ph_logs | [Cukefest] June Event

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[Cukefest] June Event - Vegging Out!

VEGGING OUT!

Come on out, the weather's vine!

Happy Summer, Pumpkin Hollow! May the blessings of Kora be ever at your shore and the summer sun bring Serranai’s gifts to life. The days are long and the nights are alive, and the cucumber harvest has arrived. That can only mean one thing--- it’s time for the annual cucumber festival!

2 years ago, in the year 16:53, the festival was cancelled due to all of the cucumbers being turned into turnips by a prankster witch who remains at large. As such, last year the Green King election from the bungled year was honored. But this year, Pumpkin Hollow has opened voting to its newer residents, and with an exciting turn-out! So join us for this beloved summer holiday, and enjoy cucumber-based delicacies, dance at a fancy ball, check out Pumpkin Hollow’s first-ever Pride parade, and honor our new Green King!

This event (ICly) is one week long, running from June 8th to June 14th. It is a brief reprieve from the spooky shenanigans of Pumpkin Hollow and is therefore horror free. Come get a slice of life--- and a few cucumbers too!

Gherkin this party started

Easy Being Green

The first day of the Cucumber Festival is always dedicated to the crowing of the Green King. Last year, this was Theodore “Teddy” Pennyburrow, the foxfolk man in charge of the island’s dormitory house for children without family. This year, it will be his honor to crown the new Green King.

Unlike the airy, floral affair that is Merrymeet, the Green King procession is rustic and raucous, taking place in the cobblestone streets under the fierce glow of the summer sun. Drums beat and cowbells jangle as the sidewalks crowd with cheering neighbors and the members of the Green Court are asked to strut their way to the town square, where each receives a green sash embroidered with vines.

Bringing up the rear are the two runners-up--- Father Mulcahy in third, and Radar O’Reilly in second. Each one is gifted with a pin for their sash (one bronze, one silver) with their names engraved and an enormous jar of artisanal pickles from Miann Farm in their choice of spiciness. Then, it’s time for the man of the hour to make his way forward.

A breeze whips up a fine cloak embroidered painstakingly with cucumber vines, a collar of cucumber leaves adorning his broad shoulders. He is all smiles, and what a winning smile it is. The town’s beloved baker, voted Handsome Offworlder of the Month by the Northwest Hollow Senior Ladies Knitter’s Club for three consecutive months! The man, the myth, the legend, with a name so nice you say it twice--- Max Maximum.

When he reaches Teddy, he has to bend down to receive his leafy golden crown and scepter, but he stands tall to face the crowd as their 16:55 Green King! Congratulations, Max!

From there, it’s time for the commencement party, which is held both inside and outside of the Oak & Iron. Loud and joyful music, dancing, and tons of great food are on the docket for tonight, along with a sacred ritual. It’s time to get the Green King pickled!

The rest of the Green Court is tasked with each buying Max a drink until he’s unable to continue (though Crichton is given permission to present Max with a glass of pickle juice if he chooses). It’s up to Max to earn the right to graduate from Green King to the coveted rank of Pickle King. How much can our fearless leader handle? Can he hold his liquor well enough to beat Archie Brenning’s record? The night is young--- let's find out!

Barrel of Laughs

Once the first day of the festival is out of the way, it’s all fun and games--- literally! There’s a ton of carnival games, tests of strength, cooking contests for pickle-related dishes, and even a contest for biggest cucumber. There’s also some rides, some magically powered and some kinetically powered, as well as “dragon rides” that allow townsfolk to ride on the back of a red, flying leviathan around the island! (It’s just Inspekta in an enormous dragon mask, but he’s hamming it up.)

As with last year, there will be a raffle--- this year hosted by Calloway’s Curios, and with a very interesting selection of items.

