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ph_logs2023-10-29 07:54 pm
pumpkinhollow) wrote in ph_logs2023-10-29 07:54 pm
Halloween Special Pt 2 - The Nightmare Carnival
THE NIGHTMARE CARNIVAL
The Blood Moon Rises
Ah, Pumpkinfest. Pumpkin Hollow’s hallmark event.
The festival was created early on after the town’s inception, both in light of the abundant pumpkin harvest for which the town is named and to mark the Season of Spirits as having truly begun. It is one of the few times of year when staying out after dark is encouraged--- Jack-o-Lantern night and raucous merrymaking seemed to drive away much of the danger. And for just a few blessed days, all seems well. No monsters to devour, no horrors to haunt, no tragedy to endure. Just one week of food and music and joy, surrounded by warm light that the darkness beyond cannot seem to touch.
The light of the full moon is set as the indicator of the festival’s culmination, and the final night of Pumpkinfest is now underway. There is an air of bittersweetness today, the knowledge that this haven will dissipate tomorrow hanging unspoken over the festival. It is a blessing and a curse, encouraging more vigorous celebration from those with a fear of missing out, but also a layer of anxiety about what is to come. Things have been too peaceful for too long. What horrors lay on the other side of this temporary joy?
As it turns out, no one will have to wait all that long for the answer.
The festival was created early on after the town’s inception, both in light of the abundant pumpkin harvest for which the town is named and to mark the Season of Spirits as having truly begun. It is one of the few times of year when staying out after dark is encouraged--- Jack-o-Lantern night and raucous merrymaking seemed to drive away much of the danger. And for just a few blessed days, all seems well. No monsters to devour, no horrors to haunt, no tragedy to endure. Just one week of food and music and joy, surrounded by warm light that the darkness beyond cannot seem to touch.
The light of the full moon is set as the indicator of the festival’s culmination, and the final night of Pumpkinfest is now underway. There is an air of bittersweetness today, the knowledge that this haven will dissipate tomorrow hanging unspoken over the festival. It is a blessing and a curse, encouraging more vigorous celebration from those with a fear of missing out, but also a layer of anxiety about what is to come. Things have been too peaceful for too long. What horrors lay on the other side of this temporary joy?
As it turns out, no one will have to wait all that long for the answer.
Hail to the Prince
[ Content Warnings: Rot, viscera, blood and other bodily fluids, clowns. ]
When the orange light of October sunset fades to a deep blue twilight, the merriment is proceeding as they had each night previous. However, the moment the sun dips fully below the horizon, all its protection goes with it.The Sanguine Moon shines a brilliant orange overhead, looming close.
The clock tower chimes the hour of 7pm, but the bells sound sour. Too loud. The first hint that something is wrong, as if to get everyone’s attention before the trouble begins in earnest.
Once the seal is broken, the festival begins to change. Jack-o-Lanterns pop one at a time in a shower of black and red confetti, replaced by garish red and orange balloons wearing crudely drawn and monstrous faces. Food and drink are transformed in puffs of hideous chartreuse smoke, becoming other substances. These range from benign things such as clumps of peach jam, rotten fruit, or stagnant lake water to obscene things like unidentified offal, bile, and slimy filth. Carnival games inexplicably go up in flames, or are swarmed by bats or bugs, or simply turn to mud or sand and collapse. And the stage, which had been all prepared for Grace Holloway’s final festival performance, is briefly covered by a hideous theatrical curtain covered in chaotic patterns. When the curtain rises again, it has been completely redecorated.
The stage is now set for a harlequin act. A checkered-diamond drape now lines the back of the stage, framed by other swooping fabric swags in colors which are poorly matched. Unlit braziers are seated on either side, spilling over with copious handfuls of pumpkin guts in lieu of fire. Garlands made of foul-smelling seaweed, river reeds, strips of moth-eaten and blood soaked gauze and wilted poppies dangle in an intricate web from the rafters, rotten apples hanging from them like holiday ornaments. Animal bones and insect corpses hang from threads and litter the floor. And in the center, there is a vile and wretched mockery of a throne. It is constructed of more bones, bearing cracked halves of a broken skull on each armrest and draped in tattered silks and cobwebs.
