TDM #2 - Down in the Underground

[pumpkinhollow]

Pumpkin Hollow Gazette Issue #3

Pumpkin Hollow Gazette

8/5/23 | TDM #2: "Down in the Underground"
Content Warnings: [Article 2] claustrophobia, caves, drowned corpse
[Article 4] Various violence by monster

We're glad you're here!

WELCOME TO PUMPKIN HOLLOW!

By Yorick Aberdeen

JACK'S MARINA - Reports from the Pumpkin Hollow Port Authority indicate that arrivals by otherworldly newcomers to Marrow Isle are continuing at a steady rate. The first batch of new arrivals, which had been the very first travelers to Pumpkin Hollow in at least five years’ time, began in early June of this year and have already proven to be an incredible boon to both our economy and our overall quality of life. We now have a new farm on the island for the first time in years, as well as clever new members of the constabulary, a few helpful craftspeople, and even our own brand new local musical act. Not only that, but the prestigious Ms. Dahlia Leeds has taken a personal assistant, which this reporter is pleased to announce has gotten him out of a number of mundane tasks. (No offense is meant to Ms. Leeds, of course--- the Pumpkin Hollow Gazette certainly harbors no ill will toward its most consistent donor!)

According to interviews with a number of these newcomers, they appear to all come from realms far beyond our own, to the point where they have homelands with unfamiliar names and have never heard of the Emerald Isles at all. Those willing to share more details report that they each met with a strange woman in a bland-looking office building who offered them a chance at a new life, then found themselves on the ferry here. None of them seem to know anything further, as far as the Pumpkin Hollow Gazette is aware. Curious circumstances indeed.

That said, we are beyond pleased to welcome even more new neighbors to our fair town. Any newcomers should feel welcome to come to Town Hall if they are in any need of assistance. Mayor Poe and any member of Town Council would all be more than happy to lend a hand.

Additionally, the Temple of Sacred Roots will be holding a small gathering on temple grounds to welcome any wayward souls who could use a bit of help adjusting. Reverend Degas Clayton would also like to remind everyone that he is always available to offer guidance after any of his Sunday sermons unless otherwise stated. He has expressed an interest in personally welcoming as many new residents as he is able.

Hopefully things will continue to look up for Pumpkin Hollow as more arrivals land upon our docks. This will be of particular importance as we draw ever closer to Autumn. October in particular promises to be an especially difficult time, as usual. The Pumpkin Hollow Gazette will report further on our paranormal forecast as the season of spirits draws near. We hope to keep local casualties to a minimum this year after last year’s record high.

In any case, best of luck to our new residents, and welcome again!

NOTORIOUS 'RIVER WALKER' SPOTTED AFTER LONG ABSENCE; EXTREME CAUTION ADVISED

By Yorick Aberdeen

The Paring River Bridge in Lockwood Forest.

LOCKWOOD FOREST (Paring River) - Woodland travelers beware! And not just for all of the usual reasons, either. This past weekend, local shepherd Joseph Peterson reported to the local constabulary that he had an encounter with a creature that had been presumed to have moved on from our fair isle. Peterson, 37, allegedly came across the beast colloquially known as the “River Walker” while crossing the Paring River bridge near the entrance of Lockwood Forest, where he was grabbed and knocked out. Once he regained consciousness, Peterson then reported being lost in an underground cave system whilst being pursued by the monster for an unknown amount of time estimated between six and twelve hours.

The River Walker, a spider-like creature with the face of a human corpse, is so named because it appears to exclusively use the Paring River as its hunting ground. The creature is apparently completely unique to Marrow Isle, as the Pumpkin Hollow Historical Society was unable to uncover folklore or recorded sightings of anything matching the River Walker’s description in any of the texts they have access to. However, through collecting data from resurrected residents who were its victims, the Town Hall Safety Board was able to glean information about this menace that should help citizens avoid yet another timely demise.

