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Your name is Hekah Strange (and yes, you've heard it all before), and you are not entirely human.

It's not a unique situation, though yours is certainly one of the more unusual cases, in a world where witches, faeries, and werewolves prowl the streets. Not that there are many of any of those things in a big city - they like suburban areas and small towns for the most part. Still, there are exceptions and those exceptions are fairly large when they happen. you're not quite any of those, but if people ask, you have to say you're a witch. It honestly solves more problems than lying would.

What you are is a changeling, daughter of some creature or another that walks in the twilight, given up and left at the doorstep of some unsuspecting couple. You're one of the lucky ones, having been placed in the care of an orphanage very quickly, even if that orphanage is a hell-hole like Edgewood. There are upsides; it being a home for the troubled youth makes it easier to get away with more, and you have a kind of affinity for the broken, the damaged, and the twisted. Living here most of your life makes you kind of the queen of the roost, with only the new, the foolish or the insane challenging you. You keep to yourself, and take care of the little ones, and you have Shaun and Shauna. All in all, you're pretty well off.

You sigh, pulling a nightgown over your head, as well as pulling on some panties, and you take a few deep, calming breaths. You try very hard to not be upset by the stupidity that goes on here. The staff means well, but like most such places they're underpaid, overworked, and this particular place has the charming ability to attract the psychos and monsters, or the criminally incompetent. Fortunately, you have ways of dealing with them....

~~~~~~~~~~~~

>Choose Three Rules To Abide By
[] Curses - Don't Call Hekah Names.
Other people can curse. You can CURSE. When you are cursed at or you curse at someone, the curses are things that actually happen. You have to abide by them, and others suffer from yours. You get called a fucking bitch, you have to channel the curse or you become a dog. (Or possibly a werewolf. You usually just stick to being a bitch to everyone.) The horny part you can usually live with. You call someone a spineless coward, they get their back broken (or worse) and become terrified of everything. It always works both ways, and what one starts the other must finish.

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[] Rhyming - Red and Black, Black and Red; Words that Spin, Around your Head.
When others learned about poetry in class, you very quickly learned that you don't do poetry. Rhyming is a means to power, and while they're not really spells, they are magical. Couplets that you speak aloud become magical effects, little bits of mischievous magic that seek out and cause trouble. While you can try and guide them, it's Wild Magic, and that makes it unpredictable. Certain charms and fairy counter-magics work against them: four leaf clovers, silver coins in a pocket, an iron nail in the shoe being worn, or turning a jacket inside out and wearing it are all ways to counter your little rhymes.

[] Rough & Tumble - Tough as Nails, Thrice as Mean.
Whatever your parent was, was tough as hell. You have inherited their toughness, along with a few other....physiological oddities, including nails that can tear through sheet-metal and hair as tough as wire. This does have a drawback: whatever your parent was allergic to, so too are you. There are three things that can cause you trouble, but you only know about clover flowers and pure silver. The first makes you weak as a kitten and drowsy, the second burns like dry ice. Whatever the third is might be worse.

[] Friend to Cats - Don't Hurt Hekah's Cats.
You can't really speak to them, not really, but they certainly seem to like you. The local population of cats adores you, from the scrawniest old tom to the sweetest little kitten. They'll help you in your times of need, and they guard your places and friends, and you feed and love them all. But there is a price: should someone, anyone harm a cat under you care, you had better punish them in kind....because it won't be them the cats take it out on. It'll be you.

[] Voice of Angels and Demons - Don't Make Hekah Shout.
Charming and sweet, or sharp and cruel, your voice changes with your mood. You can sing birds out of trees and soothe teething babies with but a word, or make adults burst into tears and make bullies' ears bleed. You cannot tell lies, nor can you tell the truth. It makes life exceedingly difficult when dealing with adults. Children seem to have less issues with it, luckily.

[] Witches Marks - Don't Make Hekah Mad.
With a Kiss, a Cut, or a Bruise, you mark someone or something as belonging to you. As long as the intent is there, the mark is real even if it's unnoticeable or unseen to others. You can always find your marks, and you can sometimes get glimpses of locations where they are if you concentrate hard. You can also soothe those who bear them - or hurt them quite badly, causing cramps, aches, or even agonizing pain. Unfortunately the reverse is true: harm to those that bear your marks hurts you, though it must be intentional and true harm rather than superficial hurts. A kiss lasts a day and a night, and a cut or bruise until it heals; a real scar can last a lifetime.

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[] Wild, Feral, Free - Hekah Does What she Wants, Where She Wants, When She Wants.
Not quite a feral child, but not quite civilized, the part of you that isn't quite human makes you feel the need to be free and unconstrained. Trying to tie you up, bind you, hold onto you, or imprison you is an effort in futility; animals see you as one of their own (though as predator or prey can be kind of up in the air!) and your senses are insanely keen. Despite these truths, you can be constrained by certain things: the touch of an innocent child; a circle of chalk, iron, silver, or sand from the ocean; and living plants; all these things can bind you fast. Doesn't stop you from complaining about it though!

[] Familiar Spirits - Hekah Has Eyes Everywhere!
