[artemis,]

res

[c o r r i o n a.]

username: w h i t e. b o y
kalon name: Obsidian Gloom
gender: female
spooky story:
Kamper ; Pip | Story Teller ; Obsidian Gloom

dust swept up with every step, a fire wildly played not too far, you could hear slight whispers creeping chills down your back. The night sky was dazzled without a cloud in sight, the mother moon resting in her place embracing her light. As you near closer to the flames you come apon a Kamper unlike the others, resting herself apon one of the log benches. She seemed to of have a glow to her, like the moon but perfectly blended in with the night & all that surrounded her. Ghostly is what she looked but friendly to say the least. Nearing closer & closer you could see more clearly, she had a black kamp shirt on with the lettering bright white makin her eyes stand out. But her eyes, you stand in awe, so pure, so beautiful, they were like crystals.

extra art piece:

Wip

[cherrydoge]

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username: cherrydoge

kalon name: Uilani
Means "heavenly beauty" or "royal beauty" from Hawaiian u'i "youth, beauty" and lani "heaven, sky, royal, majesty".

gender: male

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What's the story?

Enrico heard the soft crackling of fire in the distance, his ears straining to hear the far off noise. Heading in the direction of the sound, he came to a halt once he found the source of the sound. Sitting before the flames was a Kalon, arm on his knee, kneeling over the flame, tossing small sticks to feed the fire. He glanced up at Enrico, giving a mischievous smirk and motioned for him to sit down. Reluctantly, he sat down next to the stranger.

“In the mood for a ghost story?” His voice was deep and rich. It glided smoothly through the air. It was almost comforting. “My name is Uilani. You are Enrico, yes? I’ve seen you around the Kamp.”

The feeling that he’d already jumped into the deep end engulfed Enrico. With nothing to lose, he nodded. He prayed he wouldn’t suffocate.

The stranger ran his fingers through his hair, flipping it out of his face and looking at Enrico with intrigue. His pearl white eyes that shined brightly with knowledge that few knew flickered over Enrico. “Are you familiar with the huaka'i pō?”

Enrico shook his head.

“Ah, I am not surprised. . . The huaka'i pō, or the Nightmarchers, are a group of spiritual warriors that march through the lands of Hawaii. They have become familiar to me. Let me tell you a story. . .”

Daytime flew by like a bird on the island of Oahu. The sound of the waves crashing upon the shore a comforting, familiar sound to Uilani during restless nights when he’d visit the beach to clear his mind. The sky was a deep, rich orange with dark clouds dotting the skyline, as if someone had grabbed a paintbrush and dragged the puffy clouds across the sky. Night was approaching, as was its inhabitants.

Uilani sat on the sand, eyes closed and grabbing fistfuls of sand and letting it fall to the ground. Feeling it move freely in his hand, focusing on every grain that slipped through the gaps of his fingers, feeling the texture of each individually. A content sigh escaped his lips. His free hand ran through his hair. His ears twitched, someone’s dog was barking from afar. Opening his eyes, he scanned the beach to see if one of his neighbors dogs had escaped from the yard. The barking gradually intensified, the number of dogs increasing by the minute. Drums being beat, sounding throughout the beach. Rhythmically, the same pattern over and over to announce the arrival of unexpected guests.

Sweeping his gaze across the land, he saw nothing that hinted toward the direction of the sound. Behind him, he glanced at the houses. The lights were turned off and there we no sign of anyone in it. Chanting began, and Uilani’s blood ran cold as he soon realized what was happening. Adrenaline began to pump through his veins, his heart thumping wildly in his chest, matching up with the large vibrations of the drums.

The huaka'i pō had come, they would soon rise out of the ocean to go to one of their ancient battle sites. He panicked, the doors of the homes behind him would surely be locked. If he showed no respect to the spirits, or saw their chief, he would surely be stricken down where he sat. Chills ran down his spine, his hands shaking. He did not want to die here. No, he was just a boy. . .

He's heard too many tales of those who have fallen due to the Nightmarchers, and Uilani did not want to become apart of the stories told to young kits
Spotting the Nightmarchers emerging from the sea, their drums banging and war dogs barking and snarling with animosity. The warriors were dressed for battles, their spears and clubs readied to strike down anyone who dared to challenge them or gaze upon them. Uilani was awestruck, almost unable to realize the danger he was in and move to keep himself alive.
Moving slowly so the fierce warriors did not notice him, he lay face down on the ground, unmoving to show respect to the ancient, proud warriors. They marched from the beach into the neighborhood where he lived, their chanting echoing throughout his ears. Unknowing of how long line of soldiers was, he remained face down on the sand waiting for the distant drums and marching to die down before he showed his face once more.

Uilani must remind his mother to plant ti, to ward off evil spirits, once he returned home. Slowly peeking up from his arms, he saw the warriors were gone. He scrambled to get up from the ground, running home to tell his mother what he had just seen.


