Astaroth

[*screaming into the void intensifies*]
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Online Availability
It varies a lot depending on my schedule, unfortunately.
Writing Levels
  1. Advanced
  2. Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Primarily Prefer Male
Genres
Psychological horror
Body horror
Supernatural
Giallo
Splatterpunk
Dark fantasy
Historical
Low fantasy
Magipunk
Weird West
Noir
Thriller
Gothic horror
Southern Gothic
Gaslamp fantasy
Cyberpunk
Space saga
Clockpunk
Space Western
Space opera
Paranormal
Modern fantasy
Dieselpunk
Post-Apocalyptic
Crime drama
Medieval fantasy
Dirt Creek is a quaint little campground at the base of the Smoky Mountains in Tennessee. It is a popular spot for camping, hiking, and fly fishing... or was, until the past five years.

Until sightings of the Devil began.

Children playing in the creek saw it first. It came at them, ferocious, waddling on its ungainly feet and snapping its serrated beak and crying its terrible cry. The children fled screaming from its hunger, but one little boy tripped and fell. The beast caught him as he lay prone and forgotten.

All they ever found of the boy was the blood.

Soon picnickers began to disappear, one by one. Couples in their tents began to see huge, awful shadows moving outside, reported hearing the terrible calling of the monster far off in the woods. Saw its red eyes gleaming like bloody gems in the dark, the beat of its wings echoing all around them. Business for the campground began to decline as the rumors spread...

Many, however, do not believe in the legends of Dirt Creek's Devil. Many still venture out to the campground to this day.

And it is camping season again.

Can you hear the Devil's cry?

HONK. HONK. HONK.



You are a visitor to Dirt Creek Campground. You have only the supplies you bring with you.

Your mission is to survive the Devil and escape the campground.

Beware the Devil of Dirt Creek.​

devilbird.png
 
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"Why would I ever want to leave this place? My overlords are here!" Devin grinned a toothy grin, his sharpened canines almost pricking his bottom lip. His prosthetic horns poked shyly out of his dark black mane between his amazingly edgy forehead tattoo. The young man had been a worshipper of the Devil for many years now, and had been through every state in look for a placed like Dirt Creek. This was going to be his new home, although he'd have to make sure other people would be unable to escape. The Devil didn't appear to like him just yet, it still ran after him in a frenzy and violently snapped its beak at Devin, but he would see to it that the beast would accept him as a worthy and faithful disciple. No matter what.
 


The overwhelming stench of smoke percolated out of the crummy-looking camper as a young woman, no older than twenty-five, stepped out of it. She had a cigarette placed between her chapped lips, and old mascara cemented all the way down to her chiseled cheeks. If it wasn't clear enough that this woman had been crying; the dried snot plastered under the woman's nose was another good indicator. She was the definition of a hot mess. Messy, mucus-colored hair, a whiskey-stained tank top, and no pants. Yeah she was a showstopper alright, but not the good kind. More like the kind that literally stop a show because they're drunk or high off their ass.

The woman's eyes narrowed as she glanced around the other campsites. Mostly tents with a few other campers - all clearly superior to her old as shit one.

"Well then," she said. Her voice was raspy and hoarse, probably from crying too much. Or maybe it was from smoking too much. Who could tell but only her. Ryan was one of those kids that started smoking and drinking at a young age, but never stopped. She was a drop-out, and honestly, a total loser. They say if you look for the word 'nihilist' in the dictionary, you'd find her picture next to the definition.

Ryan didn't care about the rumors or legends. They were all fake as shit, as far as she was concerned. Even if they were true, though, she still didn't give a fuck. This place was free of game wardens, or anyone that would catch her and her degenerate habits. So for her, this place was Heaven - if such a place even existed.
 
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Jace Logan stood stock still at the edge of the campground. His dark gaze swept the land. The demon was out there, and it was about to meet its worst nightmare. He wasn't one to put much stock in local legends, but now that he was out here looking at the aftermath of such a thing, he knew that it was going to be his job to put a stop to it. He scoffed and a crooked smile came to his lips. Yeah, he'd be the one to deal with it, alright. And then he'd be heralded a hero, not like such things mattered to him.