On the throne, there sits a strange jester. His skin is a deep, dark gray, which stands in stark contrast against his gleaming white voids of eyes and enormous, crooked, toothy grin. He is wearing a patchwork costume of cobbled-together fabrics, some of which look more like thin strips of raw meat sewn to the velvet or brocade of the other pieces. His hat is enormous and seems to defy gravity, the bells jingling out abrasive and sour notes as he moves.
The jester stands, taking a bow and cackling.
“Hello, Pumpkin Hollow! Such a pleasure to meet you all at last. Do allow me to introduce myself--- I am Mendel, the Prince of Fools, and your Master of Ceremonies for this final night of Pumpkinfest! My family and I have had a special fondness for this place for many a year now, and as such, I felt it only right to liven up your party. I’ve added a whole host of unique games and a number of my helpful staff. I do hope you enjoy it! You won’t really have any choice. Ta-ta!” Reeling back, he tosses a smoke bomb onto the stage, releasing an enormous, choking plume of rainbow-colored smoke. He vanishes, and so do you. When next you open your eyes, you will find yourself in one of Mendel’s torture games now littered around town.
Welcome to the Nightmare Carnival.
TOPSY TURVEY TERROR
[ Content Warnings: extreme likelihood of character death by ice, fire, poison, crushing, physical or supernatural violence, or by accident. Mind/body control. Disrespectful treatment of the dead. General torture. ]
A procession, raucous and grand, pushes through town. Ghouls and infernal creatures from another world throw themselves into the crowds of people, snaring people in one-armed embraces, twirling them in energetic dances, tossing arms around their shoulders and swaying with joy.And what a joyous day it is, for the Carnival is to begin.
It seems in an instant that the colorful banners of Pumpkinfest begin to change, though whether through the light or the color itself was up for debate. Crimson torches dotted the streets, burning bright and crackling in the wind, and on the horizon, the Effigy was raised.
A mass of twigs, sticks, and foliage, in the shape of a person reaching to the sky. In its strange way, the pose almost looks almost reverent. With hair formed out of browned strands of weeping willow and a linen garment fashioned to look like the robes of the Temple, it seems to represent the late Merrick Gladwyn--- an act of further disrespect by the infernal invaders.
As it is lit, this reverence turns to a burning despair as its face is warped and distorted by heat, silent laments and pleas for aid to the Goddesses themselves that would go unheard.
Let the games begin.
The games in the carnival are all seated by unwilling participants, placed there by the Carnival Master, the Prince of Fools. The placement happened in a blink of an eye - one moment, the villagers were scattered about the streets, and next, they were randomly assigned to grim games with dire consequences--- and no escape.
Any unfortunate souls at the Nightmare Carnival will find themselves cast into one of the following games and spectacles to have their unfortunate souls:
Misfortune Teller Not all predictions of the future are particularly fortunate. The figure in the fortune-telling tent, hunched shoulders and face hidden beneath an ornate hooded shawl, slowly moves to begin drawing cards. They at first appear to be classic tarot cards, but drawing them reveals that they are… strangely specific. Do those depictions of people on them look familiar? They almost seem to shift as they're looked upon. How odd.
The misfortune teller will provide a reading that portends all manner of harrowing fates, seen below.
1. Death's Unwavering Grasp: You begin to wither at a rapid pace, losing strength with every passing second. At the end of it, you perish. This is (debatably) the worst possible outcome. 2. Visions of Plague: You fall ill, the severity of which is chosen by the player. Your escape is made more difficult by this, and it lingers beyond the carnival, as long as a normal illness of whatever chosen type would.
3. Once Frostbitten, Twice Shy: An unnatural hypothermia begins to set into you. Heat seems to do little to cast it away, but the rise of morning will thaw the curse. Can you manage to stave off the cold, or will you freeze to death in its wake?
4. Aching Hearts: An opinion of one of your loved ones has completely shattered, and you can't seem to understand why, nor shake the feeling. All you know is that somehow you are overcome with the notion that this person has hurt or betrayed you, currently feeling beyond repair. Drama!
