Information
Nyghtmayre
Legacy Name: Nyghtmayre
The
Common Experiment #76166Owner: AmethystWallflower
Age: 10 years, 11 months, 1 week
Born: April 23rd, 2015
Adopted: 10 years, 11 months, 1 week ago
Adopted: April 23rd, 2015
Statistics
- Level: 53
- Strength: 39
- Defense: 46
- Speed: 15
- Health: 43
- HP: 43/43
- Intelligence: 1
- Books Read: 1
- Food Eaten: 8
- Job: Stock Worker
Burning, burning, burning. Nyghtmayre must keep the fires burning. Mistress wants the fires to burn while she is away. So much trust in Nyghtmayre, so must trust. To guard her home while she hides. No, no… Mistress does not hide…cowards hide...Mistress is no coward… Mistress waits… Yes, she waits. Must keep the fires burning! Books and archives, but not the specials… Mistress’ lover’s clothes and bedding in to feed the flares. Bodies and things, bodies and things. Nyghtmayre must call upon her when asked. Nyghtmayre must find Mistress and remind her of the fire. Because Mistress waits on a plane known to few. Mistress… the time is nearing…
A large creature with the body appearance of a black dragon and a tail unnaturally long and whip-like flicking back and forth as if showing agitation, bustled from room to room throughout a large home in obvious urgency. When he wasn’t inside the home feeding every fireplace that blazed within the walls, he was out blending within the shadows, totally invisible, collecting items to thrust into the fire to keep them alive. He collected everything that he deemed unimportant to basic life but important to his needs; things from newspapers by the masses, to discarded clothing and forgotten trash, to even during his darker and more frequently occurring manic episodes villagers of no desertion. Nyghtmayre was acting upon the orders of his long-wainting ruler, Queen Vindico. A Queen engulfed by the pure essence of fire and embraced it as a tool to rule. Nyghtmayre openly adored her and jumped at any order she Fire Queen gave. So naturally, when she left her home and throne with specific orders, he went mad in the time he spent fulfilling them.
Generations of people were born, and their lives run their courses while Nyghtmayre moved from fire to fire. With each generation the tale of his takings grew as the things he took did and was passed on and went from tall tale to common fear. No one ever knew his name, only the one the created for him themselves; The Twisted Ghost. Those that survived him were never the same and took on absurd precautions in hopes of deterring future visits. However, some were unlucky enough to be visited twice or more in their lifetimes by losing multiple family members or pets. However, there are two features that have become the only reoccurring fact besides his stealing, the one they base their name on, his face and the insane laughter that faintly echoes around him when he's near. His face is a pale mask, as if it used to hold some sort of skin color; where the eyes and nose would be there is just a smooth surface; his mouth is a wide-stretched hole filled with pointed teeth that constantly drip a deep purple saliva that glows neon; a pair of forever burning streams of flame protrude from the side seams of where the mask meets the slimy texture of his scaled face, therefore sealing the vaguely grotesque mask to his skull.
Over time the Underground place in which his Queen ruled not only adjusted to her absence but came to forget her greatness in time just like the mortal world grew to forget most of them and their darkness; only oddities like Nyghtmayre being openly known. Her home, which was once grand if not in size and stature but in longevity and elegance, faded into the black of history, blending into the surrounding trees deep within a forest filled with magic so dark its avoided by mortals. The magic that kept the building pristine had worn off with age, the only magic still beating through he walls like a bloodstream that was linked to the Queen directly was left. As long as the fires in the home burned and as long as Vindico was alive somewhere, the home would be hidden from all but those she wished to see it. To ensure that this magic would survive even her personal memory, Queen Vindico commanded her loyal servant to feed each fire in respect until her return. If he were to fail, it would not only cost him the safety of his home and his life, but the safety of his Queen as well, for if the fires were to die before the Queen herself returned to the home, it would be the end of her life consequently. The multiple burning fires, although meaning often forgotten in his isolated insanity, had a dual purpose of keeping Vindico hidden in the way that she could roam the mortal world without being found by her enemies. The cost of this powerful magic is the loss her memory until returned home to visit each fire individually and give her thanks for promised protection.
