June Event - Cukey-Scary [The Cucumber Festival]

[pumpkinhollow]

**Plain text version here.

CUKEY-SCARY

Come one, come all!

The long-awaited festival to enjoy vegetables and welcome in the summer months has finally arrived - and this time, completely uninhibited by curses!

Pumpkin Hollow's streets are bright and bustling, adorned with green ribbons, baskets of flowers, and freshly arranged shop stalls to market their goods to the festival-goers as they mill about the streets surrounding the Festival Green. Cheering crowds watch performers perched upon stages, jaunty music played by thoroughly energized bands fills the air, and the smell of freshly-cut cucumbers is carried on the breeze.

Welcome to the Cucumber Festival, a sorely-missed holiday held exclusively on Marrow Isle. It is a festival begun at the town's inception to encourage the newly-established farming community, which was rapidly embraced from then on. Many smaller-scale gardeners dedicate vast amounts of energy in joining farmers to make the festival possible, and this year is more abundant than ever, thanks to the efforts of the new arrivals taking up the farming mantles. The merriment sprawls all over the Festival Green, and even further into the town.

One question yet remains: where to begin?

Cucumber Celebrations Commence!

Copious Cucumber Cuisine

With the cucumber harvest more bountiful this year than it'd ever been, the booths have a wide assortment of offerings - cucumber chips, fried pickles, bowls of salad, breads with chunks of vegetable in them, fritters, among the wide tide of other culinary delights. If you can make it with a cucumber, these people have!

Almost as abundant as the attendees are, the stalls and booths set up with cucumber-centric meals are easily found. much of it is cheap, even free in many cases, and scattered with them are other booths peddling artisan goods.

Challenges of Chance and Cheer

As much as Hollowites enjoy their food, there's rarely an opportunity that they pass up to incorporate games or rides into festivities, and the Cucumber Festival has an extremely wide variety to offer!

The Whirling Wyvern is a ride that stands shortly behind a neat arrangement of picnic tables. Rope fences wind around the ride, giving it a safe distance from any bystanders, and the surrounding area is littered with flour bags, densely stuffed to offer padding.

Watching it even briefly makes it very clear why the padding is needed: the platform, raised about two feet off the ground in the middle, begins to spin its seated riders, rotating faster and faster until they topple, roll, and fall off the sides, into the padding below. People can often be heard nearby making bets with friends to see who can stay on the longest. (It's not a recommended ride for anyone who's been drinking!)

Bumpermobiles is another ride, operating on enchantment instead of electricity and a switch, that may look familiar to some of Pumpkin Hollow's residents from more modern times! Though they lack the distinctive roofed building in favor of a section of paved road closed off with wooden beams, the small carts of the bumpermobiles resemble automobiles of the current time, outfitted with wide-edges to brace the impact they'll inevitably have on one-another! Each one seats two, but are able to be driven on their own, if you'd prefer to focus your conversations on heckling your fellow driver.

Hot Air Balloons are set up not on the Green, but just outside of it, taking a spot just off to the side that's unoccupied by booths or frequent foot-traffic. Each ride carries a maximum of three, not counting the operator, and gives any rider an impressive view of marrow isle for thirty minutes.

The Carousel stands in the center of the Festival Green, chiming cheerful music from the pillar in the center. Horses are joined by the addition of shimmering unicorns, beaked pegasi, and colorfully painted pony-drawn carts (which are crafted to be seats, for those who cannot climb on one of the other mounts).

The Wheel of Chance is a vertical wheel, perched between artisan's booths, offering low-stake prizes for a small payment! 5 Brass allows you to spin the wheel, offering one of ten available prizes:

1. a cucumber, covered in batter and fried, on a stick.
2. a goldfish in a decorative bowl.
3. a pair of pants, with several varieties to choose from.
4. a deck of playing cards.
5. a fine leather-bound notebook.
6. a set of six shot glasses.
7. a bottle of wine.
8. a basket of assorted fruits.
9. a glass-blown animal native to Marrow Isle, palm-sized, in assorted species and colors.
10. 10 Brass. Double your money!

(For any concerned about the wellbeing of the fish: the person operating the wheel assures the health of these goldfish, and that the bowls are simply for festival distribution. They do note, however, that you'll be on the hook, no pun intended, to provide the new home for the fish.)

The Cucumber Festival's Raffle is one of the most coveted opportunities to spend a small sum of brass and win one of the many prizes donated by the community, with all contributions going into community services and upkeep.