Firstly, all residents traveling in the Lockwood Forest should steer clear of the Paring River if possible. While it is true that the Paring River cuts directly through the forest near the entrance and arcs through the majority of the woodlands, and also that the main path through the woods which goes over the Paring River bridge is the only way through to Crane’s RIdge or any of the hunting areas, the river should still be avoided whenever residents are able. This will minimize potential contact.

Secondly, be aware of your surroundings when near the river. Data indicates that the creature will make a soft chittering sound before reaching up to grab a victim. Many prior victims also report the surrounding area seeming “too still” when the creature was in the area. If you experience any of these phenomena, it would be wise to run--- though most reports suggest that outrunning the River Walker aboveground is impossible. But still, it is important to do your best.

And lastly, should you be taken below ground with this monstrous creature, it will transport you to tight underground caves where you will be forced to crawl, squeeze, and climb for your life. All the while it will follow you, taunting and toying with you. Utilize these long, grueling hours to your advantage! Studies have shown that the River Walker struggles to attack groups of two or more effectively, so while you are being tortured, search for a traveling companion!

If you do encounter the River Walker, please report the sighting to the Town Council or the Historical Society regardless of whether or not you die. Those killed by the River Walker are encouraged to stop by the Oak & Iron for a copy of the Safety Board’s Advice Pamphlet for the Recently Deceased after resurrecting. And remember, quitters are tastier prey, so don’t give in to despair! Even if you are caught and killed, you can at least say you persisted out of spite.

BLUE ISLAND CRAB HATCHING SEASON BEGINS AS SUMMER HEAT PERSISTS

By Yorick Aberdeen

A little sketch by yours truly.

TAWNY BEACH - If you’re out on the beach enjoying the last month of warm sea water, be mindful where you step! Earlier this spring, the local Blue Island Crab population had their mating season. Males of the species came up on the shore with clusters of tiny but durable eggs bundled up in their claws and buried them in the sand, and they’ve been warmed by the summer sun all season. As we enter the last month of summer the new crabs are finally ready to emerge from their birthplaces and begin their lives.

It is worth noting, however, that newborn Blue Island Crabs tend not to go directly back to the sea. In fact, it is common for them to spend the first few weeks of their lives searching for food and nesting materials such as seashells, driftwood, broken pottery, or small pieces of metal roughly the size of the average piece of valuable jewelry. They are also very adept climbers and are capable of scaling stairs and countertops with relative ease. Additionally, they seem to be able to communicate well with others of their species and are capable of collaborating. Many townsfolk have even gone so far as to describe their behavior as “scheming.” Blue Island Crabs are also notorious for not being very picky about what they eat. All this is to say, expect to have your food, personal items, and practically anything that is not tied down stolen by small blue crabs.

An unfortunate side effect of the hex has been that the beloved and highly anticipated Cucumber Festival, which normally takes place in early June, had to be canceled due to a lack of cucumbers. This has earned the ire of a great many residents who have cited the festival as “their last source of a modicum of joy on this goddess-forsaken island”, among other more colorful statements.

But there is good news! Hatching season and the subsequent early life of the crabs, all told, will not last more than a few weeks before the crabs mature enough to return to the sea with the rest of their kind. And of course those lucky enough to catch some will report that they make for a fine meal. There is no finer party dish than a Blue Island crab boil!

INCREASED PINE DEVIL SIGHTINGS SPELL BAD NEWS FOR LOCAL PEDESTRIANS

By Yorick Aberdeen

A painting of the Pine Devil provided by Mayor Poe

ISLAND-WIDE - In more concerning news, reports have been coming in from all over the island that there have been an uptick in sightings of the Pumpkin Hollow Howler. Otherwise known as the Pine Devil, this extremely dangerous man-eating beast has been a staple of Marrow Isle’s rotating cast of horrors for at least the past 15 years. Much like the aforementioned River Walker, the Pine Devil has a tendency to come and go and sightings fluctuate with some regularity. It seems that as we draw closer to prime haunting season we will be faced with increased appearances from the island’s least-favorite celebrity.