Nyghtmayre was told one would come to him when it was time to bring his Queen back, though, he was not given the slightest inkling of who, or even what, would come and give the word he’d been waiting so bloody long for. Until then, the madness that is continuously fueled by isolation grows while his loyalty never faults against his Queen.
Collect the sacrifice. Feed the fire. Protect the Queen. Guard her home. Collect the sacrifice. Feed the fire. Protect the Queen. Guard her home. Collect the sacrifice. Feed the fire. Protect the Queen. Guard her home.
The mantra is scribbled and carved into every surface of the place where Nyghtmayre sleeps when the creature does decide to rest. It’s painfully obvious he spends more time concentrating on his singular task rather than his own needs; there is no bed in the large, cave-like room that is located in the bowels of the home but only a space in the darkest corner where it seems he does spend his time resting, its void of any windows and contains only one entry point, residue from the thin slime that covers his scales created dried patterns on his most frequented spots, as well as dulled, dried purple saliva where he had spent several hours either staring at the scrawled words before him or from eating a meal that his stomach forced him to search for and consume.
Being the type of creature Nyghtmayre is, it wasn’t a difficult thing for him to slip into total insanity in the absence of another’s company. He is a chaotic, unpredictable and dangerous breed of demon when summed up, but few exist and fewer devote themselves so completely to another enough to look upon them as a master. Their minds require constant concentration from another interactive source. In this poor creature’s case, it is his Queen. Most of the others like him choose such things like 'pets' to keep them company rather than holding one at such high esteem as allowing them to not only the ability to challenge any opinion they have but overpower them completely. So, when one 'pet' lives its life and dies, they go in search of another ‘pet’ that merely serves the purpose of forced companionship. Nyghtmayre not only craves his isolation to preserve his self like a typical demon of his breed, but he also craves the acceptance and approval of the only one he deems that could destroy him.
He couldn’t even begin to tell exactly how long he spent alone tending to the fires before she came. It could have been close to two hundred years for all he knew or cared. What was time to him anyway when so few things could kill him? Lately it was just moments without his beloved and a count until he was granted permission to bring her back that counted time. He had been gone from his home for days now, collecting bodies in another one of his extreme manic episodes. It had been sparked by a singular thought creeping into the most wicked part of his mind, telling him that if the fires were fed mortals again that the protection against his beloved would strengthen, and maybe even by extension strengthen for himself as well. After countless hours of staring into the fire that was in the main living space of the home, Nyghtmayre pushed of the hardwood floor with such force that he left gouges in the wood where his claws gripped to gain sudden traction when the idea struck him. The idea was so sudden, so immediate and self-convincing that he was gone from the room without hesitation and his whip of a tail forcefully pulled several items from their homes to the floor on his way out.
Carried in his massive, black, tree-trunk arms were the cold and rigid bodies of at least a dozen people. There had been no rhyme or reason to his choosing other than he went for those his maddened mind deemed most worthy of being sacrificed. Pleasure at his good deed was etched across his mouth so vividly he didn’t need the use of eyes to show the sadistic expression, the emotion even vibrated in the quills that went down his spine and the base of his tail. Nyghtmayre travelled at a great speed to get back to his home, he had already been gone too long, regretfully letting time get away from him in the excitement of possibly aiding his beloved from afar, so when he slowed his pace to cross the threshold of the magical border, he did not notice her waiting for him until several seconds later.
The twisted smile dropped from his face the moment he saw Sentinelle standing in the doorway of his home. The vibration in his quills distinctively changed from joyous to threatening and he lowered his head below his shoulders and crept close to her. He had not seen Sentinelle since before his Mistress’ leave, but the sight of her told him that she was the one he was waiting for. It was also no secret that while she looked down upon him as the Queen’s demon servant dog, Nyghtmayre held a true distaste for the Mercenary as well. His bloodied claws clutched the dead bodies close to him, silently telling Sentinelle that there would be no forcing him to let them go. Very slowly he moved past her as she stepped aside for him and proceeded inside where she followed.
