. Then metal rails, and then… the steam locomotive.
The train arrives daily, always at the same time, noon on the dot. It doesn't always contain passengers, but when it does, they are the deceased, new arrivals to this strange corner of the afterlife. It remains at the station until midnight, steaming out as the last few people go to sleep, just to return the next day like clockwork.
No one has ever been able to return to the land of the living aboard the train. And though Umbra is more than willing to let its people leave, those who pass through the mists surrounding the town always end up right back where they started. So the question remains:
Is this truly a peaceful afterlife? Or are there still more secrets to be discovered?
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↬ 𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝚆𝙴 𝙾𝙵𝙵𝙴𝚁
A unique low fantasy setting with detailed worldbuilding
A variety of character creation opportunities
Multiple ways to get involved in roleplay, including texting and mini events
A homebrew trait/race I made for the 5E campaign I’m running! It essentially creates functional immortality, and it’s primarily functioning as a plot point for my campaign, but I figured I’d share it since I’m pretty proud of it for my first proper homebrew creation! Feel free to use it, just please credit me and reblog if you do!
(also, I’m unsure on whether this would classify as a trait/feature or a race? It functions similarly to a race, but it doesn’t change or override the original race.)
UNDYINGS (A D&D 5E Homebrew Trait)
The Undying trait is available to (almost) any species, and can be chosen during character creation. It can also be chosen later on, if the DM and/or player thinks it would be appropriate.
Undyings can exist in one of two states: unawakened and awakened. An unawakened Undying is one who has not yet had their first death, and in most cases, is unaware that they possess this trait. Many Undyings grow old and pass away from old age without awakening the trait, as a natural death of old age will not activate it. An awakened Undying has died and come back at least once. They cease aging, as their body simply returns to the state it was in before they first awakened the trait, negating any scars, injuries, or disabilities they acquired during a “cycle”-- a term referring to the time between deaths.
When an Undying dies, their dead body decays at a much faster rate. It takes about two days for the body to disappear, rapidly rotting and disappearing. A new body will then appear in the place they last slept OR last felt safest to begin another cycle (this can be up to the player or the DM), with a red mark from the death being the only thing left behind. Marks vary from injury to injury, but are consistent between certain causes of death.
Communities of Undyings are typically tight-knit, regardless of species, frequently taking in non-Undyings as well. Be warned, though: Some consider Undyings to be pure evil. Flaunting this trait is often a way to bring yourself trouble.
Species Unable to Take This Trait: Fey-type creatures (e.g. Fairies, Centaurs, Hexbloods, Satyrs); Construct-type creatures (e.g. Warforged, Autognomes); Undead-type creatures (e.g. Vampires, Dhampirs, Reborns, Revenants); Aetherborn
Ability Score Increases: If your initial species does not provide an increase to Constitution, your Constitution score increases to the next even number.
Age: After their first death, an Undying ceases to physically age. The one exception to this trait is seen if an Undying is under the age of adulthood (eg, 18 in humans). In that case, they will continue to age at 1/3rd of the typical rate until they reach this physical age.
Undying Sense: When rolling to detect if another person is an awakened Undying using Insight, Investigation, or Perception, you may add half of your proficiency score, rounded down.
Swift Recovery: Typically, an Undying can take anywhere from two days to two weeks to come back from a death (calculated by rolling 2d6), but through much trial and error, it was discovered that certain spells can speed up the process. These spells are primarily healing spells, and are listed below:
1st Level: Cure Wounds, Healing Word
2nd Level: Lesser Restoration, Prayer of Healing
3rd Level: Aura of Vitality, Life Transference, Mass Healing Word
5th Level: Greater Restoration, Mass Cure Wounds
6th Level: Heal
9th Level: Mass Heal, Power Word Heal, Wish
Instead of being performed on the person themselves, these spells can be performed on an item important to them to speed up the process of an Undying coming back. The amount of hit points “healed” affects how much the spell will speed up the process.
Seven For A Secret is a gothic lit-inspired short story that I’ve been writing over the past month for my English class! It was written after reading A Turn of The Screw. The most difficult part about writing this piece was that it’s primarily told through audio recordings, meaning I couldn’t really describe actions. It’s actually a rewrite of a ghost story I wrote for a creative writing assignment four years ago, and I couldn’t be more happy with how it’s come out.
I appreciate any (constructive!) feedback! Likes, reblogs, and comments are all very appreciated!!
