Cryptids Do Lurk

[Lewana]

Lewana

Mother never taught her to be good, nor did she teach the do's and don'ts of life. So when this sweet yet ever so haunting tune finds a way into her lobes, summoning the damned, the wicked and the clueless. She can't help but follow, and with a rather cheerful stride she frolics over to the clearing, where a crimson skinned women stands, wings and all, a malicious–roguish grin stuck firmly on her face as she hums the tune, sweet, hypnotic. Some how the ebony girl finds herself swaying, a smug grin glued to her velvet lips, as she watches as others gathered, her gaze flickering until she meets eyes with red women, and just like that, her body morphs.

Morphing–Shifting had never been a problem for her, she had always held the movement swiftly, being the daughter of two shifters she had things easy. Shifting was probably the only thing that Momma taught her right, but this, this does not feel right. Her body anatomy fluctuates, between her normal leopon state, as if her own trait, her feline self was dying in the process, yowls were emitted in pain, but she herself did not feel it, and then it all come to a halt. 

Her chest, and ribcage becomes hallowed, and pasty diseased skin clings to it, her body is malnourished and decaying. Numerous infected, black wounds dot her body, as chunks of muscle and decaying tissue, linger around her angular points (as if someone had decided to take several bites out of her). Her mane is still inky black, and she can feel small creatures, spiders scuttling about her inky tresses, she has no tail, just a stub of bone. Her face is white, but blood stains her face in a permanent skull like shape, with tribal markings embellished down her cheeks, she has no nostrils, no flesh on her muzzle, except for bone and residue of dying tissue clinging onto the crevices of bone. Fangs embellish her teeth. Her eyes, are gaping holes to the black abyss, a ruby glow finding its way through the foggy abyss of her soul. Ancient, tribal and druidic symbols run up and down her legs like stockings all scripted in blood.

But it's not just her body that is changed, its her mind, her instinct. She is starving, longing for something far more satisfying than grass, she wants blood.

Baby, this is not wonderland.

Word Count: 398
Cryptid: Shtriga
A shtriga is a vampiric witch in traditional Albanian folklore that sucks the blood of infants at night while they sleep. The shtriga is often pictured as a woman with a hateful stare (sometimes wearing a cape) and a horribly disfigured face. 

I made my own twist on the Shtriga, I added decaying/ disease like features and more of a tribal like witch tone, instead of your traditional cauldron witch. I would assume since she's more tribal natured she would have magical abilities associated with nature/wildlife.

[Atrani]

Atrani

She should know better than to follow that noise. She should stop, gather herself, but she pursues that eerie howl in the night because it calls to her and strokes her endless curiosity.

There is no way to see the faerie, but she hears the power in its voice and quakes with uncertainty as other bodies brush across her raggedy sides. There is no easy shift or blink to see the changes that consume her. Instead, Atrani hears the crack of her own bones to which she groans aloud and then there is heat licking and burning her flesh. Everything is painful; she suffers in muffled agony but contemplates that this is what she has always done to others. Although young, Atrani always brings chaos, pain, and heartbreak to those near her. It should only be right for her to portray the ugliness in her heart. She broke apart lovers and she destroyed her father, piece by piece. She’s a monster. She’s dead inside.

The skin is blistered, but healing at an unnatural pace, only this one time. Flames crackle down her ewed neck and tail, blazing and untamed. Her body is still emaciated – still ugly – but she will never be an image of beauty and grace. It isn’t the life she is meant for. There are still empty sockets where eyes should be, still an image of walking death, her face gaunt and her bones barely contained by her sleek flesh. Her jaw unhinges to expose the crocodilian teeth barely concealed behind her chapped lips. A cruel hiss slips from her throat; the noise is unfamiliar and frightening to her. What happened, she wants to ask, but is silenced by her mind’s alteration. It no longer craves the want to be loved, but instead to feed on fear. It’s what she has untested that would frighten her the most. The taste of blood would enable her to control someone, to see through their eyes since she does not have her own. She would finally grip their mind and thoughts, twist them to her benefit, just as she has done before, but far worse – far more effectively.

Her lungs expand with a deep breath, her new instincts beginning to pour through her and yearning to be set free.

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Words: 378

Upon her will (unless her instincts become overwhelming and unexpectedly take over), Atrani can shift into some form of lower demon (of my creation and for lack of a better term) that finds pleasure in stirring chaos versus killing. This appearance isn't necessarily permanent; she can revert to her normal self in order to lure in potential victims.