The faceless mask did not turn to face her once inside until after the first body had been thrown into the closest fireplace; a middle aged woman, rather plump and round in the face, her hair was long and somewhat thin from lack of proper vitamin intake but that was common for mortals in this era and her clothes held the layer of dirt that was typically found on the poor. Only then was it Sentinelle that broke the heavy silence.
“I assume through your madness you know why I am here, Nyghtmayre?” Her tone held obvious superiority over the demon. However no matter how much trust for the Queen she had, she would never hide the distrust she held for Nyghtmayre. It undeterred her how many centuries he had spent being completely devoted to the Queen, his kind were never as big on loyalty as he seemed to be. She had no doubt that Nyghtmayre’s case was one of pure obsession that was currently working in their favor rather than loyalty and found it difficult to understand how he was trusted with such an important, even though mundane, task as feeding the fires. She stayed quiet as Nyghtmayre tossed another body, a young child, into the fire before finally lifting her head and turning it to him directly.
Gripping the remaining bodies closer to him like dolls his straight mouth stretched into a wide, toothy grin, purple saliva dripping from several teeth and onto the faces and shoulders of the dead he held. “Nyghtmayre can find Mistress and bring her home…” His voice held a sense of void to it, an echo that shouldn’t be. He took a step forward and despite his hatred for Sentinelle, the ecstasy he was feeling at the sudden news prompted him to separate one of the bodies and offer it to her. “Give…?” He motioned to the fireplace in the next room with the young man who was nearly torn to shreds.
Repulsed by the offering, Sentinelle curled her lips back baring the fanged teeth and stepped away with a guttural growl. “Why she trusted such a task to a mentally unstable demon, I will never understand.” The comment was made under her breathe but it didn’t go unnoticed by the demon and he snatched the body away from her as if she were contemplating taking it from him and sneered.
“Mistress trusted me because unlike you my bloodlust does not consume me in ways that hinder her.” The words came out in a snarl. However, the next came out on the heels of his own laughter as he glided past her and into the next room, depositing another two bodies into the flames. “Mistress trusts me with her home and personal affects like a friend, she trusts you with her killings and dark deeds like a servant.”
“She trusts me with her killings because I am the best at what I do, and she prefer her hands stay clean, Canine.” She said the last word with acidity. It took a bit of concentration to not indulge the demon with any further petty arguments on who the Queen loved more like bickering children fighting over who mommy loves best. Sentinelle allowed the image of killing the creature fill her mind before following him out with more leveled emotions; her bloodlust was something she could not argue against, it was a staple in her entire being. She took a deep intake of stale air to steady her rage and gripped the handle of her weapon with dangerous strength.
There was silence between the two of them until Nyghtmayre’s hands were clear of bodies and they stood in the last and smallest of the fire rooms. Glowing, purple drool dripped from the corners of his mouth while it hung open allowing him to breathe, his faceless head cocked to the side and his dragon body sat back on his hind legs to face the smaller demon. He brought his hands together and twisted the talons around themselves in endless movement. Sentinelle paced restlessly in front of the beast and eyed him very carefully.
Finally, she spoke and when she did she made it obvious how delicate he needed to be, “She hides in a desert in the southern United States known as New Mexico.” Her knuckles turned white against her dark skin and it took several deep breathes to release her grip on the weapon and continue. “You are to locate her and bring her back.” The instructions were clear that it was to be him that brought her home, and again it was difficult for her to grasp why he had to be allowed such tasks. She could easily travel to this place on her own, locate the Queen and bring her back home. Sending Nyghtmayre in his current mental state was risking unnecessary exposure and the death of Vindico before she was fully restored.
Nyghtmayre clapped his hands together in anticipation and ran his deep purple tongue over what would typically be lips. He lowered himself to a half bow, never removing his eyeless gaze from his forced associate and reached for the floor with his bloodied front claws. Before they hit the ground however, they had shrunk back to form slimmer arms that held a more natural olive tone, a fire singed gown cascaded over newly form female curves and a fire burned in his eyes that matched the fire that blazed behind him. Despite the marvelous transformation into Queen Vindico, Sentinelle remained unfazed. In a voice that matched Vindico’s he repeated her last known location and dissolved on the spot leaving the mercenary standing alone.