Shaun and Shauna aren't just your boyfriend and girlfriend - they're not even human. Shaun is a Cu Sith, a black hound, one of the yeth hounds; Shauna is a Cat Sith, a witch-cat. Both can transform into their namesakes, or into their terrifying unnatural forms. Absolutely loyal and unwavering in their obedience, they will kill, steal and die for you. If they do die for you, though, it may take days for them to return, and they will always be changed after. If you knowingly and purposefully forsake them, you will break their hearts and they will leave you forever.

this is a quest about young people who are damaged, strange, and borken, coping with the impossible and terrible in a world that is more familiar with wonder and magic than our own.
These youth are not healthy, well adjusted people....but they are generally not truly bad people for the most part. Hekah is as good or as bad as you paint her and may be the only one who can truly save her fellow victims within the walls of The Edgewood Home for Troubled Children.

Welcome to the Witching Hour.

>Rough and Tumble
>Friend to Cats
>Witches Marks

>>1939625
>>1939627
>>1939638
>[x] Familiar Spirits
>[x] Rough & Tumble
>[x] Witches Marks

>>1939627
>[] Rough & Tumble
>>1939627
>[] Friend to Cats
>>1939625
>[] Curses

Feel free to ask questions; the QM will try and accommodate as best as can be done.

>>1939670
For weaknesses: ANY iron? Not just cold-forged or purified in running water or something? What about steel?

>>1939638
[] Witches Marks - Don't Make Hekah Mad.
[] Rough & Tumble - Tough as Nails, Thrice as Mean.
[] Rhyming - Red and Black, Black and Red; Words that Spin, Around your Head.

>>1939686
It must be 90% pure iron - steel is harmless.

Ten more minutes and the vote will be considered done. Writing commences now - there is a definite trend....

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Your mysterious parents may have disowned you, but they left you a legacy. It isn't a nice or pleasant legacy, but it is a legacy despite that. You are something of a monster; whatever your parent was was tough, inhumanly so, and you're nearly as tough, strong and powerful as whatever it was. Your nails are sharper than razor blades, which is fortunate because they're the only things that can cut your hair outside of wire-cutters or hedge clippers. So far you haven't grown any except on your head, and it grows very slowly. No one messes with you twice; not even the orderlies will try and deal with you one on one. Four on one is usually a fair fight.

There's also the cats. Cats adore you, and you can almost, almost understand them. They've helped you find lost toys and keys, lead you out of dicey situations, and been close friends for you. You love them, and they adore you, but there's a dark side to the relationship, one which you work very hard at keeping secret. Everyone knows better than to hurt your cats except for new kids, and they learn very quickly.

You've also learned, as time has gone on, that you have an affinity for marking things. And people. Which kind of count as things. The people and things you care about tend to stick in your head, and you in theirs; you've learned that hurting people can also form this strange connection, and you've taken advantage of it. Shaun and Shauna both have your nail marks scarred into their backs (it was an accident!) and you always know where they are, how they feel. But a simple kiss, a tiny cut, or a bruise can do the same. Places as well - you always know when people enter your room, touch your things. You don't care THAT much, but it's annoying. Sadly the connections work both ways, so while you can hurt people you've marked without even touching them, other people can hurt them and cause you pain.

You usually deal with that harshly.

You quietly slip into the hallway, glancing in each direction to make sure the hall monitor isn't nearby. Sneaking into Bethany's room is a common pass-time for the more depraved and less well adjusted, but you sneaking into her room just causes all sorts of questions to be raised, and you find most of them offensive. Not entirely unjustified, mind, but offensive nonetheless.

Bethany Pritz is twelve. She likes rabbits, the color pink, walking in the mud without shoes, and is a chronic masturbator. The medications she is on helps control her urges to an extent, but when she found out it is more fun to have others help....well, things went downhill from there rapidly for her. You have no interest in little girls, and you make sure other people know that they don't have an interest in your lil' rabbit either.

>>1939744
Her tomb - er, room, rather - is covered in drawings and pictures of rabbits. Happy Bunny, Suicide Bunnies, pretty pink bunnies, crayon drawings, newspaper clippings....she's seriously obsessed with the silly things. It's kind of endearing, in a disturbing sort of way. She even refers to her bad habit as "petting her bunny". Hard to say which came first, the rabbits or the habits.

The toilet down the hall flushes with a bang, and you quickly slide into her bed, leaving the covers open. She arrives a moment later, without bumping into anything this time. "You washed your hands?" She nods slowly. "Got your mittens on?" She looks embarrassed and nods, and squeezes that poor stuffed animal into a misshapen lump. "Okay." You pat the bed next to you.

Beth clambers into the bed, and you lay back, letting her snuggle up next to you, her wide eyes gleaming in the dark. They would be brown, but in the dark they're two limpid pools of darkness that shine wetly as she looks up at you. You kiss her on the head and pull the hood of her rabbit onesie out from under her head and smooth her ears out, which makes her smile uncertainly. "Just sleeping, lil' rabbit." The girl nods agreeably, and closes her eyes as you pull the covers up and tuck her in.

You drift of shortly after she does, smiling.

You wake up in the dark, your heart pounding. It's really dark, though that doesn't bother you; like your four legged friends, the dark isn't a hindrance to your vision. The problem is that the wall you are looking at has a nice big rectangle of blue-white illuminating it, letting you see the swath of posters, cutouts and drawings of Bethany's rabbits in all their glory. Beth whimpers softly and clutches your arm more tightly, her nightmare deep and obviously unpleasant.