STORY STATS:
STARTED NOV. 2ND 12pm - FINISHED DEC. 16TH 1:20pm (EST)
FINAL WORD COUNT: 4,940 words
SUMMARY
On a warm autumn evening, two teenagers find themselves braving the old, dilapidated house that has stood on the outskirts of town for nearly 200 years. They’ve grown up hearing countless stories of its supposedly haunted halls, and tonight, they aim to learn its secrets themselves. The story they find, retold through abandoned recording devices and a book still dripping with ink, is beyond their wildest imagination. But one question lures them onwards: what happened, decades ago, to the last people to cross this house’s rotting threshold?
Seven For A Secret is a gothic lit-inspired short story that I’ve been writing over the past month for my English class! It was written after reading A Turn of The Screw. The most difficult part about writing this piece was that it’s primarily told through audio recordings, meaning I couldn’t really describe actions. It’s actually a rewrite of a ghost story I wrote for a creative writing assignment four years ago, and I couldn’t be more happy with how it’s come out.
I appreciate any (constructive!) feedback! Likes, reblogs, and comments are all very appreciated!!
STORY STATS:
STARTED NOV. 2ND 12pm - FINISHED DEC. 16TH 1:20pm (EST)
FINAL WORD COUNT: 4,940 words
SUMMARY
On a warm autumn evening, two teenagers find themselves braving the old, dilapidated house that has stood on the outskirts of town for nearly 200 years. They’ve grown up hearing countless stories of its supposedly haunted halls, and tonight, they aim to learn its secrets themselves. The story they find, retold through abandoned recording devices and a book still dripping with ink, is beyond their wildest imagination. But one question lures them onwards: what happened, decades ago, to the last people to cross this house’s rotting threshold?
On the outskirts of town, standing atop a hill like an ancient ruin, was an old, abandoned manor. It had been built nearly two hundred years past, cutting its imposing figure for just as long. And, if you were one to believe the rumors that flew around town, there was a good reason everyone avoided it. Most said it was haunted, terribly so, by a creature that was not quite demon, but not quite ghost, either. Some of the older residents of the town remembered a group coming, years before, to investigate the house. They’d returned to town after a week or so, haggard and drained, and the house nearly went up in flames just days later. No one had ever learned just what had happened, but the rumor mill had been abuzz with theories.
And now, decades later, on a warm autumn evening, two teens stood outside the house. They’d grown up hearing about how they should never go there, and now, in typical teenager fashion, they decided that they clearly had to find out what all the fuss was about. So tonight, Albion Chester and Hecuba Wyndham were going to be braving the rotting halls.
In preparation for their expedition, Hecuba had gathered as much information about the house as she could. She’d discovered the police reports from the fire, which revealed some things that the duo couldn’t excuse as natural. None of the authorities had ever entered the building, putting out the fire from the outside. Reports of horrible howling from deep inside the house were filed away. The strangest report, however, was one of something witnessed by only a few people. A dark figure, dripping with black ooze, had appeared in one of the smashed windows of the upper floor, watching the few police and firefighters on duty with white eyes that had seemed to glow. It was written off as a group hallucination, but the duo were near certain that it wasn’t.
Now, standing in the rotting doorway, the duo prepared. Armed with flashlights, and, in Albion’s case, a baseball bat, the pair stepped inside, swinging the beams of their flashlights over the foyer. Burns marred the walls, and black ooze dripped from the moldy ceiling. Hanging over the grand staircase to the upper floor was a magnificent portrait. It depicted a woman, pretty and pale, with pitch black hair and equally dark eyes. She was dressed in the style of the 1840s, around when the house was built. As well-preserved as the portrait was, it was leaking black ooze far more steadily than anywhere else in the room, leaving the upstairs inaccessible unless you wanted to end up drenched.
On either side of the staircase were double doors, left ajar, almost as if to lure in any visitors. The room beyond was a grand library, with shelves still stuffed to the brim with books. The duo exchanged a glance, asking a silent question. Should they go in there first?
Hecuba was the first to speak up. “If the reports are true, the window the figure was looking out of was in the library.” She paused, almost hesitating to continue. “And the fire supposedly started in there.”
At the mention of the fire, a breeze stirred the still room. If they strained their ears, they could hear something akin to angry whispers under the wind. But neither of them took any notice, silently agreeing that their investigation would start in the library.