Each ticket costs 20 Brass, and each person may purchase up to 5 tickets. There will be three drawings total, granting a small prize, a medium prize, and a grand prize to each winner. One person cannot win more than one prize; if the same person draws a second prize after their first, it will be re-rolled.

To purchase a raffle ticket, please reply to the Pumpkin Hollow mod account comment with RAFFLE TICKETS as the title, also linked here, stating how many tickets your character will be buying. On JUNE 14TH, ticket purchasing will be closed, and the prizes will be rolled!

The prizes are as follows:

1. 1st (small): a telescope, with elegant engravings in the metal, donated by Elias Coldwood.
2. 2nd (medium): a set of two enchanted tea puppies, one glass and one metal, donated by Neil West.
3. 3rd (grand prize): a basket-hilt sword, well-weighted, masterfully crafted, and delightfully ornate, donated by Dahlia Leeds.

Contestants Convene for Competition

Of course, what's a festival without a little bit of friendly competition! Over the week of celebrations, the Cucumber Festival hosts the following activities for any and all participants interested in joining in the fun.

The Cucumber Growing Competition is a celebration of the farmers who made all this possible, as well as a flexing of gardening prowess. Each cucumber is measured in weight, length, and color! The prize for the best cucumber in show is simply a ribbon, but among the Pumpkin Hollow farmers, it's quite a statement to have. Career farmers, hobby gardeners, and onlookers alike gather to see the town's farmers' handiwork!

The Cooking Competition follows directly after the Cucumber Growing Competition. While the larger of the vegetables don't make for very good foods, sacrificing flavor for size, the rest of the entries are cut up and used for a variety of dishes. Chefs of all varieties are encouraged to participate to show their culinary prowess!

The Great Turnip Smash-Off is a cheeky jab at the prior year's failed festival. Wielding any tools they like, including but not limited to one's hands themselves, each contestant is allotted three minutes to destroy as many turnips as they possibly can. The prize for the cucumber festival's first annual turnip slayer is a small trophy for bragging rights!

The Water Walk is a fun sport for all ages! Lined up in rows with metal spoons full of water, the participants must walk carefully to the end of the "racetrack" to a small glass of water, with a line denoted on the side at the middle. The first person to fill their glass to or above that mark wins!

The Variety Show occurs throughout the week, offering the stage to many people of assorted talents. The first day is booked up for magicians (sleight of hand, specifically - mages are politely requested to refrain from participation), and on the following Monday, a "feat of strength" competition will showcase the might of those strongest in Pumpkin Hollow! The other days are yet to be filled, and several festival attendants are waiting with clipboards to accept submissions. Many newcomers have talents they've never seen before, so new submissions of the musical, magical, or other remarkable talent alike are not only welcome, but strongly encouraged!

Carnival Complications

Of course, not all things can go entirely peacefully in Pumpkin Hollow's festivities, and the Cucumber Festival has never been exempt from this. Though the prior years' incident was far more disruptive to the festival's celebrations, several things begin to crop up over the span of the week.

Capricious Crashers

As the festival goes on, it seems that some poltergeists have seen fit to invite themselves to the party. Two games are affected, with varying results.

The Whack-a-Mole Game, during the first night, becomes the first item to start experiencing a mild haunting. Though the specters only make themselves known when the participant is alone, there's a distinct feeling of guilt that comes with each smack, not unlike stepping on a cat's tail without realizing it. Instead of the triumphant jingle that the machine lets out when the game is complete, a stark silence settles in, as though the entire festival has frozen in time. Only then does a whisper, no louder than a breeze, brush past your ear.

Rolling a D3, the spirits haunting the whack-a-mole machine will tell you the following:

1. a secret that isn't yours to have about someone in town.
2. a piece of gossip, a shocking recent happening that may or may not be getting around in whispers.
3. a lie, carefully crafted to impact the way you see one of your fellow townsfolk.

(Mod Note: the information given is always going to be about someone nearby. When tagging into someone's top-level with the Whack-a-Mole Game who's got secrets or gossip, provide a piece of information about your character that the spirits might've said! Additionally, feel free to request a piece of information about an NPC, major or minor. For a lie, anything goes. Have fun with it!)

The Candle-Shooting Game is the next to become haunted, though the haunting is significantly more straightforward. In an act of simple mischief, the flame will occasionally withstand blasts from the water gun that should have surely snuffed it, or the flame will go out just as you line your shot up. These spirits are aiming to ruin this particular game, but not your night.