The thing that bothers you is that her door wasn't open that far, and the hinges are squeaky.

[] Get up and close the door; someone probably looked in on you.
[] Wait patiently; whoever it was is probably still here, and you want to catch them in the act.
[] Pet your lil' rabbit's head and soothe her; her nightmares are more important than getting caught in her bed.
[] Write in:

>>1939747
>[] Wait patiently; whoever it was is probably still here, and you want to catch them in the act.
maybe this is the source of the nightmares

>>1939747
>[] Wait patiently; whoever it was is probably still here, and you want to catch them in the act.

>>1939747
>[] Wait patiently; whoever it was is probably still here, and you want to catch them in the act.

>>1939747
>[x] Wait patiently; whoever it was is probably still here, and you want to catch them in the act.
>[x] Write in: Consider placing a rug near Beth's door for some random cat to lounge in.

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[X] Wait patiently; whoever it was is probably still here, and you want to catch them in the act.
[X] Write in: A rug near the door for one of the cats to lounge on may be a good idea.

Breathing slowly and evenly, despite how hard your heart is pounding, you pretend to be asleep. Even though the kiss you gave Bethany wasn't one of your Special Kisses, you can almost smell the awful things that she's dreaming about: rot, decay, old blood, raw meat. it's an effort to not spring up and confront the person who is in the room; no one bothers your lil' rabbit if you have anything to say about it.

You're going to put a nice, fluffy, rabbit shaped rug outside her door for the cats. That will help. It's not entirely a coincidence Beth's room is opposite yours; you hated paying the price for it, but you got your wish. there's not much you won't do to help your little ones, perverted staff members notwithstanding.

You're salivating.

Why the fuck are you salivating.

You take a slow, deep breath and start to turn over when you realize you're not imagining the smells. They're real smells. and that's when the shadow starts to rise in the rectangle of light from the doorway. Slow, deliberate, and smoothly, it rises, a misshapen lumpy thing. Breathing becomes optional, and your heart squeezes tight in your chest. You feel whoevcer it is put their hand on the bed, some perverted bastard leaving some noisome mess in your poor Beth's bed.

You're terrified, and you're not entirely sure why you are terrified. Or why the awful, wonderful smells are making your stomach tie itself in knots, making your mouth water even with the stench of rot and decay mixed in with fresh, raw meat and old blood.

[] Wait, just wait, you can cope with this. He hasn't done anything yet....
[] Fuck this noise, time to get up and kick some ass.
[] Pretend you're sleepily turning over, see if that scares them off.
[] Write in:

>>1939769
>[x] Fuck this noise, time to get up and kick some ass.
Make a grab for the hand.

>>1939769
>[] Fuck this noise, time to get up and kick some ass.
Nobody's running with metal shearing nails gripping them

>>1939769
>[] Fuck this noise, time to get up and kick some ass.

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[X] Fuck this noise, time to get up and kick some ass.

The paralysis that grips you doesn't hold long in the face of your outrage when you hear a wet, disgusting, slurping noise befom just behind you. It sounds like....like he's licking her face or her neck! That galvanizes you and you sit up and turn over your hand outstretch and claws. You drive your fingers into the soft, yielding flesh of the poor bastard's arm and you feel your nails scrape along bone even before your brain finishes processing what you are seeing.

It looks like a person, in a vague, person shaped way. The flesh of it's face seems pulled, twisted, like molten taffy. A long, slick tongue is extended snakelike, and silvery glowing threads hang from it, draped across Bethany's twitching, sleeping face. The eyeless holes in its molten head are half obscured by the glistening wet skin, and yet you can feel a hateful, amused gaze upon your face.

Then it swallows that tongue and pulls away, tearing it's arm from under your hand, leaving gobbets of cold flesh under your pal, and fingernails. The sensation of bone scraping along your vicious nails makes your spine tingle and the slimy thing seems to collapse to the floor, scrambling backwards. There is a startled yowl as whatever it is scares the hell out of one of the house cats.

Beth wakes up, drawing a huge breath in preparation for a shriek that will wake everyone on this hall.

[] Cover her mouth with your clean hand, let her know you're there.
[] It'll get away if you don't follow - Shaun and Shauna can take care of your lil' rabbit.
[] Shout for help and get someone in here to look after Bethany before you do anything else.
[] Write in:

>>1939789
>[] Shout for help and get someone in here to look after Bethany before you do anything else.

>>1939789
>[] It'll get away if you don't follow - Shaun and Shauna can take care of your lil' rabbit.
Tell her to stay with the cats and wait for the others

>>1939789
>[x] Shout for help and get someone in here to look after Bethany before you do anything else.
In any case, it left some residue. Could be enough to trail it once Shaun and Shauna arrive.

>>1939789
>Cover her mouth with your clean hand, let her know you're there.
>The thing is Marked, straight through to the bone. Tracking it will be simple.

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[X] Shout for help and get someone in here to look after Bethany before you do anything else.
[X] Write in: Stay with the cats, lil' rabbit! You got this bastard cold!

