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TDM #3 - It Came from Beyond the Veil! [REPRINT]

Pumpkin Hollow Gazette Issue #3 [REPRINT]

[Mod Note: This is a very long TDM because I was pulling out all the stops for spooky season, but I'm excited to share it with you all! Hope you can forgive all the reading I'm about to make you do, and stay spooky!]

Pumpkin Hollow Gazette

11/10/23 | TDM #3 - "It Came from Beyond the Veil!"
Content Warnings: [Article 5 (Further Details)] Murder, facial mutilation

Pumpkin Hollow continues to welcome new residents!

BLUE ISLAND BEAST BESTED AT THE BEACH

By Yorick Aberdeen

TAWNY BEACH -

Thanks to the brave and talented newer residents of Pumpkin Hollow, the day is saved! The enormous, building-sized mother crab that attacked our fair island this past month for eating so many of her babies has at last been handily defeated. The Pumpkin Hollow Damage Claims Adjustment Corps (PHDCAC) will be adding damage claims from the crab attack to their “to-do” list, behind their long list of repairs and financial aid to be given to those homes and businesses impacted by this year’s Parade Day. While the parade this year was no more or less deadly than previous years, property damage did see a noticeable uptick due to local blacksmith River la Croix becoming possessed, inciting a magically-fueled fire that impacted several local businesses. When reached for comment, la Croix had this to say of the incident: "That was hellfire. Once you get a safe distance from an unidentified flame, look to see if it's feeding on something inflammable like metal or stone. If so, good news and bad news: it won't spread beyond a single conceptual object. Your house is a single conceptual object."

In any case, with both the vile Parade and the crab attack behind us, Pumpkin Hollow leaves behind the Season of Beasts and enters the Season of Spirits with pride, dignity, and significant mark-downs on the price of crab meat. Participants in the battle against the Blue Island crab have been awarded with special medals from Mayor Poe for bravery and as much crab as they can possibly eat.

SPECTRAL CREATURES INFEST FOREST; FRIENDLY OR HOSTILE?

By Yorick Aberdeen

An artist rendition provided by local teenage artist, Cassandra Seltic.

LOCKWOOD FOREST - Reports have flooded into the local constabulary from all over the island that the forest that encompasses the majority of the Northern portion of our island has recently become overrun with small creatures with ghostly appearances. As many of you are aware, earlier this year the forest suffered a prior invasion by tree-like trickster spirits known as Brutoks, which has since waned with the changing of the seasons. The creatures appearing now seem to be of an entirely different nature. Some have even described them as “cute”.

Chief Constable Janine Kilbride has stated that numerous attempts to capture these creatures have been made thus far and have proven ineffective. When reached for comment on the matter, Dr. Neil West, local psychiatrist and occult expert, speculated that perhaps we lack the appropriate tools. However, brave souls may be persuaded to venture beyond the tree line and attempt to befriend them. Perhaps you could even end up with an adorable, dangerous, ghostly new pet! Or you could die. That is, after all, always a possibility.

A COMMUNITY MESSAGE FOLLOWING SEPTEMBER GALA

By Cecil Gershwin Palmer

A photo of Hemsworth Custom Tailoring's store front.

PUMPKIN HOLLOW (Downtown Hollow) - The Pumpkin Hollow Artisan’s Guild would like to remind all citizens that rented attire should be treated with care and returned in the condition it was rented in. Those who rent clothing for formal events should avoid running into danger, fighting, clothed sex in private corners, duels, being set on fire or other acts that may damage clothing, as additional fees for repair and cleaning will be charged for garments returned in poor condition.

A representative for the Artisan’s Guild, Saraya Meridell, had this to say: “Do you know how hard it is to repair charred velvet? Do you realize that bloodstains don’t come out of silk? Wine, yes, we expect wine. But blood? It’s really a step too far.” She shook this intrepid reporter’s rented dress shirt in his face as she spoke, her green eyes wide and bloodshot. She then continued to murmur angrily to herself, grabbing a bar of laundry soap and retreating to the back of her workshop.

The vampires who attacked Dahlia’s Birthday Gala and caused the need for acts of derring-do could not be reached for comment.

DR. WEST ANNOUNCES SEANCE

By Yorick Aberdeen

NORTHWEST HOLLOW (West Dream Analytics) - As the days gradually begin to darken sooner and sooner, the veil between our world and the Beyond thins, drawing us ever closer to the spirits of those who have left our world behind. As a result, this time of year is popular for seances among the magically and spiritually inclined. Dr. Neil West --- proprietor of local sleep psychiatry clinic West Dream Analytics, occult expert, and leader of the controversial Ocularum --- has made a public announcement that he will be holding a large group seance to reach out to departed friends.

This seance will be hosted at the abandoned home of former Pumpkin Hollow mayor Christopher Larkin, the site of the tragic Winter Solstice Party Disaster of 16:37. It will feature an overnight lock in to observe spectral activity with dinner provided. Guest beds and other furniture remaining in the house will be utilized, or bedrolls supplied.

PUMPKINFEST MOOD LINGERS; LEEDS HEIRESS PROVIDES MOOD SETTER

By Yorick Aberdeen

A scenic image of Fall's Promise.

FALL'S PROMISE CEMETERY - Despite this year's Pumpkinfest being behind us and the shocking events of its finale, the autumn air which persists into November still lends itself to the telling of tales of terror! Our own Dahlia Leeds will be hosting a festive mood-setter on the lawn of Fall’s Promise Cemetery. Leeds, member of the Town Council and daughter of Pumpkin Hollow founder Japhet Leeds, invites anyone interested down to the graveyard to join her in the sharing of ghost stories. Warm beverages and fresh apple pastries will be provided! Potential attendees are advised that the event will run until after dark, so please bring a lantern and dress warmly. It is best to walk home in pairs if you are able.

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Further Details...

Spectral Creatures

Those who enter Lockwood Forest, particularly after dark, will find it abruptly inhabited by many ghostly beasts. Those with knowledge of specific other worlds may be able to identify these creatures as Ghost-type Pokemon. As stated by the Chief Constable, the appropriate tools for capturing and taming Pokemon permanently are not available, as the knowledge and supplies required to make them are not present in Pumpkin Hollow. However, with a little patience, they can be befriended. Pumpkin Hollow residents can each domesticate up to two ghostly friends, which will stick around after the rest of their kind move on at the end of November. It is possible they will return at a later time, but not guaranteed.