As they moved, Hecuba glared up at the portrait, looking unnerved. “I know it’s probably just because I’m expecting something weird to happen,” she started, “but I am convinced that those eyes are following me.”
“Like the Mona Lisa?” Albion quipped, a soft grin on their face. Ever the level-headed one, they were obviously trying to lighten the mood.
“Yes, Albion, like the Mona Lisa.” Hecuba laughed, a sound that was solidly out of place as they entered the library. The walls nearly seemed to cringe away from the noise. The house itself felt alive. It didn’t necessarily feel malicious, but more… grumpy, like a toddler woken up too early.
The library was perhaps the largest room in the house. It was two stories tall, with shelves packed into every inch of wall-space. Many of the books were rotting, and just as many were burned and charred. A pile of books, furniture, and fabric was heaped against one wall, clearly the place where the fire started. Though the rest of the library floor was mostly clear, one table was still upright, surrounded by chairs.
Upon closer inspection, there was something on the table. A thick tome, one of the few intact books in the room, was laid next to several neatly labeled audio recorders. The pair exchanged an excited look. From the stories they’d been told, the group that had last come through these doors were paranormal investigators. They’d been visiting to gather evidence for a report on the house, but it had never been published, and the townsfolk suspected that they’d even left some of their equipment behind at the house.
The duo had struck the jackpot. Even if the recordings were lacking or corrupted, they would still have more information than anyone else in the town. Settling down in one of the chairs, Hecuba reached for the book. To her surprise, it was still dripping with ink. As Albion sat next to her, she flipped open the book and began to read aloud.
It was just after the summer solstice when they came. They were five in number, experienced in the world of the paranormal. Many had come before them, but none had their knowledge. They were well-prepared; but nothing they could’ve done would have changed what was to come.
The first of their number was a young man named Elio MacMorrow. He was their leader, however unofficial it was, and the one they could all fall back on when things were rough. The second was Onyx Martin, Elio’s second-in-command. He was still skeptical of the supernatural, despite the things they’d seen. He had no idea that this house would be the one to destroy that skeptical nature. The third and fourth were siblings, Elias and Lucia Anglés. Elias was a medium, capable of speaking with those who had passed on. Lucia was the least experienced of the group, but the most eager to learn and study the histories of the places they visited. The last of their number was Aven Kinnerk, a psychic. They were one who rarely used their supernatural abilities, being a bit of a skeptic themself, but a powerful one nonetheless. And they would be the first to fall.
The group had been carrying audio recorders on them as they explored the house. Aven had gone off on their own one morning, and when they weren’t back by lunch, the others had started to get nervous. They scoured the house, finding nearly no sign of their missing friend, save for an audio recorder they’d been carrying. It was dropped haphazardly in a pool of black ooze, and the story it told was the first sign that something was very wrong here.
The beginning of the recording was just static, uncomfortably loud. It finally cleared after a few long moments, giving way to a voice telling a story from years ago. The sound glitched and skipped every so often, but there wasn’t too much lost.
“...Went off on my own today. I know Onyx said not to, but hey. It’s not like I’m gonna get eaten or something.” Aven laughed, and the sound of a door being pushed open followed. “Really, the creepiest thing about this place is the ooze. It’s gross. Lucia stuck a finger in it yesterday, and it’s like slime. Elio called it ectoplasm, but I think he’s full of–”
They were cut off by a loud crash, as if something had fallen off a shelf. Aven made an interested noise, and their footsteps continued, the floorboards creaking with every movement. “Ooo, okay. It’s more… ooze-y through here. This looks like… bedrooms? Hang on.”
Another door opened, the hinges groaning in protest. There was a mutter of “hm, gross” before Aven started addressing the recording device again. “This is definitely a bedroom. A gross, ooze covered bedroom, but a bedroom nonetheless. The sheets and stuff are in… surprisingly good condition. The house has been abandoned for what, like, a century? I’d expect all this stuff to be rotted or stolen.”
A sound like trickling water had been steadily growing louder as they’d entered the bedroom, but it suddenly grew into almost a roar. The next few moments were a cacophony of sounds. The door slammed shut, and unnatural laughter started to echo through the room. The voice that spoke next was stilted, as if whatever was speaking hadn’t quite mastered the sound of human speech.
“Is there a little rat in my home?” The static made it almost unintelligible for a moment, before clearing out after another bout of laughter. “Have you not learned your manners? Or shall I teach them to you instead?”