"SHAWWWWN!" Your cry for help occurs only instants before Bethany's high pitched scream of utter terror pierces your ears like nothing else can. The difference is that when Shaun wakes, it is knowing that you need him and now!, and that more than Beth's terror makes him vault out of your bed.

Several of the house cats show up as well, meowing to let Beth know they're their, while another caterwauls loudly at the end of the hall. You bite back the curse words that leap to mind, quickly scoop up Butterball, and pour the mildly confused twenty pound Russian blue onto Bethany's lap, which makes her sit up and stop screaming. "Stay here, Beth!" you leap over her and out of the bed, nearly slipping on a remnant of discarded grue as the lanky shadow of Shaun looms in the doorway. "Stay with her!" you order, before ducking under his arm and bolting down the hall.

Hammy is at the end of the hall, opposite the toilets, looking down the left hand turn with his dark fur on end and growling for all he's worth. lights are coming on in most of the rooms and you pelt down the corridor, nearly sliding into the wall as you try and turn. You catch a glimpse of it, wet pink flesh crawling along the floor, as it turns left again, headed towards the kitchens.

There's another caterwaul, this one loud enough to echo down the halls: Crookie, the little black cat that sounds more like a panther when she's angry. Definitely the kitchens! You bolt down the corridor only to turn the corner and slam into a wall of meat and flab. Strong arms grab yours as you rebound from the impact, and you look up into the night orderly's dark, rotund face. Thomas looks down at you, surprised to see you up. "Hey, little lady, where do you think you're going!?" You can feel it slithering into the kitchens, lookign for a place to hide. Just imagining it makes you feel nauseous....and hungry.

[] Break his grip and run harder! You have to catch up!
[] Try and explain, for all the good that does....but Thomas might let you go, unlike Bill or Jake.
[] Midnight snack, obviously! What did he think, that you're chasing some ghost or something?
[] Write in?

>>1939807
>[x] Write in?
Getting a glass of water for Beth. She woke up really panicked.

>>1939807
>Try and explain. Sort of.
"Can't you hear Crookie? Something is trying to hurt MY cats! Lemme go!"

>>1939807
>[] Try and explain, for all the good that does....but Thomas might let you go, unlike Bill or Jake.

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[X] Try and explain, for all the good that does....but Thomas might let you go, unlike Bill or Jake.
[X] Write in: Uh, glass of water for Beth....hey, someone's trying to hurt MY CATS!

You try and contain the half-excited panic you're in. Your heart is pounding, and not just because you've been running. It's because you've been chasing. Hunting. "I was getting a glass of water for Beth....she had night terrors...." You try and get a glimpse past him, but he's broad. Not really fat, either, just gone to flab. He was a boxer, a long time ago.

"Now Hekah," he says in that gently condescending voice he uses when he's trying to calm you down, "you know the kitchen's off-" Cookie's cougar-like scream startles him and he lets you go, though he's still very much in your way. "Off limits after lights out," he finishes lamely. "Damn, what're those cats doing in there...."

As he turns you try and dart past him, but he grabs your arm again. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! What'd I just tell you, Hekah!"

You jerk your arm in his grip, but not too hard - Thomas may be an orderly, but he's one of the better ones, and he might actually give a damn. Sort of. "Can't you hear her!? Someone's hurting my cats!" Thomas opens his mouth to admonish you, but you flinch, half closing your eyes as you get a flash of disgust from Shaun, who just discovered....whatever it was the thing left in the bed.

The expression you make takes Thomas aback, and he pulls you closer. "Hekah! You know I ain't gonna hurt you!" then he notices your hand, and lifts your palm. "What the hell...." He looks concerned, rather than mad, and you look up at him, torn between rage and despair. You can't feel it anymore. You can't feel the horrific thing that scared your lil' rabbit, and terrorized your cats. "Hekah, what have you been into, girl? Are you hurt?"

Crookie slinks into the room, her hackles raised and her tail still bushed out, but she makes a soft, plaintive 'mow' at you and Thomas, rather than one of her oversize yowls or thunderous growls.

[] Give up for now. You'll be ready next time.
[] Sorry Thomas - escape and try and pick up the trail.
[] Play miserable and piteous; you can guilt trip him later.
[] Write in:

>Last vote for tonight.

>>1939823
>[] Sorry Thomas - escape and try and pick up the trail.

>>1939823
>[] Sorry Thomas - escape and try and pick up the trail.

>>1939823
>[x] Play miserable and piteous; you can guilt trip him later.
Emphasize the point by shoving the palm smeared with disgusting slime right up to his face. Of course anyone would want to wash it off.

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[X] Sorry Thomas - escape and try and pick up the trail.

At a very young age you learned you had to be very careful with fragile things: glasses, plates, lightbulbs, people, cars, rocks, and so on. the problem with strength that regardless of the package it's in, it's still strength, and the fact that you weigh a little over 120 pounds (bone density, they said) you're still strong. so when youplant your feet and yank, thomas has only two choices: fall down or let go.

Wisely, Thomas lets go of your arm, though not without a shout of dismay. "HEKAH! HEKAH - get back here!"

You, of course are already gone, darting into the kitchen to hunt for your escaped prey. Industrial sized, though not industrial standard, the kitchen serves the staff and inhabitants of Edgewood with mostly palatable meals, usually cooked by staff or volunteers among the older orphans. A common punishment is kitchen duty as well, mostly cleaning and scrubbing. you've had your share of those details, and so you know the kitchen fairly well.