While none of the creatures seem to be of a legendary or mythical variety, especially lucky explorers may encounter one shiny per resident if they purchase a Sparking Talisman from the Shady Merchant’s shop for 50 Brass. (New residents, even those test-driving, begin with 100 Brass.)

It is also possible that random Pokemon-tamers may be attacked in the forest by Marrow Isle’s local cryptid, the Pine Devil. This dangerous creature attacks locals at random with the intention of eating them. Perhaps your new partner can help you survive the encounter! Or if not, your friend can at least keep you company during your 24 hours as a ghost. Also remember that ghosts can interact with one another! Ghouls of a feather haunt together! See our Death page for information on how dying works on Marrow Isle. If you do not want to interact with the Pine Devil, please simply include an OOC note on your post opting out!

The Seance

Attendees to the seance meet Dr. Neil West outside his home and office before following him to a large old house down the road, not too far from Leeds Estate. He has a lot of gear, so he distributes the burden among volunteers---- covered platters containing the dinner he organized for everyone, candles, matches, chalk, various funny little instruments that are apparently ghost hunting equipment, spare bedding, and a few fire extinguishers. He came prepared, to be sure.

When the group arrives, Neil spends some time talking about the house. It belonged to Christopher Larkin, who had been Mayor Poe’s predecessor’s predecessor--- two mayors prior to now. He’d been a popular man. A high elf from a well-appointed family, but humble and reserved. A pianist, well-read and well-traveled before settling down on Marrow Isle. He had been mayor for many terms.

“Every year for the Winter Solstice, he would hold a dinner party for his friends and family. Not a large, ostentatious affair like Leeds galas, but there were plenty of people in attendance. However, the party that took place in the year 16:37 was different,” he explains as he sets up an arrangement of candles and begins drawing sigils on the old hardwood floor. “Something went terribly wrong. Survivors were few, and their accounts of what happened were disjointed and chaotic, but what could be gleaned from them was that the mirrors had gone… metaphysically rotten, in a manner of speaking.”

“It’s not unheard of, since mirrors are often used as portals, but whatever this was--- it was directly hostile. Predicting violence or terror which had not yet happened with impossible visions that would inexplicably play out in the room being reflected moments later, from the sounds of it. It was a bloodbath. Half the house burned down as well. It’s been silent here since then, aside from some reports of spectral activity. My hope is that tonight, we can reach out to these spirits and find out more about what happened here.”

Much of the house is coated with dust, and as Neil stated, there is a large portion that is dilapidated and scorched. A fair number of the mirrors have been shattered. The ones that remain seem normal enough now, though. You have a simple dinner together at the aging, once-austere dining table before returning to the living room to begin the seance.

Sitting on the hardwood floor around the chalk and candle circle, everyone looks to Dr. West as he performs his invocation.

”Spirits who reside here, lost and trapped souls of the fallen, we beseech you. Make your presence known to us, draw from our energy to make yourselves seen by mortals once more. Give us signs of your presence, that we may commune with you again and learn more of your lives and of your fate. Come forth and show yourselves.”

There is a foul, cold breeze that runs through the room. The candle flames flicker--- not at once, but in a wave, as if something has passed over each in turn. But then, there is no change.

“Hm.” Neil frowns. “Well, it seems there was some kind of reaction. Let’s settle in and wait.”

And so your group does just that. Guest rooms, still equipped with old and dusty but perfectly usable beds are divvied out, as well as the furniture from other rooms that remains usable. It was necessary to draw lots on who would have to sleep in the living room. Instruments are set out. People chat and wait around until one by one, they go to bed.

In the night, however, the house comes alive.

A grandfather clock which had previously not been working chimes the hour of 3am down the hall where the bedrooms are, loud enough to shake the bones and wake the dead. The fireplace in the living room roars to life on its own. The glass casings on the oil lamp in the parlor smashes for seemingly no reason.

Neil takes charge, deciding this to be a lost cause. “Let’s get out of here. Quickly, leave everything behind and head for the doors!”

But it’s too late. All the doors and windows are stuck shut. No amount of pounding will let you out, and windows that shatter heal themselves immediately. You are trapped. And as you are realizing this, ghostly figures begin pouring out of the mirrors. They fly off in all directions, into the walls and ceilings, and disappear. For now.

Attendees of the seance are trapped until dawn. There is no escape from Larkin Manor until sunrise. You must make it through the night together. Poltergeists of all sorts can be found throughout the large home. Ghosts are NPCs that can be written as players see fit, though most if not all will be motivated to attack or terrorize player characters. They can be warded off, tricked into leaving, or banished but not destroyed or harmed. Injury for player characters is a real possibility, but death is not likely. Stick together and stay safe!

Ghost Stories
[CW: murder, facial mutilation]

The wind has grown a chill and smells of fallen leaves, drenched in rain water and decomposing to return to the Earth from whence they came. A crescent moon hangs in the blackening sky, cutting a Cheshire smile across the void. Rows of white stones stand stalwart against the night, recently polished by kindly volunteers, like sentries at their posts. Fall’s Promise --- a monument to what was and a reminder of the fate that no longer awaits the residents of Pumpkin Hollow.

Dahlia sits on the steps of a mausoleum bearing her own name. A cluster of candles and oil lanterns have been placed on the cobblestone circle around it. There is a picnic blanket with treats--- homemade apple crisps in tiny pie crusts and metal carafes of tea and coffee, still hot. She beckons you into the circle. There are plenty of blankets on which to sit.

There is chatter and eating for a while as the sun finishes its descent, storytellers and listeners alike gathering round. Then, the stories begin. If you have your own, you may take your turn to share it. Perhaps it will help you strike up a friendship with a neighbor.

Then, Dahlia takes her own turn to share the story she prepared. There is an old book in her lap--- thin, like a child’s book, but not decorated with the usual colorful illustration one expects from children’s literature. The flickering candlelight casts her face with an eerie glow.

“This is the oldest folk legend local to Marrow Isle,” she says. “It dates back nearly 50 years, not too long after my late father founded the town of Pumpkin Hollow. It’s the reason we carve pumpkins to this day and is based on a true story.”

Dahlia opens the book.