“Nope! No thanks, all good.” Aven’s footsteps retreated, but their tugs at the door were futile. “Of course it’s locked,” they grumbled, still trying to get it open. “I’m in a horror movie. I literally did the typical horror movie first-to-die thing.” With a groan, they gave up on the door, their shoes squeaking as they turned back around. They let out a heavy sigh, muttering to themself before continuing. “Ooze creature. Right. It’s all black, the eyes are glowing, it is approaching me with presumably malicious intent. If I don’t end up dying, you all owe me fifty bucks.”
Their laughter sounded a little more hysterical than before. “God, we never should have come here.” The recording device clattered to the floor at the same time as the sound of Aven’s back hitting the wall. There was a shriek that sounded like it had been torn from them, before jagged laughter began.
“That will teach them…” The voice was echoing and unnatural, with only a hint of Aven’s voice beneath. “But I suppose I’ll have to teach the rest, too…”
The recording device clicked off.
They were more careful after Aven’s disappearance. But the house still seemed determined to teach them a lesson. The winding hallways seemed to become a maze, leading them in circles. Rooms apparently vanished and moved, appearing in places that made no sense. And the ooze flowed from the walls wherever they went, making most of their investigations short lived.
Things came to a head when both Lucia and Elias vanished. They'd been seeing just how far they could delve into the house before it spat them back out at the entrance, but instead, it swallowed them up. In Onyx and Elio’s search for them, they encountered what had become of their friends, but not before finding the audio recordings they had left behind.
The recording crackled to life, a soft murmur of “is it on?” cutting through the bursts of static. After a moment, a voice spoke.
“Hm, okay. Elias here. Luci and I got separated.” He sighed, his footsteps making the floor creak and groan. “It was like a wall came up between us. I’ve been hearing the ghost laughing for most of the time that we’ve been here, but it definitely thought that was funny.”
There was a loud groan, followed by the grinding sound of stone on stone. The acoustics of the recording changed, sounding like it was now in a much larger room. Elias’ confusion was almost audible.
“...So. The hallway in front of me just changed. Like, right in front of my eyes. It hasn’t been that… blatant before.” There was a pause, followed by another sigh and a short laugh. “This is definitely a trap. But, uh, there’s no longer any hallway behind me, so I guess I’m going in the trap.”
The recording was silent for a while, save for the sound of footsteps and the occasional groan of the house. Soon enough, though, distant laughter could be heard. The footsteps stopped as Elias strained his ears to hear.
“If one of you finds this recording,” he started, “tell me if that sounds like Aven. It does, right?” He took a few more steps, bringing the recorder closer to the sound. It was, in fact, the same jagged laughter that Aven had let out when they were caught.
As the footsteps resumed, Elias huffed out a laugh. “I am so, so very screwed. Walking towards my imminent… not demise, but possession, probably.” Whatever he was about to say next was cut off by a door being flung open, and the awful laughter sounding closer than ever.
“Hasn’t anyone taught you to keep your voice down?” The echoing voice sounded even louder in the wide halls, filling the room. “Or do all of you lack manners?”
Elias gagged, nearly losing his grip on the recorder. “You smell like fifty years of rot, Jesus Christ.” He wasn’t moving anymore, but the sound of footsteps continued. “What do you want from me?” After a pause, he continued. “Scratch that, actually, what do you want from Aven?”
There was a heavy silence for a moment, seeming to stretch on for an eternity. A soft voice broke it. “Eli?” Aven’s voice was shaky, with hints of an echo creeping in at the edges. “You need to run.”
“Hey, no.” Elias’ voice softened as he took a few steps forward. “C’mon, we can get out of here.”
“We–” Aven coughed, the oppressive echo returning. “You cannot do anything,” the creature snarled, Aven’s familiar voice all but drowned out. “You are foolish to think you could fight back against me.”
There was a sound of something sweeping through the air, followed by the sickening sound of a body hitting the ground. Elias grunted in pain, the recording device falling off to the side. The last thing that could be heard was his voice, starting to demand “let me go!” before the recording clicked off.
The third recording started almost immediately. “Lucia here,” she said softly. Her voice was clear, but there was a shake sneaking into it. “Eli and I got separated. I think… I think the house did it on purpose. He kept hearing the ghost laugh before we got separated, so… uh oh!” She laughed, but it was nervous, echoing too much through the hallway. In the distance, a shout could be heard, and feet twisted on the floor as Lucia whipped around.