It takes some doing, but you find traces of the bloody sludge from the creature's torn arm, and it leads under one of the raised cabinets where pots and pans are kept, topped with a scored and dented cutting area. Closing your eyes you inhale deeply, smellign the faintest trace of rot, feelign the pull of the mark you left on that hidious thing.

"Well, if it isn't little ole Hekah," the sarcastically jovial voice of your least favorite orderly sounds from a short distance away. You look up and see Thomas and that perverted bastard Jake cuttign off your escape routes from two side. You look at each of them and then at the slender gap under the cabinet....

It's a very touch call to say which might be a worse fate.

>To Be Continued....

Thank you for reading and playing. We continue tomorrow at around midnight....

>>1939848
that would be how many hours?

>>1939849
From now? Around 18.75 hours.

>>1939860
got it

>>1939848
Got a Twitter? Or will you be plugging in QTG again once you resume?

>>1939883
I will definitely be plugging QTG when I resume. it will be in the same thread.

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Incidents in an Orphanage - 2

There are many cases in which you have been trapped between rocks and hard places, and sadly most of those weren't necessarily metaphorical. This time it is, but it really is more of a devil and a deep blue sea issue. The devil being a horrible thing that you clawed the hell out of when you caught it trying to hurt one of the other orphans, and the deep blue sea being the amount of trouble you'll be in when Thomas and Jake catch you. The former is an unknown, and horrible, and rotting, and fleshy and slimy and terrible. The latter is kind of inevitable, as you're one of the orphans and you've broken a host of rules tonight, including being in a bed that isn't yours, especially Bethany's bed.

You'd never touch Beth inappropriately, but the problem is Beth wants people to touch her inappropriately, so no matter how you slice it, you're going to be in deep trouble for that.

Thomas isn't a friend exactly, but he is basically a good person stuck in a bad place. Jake, on the other hand, is a bad person in a place that's perfect for him. He's predatory, though not the kind that would take advantage of Bethany, thank whatever goodness is left in the world. You on the other hand, are just perfect, which would be a problem if you were as human as you look.

Tracking the thing that accosted your sleeping rabbit led you to the kitchens, a place definitely off limits at this time of night. Thomas and Jake are slowly stalking you, moving in on either side of the prep table that takes up the middle of the industrial sized kitchen. You're on the floor, looking under the raised cabinet that the thing slithered under, and the faint sent of rot, fresh meat, and old blood that tickles your nose is accompanied by the faint pull of your mark. You've never had your mark fade from your awareness like it seemed to, especially when you've literally slashed something or someone up like you did that things arm. So it's a now or never kind of choice it feels like.

You could be wrong of course, but then again, you don't actually know what you're about to get yourself into either, so there is that to consider. At least you know the kind of crap you'll be in if the orderlies catch you.

[] Follow the thing into who knows what and where.
[] Give up and turn yourself over to Thomas.
[] Option number three: run away and hide for a while.
[] Write in:

>>1943149
>[] Follow the thing into who knows what and where.

>>1943149
>[x] Follow the thing into who knows what and where.

>>1943149
>Follow the thing.
It messed with our Rabbit. No way is it getting off with only a scratch. Jake and Thomas will just have to wait their turn.

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Lectures and possible beatings aside, you don't like it when anyone messes with your kids. Yeah, you're only 16, but you've been in Edgewood all your remembered life, and for all the trouble she gets into Bethany is one of yours.

No one gets to scare your lil' rabbit. No thing get to either.

The gap between the floor and the cabinet is six and one half inches. You could squeeze into there, but you don't really have time for that, because you wouldn't be able to maneuver much and Jake and Thomas are pretty grabby fellows who would not care about bumping your head against the edge of the cabinet as they haul you out by your ankles. that means you have to show off, which is something you try not to do too much of, because it scares people.

You get to your feet and Thomas relaxes, presuming you're going to give up. Jake tenses though; he's seen you throw things you shouldn't be lifting. Getting your fingers under the edge of the cabinet, you heave, feeling things in your back pop and snap, and the tendons in your wrists and arms crack and shift. Your ears start to ring and your heart pounds as you hurl the cabinet onto its side with a resounding CRASH that is accompanied by an "Oh, hell no!" and Jake's far more colorful language.

There is a drainage grate under the cabinet, slightly askew, and you dart for it, hurling it aside like paper despite it being made out of cast iron. Jake makes a lunge for you and manages to snag your nightshirt sleeve, his fingers just grazing your arm. the glare you give him is met by an equally angry one, but you can see behind the anger another, carefully hidden emotion: fear.

But not of you.

[] Jump in anyways.
[] Smack him one and then jump in.
[] Give him a scare by swiping at him with your nails, then jump in.
[] Don't jump in, not if it scares him that bad.
[] Write in:

>>1943226
>[x] Jump in anyways.
Very suspicious. Jake must have some idea about the thing we're chasing then.

>>1943226
>[] Jump in anyways.

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[X] Jump in anyways.