“This is the Sordid Tale of Smiling Jack.”

She reads.

”Many years ago, in the time of our forefathers, Pumpkin Hollow was brave and new. Many people came from all over the Emerald Isles, from Glassighe, Anwyll, and Braxtony alike. All were curious about the mysterious island, said to have been born out of sea fog and craggy rock from nowhere, and they came across the Black Jade Sea to see the newborn town that Japhet Leeds had built there.”

“One of these people was a man by the name of Jack Briar. Jack was a cheerful sort, always laughing and telling jokes and brightening the day of everyone around him. He was well-loved by all of his neighbors, and became known to the townsfolk as Smiling Jack, as he was almost never seen without a grin on his face. But Smiling Jack had a secret. Not a large one, but damning nonetheless--- Jack was a very selfish man. He was not a kindly neighbor seeking to share a smile out of the goodness of his heart, but an egotistical fool who only loved being the center of attention. Still, this secret was hidden inside his heart with no evidence to prove its truth, so no one would ever know it. Until that fateful day when a scarred stranger arrived on the back of a trade merchant’s ship, hidden among the cargo.”

“The new arrival was a thug, a crook and a murderer on the run from the Royal Guard. He had come to Marrow Isle because it was isolated from the Great Fairisle and from the king, to hide until the bounty hunters and lawmen forgot his face or he could make his way out of the country. He kept to himself, wanting nothing more than to lay low and avoid the notice of the burgeoning town. He never even shared his name with any of the residents. His plan would have gone perfectly if it were not for Smiling Jack, because of course, how could the town jester not notice the surly man who hid in a corner always wearing a frown?”

“Every time they saw one another, Jack would run up to the frowning man and attach himself to the stranger’s hip. He showered the man with compliments, told all of his very best jokes, and played all of his cleverest pranks and pratfalls. Never once did the stranger ever crack even a hint of a smile, glowering at Jack every moment they were in each other’s company. But Jack could not stand the thought of anyone not finding him funny, of anyone not having their heart warmed by his company. Everyone liked Smiling Jack in Pumpkin Hollow. He became ever determined to amuse this stranger. And when the man would finally tell Jack to leave him alone after being followed and pestered for half the day, Jack would hold up his hands defensively and say, ‘Oh, sir, there is no need for quarrel! I am only trying to make you smile.’”

“At last, the stranger grew fed up with Jack’s persistence, and one night after sundown he followed Jack to his home on the outskirts of the village. Once the wicked man was sure Jack was alone, he pounced, forcing Jack to the ground at the edge of a darkened pumpkin patch. He took a knife and carved into Jack’s face, cutting from the corner of his lips up to his cheek bones. And as Smiling Jack screamed in agony, the strange man finally cracked a grin and said, ‘Why are you so upset? I am only trying to make you smile.’”

“By morning, the man had skipped town on a stolen boat, and Jack lay bleeding into the tilled farm soil, his mutilated face crammed into a pumpkin. A nasty surprise for anyone who might find him. Since then, it’s been said that the ghost of Smiling Jack can be seen around the time of the pumpkin harvest, wearing a grinning Jack-o-Lantern over his face to hide his grisly forever-smile. Tales say that if he finds you after dark, he will corner you and tell you a joke. Those who do not laugh or who fake a laugh will find themselves meeting the same fate as Smiling Jack, unless they can flee quickly from his wrath.”

Closing the book, Dahlia smiles. “So, apple tart, anyone?”

After the Tale of Smiling Jack is told, residents (including those who didn’t hear the story) will begin encountering the malevolent spirit around town, who will tell them a grim joke--- largely grisly black comedy or gallows humor. If you don’t find the joke funny, you will have to run or fight for your life! Find a neighbor to help you, rescue someone else, slip into someone’s house in an attempt to escape, whatever you like! Smiling Jack can only be escaped by knocking his pumpkin loose from his face (at which point he will disappear) or by going inside of a home with a Jack-o-Lantern outside the door.

Additionally, if you do find the joke funny, he will follow you around pestering you until he finds someone else to attack or until the same parameters are met.

Smiling Jack is an NPC and can be written however the player likes outside of the aforementioned. Please remember to use content warnings for the jokes if necessary! You may also handwave the joke if you can't find one you want to use.

Threaded | Flat

Spectral Creatures
Chris can often be found in the forest, accompanying their little Pokemon friend (Rowan the Phantump) as Rowan seeks out playmates. Chris is also keeping an eye out for any Pokemon that ping their senses as a one-time human.

Care to join them on their little free roam?

Wildcard
Chris can be seen around town as well, often to fulfill duties assisting the various doctors in town.

Or you might see them after hours, socializing at the Oak and Iron or another place with live entertainment. Chris does like dancing.

Got other ideas? Feel free to post anything.

{OOC: I had some of this on the original one, but deleted that because I saw the message about the reprint. And I'm excited!}

Spectral Creatures
Mary is still renting a room at the Oak and Iron (it's easier than worrying about upkeep for an entire house) and has gotten a job working as a shop assistant. Ever since her earlier run-in with the River Walker, she has been avoiding Lockwood Forest like her life depends on it.

That changes now -- Mary is yelling "You have to pay for that! Or give it back!" because a ghostly little thief has snatched something from the shop. If Mary doesn't get it back, it's going to come out of her pay, which already just about covers room rental and food.

Is it a wild ghost Pokémon, or perhaps your Pokémon friend who is being naughty? Regardless, Mary is chasing after them, waving her proportionately small broom for emphasis as she yells. And the chase is leading closer and closer to the forest.

Give her some help?

Beach Wildcard
On her days off (when her joints aren't flaring and demanding rest), Mary can be found at the beach. If you would be there -- a fisherman coming in from a hard days' work, another person just relaxing on the beach, maybe someone who's been combing for treasures -- feel free to run into Mary.

How Dark You Wanna Go, Pumpkinhead?
Listen. You think too hard about Mary Dahl's backstory and situation as a perpetual child star, in Hollywood, where people of certain distasteful appetites are often catered to because they have money and power? And things go to very dark places.

If Mary gets cornered and told dark jokes, then she's probably going to put on her "Baby Doll" persona and retaliate by telling some horrific true stories about Hollywood parties in that sweet little girl voice.