In her shifted form, Atrani has a mane and tail of fire, her body is slick with hardly any hair (never fuzzy, even in winter), and she has a mouth full of crocodilian-like teeth. Even in this form, she still has her skeletal appearance and no eyes, so no change there. She has the ability of mind control/possession, but ONLY if she is able to taste the victim's blood whether she finds them wounded or harms them herself. With no blood, she has no power over anyone. She can instill thoughts in their head to turn them against friends and lovers, etc. She could reap the benefits of her ability by seeing the events unfold through her victim's eyes.


Weaknesses:
Sunlight: this will greatly damage her skin and since she is naturally emaciated/skeletal, it would take months to heal. Her flesh sloughs off where sunlight directly touches her.
Water: She is weakened by water due to her fiery mane/tail, but it won't kill her (unless drowned, obviously).
Mortality: She isn't immortal, so she can still die of normal means, but not quite as easily as normal horses since she's a lower demon. Of course, she would die instantly should she be decapitated somehow or entirely dismembered.

dove into her eyes and starved all the fears

picture by haenuli shin- HTML by Call - words: ________

[Femur]

Who could resist a fairy’s enchantment?

Not Femur, who thought herself safe on the dark shores of Tephra.

Beckoned (or summoned) from hours of staring at the changing face of the sea, she comes forth like all the others do to stand before the might and magic of the being that flicks her wrist and bam! Femur feels not quite right… her bones start to shrink and twist until she discovers herself sitting on her haunches that end in some rather large feet. The fangs she once had protruding from beneath her upper lip have disappeared or rather, relocated to the top of her head and changed themselves into some rather impressive antelope horns. Her nose has a distinctive bunny twitch to it.

She hops - yes, hops over to a puddle on the ground and looks at her reflection. A squeak leaves her throat. Dear fairies on the mountain! She’s a Jackalope! Femur almost falls over in a dead faint but gathers herself at the least moment and dashes a smaller front paw at her reflection. What in the hell? She couldn’t have been turned into a more fearsome cryptid? Not that she’s particularly cute like this either… she’s just rather outlandish despite the impressive horns on her head. Hey, at least she can stab things! That’s looking at the bright side of this debacle.

Femur is mildly curious at what else this shape can do.

She rises up on her hindlegs and boxes at the air with her forepaws. It’s not quite useful nor does she have an opponent other than the rather harmless air she’s breathing but it seems better to figure this shape out as best as she can. Other than that, she is the most ridiculous cryptid here besides that blurry Bigfoot thing. It’s like she’s not even real but a hoax! Realizing this, she sits back on her haunches and manages to look downright cute despite the horns and the glare coming from her black eyes. So much for something fierce!

Suddenly, her nose goes into a frenzy as she picks up on a heavenly magical scent. Even fairies like to get down and dirty in their off time, and she hops over to something small and shiny - a flask. She manages to open it with her deft little paws and Femur proceeds to get drunk on a Jackalope’s single weakness - whiskey.

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400 words exact.
Femur is a Jackalope.
Their only strength seems to be their horns and ability to imitate voices.
Only weaknesses is whiskey which is rumored to be the only way to catch one of them and their apparent ability to only breed during lightning flashes despite a hare's reputation for fertility. Oh and the fact that they're considered a hoax could be a weakness if no one believes them to be real.

[Igni]

Love is friendship set on fire ...

Some loved the spookiness of Halloween. They enjoyed a good scare, only to laugh about it afterwards. Igni had never really recovered from the experience last time. Two beings she had fully trusted had haunted her and before the whole nightmare had been over, her unborn twins had broken free from her swollen barrel.

So yes, when they gather – and she is lured in too – there is a slight hesitance to it. And it soon turns out that she had a good reason to. Igni, like all around her, doesn’t stay untouched by the magic.

Goodbye, Pegasus.
Hello, Abath.

Her skull changes, just like the way she had grown a pair of wings, and from the bone grows a small horn. Sharp and pointy, perfect to impale things with. And not just anything, but something in particular. Children, small children. The sudden desire had Igni trembling on her feet, her mouth filling with saliva as teeth change to match those of a predator, so she can rip off their flesh and eat it.

As she struggles with the feeling, the mouth-watering longing for something she shouldn’t desire, her wings ruffle and tremble with the rest of her body. Head held high, nostrils flaring and her dark ears are flat against her skull. This wasn’t something she desired.

A high pitched scream is pulled from her lips as sunbeams break though the cloudy sky. The light burns her eyes, and the it’s like an invisible force drives her into the darkness the forest offers her. Her wings hug her sides, almost as if she’s trying to comfort herself, still fighting a battle Igni know she is losing.