5. Thousand-Mile Dash: You run. You run, and run, and run, until your legs no longer carry you. When your legs can no longer carry you, you crawl until your fingers bleed. (Think the dancing plague, but much... faster???)
6. Turning, Burning: In your eyes, everything is becoming consumed by flame. This doesn't impact anyone else, but if anyone is feeling skeptical, you'll receive actual burns from the invisible fires!
7. Crystalline Consumption: Starting at one small point, shining crystals in any given color begin to consume your flesh. If allowed to go on for too long, you will become a crystalized statue, and perish.
8. Stygian Awakening: The crimson flame burns in your heart. You find yourself hearing the true jubilation around you, instead of witnessing the horrors. You have fallen under Mendel's thrall. May the Goddesses have mercy on your fellow villagers you come across in this state, as you will take on both a demonic appearance and an infernal mindset.
9. Splitting Your Sides: It starts as a chuckle, a chortle, a snicker. Did the misfortune teller say something funny? All you know is that, now, you can't seem to stop yourself from laughing, growing more and more intense with every passing moment. Your lungs burn for air, your side hurts, your lips split, your face aches, but you simply can't help yourself. You laugh into the long, dark night. (Though unlikely, your character *can* die from this!)
10. The Path to Freedom: You abruptly learn the exact directions through the darkened forests to one of the abandoned cabins, isolated and away from the carnage. Congratulations! Now, just make sure you can actually make it there...
Hall of Mirrors
You find yourself in a complex maze made of mirrored walls, tasked with the objective of finding your way to the exit. As if this weren’t disorienting enough, there is an added, dangerous twist--- you are being followed. Not by any monster or specter, but by yourself. Indeed, one of your many, many reflections has gone rogue, and seeks to corner you too close to the glass pane which contains it and attack you. It cannot fully emerge, but its hands are capable of grabbing you and attacking!
However, in the distance, you can hear something. Perhaps a scream or the scuffling sounds of violence. There are other victims in the maze with you! It’s possible you can reach each other and put your heads together to escape, but beware: this doubles the danger by allowing your reflections to collaborate as well.
Knife-Throwing
A test of dexterity and skill, you are tasked with throwing knives at a slowly spinning round board with targets painted onto it. However, this game comes with a dangerous consequence: one of your fellow townsfolk is affixed to the wheel, and a lack of aim could spell their doom. Roll a D20 for one of the following results:
1-3: You miss your target. Instead, the knife has pierced a vital organ of your companion, and they die.
3-5: A miss, off the board. Your ghastly audience isn't pleased about this.
5-10: A miss, with impact on your companion, though non-lethal. Ouch!
10-15: A miss, on the board. A boring result that leaves the crowd in a grumbling huff.
15-20: You hit your target, and your companion remains unscathed! Success! The other person is released, and the two of you may attempt to escape the Nightmare Carnival.
You have as many rolls as you need to finish the game, which happens either when you hit your target or kill your counterpart.
Escape Room
You and one other resident have been placed into a room, decorated with assorted puzzles lining the walls and furniture within. An hourglass sits upon a table, counting down, and all the doors and windows are locked. Working together, you must solve the puzzles before the time runs out.
The puzzles within and their solutions are always randomized! Therefore, no guidance will give you any hints on how to get out.
[This means you can make up the puzzles and their solutions yourselves rather than relying on a mod or hidden secrets. This should make it flow a little easier for you. Enjoy!]
Those who fail to complete their challenge in time find themselves in an equally random peril that will result in their deaths if they don't take the last few seconds to escape. These things can include spikes dropping from the ceiling, the room being filled with smoke, flames, water, or noxious gas, or the walls closing in to crush those inside.
Duel to the Death
The Prince of Fools knows your heart, and has used it against you.
You've been placed into a combat arena, stone walls lining a dirt floor in a wide circle. Across from you is another competitor, but not just anyone - someone you hold dear. Weapons hang from imposing hooks scattered along the walls of the arena, and the horn has sounded. No words are needed to understand what is at play, in this horrible place: this is a battle to the death.
A few things are readily apparent upon entering the ring: both you and your opponent are feeling stronger, meaning that you can take far more licks than usual before falling. Many of the weapons dotting the walls are strikingly familiar, but there is something off about them.