Is Smilin' Jack sure that he wants to lob a rock at that hornet's nest? He can if he wants to. But maybe you should knock that pumpkin off his head and put him out of his misery.

{OOC: ...when you're so excited about a game that you write up starters ahead of time, lol...}

What Lurks in Lockwood Forest? (the Pokémon know...)
Okay, so what's the protocol for dealing with a new arrival who is a literal wolf? Whatever it is, said wolf made a wild dash for the forest and has been hiding in there ever since. (Okay, a couple days. Po-tay-toe, po-tah-toe.)

And now a "monstrous" wolf-like creature is wandering around in those woods, having hunted at least once. It's shaped roughly like a man, being bipedal, but it's larger overall in height and build, with a wolfish head, muzzle, and short tail. Covered in thick fur, with paw-like feet and clawed but otherwise human-like hands, it keeps to the shadows.

Sometimes, the creature can be observed around the ghost Pokémon... usually just coexisting, but sometimes chasing after one or another troublesome beastie that annoyed it. It doesn't want to eat them, just scare them off.

Maybe you will run into the wolfish beast when you are in the forest yourself...

Ghost Stories
If you wander from the warm circle of storytellers, you may come across a wolf -- just a normal wolf, not a hybrid creature -- wandering amongst the monuments to the dead. It watches you, and the rest of the group, with oddly intelligent, bright blue eyes.

If allowed to approach, it will curl up as something warm and furry to rest your back against while listening to said ghost stories.

Wildcard
Wolf or wolfish beast may be noted observing people from the forest... seen by the mines, along the train tracks, or at the edge of farmland. It generally stays away from people, but if confronted or threatened with violence, it will respond in kind.

Perhaps some farmers are getting nervous about the presence of a large predator in addition to all the monsters they normally have to deal with. And perhaps you've been hired (?) to check it all out, for the good of the community.

Anyway, come at me bro! (gender neutral)

Fish Out of Water
Marrow Isle isn't new to inhuman beings, elves and the like, but there aren't any that make Peril feel any less out of place.

Standing at the height of a Clydesdale, with a light steam flowing off her glowing scales, she poked her way through town. She wasn't exactly keen to make a spectacle of herself, but she couldn't help curiosity! The draconic buildings of her home were so different from these, and in comparison, they were almost... cute!

In all her gawking as she takes in the land, she's not being particularly mindful, either. Especially not of her new neighbors, who stand a bit shorter than she is. Should she bump into someone, it'll feel like putting your hand on a stovepot that hadn't had time to cool - enough to leave a burn, should the contact last too long. Oops!

Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark
It wasn't often she heard any horrific ones, but when there was an opportunity to hear a story, she'd be hard pressed to pass it up regardless of genre.

And there she was, bright eyed and interested, lingering towards the edges of the crowd as Dahlia told the tale of Smiling Jack. It was grim, to be sure! It wasn't as if she was new to senseless acts of violence, but something about it felt... haunting. (Oh, poor summer child, she had no idea.)

It was only when the group started dispersing did she catch one of the people heading back towards town, and, swallowing her pride, stepped forward.

"Do you mind if I head back with you? The story got me a little, um... spooked."

Wildcard
Got a situation? Want to add a dragon to it? Let me know!

Making an Entrance (Arrival)

Everything felt like a blur.

She'd talked her way through the meeting with the white-haired woman while barely parsing any of it, and before she knew it, she was on a ship with other people. It was only shortly after that that the ship arrived to dock, the few people departed the ship, and she, after a brief tour and introduction, was left with her thoughts.

The first thought: this town was... cute. Quaint! A little dreary. A smile pulled at her lips.

The second thought had that smile drop: holding out her hands revealed that she was still in the jester outfit. She died and she still had to be like this? What kind of cruel twist of fate was that?

That left the rest of her thoughts racing as she tried to head to the Oak and Iron. Oh, god. She still couldn't remember anything about her prior life. All that time that she knew was there? Just gone. How was she supposed to function in an afterlife if she could barely remember a life to begin with? Was there any point in trying to go back, if she was just going to be stuck in the Circus again?

All the while, practically in a stress-induced daze, she sat herself at the bar after finding her way to the Oak and Iron, tried to get some cider, went to take a sip, and spilled half of it down herself. She let out a miserable, frustrated groan, sitting the cup down perhaps a bit too roughly, and planting her head into her hands.

Maybe she could use a word of reassurance? Or a towel?

Ghost Stories

Though the story was scary, Pomni can't help but delight in the nostalgic frights from it. How long had it been since she'd gotten to do something like that in a group of people?

She'd been in such good spirits that, heading back to town, she didn't think anything of it, and didn't see any reason to be any more alert than usual.

Huge mistake, considering in the dark streets of town, she was stopped in her tracks.

And then came the knock-knock joke.

Now, here she was, scrambling for her life, huffing and puffing and wheezing as her bells, those god damn fucking bells, gave away her location at very turn. She didn't know how much longer she could keep this up with how her legs burned, but the glow from that wicked jack-o-lantern grin never escaped the corners of her eyes.

God, why was she going to die over a knock-knock joke?

Wildcard

( time to party!! hmu either here or discord, i'm eager to put this gal anywhere i can with anybody who's interested! \o/ )

Edited 2023-11-11 03:21 (UTC)

1. Aiming high where the eagle circles [Arrival]
There was a last moment when everything seemed possible, as the city of Avalir fell, as the titans died and the continent of Domunas was cloaked in smoke. And then there was a crash and pain and darkness.

Finding himself here, Cerrit feels wholly out of place, as a six-and-a-half foot tall eisfurra: a bird-man with wings large enough to bear his weight (and make clothing him a Pain In The Ass). Doorways aren't made for someone of his build and stature, nor are sidewalks particularly comfortable, unless he pulls those wings in tight, tight to his back, holding them tensed and walking with his head down a little bit, his balance thrown off a bit by the posture.

Unfortunately, this doesn't entirely prevent him from causing a mess or a spectacle. Congrats, there's a lost eisfurra blundering into you.

2. Where he keeps his tail feathers clean [Oak and Iron]
Here is where we deal with some uncomfortable realities. Like what it looks like for a bird of prey, even one with opposable thumbs looks like while eating. Not only did he ask for his squab to be cooked 'rare', but he is very much ripping and tearing with his beak as he eats.

