» Fri May 13, 2011 3:15 pm TESCPC
The Elder Scrolls Creepy Pasta Collection
Hunter
Somewhere deep in the Great Forest, a hunter made his way through the thicket of trees and underbrush. He had been walking for hours, and the sun was getting low in the sky. As it grew dark, and he could no longer discern shadows from threats, the hunter began to fear for his life. He heard strange noises in the night; odd chirping sounds and rapid shuffling noises, as if something was running towards him. The sounds got louder and louder still, but whenever it appeared that something was right beside him, the noise would vanish and begin again shortly.
He grew paranoid and frequently looked about, clutching his bow tightly with one hand, his other on the knife at his waist. At one point he thought he saw a robed man, with a hood covering his face, sprint past the trees beside him. He called out to them, but only silence responded. As the time passed, he saw what appeared to be a large group of robed people, carrying torches and chanting. Again, they disappeared as soon as he blinked.
Finally, the hunter decided to flee for his life. He ran through the thicket, and he heard the leaves rustle behind him, as if someone were following him. The voices got louder, they were practically screaming at him now. He silently begged for his life to some unknown force, and, as if granting his wish, the hunter stumbled out into a wide field, a small cabin in the dead center.
As the hunter bust in through the front door, the voices and strange sounds suddenly died away. Relieved, he collapsed onto a bed in the corner. He would have to thank the owner in the morning, if they returned. Looking about the dark cabin, he saw many paintings lining the walls. They were very disconcerting in the fact that each painting had a distorted, hideous face looking down on him. Each face had a strange protrusion from their nose down to their lips, almost like a beak of some kind. Their cold, black eyes all seemed to center on him and only him.
They were only paintings, he thought, and soon he drifted into a sleep plagued with nightmares. When he awoke, he found the building to be devoid of any paintings---it had only windows.
Priscilla
The long week of exams had finally ended, and no longer did Priscilla have to visit the Arcane University. She would have a week off from her magical studies, and so she decided to try and spend some time with her friends. She was dismayed to find that none of her friends were available, they were all busy with their families or their extended studies. Well, that wasn't entirely true, she thought. There was Thorin. He was available. Thorin was always available. But something about that pale, bony wood elf heavily disturbed Priscilla.
The way he spoke, how he always seemed to put emphasis on certain words, an effect he thought dramatic or humorous, but one that ultimately frightened anyone he spoke to. Or maybe the way he handled things. During several of the classes Priscilla had with Thorin, she would often see him examine the mundane objects given to them in a very reverent---but startling---way. He would roll the objects around in his palm, feeling them with his skeleton-like fingers, as if it told him more about the item in question. Then there was the case of his teeth. They were pointed, much like one imagine a vampires teeth to be. They were also discolored, a sickening brownish hue. These traits, coupled with his ever-so-apparent awkwardness and mysteriousness, made Thorin one of the most disliked people in the university.
But, in the end, Priscilla had two options. She could help her family build their new cottage outside of the Imperial City, which would take up practically her entire vacation, or spend some time with Thorin. Who knows, maybe he wouldn't be so bad, maybe she would learn something about him.
On the day Priscilla asked Thorin if they could spend some time together, he immediately took it as a romantic request. Priscilla hastily added it was merely for studying, though she wished she hadn't---the whole reason of her vacation was to get away from work.
Nonetheless, she would not stand him up. Priscilla prided herself on her kindness. And so Priscilla spent the night at Thorin's, and she indeed did learn much about him. He was eccentric, yes, sometimes maddeningly so, but in a way that almost intrigued Priscilla. Following that night, she went to his home each and every night. Soon Priscilla's friends became worried, and asked her to join them for dinner one night.
Priscilla immediately, almost furiously, told them that she had important business at Thorin's. Her friends grew even more concerned, and soon contacted the authorities. On a dark and quiet night, a group of Legion watch guards approached the Thorin's residence. From the outside it appeared run-down, almost ruined. The wooden steps leading up to the door were rotten, and the door itself was cracked in many places.
It was a surprise to the guards (who weren't normally stationed in that part of the City) that such a nice home (as they had been told) had fallen into such disrepair. As they entered the dimly lit abode, they found the entry room to be empty, save for a black book laying in the center of the room. The captain of the watch picked the book up and examined it. It was old and the pages were ripped and torn, and the spine was tattered. But what caught his interest was the intricate set of red, rune-like markings covering the front of the book, as well as its many pages. He handed the book to another guard, and headed up to the second floor of the home.
Again, this room was empty. No furniture. No windows. No Thorin. As the captain neared the center of the room, something splashed on the floor to his right. He bent down and gathered some on his gloved finger, and peered at it closely. It was some kind of liquid substance, but he could not identify the color in the darkness.
As the captain made his way to the third floor, he feared for the worst. Upon reaching the top of the stairs, he stood in horror at what lay before him.
Thorin hung from the ceiling, dozens of thin wires attached to his arms and legs. He torso down had been precisely cut in twine, the skin flayed open to display the pulsing organs and alabaster bones within. A complete vivisection.
Several of the guards splattered the floors with vomit, but something else had caught the captain's attention. The organs were pulsing. He was still alive. Before anything could be done by the guards (most of which were still recovering from releasing their bowels) someone spoke from behind them. The captain turned to see a young woman dressed in a black robe, carrying a silver platter topped with various cutting and sawing utensils.
"Oh I learned a lot about Thorin," she said, her lips twisting into a wicked curve.
