The Haunted House Attraction

[Pearl Dragon]

After meditating most of the day away, Bruse roamed his hotel until sundown.  The sun set relatively late, casting the long, desolate hallways into deep shadow.  Floating down through the floors, Bruse landed silently in the lobby.  He made a nervous glance towards the door to the cellar, remembering the troubling events that happened down there recently.  His attention was quickly stolen away though as the sound of a fluttering piece of paper caught his attention.  It came from the direction of the front doors, the sound probably traveling through the broken windows nearby.  A white flyer indeed shivered in the soft winds outside, it's other end poking through the door to the inside.  Bruse focused some energy into his paw and grasped at the paper, which at first seemed untouched but then was pulled through the space and down onto the floor boards, open for all to see.

It was an invitation.  To a festival?  And it addressed him!  Well, sort of, it was addressed to the resident supernatural.
It was signed by the WDSA as well, an organization that Bruse was both leery and cautious about after the cellar incident.  But the flyer itself was incredibly inviting and friendly towards someone like the spirit, and even seemed to hint that it would accommodate beings such as Bruse.

Feeling hesitant at first, Bruse thought for a moment about disregarding the invite.  But then, perhaps it wouldn't harm much to at least pay a visit.
And with that, Bruse floated up and out of the hotel.

A short while later, Bruse drifted noiselessly down in the center of the lake.  He could see the lights and sounds of the festivities near the shore, but still his hesitation held him on the dark, quiet waters.
What harm could it bring?  I am of sound mind now. He tried to reassure himself.
Slowly, he began to walk, his feet not seeming to touch the water.  Not a single footfall even so much as rippled it's surface.
The rides that rose up in the busiest part of the festival peeked his interest first.  And one in particular more so than the rest.  As he drew closer, he could see it was the darkest looking ride of all the bright and flashing lights and colors of the rides around it.  It's front was painted black and red, with toothy, fanged grins and monstrous looking beast props yawning in silent roars down at the crowd below.  Some of the painted decorations even showed wispy, ghost-like figures.  It was, in the human's world, a "haunted house attraction".  But to Bruse, it was a tempting invitation to a possible dinner.  Did such a place really contain those things?  Was this some sort of advertisement by the WDSA made to appeal to someone like Bruse?  He wavered uncertainly on the water.  He was much closer now, and he could hear the voices of the festival goers and the odd, playful tunes of the festival games.  His anxious thoughts held him in place, but the idea of so many potential meals kept confined in one place was certainly tempting.  Gradually, he pushed himself to move forward and made his way towards the ride.

[Pearl Dragon]

[Continuing this thread a little, while waiting for any potential participants Feel free anyone who wants to jump in.  Just trying to get things a little more progressed so this thread has some sort of plot going]


Once on land, Bruse found he had to navigate through the crowds of festival goers to find his way to the attraction he had spotted from the lake.  There seemed to be a smaller amount of the public here than he had thought, and once he got a good look around, he noticed that most were very peculiar looking.  In fact, he realized this festival must only contain the population of Wathais that wasn't in fact a normal human, but in some way supernatural.  Where most just walked through him without a second glance as usual, a few actually stopped in their tracks before passing through him and looked up into his eyes.  They stared with looks of fascination and then continued on, chatting excitedly to their friends who shrugged, having not been able to see the spirit like they could.

Bruse was shocked at the courtesy these individuals had of going around him instead of walking through him.  Some even said a polite hello as they gave him a wide berth, their eyes giving him a nervous look most likely due to his size and dark appearance.

He finally made it to the Haunted House attraction and began to approach it when a long fingered hand was held up just in front of his face.  At first he made to pass by without a second glance when suddenly his front actually bumped into the hand.  A feeling of shock stopped him immediately and he looked down at the skinny, older looking man dressed like a butler from the 1900's.  Even his garb looked genuinely antique, hanging loosely around the corners of his thin frame. "Hooooold et righ' ther, sunny!" The man said, tilting his head up at the spirit.  His features were knobbly looking with one eye goggling up at the spirit and a glass monocle covering the other eye, reflecting some of the colorful lights from it's surface. He grabbed a measuring stick that stood only about 4 feet from the ground and put it next to Bruse's right leg. It barely even made it past Bruse's elbow. "Errrrrhmmmmm..........YE.  Y'ur old eh'nuf!  And jus' ovur the height limit!"    Bruse looked puzzled down at the man, completely at a loss for words.