Enrico could almost hear the sound of the distant drums himself, his body completely still and mind absorbed into the story.
“Remember, if you ever visit the islands of Hawaii, and you come face to face with the Nightmarchers. . . lay face down to show respect, and pray to whatever god you believe in that they do not notice you, or decide to spare you. If you have a relative in the group of warriors, you’re free. Just do not let them see you.” His deep voice rumbled in Enrico’s ears.
He glanced at Uilani, mouth agape. Uilani grinned at Enrico, before extinguishing the fire and disappearing into the dark.
Enrico swore he heard something while trying to fall asleep that night in his cabin. . .

[917 words]

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[SilentMelody]

username: silentmelody
kalon name:
gender:
spooky story: (no word limit)

[sun struck]

Wowie...;;o;

[canary.]

Marking!! This kal is beautiful!

[Chickpea]

username: CompleteChicken
kalon name: Spindle
gender:Male
spooky story: (no word limit)

You want a spooky story?...

How about the story of my life...?

extra art piece: (optional)

[rustyroxy]

username: rustyroxy
kalon name: ava? tbd
gender: female
spooky story: (no word limit)
extra art piece: (optional)

[Yuroshi]

username:
kalon name:
gender:
spooky story: (no word limit)
extra art piece: (optional)


Mark

[gasp]

username: granger
kalon name: odessa
gender: female
spooky story: the crone's readings were interrupted as the opening flap of her tent flew open, a young kamper bursting in with panic and fear evident in his actions. he quickly zipped the flap shut and sat down in the corner of the tent, wrapping his arms around his legs and burying his face into his knees. the crone quickly put her rune stones away-- the ones she had just been consulting moments before-- and stared down the boy impatiently, not saying a word or moving a hair until he slowly lifted his head and looked directly at her. then, he began to plea.

"i'm sorry. please help." the boy whispered. "i need help, please." he begged, continuing to repeat himself. the crone began to grow more and more impatient with each pathetic plea, finally interrupting him and causing him to spring back at the harshness of her voice.

"what have you done now?" she hissed angrily. the crone's old age caused her voice to crack unattractively. she appeared sickly and thin with drooping ears, her blindness evident by the lack of pupils in her eyes. still, it was clear that she was once beautiful when she had been young. in spite of her reputation of being an "ugly old hag," the colours and markings of her fur stood out and allowed her to maintain the semblance of beauty that she once had; unfortunately, time had not been kind to her as her extremely old age made her difficult to look at. it's no wonder she spent so much time hiding in the tent.

"i know you told me not to go into the woods alone, but i had no choice." he whined. "I heard them, the creatures you told me about. I swear to you I heard them. I swear I--" he spoke quickly, making it difficult for the crone to keep up.

"stupid boy. calm down or I won't help." she replied with a heavy, indistinguishable accent.

the young kamper took a few shaky breaths before composing himself and continuing, forcing himself to slow down his speech. "what are they." he whispered. "tell me about them, please."

the crone was silent for a few moments. with each passing moment, the kamper grew more and more worried that she would kick him out. finally, she spoke.

"they live in the caves. they can not hurt you." almost immediately, she was interrupted by the sound of ear-splitting howling in the distance. the sounds weren't of anything any sort of canine or feline could have made. these were entirely different creatures, their sounds like nothing any average kalon has ever heard before. the boy covered his ears and began to cry.

the crone waited for him to compose himself before she continued.

"...they can not hurt you." she resumed. "but at night, they hunt in packs above ground. so you must stay here until morning."

another howl. rain began to patter against the roof of the tent, and the kamper shivered-- partly from the cold but mostly from fear. "I want to go back to kamp." he cried. although the crone could not see, she shut her eyes and continued in spite of boy's request.

"there is a lantern behind me. go get it and turn it on." she told him. she listened to the boy scramble to the back end of the tent and turn the lantern on. she kept it there in case anybody came to her for assistance at night. truthfully, she hasn't had a visitor for years until this boy began to show up, claiming he was a kamper from a local summer kamp that she hadn't heard of. she decided she'd tell a story just scary enough to scare the boy away for good so that he wouldn't try roaming so deep into these woods ever again. as the light from the lantern illuminated the crone's face, the kamper got to take a good look at her, wincing from the teeth that were missing and the scratches that covered her muzzle.

"since they are extremely ugly and easy to spot, they often take on another form, often to trick passerbys before killing them." the crone continued. "this is how they are rumored to hunt. so you must trust no one."

at this point, the kamper's voice became extremely high-pitched. "what if they find us?"

just as the crone opened her mouth to answer, another ear-splitting howl interrupted her, this time eerily close to the tent. It was at this moment the crone's expression twisted into something else. finally, the kamper said one last thing before he abruptly stopped his whimpering.

"my family gets angry when you talk about them that way."