I do not own Ni No Kuni or it's amazing cast of characters. All I own is the little ghost story that I made for the story. Consider this my little Halloween gift from me to you! :)
Thunk, thunk, thunk- "Ow!"
"You okay, Ollie-boy?"
"Yeah…I just hit my hand…"
Oliver held his sore hand in his other and rubbed the aching skin. Hammering a tent peg in the ground with a wooden mallet can be a painful task if one is not careful, and unfortunately the young wizard wasn't paying enough attention.
Drippy's lantern jingled as he spoke. "Awright, if ya' say so." Suddenly there was a faint rustle in the nearby wilderness. His lantern continued to sway as he jerked his head left and right.
"…Um, what was that, Mr. Drippy?"
"Hmm…not sure. Probably just a wild animal or somethin'."
Just then, Esther's blonde-haired head popped up from behind another tent. "Hm? Did you guys say something?"
The fairy jumped in a one eighty degree turn to face the animal tamer. "Nah, we just heard something, but it's probably no biggie."
"You sure?" A gruff voice cut through the air as a certain scruffy man stood up from his tent. Swaine's jaded brown eyes scanned the nearby shrubbery of the southern Summerlands for any sort of threat.
"What, you scared it's a big, ugly monster that's going to eat us in our sleep?" Esther's teasing voice broadcasted. She bent back down behind her tent and rummaged through her bag for something while Swaine marched over, clearly ticked off by her suggestion.
"No, I am not scared of some made up beast! I was just making sure; the last thing we need is a fight, especially at night." He then cocked up an eyebrow and smirked. "Wait-are you scared, blondie?"
Her blue eyes rolled upwards as she pulled out a babana. "No, I'm not, but I still think you're a little scared, at least."
"Yeah right, and I'm the Queen of Ding Dong Dell." His wiry hands were rolled into fists and placed onto his hips as he bent towards the girl. "Last time I checked, I'm not a coward."
"Oh, yes you are!"
"Am not!"
"Are too!"
The duo stood up and almost charged at each other before a young man with luxuriant black hair came between them. The two struggled to reach each other out of malice but could not with Marcassin's arms holding them back by their shoulders.
"Gascon, Esther, please, this isn't the time to fight!"
Swaine and Esther stopped their struggling but still glared at each other. The prince's arm's relaxed; however, his green eyes didn't as worry swirled within his pupils.
"Okay, let's get two things straight," Swaine jabbed a finger towards Esther and Marcassin. "One, my name is Swaine, NOT Gascon. And two, I am NOT a coward. Capisce?"
The girl turned her head around with a pout as her braided ponytail whipped behind her head. "Hmph, I bet you'd chicken out at the very mention of a ghost story."
"Oh, like you wouldn't?"
Her blue eyes lashed back around. "Well, of course I wouldn't!"
"Says the girl who talks about nothing but fairy tales for kids."
The fierce blue fire in her eyes flared up. "Hey, it was just that one time at The Vault of Tears! I don't just obsess over fairy tales! Why, I've heard plenty of ghost stories!"
Drippy took interest at this. "Wait, you mean you know some scary stories? Oi, this sounds good!" He bounced up upon Oliver's head, excited. "I haven't heard a good ghost story in ages, mun!"
"Well, how about it, Swaine?" Esther turned towards the thin man with a challenging grin. "Are you up for a scary story from Al Mamoon?"
"Sure, although I doubt it'll be very scary."
"Oh, yes it will! It'll scare your ratty red socks off!"
"Yeah, sure you will; you do realize you're trying to scare a fully grown man here, don't you? I don't scare as easily as little blonde girls."
"Oi, this is proper excitin', ain't it, Ollie?" Drippy bounced back to the ground like an enthusiastic round ball. "Well, dun just stand there, buntin'! Let's pitch the tents, get some grub, and then it's scary story time! Tidy!"
The fairy jogged off, leaving a pale faced wizard behind. The boy clutched his hands together, nervous at the very idea of a bone-chilling tale. He was snapped out of his trance of worry as Esther's delicate hand pulled his wrist, forcing him to go with Esther.
"C'mon, Oliver! Let's hurry and get our tents set up! The sooner we do that and eat, the sooner we can all tell ghost stories!"
"U-Um, okay!" Oliver stuttered as he mentally gulped, trying to keep his fears at bay.
