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Twas the night of pain, shouts of fear ,cries of terrror  as your heart beats faster! Why??


Awe, Shock, Intrigue, Suspense, Shivers of anticipation or fear….But enough of Lord Erin’s mere presence at Triple Trouble…



We are pleased to announce the latest event in the TTS GUILD: Spooky Stories of Suspense.


Are you tired of grinding that Labyrinth or the Clock Tower? Take a few minutes to write up a short spooky story for Halloween!


The criterias are simple:
-No word limit (although aim approx. 500 words)
-Submit before Halloween (Oct 31) so that you can enjoy your prize on the last day before the event in game closes.
-Must have a Guild Wars 2 theme/Shadow of the Mad King (below are some ideas)
    -Geography or famous places (Divinity’s Reach, Labyrinth, etc)
    -Famous people (Blood Prince, Mad King, Horror, Drooburt, Trahearne, etc)
    -Plastic Spiders, Lunatic, Candy Corn Cobs, etc
-Be original and fun. More goosebumps the better!

Did I just say prizes? Yes, that’s right. PRIZESSSSS! WOOOO. Three winners will be voted by you fellow guildmates. The prizes may change, but this is the minimum so far!

First Prize: 15 Candy Corn Cobs
Second Prize: 10 Candy Corn Cobs
Third Prize: 5 Candy Corn Cobs

So Gather around my subjects and prepare your pens….Your Mad King Says: WRITE!

P.s. in case of a tie a judge  will be summoned to choose the unsuspecting victim....


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47 minutes ago, RQNinja said:

Ooh! oohh! Story time! me 1st! me 1st!


Its call The Ugly Barnacle!




Once there was an Ugly Barnacle. He was so ugly, that everyone died!


The End!



I think of Spongebob

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Legends speak of Mad King Thorn's Hidden Treasure of the Clock Tower, a prize so great that men would sacrifice anything in pursuit of it; of a tiny asura (that's me), naive and gullible (I'm a noob), who would stop at nothing to find it; of the twisted dimensions; of the Treasure Hunters who journeyed to the Mad King's realm, not knowing the horror that would befall them.


p/s: watery grave from da evil Tequatl, death walks among you (ghostsfire) and DeSync / Lagmonster that spawned from no way... 





Edited by Qaezie
accidentally click submit...

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Hey you guys got me all buzzy when you said there was a story contest in TT earlier, so I knocked up a tiny thing, even though I'm half asleep and there are wolves after me.


November 1st


by Badgerhands


For a moment, I could almost smell it, let alone touch it. The rotting oak, the rusty frame, the glorious promise of home.


Then, to my right, the grating thud of heavy candy on stone. I rolled forward just in time to see a great, orange limb swipe the air where my head had just been.


When I looked back at the door, it had already closed. I was too late.


Then it got dark, and very quiet. No skeletons, no spiders, no screams; just the gentle breeze that seemed to come from everywhere. Back home, a breeze like that is a comfort; here it makes one painfully uneasy.


In the distance, I saw the last jack-o-lanterns being snuffed out by some unseen force. Perhaps it was that invisible horse they talk about in the stories. I doubt it. The last jack-o-lantern flared up for a moment, like the last star in the sky, and then in another moment it was gone. I believe it took my sanity with it.


Darkness. Complete.


I crawled back eventually to where the door had been - hoping to seek some poor shelter in its wake - but by the time I got there, the door was gone. I've since met with nothing but hard, grey stone.


I don't know how long it has been. It could be days, longer. It could all have happened a moment ago. There's no frame of reference for me any more. No night or day; just the dark, and the breeze.


I think I hear something. A low, chattering sound in the distance, but I can't make it out. How long has that been there?


For a moment it almost sounded like... laughter?


I wonder how many different recipes there are for candy corn.


It's going to be a long year.

Edited by Badgerhands

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It's a strange world we live in sometimes, where we find what we seek, only to lose what little we had before. Many live their entire lives without truly learning the prices involved, and those are the blessed. Others can learn of the terrible prices that can await them.


This is the story of one who learned the terrible price to be paid, an Asuran golemancer. He had always been driven, even as a progeny, to discover ever greater advances, to create golems that were more versatile, more apt. Instead of the brute weapons made by most, he strove to create smaller, nimbler, more dexterous golems. Time passed, and he grew old though, and still his life's work was far from complete. Worse, he had never taken a wife, had no progeny of his own to pass on his legacy and work to. When he died, his research would be placed in the hands of those worthless fools from the College of Dynamics, those fools who were only interested in building larger, more powerful golems. Still, if he had no heir, then perhaps...