After a moment of silence, she hummed. “Hm! Don’t like that!” She took a deep breath, her footsteps continuing. “It’s fine. It’s okay. I’m going to be fine.” Her voice was forceful, as if demanding it from the universe. “I think time passes weird here. Like, we have evidence, since it’s always a significantly different time when we get out, but… I think that’s on purpose too. I don’t know, I think something happened. I think I lost time.”
She sighed, her footsteps stopping. “This is why I should wear a watch.” A strange stretching sound echoed through the hall, almost sounding like a cartoon. “Uh. Okay. A door just stretched the wall open. This feels like a joke.” She huffed, shaking her head. “Fine. Yeah, yeah, I’ll do what you want. Stop oozing at me.” Her footsteps resumed, and the heavy creaking of the door was nearly enough to make the recording dissolve into static.
The silence was deafening, before Lucia spoke, her voice wavering. “Elias?”
A horrid snapping sound rang out, like bones being moved too quickly. “Sister.” The voice was distinctly wrong, like a terrible imitation of Lucia’s older brother. “How kind of you to visit.”
“So this is what happens to people the house takes.” Lucia sounded resigned, a hint of anger in her voice. “Eli’s… dripping with ooze. It’s gross. It’s coming out of his eyes, mouth, nose, ears, whatever. He’s going to complain when we get him back. I can’t imagine it tastes any good.” She laughed, a surprisingly genuine sound. “Can’t imagine I’m going to enjoy it. It’s okay. I trust you guys to make sure everything works out.”
“Oh? Giving yourself willingly?” The creature in Elias’ body sounded surprised. “Not many do…”
“I trust you, Eli. Even if you’re not fully in control, I doubt you’d let anything hurt me.” Lucia stood her ground. “And you, creature, you know my brother would kill you from the inside out if you did anything to hurt me.”
“Luci…” Elias’ voice was momentarily clear. “You shouldn’t… It’s not safe.” The floorboards creaked again, but it sounded like he was moving further away.
“We both know it’s not going to let me go. The boys are smart. They’ll get this figured out.” Lucia sighed. “Now c’mon. I’m ready.”
The recording clicked off.
The creature that had been Elias found Elio and Onyx first, nearly chasing them out of the house. With three people under its control, the house seemed to be more defensive now, preferring to keep them out than drag them in. With a voice that was barely familiar, it had demanded that they leave, nails digging into the walls and leaving streaks of black ooze behind.
Later that day, they ran into what had become of Lucia. She guided them away from the deeper parts of the house, shaking her head and croaking out that it was too dangerous in the current state. She had pressed her hands into theirs for a long moment, nodding to them, before returning back to wandering the halls.
The plan they concocted was… terrible, frankly, but absurd enough to work. Elio had laughed hysterically over the idea when Onyx had suggested it, but they ended up settling on it after all. And so, the next day found them having a picnic in the entry hall of the house.
“–turning on one of the recording devices. Elio heard footsteps.” Onyx’s deep voice was the first thing the audio picked up. “Honestly, I’m surprised none of them have come by yet. He keeps making awful jokes and laughing at them. The house doesn’t like laughter.”
“My jokes are perfect, excuse you!” Elio’s voice rang out, bouncing off the high walls. “Besides, the point is to make the house decide it needs to throw something at us. What better than the one thing it clearly hates?”
Onyx huffed, muttering “you’re insane” under his breath. Footsteps suddenly became clear, and there was a moment of silence, only broken by soft breathing.
“Luci!” Elio called, a grin in his voice. “You look awful! Come, sit.” He patted the picnic blanket, far too eager for the situation they were in.
The footsteps resumed, and someone sat down heavily. “You should leave,” Lucia responded, the unnatural echo in her voice sounding even stranger on the recording.
“And leave you out of the party? I don’t think so.” Elio hummed, rummaging around for something. “Ah! Here, I brought a scrapbook! Take a look.”
Onyx sighed. “I thought you were joking about the scrapbook. When did you even make that?”
“I never joke about scrapbooks,” Elio replied, his voice deadly serious. “And I’ve been working on it here and there! All of our best adventures.” He shifted closer to what might have been Lucia. “See, there’s the time a ghost tried to beat Eli with a book, and the time Onyx actually got beat with a book…”
The conversation went on like that for a while, Elio and Onyx commenting on the pictures while Lucia sat silently. After one of Elio’s terrible jokes, the silence was broken by a weak giggle.