Upon taking a weapon, the strange energy about the weapons becomes clear: they crave blood with a near-sentience, and your movements are no longer solely your own. No matter how your mind wrestles with them, they will charge into combat with reckless abandon with intent to kill.
Should you succeed in killing your opponent, you're celebrated by your monstrous crowd! A gate lifts, and you're given a few choice moments to escape the arena and attempt to escape the town entirely before you're dragged into a new terrible happening. Should you and your opponent try to refuse the fight, the crowd takes matters in their own hands and makes sure both of you suffer your fate together. Seemingly infinite and not felled easily, they rush into the arena, joined by warped beasts released from the iron gates, and intend to make your and your friends' blood spill one way or another.
| SPECIAL THANKS: Thank you, Harvey, for writing the games section! |
A) Procession
But another ghoul grabs Eddie by the shoulders and swings him violently into a pile of mud, crawling with bugs, that used to be a normal carnival game. Eddie struggles to his feet in time to see the Effigy raised.
It doesn't fill him with the personal affront and horror of the locals, but he knows enough of the recent history to put the pieces together when the Temple-goers begin to shout and wail as the Gladwyn effigy burns.
"There's nothing good this place won't try to ruin..." Eddie growls. He's probably in earshot of Rachel by now. (Good time to ask questions if you've got 'em...)
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Disheveled from fending off her own share of creatures, she approaches Eddie, her stringy hair matted by dirt and sweat. One of her shoes is missing, as it had been lost during a wild dance with a ghoul.
"Hello," she says with a touch of friendliness in her froggy voice. "I saw how you handled yourself just now."
Instinctively, she feels drawn to staying close to someone who might be of aid in this mayhem, and if she can learn to hold her own in the process, all the better.
"Any tips?"
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This holds especially true after Agent Jean attacked Mendel right away and got thrown to the Misfortune Teller for the trouble.
"The one who interrupted Mendel's speech? They're one of our best front-line fighters. And you saw how they got neutralized." Eddie hurries with Rachel in a southerly direction, and explains, "The beach is to the south, it's away from the town proper. Then you can head west to the farms and maybe take shelter out there. I don't know if houses in town will be safe or under the demons' influence. There's the forest to the north, but that has monsters, too."
Hopefully they've escaped notice by the demons, but... there's always the chance the two will be caught and dragged back to the twisted games.
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At the moment, confidence is definitely something she could use. Uncertainty isn't her friend, as it breeds discomfort and a sense of helplessness. Witnessing what befell the person who dared to interrupt Mendel's speech had been unnerving enough, but learning they were among the most skilled frontline fighters heightened the disquiet.
As they continue to distance themselves from the carnival, Rachel processes the information swiftly and with care. She treads lightly on the foot without a shoe, avoiding any potential hazards.
"What will you be doing?" Rachel wears a look of honest concern for the stranger kind enough to indulge her.
"And is hiding, leaving everyone else behind, our only option?"
That's one way of looking at it.
-
ooc;
Been nursing a head cold over the past two days, so apologies for any slowness on my end!
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"Hiding is going to be our best option, but I can't do that. I have to go back for my friend Sally and her baby." Eddie takes a moment to think. "Finding a safe house to hide in would give others a place to retreat to, so it's not entirely self-serving. If you think you can recover others from the Carnival... I won't stop you."
Eddie still doesn't see himself as a leader. He can come up with plans, he can coordinate clean-up efforts, but he's not comfortable with ordering people to do things. It's just not his way. So that's what he's doing here... giving her the best plan he's got, and his reasons, and then letting her decide what she'll do.
"By the way, I'm Eddie. One of the farms is mine, and you're welcome there regardless."
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"Appreciate that. I'm Rachel."
Hearing Eddie acknowledge this matter eases Rachel's mind; self-serving is not something she knows how to be.
"I'll head there," she nods, but with reservations. Her expression suggests contemplation, hinted by the subtle pursing of her lips. It's a good plan that she intends on following, but she can't bear the thought of Eddie going back there alone.
"But I'd like to help. Is there anything I can do?"