An eerie feeling that he was not going to be as initially delicate on the situation settled on Sentinelle. She imagined the destruction Nyghtmayre may possibly cause given the state he was in when he arrived back on the property. It was clear he was not in his more lucid of times and it was just as unclear how long it had been since the last time his mind really saw lucidity at all. With a deep intake of breath, she refocused her mind on the task now at hand being satisfied that each fire had been sufficiently fed given she had watched Nyghtmayre toss two human bodies into each, the house was well hidden and protected and she set off away from the home.
A large creature with the body appearance of a black dragon and a tail unnaturally long and whip-like flicking back and forth as if showing agitation, bustled from room to room throughout a large home in obvious urgency. When he wasn’t inside the home feeding every fireplace that blazed within the walls, he was out blending within the shadows, totally invisible, collecting items to thrust into the fire to keep them alive. He collected everything that he deemed unimportant to basic life but important to his needs; things from newspapers by the masses, to discarded clothing and forgotten trash, to even during his darker and more frequently occurring manic episodes villagers of no desertion. Nyghtmayre was acting upon the orders of his long-wainting ruler, Queen Vindico. A Queen engulfed by the pure essence of fire and embraced it as a tool to rule. Nyghtmayre openly adored her and jumped at any order she Fire Queen gave. So naturally, when she left her home and throne with specific orders, he went mad in the time he spent fulfilling them.
Generations of people were born, and their lives run their courses while Nyghtmayre moved from fire to fire. With each generation the tale of his takings grew as the things he took did and was passed on and went from tall tale to common fear. No one ever knew his name, only the one the created for him themselves; The Twisted Ghost. Those that survived him were never the same and took on absurd precautions in hopes of deterring future visits. However, some were unlucky enough to be visited twice or more in their lifetimes by losing multiple family members or pets. However, there are two features that have become the only reoccurring fact besides his stealing, the one they base their name on, his face and the insane laughter that faintly echoes around him when he's near. His face is a pale mask, as if it used to hold some sort of skin color; where the eyes and nose would be there is just a smooth surface; his mouth is a wide-stretched hole filled with pointed teeth that constantly drip a deep purple saliva that glows neon; a pair of forever burning streams of flame protrude from the side seams of where the mask meets the slimy texture of his scaled face, therefore sealing the vaguely grotesque mask to his skull.
Over time the Underground place in which his Queen ruled not only adjusted to her absence but came to forget her greatness in time just like the mortal world grew to forget most of them and their darkness; only oddities like Nyghtmayre being openly known. Her home, which was once grand if not in size and stature but in longevity and elegance, faded into the black of history, blending into the surrounding trees deep within a forest filled with magic so dark its avoided by mortals. The magic that kept the building pristine had worn off with age, the only magic still beating through he walls like a bloodstream that was linked to the Queen directly was left. As long as the fires in the home burned and as long as Vindico was alive somewhere, the home would be hidden from all but those she wished to see it. To ensure that this magic would survive even her personal memory, Queen Vindico commanded her loyal servant to feed each fire in respect until her return. If he were to fail, it would not only cost him the safety of his home and his life, but the safety of his Queen as well, for if the fires were to die before the Queen herself returned to the home, it would be the end of her life consequently. The multiple burning fires, although meaning often forgotten in his isolated insanity, had a dual purpose of keeping Vindico hidden in the way that she could roam the mortal world without being found by her enemies. The cost of this powerful magic is the loss her memory until returned home to visit each fire individually and give her thanks for promised protection.
Nyghtmayre was told one would come to him when it was time to bring his Queen back, though, he was not given the slightest inkling of who, or even what, would come and give the word he’d been waiting so bloody long for. Until then, the madness that is continuously fueled by isolation grows while his loyalty never faults against his Queen.
Collect the sacrifice. Feed the fire. Protect the Queen. Guard her home. Collect the sacrifice. Feed the fire. Protect the Queen. Guard her home. Collect the sacrifice. Feed the fire. Protect the Queen. Guard her home.