Once night falls, the monster comes out to hunt. Even in the darkness, she can see better than what she could before during daytime. Now fully transformed. Aside from the horn, she now has cloven hooves and an unicorn’s tail, with only a small dot of hair at the end. But that’s not the only change. Her teeth, ready to tear through flesh, also support a pair of fangs, to drain her prey of blood. Her wings are no longer feathery, but bat like, as the vampire-unicorn cross she has become.

... and fire is the burning passion within.

OOC:
367 words. Igni turned into an unicorn-vampire cross called an Abath. The Abath comes from the Grimm series, but I modified it a little into half vampire/unicorn cross. She has grown fangs, canine teeth and a horn. Her hooves are cloven and her tail like an unicorn's (like this) too, and her formerly feathery wings are now batwings. A creature that feeds on the flesh and blood of children and hunts at night. Making her weak and vulnerable to light. Also not able to survive on grass and such.

[Brynmor]

There's none so blind as those who will not listen.

Like always, he is late.

He had been late getting his own life started, only starting to live one he had been set free. And the world, he had only gotten to see her after years, where most other saw it on their first day. Late had been his arrival in this new Beqanna and last but not least, he was late for the Halloween party.

By the time he arrives the physical change had already happened. He carries himself with confident, powerful strides, chest puffed out and muscles moving under his skin. Where once his neck and head had been, was now a human male’s torso and head.

The horse part of his body still gray, but Brynmor was no longer the weak thing he had become after losing his sight. Trained and strong, and the torso was no different. Well defined abs, strong arms and broad shoulders. His hair is pitch black again, like hit coat when he had been a boy. His eyes blue, like the time with Missy during her challenge, yet they aren’t to be seen. A black blindfold hides them. Nevertheless, Brynmor doesn’t have trouble navigating around.

He is stronger than before, faster too. His hearing is as sensitive as ever, the lack of sight had trained his other senses beyond normal standards. But this, the change, even made it better. Just as it made it stronger.

The biggest change is the one of heart. His face – or the part that is visible – carries a grim expression. The love and friendship he had once carried in his heart, now gone. Simply because his new task doesn’t allow him to have such feelings. They would only obstruct and stand in the way of his new task.

One he carries out with the Death Scythe he holds in his hands.

BRYNMOR

OOC:
303 words.
Brynmor has turned into a centaur reaper, carrying a Death Scythe. He doesn’t have his sight anymore (hence the blindfold), but is perfectly able to move around without bumping into things or lose tracks, sensing the living things around him. As a result of becoming a reaper, he is no longer able to love or care.

In order to be 'the reaper' he has supernatural strenght, speed and senses (except for sight), in order to be able to catch up / finish those he's send to reap.

[Buckthorn]

life unfolds in pools of gold
I am only owed this shape if I make a line to hold

 Buckthorn follows her voice because it calls to him like the ocean always has.  He goes to where everything is real, and where nothing is real, too.  He is not alone.  Many others are put under the fairy’s spell, watching her with beady or scared or hungry eyes.  His own earth-brown eyes are unchanged as they regard the winged woman, too lost in the melody that feels like a riptide pulling him further out to sea.  Down and down he sinks, chilled and charmed to oblivion.
  
Until -

He opens his eyes.  The moon is a halo above him, ringing the water with its’ soft glow.  Buck reaches for it with his muzzle, but the motion is like moving through molasses – or water.  Underwater.  He’s used to water (used to it soaking his sides and splaying his mane and tail), but he’s never been so submerged.  An unwavering calm floods his system, despite this fact.  He feels capable and in control of his new surroundings, his new body.  He wants to explore the waving sea grass and every dip and rise of the amorphous landscape.   But his supply of oxygen won’t last forever.  

With one smooth motion, he pumps his powerful scaled tail and glides towards the surface.  There is something as compelling about the sky pulling him up as the water had pulled him down, and he is eager to see it clearly once more.   Buck breaks through the surface with a splash and hauls himself gracelessly onto the shore.  His hooves are cloven like a goat, making it easier to keep his footing on the uneven ground.  No longer weightless, he feels the dual horns that curl atop his head.  His smooth fin-tail splits painfully into his two back legs.  Fully changed, he is a creature of land again.  But it is the stars he longs for now.

The inky, indigo sky is brushed with billions of lights.  He instinctively knows where to turn his bearded head, where to find the constellation that his DNA is linked to.  The faint triangle of stars that had been sacrificed to in ancient times when they appeared in the sky just after the setting of the sun.  He draws Capricornus down to himself, lets the blinding starlight fill his eyes as it swirls around him, protecting him.  All the while, he thinks of the sea, longs to be within it again.  



