[network, voice, Night 349] @hexappeal; Campfire tales [open] [cw: alcohol, language]

[sleight_of_fate]

[Rhys has had better nights, and he's had worse. Tonight is special, however, because no matter how shitty he was feeling before, it's vastly improved now.

Rhys sounds wasted. His words are careful, but slurred enough to tell that he's gotten hold of enough booze to make a significant dent in his sobriety, and he speaks with the exaggerated precision of someone who knows he's drunk.

Enjoy, folks.]

So. Everyone keeps telling me that I should have a story time, so. I. Am going to tell you a story from back home. Not my story, but it's a story.

Back up in the Appalachian mountains, there's a lot of weird shit living in the woods. That's where all the weird shit likes to live, if you've ever been monster-hunting, by the way- in the woods. So some years ago, there was a hermit and his dogs living out there, in a home-built cabin, hunting to survive and basically telling the rest of the world to fuck off. You know, the way hermits do.

[He pauses to take a sip from his bottle. He's got a good voice for storytelling, a casual, conversational tone, even if he's a bit scattered at the moment.]

The problem with roughing it is sometimes the game isn't so great. It was a drought season, heading into late fall, and so it happened there just wasn't much to shoot. The hermit goes out with his dogs, every day, but no luck. A rabbit here, a squirrel there, maybe, but barely enough to fill the pot, and anything he can shoot counts.

Well, one day, after a long day of nothing, the old man sees the weirdest damn thing. It's a cat, a big cat, the size of one of his dogs, maybe, with a long bushy tail and huge yellow eyes like the moon, watching him from the trees.

Course, he takes a shot because what the hell. He shoots off its long, bushy tail, and the cat makes this godawful screaming noise, and runs off into the swamp and disappears. A tail's better than nothing, so the old man takes it home, makes a stew, and him and his dogs have supper for the night. Doesn't give it another thought.

[There's rustling as Rhys shifts position on his bedroll, giving it a few seconds. Though this is clearly not the end of the story.]

A couple nights later, the old man's woken up by something crashing around in the trees outside. He sits up, and sees bright yellow eyes outside his window. Hears the sound of some big-ass claws scraping up the wood of the cabin porch, and a fucking voice, hissing at the window. "Taily-po, Taily-po, give me back my Tailypo!"

[Rhys does the call in a creepy, cheerful singsong, fully invested in telling the story properly.]

The dogs start going batshit, so the old man lets them out, howling and baying after the thing, chasing it off into the swamp. He waits, and waits, and it's nearly morning when the dogs come back- two of them. No sign of the third, but the damn cat's gone, at least.

[Rhys pauses for another sip, liquid gurgling in glass. Stops to wipe his mouth.]

Second night falls. Old man wakes up in the dead of night to the sound of crashing again, like something taking apart the trees. Big splinters of wood coming off the cabin walls. Yellow eyes, out his window. Guess who's back.

"Tailypo, Tailypo, I know you have my Tailypo!"

Out go the dogs again, howling like hell to chase the thing back into the swamp. Old man waits again with his rifle till sunup, and it's only one dog that comes back.

Third night. Same thing, same voice. He even takes a shot at it, but it hares off into the trees with the last dog on its ass and that's it. Come morning, no sign of either of them.

Now the hermit's all alone, all his dogs are gone, and he's looking at sundown with a sense of dread, knowing what's coming.

Claws in the wood at the window. Huge yellow eyes. And that voice.

"TAILYPO, TAILYPO, GIVE ME BACK MY TAILYPO."

The old man's out of his mind, at this point. Screams back, "I haven't got your 'TAILY-PO'!"

[There's another long pause, as Rhys stops. For both dramatic effect, and to take another drink. He might be shitfaced, but he does have a pretty good sense of pacing.]

That night, there's a horrendous storm, the kind that shakes every tree on the mountain. Days later, neighbors find the wreckage of the cabin: place is fucking leveled, like a tornado hit it. Nothing left but the chimney, some trashed furniture, and bones scattered in the ruins...only sign that anyone ever lived there.

And in the swamp, you can still hear the voice, and maybe catch a glimpse of glowing yellow eyes.

"Taily-po, Taily-po, now I've got my Tailypo!"