The mantra is scribbled and carved into every surface of the place where Nyghtmayre sleeps when the creature does decide to rest. It’s painfully obvious he spends more time concentrating on his singular task rather than his own needs; there is no bed in the large, cave-like room that is located in the bowels of the home but only a space in the darkest corner where it seems he does spend his time resting, its void of any windows and contains only one entry point, residue from the thin slime that covers his scales created dried patterns on his most frequented spots, as well as dulled, dried purple saliva where he had spent several hours either staring at the scrawled words before him or from eating a meal that his stomach forced him to search for and consume.
Being the type of creature Nyghtmayre is, it wasn’t a difficult thing for him to slip into total insanity in the absence of another’s company. He is a chaotic, unpredictable and dangerous breed of demon when summed up, but few exist and fewer devote themselves so completely to another enough to look upon them as a master. Their minds require constant concentration from another interactive source. In this poor creature’s case, it is his Queen. Most of the others like him choose such things like 'pets' to keep them company rather than holding one at such high esteem as allowing them to not only the ability to challenge any opinion they have but overpower them completely. So, when one 'pet' lives its life and dies, they go in search of another ‘pet’ that merely serves the purpose of forced companionship. Nyghtmayre not only craves his isolation to preserve his self like a typical demon of his breed, but he also craves the acceptance and approval of the only one he deems that could destroy him.
He couldn’t even begin to tell exactly how long he spent alone tending to the fires before she came. It could have been close to two hundred years for all he knew or cared. What was time to him anyway when so few things could kill him? Lately it was just moments without his beloved and a count until he was granted permission to bring her back that counted time. He had been gone from his home for days now, collecting bodies in another one of his extreme manic episodes. It had been sparked by a singular thought creeping into the most wicked part of his mind, telling him that if the fires were fed mortals again that the protection against his beloved would strengthen, and maybe even by extension strengthen for himself as well. After countless hours of staring into the fire that was in the main living space of the home, Nyghtmayre pushed of the hardwood floor with such force that he left gouges in the wood where his claws gripped to gain sudden traction when the idea struck him. The idea was so sudden, so immediate and self-convincing that he was gone from the room without hesitation and his whip of a tail forcefully pulled several items from their homes to the floor on his way out.
Carried in his massive, black, tree-trunk arms were the cold and rigid bodies of at least a dozen people. There had been no rhyme or reason to his choosing other than he went for those his maddened mind deemed most worthy of being sacrificed. Pleasure at his good deed was etched across his mouth so vividly he didn’t need the use of eyes to show the sadistic expression, the emotion even vibrated in the quills that went down his spine and the base of his tail. Nyghtmayre travelled at a great speed to get back to his home, he had already been gone too long, regretfully letting time get away from him in the excitement of possibly aiding his beloved from afar, so when he slowed his pace to cross the threshold of the magical border, he did not notice her waiting for him until several seconds later.
The twisted smile dropped from his face the moment he saw Sentinelle standing in the doorway of his home. The vibration in his quills distinctively changed from joyous to threatening and he lowered his head below his shoulders and crept close to her. He had not seen Sentinelle since before his Mistress’ leave, but the sight of her told him that she was the one he was waiting for. It was also no secret that while she looked down upon him as the Queen’s demon servant dog, Nyghtmayre held a true distaste for the Mercenary as well. His bloodied claws clutched the dead bodies close to him, silently telling Sentinelle that there would be no forcing him to let them go. Very slowly he moved past her as she stepped aside for him and proceeded inside where she followed.
The faceless mask did not turn to face her once inside until after the first body had been thrown into the closest fireplace; a middle aged woman, rather plump and round in the face, her hair was long and somewhat thin from lack of proper vitamin intake but that was common for mortals in this era and her clothes held the layer of dirt that was typically found on the poor. Only then was it Sentinelle that broke the heavy silence.
“I assume through your madness you know why I am here, Nyghtmayre?” Her tone held obvious superiority over the demon. However no matter how much trust for the Queen she had, she would never hide the distrust she held for Nyghtmayre. It undeterred her how many centuries he had spent being completely devoted to the Queen, his kind were never as big on loyalty as he seemed to be. She had no doubt that Nyghtmayre’s case was one of pure obsession that was currently working in their favor rather than loyalty and found it difficult to understand how he was trusted with such an important, even though mundane, task as feeding the fires. She stayed quiet as Nyghtmayre tossed another body, a young child, into the fire before finally lifting her head and turning it to him directly.
