Accidental Tumblr prompt from the tags of lulu-baked-beans (in response to my "Reward" fic): #Like it raises the question if he's done this to all the other subconites #because we know he gave the dwellers from the town bodies right
Also, this was released to celebrate the Creator DLC release, AKA Vanessa's Curse. Have fun y'all! I'm with the console outcasts who aren't gonna get it XP
Despite what one might have thought, not all of the Subconite dwellers and minions started as natives to the forest.
As a minion led another prospective contractor deeper into the woods, closer to a trap hidden with rotted leaves and eerily glowing plants, they couldn't help but muse about their current duty and its history. Not all of the Subconite dwellers and minions started as natives to the forest... But, the first batch were for sure. The cohort they were from was little more than a small crowd of kids, playmates from the same village, all of whom had frozen to death together after a single moment of cruelty and tragedy.
Children they'd been, far too much life left in their tiny selves to be able to pass on so easily. Some of the older kids had gone, sure, but most had stayed. The adults had all accepted their deaths quickly and moved on, but the kids? Oh no, not the kids. The youths of the kingdom had remained, tied to their homeland and too sad, too scared, too lively to ever want to leave the mortal coil after such a sudden and unfair end. Yet not all stayed in the forest. One sorry sod had decided to let themselves be soul-frozen within the queen's home, too loyal and loving of her to be anything but foolish. A few others drifted off, hung in between the horizon and twilight, following the one with strings and, perhaps, learning their own version of that strange being's power. Were they all echoes of the past like Them? Were they constantly stuck in between realms due to stubbornness? An inability to accept their state? Who knew. But they were a strange and rare few to have followed the other, that non-existent paradox. Strange, and of no concern.
Thinking of the being that didn't exist was an unspoken, forgivable taboo. There was no malice in not remembering, it was simply what was done. For whatever reason, no one talked about Them, and no one thought about Them either. Trying to think of it just led to a muddled mind. The minion moved out of the moonlight, the moment passed, and they forgot it ever happened. The former dweller's thoughts moved on to other matters as their small form plodded swiftly yet steadily down the main path through Subcon, ignoring the yells from the kid following them.
Minions. Minions like them, their spirit stuffed into a plush body and protected by dark power, owed their immortality, their safety, their everything to neither the evil ice queen, nor to the one they didn't think of. They owed it all to The Snatcher.
The Snatcher was a cruel being to outsiders. Ruthless, hungry, malicious, powerful. He hungered for souls, demanded impossible deeds be done, and manipulated mortal beings with vengeful trickery. The great purple abomination was truly a terror to behold. Able to change size at a whim, rip the soul from a mortal with ease, summon eldritch blasts or brew malicious concoctions to force weakness upon enemies. Hundreds had met their end feeding his cruel intentions, their souls swallowed up like a baby rabbit before a boa. To have a run in with the Snatcher was to meet with a fate much, much worse than mere death.
If you were an adult, that is.
All the minions knew what the Snatcher would do with any adults foolish enough to trespass in the woods. Sometimes the Snatcher would appear before them personally, devouring their eternal self and tossing their freshly-dead corpse to the side. Other times they would leave the doddering fool to the forest itself, to the swamp and the fire spirits and any of the other dangers in the woods. Their spirits would be stricken from their bodies one way or the other, soaking into the accursed ground. The minions always cleaned up after such cases. Any adults who trespassed were dead and desecrated one way or another. Devoured or destroyed by the wild forest and the wicked denizens of its boughs, bones and flesh rotted and scattered to the four winds, and souls turned into little more than fertilizer for the dark energies of the endless groves. Either way, directly or indirectly, their souls would serve The Snatcher just fine. Adults, when they trespassed, knew the dangers. Whatever happened next was their fault.
Children, however, were different. Unless by accident or by cruelty, children were almost never allowed to wander into the woods. Subcon was forbidden for a reason. If youths did enter, it was because either they didn't understand the implications of the place, wandering and alone as they so often were, or they had little choice but to flee into the shelter of darkened trees. When such youthful spirits did enter the woods, they would have a different fate than their elders.