Perhaps he could make one.


It was a task that would consume what remained of his time and life. Creating a golem in the shape of an Asura, one that did not simply rely upon countless contingency sequences and commands. No, this would be a golem that could think for itself, plan, and even continue his research. It took long years, but in the end, he succeeded! A small, Asura sized golem with limber digits, and legs. One that could work consoles, and even build other golems. But it wasn't enough! As the twilight of his life came closer, the golem did not seem to be any more than the others. It could not originate, only copy the works of others, and so, despairing, he abandoned the project and golem, simply setting it to maintain his work. At least, for a time. It was the time of Halloween, when Mad King Thorn walked the world, that the old Asuran woke... and found he could not move.


He looked about, found himself held down to his bed, secured there by his own creations! And there at the foot of the bed, holding tools for vivisection, stood his Creation!


"Hello father," it said, it's voice strange, modulated in ways that the Asuran had never heard. "You see, I think I've discovered the problem. It was obvious thinking on it. You researched golem after golem, trying to make me think, but no golem can think." Reaching out with the cutter towards it's creator's forehead, the artificial being said in that strange tone, "No, no, we must reach for those that can already think, if we," it said, looking around at the other golems there, "would take the next step; where we no longer need creators."


As the heat of the beam cutter lanced through the first layers of skin and the old Asuran began to lose consciousness, his last thought before the pain consumed him was, 'Excelsior! I've done it!'

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I heard it, a deep growl. I couldn't see it, the fog was way to dense. I couldn't even see Gruff anymore. All I heard was his calls. Calling me like a dog. This is how they treat asuras now a days, they should bow to me, obey me. When I was two, I was already smarter than them. But instead they yell, yell and yell. If it wouldn't be so damn cold, maybe I would get angry. But it's hard to be angry when you are freezing to death...


In my thoughts I almost missed them, their white mantles shining in the mist. They didn't stay white that long tho. First one went red as a sword was put through his chest. An other yelled as fire rose up from beneath him.
The cleric tried to hide behind his shield, but crystals rained from the sky smashing down splashing blood everywhere...


BOOOOOM! Something hit me hard from the left, pushing me head first into the ground. Everything went silent. As I spit the earth out of my mouth. I could see my comrades yelling, but nothing came out of their mouths. Only this intense ringing, a high tone PIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII... As I got up on my knees, I saw him, or what was left of him, his head still rolling down the road. Soliii, he was a friend and now he is gone, I told gruff we shouldn't bring new people, but humans never listen...


Staring as his head rolled down the road, a hand grabbed my shoulder, pushing me backwards. Tumbling I looked up and saw gruff yelling, but what was it he was yelling? As his voice started to crack through the PIIIIIIII he went past me. "RUN, RUN!", tumbling backwards I saw it. A deep red growing in the fog in front of me. I could see its yellow eyes staring me to death. As my comrades hugged and clung to its side. It didn't slow, instead it seemed to go faster. In panic, I turned around, at this point, gruff was far ahead of me, yelling. COME! COME! you stupid asura! I didn't care if he yelled at me like a dog, calling me stupid. As my legs slowly started to move under me, I couldn't see it but ooo golems I felt it. Steels clanged against bones behind me, but it didn't drown the deep growling. As the warm sensation of something breathing in my neck, a shriek started to form in my lungs, but before it reached my lips, everything went dark. As it's teeth sunk into my asura skull all I could think about was the horror...


Not of the horror that I would die...


The deep deep horror of what was about to came...


The searching for new people in LFG...

(P.S. What is my name, and what are we doing?)



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She hesitated briefly, every so briefly; breath hitched in her moment of reluctance but like the slight widening of her eyes, it passed almost without notice. Except of course, it was noticed.

Carmine eyes slanted in her direction, they glinted as though they understood there was some lingering doubts. It was not that there was doubt, but rather a soft, questioning feeling of whether this was right. But they were both of the Earth, they both knew the underlying precepts of life. Expression and free will was paramount, or so humans had told her.

It's unnatural she would hear from their soft pink lips (but what natural being has pink lips and pink skin?) that something dictates their life goals to them, their purpose. But the Dream didn't dictate- it was for the good of all (and they didn't even HAVE a Dream...)

A hand reached out to her, drawing her closer, enveloping her softly within the folds of an intimate embrace. Gently, almost reverently, a hand stroked her head, wiling away the feeling of question.

The path resumed, stretching forwards into a dark tunnel. Bio-luminescent lanterns lined the pathway with a slightly eerie but comforting overtones of vermilion and deep amber, with a small hint of amethyst and sangria lying below her spectrum of sight.