Here’s what we know:

The Howler’s primary motivation is to eat and he prefers larger prey. This includes pigs, cattle, deer, and humans. He has no known den and is apparently nomadic. No one has ever been able to locate the Pumpkin Hollow Howler when he is not actively hunting. At full height, he stands a whopping eight feet tall on unguligrade legs. He has clawed hands and large fangs which are its primary method of attacking and is capable of flight, and his eyes glow blue in the dark. He is a strong, fast creature who has no qualms about coming into town if necessary. Surviving encounters with the beast is notably rare.

If you have any encounters with the Pumpkin Hollow Howler, report to Town Hall or the constable’s station at your earliest convenience to make an incident report. The constabulary is taking reports 24 hours a day, so please make your report either immediately after the incident or upon resurrection. May your lanterns stay lit, and be safe out there!

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Captured by the River Walker? Click here…

Perhaps you didn’t read the paper. Perhaps you didn’t take the warnings seriously. Or maybe you simply had no other choice. Whatever the case may be, the Paring River Bridge lies before you, and the world around you is unnaturally still. The sounds of chirping birds, burrowing mammals, and chittering insects have all died and left the air uncannily silent.

You attempt to hurry across, hoping to make it before anything unsavory catches your scent. But the moment you place your foot upon the stone pavers of the bridge, it is already too late. Behind you, you can hear the scuttling of much too large insectoid legs and a soft rattling sound, almost like the sound of a woodpecker drilling into a tree but somehow… wetter.

Instinctively, you turn to look behind you. A bulbous, lumpy abdomen drags the ground, and from it extends a set of eight black legs, chunky and irregular, as if they were wooden stakes hewn into rough points with a careless knife. Long, spindly fingers extend from thin arms on either side of an emaciated torso covered in shiny black insect carapace. And on top, the face of a human woman who looked as though she’d been drowned, bloated and rotting. White eyes, matted brown hair, and a wicked smile framed by patchy blue lips.

You black out before you even have the chance to scream.

When you awaken, your head is pounding as if you’ve just woken from a bender. You are on a dirty, irregular stone floor. The beginnings of stalagmites jab into your back. In the distance, you can hear dripping water and the shifting of something moving. It is dark, but light enough to see by, allowing you to see plainly that the ceiling above you is significantly too low for you to stand.

Then, you hear a laugh, hoarse and cruel. “Rise and shine, little morsel. Oh, how I do love to play with my food…”

That’s your cue to get moving.

For the next several long, grueling hours, you crawl your way through this tight and unrelenting fortress of stone on hands and knees as rocks cut into your hands. In caves that are tall enough to stand, you have to walk sideways to proceed or even hold your breath in order to make it, and all the tunnels look more or less the same. The River Walker’s raspy voice echoes off the walls, making its location imperceptible… but it’s close.

You need to find a traveling companion. And soon.

Interested in encountering the Pine Devil? Click here...

The Pine Devil is a mod-run NPC and we can only handle a certain number of encounters at once. For this TDM we will be favoring new characters on a first-come, first-served basis. However, you may still handwave or summarize the encounter by rolling a D20 with 15+ to survive and 18+ to walk away unscathed, and write out the aftermath. You do not need a mod’s permission to do this!

You also do not need to fill out a Death Certificate if you're not fully apped in, but can if you want to. Your character will resurrect as normal either way!

Comments

[somebodychildofanyone]

"More like buttonholes," River agrees with a lilting laugh. "And if I'm writing a wishlist, pockets on the inside might be nice, Goody...?"

[witheredpeonies]

“Miss Whitlock. Annabel Lee Whitlock.” Goodwife had fallen out of favor by her time, and by using it, River’s placed herself as old-fashioned compared to Annabel Lee, but not too-too far back.

Then again, the ears are another note of oddity. People really do come from all sorts of different worlds and between Mort and River, ears seem to be the obvious tell of that.

[somebodychildofanyone]

Closely observe the ears of those you meet on the road, lest ye deal unknowing with a fae -

"Pleasure to meet you, Miss Whitlock," River returns, still smiling. "I don't expect charity, I can pay in Brass or in kind, if you need any metalworking done. Just picked up a day job down at one of the local forges, something to do to help the overall effort and, y'know...eat."

