Permission: Manteekan

In a convergence of swirling shadows and unseasonable hail and snow, the phantasmagoric figure of Manteekan, the Nightmare coalesces in violent whorls, His attention fixed squarely upon you.

Between the branches of a fallen tree.
It is quite mild. A thick net of branches form a barely stable platform to traverse between the northwestern banks of the dell and the fallen tree that spans the length of the ditch. Sharp twigs move quickly to swing at anything that passes through, scratching and clawing. Few leaves grow here, those that remain having become brown and shrivelled long ago. A sedge of galingale is firmly planted in the forest floor. A marjoram bush flourishes here, spreading its delicate scent. Lovely coltsfoot carpets the forest floor. Sprays of chervil cover the forest floor. Casting darkness all around, a shadow totem thrusts up from the ground, chilling the air. Shadowy mists and blackthorn blossoms obscure a shrine of dark black crystal that stands here. A hemlock sapling clings tenaciously to the ground here. A giant wasp hovers here, buzzing menacingly. Manteekan, the Nightmare hangs here hazily, His presence nothing more than a chilled mist that drifts hauntingly through the air.
There are no obvious exits.

You blink.

You give Manteekan a respectful bow, one hand clasped over your heart.

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you murmur, "Darkest tidings, Lord Nightmare."

Nearly transparent flesh is pulled taut over a tall, lanky and ectomorphic frame. Hanging in the air like a veil of fine mist, the presence of this immortal seems nothing more than a chill upon the skin. A ghastly aura hangs around His figure, manifesting in a cool fog that gathers at His feet, the miasma roiling like an impending storm. The collected mist beneath Him carries him aloft, His slender and nearly skeletal feet never touching the ground. What can be seen of His facial features must have once been fair; handsome if not for His otherwise spectral existence. His unnaturally long, needle-like fingers constantly fidget, as though grasping at something unseen. His intense, icy blue stare is the most corporeal thing about Him, as though His eyes are more real than He is, swirling with internal vortices of ice and snow.

Ghastly alabaster locks billow behind His head, each thread glowing white as it whips frantically through the air behind Him. Icy mist trails behind each strand as it thrashes about, slowly drifting to the ground to settle in a cloud of haze that churns about His feet.
He is wearing:
a torturous noose of thorn and vine
billowing robes of a chilled mist

Musing, Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "The tidings so dark that nothing could ever return from them, such a lack of colour and depth as mortals have never seen or endured."

You tilt your head inquisitively.

Manteekan inhales, drawing Himself completely upright. "I come in answer to your prayers, my child." The hush of His voice whispers inbetween the trees. As if noticing it for the first time, His attention diverts from directly upon you, to a shield shrine of Nocht.

You have emoted: Esei bows their head politely. "Ah, the Gala, Lord?"

Distracted, Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "If that is what it is called, certainly. Do you mean to pay Me homage?"

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you whisper, "Aye - You would fit the theme quite well, if You do not mind my saying so. You are... the Nightmare. A hero to some, and a villain to others." They pause briefly, casting a glance at the shrine themself. "Though I've another suitable, if You would prefer."

Manteekan erupts into a horrendous cackle, the shrill laughter sending a slow chill down your spine as it peals into the distance.

Manteekan moves smoothly around the sides of the shrine, murmuring softly the words which surround it between blackthorns, causing them to alight at His incantation, unheard. He focuses his gaze upon you again. "You may. I shouldn't want to deprive you the enjoyment of pretending to be Me, afterall. I admit, I had hoped to cause more trepidation, waiting until the last minute." He sighs, disappointed.

You have emoted: Esei eyes Manteekan as the Elder moves around the shrine, a faint tension in their shoulders. "Well, it was certainly... suspenseful, Lord Nightmare," they say, and pause. "I did have another question for You, if You are willing to humor it. Entirely unrelated, of course."

Manteekan purses His lips, His expression somewhat unscrutable. "I will listen. I may not answer." He pauses at the end of the very last syllable, as though there was more unspoken.

Tilting their head curiously, you say, "Is there a particular reason why You call me Your child? Or is it more that I am Shee-Slaugh?"

Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "Just so. You are Shee-Slaugh. There is no circumstance in which I will not claim My hand in that which I have caused to be."

You have emoted: Esei nods faintly, clasping their hands behind their back. "So I see. Thank You."

Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "Did you seek some deeper meaning from Me?"

You shake your head.

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you whisper, "Only curious."

Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "Very well. I shall take my leave, if there is nothing else? Enjoy your... celebration."

You give Manteekan a respectful bow, one hand clasped over your heart.

The incorporeal form of Manteekan, the Nightmare, dissolves into a cool mist which creeps hauntingly away into the distance, leaving behind naught but an eerie silence and an unsettling chill.

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you murmur, "And be well, Lord Manteekan."

You have emoted: Esei turns to regard the shrine, gently running their fingers along the top.

You think to yourself: Why did He...?