 

buckthorn

Word count: 400.
Buckthorn is a Capricorn, half-goat, half-fish.  
Strengths: Scales (including scaled fish tail when underwater).  Goat horns, beard, and cloven hooves.  He can use the stars/starlight of the constellation Capricornus for protection at night.

Weaknesses: He is weaker during the day/senses are dulled.  He must be submerged in water of any kind regularly or risk drying out/dying.  It is painful to change his form.  He is also constantly torn between water, land, and sky and never feeling like he belongs in any one of them (due to his hybrid parts).

[Astraeus]

At first Astraeus ignored the strange pull at his joints, mistaking it for merely symptoms of his age. And then it was too late, an abnormal power had seized him, and against his will he creaked ever closer to the mountain and its miasma, the first of the sun’s rays already tingling uncomfortably on his skin.
He was not alone. A clearing had become an eerie amphitheatre where the drama was played out upon the audience. Even as Astraeus’ body joined the ranks, his eyes were seared with the images of his devolved and mutated companions.

He would not be spared from this fate; he felt his skin stretch, his muscles and joints unhinge, his organs twist around each other as his body flickered through forms. He was a bear, a hare, a hydra, a serpent, with a scorpion’s tail, a swan’s head, a lion’s mane, a crab’s claws. A piercing scream was forced from him as if from a bellows, the air in his body all expelled.

After aeons of seconds, he inhaled. He tentatively tensed his muscles, felt through his limbs. He was….the same? He opened his eyes, blinked, blinked again, swung his head from side to side in this new strange darkness. At first he thought he was blind, but slowly he could distinguish that beyond the dank shadow that surrounded him, others stood in the natural light of the early dawn. He exhaled softly, then snorted in surprise as his breath emerged frosty, crystallising on his whiskers and the grass below his muzzle.  He took one step forward, and the night followed him, icy hoofprints left in his wake.

This movement attracted the gaze of something-that-had-once-been-a-horse. Astraeus’ skin tingled ice-hot in response, and a darkness welled up in his mind, a writhing knotted mass of webs and threads that twisted and curled into horrific forms, into murder and hate and envy. Unbeknownst to him, these images bloomed across his night-sky-skin, nightmares of revenge and denied desires that had the other creature shrinking from him in terror and turmoil. Astraeus merely felt the pressure lift, the currents across his coat fade away as the stars emerged as if from behind passing clouds. He was left panting out short crystal breaths; tears of horror brimming over and falling to the earth with the soft plink of hailstones, his head full of another’s terrors.

ASTRÆUS

Words: 395

So Astraeus has become a sort of combination of Hrímfaxi, the Norse goddess of Night, Nótt's mount, and a 'mara' or 'mare', 'alp' or 'drude' (read about them here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mare_(folklore) )
Hrímfaxi translates as 'rime-mane' or 'frost-mane', and Nótt was said to ride him across the sky to bring the night, while Maras are folkloric creatures that are said to cause nightmares by sitting on the sleeper's chest.

Abilities: His breath is frosty in the winter, or dewy in the summer, as are his hoofprints. He moves about in permanent night (which helpfully means he'll no longer suffer from his photosensitivity), I was imagining it surrounding him from all sides about one metre/ 3 feet away.

He might possibly be able to fly or levitate in the night, spreading dew or frost behind him.

When in close proximity to another horse (though he doesn't have to sit on their chest   ) He can see all their worst nightmares, their most suppressed and illicit desires, the parts of themselves they fear most, and past actions that haunt them, and these then play out across his coat for the 'victim' to see enacted. While this is horrific, it would provide Astraeus with some insight into the hopes and fears of friends and enemies, and could also be used to scare others off.

Weaknesses: During the day, while his bubble of night time protects him from the effects of his photosensitivity (damaged sight, skin etc), it makes him lethargic and slow moving. Being exposed to everyone's worst nightmares would also undoubtedly cause significant mental strain, and I imagine he would largely avoid the company of other horses, particularly large groups, unless he was able to control this ability and block it. Even if he could block it, this would require concentration and be tiring. I would think that he would suffer from something like shellshock or post traumatic stress after particularly bad experiences or too many experiences without recovery time.

[Modicum Mortem]

Don't push me, I've got nothing to lose.

He is one of the last to approach her; fashionably late, as always.

 Nothing happens at first; around him, the others who have gathered around the Rebel begin to shift into various creatures, while he stays the same. He looks to the fairy, tilting his head quizzically, beginning to grow restless and exasperated.