Third prize is a Talking Water Companion. An apparatus worn on one's back that carries a substantial tank of water that it can expel for various uses. The nozzle also talks for some reason. Don't worry, it's friendly. Probably.
Second prize is a Bicolor Teleportation Circle Cannon. Using one blue magical ring and one orange one, it can be used to designate the entry points of a makeshift teleportation circle, apparently by clinging to the celestial and otherworldly magic lingering on surfaces around town. Can only be used on flat surfaces with enough area to allow entry to an average-sized person standing upright. Use with caution.
And first prize is a Triangle of True Sight. A teeny tiny triangular arcane construct worn on the ear. The wearer can use it to see monsters through solid surfaces and track their movements, spot otherwise hard to see tracks from animals and people, access a map of the island and receive guidance to specific locations, and translate languages---- including R'lyeah. It also includes a health monitor that can track your heart rate and count your steps. Fancy!
The consolation prize, given to all players who do not win a major prize, is a Chatty Rectangle, which is a little red object with a panel that opens on the front, which can tell them factoids about the island's Pokemon residents. Calloway has a whole box of them. Please get rid of them. (More will be available for purchase after the festival ends as well.)

Tickets this year have a significant price hike, because of course they do. They are each going for a whopping 300 Brass. Despite Calloway’s protests, Town Hall has asked that the purchase be limited to 5 tickets per person still, in the interest of fairness. If you'd like to purchase any, please use the "RAFFLE TICKETS" thread below to do so!

A Dill-ightful Array of Colors

For reasons some of you may be familiar with, Pumpkin Hollowites tend to be a bit dubious about the idea of parades. So when the idea of a Queer Pride parade was pitched to Town Hall, it was met with no small amount of side-eye from the locals. However, after a thorough explanation of the tradition and its significance, the event was approved wholeheartedly!

On the Wednesday of the festival week, the morning schedule features a parade of brightly colored horse-drawn floats, beautiful men wearing very little clothing, muscular women in heavy knight’s armor, androgynous people in fantastical clothing, and people of all genders clad in symbolic color palettes or different flavors of drag. It’s a splendid display that offworlders and locals enjoy, and the parade leads to the Greymare Library lawn, just off of the main area of the Cucumber Festival that is designated for Pride-specific booths and activities.

Gerry Keay will be hosting a repeat of his popular seminar, “Gay Shit 101”, and various speakers will also be asked to share speeches, performances, art, and poetry about their experience with sexuality and gender. Drag shows will be held on a small stage, the lady-knights will be sparring on a section of lawn for entertainment, and booths will be selling special craft pieces, clothing, and street food themed around the event. This festival will run alongside the main event from Wednesday to Friday, but will close on Saturday to allow the folks running it to attend the closing festivities of the Cucumber Festival.

Town Hall would like to extend a huge shout-out to Pinhole Printing and Binding, the Velvet, Ambrosia, and Silk brothel, and the Bizzyboys for helping to sponsor and organize the event! Pumpkin Hollow is excited to incorporate this celebration of identity and expression into their summer traditions going forward!

A Slice of the High Life

On Saturday, it comes time for the closing ceremonies. Many of the food and game booths are still open in the main area of the festival for the morning and early afternoon, but they close up early to prepare for one final event.

You see, Pumpkin Hollow’s last major celebration was for Merrymeet back in February. The normally delightful spring cotillion was interrupted by Efrain himself, preventing people from fully enjoying the party for the second year in a row. To make up for lost dancing time, this year’s closing celebration of the Cucumber Festival will feature an indoor-outdoor fancy dress party in Town Hall and in the plaza.

As before, if you would like a custom outfit for the occasion, you will need to foot the bill. However, if you aren’t able to pay for one, there will be 50B rentals available, with one catch---- everything that is available for this offer is in a shade of green, since the clothes made for this purpose are made of excess fabric from the festival decorations. Seems like Yorick, in a distracted state after his breakup from Mayor Poe, ordered double the amount needed, and Town Hall is very much hoping that the rentals will help make up for some of the lost budget.

