Mordacai has a minion!

Whisper the Snowflaik


The Darkmatter Tigrean
Owner: Feline

Age: 7 years, 8 months, 3 weeks

Born: May 28th, 2011

Adopted: 1 year, 6 months, 5 days ago

Adopted: August 17th, 2017

Pet Spotlight Winner
February 10th, 2018


  • Level: 13
  • Strength: 21
  • Defense: 16
  • Speed: 16
  • Health: 15
  • HP: 15/15
  • Intelligence: 10
  • Books Read: 8
  • Food Eaten: 14
  • Job: Graveyard Shift Errand Runner

Haunted Bookshelf

Mordacai wasn't sure why he'd agreed to check the hotel out, the details all seemed rather boring and typical of haunted locations. Random knocks, disembodied voices, misty apparitions, this place apparently had it all. Driving down the small road that led to the building, he couldn't help but marvel at the beauty. An old fashioned Victorian mansion, grand sweeping drive-way and large gardens spread out before him. Even if nothing came of this supposed haunting, he'd at least be staying in comfort. As he parked and grabbed his equipment from the back seat, he idly looked around. Everything seemed so calm and pristine, it was hard to believe the tales he's heard of people fleeing this place in fear.

The front entrance was just as grand as the outside, leaning up against the front desk he rang the bell, gaze sweeping the various seating areas dotted around. Several well stuffed arm chairs sat in front of a slowly dying fire and he could easily see himself relaxing there, staring idly into the flames.

Can I help you, Sir? He jumped, breaking into a small smile at the young woman behind the desk. He nodded, letting her know who he was and why he was here. Without a word she turned, grabbing an old key from the shelf behind her and pressing it into his hand.
Just up the stairs, all the way at the end of the hallway. You're brave to go in there She laughed nervously as she pointed him in the direction he needed.

Mordacai thanked her, grabbing a few information brochures as he passed, glancing down at the faded paper tag attached to the key. Room 13. He couldn't help but roll his eyes a little, this was all starting to play out like some cliché little B-movie.

The room was simple enough, double bed in the centre of the room facing a fireplace, desk standing in front of the large windows. Outside the branches of a dead tree threatening to scratch against the glass. He figured more than a few of the 'hauntings' experienced here could be linked back to that same tree and a stormy night. A thin layer of dust covered the mantle and desk, probably due to maids being too afraid to clean and the room not being rented out. Typical story, there was no need to make a complaint about it. He swept the dust off the table with one arm, setting up his recording equipment before settling down on the bed to read the brochures. It was full of the stereotypical ghost stories; ghostly figures seen in the window of this room, mysterious fog caught on camera, voices heard when no-one was around and knocks coming from the walls. The brochures advertised various ghost tours and all offered different explanations for the activity experienced around the grounds.

One caught his eye. A séance was being held here tonight in the dining hall. If anything, it would be something to do.


There is a presence here Mordacai fought the urge to groan, instead settling to shake his head at the stereotypical Medium that sat before him. No one else saw his actions, too focused on keeping their eyes on the Medium in the flickering candle light. She threw back her head, causing the person next to him to jump and dig their nails into the back of his hand. He yawned, already expecting the possession that was to come next. So far the séance had been nothing but easily faked knocks, table tipping and poor acting. He couldn't wait for it all to be over and to head to bed.


He woke with a start, eyes wide as he tried to sit up and realised he couldn't. At first panic spread through his confused mind, but soon common sense crept in. There was nothing to worry about, it was simply a well timed case of sleep paralysis, it would all wear off soon enough. He took a breathe, eyes fixed on the ceiling, and began to count off seconds.

10 … 20 … 30 … 40 …

Any second now he should be able to move again, he glanced down and if he could scream, he would have woken the whole hotel. A shadow was perched at the end of the bed, small glowing red eyes fixed on him. Only now did he realise that the scratching noise he had assumed was the tree against the window was a whisper. Low, continuous and in a language he didn't understand. The shadow began to move, forming itself into a four legged beast as it slowly crawled up his body. Liquid shadow dripped from its grinning jaws, warm as it fell against the sheets, eyes unblinking. It stopped, one clawed paw against his throat, shadowed teeth inches from his face. He could feel the things cold breathe against his face, feel the bite of its claws as it pressed its weight down, cutting off his airway. Around him he could just make out the room starting to decay and rot, the wallpaper falling to the ground in the gloom. The whispers stopped as the creature of shadow finally blinked, tilting its head and letting out one single word.


Mordacai's world faded to black.


The alarm clock blared, causing him to stir awake with a groan, one hand reaching out from below the duvet to blindly bash the machine to make it stop. He yawned, barely remembering what had happened last night and not exactly willing to recall it. It must have been a dream anyhow, the bed sheets contained no trace of the dripping shadows and the room was nothing short of pristine. A few small drops of blood caught his attention and he lifted a hand to his neck, feeling the rough scratches and dried blood beneath his fingers. He froze, his blood running cold. There had to be an explanation for this, maybe he just scratched himself in his sleep. He hastily dragged the night-vision camera and laptop from the desk, sitting cross-legged on the bed as he ran though the recording. All seemed fine, a few knocks and creaks that could easily be explained away as normal hotel sounds. The timer in the corner clicked over to 3am and the screen went to static, the speakers letting out a horrid screech.

He slammed the laptop shut, breathing heavily as he looked around in panic. It all had a reasonable explanation, but right now every fibre of his being told him to run. He got dressed and gathered up his things as quickly as possible, trying to keep his composure calm as he paid his bill and left.

The drive home was a blur, his mind focused on other things but finally he pulled up to his own home, the familiar sight reassuring and calming. He spent the day reading, doing anything to keep his mind off what had happened. Tomorrow he'd look into the technical glitch that had messed with his cameras, think about going back to the hotel to finish looking for an explanation for his write up. Right now, he just wanted to relax.


The digital clock beside his bed clicked over to 3am. Mordacai's eyes flicked open, his ears picking up the sound of whispers.


Profile - Feline
Story - Feline
Background -

Pet Treasure

Book of Spirit Photography

Woeful Mourning Spirit

Last Known Photos

Battered Camera

Whispering Spirit

Black Tangerine Laptop

Over Exposed Photo

Black Flashlight

Subeta Landmarks Photo Album

Jersey Devil Plushie

Sougara Wasteland Cowboy Old Photograph Print

Haunted Tree Prop

Not A Gym Bag

The Haunted Mansion

Dark Creepy Thing

Pet Friends