The fear in his eyes, hidden under the layer of anger for making him actually work for his paycheck, makes you wonder exactly what he knows. You don't have time to find out now, so you yank you thin nightshirt out of his hand and jump down the grate, his voice following you: "SHIT!"

You hope there isn't anything sharp at the bottom. You might be tough, but that doesn't mean it won't hurt.

With a bone jarring impact you land at the bottom of the drainpipe, which despite the squareness of the grate, is fairly wide and definitely round. And smelly. Yet again you have the dubious benefit of your unknown parentage to thank for the fact that you can see; the light from the drain is partially blocked by someone looking down at you. "Hekah? You okay?" Thomas' rich voice is filled with worry, and you're pretty sure some of it is because he half-thinks Jake might have pushed you.

"It smells nasty." The drainpipe you are in is good sized, about six feet wide, and there's a lot of much at the bottom, and a thin stream of polluted water. As bad as it smells, it's neither shit or piss, which you are grateful for. "I'm okay!" you call up again, and you can hear his sigh of relief though the echo-chamber of the drainpipe. you close your eyes and concentrate, breathing deep, trying to catch a scent, a hint of sound, something, anything that will give you a chance to fine that....molten faced thing.

"Now, don't you move, Hekah! We're gonna get a rope down to you, okay?" The light brightens as he moves away from the drain, but you only notice it vaguely, with your eyes closed. You can feel the faintest pull of your Mark. It's not far away, but there's something wrong, something making it difficult to follow. Thomas and Jake are arguing about something, but you're not interested in that.

There. That way, deeper towards the center of the Edgewood. Faint, so faint. You press your pals against your eyes, colored lights exploding against the darkness, lights that show you red stuff, slithering things, movements, creepy crawly slither body, sniffing, sniffing....

"Hekah? You there, kid?" Jakes voice is softer than Thomas' was. And even more weird: concerned.

[] Yeah, you perv, whaddaya want?
[] Don't answer him just yet. You have to concentrate.
[] ....okay, maybe this once you'll give him the benefit of the doubt and listen.
[] Write in:

>>1943226
>Jump in anyway.
>Write in
"Let go, or you're coming in with me." Glare, then jump.

>>1943297
>[] Yeah, you perv, whaddaya want?

>>1943297
>[x] Write in: Mm-hmm.
Keep up the focus as much as possible though.

Such a shame Hekah didn't have any fire related skills, because this seems like the kind of shit that needs to get reduced to ashes.

>>1943297
>[] ....okay, maybe this once you'll give him the benefit of the doubt and listen.

>>1943297
>[] ....okay, maybe this once you'll give him the benefit of the doubt and listen.
Ain't got time t' deal with yer usual bullshit, Jake. You 'bout t' tell me something I need to know, or just waste my time?

>>1943297
Youre scared, jake. What are you afraid of me finding out?

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[X] ....okay, maybe this once you'll give him the benefit of the doubt and listen.
[X] Write in: Focus, focus; he's not nearly as important. The jerk. the scared jerk.

"Hhhhmmm?" you press a little harder, the explosion sharpening, the images becoming clearer. more than one thing. Slithering stuff. Red, red-red. Fresh meat, spoiled meat. Copper, acrid copper, blood smells, fresher here. The pull weakens and the images start to fade.

"Hekah?" More worried now. Kind of freaking you out.

"What? I'm here, all right?!"

The concern in his voice doesn't go away, and now it's kind of scaring you. "You remember which way the drain in the kitchen was?"

"....yeah?"

"If you walk down the drain pipe in that direction-" Towards the whatever it was, where ever it is. "-you'll pass a four way set of pipes. Go straight. Take the second left hand pipe, and that will lead you towards the drain access in the basement."

"....why the fuck do you know that?"

"Just....look, you just get to the basement, and I'll do whatever I can to gloss this shit over." He hesitates and you wait, quiet. You can smell it, smell the thing that gave your lil' rabbit nightmares. Old blood, raw, fresh meat, decay. Your stomach growls. "...couple a kids got lost down there. We only found one. He said he....saw some things. Said they ate the other kid. Don't fuck around down there, Hekah. No one believed him, but they never found that other kid." His voice is quiet, intense.

....

"Jake?"

"Yeah, what?"

"What was it? Why are you scared?"

"....don't go looking for it, not right now, you'll just get hurt." He waits and when you don't answer. "Hekah? Hekah?!"

[] Bullshit. You're lying, right? Am I gonna see alligators too?
[] ....No one messes with my kids or my cats, Jake.
[] Fine. But you better make good on your word, pervert, or I'm going to make your life hell.
[] Write in:

>>1943363
>[] ....No one messes with my kids or my cats, Jake.
>if you cant take care of them, i will.

>>1943363
>[] Fine. But you better make good on your word, pervert, or I'm going to make your life hell.

>>1943363
>[] ....No one messes with my kids or my cats, Jake.

>>1943363
>[x] ....No one messes with my kids or my cats, Jake.
>[x] Write in: And I won't wait til another one on my watch ends up like the kids you mentioned.
Time to end some nightmares.

>>1943363
>[] ....No one messes with my kids or my cats, Jake.
>[] Thanks for telling me.

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[X] ....No one messes with my kids or my cats, Jake.