(The most surprising part might be that he is also eating his veggies.)

Are you staring? Fascinated, horrified, confused? Perhaps now's the ideal time to ask questions. After all, he is eating something that isn't you right now.

3. And wonders "Am I still a free bird? [Up in the sky! It's a bird, it's a rogue!]
It's late afternoon, inching into early evening, when your character feels someone watching them. Across the street? No. From a nearby shop? No. It's only if they look up that they'll notice a figure perched like a gargoyle on the top of the clocktower, watching with sharp eyes and brooding. So much brooding.

Staaaaaare.

Or perhaps a shadow is cast on you as Cerrit, trying to get his bearings, flies over the island in slow circles. Don't worry, the staring is still happening, it's just a hair less potent while he's in motion.

4. Or just a part of the machine?" [Wildcard]
[I am wildly open to any wildcard you care to bring. Will match format, but prefer prose.]

Edited 2023-11-11 04:07 (UTC)

New arrivals! Old arrivals! Residents! There's a notice up on the community board, and biweekly activity out on the parade grounds.

The Notice

To better effect emergency responses to the ongoing siege of Marrow Island, Comrade Jean (Pumpkin Hollow Recovery Task Force) is seeking volunteers to staff and lead response teams which will coordinate on own initiative during notable crises. The teams are as follows: COMBAT TEAM: Directly combat curse incursions with a focus on harm reduction and pro-active containment; protect citizens and infrastructure through violent force. MEDICAL TEAM: First aid and triage, preventative care, bodymen. The grim work of aid during a disaster or surprise attack. COMMUNICATIONS TEAM: Detect and report emergencies, coordinate activities between all teams and citizens, swiftly and effectively transmit information on the disaster in a concise manner. Volunteers are encouraged to leave their names and phone numbers on the forms provided below, or to contact JEAN or MADAM PRINCESS ZELDA directly at their homes or anywhere in town. These teams are not sanctioned or sponsored by any existing organization on MARROW ISLAND and are strictly voluntary; however, JEAN is offering combat training to any citizen or Task Force member that desires it, regardless of volunteer status, during their shore leave between the hours of 6 AM and 1 PM.

The Prompt

Looking to volunteer? Wondering who Jean is to be doing this in the first place? Ol' "Slasher Face" Jean can be found when they're on shore leave, attending to a militia levy on the parade grounds once a week or so; someone else handles the drill during their off-weeks (likely one of the locals). Most of the training weapons are spears and knives, though staff fighting - everyone owns a broom or a rake, after all - is also prevalent.

It's the oddest thing though. Jean's facial expression perpetually looks like they're wondering what your flesh tastes like, and yet if you wander close enough they're a rather gentle teacher - encouraging, understanding, and fanatical about proper hydration and nutrition.

They don't seem to be doing many drills themself.

A Story Incomplete
Bart hasn't felt this good in years. The moment he'd stepped off the kindly boatman's vessel, he'd taken off his simple shoes and begun walking. Then he'd taken off running, and had run until he had to stop thanks to a cramp in his side. He coughs raggedly, and just for a moment, he looks panicked. He's looking at his hands, staring at the backs of them.

There's nothing there. No glow, no vascular deterioration, no darkness around his nail beds. He's fine. He's fine. He's just a little out of shape.

The figure he cuts as he perches out in the open, feeling the chilly breeze whipping around his hair and the simple clothing he'd arrived in, is less than impressive. He's skinny, malnourished, but for all that he had died in terrible condition, one look at his face would read as elation.

Of course, when he realizes someone is nearby, he'll turn and face them, and immediately look a bit more demure, shrinking in on himself, fingers twisting together with the barely-contained urge to ask every single question that's come to him since he'd found himself face to face with the woman in her sitting room. She hadn't entertained his questions for long, and neither had the boatman, but here, he looks ready to vibrate right out of his skin as he asks,

"Are you real?"

Broken Pieces At My Feet
He has never in his life been in a place that was so low-tech. His eyes veritably sparkle as he walks through Pumpkin Hollow, occasionally speaking up under his breath as he takes verbal notes. Cobblestone, brick, old-fashioned glass. Natural fiber, real paper, iron or steel, not an ounce of titanium in sight. Everything looks and feels so warm here, even as he catches a chill from the breeze off the ocean. He'll probably end up with a headcold from how long he's spending just wandering and taking note of everything. Worth it. So very, very worth it.

Bart will be stopping by the Clinic (either one really) to see what sort of facilities they have here. He's not a doctor, nor a medical student of any kind, but he is a biologist with manufactured genius behind him. He would be fully into coming on to help in whatever capacity they would let him.

This also applies to the Farmlands out on the edge of the village. He will be out there talking to some of the other villagers (of the NPC variety) about their crop, what sort of rotation they have going, the sorts of fertilizers they use, are they sharecroppers? Do they sell, are they self-sustaining, do they perhaps need help out here? He knows all sorts of little tricks to making things grow even in less-than-optimal conditions, after all! He was educated by an elite program, and above all he loved the work that he did. The being in charge of people, not so much; he would rather help people, study plants and animal biology, evolution and genetic modification. He could write them novels about the importance of genetic variation in both their crops and livestock.

He's probably getting annoying.

Obsolete
Bart is of course at the Oak & Iron, and once he's gotten his hands on a proper notebook and pencil, he is frantically writing, for hours on end. Journaling, documenting everything that he remembers down to the most minute detail. From the Mongolian Empire to the Torgal Corporation, to the Degasi and everything that he'd learned about the unnamed ocean planet that he'd ended up perishing on. He had to get it all down before it slipped out of his mind.

And then he could document everything here.

It may take a couple of tries to get his attention as he works. He sketches on blank pages examples of the technology that he'd worked with, animals and plants that he'd seen, his father and Marguerite. He carefully renders everything that he can. He's running out of paper.

Beam-In [Partially Closed to First Aid]

This place is. Rather primitive, isn't it? Vika steps off of the ferry with her body significantly changed, dressed in a rough cape wrapped around the worst of her body's damage; many systems have changed or are absent (where the fuck are her comms...), feeling the click-click-click-click of gears inside her chassis, tiny and improbably constructed. Some part of her knows that many of these mechanisms shouldn't work, that she's still Sufficiently Advanced Technology, even like this.