Cards and Consequences

On the outskirts of the festival, there is a strange building set up. Just a small shack, decorated with celestial trappings and a mysterious air. Above the door, a sign painted black with gold lettering says "HOUSE OF CARDS". Is it a funhouse? A fortune teller? No one's sure who set it up. Perhaps another effort of Captain Tuttle or something.

There is a sign on the double doors that make up the entrance, which reads, "Admission is free, but you must enter in pairs." And true to its word, the doors will not open unless two different people take each door's handle. Otherwise it is definitively locked.

So, choose a companion and go explore! What's the worst that could happen? All you have to do is open the door.

| CONTENT WARNINGS: mild manipulation, unreality, snakes, possible character death. |

Comments

[goodweather]

Phil rubs at his neck a little awkwardly. He hadn't spoken with Tendi much, and she's... he hadn't seen her for a long time even before everything collapsed.

"I've thought about it, but I just--... there weren't really a lot of options before, and I'd been stuck with the same sixty or so people in the same place for a year back then. I hated the idea of drawing more attention to it. I still do, honestly. I'm not a fan of looking like a dollar store pirate, or, or some kind of Hollywood villain. With the patch and the suit and everything. It's just..."

He shakes his head. It sounds so stupid when he says it aloud, and yet.

"And every other option, like a bandanna or something, still sounds like it'll make me look like a clown. I don't know."

[notinflictthem]

Hawkeye winces a little sympathetically, rubs at his throat as he tries to find a gentle way to broach it.

"Look- I respect your intelligence too much to give you my usual version of this talk," which is a line he uses nearly every time he gives this talk in fact, "it's a big thing, right? And with the broadcasting and all it must make you worried about being able to get in front of the camera. I get all of that. But the human body- it's a fleshy miracle, yeah? Processes that boggle the mind all happening right under and behind our noses. And sometimes, for our own sake, we need to give those processes a little assistance in taking care of us."

Hawk pauses midway to acquire the cucumber fondue, handing Phil's over to him first. Each piece of cucumber has a little toothpick sticking out of it, and there's a generous smothering of cheese substance on all of them.

"You've gotta think about your quality of life. Everyone who starts on crutches or a cane or- hey, even glasses, all of it feels weird and goofy at first. But you can't look more handsome in pain than you can taking care of yourself. You don't have to make any decisions- I'm not giving you medical advice, just talking as a concerned citizen. Just... think about it, alright? There's no shame in giving yourself a little help."

cw very vague self harm reference

[goodweather]

The more Hawkeye talks, the more his gut twists. He's right, of course. Phil knew he was right before he even met the guy. He knew he was right the first time he realized it was his double vision that was giving him migraines. But it's one thing to think I should to yourself, and another thing to have someone else call you out on it, no matter how reasonable and gentle they're being, the shame of being caught in not making the smart decision. Not doing the right thing for yourself, because... just because. Because he cares so much about how he looks.

"I won't be able to be in front of the camera if I go home." There's no worry there, that's just fact. He's not fit for broadcast.

"Sure, yeah. I'll... I'll think about it." Phil fidgets with the toothpick in one of the little cubed 'cumbers. "Maybe a tailor will be able to come up with something that won't make me want to claw my face off."

[notinflictthem]

Yeah, of course this guy already knows. He can practically feel Phil's tail go between his legs- it's one thing to know you should do something and another to actually do it, especially when it's something embarrassing and not sensible. The guy's a scientist, of course he knows, he just can't.

"That's a pity- I think when the base material is this good, a patch shouldn't get in the way of you being on camera. I mean- I'd still have seen Bringing Up Baby a hundred times if Cary Grant only had one eye- or The Postman Always Rings Twice, if Lana Turner had one."

Hawk glances down at the cubed cucumbers and the still hot cheese substance on them, and makes a decision.

"And you look way better than both of-" he sticks a cube in his mouth, and immediately starts to hafsafahfhafshfa around the heat of the cheese, trying to toe a line between looking too put-upon and actually seeming to be in pain. Nothing makes you feel better than someone else embarrassing himself.

[goodweather]

His mouth tugs at the corners. He picks up one of his own cubecumbers, making sure to blow on it before he sticks it in his mouth.

When he's done chewing: "I'd probably get away with it if I had a glass eye, but I don't think it's a good idea to replace living tissue for vanity like that. Or, uh, I guess if I had a contact lens, assuming these claws don't follow me home, because I can't use those either if they do. But." He shrugs vaguely. "I don't know. It's up to execs."