“That was awful. Why would you say that.” Lucia sounded exhausted, but her voice was her own again. The silence returned for a moment, before she let out a heavy sigh. “Did you just kick the ghost out of my head with scrapbooks and awful jokes?”
“I told you it would work.” Onyx sounded smug, fabric shifting as he crossed his arms.
“You suggested the picnic. My jokes and scrapbooking skills are what really won, mister.” Elio laughed, fabric shifting as he wrapped Lucia in a hug. “C’mon, little light. We’ve still got two more people to rescue.”
The recording device clicked off.
With their duo now back to a trio, the three moved onto their next target: Elias. Lucia’s memories during her possession were… unreliable, at best, but she was sure that the creature had been significantly more reckless with Elias than she or Aven. Even in the first few moments, when he had come after her, the sound of snapping bones had been alarming.
The few encounters they had with Elias in their next trips into the house showed just how badly he’d been thrown around. The creature inhabiting his body attempted to chase Onyx with a limp, dragging leg. It tried to drag itself along the wall, but Elias’ fingers were bloody and bruised, with nails nearly torn away. When Lucia tried to get close, it screamed at her, but blood splattered its lips.
The plan was barely a plan at all, but none of them could bear to see their friend in such a state. Their next trip into the house was one armed with a first aid kit, food, recording devices, and a determination to bring their friend home safe.
“You think he’s in there?” Elio’s voice was soft as the device turned on, as if he was hiding. The sound of feet and fabric shuffling was all that there was for a moment, before Lucia spoke up.
“If my memory is right, this was where it would dump him when it didn’t have him wandering around. And we haven’t seen him, so…” She trailed off, hesitant footsteps moving away from the device. A door creaked open, and a quiet gasp followed. “Oh, he looks like a ragdoll…”
The footsteps resumed, soon sounding like they were in a much smaller room. “I don’t think there’s anyone home in there,” Onyx muttered, groaning as he crouched down with a crackle of joints. “Definitely has a broken leg, though. And I wouldn’t be surprised if his fingers were broken, too.”
Elio hummed in agreement, shifting the recording device between his hands. “I absolutely hate that he’s just… dripping ooze. It’s like a broken faucet. Disgusting.”
“Tastes bad too.” Lucia sounded to be down next to Onyx, the soft sound of someone rummaging through a bag following her voice. There was silence for a moment, before she continued. “Setting his leg will probably get… someone home. Hopefully him, but we should be prepared for anything.”
“Got it.” Onyx shifted and settled, taking a deep breath. “Okay, here goes nothing. Three, two–”
There was a cacophony of noise that followed. A crack, a shout, the sound of someone hitting the wall, and a groan of pain. For the next few moments, all there was was labored breathing, paired with someone cursing through their teeth.
“What is wrong with you!” Elias’ voice was loud and strained. “Can’t you–” He cut himself off with a gag and a wet cough. Something splattered against the floor as he heaved. After a few seconds of coughing and heaving, he groaned, leaning back against the wall with a thud.
“Are you alright?” Lucia asked softly. “That goes for both of you! Onyx, did you break anything?”
Onyx spoke first. “I’m fine, just wasn’t expecting to be thrown across the room.” He grunted, getting to his feet with a creak of the floorboards. “Ow, by the way.”
Elio’s snort was followed by Elias speaking. “How did I get here? Last thing I remember, I was–” He trailed off, his realization dropping the room into silence. “Oh. Ghost, possession, right. Why is my leg broken?”
“Ghost broke it.” Elio piped up, something playful to his tone. “Seriously, though, that thing has been throwing you around like a doll. We’re lucky you only have a broken leg.”
“Awesome.” Elias’ mutter was somewhat bitter, obviously annoyed with the state he’d been left in. “Do you think the ghost will possess me again if I vomit on its rug.”
“Hopefully not, but I might hit you if you vomit on me!” Lucia’s voice had a smile in it. Fabric shifted, and Elias let out a huff as she squeezed him in a hug. “Come on, let’s get your leg set and get out of here.”
The recording clicked off.