The rest of Vika is still falling apart. Her non-weapon arm ends in a blunt prosthetic hook, worse than the shitty grasper she'd been working with. Damn A. it all and B. the white-haired lady in particular. She's going to need to find work, which means finding someone competent to get her in working order. You might be approached by Vika here, lurching with a distinct limp and the most Done expression on her incongruously human face, to be asked about someone who can make or install arms or at least a new tool on the end of hers.

The weapon arm is, however, non-negotiable.

Eventually this quest brings her to First Aid. Being told that the doctor is a machine doesn't prepare Vika for the actual event of seeing him; when she walks into the clinic her hollow expression hardens, and that strange weapon that is her entire left arm starts charging. She opens her mouth, and a string of code spits out: 4964656e7469667920796f757273656c66.

'Identify yourself', from the hexadecimal. Her tone is not a request.

For Science [Edge of Town]

There's a robot flying through the trees. Terms and conditions apply. Vika needs to know the limits of her new body, and they're surprisingly similar to her old one. If you come to the edge of town you may just spot her sliding down trees only to leap off them and onto a new one, circling Pumpkin Hollow without ever quite touching the ground.

There's also a possibly awkward moment, involving Vika high up in the branches, pointing her weapon at a deer that is, and I cannot stress this enough, peacefully eating leaves.

She's charging to fire. There's nothing in those eyes.

Living Space [Oak & Iron]

Vika does not eat. Strictly speaking, she does not sleep. She's still winding down. When she left the ferry she had a massive wind-up key, and now she sits at the Oak & Iron, staring at it on the table. There's a slot in her back where it belongs, to keep her going, but does she trust the staff to do that for her?

She frowns. Vika's going to, essentially, starve to death without being wound. But caution wars with survival. Not just anyone can just, just, touch her mechanisms, that's...

Damn A. it all and B. the white-haired lady specifically, again.

Wildcard

Come at me

In the House of Asclepius

The Winterbottom clinic is the first and oldest doctor's office on the island, at least in the reckoning of the visitors from other worlds. Doctor Agnes Winterbottom is skilled and well-known to the local residents, but she'd also been on the wrong side of seventy when the curse began and was more than ready to retire. As soon as Chris Freeman and First Aid proved they could do her job, she was glad to leave them to it.

First Aid accepts appointments in the mornings and evenings (to accomodate the schedules of the miners and everyone else working full-time) with walk-in hours in the afternoon. If you're new, why not come in and see him? Establish a new medical relationship, tell him about any chronic issues you might have. Find out if that's really his real name.

Abstain From Intentional Wrong-Doing and Harm
[Jumping off Slasher Face Jean's prompt here.]

As an Autobot, a doctor, and an actual fragging ambulance, it's only natural that First Aid would sign up for the levy, medical team. God knows they need some organization around here, at least so he can focus on doing his part during emergencies without worrying that the entire rest of the town's going to fall straight into the smelter while his back's turned. He's hoping for a nice, civil conversation about resources and areas of expertise, with an agreement about triage procedures in place by the end of it and maybe a few volunteers willing to learn first aid. He's bracing himself to sit there and take it while Dr Pierce needles him like Frenzy with a stolen nailgun, assuming the man turns up at all. There will not be a repeat of the argument they had last week -- which is why he asked Chris to be the one to issue the invitations to this meeting.

The fact that they're meeting in the gazebo next to the parade grounds, during the same timeslot and within shouting distance of Jean's combat practice, is not a coincidence. Do you know how often people get hurt in training accidents, especially when they're just starting out? If anyone turns an ankle or gets hit on the head, there will doctors standing by. Potentially several of them. Because that's definitely not a recipe for disaster in its own right :)

i. Arrival - around Pumpkin Hollow - cw: very vague suicidal ideation

Kavinsky was...torn, honestly. A lot of complex, complicated events and emotions had led him to making the decision he had--and now he was being given a second chance. He'd taken it, of course, because he wasn't that sold on the idea of death. But he couldn't help but feel like this entire thing was- not a joke, exactly. More like a prank, except he didn't find it particularly funny overall. Some parts of it were, in some sort of twisted way, but he wasn't laughing as he stepped out of Town Hall.

Standing on the street outside, he looked one way and then the other, not in the way someone would check for cars but absolutely like he was checking for something. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he heaved a sigh.

"This is fucking ridiculous," he muttered, kicking at a loose stone. He'd already forgotten that he didn't exactly have a sturdy pair of sneakers here (yet), so kicking rocks wasn't the best decision he'd ever made. "Motherfucker." He scowled, trying to pretend his toes weren't now in some degree of agony.

He took a breath, then another, before looking down at the map he'd been given. Right. The tavern. "I could use a drink." Even if the alcohol would most likely be absolutely awful. If it got him drunk, he wouldn't complain too much.

ii. Spectral Creatures - [opting out of the Pine Devil, please!]

Kavinsky didn't have the first idea about what a Pokemon was. He wasn't afraid though and he would've had to be physically held back to keep him from entering Lockwood Forest. Just because something was a bad idea or potentially dangerous didn't mean he wouldn't do it. In fact, sometimes he was more likely to do something because it was a bad idea. He didn't have any impulse control--maybe Proko could have stopped him, but he might have also been right there next to him, too.

If anyone else happened to venture into the woods, they might end up stumbling across Kavinsky as he sat on the ground, occasionally feeding berries of some sort to a Phantump. Of course, he didn't know it was a Phantump; he just thought it was some kind of weird and cool little tree ghost dude.

"Phaaaan," the Pokemon said.

"Yeah, I get that," Kavinsky replied, holding out another berry. No, he had absolutely no idea what the Pokemon meant. It was like when people held conversations with their cat.

The Phantump eyed him for a moment before drifting close enough to pluck the berry from his hand and darting out of reach again. As if he was going to try and grab it or something (he wasn't).

"I bet you're lonely, too," Kavinsky added. "You don't have to be out here all by yourself, though."

iii. The Seance

He really didn't know why he'd gone along with this whole thing. He was so-so on the idea of ghosts but either way, he wouldn't have thought it was a good idea to fuck around with the dead. He firmly believed in leaving things be, letting sleeping dogs lie, that sort of thing.