She's not one to intrude, and she's already considered potentially becoming a hindrance despite her competence and good intentions. Sill, it can't hurt to ask.
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"If you'd rather head back to the carnival with me, then I'd appreciate if you watch my back while I look for my friend. And if we get separated, at least you know the way to possible safety now."
Eddie will give his assessment of risk, and his opinions on what people should do, but he won't fight when they decide for themselves on another path forward. And it's because of that that he'll turn back toward the chaos of the carnival with no protest as Rachel continues to follow.
Maybe they'll be able to avoid the roving demons still cavorting around. Most of all, Eddie is on the lookout of a glimpse of Sally, ears straining to catch sound from Gwen (he can't imagine that the baby has stopped crying in these circumstances... and he won't let himself picture anything worst case).
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"I've had some self-defense training," she reassures him as they make their way back toward the chaos. "I might be a bit rusty, but my reflexes still seem to know what to do. You can count on me, Eddie."
Her demeanor is firm, and her shoeless foot now stomps down with conviction along with her shod foot.
"Let's go find your friend."
The sounds from the carnival get louder as they inch closer, but she doesn't let them get to her. She's alert as she readies herself for whatever challenges lie ahead.
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The scene they return to is horrible -- people have been tossed into the Misfortune Teller's grasp, and staggered out of the tent already suffering horrible fates. The smell of sickness has joined that of blood and smoke, making Eddie shudder. They pass no less than three people in the final throes of being taken over by crystal growth (one screaming in fear at them not to touch him) -- and there is pained, gasping laughter coming from darkened alleys where the afflicted have tried to hide.
A woman suddenly lunges at them out of the darkness, howling like a banshee and trying to bite -- someone fallen under Mendel's thrall!
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"Thanks. I promise to return it to you."
It's a promise she knows she must keep, much like the weapon she holds, as the dreadful events at the carnival threaten to test her resolve.
Suddenly, a scream pierces the air, and Rachel spots a woman charging towards Eddie. Without a second thought, she positions herself between them just in time. The frenzied woman, chomping at the air between them, is surprisingly strong, and Rachel is forced backwards, inadvertently blocking the path of a stumbling and weakening man. He yawns widely and collapses forward, vanishing as he falls over where Rachel is positioned.
Through frustrated grunts and a racing pulse, Rachel attempts to fend off her new foe, the thought of using the dagger nudging at her mind.
But she's reluctant.
"This a person—agh—or a demon?!"
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"Even if people die here, they don't stay dead! That's the curse!" He has both hands engaged with pulling the woman back, otherwise he'd try to stab her himself. "She looks pretty human, though!"
Being a human doesn't mean you can't be a monster. But now's not the time to get philosophical about it. Their struggle is drawing attention, and some of that is demonic... whatever Rachel decides, the two of them are likely to be separated and whisked away to the nightmare carnival's games!
no subject
Still, Rachel can't do it. She can't bring herself to use the dagger. Instead, she delivers a knee strike to the abdomen of the diabolical being, eliciting a raspy shriek that causes Rachel to wince.
When she opens her eyes, she finds herself in the same position, arms crossed above her with Eddie's dagger in her hand, but her surroundings have transformed.
There is no longer a woman to fight off, and Eddie is gone, too.
Everywhere she looks, there are only mirrors.
Mirrors everywhere.
mind if I cut in? <3
On the other side of a nearby mirror, a robot stands nearby, his face a red visor and a blank, black pane of metal, his paintjob as green as sour apple-flavored candy. The giggling is coming from him; he's petting the hair of Rachel's reflection.
"Did you get lost, little mouse?" he asks the real Rachel gently. "You look new...it'll make that faker so mad if I scare you off first. Tell me, little mouse --" He wraps a hand around reflection-Rachel's chin -- "What's your opinion on the place of mechanicals in human society?"
Not at all 🩷
Her lucidity is encouraging, although her confusion deepens as she takes in the sight before her... a robot?
"What..." she says under her breath as she watches her hair being stroked, yet feels nothing. It's not a perfect relfection either, with its—her—head hung down and the opposite foot being shoeless.