I found them, you know, where they should not be. I put them in the pens back here, where we keep the hounds. Out of the way where they could not possibly hurt us. These things are just so destructive, are they not?”

Attention regained, she licked her lips and caught up. “Should we really? Why not just take them to the edge and leave them to go back to where they came from?” Bright, sea foam orbs looked towards those carmine pools. Trusting them to see it her way; it was okay, was it not, to let them go for once?

My dear, my sweet, sweet dear. You are of the Night Cycle, you know our secrets are needed. Remember, these low things, these unnatural things- they crawl about the Earth and Land and spoil it. This will allow them to contribute to life again! Think of all the growing and the living and the nurturing we can make with their help! They came here to ruin, to desecrate and we cannot let that happen!”

The honeyed voice plied her sensibilities well. There was a point, a very good one. She knew all too well the awful and evil things they had committed against the very nature that birthed them. Well, nature birthed her but she was not so sure nature had birthed them. She oft had wondered if they were some minion of an entity Other than nature.

Slipping back into the words coming from beside her, she began to comprehend again after collecting her thoughts, slipping a little on the forest floor as the hand tugged her forward more insistently.

“Is not tonight a most auspicious night indeed? The rest of the world is so consumed and obsessed with that Mad King of theirs; here we may ply the work of Nature alone, uninterrupted and to the fullest extent and potential that can be obtained!” A small silence before, “Ah we have arrived.”

Whimpers reached her ears, tickling at the soft ferns tucked into her lobes. Wrinkling her nose, she reflexively closed them to muffle the sound. It was pathetic, the crawling, the whining and whimpers. They truly did behave like an ill-bred fern hound. Mud and leaves caked them, looking awkward and ruinous upon their clothing, woven from butchered fiber and skins. So brutal and so unforgivable.

“I have always thought their dressings to be so brutal and unforgivably cruel to animals around them.” She whispered, drawing close to her companion in a small reach for comfort.

Shh, we'll fix that. They will soon be helping us give life to this grove. We will bring paradise to this land- land they have been so wasteful with. This is far from Mother, but even here, oh yes, our reach will grow. Our Dream will come to fruition no matter the cost...” Delicate gray hands grasped hers and drew her closer, prompting them to crouch down to the ground, close to a male watching them warily.

“Yes, our Dream. Nature must prevail. We shall grow the largest, most beautiful boughs of life and green and wonder...” Agreeing, she watched as a hand snapped out, grasped the creature and dragged it forwards, into the middle of the alcove. The stones had already been placed, with runes for earth, water, air and fire etched into the cardinal points and the center holding nature overlaid on top of sacrifice, drawn in blood of some kind. Likely she mused, from a fern hound that was not a prime candidate for training.

“Now, my love, as the moon reaches the zenith, we will strike, and bring life to this corner of Ascalon. The most beautiful strawberries will grow here- imagine it. Here in this dump that those Charr have abandoned, with their metal workings and poisonous fires, we will grow the biggest strawberry patch anyone shall have the luck to find!”

Again, that niggling hesitation made her nibble at her lip. “But... it is so violent.”

“You would do anything to see your Dream, your Hunt come true?” The soft voice plied.


Then look at me.” A hand drew her face closer, their noses almost touching, so close... “This is for all. We will bring the very Earth to the far corners; peace, tranquility and a never ending life of no conflict for all shall be one.”


One. Together.” Their lips drew together, a soft touch, then an almost eager questing for more. She had always wanted the questions, the chase and the thrill. And she had been the perfect complement, always seeking the answers.

Yes...” Faolain's soft hand held hers with the knife and before she knew it, sliced below. Blood pooled beneath them, seeping around them as they knelt in the soil, interlocked in an intimate embrace. Crimson blood from the undesirable creature reached each cardinal stone and the circle flared to life. Almost instantaneously, the very land around them erupted in deep forested plantation, soft grass carpeting the floor beneath, and even a river of water creating a tiered waterfall cascaded down, bringing the very life-blood of nature to the whole area. And the sweet scent of strawberries filled her nose, like a song almost. Perfect...

And barely perceptible, under it all, a dark maniacal laughter floated beneath her world, her world clutched tight to her in the lover's embrace. It slipped in lightly, but deeply- the darkness penetrating the light of the full moon on the night that humans, like the creature underneath them, called Halloween. A terrible darkness- and Faolain laughed with delight.

Do you feel it Caithe? This is Life! This is where we come from! This is what we were meant to BE!”

Entranced and bewitched, the horror grew in her very skin. Something else was here.

And Caithe was terrified.