As usual, there will be an impressive array of food (much of which will still be cucumber-based), plenty of music, and good times with friends! Perhaps a little interpersonal drama for later gossip as well? Time will tell! Let’s end the Cucumber Festival with a bang!

Speaking of bangs, once the party ends, there will be fireworks lit outside, so grab a seat on the Festival Green for a romantic evening or grab a complimentary potion of Deafen on your way home for a good night’s sleep. Happy Cukefest!

| CONTENT WARNINGS: alcohol use |

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He startles lightly, turning to see her. Ah, he doesn't recognize this one.

"Oh! Ah, hello, uh... well, I think it's quite lovely. I admit I'm still wrapping my head around most of it. This sort of thing is, ah, not spoken of, where I come from. But I have never shied from learning more about my fellow man. I find enlightening as well as... hm. Encouraging?"

He pauses. Then puts out a hand. "I'm sorry, I don't think we've met. I'm Francis John P. Mulcahy, though most people just call me by the last name."

Edited 2025-06-11 07:30 (UTC)

"It's always nice to meet people who have an open mind, especially when they seek understanding for their own benefit, not just that of others."

She gently takes his hand.

"I know who you are, but you may call me Amarantha."

It is a credit to her demeanor and person that the statement 'I know who you are' doesn't immediately give him the heebie jeebies.

"Miss Amarantha," he repeats, hoping to commit it to memory. It's lacking these days, but still worth a shot.

"If I may ask, what reason is out there that you know of me before I've met you? Nothing bad, I hope." He chuckles quietly and folds his hands in front of him.

"Nothing bad."

She looks back out over the colorful crowd.

"You are the Hierophant, though I suspect the card is nearing reverse. Such things are never set in stone, but change can be for the better."

… Huh.

“‘Hierophant’ is a rather fancy title for a simple priest. Though I’m afraid I’m not sure what you mean by…”

… no, didn’t he read that word recently? What it is that she’s saying about a card that rings a bell?—

“… Ah—you don’t happen to be fond of paper birds, are you?”

Amarantha smiles.

"I like butterflies too. They are all so colorful, just like this celebration."

“I can’t help but agree.”

Butterflies are, after all, one of the symbols of Christ—and a sign of a certain spirit that’s come to him, here and there.

“But when you speak of the card ‘nearing reverse…’ what do you mean?”

"The Hierophant is a man of tradition, someone who holds fast to rules, and in your case, faith, but you can have faith and be yourself at the same time. Don't let tradition hold you back."

Amarantha taps the feather to her lips.

"I sense more though, a deep trauma and fear, holding to other rules, something from the past still plagues you. You are so close to the answer, to breaking free of it all."

… What a very bold answer. Well, he supposes he did ask for it.

“Ah, well… I hold onto my ancestral faith, of course, but as the Blessed John Henry Newman said, ‘to live is to change; and to be perfect is to have changed often. But, er… uh. May I get any clarification on those fears? There’s quite a few of them.”

Amarantha tips her head, the feather still against her lips.

"Would you like a reading?"

He pauses, considering.

(Some clergy would call this heresy. As he likes to think of it, he would not have anyone shield his eyes from the glory of His works.)

"If you wouldn't mind?"

Her pleasant laugh rings softly in his ears and she beckons to him to follow, leading him into a colorful tent. The space is small, just enough room for a small table and two chairs and a little cabinet. The air smells sweet, like incense, there's a tarot deck on the table, along with a crystal ball. Everything appears as it typically would for a fortune teller.

"Take a seat."

What a strange and lovely place. He looks around curiously, his gaze lingering on one thing to the next as he takes it all in. A fortune teller. In this place, such things could be very true and so much more fantastic than on Earth. How exciting.

He sits down at one side, folding his hands in his lap, waiting for further instruction.

Amarantha takes a seat opposite him, lifting a hand to hover it first over the tarot deck then over the glassy ball sitting on the small stand between them. She hums a moment, then seems to settle on the crystal ball.