He tossed his cigar to the ground and stomped on it before taking two steps forward toward the carnage that laid in front of him. Blood was everywhere, and there was no sign of the campers to be found. He knelt down, ran his fingers through the dirt and then sniffed the ground. The devil wasn't too far ahead of him. He grabbed his baseball bat and swung it over his shoulder setting out further into the dangers of Dirt Creek. Would he ever return?
 
The visitors all insisted on being edgy loners, rather than interacting with fellow campers, and so the true horror was that the game master was forced to break the fourth wall briefly to inform them that they had failed to get the ball rolling.


Devin was in the grassy knoll that served as a visitor's parking lot, having just stepped out of whatever piece of garbage he'd driven to Dirt Creek. One could only assume it was an old hand-me-down paneled van, which once in his possession had been painted with some appropriately trashy piece of Devil-adjacent "artwork". You know, the sort of thing that gets one pulled over by cops who take long, pronounced sniffs at the interior of your vehicle.

As Devin waded through the sea of abandoned cars, with whatever supplies a devil-obsessed lunatic brings to a campground in the rural South, there was a flash of movement just on the other side of the knoll.

Something was moving between the cars...


Ryan was, as she'd noted, not the only person camping out this weekend. Most of the campers seemed to have gone out for the day, to hike or fish or do other such wholesome family camping activities. It was, after all, somewhat late in the morning.

But she wasn't the only late riser, either. The door of the shiny new camper across the way from hers swung open, and out stepped a young man not too much older than she was. He looked like a real city slicker: his ankle boots were leather, and didn't look like they'd been weather-proofed in the slightest, and his jet black hair looked a little too artfully arranged for genuine bedhead.

She watched him pat his pockets (and noticed the large, heavy-looking skull ring on his right hand) before looking up and meeting her eye.

"Got a smoke?" he asked. "I think my kid sister stole mine."


Jace had discovered what was left of a campsite. No bodies, just blood everywhere. It was a ways up the mountain from the RV area where Ryan was making camp, closer to the mouth of the creek.

The weirdest part--aside from the massive amounts of blood and lack of actual corpses--were the strange trinkets hanging in the trees just outside the camp. They were made of twigs and bits of coal-black feather, dangling in the lowest branches. Six little stick figures. They blended in so well that Jace nearly walked right into them.

It was while he was examining these that he heard the screaming.

"AAAAAAEIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!"

It sounded high, shrill, and as if it were coming from not too far away down the trail...
 

Ryan quirked a brow as the man asked her for a cigarette. "Yeah, I do," she responded dryly. She noted that he came out of probably the nicest camper she had seen in the campground, and that alone showed he had money -that or his family did. Great, another one of those insufferable rich cunts.

She grabbed her pack of Marlboros and looked at it momentarily "This stuff right here is intricately made with the finest of tobacco leaves - oh and it's the cheapass kind. Hope ya can stomach it, pretty boy," she snorted as she tossed the pack to him. She was definitely lacking in the hospitality department, but come on. Like she had anything to be hospitable about.

"I hate to be one of those kinds of girls but, don't try anything. I know I'm oozing with charisma and class, and just sooooooooooo irresistible, but I have a date with my precious Morgan. You can actually see him waiting for me," she cooed, which was obviously fake bullshit, but why not practice her acting skills she learned from 9th grade theatre.


"I would haaate to keep him waiting, ya know?" She pointed her index finger towards her camper. The door was propped open with a bottle of Captain Morgan's Spiced Rum.
 
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"Who says you're even remotely my type?" the man quipped back as he caught the pack of Marlboros, not batting an eyelash at Ryan's rude rejoinders. He slid a cigarette out of the cardboard casing, stuck it in his mouth, and patted at his pockets again for a moment before finding and producing a cheap Bic lighter that seemed to contrast with his otherwise rich-boy look. If Ryan squinted, she could make out a "No Smoking" emblem on the plastic case.