He wasn't surprised when something didn't happen right away, after the candles flickered. He would've been more startled if ghosts had immediately popped up to say hello. Boredom set in as time dragged on, and when everyone started going to bed, Kavinsky didn't even make an attempt to fight for a guest room with a bed. Instead, he was fairly content to stretch out on the floor in the living room with a borrowed pillow tucked under his head.

Three am rolled around and Kavinsky had only been just starting to doze. So when the fireplace blazed to life, bathing him in warmth and light both, he immediately blinked awake. Pushing his dark hair back from his face, he sat up and looked around.

"I think it's a little fucking late," he muttered to himself after the decision was made to bail.

He didn't try to shoulder open a door or break a window to escape, rather, he watched others make attempts. The realization that they were trapped really only served to prove him right.

"Well," he said, after a long moment of consideration. "Do you think there's any salt left in the kitchen?"

Oak and Iron

After finding coins in his pants, that aren't actually his pants, Ash paid the ferryman and headed into town. Making his way toward the tavern he puts together everything he was told once he stepped off the ferry and condensed it down to; haunted island where he can't die, shitty clothes, no technology but they have a bar. So that is where he is going. He's curious just how far 'on their dime' goes.

"So, just how drunk can I get on absolutely no money." He asks to no one or everyone as he takes a seat and looks around.

Cemetery

Cemeteries are safe, everyone is already dead. Quiet too, you know, on account of everyone being dead. He doesn't know why he's here, yet again ripped from the world he knows and displaced. This time it feels worse. Empty. He's been wandering down every street and alley not finding the faces he hopes to find.

They aren't among the rows of the dead either.

Instead of making his way back to the Oak and Iron he gives up his search and sits down, a headstone serving as his backrest.

Wildcard - Up for anything. You can get me on Discord to chat if you wanna - matildawaltzes#4607

Edited (html fail on my first day! ) 2023-11-13 21:10 (UTC)

Bark at the Moon
Hank's first real mission as an enforcer was to follow up on a couple of teens who'd last been seen daring each other to go out in the woods.

"Never thought I'd ever miss being a desk jockey," he grumbles under his breath, lantern held down lower to make sure to spot any footprints out in the woods. "Damn kids being kids. Can't say I'm shocked that that's a universal constant."

Some time later, he sits on a stump, lit by the warm glow of his lantern as well as the cool, almost purple light of the shaggy white dog that's breaking its back with how hard it's wagging its tail around his feet.

"You some kinda ghost dog or something?" he asks, reaching down and taking the immense head in his hands, flopping the hairy ears around. There's a cold sting that leaves the tips of his fingers briefly numb, like forgetting his gloves on a stakeout, nothing at all like his own dog back home. But if he thinks too hard about Sumo, he might lose some of his traction, so he doesn't let that thought get any further than thinking about the reasons he wasn't as ready to move on as he once thought.

"Well, I'm on the lookout for some missing kids right now - You wanna help me find 'em? Yeah? Then I guess we'll figure out what to do with you after that..."

Fornever Laid to Rest ((cw: brief mentions of made-up drugs, child death, and depression))
Hank's never liked the whole psychic thing. He's dealt with a few, some he arrested (said red ice helped them see the visions clearer), others thought they'd try and make a quick buck off of a grieving father right up until he flashed his badge.

This is different. This is...almost scientific, in a way, and the fact that they've brought in security just to make sure nobody gets any wise ideas about pulling some Scooby-Doo bullshit is proof of that. Doesn't change his opinion a lick, but if he closes his eyes, he can almost hear Con--

Well. Doesn't matter. For the boring part of the seance, Hank is in security mode, casing out every potential ingress while Dr. West sets up and then standing, arms folded, in a corner of the room as everyone sits together on the floor.

When shit starts kicking off, however, he can't say he saw it coming.

"Jesus- Look out!"

Planets Collide
Hank can also be found around town, either with or without the spectral hound at his side. When he isn't getting the lay of the land, he's working on making himself a regular at the Oak and Iron, although for a change he doesn't drink anything stronger than beer.

i. beginnings
[ It is not over.

Of all the promises made about what was to become of them after death, of all the forces that battled for dominion over the Lands Between, none of them pictured... this. Souls spirited to a lost island, suspended and deathless. She would claim to know the cause of their plight if they were not clearly beyond the ken of her mother. Malenia is familiar with cursed, immortal things. All the Lands are. (How odd that her ascension did not follow her here. Is the reach of that god so short?)

It does not matter. If there is a chance for her return, she will return. There is no rest for one like her.

So she takes on her everlasting duty as guardian. At the very least, there is novelty in being at the bottom of the chain of command.

...

There is a seven-and-a-half-foot-tall woman with three golden armored prosthetics, a mane of scarlet red hair, a sword, and her eyes (and much of her skin) rotted out with disease, just sort of. Patrolling about.

..........

She is--with great difficulty, and exceedingly generous amounts of patience, as they will simply not stop phasing through walls--herding a group of Duskulls back towards the wood. She may need a hand. Not to replace the one she lost, just in general. ]

ii. on duty
[ Are you being pursued by Pumpkin Jack? Harassed? Attacked? Chased? Enjoying his company? Whatever your case is, it is about to end very, very, very soon. Malenia has followed the sound of laughter and/or screaming to the outskirts of town. It is no secret, either; the metal clink of her approach, the flashes of golden armor, all herald her arrival. ]

iii. wildcard
[ ... or, one may find her at the Oak & Iron, or exploring, or... ]

Edited 2023-11-22 04:06 (UTC)

[More context on Tarantulas's new, Pumpkin Hollow-unique appearance can be found here.]

The first day

A small whirlwind has set down in Pumpkin Hollow's secondhand clothing shop. Although their wares are simple and rough, Tarantulas is fascinated -- and he's also tired of freezing every time he sets foot outside. He needs at least one more layer before he can move around freely -- and they need to fit, a task made surprisingly difficult by his short height coupled with his broad shoulders and narrow waist. And then once he'd started touching things -- something he'd never been able to do before, he'd dressed the Megan Guiglione identity up like a digital doll and then 3D-printed her clothes right onto her body whenever dear Overlord decided it was time for a costume change -- and been struck by how soft the clothes are.