The machine strokes her reflection's chin, and she swallows at the strange question, not wanting to provide a direct answer.
"What is this? An illusion?"
She tightens her grip on the dagger, using it more as a prop to bolster her appearance of threat rather than a weapon she intends to use.
...Although, there is potential to surprise herself.
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"Look," she says, raising the dagger. I don't know, she simply wants to say, but she stops to consider the question. Answering might not be a way out or even a solution, but it has to be better than remaining silent.
"They..." she gives an exaggerated shrug. Mechanicals in human society? She's no grease monkey, but when she thinks of mechanics and technology, she thinks usefulness.
"I suppose there'd be potential for a symbiotic relationship, if that's what you're asking."
So there.
cw: gore
His fingers sink into Rachel's neck, breaking through the skin -- and then he rips her head off with an ugly laugh, spraying the mirror with blood.
"This is what you're for!" he shouts, plunging his hand through the mirror to wave the severed head in Rachel's face. "All of you disgusting little flesh bags, lower than insecticons! You're not even worth keeping as slaves, you all deserve to be ground beneath our feet!"
cw: gore
Rachel screams and braces herself, but the blood splatter remains confined to the mirror. When she cautiously peeks through her arms, she finds her detached head dangling before her, eyes rolled back, and the grin faded but lingering.
Through sheer instinct, Rachel whirls around and bolts, running as fast as possible, with her horrified face following her at every corner. Spotting a deep turn in the maze, she takes a gamble, hoping it will lead to an escape, only to find herself at a dead-end.
In an unexpected twist of thoughts, Rachel begins to wish she really had been drugged. If this is reality, then what will become of her?
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"Careful!" he gasps, taken by surprise. "Careful, miss, are you okay?"
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The voice is gentler compared to the sinister tone she had just encountered, and it emanates no threat. Her inclination to see the good in others somehow always prevails, and it takes little time for her to consider that he may be facing a similar issue with the mirrors.
"No," she breathes, taking a moment to run a hand through her stringy hair. She glances up at the robotic face, not able to hide the blend of fear and resolve in her eyes.
"But I will be," she decides. She peers down at the dagger in her hand, which curiously has a smudge of blood on it. An image of the severed head suddenly flashes in her mind, but she winces it away just as quickly as it comes.
"There's something in these mirrors. Versions of us, I think..."
Screams from a distance interrupt, punctuating the otherwise ghostly silence. Another figure passes along the mirrors, not resembling her or the bot, chasing after something, or more likely, someone.
"We need to find a way out of here, and quickly."
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He gently puts a hand on her shoulder, trying to chivvy her along the hallway while keeping a safe distance from the mirrors on either side. "The exit's back this way, I'm pretty sure. I've been trying to get as many people out as I can, but either the hallways are rearranging themselves or something's interfering with my navigator...but you don't need to worry. I'll protect you."
"Watch your step!" the green First Aid calls, hurling a slab of some unidentifiable wet meat into his double's path. The red First Aid can't hold back a nauseated, horrified groan.
no subject
She nods to acknowledge him as they both turn to follow the narrow path. When the sudden presence of meat slapping on the ground obstructs their way and startles her, she is left nauseous from the sight and smell of it.
"I'd like to help..." she begins in a lower volume, her wide eyes focused on the unpleasant sight. "I might not be of much use within, but I'd like to assist in comforting those you manage to rescue. I'm Rach—"
The motor heard from earlier revs aggressively, disturbing what little moment of peace they had, and threatening them with another visit.
no subject
He yelps, horrified, when the mech in the mirror transforms and begins rushing at them, his engine growling like the howls of Unicron himself. He can't get far enough out of the mirrors to hit them, but that doesn't make the near-misses any less nerve-wracking -- and unlike the real First Aid, his alt-mode hasn't been shrunk to the size of a toy.
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"Look out!"
Rachel narrowly dodges an attempted strike, her focus shifting to her new companion as she keeps them from being separated.
"What's the next move, First Aid? You mentioned knowing the way out, yes?"
Unbeknownst to Rachel, a small cut mars her forehead. While not deeply concerning, she can't distinguish the drop of blood trickling down her face from a bead of sweat.
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(no subject)