Gripping the remaining bodies closer to him like dolls his straight mouth stretched into a wide, toothy grin, purple saliva dripping from several teeth and onto the faces and shoulders of the dead he held. “Nyghtmayre can find Mistress and bring her home…” His voice held a sense of void to it, an echo that shouldn’t be. He took a step forward and despite his hatred for Sentinelle, the ecstasy he was feeling at the sudden news prompted him to separate one of the bodies and offer it to her. “Give…?” He motioned to the fireplace in the next room with the young man who was nearly torn to shreds.
Repulsed by the offering, Sentinelle curled her lips back baring the fanged teeth and stepped away with a guttural growl. “Why she trusted such a task to a mentally unstable demon, I will never understand.” The comment was made under her breathe but it didn’t go unnoticed by the demon and he snatched the body away from her as if she were contemplating taking it from him and sneered.
“Mistress trusted me because unlike you my bloodlust does not consume me in ways that hinder her.” The words came out in a snarl. However, the next came out on the heels of his own laughter as he glided past her and into the next room, depositing another two bodies into the flames. “Mistress trusts me with her home and personal affects like a friend, she trusts you with her killings and dark deeds like a servant.”
“She trusts me with her killings because I am the best at what I do, and she prefer her hands stay clean, Canine.” She said the last word with acidity. It took a bit of concentration to not indulge the demon with any further petty arguments on who the Queen loved more like bickering children fighting over who mommy loves best. Sentinelle allowed the image of killing the creature fill her mind before following him out with more leveled emotions; her bloodlust was something she could not argue against, it was a staple in her entire being. She took a deep intake of stale air to steady her rage and gripped the handle of her weapon with dangerous strength.
There was silence between the two of them until Nyghtmayre’s hands were clear of bodies and they stood in the last and smallest of the fire rooms. Glowing, purple drool dripped from the corners of his mouth while it hung open allowing him to breathe, his faceless head cocked to the side and his dragon body sat back on his hind legs to face the smaller demon. He brought his hands together and twisted the talons around themselves in endless movement. Sentinelle paced restlessly in front of the beast and eyed him very carefully.
Finally, she spoke and when she did she made it obvious how delicate he needed to be, “She hides in a desert in the southern United States known as New Mexico.” Her knuckles turned white against her dark skin and it took several deep breathes to release her grip on the weapon and continue. “You are to locate her and bring her back.” The instructions were clear that it was to be him that brought her home, and again it was difficult for her to grasp why he had to be allowed such tasks. She could easily travel to this place on her own, locate the Queen and bring her back home. Sending Nyghtmayre in his current mental state was risking unnecessary exposure and the death of Vindico before she was fully restored.
Nyghtmayre clapped his hands together in anticipation and ran his deep purple tongue over what would typically be lips. He lowered himself to a half bow, never removing his eyeless gaze from his forced associate and reached for the floor with his bloodied front claws. Before they hit the ground however, they had shrunk back to form slimmer arms that held a more natural olive tone, a fire singed gown cascaded over newly form female curves and a fire burned in his eyes that matched the fire that blazed behind him. Despite the marvelous transformation into Queen Vindico, Sentinelle remained unfazed. In a voice that matched Vindico’s he repeated her last known location and dissolved on the spot leaving the mercenary standing alone.
An eerie feeling that he was not going to be as initially delicate on the situation settled on Sentinelle. She imagined the destruction Nyghtmayre may possibly cause given the state he was in when he arrived back on the property. It was clear he was not in his more lucid of times and it was just as unclear how long it had been since the last time his mind really saw lucidity at all. With a deep intake of breath, she refocused her mind on the task now at hand being satisfied that each fire had been sufficiently fed given she had watched Nyghtmayre toss two human bodies into each, the house was well hidden and protected and she set off away from the home.
Pet Treasure
Hazel Jellied Eyeball
Driftwood Plushie
Pet Friends
Vindico
Nyghtmayre lives to serve Mistress...
Sentinelle
Where she goes, blood follows