[X] Write in: thanks for telling me, but I'm gonna take care of them if no one else will....not happening on my watch, in my house!

Jake is half angry, half scared, and all sorts of upset now. He's told you things that probably didn't just happen on his watch. That sounded too much like things that happened to him, or someone close to him.

"No."

"What?" That sounds a little more like the Jake you know and despise.

"No one messes with my kids, or my cats. Not anyone. So, thanks for telling me, but someone's gotta show this fucker who runs this place." You flex your hands and your tendons crack and pop, the muscles in your arms shifting under your skin the way a normal person's don't. "Nobody gets to fuck up my kids." They're not all yours, not by a long shot, but the ones that are, really are.

"Goddammit Hekah, don't do anything stupid!" Jake's voice is a low, angry hiss you barely hear as you pad down the noisome drainpipe. Shades of "It", seriously. If a fucking clown shows up, you're gonna tear it's face off.

You pass the four way intersection and pause, listening, feeling for the thing you wounded. You can smell it now, not a real smell, but a smell that it smells, if that makes any sense. It doesn't, but you learned a long time ago you don't make much sense to other people. Except Shauna. You make sense to her. A warm, soft heat blooms around your heart and you close your eyes, basking in the prayers she's saying for you. Her brother sitting on her bed, looking over her as she kneels, praying for you. Not any Christian prayers either. He gets up and she gets up and they hug, hoping, praying that you're all right.

Continuing deeper, towards the basement drainpipe, past it, you run your nails along the wall, scraping them against the cement, leaving brighter marks in the shimmering dark that you see. It's like everything is made out of velvet and silver to you, your eyes seeing without light, but perfectly accurate despite that. There's the Mark now, stronger, stronger. You pause at the pipe's end, a T junction; you listen, smell. Feel.

A slow step and you feel it more than hear or smell it. Something behind you. Not the melty, twisted thing that bothered Beth. Something bigger. Something more real. Your heart pounds, and you can taste metal, fear flooding your veins. It's behind you.

It's right behind you.

[] Tear that motherfucker a new one.
[] First rule of hunting: don't let the prey know you spotted it.
[] Turn around and be ready for that fucking jump-scare.
[] Write in?

>>1943425
Rush forward for the nearest wall, then use it as a springboard.

>>1943425
>[] First rule of hunting: don't let the prey know you spotted it.

>>1943425
>[] Tear that motherfucker a new one.

>>1943425
>[] First rule of hunting: don't let the prey know you spotted it.

>>1939623
>A quest about fighting vampires
>First thread: pedofilia, threesome, incest, and zero vampires or fighting.
I'm confused.

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[X] First rule of hunting: don't let the prey know you spotted it.
[X] Write in: Buffy ain't got nothing on you. You hope.
[X] Tear that motherfucker a new one.

You sniff slowly, turning your head slightly to the left and right, continuing with your attempts to find the melt-faced thing that haunted poor Bethany, just like you have been. You even half cover your eyes, like you did before. The sheer intensity of the presence behind you is making your skin crawl, the muscles along your back twisting, almost knotting with the fear and tension.

Slowly, very slowly, you lift your head and smell down the left hand tunnel. It's this way. You can feel the pull of the Mark you left on that motherfucker's arm, it's that way. Hesitantly you walk towards the left hand tunnel, then pause....and then bolt, running to the side of the tunnel and pushing up and off of it, twisting in midair and reaching out for the thing that crept up behind you.

You only catch a glimpse of leather, grayish skin stretched over a skull that isn't even remotely human, tiny eyes shining from a face that look more like rat than anything else, hairless and warty, despite the tightness of the flesh. A mouthful of teeth, but only the incisors jut forward: sharp, needle like things. Not like the stories and the movies at all, those are always the canine teeth. No, these are incisors, and they spread, the jaw dropping, a tall and narrow passage into a throat raw and wet and breathlessly hissing.

It looms, something dark and voluminous, and then you are tearing clawing, screaming. Shrieks, your own and the apparitions, and then your face down in the muck, scrambling to turn over before it falls on you, bites or claws you, eats you.

Nothing there. Not a shred of cloth or a droplet of ichor.

Well, not on the ground, anyways. Your arms and face are coated in brownish gunk, smeared with it. You turn turn again, looking for it. You know you hurt it. You felt it. Soft, clammy flesh that parted like some glutinous pudding, like half-wet mud. Flashes of light dart here and there against the tunnel wall, and you hear voices, men, a woman. Thomas, and Jennifer. Kenneth. iorderlies, coming to rescue you.

Fuckers.

[] Pick yourself up and wait for them.
[] Down the left hand tunnel, quickly.
[] Hide.
[] Write in:

>>1943475
>[] Pick yourself up and wait for them.

>>1943475
>[] Down the left hand tunnel, quickly.

>>1943475
>[] Down the left hand tunnel, quickly.
Our job isn't done yet. Continue hunting.

[X] Down the left hand tunnel, quickly.

The thought of them 'rescuing' you makes your stomach turn. You're going to be in so much trouble that getting out of it is unthinkable, if possible at all. You consciously stop yourself from grinding your teeth, a bad habit of your own you've had since you were a baby. not that it ever damaged your teeth, but it makes a lot of noise.