"A warning first," she says, her gaze searching his. "Everything you have been, are, and will be is about to be laid bare, you may stop me at anytime, but what is seen cannot then be unseen. Do you still wish to have a reading?"

That stops him hard.

He's no little matchstick girl, especially compared to many here, but his life has hardly been tulips and sunshine either. The fact that much of it isn't something he can even really talk about in polite conversation is a sign if he ever saw one.

"... In that case, I do have some questions. When you say 'everything I have been, am, and will be'--is that distinct from your reading one's past, present, and future?"

Amarantha tips her head, her expression giving nothing away.

"What else could it mean?"

He pauses to consider.

“How much beyond my own self would be seen?”

"You mean how far into your future?"

"N-no... I mean, I suppose that's part of it."

On second thought, maybe this isn't really the question to ask. But the other one...

"I also... well. Regardless of whether you're capable of stomaching it or not, I should warn you that neither my past nor my present has been particularly happy. I'm a veteran, for one thing. There have been some very aggressive forces in my life."

Amarantha allows him to work through his thoughts, and to explain them.

"This is what I do, Father Mulcahy, nothing I see will be of consequence to me, only to you."

"Are you sure?" he urges. "I don't doubt you necessarily, but I worked at an army hospital. Even observing most of the operations there had a habit of turning stomachs, and I assisted many. Unless that isn't necessarily the sort of thing that is brought to your sight."

And does he really want to be doing this almost hubristic act, today of all days during such joyous celebration, when his own life brings him to his knees on the regular?

... (When else is he going to?)

Amarantha smiles warmly, but shakes her head.

"Kind of you to worry, but I am not what you think I am."

She places her hand on the crystal ball, closing her eyes for a moment.

"Are you ready?"

Well, aren't both of those statements so lovingly foreboding.

The thing is that he's far in over his head. He knows that. He's reconsidered a lot of beliefs and doctrines ever since God's universe broke wide open and proved itself a far more brilliant and colorful work than anyone from his Earth could have ever imagined it to be. Those scholars could not have accounted for something like this, and every step of the way has been flying blind. And not only has he been flying blind, but he has been wrung out and bled completely dry of all he had to give. Only now has he had any time to breathe and think. She asks if he's ready. A year and three months is not enough to be ready.

And who knows--maybe this future telling stuff will be about as good as a fortune cookie. But Amarantha sought him out. If this is more like he expects it to be, knowing what people on this island are capable of... well, he's never going to be ready.

"Yes," he says.

Amarantha nods, places her other hand on the crystal ball and takes a deep breath. The air inside the tent grows cold as images from Mulcahy's past flash through the crystal and his mind, and somehow, he knows that Amarantha is seeing everything he does.

"The past."

A large family, his father yelling, sharing a bed with his brothers, boxing with his dad, his sister, Catherine, biting his toe. Receiving letters from her during the war. His escapades with the others during the war, helping the Amerasian infant, administering rites to the fallen, helping in the medical tents, gathering items from the black market to help his friends and charges. On and on it goes.

Then it shifts to the Eterna, the hell he experienced both at the hands of the Captain and under Number 2. The arrival of the outsiders who brought it all crashing down, and his return to that fated vessel...seemingly softly narrated by the woman in front of him.

There is a slight pause in the dense memories.

A small question.

If he says nothing she will continue.

Edited 2025-06-26 04:17 (UTC)

Memories fly past, a snaking recollection of everything he'd ever seen in his life, a thing that some days has felt like it has lasted far beyond its stay. Some are nostalgic, some are sour, some gently arrest his breathing--but with the frame of a crystal ball, and the soft narration over it by Amarantha, the feeling of them has far less teeth. Not like when he's caught reminiscing on his own.

There is a pause.

Mulcahy says nothing, and allows her to go on.

[Cukefest] June Event - Vegging Out!

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