Dollface.txt

[ Participation Point story for Frogdice's game "Stash" ]
[ Caution: Facts and this story have very little in common. ]
[ Do not trust it for any actual information; it is outrageously false. ]
[ Canonical version: https://github.com/Rosuav/shed/blob/master/Dollface.txt ]

Dollface
========

Men of war sat around the campfire, as healing spells were cast for protection
and preparation for the next fight, and stories were swapped. One young Hunter
regaled the party with a story which he swore was true, having heard it from a
great Elementalist he'd been with last week, and she'd heard it while fighting
alongside a Warrior who'd learned it from his most trusted swordsmith, who had
recently been hanging around in the 'Judge Iatar' Supreme Court, and heard the
entire story from a bailiff who'd been there when it was told first-hand under
the oath of truth by the woman who'd been the little girl. So it must be true!

Many years ago, she said, she lived with her father and her older sister in an
adequate, if not ornate, family home. She loved her sister, missed her mother,
carefully avoided getting in trouble with her father, was scared of her uncle;
kind of what you'd expect of a girl of six years, going on seven. Her birthday
is a big deal to her, naturally, and she'll have some friends over for a party
next week. Uncle comes to visit her father, and he brings with him a large bag
tied up securely. Of course she's curious, but she's forbidden to look in it -
ooh, is it a birthday present perhaps? - but no, it's simply 'Stashed' in cold
storage. Over the next few weeks, the bag slowly shrinks, until eventually its
hessian wrapping and twine bindings are all that remain, and they are trashed.

The story is, of course, told for maximum suspense, which is why we still
haven't been told why this was scary. But he's getting to that! There was just
one time when the bag wasn't quite so securely tied. Father was outside doing
some gardening, she snuck in, peeped inside, and... a doll face peeped back at
her. Its eyes were closed, and it had short brown hair. She quickly closed it
up again, and that was that. It wasn't until she thought back on the incident
as an adult that she realized, in horror... that was no DOLL face!

(Pause for effect)

As the horror of that thought passed over her, and she told the court what she
knew, she suddenly stopped short, cutting off in the middle of a sentence. A
court healer hurried over to lend assistance as she collapsed to the ground,
her eyes wide in shock and terror; it was some minutes before she finally
gasped out her latest realization. The bag had shrunk considerably on the day
of her seventh birthday party - when she and all her friends had enjoyed her
father's cooking...

              *       *       *       *       *       *       *

                  *       *       *       *       *       *

              *       *       *       *       *       *       *

Of course, I had to respond with my own tale of horror, albeit in a rather odd
style. It is a story from the dim, dark depths of the world, almost lost to
time, but kept alive through many retellings. It is a tale from before the
Sundering, from a time when the men were men, the women were women, and gerbils
sometimes masqueraded as goldfish. It is the tale... of Streakybacon! Now, in
those days, there were guilds of Psions and of Warriors, but no one person had
ever joined both at once. The one known only by his nickname, "Bacon", wanted
to become the first Psion Warrior, but the Psions Guild rejected him - said he
was better suited to the Warriors. And so they kept him outside the guild,
carefully engineering barricades and wards, until one day someone went to look
at him... and saw, unmistakably, the Aura of Parlak, the mark of Psions guild
membership, around his head... he'd been a member all along!