And then it happens. Nearby, a tiny, unassuming bunny chews joyfully on the mountain grass. The moment Mortem sees it, something in his mind tells him to...change.The bones beneath his skin began to twist and distort, and he lets out a soft pleasurable groan. The muscles stretch and he finds himself turning into something…something, other.  His body grows smaller and more agile. When the rabbit sees that Modicum has turned into a fox, its own worst fear, his eyes widen and he scurries away, terrified. The clown uses this opportunity, taking off after it. As he approaches, his body turns invisible, leaving the rabbit dazed and confused.

He reappears just in front of it. Before it has the chance to run, he opens his mouth, jaw unhinging and peeling back to expose hundreds of rows of razor-sharp teeth. Three peculiar, bright orange lights shine from his throat, and the rodent's eyes glaze over a metallic gray - it was literally paralyzed with fear. Mortem's strong jowls tear at the rabbit's limbs; he chews slowly, loving every moment of the fairy's experiment. He can taste the trepidation that boiled over the surface; it tastes sweet and succulent, almost like newly grown grass sprouted after a harsh winter.

Then, just as quickly as it had began, it ended. He is back to the horse he was previously. However, the smell of fear lingers in his flared nostrils; he can sense it all around him. A horse to his left, a fear of death. A horse to his right, a fear of their father. All of their biggest fears, the source of their worst anxiety, on the big screen for him to enjoy. A wicked grin stretches across his face at a new realization - he could use their apprehensions to incapacitate his prey, then murder them as he saw fit. What a perfect power...

Modicum Mortem

Word Count: 365

Morty has transformed into (my version of) The Deadlights, or IT. According to wiki: "The Deadlights are writhing, radiant orange lights that are a mysterious, but very deadly and terrifying eldritch form of energy...recurring plot element from the works of legendary horror writer Stephen King including Stephen King's It." He looks no different unless he is in the form of what the other horse fears most.

Abilities/Characteristics: Shapeshifting - can shapeshift into anything another horse or creature fears. 

Limited Telepathy - The only thing he is able use telepathy for is to see what their fears are.

Light Paralysis - as suggested by the three glowing orange lights. He is able to paralyze whatever creature he is hunting.

Razor-Sharp Teeth - hundreds of rows of  razor sharp teeth that are seen when his jaw unhinges. 

Invisibility - can turn invisible. 


Weaknesses: 



Since Stephen King's version is basicallylike a god, that is super hard to kill and has no other weaknesses, I'm going to give him some of my own.

-He can only turn into what a horse fears most of all. He can not turn into everything they fear. 
-Powers are useless if others aren't scared of him.
-He is MORTAL. He can still be killed, hurt, etc.
-Constant, insatiable hunger. Grows extremely weak if not feeding regularly. 
-He is always smelling/sensing other horses fear. So basically it drives him insane. xD

Thanks for letting me play along <3

[The Hero Rebel Fairy]

It's my favorite holiday and I had trouble deciding
So there are more winners than I said there'd be
Sorry?

WINNERS - Pick a 2 space trait of your liking that matches your cryptid! OR two 1 space traits
-Keeper
-Nyxa
-Kahvi
-Ibelin

Optional runner-ups (you are free to say no!)
Levi: Fire mane/tail
Ander: horns
Nocturnal: hard scales or forked tongue

Temporary defect/weakness - 2 RL months MINIMUM (you can extend it as long as you want)
-Modicum Mortem - clown nose
-Igni: can't stay in the sun very long (if it burns skin/eyes/whatever is up to you)

[~Sapphire~]

Thanks for hosting this fun quest! A cool way to test and try new abilities for our ponies!

I would love to give Ander Baphomet horns. I know I described shorter and thicker version of Antelope horns, but Baphomet horns would make a more accurate description. Thank you for this extra prize! Could they be black at the base and then slowly turn golden at the tip? <3



As for Kahvi, can I give her Succubus Mimicry? (based on Kelpie Mimicry)

Incubus/Succubus Mimicry:
User can give the abilities of an incubus/succubus, including: ram horns, bat wings, devil tail, cloven hooves, enhanced physical attraction, and able to ignite pleasure and desire through touch. (Character may have up to 3 characteristics).

Incubus is male form, succubus female form.

I am thinking of the following 3 characteristics, but haven’t set my mind yet:
- Ram horns
- Enhanced physical attraction
- Able to ignite pleasure and desire through touch

Will the traits be genetic?
Also, I was wondering if the change of eyecolor could be permanent? I'd love her to have silver eyes after this quest!


Right now I’m not actively playing Igni, but when I pull her out of the closet, I’ll play her with the temporary defect!