[witheredpeonies]

“I’ve been taking payment in brass, mostly. There’s nothing I can think of that I would need forged.” There’s a tiny pause in which Annabel imagines herself with a broadsword, a completely ridiculous mental image. “Right, so cold brass.”

[somebodychildofanyone]

River nods. "But if you do ever find yourself in need of needles, wire, even parts for machines if you can find me the blueprints..."

Fun fact about the sewing machine: it was invented in 1830.

"...Or whatever else. I'm happy to work." They're about to be running up on the edge of polite conversation unless River makes a move here, so she does: "If you need to take measurements...or if I could be so bold as to invite you to a cup of coffee...?"

[witheredpeonies]

“I will need measurements at some point, once you have the cloak for me to work on. But in the meantime…coffee?”

Annabel genuinely isn’t sure what River is looking for from her. But she’s certain there must be a catch, a trick somewhere. You don’t just invite a woman out for coffee. Do you?

“…I’d be delighted.”

[somebodychildofanyone]

Slightly mismatched hospitality cultures go brrr.

River offers an arm but won't be too put out if it's not taken. Oak & Iron is the destination. "Can't say how relieved I was that this place still has coffee. My adopted sister introduced me to it, the extended family has a branch that ships it across the sea. Hard to get the good stuff." Keep it light and easy, find a way to ask why Miss Whitlock is dead...

[witheredpeonies]

The arm is taken daintily. “Tea is more common where I’m from originally, but coffee tends to be popular in the States, so as long as it’s sugared and creamed properly, I will take it.”

Especially when being polite. And dropping the mention of the States is a way of trying to gauge how different their worlds are.

[somebodychildofanyone]

River's ears swivel in Annabelle's direction. States? As in like, a specific collection of them? Or as differentiated from a frontier? Or anarchist communities? The realms of the gods? The realms of the dead? Unformed chaos? The absence of matter?

Robert isn't here haunting River on Marrow Island but she can still hear his voice saying that she's overthinking this, so: "The style back in Greenwall is black with sugar, got popular a couple monarchs back and then stuck around 'cause it's a good, simple way to make coffee...well, and the Farmers' Guilds would riot if we tried anything else." She grins, a sunny and bright expression, an absolutely genuine attempt to express the punchline on the joke. "Thank the gods they let the beekeepers in, but...anyway. Are you from these States?"

[witheredpeonies]

"Hm? No, I'm from a city called London, originally. Though my father brought me to the United States--to New York--to seek appropriate marriage prospects for me. I'd rather worn through the potential matches back home."

She smiles like there's some hidden amusement there. Which, of course, there is.

[somebodychildofanyone]

United States, okay, it's a specific collection of political bodies. Sense made. "Marriage prospects sounds...rough. If this were back home I'd be assuming you're nobility from that, shipping out to a different...nation? And all." She's not going to say that this 'London' would also implicitly be tiny and in deep shit if it couldn't marry its nobles off internally. "Duchess Henrietta's staring down the bolt of that crossbow herself, tryin' to grin and bear it."

River's trying to sympathize, but there's no escaping that she's got the luxury of marrying for love.

[witheredpeonies]

"Not nobility, quite. My father was in business--a merchant negotiating trade across the ocean. And I had standards few men could meet. I told my father I'd marry a man who could defeat me in chess, and none in London ever managed."

Nor anyone since as far as she can remember.

[somebodychildofanyone]

River laughs, delighted. "That's clever, bold move. My sister's been teaching me chess, it might be nice to stay in the habit if you don't mind an inexperienced opponent. I promise not to propose if you teach me well enough to best you one day."

[witheredpeonies]

"Well, it's not like we could get married, both being women and all." She laughs like the very idea is ridiculous, trying to get the mental image of Lenore's dark painted smile out of her head.

[somebodychildofanyone]

"What fucking nightmare world are you from?"

The realization is Instant. River's face goes from shock and outrage to 'dear gods don't hit me' slightly faster than the speed of light. Her ears flatten against her head, a cringe that goes right along with the rest of her body.

