1001 Mournland Horrors

[RealAlHazred]

Originally posted by zombiegleemax:

The collective efforts of this board have been breathtaking over the past few months. I knew we were making headway when my group absolutely refused to step foot in the place "I hate the Mournland. It's filled to the brim with creepy Children of the Corn and I can't heal there to boot." A PC said to me.
'Twas a good day, it was. Then again, I am a sadist...

257) While sleeping, each PC hears and feels everything that happens to its body. Bugs crawl over their face and into their mouth (maybe up the nose!), you hear a distant wolf howl at a moon that never sets. An ogre growls right next to the ear and its hot breath on the face. Maybe the din of some not-so-far-off battle. Despite the stimulus, the PCs cannot wake up, nor open their eyes until a full 8 hours have passed. They experience it all as a waking nightmare, although one that shouldn't affect them beyond creeping them out.

 

[RealAlHazred]

Originally posted by zombiegleemax:

258) the party stumbles upon a circus tent with undead clowns, animals and attractions continuing to perform even after their deaths.

259) the players see a large group of people heading deeper into the Mournland they seam to be refuges who are lost in reality they will roam this land forever as ghosts.

260) haunting pipe music seams to be coming from up ahead when the player approach the music it seams to drift farther away till it gets to a woman with white hair and ivory skin her face is covered by her hair she continues to play no matter what the players do if the move the hair away from her face she has no face.

 

[RealAlHazred]

Originally posted by zombiegleemax:

I prefer horrors that are more realistic, I find that truth is stranger than fiction, and that if the PCs can imagine something being feasible, then it lends to more fear. (Even though the stuff like melting puppy dogs still freaks me out as well.)

261.) The PCs lose time. They seem to be running out of supplies faster than they thought. Seem to be standing in the midst of battle while they were previously camping. They are not all losing time at once, some members can recall having detailed conversations with the ones that have lost time, which could have spanned any given amount of time, minutes, hours, days.

262.) Similar to the one above. The PCs finally make it home after accomplishing the task they went to the Mournland for. They spend some time at home, recounting their events, talking with friends, having a decent meal, when they slowly realize that they aren't really home, they never made it home. Little things are different, like people not remembering them, or their favorite pub closing down for no reason, or people they know to be dead they share a casual conversation with. When the feeling of wrongness hits them, they immediately snap back to reality, not knowing how that happened. It doesn't have to happen while they sleep either, just suddenly, they are standing, in the Mournland, weeping, screaming... "This can't be happening!" Roll a sanity check!

263.) Slow, droning music starts to play over the terrain, a dirge, slowly building... slowly making you sad, or angry, reminding you of how much you hate the other PCs... Why did you come here? It was all the wizard's idea, right? You hate the wizard, and his superiority complex. A well placed dagger in his neck should do the trick. (wizard is killed by the rogue) Music still plays... Why did you come here? It was all the paladin's idea, right? You hate the paladin and all his hypocrisy...

 

[RealAlHazred]

Originally posted by zombiegleemax:

Howdy all, first time poster on these boards. I hope my humble contributions are up to par.

264. As the PCs enter the Mournland, they start to experience short spurts when they're short of breathe, which after a few days feels like choking feelings. This goes on for a week, fatiguing them, as it feels as they can never find enough air to breathe normally. After 7 days a random PC goes into a coughing fit and dislodges a bloody piece of dirt from his throat, that looks to have bits of his own lungs and aesophagus in it. He/She is unharmed but probably should be shaken up. A few days later the whole group experience the same thing, except the coughing causes full body tremors and spasm, racking them with pain. The same random PC from before starts to feel something moving underneath his/her skin on the left arm, and when examined a large, blood covered maggot bores out and leaves a horrible, gangrenous wound. The night of this incident all PCs will suddenly wake up to find them themselves buried just below the surface of the ground, struggling fruitlessly to free themselves from the earth, just as they can feel hundreds of the maggots come from all sides, biting and squirming into them. If they can't make strength checks in time to free themselves and their comrades, they're infested and slowly eaten alive over the course of a day.