They are very, very soft. Sensuously soft. Soft enough that he keeps having to stamp down on the urge to put some fabric in his mouth, just to see what it feels like on the ever so much more sensitive sensors lining his new fleshy glossa -- but no. That would be uncivilized. And the shopkeeper would probably expect him to pay for anything he touched with a bodily fluid, which is even more important.

Tarantulas will glance over with an alert, curious look when the shop's front door opens, the eight spider legs protruding from his back curling closer to his body -- but he won't actually stop groping the woolly knitted shawl in his hands until someone makes him. Or something more interesting comes along. Maybe that something is you?

And several days after...

A spider the size of a dog has moved into town.

Not, like, a huge dog. A Tibetan mastiff or a dire wolf would definitely be bigger than this spider. A corgi would be smaller. So somewhere between those two points is this hairy, purple spider, skulking between buildings and scuttling up walls. It doesn't attack anyone...in fact it seems to be taking pains to stay out of sight. And it's fast, too, and exceedingly nimble. If you're lucky you might even catch it jumping from rooftop to rooftop, hampered only slightly by the full backpack it's carrying.

Rather an odd sight, isn't it? A dog-sized spider, a normal spider with a backpack...either one of those would be a strange sight. Both qualities taken together must, it stands to reason, be doubly odd. Maybe you should chase it, find out what it's all about?

Arrival

[Claude has never been one to let a setback keep him down for long; as it turns out, that even includes death. Possible death, anyway. He's also not one to simply believe whatever he is told, so the jury is still out on what or where exactly this place is, but it's not the first time he's had to adapt to a new culture.

In a strange way, it's-- nice, being no more important than any stranger he passes on the street, to be able to fade into the background in a way he never could as Grand Duke von Riegan. For his first few days in Pumpkin Hollow, he sits back and observes, familiarizes himself with the town and its colorful citizens.

That doesn't mean he won't strike up a conversation with an interesting looking stranger at The Oak & Iron while nursing a single beer over the course of an entire evening, though.]

Have you been in town long? Any tips for a newcomer?

Study Up

[Naturally, it doesn't take long for Claude to find himself at the library. What better way to get his bearings and learn about this new place he's found himself in than to bury himself in books? He hasn't been able to go on a research binge like this since his academy days, there's something painfully nostalgic about it...

He's completely taken over one of the tables, a variety of texts spread out and piled up along with at least three notebooks he's actively writing in. Books on Pumpkin Hollow's history and culture, yes, but also a guidebook on the local flora and fauna, technological advancements, and anything else that grabbed his interest. He's clearly been here for a while, and will be here for a while yet.]

Making Friends

[While the little charm from that sketchy merchant did end up costing a solid half of his wallet, there was just something about it... he needed to have it. With the very basics covered until he got his feet under him, it was much easier not to worry about it. It creates a bit of interest in the otherwise pretty bland outfit he arrived in, tying it to his belt.

In his wandering through the forest, the charm seems to catch the attention of one of the creatures there, a little dragon-like creature that sneaks up on him, takes the charm in her tiny maw, and tries to fly off with it only to realize that it's still very firmly tied to its current owner. The weak tug is still enough to catch his attention, and Claude lets out a slightly startled laugh at the little thing.]

Hey now, that's not for you. [Fortunately (after some research into the local flora to make sure he wouldn't poison himself), he's gotten his hands on what are probably the last berries growing this late in the season. He holds one out to the little creature, still tugging fruitlessly at the charm.] You hungry? Why not try this instead?

[The Dreepy looks between her failed catch and the berry, then up to Claude and back again, as though unsure whether to trust this offering. Fair enough, Claude isn't one to easily trust food from strangers either. He pops one of the other berries into his mouth, just in case.

Either that did the trick or she figured out her catch wasn't going anywhere and wasn't that tasty anyway, and the little ghost dragon snaps up the berry, partially phasing through his hand to do so. An instinctual shiver runs down his spine at the sensation. The Dreepy chirps happily, and continues to follow him in his exploration through the woods.]

misc

[Claude is very sociable and far too curious for his own good. You might find him pretty much anywhere.]

[ Note: Izuku's backstory is slightly modified so everything happened to him at a later time so he's 18 now! ]

Pokemon!

[ Izuku, in true Izuku fashion, has befriended quite a lot of Pokemon... He can't help it! If he sees any of them that look scared, he'll talk to them quietly and gently to coax them out and soothe them, and if any of them are trapped, he'll free them with soft reassurances.

He's headed the warnings not to go into the forest after nightfall but it's still pretty dark so he's grateful for the Litwick settled next to him providing some better light. He's got a Phantump and a Pumpkaboo he's playing a game of catch with, tossing and rolling a pinecone back and forth between the two, and there's a Shuppet and a Misdreavous playing a game of tag in a circle around his head. He's happy to have made some new friends! But he's still staying alert for danger since he's in an unfamiliar place. If he sees anyone approaching, he'll call out to them in greeting with a smile, giving anyone the benefit of the doubt first. ] Hello!

The Inn!

[ Izuku has been through a LOT in his life so coming close to dying isn't something he's unfamiliar with at this point... There's also no way he can turn down anyone who needs help, so it didn't take much to get him to agree to help here. If he can't get back home just yet, he might as well do what he can with where he is for the time being...

It's just he's not sure the best way to go about doing that yet, so he's standing inside the Oak & Iron, looking around lost and very much like a new person here... ]

Threaded | Flat

Pumpkin Hollow Gazette

11/10/23 | TDM #3 - "It Came from Beyond the Veil!" Content Warnings: [Article 5 (Further Details)] Murder, facial mutilation

BLUE ISLAND BEAST BESTED AT THE BEACH

SPECTRAL CREATURES INFEST FOREST; FRIENDLY OR HOSTILE?

A COMMUNITY MESSAGE FOLLOWING SEPTEMBER GALA

DR. WEST ANNOUNCES SEANCE

PUMPKINFEST MOOD LINGERS; LEEDS HEIRESS PROVIDES MOOD SETTER

Page 1

QUESTIONS/COMMENTS/CONCERNS

Chris Freeman [DC Comics] || Existing Player || OTA

Mary Dahl (Baby Doll) - Batman the Animated Series (Open to All)

Emery Deluca (OC) - New, Open to All

11/10/23 | TDM #3 - "It Came from Beyond the Veil!"
Content Warnings: [Article 5 (Further Details)] Murder, facial mutilation