Well, if you're going to be in trouble, you may as well get into as much trouble as possible before they catch you. You pick yourself up - muddy, gory, gruesome, wet - and quickly pad down the left hand tunnel. You don't feel your mark. But you can follow that sickly sweet stench, that rotting, fulsome, maddening scent of raw meat and old blood. It's almost half feeling and half-scent now.

You're starting to wonder if the Mark you made is making it smell like that.

The voices follow, but more slowly. They have to check other tunnels. They can't see in the dark either. You mark the passage with your nails, careful not to drag them this time, just scraping a little. This passage. That passage. Deeper still, closer to the center of the Edgewood's buildings.

Then you hear a Noise.

Freezing in place you listen, barely breathing, stock still. There, that slithery noise, the same noise that thing made. Except....

Two different directions.

It was fast, very fast, but not that fast. Two of them? Another noise. two of them, at the same time, different places than the previous noise.

You creep, very slowly, to look around the corner of the tunnel. The sight makes you want to gag, even as your stomach clenches, bizarre, hateful hunger pangs.

Seven, eight, nine....nine of those molten fleshed, unholy abominations. They squirm and slither across the floor in the large cellar that seems to have been made here. It's a cesspit, or a sty, or something....gobbets of rancid fat, strips of pinkish flesh, blood, blood everywhere, shimmering strings of gossamer hanging from the ceiling to the floor like spiderwebs. They crawl and slither around, not blindly, but not with any purpose either. They lick each other, at the gossamer threads.

Broken bones, chewed apart, cracked, marrow-less.

Tiny bones.

A nest.

And there, in the corner, the creature you marked, it's arm in fleshy tatters, not bleeding, no, just torn open, bits of grue falling from it. It twitches fitfully, cowers from its companions.

So many companions.

[] Run up the stairs and out the door - even if it's locked, you can get through....but they might follow.
[] Sneak away, sneak away and remember.
[] They're fragile, but that is a lot of them. But they scared your Bethany!
[] Go back and try and lead the orderlies here.
[] Write in:

>Last vote.

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>>1943502

>>1943502
>[] Sneak away, sneak away and remember.

>>1943502
>[] Go back and try and lead the orderlies here.

>>1943502
>[] Sneak away, sneak away and remember.
These things seem ready to just stay here and do nothing while they haven't yet noticed us. We'll have to deal with it ourself later, since most likely none of the orderlies will believe us or be willing to follow us here (unless here ends up being where they come across us in the first place).

>[] Write in
More important now is that other thing that sneaked up behind us. We managed to catch it off guard, but none of the orderlies have senses as good as ours.

>>1943502
>Sneak away, sneak away and remember.
Were coming back with molotovs

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[X] Sneak away, sneak away and remember.
[X] Write in: Watch out for that other thing!

You back away slowly and carefully; Jake seemed to think they're dangerous, and while you hurt and wounded one, a swarm of them might be another matter entirely.

You're going to have a talk with that peeping Jake later.

It doesn't take long to retrace your steps, but the further along you get, the worse you feel. The gnawing hunger is gone, replaced by a growing lethargy and bouts of dizziness. You manage to find the marks you left more by touch than by sight, and it's a surprising relief when you see the flashes of light in the distance. The jumbled voices echo and waver around you, and you stumble towards them.

Thomas is in the lead, his mag-light the brightest of them, though the smaller diode-based lights are not far from that. You shield your eyes as they approach, and you vaguely hear Thomas asking you if you're okay, are you hurt. you shake your head, but the vertigo that movement induces makes you stumble away from the wall. In the distance you hear Jennifer asking what the hell happened to her, and someone else saying that she has to be injured, to be very careful with her; you wonder who they're talking about when big, strong arms pick you up.

You mumble a warning, trying to tell them to look out, to watch out for the other thing, the tall thing with the grey face, but the words choke you, and you retch violently. Through your swimming vision, you see the looming shadow, far down the tunnel. You point, people say words, but nothing is there, and the heat and the dizziness become all too much.

The world goes away, and that's okay by you.

>To Be Continued....

Thank you for reading and playing. We continue next Wednesday near midnight....and as some may suspect, the twitter is

@XSQuestmistress

>>1943453
>and zero vampires or fighting.
Are you sure, anon?

>>1943535
I should have known this was XS from the first post, really.

>>1944013
All things serve the (story) Beam; even if unchosen, the presence of those things has use, and nothing will be wasted or unuseful, even something so slight as a bit of hair.

I really should look at /qst/ on weekends and not just at work.

This one seems pretty interesting with turbo gross monsters. I might not be able to play (every time), QM, but I at least intend to read the story

>>1947885
I have a number of people who just read my quests as opposed to play them. I don't mind, as long as someone is entertained. Or disgusted and horrified.

>>1944297
so did we point out the other thing or not?

>>1948009
Spoilers, I'm afraid. You did try, though. Whether or not you succeeded, you were in no condition to know.

Thank you for writing! Enjoyed reading the quest!

>>1951472
There will be more Wednesday after midnight (Wednesday night->Thursday morning 12:00 am PST).

>>1951544
Oh I wasn't sure what you meant by Wednesday night, guess I have time to rest up then