 

[RealAlHazred]

Originally posted by zombiegleemax:

265) The party comes across Orinsh, a village just inside of the Mournland. All the inhabitants of the village, despite being of myriad races, ages, and genders, acts in a singularly calm, serene manner eerily similar to one another. They are model neighbors, expert dancers, surprisingly good psions, and fond of headdresses.
The reason becomes clear after encountering the mayor: a Kalashtar Telepath of unsurpassed power named Ravqitar. He has been using mind seed in an effort to create as many Kalashtar as possible, starting with every man woman and child of Orinsh, and the PCs may be next...

EDIT:Just as a note of clarification, Ravqitar's efforts are entirely futile. Mind Seed can overwrite personalities, but it can't transfer the quori essence of the Kalashtar Soul. Rav is one of the few surviving members of his line, driven to madness by grief and fear for the survival of his race, and, unaware of the futility, sees this as a necessary evil to winning the war.

 

[RealAlHazred]

Originally posted by raziel_brokodar:

266) At night (or all the time when in the Mournland) the PC's skin etc. can be seen through, allowing their bones to be visible. Creepy when you look at your fellow party members and you see their skeletons.

267) The party comes across a tree that has corpses hanging from all of it's branches! I call it, the Corpse Tree! All corpses can either have their mouths open as if screaming or if you want them to, they can be screaming! (then you can call it the Screaming Corpse Tree)

OR if you're feeling crazy, there can be dozens or more trees like that... maybe the screaming corpse tree forest! (if you're really feeling insane)

 

[RealAlHazred]

Originally posted by zombiegleemax:

268) In Metrol, the shattered Jewel of Galifar...
A bard sits on a hill, bringing surreal calm to the the Mournland. Suddenly the place feels like a mundane twilit landscape, The party approaches, and he bids them hello cheerfully. He's preternaturally happy, and speaks thus:
"The name's Grinner. Why am I so happy, you ask?" He speaks gleefully as the party mounts a grand staircase outside of Vermishard palace "I'm one of the lucky half of this city. Vermishard's mists stole my life the minute I breathed of them. The rest died like that"
The party mounts the stairs, and the merry bard points down the lane, revealing a pile of bodies. Inspection reveals every one of them strangled each other to death... men, women, even children clasping each others' throats while locked in a wide-mouthed, teary eyed death grimace.
"What are you fooling with that pile for, sir?" The bard continues, walking through the pile as though it were air. "I was pointing beyond it. Trust me, they got off lucky too. You wanna see people I really feel sorry for? Come right this way..."

Frankly, I've tried and I can't think of a worthy follow-up to this, though I imagine someone else can. I welcome any effort

 

[RealAlHazred]

Originally posted by zombiegleemax:

268) In Metrol, the shattered Jewel of Galifar...
A bard sits on a hill, bringing surreal calm to the the Mournland. Suddenly the place feels like a mundane twilit landscape, The party approaches, and he bids them hello cheerfully. He's preternaturally happy, and speaks thus:
"The name's Grinner. Why am I so happy, you ask?" He speaks gleefully as the party mounts a grand staircase outside of Vermishard palace "I'm one of the lucky half of this city. Vermishard's mists stole my life the minute I breathed of them. The rest died like that"
The party mounts the stairs, and the merry bard points down the lane, revealing a pile of bodies. Inspection reveals every one of them strangled each other to death... men, women, even children clasping each others' throats while locked in a wide-mouthed, teary eyed death grimace.
"What are you fooling with that pile for, sir?" The bard continues, walking through the pile as though it were air. "I was pointing beyond it. Trust me, they got off lucky too. You wanna see people I really feel sorry for? Come right this way..."

