From The Journal of Deacon Alestair Yfrail, Initiate of the Silent Brethren of the Illuminated Night - "Men say dreams are figments of the imagination, repressed thoughts, aberrant bursts of electrochemical energy. Men say their dreams are their own, shared by none, no more real than the fantasies that curl in the base of their individual minds. Well and good. It is their right to believe such things. The dark things tell a more complicated story, when they trouble themselves to say anything at all: they say that dreams are, in their own way, real. They live off minds, thoughts, and powers, travelling from brain to brain, present in all of them at once, seeding emotion and imagery that eventually erupts in a newborn dream. Nightmares are not a bit different from this. They live, breathe, and breed upon terror, lurking in the dark space between minds. As long as one may find fear of something, may instill fear of oneself, one may live, and grow, and feed. The creature that is the nightmare of ravenous clowns moves from mind to mind, and lives in many at once. The dark mirror of man haunts the wide worlds, for all fear what they are and what they might become. The horrors, out their in the darkness, are the primal fears, and we are their food. They are the darkness that the light casts in shadow. And one of them - May Mu curse his name - is a boy. He is the child that nurses at its mother's breast before ripping her open neck to sternum, the ravenous toddler who devours its father's liver with a silver spoon and a playful grin: Ghrazk. Mu curse his name.
From The Journal of Deacon Alestair Yfrail, Initiate of the Silent Brethren of the Illuminated Night - "Who knows when, or how, the Shallow Guild of Bleak Sunrise came by their accursed bargain? Did he approach them first, or they him? All I know is what he wants to be: real. Like the butcher who comes to love his pigs, like the actor who loves his part, he came to identify with the children, long for their innocense, wish for their joy. He became a demented Pinnochio, the Horror ThatWanted To Be A Real Boy, unable to achieve his goal. And then the Guild found him, and struck a deal. Fifty years of bloody service in trade for ten years of blissful innocense and physical form. With endless options for renewal.
Shadows of the Quiet Mind...
Illusion Creation: Standard
From The Journal of Deacon Alestair Yfrail, Initiate of the Silent Brethren of the Illuminated Night - "What was our fault? Pride. In our ignorance, in our hubris, we did struggle with the Shallow Guild of Bleak Sunrise for control of several of their greater entities, did contend even for the interest of the Seven Lords of Earth. And they sent their poison-voiced butcher for us. He came in the night, the first night, and with him the legions of Nemeses, the Fears and Horrors that stalk every man of power, be he engineer, politician, or mage: the fears which are not tangible, and so may not be slain, yet wound all the same."
We Are All Frail...
Psychic Vampire: Superior
From The Journal of Deacon Alestair Yfrail, Initiate of the Silent Brethren of the Illuminated Night - "We were not children. In the service of Odegra and Ancient Mu, in walking the world lines, we had seen all manners of terror, been tormented by half the demons in spacious hell and mastered them with the power of our thought, even turned a few against the Shallow Guild. Yet, trying to master him in the same way, all our great powers failed. He saw in our powers our weaknesses, the hidden fears of our soul, and drank from them. Even Archlord Keynes found fear in his heart. We bent our wills to oppose him, and terror leapt to a new height in the shadows..."
No Candle Without Its Shadow
Energy Absorption: Ultimate
From The Journal of Deacon Alestair Yfrail, Initiate of the Silent Brethren of the Illuminated Night - "We were not defenseless, although our powers of the mind had proved futile. Flame fell upon him and the nightmare world he conjured. Lightning rent the ngiht. Space tore about his boy's body. Light streamed from our hands, darkness embraced him, and, if anything, his army of fears reared higher to strike. But before they hit home... I fled."
Touch the Fear...
Kinetic Absorption: Ultimate
Deacon Alestair Yfrail, late Initiate of the Silent Brethren of the Illuminated Night, started, and laid his day book on the table, hand still shaking from the horror of the record. There had been a sound - small, silent, but undoubtedly sound. He placed the fountain pen atop the closed book and stood, turning away from his chair and the warm flame. Aged eyes, shot with cataract and rheum, reddened from years of studying the greater glories of the Darkness Odegra and Ancient Mu, peered through the darkness as another might the day. The door, triple-sealed with spell and curse, was closed. The integrity of the place was intact. None had come, and none had left, since he sat down to write his tale of horror. The silence stretched, and he waited, a scared old man in the darkness. A shadow fell upon the room, and young laughter echoed in his ears. Karsh turned, a blur of robes and trailing white hair, and there he stood, blonde hair glowing in the firelight, The Curse of Mu be on his name for all time - the child, the nightmare, the Horror That Wanted To Be A Real Boy, Ghrazk, suspended like an eclipsing planet between the old man and the flame. Alestair screamed one last curse in defiance and leapt for the child, reaching out to throttle him, to snap his neck like he had done for so many children before. His hands closed around flesh... The boy smiled, and the terrors in the darkness grew strong, and leapt upon Deacon Alestair Yfrail.