...But she doesn't take it back.

[witheredpeonies]

"If women could marry women, no man would ever have an heir again--all the women would obviously go with one another."

Obviously.

[somebodychildofanyone]

"...Miss Whitlock, I. Don't know how to tell you this, but if I don't say it now I'll have to say it in the inn which is just down the street there, so. I'm going. To beg your pardon in advance, but I think I might have the exciting news for you that you're one of uh. Reality's many lesbians. Women commonly marry women on my world. My sister's married to a lad and a lass who are in turn also married to one another. What you're describing as a social norm is as inconceivable to me as if you'd said your mighty navies ply seas of melted cheese."

[witheredpeonies]

"Your sister is married to two people?"

Pardon, you've managed to shock her hard in return.

"How does that even work?"

[somebodychildofanyone]

Visible relief on this elf, Miss Whitlock isn't reacting with immediate fury. Technically this kind of talk is a la Croix's job but damn if River low key wasn't expecting to do it ever.

"Umm...on the legal end they're all living in outlaw territory so no problems there. Romantically..." River's expression softens into something fond. "...My family does a hard job. My sister, Brianna, she can be down on herself a lot because she does the job really well. Her spouses kinda balance her and each other out. Nate's this Hero, all compassion and reckless bravery, lost a leg protecting strangers, but Amy is a feral and affectionate lass, good at loving people and also uh, stabbing them. They're more together than they could ever be apart."

[witheredpeonies]

"And they're happy together like that? As...three, instead of two?"

She can't imagine anything like it. It would be scandal, the talk of London in the worst possible way back home.

[somebodychildofanyone]

"...Miss Whitmore, if I could be half as happy it'd be better than I deserve. I can't say they or, well, we, live an idle life right now, but..." River pauses. "Well. Point of fact I don't live any life right now, got killed by a damn pirate to get here, but more to the point they're a little busy, y'know? Maybe there'll be problems in peace that there aren't right now in war, but you can't live in the future any more than you can sail the dairy seas."

River stops a little shy of the inn and takes a deep breath, offering a hand out to Annabelle. "...There's nothing wrong with you if you're romantically inclined to women. That just happens. Anyone here gives you the faintest insult over it, let me know, I'll deliver them a pretty specific beating. This place is strange to me, and the gods of my people aren't here, and I don't understand the culture, but if that's part of it...if that's part of it I don't care how many people I've gotta fight until the rot is burnt out."

[witheredpeonies]

There is a certain delicacy in how Annabel takes River's hand, like a maiden accepting the offered hand of a knight, in so many stories over so many years before. Chivalrous, polite, with just the (heh) ghost of an idea of anything more.

"Thank you for your kindness."

[somebodychildofanyone]

The faintest touch of pink, in River's cheeks. "Think nothing of it. 's my job. Family thing, kinda...hard to explain..."

She sighs in frustration at herself, trilling in a musical language that matches her accent much better than whatever oddity is letting everyone understand each other. "Wren damn my eyes," River translates, deflating some. "I'm hardly gonna get a better chance to say what I've been trying to say since I walked up, not after delivering that. Odd shock. By mistake. Miss Whitlock, I'm a necromancer by profession. I'm not going to insult your cunning by explaining how you caught my attention."

And more to the point, she's not going to say 'you're a fucking ghost' in the middle of this street.

[witheredpeonies]

"A...a necromancer?" Oh, it's not that she can't piece together what the word means, but despite her nature, she's never encountered one of River's ilk before. It's something she has no experience with.

River's hand is dropped. Annabel Lee takes a single step back, hands coming up to her chest defensively. Not in fists to attack, but more the soft gasp and hand to the collarbone of a lady who might be about to faint.

[somebodychildofanyone]

"You're in no danger from me," River says in a low, gentle voice. "...It's the family business. The first necromancer was someone with the guts to talk to the dead like a person, and that's the job. All I needed to ask has been answered, I think. The white-haired lady invited you here, same as me, right?"