Frankly, I've tried and I can't think of a worthy follow-up to this, though I imagine someone else can. I welcome any effort

How about:

Opening a grand set of double doors reveals a chamber splattered with flesh. Like the rest of the bodies in the mournland, none of it has decayed. The room actually seems to be packed with refugees. Their badly mutilated bodies seem to have had the flesh carved away from the bone. Inspection reveals large, ***** boils on some parts of the skin and on the pieces of flesh which are scattered all about the room.

"They all came here to hide after not initially dying. Then the boils appeared. It pained them, prevented sleep, and began driving them mad. Then that poor fool (he gestures towards a smiling near-skeleton) went and cut out one of those boils. He told them it felt better. They carved the flesh from their own bones!"

Looking around the room some more shows little food and a knife, which had been out upon a makeshift shrine. It not only detects magic, but leaves an evil taint which shows up as a moderate aura with Detect Evil.

"But that wasn't the worst. The wounds didn't kill them. They just kept cutting themselves to pieces and not dying. They actually starved to death."

Grinner begins playing again and anybody from Breland recognizes the song as a lullaby about getting food tomorrow sung to the beat of a bawdy pub song about getting drunk and womanizing.

 

[RealAlHazred]

Originally posted by missekat:

Grinner walks singing and smiling from the room and you follow him outside again. He walks to the back of the building, where the stables are. Time seems to be frozen here. Birds hang in the air, trees and grass seems to be frozen in a movement suggesting a whipping wind and the people..

Only two people remain upright here. Four lies on the ground, dead, with stab wounds in their hearts. Two small boys, an very old woman and an even more elderly man. In front of these dead people is a fair-haired woman dressed in a bright green dress and a crown of summer flowers. On her right hand a golden wedding band can be seen. She is kneeling in front of a man wearing a matching band of gold, and wielding a bloody sword. Both of their faces show terror and desperation. His sword is only inches away from striking her heart.

"Ah!" Says Grinner and smiles that merry smile. "This is my favorite. The farther.." He points to the standing man. "Knew of the coming doom and hastened to save his family from a fate worse than death. He reasoned that no horse would be able to outrun the fog, so he lined up his parents, his children and his wife and killed them as fast and merciful as he was able. He wasn't quite fast enough though." He walks to the man and waves his hand in front of the stiffened face. "He IS aware that you are here, my friends. And he is also aware of what he has done. So is she." He turns to point at the blonde woman. "But do you know what the best part is?" He looks at you and then slowly smile. "Time DO actually move here.. just very VERY slowly. His sword has only moved a fraction of an inch since the day of mourning. But some day.. in maybe 50 or 100 years.. the sword will reach her, and just imagine how many eons it will take for it to push through her flesh, to reach her heart and kill her?" He smiles again and shrugs.. "But such is the curse of the Mournland. We all have our own little piece of hell here. Now just watch your step, or you might get one of your own." He winks at you and laughs, then takes up the tune again.

 

[RealAlHazred]

Originally posted by sereno:

269) After cresting a hill, you come upon a tranquil pond in a sheltered hollow amid the hills. The area around the pond seems untouched by the effects of Mourning, for at least a few yards or to the tops of the surrounding hills.

A large willow tree shades one bank of the pond and cattails and rushes sway and rattle lightly in a cooling breeze. The occasional croak of a frog can be heard and somewhere, out of site, a splash of a jumping fish can be heard.

Even the gray mists overhead can be mistaken for normal clouds on a slightly overcast day, the sun seems to be actually shining through a little. Like most ponds, the water is slightly greenish with algae and the bottom of the pond cannot be seen.

Nothing will come to harm traveler who choose to camp here. The sense of peace and comfort will continue, so long as no one touches the water of the pond.

If anyone does touch the water, however, the entire pond shatters like a mirror struck by a hammer and collapses into the bowl of the pond. The bottom of the pond is parched and cracked like desert clay and littered enough bones to be the population of an entire village.

Soon after, the willow tree and the cattails and the rushes dry up and turn to dust. The unaffected land quickly succumbs to the effects of the Mourning and the hollow between these hills becomes like all the other; dead and blasted. The sense of peace departs at the shattering of the pond.