A few hours later, the moon had begun to rise, transforming the landscape into a dimension of shadowy silhouettes and silver illuminations. The tent that Oliver, Esther, Drippy, and Swaine had managed to squeeze into stood out from the mysterious shadows of the night with Drippy's lamp making the tent glow a bright orange from the outside and casting bold shapes against the tarp.
"Okay, is everybody rea-wait, where's Marcassin?" Esther scanned the slightly cramped space under the tent but failed to see the porcine prince.
Swaine, munching on a small sandwich, shrugged his thin shoulders. "He said we could start without him. He had to go do something."
Oliver stared curiously at the man. "What did he have to do?"
"I dunno. Takin' a leek, maybe?"
"Well, anyway," Esther bent over Drippy's lantern and let it's light cast eerie shadows against her face. "Shall we begin?"
"Oi, yeah! Tell us your story, lass!" The Lord High Lord of the Fairies nodded his lantern vigorously.
"Might as well get it over with, blondie." Swaine said with an uninterested tone, trying to act cool.
"O-Okay…" Oliver took a deep breath, ready for the bone-chilling tale.
The blonde story teller leaned over Drippy's light once again and with a hushed voice, began to spin her frightening tale.
…A long time ago, there was a strange toy maker He just showed up in the streets of Al Mamoon one day as if from thin air. He opened a small toy shop on the edge of town selling his creations. His shop was filled with all sorts of playful doo-dads and interesting toys, but what he specialized in was dolls and puppets. He had an entire wall full of beautiful, handmade dolls, and a good portion of the ceiling held up marionettes and puppets of every shape and size.
However…after a week of his arrival, strange things began to happen.
People began to disappear without a trace.
A couple of elderly men, some middle aged people, but mostly young girls. The citizens of Al Mamoon looked high and low for their fellow neighbors, but couldn't find any sort of clues. The guards of the city looked into the case and tried to find any connection between the missing people.
There was only one similarity between all of the missing faces.
Apparently, they had all paid the weird toy shop a visit, but left without buying anything.
The ruler of Al Mamoon dispatched some able bodied men to investigate the odd shop. It was located near the back alleys of the city. When they got there, it was nighttime, and the moon was barely a sliver of silver, making the shadows of the streets spookier than normal.
The first thing the men noticed when they entered the shop was one wall was covered in nothing but dolls. Miniature girls with every imaginable hair style, eye color and dress decorated the shelves.
Yet…some of them were strangely familiar. When you looked at them, you couldn't help but have an uncomfortable shiver up your spine, as if you've seen them before.
And the men shivered as well; with fear and recognition.
The eerie dolls bore strong resemblances to the missing girls.
And a few of the puppets looked almost exactly like the other vanishing citizens.
The men approached the odd toy maker behind his desk and questioned if he knew the missing people. Instead of replying with a simple yes or no, he whispered out something quite different.
"…Would you like to buy something?"
"What? Here we are, asking if you've seen these fair citizens of Al Mamoon, who have vanished without a trace, and you're asking if we want to buy something?! By the Sages, are you-"
"So you are not buying any of my lovely toys, then?"
"Who cares about your petty toys?! We're dealing with-"
Slowly the toy maker got up from his chair, whispering his words. "That makes me sad. That makes my toys sad. I worked so hard in making them. Toys are made for the purpose of being bought and played with and adored. But when someone comes into my shop and leaves without buying a toy…why, that's simply heart-breaking. They see the faces of living people, all potential owners, but when they see them leave without buying one of them…why, it's too heart-breaking to bear."
The men pounded their fists onto his desk, their patience running thin. "What does that have to do with our questions? What does this have to do with the missing girls?"
"…They all left my toys broken hearted. Not the kind that wizards deal with, but it's too painful for me or them to bear. So I taught those customers a lesson." The toy maker turned his back to the frustrated men. "…I made them be able to feel the same pain. I made them feel how lonely and sad it is to not be desired, wanted, or bought…" He paused for a painfully long second before reaching his point.
"…I made them into toys."
The men gasped, hardly believing their ears-but that was not all, and the toy maker continued.
"I made the older people into puppets, but I turned the pretty little girls into dolls. I felt they should at least resemble their beauty from when they were alive. However…" The toy maker faced the men with his face concealed within shadows.
"…I think you gentlemen will make fine toy soldiers. Not what I usually do, but I'll make it work."
"What was that?" Swaine turned his head to the side, eyeing the side of the tent.
"Oh, come on, Swaine-you're not chickening out already, are you?" Esther teased the scrawny man.
