Ruby Gloom House Novels & Stories

You can imagine his consternation when he saw Abe nod in acknowledgement. This forest was called the 'Gloom Forest' by Zandorians. It was a dangerous place, steaming with strong beasts, poisonous plants and creepy crawlers. People dared not venture into it. Over the last few hundreds of years, many who had ventured into it had become part of it. The last time the four empire coalition sent representatives into this death trap was a hundred years ago. After that abysmal failure, they dared not try again. If it wasn't for the occasional roars outside, Frederick wouldn't have believed this was the place, even after Mane had informed them of their destination before bringing them here.

Dryad took the opportunity to inspect his surroundings as the hunters were still in their position glaring at the only path the snarling creepers will appear from. The underground thick, blackened wall and floors were filled with little sparklingly crystals shining in varies of colors but more of the color-blue glows more brightly than any other color there serving as the main illumination within the underground and it's passages, having a towering roof the same as the height of it's creator—the glowing sky-worms with each tunnels connecting to each haven as a creek flowing from the east to the west. A total of ten haven built and still ongoing with each one holding many of mystical creature

"We're going to need to keep an eye on them." Timmy followed where he pointed. "Statues? You think someone will push them down on us?" "I wish it was only that dangerous. Famallumi, keep your eyes on the gargoyles and Timmy, while Kree and I try to find a way into that place." Reaching back into his truck, Rhychard grabbed the cloak. Dusk started to blanket the Earth and he wanted to make sure he was as hidden as he could be when darkness fell. How he would stay hidden once he managed to enter the building he wasn't sure of yet, but that was a problem he'd face then. Now, he just needed to focus on getting inside.

Two stone gargoyles flanked the staircase leading up, and another one was perched on the roof, just chilling there, staring into the distance like it was watching over the world. Maximus pulled into a circular driveway, and I swear I looked like a puppy sticking its head out the window. My face was practically glued to the glass, eyes wide. “What the fuck, Maximus? What is this place?!” He didn’t answer right away. Neither of us said anything for a second. “This is the pack house,” he finally replied. I snapped my head toward him, my long blonde hair whipping across my shoulder like it had its own attitude. “Are you joking? This? This is your pack house?” My voice was at least an octave high

He glanced at the feeble James and said, “You’ll have to be cautious after this. The Emperor will suspect you for Blake’s prison break and will surely target you again.” “Okay.” James nodded gently. Gloom did not say anything more and turned to leave the room. Living room. Gloom looked at the eight people and ordered, “Follow me. I’ll arrange you guys into the Red Flame army.” They nodded and left with Gloom. After everyone was gone, Quincy walked into the room and asked, “James, have you settled everything?” James nodded and instructed, “Yeah. You can go buy the stuff for me.” “Okay, I’ll go get them right now.”

The deep laundry caverns of the Bloodmoon Pack smelled of lye, stagnant river water and the crushing despair of the forgotten. Located three hundred feet below the opulent obsidian floors of the Great Hall, this was where the pack's illusions stripped away. Massive stone vats bubbled with boiling water, heated by natural geothermal vents, while the freezing water of the underground river rushed through the adjacent sluice gates. The air was a suffocating soup of thick, hot steam and freezing drafts that made your lungs ache.

"You need to understand what this place is before we go inside." The greenhouse stood fifty yards from the main house, its shattered glass dome glittering like a broken crown in the storm. We ran through the downpour, Damien's coat flaring behind him like a dark wing. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of damp earth and something sweetly rotten. Moonlight filtered through broken panes, casting jagged shadows across the ruins. My Louis Vuitton’s crunched over shards of glass and brittle leaves as I followed Damien deeper into the wreckage.

And as I move toward him, he takes his eyes and heads to the ground in a low bow. I began to walk into another hallway with him behind me; the one that held my subjects. I hear the fast thud of Augustine's heartbeat, I also hear their heartbeats as well, and I can tell how many they are in the room ahead. My senses kick in. I twitch my nose and my golden eyes flare up in the dark hallway; I detest the smell of Aarde, it is the smell of the Karbouter, also known as the Goblin. I smell it first before the whiff of the Werewolves and vampires runs up my nostrils.

The heavy oak door was slightly unlatched, a sign of either arrogant territorial security or a deliberate trap. I glided across the threshold, the absolute gloom of the interior swallowing me whole. The blood-hunt had begun. I kicked through a splintered partition to my right. It gave way with a wet, splintering groan. A single tallow candle flickered on an iron tripod overhead, dying. The air was a thick soup of feral rot—copper blood, damp fur, and the bitter stink of common rogue sweat. The longhouse was a graveyard of broken supply crates and dried meat pallets. We moved through the shadows in widening arcs. I lifted a hand, freezing in place as my eyes caught a heavy stone slab in the c

"This place isn't like the living world. Skincare and makeup products are scarce, and only the rich can afford them. "In our horror game, the cosmetics are provided by the studio, but because our instance performs so poorly, our budget is tiny. That's why our makeup never looks good and fails to draw in viewers." I caught a word in her explanation. "Viewers?" She gave a small clap. "Exactly. The live comments in horror games aren't from humans—they come from ghosts watching the stream. It's the same as how you humans watch reality shows." I raised a brow. "So there are a lot of ghosts tuning in?"