He flicked the striker wheel. Once, twice, three times it sparked before it finally lit, and he brought the small flame to bear at the end of what was now his cigarette.

"'Preciate it," he told her, the ember bobbing up and down as he talked. He tossed the pack back over to her. Sucking in a deep lungful of smoke, he shifted the cigarette to his hand and went on, "Before you go back to your hot date with the Captain, I don't suppose you've seen a teenage girl running around? Anime bubblegum hair, too much makeup, about yea high."

He held out his hand to the side, just about level with his own shoulder.
 
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Devin's eyes caught sight of the movement and he felt his heart move up his throat. No no, not time to be sick Devilboy. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes. With a quick look towards the most beautiful vehicle in the lot (hint: it was his) Devin crouched and moved towards the shape. If this was his overlord, he wondered, would this be like meeting his maker? How exciting!

Though as he got closer, he heard someone scream at the top of their lungs and that distracted him from the thing moving between the cars. "Damnit!!" He groaned to himself and stood straight. Without giving it further thought, Devin took out a joint from his chest pocket. It was broken down with tobacco, so he hoped the smell wouldn't get him noticed too much.

Half-baked and grumbling as he spotted a trailer going deeper into the woods, Devin left the parking lot without even looking back to whatever was moving again between the cars. A fucking kid, trying to spook him. Well, you don't go around spooking the spooker!!
 
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Jace was busy fingering the totems that he had found. They must hold some sort of clues about the devil. He had seen this part on shows that highlighted this sort of thing. He knew he needed to pay attention to everything around him, even these silly things hanging from the tree. He was lost, deep in thought when a violent scream split through the air and caused him to jump.

He whirled around and swung the bat through the air, clearly missing because nothing was behind him. His heart pounding he realized that the scream was from further away, down the trail, and he set off to find it with both hands gripping the bat for dear life.

His steps were hesitant, gone was the swagger that he had during the investigation of the last crime scene. There was actually something up ahead and the devil would not catch him unprepared. As he neared he considered calling out, but thought better of it. The devil might still be close enough that he'd get the jump on it and calling out, even to someone who was in obvious need would be stupid. Think smart, Jace told himself silently. Stay on your toes.
 
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Devin pulled the hood of his jacket over his head, hiding the prosthetic horns and his wild brown hair. He could feel someone nearby, he wasn't sure how but without the trailer in view it was difficult to know where sounds were coming from. He hurried his step down the trail, his heart beating faster as he got deeper into the woods. He wasn't scared of the Devil, or, well... He was somewhat afraid of it, but in the same way one fears their God.

Branches cracked and Devin heard some swooshing sound, like someone was swinging heavy. Breaking out of the trail, the young man jogged through the bush until he finally found what he was looking for. There was another guy, with a bat, walking through the woods as though they were about to meet their maker.

"They'd make a good sacrifice..." Devin whispered to himself before jumping out of the trees and landing behind the young man. Holding the hood over his eyes, Devin cleared his throat and introduced himself. "Mortal! Are you perhaps lost in these woods? Hmmm?"
 
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Startled, Jace turned, bat coming up at the ready. He was just about to swing, but caught himself before the bat came down. His eyes narrowed as they fixed on the person now in front of him. The question asked was as ridiculous as the man calling him mortal. Apparently he was one of those freaks that congregated around unusual happenings and claimed they were part of it. He was probably harmless. Still, Jace didn't put the bat down, in fact, his hands tightened around the grip.

"What's this then?" he asked taking a step forward, his voice not betraying the fear that he had felt only moments before. His chest was puffed out, and his elbows were wide as he readied his swing. "I'm far from lost, but you seem to be." He took another step forward. Any closer he wouldn't have room to swing the bat if need be.

Jace glanced around the man, back the way he had came. Where did this guy come from? What was with that get-up? He had so many questions but only one burned in his mind. "Were you the one out here screamin' like a little bitch? 'Cuz if not I got places to be, man." Jace puffed up his chest even more and stared down the dude in front of him.
 
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