The final hurdle seemed to be the biggest. With no sign of Aven anywhere in the house, getting the remaining member of their group back was shaping up to be near-impossible. The last time they had seen any sign of the psychic was when Elias had gotten possessed, and that had been nearly a week before. Their psychic abilities were surely part of why the creature kept them out of their hands so well– it could predict when they would be coming for them.
But the desperate straits the group had forced the creature into seemed to call for desperate measures. The final confrontation was not one they had expected, but it was one they were determined to win…
“Get the– do you– okay, good, thank god.” Elias’ voice was hurried and hushed, urgency clear in his voice. “Okay, we have this in the bag. Right.” His tone allowed for no argument, but there was a hint of doubt behind his words.
Elio’s voice picked up where he left off. “Aven is right in the library. It’s definitely a setup, but… we’re going for it anyway. It might be one of our only chances.” The worry in the room was practically audible, but with several deep breaths from the group, the final event began.
The moment they stepped into the library, the echoing giggles began. “It’s so sweet of you all to finally vi-sit.” The voice that was barely Aven’s fluctuated as it spoke, sounding terribly unnatural. Heavy footsteps approached, uneven and unsteady. It seemed that, even after all this time, the creature was still unused to moving the bodies of its hosts.
“Aven.” Onyx’s voice was firm. “I know you’re still in there. This thing has to be weaker after having lost Luci and Eli. You can overpower it.”
The creature snarled, giggling still echoing behind its voice. “They could not possibly throw me off,” it crowed, its unnatural smile tainting its voice. “My power is terrible, too much to–”
It was cut off by a ragged cough, the giggling starting to wane. Lucia took a chance, her footsteps moving away. “You can do it. It’s just talking big, you know that.” Her voice was soft and soothing, doing her best to reassure whatever part of Aven could hear them.
“Luci…” It sounded confused for a brief moment, before snarling again. “Get a-way, you–!” There was a thud as it stomped its foot, sounding more like a petulant child than the intimidating spirit it seemed to be.
“You’re losing. You know that.” Elio’s footsteps moved forward, fighting to keep a waver out of his voice. “C’mon, Aven, you got this.”
“Leave!” The creature snapped, the sound of hands slamming on a table echoing through the room. “You can go without them! I cannot–” It let out a wheezing breath, strain creeping into its voice.
“You leave.” There was a force to Elias’ voice that seemed to clear the air. “It’s long past the time for you to move on. You can rest. And you should not torment others to take out your fury at being left behind.”
Stumbling footsteps backed away, the sound of a back hitting the bookshelves echoing strangely. “You cannot– it’s impossible–” It broke off again with a cough, the hacking only getting worse. “No, no, you don’t–”
With an unearthly howl, the recording dissolved into static. When the sound cleared, footsteps and rushed talking made things still unintelligible.
There was a brief moment of silence, before Aven’s long-missed voice spoke. “Y’all owe me fifty bucks. Each.”
Aven’s rescue had left behind something unusual: a strange statue formed from solid ooze, depicting the woman whose portrait hung over the stairs. Stood in the library, facing out from where the creature had last had any control over Aven’s body, she watched the room with a dull gaze. Even with the creature gone, hiding away in some dark corner of the manor, the statue still seemed to hold the same malicious aura.
In the final few days the group spent around the house, the statue started to melt, the woman’s face twisting into a disturbing sneer. Though they had all agreed to stay far out of the room, Aven returned in the last few hours they were there.
In a final defiance, they heaped chairs, tables, books, and papers around the statue. With a few matches, they lit the ring of kindling alight, leaving it to burn. And on the lone table left upright, they left the recording devices.
All that remained, a bleak warning to anyone else who might cross the rotting threshold of the house.
The bar was the only place in the city where heroes and villains could both go to without fear of being attacked by their enemies. Not because they formed a truce or anything like that, but because they all feared the Bartender more than they hated each other.
Welcome to my writing sideblog! I’m Ace, and I’ve stolen the Curaxu brand for myself. If you remember the original Curaxu, you deserve a veteran’s discount, and you’re allowed to gently bully me over this seemingly undying hyperfixation.
Speaking of undying! The main focus of this blog will likely be on the world of NEW RIVIERA, a fictional southern Californian city filled with criminals who can’t seem to stay dead. They always come back, blessed (or perhaps cursed) with a mutation that makes them UNDYINGS.
This world has a bunch of lore, and it’s often a collaborative effort, given that much of it developed through a roleplay server! It’s very close to my heart, and I can’t wait to share it more! ^v^