"No, really, I heard something…from outside…"
Oliver's eyes shifted side to side, glazed with the suspicion one feels when they're fearful. "Wait…I-I think I hear it too…"
The tamer became quiet and tuned her ears to her surroundings. For a deadly silent minute, the four focused for any irregular noise.
Crunch…crunch…snap!
Everyone held their breath. The air was frozen as if the atmosphere had become ice, still and frighteningly cold. The only sounds were the rustle of footsteps as they got closer and louder to the small tent.
A tall, distorted shadow crossed over the entrance of the tent, plunging everybody's hearts into deep, deep fear.
The shape grew closer…and began to open the flap of the tent…
"AAAAAHHH! IT'S THE FLIPPING TOY-MAKER, MUN!"
"JEEPERS!"
"GYAAHH!"
"AAAAAAAAHHH! SOMEONE, DO SOMETHING!"
Before the unknown creature could make another move, Drippy and Swaine dashed out of the tent, ramming into the strange being as they fled. Esther was frozen in her spot, still screaming her head off. Oliver, choosing fight instead of flight, grabbed a blanket, ran outside the tent, and pulled the large piece of fabric over and around the unknown beast. The sleeping blanket was now a squirming cocoon of thick material as whatever inside it protested for freedom.
Oliver, still panting from all the adrenaline, called out to the others, "Huff…huff…Okay, everyone…huff…I think…I got him…huff…"
Esther cautiously peeked out of her tent, not daring to fully come out. Meanwhile, Swaine and Drippy slowly walked back, towards the mumbling bundle of material.
"Mmph! Mmm mm mph! Mumph!" The wiggling blanket's muffled, distorted shouts cried in undistinguishable sounds.
Yet somewhat familiar sounds…
"W-wait a minute…" Oliver cautiously approached the blanket and carefully unwrapped part of the fabric.
A gasping mess of long black hair emerged from the uncovered blanket section. Still panting for sweet oxygen, the young prince turned his green eyes up towards the boy.
"What on earth was that for?!"
"Jeepers! Prince Marcassin!"
Esther, Drippy, and Swaine did double takes at the realization of this mistake of identity.
"O-oh my goodness! Are you okay, Prince Marcassin?"
"Oi, you trying to scare us, mun? You nearly gave me a flipping heart attack!"
"For the love of black truffles, what the hell were you doing?!"
The Great Sage untangled himself from his cloth prison as he said, "Well, I had to…um, use the restroom, and I was going back to the tent when I heard you all scream, and before I knew it, I was stuck in this." He held up the blanket with his royal hand.
"Prince Marcassin, I'm so sorry, we thought you were the toy maker!" Oliver apologized as Marcassin raised an eyebrow.
"You...thought I was the what?"
"Oi, it was the character from Esther's crikey story. Boy, for a moment there I thought I'd jump out of my flipping skin!" Drippy held a hand to his head as it was recovering from the jumbled mess it had become in that moment of fear.
Esther sighed, relieved. "Well, I'm glad everything's alright now." She moved her blue eyes over to Swaine. "On the bright side, I guess this means my story was pretty scary, huh, Swaine?"
"H-Hey, I thought it was some wild animal attacking us! I didn't scram because I believed in some story!"
"Oh come on, you were as pale as a sheet!"
"And you just sat there screaming your head off when Marcassin came!"
"At least I didn't run off like a scaredy cat!"
The couple continued to argue with each other at the top of their lungs. Drippy, Oliver, and Marcassin were completely invisible to the furiously bickering duo.
Drippy sighed and hung his lantern low. "Honest to goodness…those two make oil and water look like best buddies." Stretching out his pink tongue with a yawn, he continued. "Oi, I think I've had enough excitement for one night, and it's getting pretty late. I'm gonna go and catch some winks."
Marcassin yawned as well. "That does sound like a good idea…although I'm not sure how we'll be able to get any sleep with those two arguing."
Oliver asked, "Will they be okay? Shouldn't we try and stop them?" as he rubbed the sleep out of his blue eyes.
"Nah, they'll tire out soon enough, Ollie-boy. Let's just hit the sack, 'ey?"
Oliver nodded to the sleepy fairy and made his way back to his own tent as Drippy joined him and Marcassin disappeared into his tent. Oliver didn't hear the rest of Swaine and Esther's bickering as his consciousness drifted into a fog of sleep and exhaustion slowly embraced him. Fortunately the eerie toy maker from the story didn't invade into his dreams.