[notinflictthem]

Well, it's not a laugh, but it's something.

"If you get home, then you'll have options for surgery too- back in my day they were making some ground on replacing the lens, who knows how advanced the surgery has gotten by your time. Course if you go back home with the wings you'll have to start telling people to be not afraid, and that might chew up your schedule."

He swallows the cucuber, pauses for a moment.

"Yeah, this isn't very good. I don't know who thought that was a good idea, but I don't think they should be let back in the kitchen."

[goodweather]

That last comment gets a little more of a kind-of-laugh out of him, mostly because he did have to masquerade as an angel once, and thankfully this has only had long-term consequences for one person that isn't himself.

"It's not just the cataract, though. I don't think we've gotten far enough to fix a pupil that's kind of vaguely shaped like Italy."

He spears another cumbercube anyway. "I'll eat yours if you won't. I'm in a snacking mood."

[notinflictthem]

"You never know, someone might make a breakthrough in your lifetime. Happens all the time, someone's always working on a condition or treatment- in the couple of years we've been at war, we went from having to amputate legs to being able to save them with an artery transplant."

He hands over his tray of cu(cumber)bes, and half-sings to the tune of Amore-

"And when the thing you use to see is shaped a little like Italy, that's traumatic iritis."

[goodweather]

He doesn't laugh. What he does do is grin, knit his brows, shut his eyes, and bow his head while his other hand goes up to his face and jets out a sigh.

"Jesus Christ."

[notinflictthem]

"No, but I know a guy who knows him if you want an autograph."

He's still got it.

[goodweather]

Phil punches him in the arm for that one. Riffing off of expletives is too easy. He would know, he was the dickhead that nobody liked to swear "fuck" around unless it was "fuck you," and even then.

He ushers them along away from the cucumber^2 stand so they aren't in the way. "I was meaning to ask--you're, uh, are you religious? I kept feeling like you weren't, but last time we talked you said 'God's perfect blank' twice and I remember you saying you had a priest."

[notinflictthem]

That one catches him a little off-guard, and he rubs his arm a little confused for a moment until Phil clarifies.

"Oh- when I say I have a priest, I mean I have a buddy who's a priest. Father Mulcahy, little mousy guy you might see around- can't miss him, he's the one with the big t necklace. Me- I'm a very principled agnostic, I spend every Sunday in a state of confusion."

Shakes his head, "just figures of speech anyway. Picked it up here and there. If I ever say something that doesn't make sense, someone else said it and it's not my fault."

[goodweather]

"Oh, him!" Phil brightens. "Hey, yeah, I know him. Darcy tells me he's doing Mass for them and that John Jay guy now. Religiously, I'm somewhere where you are, but Darcy's pretty devout, so it's... it's really nice to see them being fulfilled that way, y'know?"

Which is part of why he asked; if Hawkeye was too, that might be another point of connection for them. Anyway, not to make everything about his kid, so he pivots slightly.

"How'd you two become buddies, anyway?"

[notinflictthem]

"Must be good for Mulcahy too- uh, to answer your question, he was our camp chaplain. Not many Catholics in camp, I think the only regular attendee was Klinger, who mostly just wanted to put together a good church outfit. Always had the best fascinators- sometimes I had to ask if he was on his way to church or the Kentucky derby."

Hawk glances at some of the prizes as they walk down the way. He doesn't have a good arm, but maybe Radar would appreciate a replacement teddy?

"Sweet guy, though. Spent a lot of time in the operating room with us- had to be there to administer last rites, but he'd bring us sandwiches and juice and keep morale up where he could. Really easy to talk to. Kind of expected him to be holier-than-thou but no, he uh... understood the kind of stress we were under. John Jay is a buddy too- good guy. Used to be kinda squirrely, but he's come around a lot here."

[goodweather]

A sort of stern confusion crosses his face before realization hits.

"... Oh, he's your buddy buddy! I don't know the guy that well, so I didn't even realize. I thought you'd just met him abroad like the rest of us."

Except Phil met him on the ship, not here, which is... its own can of worms.

"You're probably really glad to have a familiar face around here, huh, especially someone as nice as him."

[notinflictthem]

"Mhm, stuck in the same foxhole for the last couple of years. There's a kid going around here- goes by Radar, looks about your kid's age- same story. Same mash unit, same time, same place, same station. He's also just swell, if you haven't met him. He uh- he works with Fever."