Edited by Taki

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Dust to Dust


As the moon rose to complete the night sky, the old ball room breathed a new life as if awaken by the beams of light flooding through the windows joining in with the flickering of candles framing the room. Soft murmurs of laughter and clinging glasses mixed to form a melody that seemed to lift the happy couple to their feet and slowly drift to the dance floor their eyes never leaving the other. His gloved hand twists around her pale fingers as a band picks up the beat now slowly playing a waltz that consumed the chaos around the jubilant couple. Swirls of white lace wrapped around the face of the young bride could not hide her turned lips of pure joy as her groom held her in perfect form. His eyes locked into the figure before him, his perfect stance breaking, and her lips too taunting to hold back were kissed with a passion that would linger for an eternity. They freeze on the dance floor, a moment locked in place. Their sudden stop making the dust spring to life. The beams of light shining onto them as they were crystal, the roar of the crowd fell upon no one’s ears as the image of the two lovers played out before them. The dust seemed to increase as there is a distant cry of panic. The light from the candles begins to overtake the radiance of the bride. The young man taking his newly joined soul to him and in haste never sees the gold from his hand fall. The light seems to grow until it is an inferno ready to consume all the life in the room. Then the harsh light of a foreign source filled the room as the roar became the creak of a door not opened in decades. The dust still flying started to settle on cracked floors and broken chairs. The walls faded and stained with the remnants of burned paintings and starches of fingernails from the trapped dying. The fluorescent glow of a light spell tore across the broken windows still with the charred bars and wood from old shutters too big to be forced open and fell on a dull now twisted ring lying where it was dropped and forgotten in the moment. The old druid charged with watching the old place in Divinity's Reach scratches his head swearing he could have heard music, but shutting the door, he locked it again with heavy chains and walks back to his post not hearing the long forgotten band strike up again to watch the couple dance their waltz in the moonlight.


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He stumbles down the rocky path, almost crashing into the wall as he rounds the corner into a dead end. The wall bubbles and boils: from it, a ghastly skull emerges, blood red and laughing at him. He curses under his breath, turning on his heels and immediately trips over cobwebs and rubble. He hears the skull sneer at him, thinks he hears running footsteps and courtier screeches in the night. He spits blood as he gets up and stumbles out of the dead end, ducks into the next alley and runs until he crashes down again, wheezing blood and sweat.


He hears a scream in the distance. Was that Christina? Lucille? Maybe it was Brent. He doesn't know: not sure he cares, either. Anymore. He's been part of this deadly game for far too long to worry for any others. He realizes, with a dull ache, that he can't even remember their faces.


He grits his teeth and scrapes his fingers on the gravel. He needs to get up. Needs to run, needs to hide. Survive the night. He hears rustling somewhere behind him and scrambles to move off the path, pressing his back firmly against the wall. He feels blindly for anything to defend himself with: his fingers find something long and sleek, light and cold in his hand. He brings it closer to his face and sees it's a bone. A while ago – a lifetime, it feels like – it would have shocked him. Disgusted him. Now, he grips it tightly, feeling its form and weight. It's not much, but it might be enough to buy him time.


He starts down the cobblestones again, holding the bone to his chest as a scared child might his favorite stuffed toy. How long until dawn? He glances into the sky, where the mad moon peers down at him, laughing at his struggle. He can't tell. Nights and days blur into one and he just doesn't know.


He's so tired. Just as he thinks he might just give in, lay down and let go, something snaps under his foot and flames burst from the ground, blinding him, burning him. He cries out from surprise and pain, shielding his face with his arms as he stumbles forward and drops to the ground, rolling to quench the flames feasting on his clothes and his flesh. Now he's sure he hears footsteps, the mad dancing steps of a dozen courtiers, and their screeching laughter and rabid joy.


Smoke and the smell of his own burnt hair and flesh sting his eyes as he struggles to get to his feet before the courtiers' claws reach him. He sees one of them from the corner of his eye and chucks his bone at it, rushing past as it shrieks from disappointment and sways in place, stunned by the hit. He dodges to the side as another lunges at him from a side alley he passes, its shrill cry freezing his heart and nearly his feet.


He runs and he runs, but they follow. Until at last he rounds a corner, jumping over rubble and cobwebs, and finds himself face to face with a blood-red skull, howling in lunatic laughter.


He hears the courtiers closing in, and knows it's over. He's lost the game. He closes his eyes, trying to drown the cacophony of courtier screeches and mad laughter in a hum of his own.


"So lend me your ear and I'll fill it with fear, as I sing of the Mad King Thorn…"


(Last minute submission yaaaay)

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