Can you scare me?

[FluffleButter]

With any RP site, there lies a tonne of crazies and psychos hidden in every dark corner.

So here's a challenge to all you psychopaths and Tea-drinkers. Write something about yourself, or a piece that clearly shows that you have at least a few screws loose.


Keep your submission in a spoilers tab if you're embarassed. The more your piece makes me want to run for the hills, the higher the score.

To all you normies

Take a look at whatever these self-proclaimed crazies create, and write something that can convince everyone else that you are 100% mentally sane.

 

[Astaroth]

Cool challenge, but this belongs over thisaways! *Yoinks*

 

[Ringmaster]

The Tale of the Wendigo

Have you heard the story of the Wendigo? Nowadays, it appears to be a popular monstrosity from Native American lore. The story begins as always, with three friends on a journey. Three brothers, if not in blood then at least in bond. They have broken bread together, swapped stories and now leave on an adventure, after swearing oaths that they will be together, no matter what. And so, little suspecting we watch them head away onto their journey.

Disaster strikes.

As it often the case, usually in some form of barrier. A snowstorm covers the land and our heroes require shelter. They do so and decide to wait out the snow, for fear of freezing. Water is no problem, but hunger? Oh, hunger is an entirely different story. Have you ever felt what it truly meant to be hungry and not merely interested in a snack you could grab if your feet would allow it? I have. When all weight is lost, your clothes feel like a sack and that gnawing feeling grows. You stay lethargic to conserve energy, precious energy and to avoid that feeling. But your body knows what it wants. 'Feed me' it says, but the cupboard is bare and not even a bone to gnaw on.

But you do have two friends.

Comrades-in-suffering, you watch each other die slowly. Your features grow gaunt as the fat reserves are absorbed within the system. You begin to resemble skeletons with crudely painted on skin, less then scarecrows. More then a little ghoulish and if you could see yourselves, you'd faint. Its hard not to think of food. Crispy, herbal fried chicken and mashed potatoes. A savory pot roast in a red-wine sauce. A honey glazed beef specialty, over rice. Meat that falls off the bone.

When was the last time you ate?

The paranoia sets in now. You notice your friends are whispering more quietly to each other, leaving you out. Why? What are they hiding from you? Perhaps some morsel of food, the cold rationality forcing them to keep it from you? One less mouth to feed and all the more for them. A reprieve, even if only for a moment seems like ambrosia. A paradise to the perpetually suffering and as you suffer, you begin to think...Why should they hold out on you? Aren't we all friends? Didn't we all swear oaths before each other, before coming out on this journey? Traitors. False friends. Liars and cheats, all seeking to kill you by slow degrees instead of all at once, like a man. You no longer have the storm to kill you. Now there are two more enemies. Two more who'd like nothing more then to kill you off, that they may live.

Not if I could help it.

They sleep. All of us sleep more often. Far better to die in your sleep then awake, a small mercy and a way to not waste energy. But there is no sleep tonight. Not for you. Not for me. This is our chance now. The perfect opportunity to go ahead and live. The pain is agonizing as you stand, but your life is in the balance. You can barely afford to falter. There's an axe handle without the hatchet head, all the better. You couldn't lift it if you tried, but you could manage this. Slowly, the handle drags across the floor. They remain asleep, the fools. Its more then they deserve. I remember that night, the wind howling outside the shelter. A guttural, primal howl lost in the wasteland of white. Is it from me, or is it the wind? I can barely recall anything anymore, save one thing.

It was incredibly easy.

And now I walk the streets of man. I am well fed and back to my ponderous state. My friends are honored for their sacrifice, lost in the snow whilst seeking me out. But as I walk and all alone in a crowd, I think about the Wendigo within me. I think about that dark spirit that hunts among the race I have created a crevasse between. I count the portions, weigh my options and ever so often, chat up with one of these people before inviting them to dinner. I remember the Wendigo well enough.

And he will never be sated.​

 

[Michale CS]

It wasn't long before she was so deep asleep that dreams would come to her. And, all of her fears over the past few days would manifest in this one.

The battlefield was littered. Rin stood, a titan among men, a wizard among idiots. A cultist leaped at her, crazed look in his eyes, ceremonial dagger streaking down for her. A hand was raised and he froze in place, held there by telekinetic might. She could crush him, but that was too easy. Too fast. With a wicked grin, Rin traced an emotion Kanji, the one for despair. And not a temporary one either. She branded the man on his forehead. As long as he lived, he would feel nothing but deep despair. Rin tossed him aside, then crushed his hands and feet, so he wouldn't be able to effectively suicide unless he worked really hard at it.

“Who's next?” She strode forward, the keyring at her side. Lucy had died in this fight, and there was nothing she wouldn't do to exact her vengeance. A strange, tentacled beast emerged from the sidelines suddenly, nearly twenty feet tall, its form amorphous, indefinable, a thing of pure Chaos. With a wicked grin, Rin grew to her full height of thirty five feet, dwarfing the thing.

"“Telekinesis!"” She boomed, reaffirming her spell, empowering it, and hefted the thing into the air. It struggled, twitched, sent tendrils her way but they were ripped off like petals off of a flower in response. Little by little, the cultists watched in abject terror as the creature they had summoned to reign destruction down upon the world was slowly flayed apart by Rin's power. Finally, she released the remaining mass, sending it crashing down on top of a group of cowering opponents.

There was nothing left, Nothing living anywhere in her sight. But she tasted the sour milk flavor of it. Fear. An opponent still lived. The cultist was her age, and she stood there, shaky ceremonial dagger held out, shaking. Then she dropped it, and bent down to worship her new goddess.

But Rin would have none of it. An immense foot came down, hard, and it was over as she was crushed beneath Rin's heel. “
"Isn't that what you want? ISN'T IT? To die underneath your God's feet?!”" She sent out an omni-directional blast of power, wiping everything from around her for at least twenty yards in every direction. Then, she lost her height, all of it, and was in the center, less than a foot tall. A scared, angry little girl with the power of a goddess.

And she despaired.