Hawk shoves his hands in his pants pockets, "good to see him though, yeah. I uh- heard he was with the rest of you on that ship. Glad he can finally catch a break now. Feels like I jumped the queue a little, I mean comparatively."

[goodweather]

"Yeah, he--uh, he was." ... Ahem.

"You know, I've seen pairs coming out of the same place here and there, but three is rare. You're lucky. Or not, considering how we got here, but it's nice not being alone." He turns away to look ahead. "I'm sure he could use the company, too. We had it pretty rough, and he's not different."

[notinflictthem]

"Hah- no, we're lucky. Ask either of the other two, here is better than where we were, even with the cover charge. I only hope we get luckier- get another couple of people from home who could use a break."

Hawk gestures for Phil to follow him a stall or two down, to one of the booths with a couple of teddy bears hanging up as prizes.

"I'm doing what I can for him. Did back home, too. That's just what you do for a friend. Speaking of, if I pay do you think you could knock a couple of bottles down? I have this old shoulder injury from my football days in college- y'know, comes and goes, and if I throw anything heavier than the towel in, it acts up."

And also, he's lazy and doesn't really want to exert himself.

"But uh- Radar had to leave his teddy behind in Korea, I think a replacement would really cheer him up."

[goodweather]

Sorry, Hawkeye, but Phil takes one look at you, with wrists like a dainty gazelle, arms he could wrap his whole hand around, and a hunch to get you on a detective's watchlist, and laughs. Good-naturedly, but he does. "You, college football? I would've thought you'd preferred to protect your hands. For fun, or do you mean you were on the team?"

He turns to look over the stall and the minigame and the teddies. They look like they're of good craft, so they're worth winning for the kid.

"I'll throw, but I just want you to be aware that you're asking the cyclops. The dog ate my depth perception."

[notinflictthem]

"Hey, I got through on a football scholarship!" he protests, laughing back, "you don't know how hard it was on my shoulder to forge those documents claiming I was a prodigy running back, I've never been the same since."

Hawk fishes in his pocket to pay for the game, and then leans up against the table as the attendant brings the balls around.

"Between the two of us, we're one functioning person. First bottles are at 12-o clock, just try and aim straight."

[goodweather]

Phil laughs louder. “God, I can’t believe you. How long did you last? Did you actually keep the scholarship?”

He shuts his bad eye and reels back. He has to swivel his head a few times and shift left to right slightly to make up for the lack of depth, but one clean lob and he’s got the bottles knocked off.

“It’s distance that’ll kill me, Hawk, not direction. My sight’s not that bad yet. I could read a clipboard from 50 yards off.”

[notinflictthem]

"Unfortunately I got a pretty bad sprain in my first week. Spent the rest of my college days benched as a reserve," he clicks his tongue in faux disappointment.

"I can't take all the credit, it was my Grandpa Sparky Pierce's idea. Course my first pick for the sport was golf, but there was no money in it. I might have actually played at all if it had been."

An impressed whistle, and Hawk glances up at Phil's face with a smile playing at his mouth.

"Nice arm, slugger. Remind me to be on your team if we end up bringing baseball to the Marrow Isles. Think you got another couple in you?"

[goodweather]

Phil takes the ball from the stall manager, tossing it in the air a few times.

"We're gonna win that bear, aren't we?"

As he's lining up the next shot, still bobbing slightly as he tries to get a bead on the distance, he asks, "First Hawkeye, now Sparky. Got a family history of nicknames. Did you tell me where yours came from?"

[notinflictthem]

"That'd be Last of the Mohicans. Only book my dad ever read. I've been Hawkeye since I was two months old. Even when I was in trouble, it was always Hawkeye first. If you think Sparky's good though, my dad's grandfather- my great-grandfather? Tombstone Pierce. Swear to God, that's what everyone called him."

A small up-nod with his chin in Phil's direction, "what about you- any nicknames? Figure Phil is pretty hard to get a nickname from."

[goodweather]

"Nothing except a few dumb ones I'd get around the station or from my wife. Nothing that was ever serious or stuck." He calls them 'dumb,' but his voice is perfectly lighthearted and affectionate. "Philliam, Philster, Philibuster... mmm, mostly Philliam."

He chucks another ball, and the bottles go down clean, although one takes its damn sweet time rolling off the pedestal.

"But nah, none of those were serious. It's just Phil."