[One of the benefits of being drunk is that he doesn't realize, or care, that is a really unsettling ending. Especially in a small town full of monsters. There's entirely too much glee in that last, triumphant sing-song.]

Moral of the story, is...Don't mess with a guy's tail or you will get fucking wrecked.

G'night everyone. Hope y'r sleeping alright.

Comments

@Iwillnot; video

[absentconstellation]

[ The Cat makes a noise suspiciously like a 'harumph'. ]

A proper cat would give no warning.

@hexappeal, voice

[sleight_of_fate]

[Rhys is still completely covered with red lines, so he's still got his video off.

Also, hi, Smokey. He misses you.]

'course, but cats like to play with their prey. An' once it whittled down the dogs, lured 'em off into the swamp, then it went for the kill. Right?

Plotting.

[absentconstellation]

[ The Cat could probably turn on audio with no video, but he can't be bothered to learn. You get to deal with his smug, furry face. ]

One toys with cornered prey. Otherwise they're apt to escape.

[sleight_of_fate]

It probably wasn't a very good cat, then.

[It was just a story, after all. Mostly.]

Probably could have used some lessons. Or maybe it was cocky. Y'know, Overconfident.

I dunno. The only thing I ever found that could do voices and fuck you up in the woods was a hyena. And I don't even know what the fuck those are.

[absentconstellation]

Hyenas do enjoy their games, but that behavior suits a crow or a magpie better. Hyenas do not often find themselves in woods.

[absentconstellation]

[ The Cat could probably turn on audio without video, but he can’t be bothered to learn. You get to deal with his smug, furry face. ]

One toys with cornered prey. Otherwise they’re apt to escape.

@PetertheGreat, audio

[zunesareawesome]

Okay one--what do you have and how can I get some and two--

--I'm not scared or anything but I can totally see how people could be so--

--you know, people who get creeped out by those kinds of stories. [A nervous chuckle.] Which it's a great story! Really...great.

@hexappeal, audio

[sleight_of_fate]

[HI BUDDY.]

Hey! Y'know, there's a liquor store, a grocery store, an' a hotel all in a day's walk? It is the best place. Seriously.

And I have vodka. And orange juice. More vodka than orange juice, though.

[He's pretty sure he's completely lost track of the orange juice. Oh well.]

Just need a pool now and I'd be all set. I'd invite you over.

I'm so sorry I lost this tag!

[zunesareawesome]

...I think I'm gonna have to make a trip. A trip I probably won't remember on the way back, but that's okay.

Oh man, pool party? I wish. That would be awesome!

Just...take it easy on the creepy stories.

I miiiiiissed you!

[sleight_of_fate]

[Rhys pfts.]

If I remember any really good ones, I'll let you know. 'Til then I'll keep to the nice ones.

[Tailypo got his tail back. That's a happy ending, right? It's totally a happy ending.]

An I have stuff for you. If you get to me anytime soon, before the vodka's gone, I'll share.

I drink a lot of vodka, though. But maybe I'll get more. And I still have stuff for you.

meeee toooo!!! *reaches for*

[zunesareawesome]

[...suuuuure, that's a happy ending.]

Make sure that you do. [He finger-guns at you, bro.]

Hey, you know what? If it's anything that will make me not remember stuff for a few hours or rot my teeth, or both, might have to make a direct trip to find you like right now?

[Not the best idea, not with Stephen around either but...it's a nice thought at least. Hopefully they'd run into each other, soon.]

@Enoch, audio

[warriorscribe]

I can't say that I am, but...I must echo Peter in asking where I could find some of whatever you're drinking.

[The story was unsettling, but well told. He has little comment, really. It's not so different from a story he might have heard anywhere, albeit with a more applicable moral, and a bow or sling rather than a gun...]

[sleight_of_fate]

Mmm. Liquor store. Next to the grocery store.

Shoulda gone back for the apple vodka but I don't really like apple vodka. And I couldn't carry it. Fuckers.

Plus if someone else wants it. You know. I'm not an asshole. Not that kind of an asshole.

[There's a shifting sound as Rhys sits up again.]