The minion turned and paused, letting their newest victim catch up. What a fun little game of chase! As they turned, just when the light of triumph started to light up the other child's eyes, the trap sprung. The poor hat-wearing sod went from victoriously catching up to her quarry to hanging like a fruit in a tree, ripe and ready for the taking. The minion didn't stick around to see the inevitable consequences.
It was the same song and dance every time. The Snatcher would show up, scare them, offer up some treacherous contracts to be attempted (though usually unfulfilled). A rare couple of children might put him into a bad mood and be instantly killed; most others took the contracts as their only saving grace, their only chance at survival. A false hope. No matter the circumstances, whether they succeeded or failed in their endeavours, the Snatcher would eventually take their souls for his own. He always did have a soft spot for children (though no one would ever say as such for fear of punishment, and his well-maintained prickly demeanour was designed to make one think otherwise). He cared for the dwellers almost as much as he cared for his own servants (but never would an outsider know of this. Never. This was their happiness, their secret to keep, their duty). As far as any of them were concerned, a young kid all alone in the world was just a dweller that hadn't changed over yet. Another one of their own yet to be converted to serve their guardian, The Snatcher. His minions would do anything for their protector. He owned their loyalty, their hearts, and their souls, in more ways than one.
Now, souls were interesting. A person could live without their soul, as long as it still existed somewhere within feasible reach. If Snatcher ate one, for example, that person would die, and their mind would dissipate to oblivion without the energy from their soul to help them pass to the afterlife. But if that soul were merely separated, sure there were consequences, but none that couldn't be remedied later. Especially if their mind, that other half of their spirit, were still intact. The Snatcher capitalized on this. A body was just a vessel, whereas a spirit was the combination of mind and soul, holding the true power of a being. Dwellers were such spirits, children no longer in possession of a body, but perhaps with a mask instead to help them focus. Or, more desirably, a body from The Snatcher, with which they could serve him for the rest of existence. It sure beat being bored for eternity!
Regardless. The Snatcher would take the child's soul, and when they inevitably died (usually to a task they couldn't complete, but on very rare occasions, to an impatient Snatcher), he would offer their lingering spirit a final deal. Serve forever, be allowed a body, or simply exist as a dweller until the end of eternity. Many refused this at first, hurt and angry at The Snatcher's trickery. They'd rather live their un-life forever doing nothing, rather than serve the villain that caused their demise. It was his fault they no longer had a body! How dare he mock them with such a contract, how dare he try and replace what they'd already had with something that forced such servitude upon them! A clever plan, a brilliant but evil plot, and one they wouldn't fall for!
And yet… they all signed that last contract eventually.
Anyone who entered the woods never came out the same, if they ever came out at all. The forest of Subcon ate them alive, one way or another. The adults' souls fed the Snatcher's magic, and their bodies fed the woods. The souls of children, however… Well. There were a lot of minions, but they could always use a few more. The Snatcher always did like kids, and the arrangement suited him quite well. The minions liked this arrangement too. Who knew what went on in the great beyond? At least this way they were all safe, all together, for the rest of their unending afterlives. A civilization of children, all for them alone, and death to all the other adults who might wrong them. It was a nice and tidy little existence.
The wind crept through the trees, snaking its way around dead and twisted branches and bones alike. Graves, some new, many cracked and in some state of decay, reflected eerie moonlight. An oily, purplish stain of magic covered the land, shifting from the sluggish movements of tortured souls. The cruel energies covering their world glowed ominously as leaves rustled and crumbled under the minion's feet. The red eyed creatures in the dark, born of shadow and fear, watched with mild curiosity, unbothered by the Subconite's passing. A scream echoed from behind the minion. A scream from the trap.
Poor girl.
It would be nice to have a new face around the woods, though. The minion looked forward to the day that the newbie could be welcomed properly.