Wish I could help you. I'm not sleeping either. Best sleep I've had. Vodka's shit for sleep. Absinthe's better. Or ginger brandy. Sell my soul for some ginger brandy. Or my ass. My ass is better than my soul.

[warriorscribe]

Not with your devotion to helping others.

[Figuratively speaking, of course. Deeds don't actually affect the quality of one's soul as far as Enoch knows. Or maybe they do? He's not sure where some of the evidence he's seen stands.

Next to the grocery store? It sounds like they might be heading back that way, then, if they needed something to do while they waited for the third shoe to drop. He's slightly concerned about running into people in the hospital, but maybe...]

The first I find isn't mine to drink, but if I find more, perhaps it will help.

[sleight_of_fate]

You are good. You deserve a bottle all to yourself.

[That's not exactly healthy, Rhys, but the sentiment is there?]

And. Yeah. Devotion.

[He thinks about reaching for the bottle again.]

Trust me. It's seen better days.

My soul, not my ass. My ass is still great. Soul's taken a beating though.

I'm not all that nice a guy.

@jemesouviens; audio

[jmencalisse]

You seriously telling me you wouldn't go for the stew?

[Look, he's starving. Fuck the cat.]

@hexappeal, audio

[sleight_of_fate]

I dunno, man.

Weird animals in the woods? That's freaky shit. Some of em are poisonous.

Like, "you eat em and your face rots off" sort of shit.

If I was desperate enough maybe.

But I can't shoot for shit, either, so I guess it doesn't matter?

@hsiaoke; video

[heavensreader]

[If asked, Kesara would have said she wasn't in the mood for stories, rare though it is. She has not been for some days now, no more than she's been in the mood for anything. She still feels empty and heavy most of the time.

And yet this reaches her. This wakes her, almost. She pulls up her tablet, turns on the feed as Rhys starts his story, and though she's almost sure he won't look, lets him see her sit and listen, leaning close. She mouths the last round of taily-po along with him.]

Is that the most awful one you have?

@hexappeal, voice

[sleight_of_fate]

Awful? Didn't think I was telling awful stories. This one was just a lesson.

[Also, Rhys's definition of awful is pretty warped at this point. He's seen some shit.

But hello, new poerson. Come one, come all.]

I've got awful stories. Probably got some good ones, too. Why do you want awful stories?

[heavensreader]

I like all stories. [she gives a little smile, half shy, half excited.] Especially ones that are lessons. All awful stories are actually lessons. That is why I like them.

[That is a flagrant lie, but the fact that she lies is a good sign in itself.]

cw: child predation

[sleight_of_fate]

There were always wolves in the woods. S'what the first stories were for. Not that there were really wolves. But that people are shit, and have always been shit, and will always be shit, if you don't watch your back.

[Cynical much, Rhys?]

'Cept I could actually see things. The real wolves. Pick your horrible, though most of 'em just wanted to be left alone. Everything's gotta pay the rent, you know, even the tigers.

Except the horrible ones. They have to pay the rent and figure out how to eat kids without getting caught.

[Rhys, STOP ALREADY.]

@Mnemonsyne; voice

[bookofnope]

[The story isn't particularly up Beckett's alley - he makes a note to ask whether it's a true one, though he's not sure Rhys is in a state to answer coherently - but there is something else of great interest happening.]

Where did you find the good stuff?

@hexappeal, voice

[sleight_of_fate]

[Of course Beckett doesn't really concern himself with the occasional human getting eaten by horrible things in the woods. it wouldn't be Beckett if he did.

Rhys calendar manages to follow the gist of the question.]

Which good stuff? Because I have a lot of good stuff. I'm full of it.

voice

[bookofnope]

[Pshh, what's the occasional human.]

Yes you are. The alcohol. The sole comfort of us suffering abductees, except the occasional pancake.

[sleight_of_fate]

[The booze is the only thing of interest here? You're going to give him a complex, Beckett.]

Pancakes would be fucking awesome right now. M'out of crackers. Still got jam left, maybe in cookies?

[Not the same without the cream cheese, though. So much sadness.]

Liquor store. The apple should still be there. Salted caramel, too? Which tastes like taint in everything but cupcakes. And brownies.

But salted ass in drinks. Sorry.