"WELL?!?  What'cher waitin' fer? Git goin'!" The man said and actually gave a quick, sharp pat on Bruse's hind quarters, pushing the spirit through the large oak double doors leading into the attraction. "Knock 'em DEAD, sunny! EhHEH HEHEH!"

After the cackling man had him inside, the doors closed swiftly behind him with an audible SLAM! which Bruse didn't even flinch at and left him alone in the dark of the house's "Lobby" area.  The whole place looked old, but for the most part, it seemed un-authentic somehow.  More of the decor in and around the room had fake, foam monsters standing in corners and hanging from the ceiling, looking down at the would-be patrons with frozen, hungry snarls. From there, an obvious path led through the area he was in and through a large door (large enough even for Bruse) that went into the next scene of the attraction.  Bruse stood, confused and perplexed at what had just happened.  That man could touch him.  He could actually, physically touch him!  Only other spirits could interact with Bruse like that, at least on the metaphysical plane, but that man was most definitely, fully physical!  Walking around, Bruse tried to explore the room he was in, at least to try and figure out for sure if the monsters in the shadows were actually fake, and not the perfect opportunity for a quick bite to eat.  But, they didn't move or react when Bruse approached them, making Bruse sigh slightly in disappointment.  He turned back to the center of the room, and came face to face with a random customer who had just entered through the doors.  The doors SLAMMED! shut again, and the person screamed, pushing their hands out at Bruse and connecting their shove with Bruse's shoulder. He stumbled sideways, despite his size, more out of amazement than actually being pushed, and watched as the random person (who again seemed a bit peculiar) ran giggling and squealing through the next scene.  Bruse then realized the truth of what was actually happening.  And he wasn't yet sure if he really liked it... 

[MP]

The entrance rang with the hollow sounds of footsteps as the little group made its way into the first hallway. The old woman marched on at once, tinny roars and moans marking her progress as she passed rubbery dummies and painted horrors. Sarkany fell behind at the entrance, unsure of what he was looking at. He glanced questioningly to his bearded companion, who looked unlikely to be any sort of help.

A sudden yell brought his head snapping around to the back of the room. But he relaxed slightly when he realized it was not a scream of fear, but of infuriated relish.

"That'll teach you to sneak up on me! Want my purse, eh? Here-" the woman hollered in a squeaky war cry, and walloped the little balding man over the head once more.

The little man backed away, glasses askew, spluttering about some sort of volunteer work and luminescing shamefacedly. Sarkany regarded the man with interest, noting the faint transparency of his form. He shrugged, part in resigned confusion and part in apology for his kidnapper. Then he followed the woman as she stomped huffing into the next room. Kidnapper or not, he should probably keep an eye on her. Elderly humans never seemed to handle exertion well. He'd followed her halfway into the next mazelike room when it occurred to him that the bearded one had fallen behind. He turned back, meaning to call back to him. The words never left his mouth.

There was another yell - a strangled sound of shock and terror as Sarkany lurched back against the wall, white-knuckled and ashen. It was not the fear of the gigantic equine shape regarding him, but the withered shape with a face like static that held him frozen. The featureless thing writhed with whispers, her every movement stirring the faint tether linking them together. Sarkany glared down at the thread, throat working soundlessly. And that's when he saw it - not one, but two wispy threads. He traced them back and then past the blurred figure, and noticed the second shape behind her for the first time.

It was a man, hollow-eyed and baby-faced, and he stared wordlessly from behind the faceless girl. He, too, seemed oddly familiar. Sarkany had never seen the man before in his life.

"No," he managed hoarsely. And then stronger, a snarl. "NO. We're not doing this. Get out - all of you, get out."

Sarkany was backing up now, threads stretching and pulling after him as he moved. His hand moved unconsciously to his chest as if to tear them out, though his fingers found nothing there.

"GET OUT," he roared at them, but he broke off suddenly as his back met something huge and solid. He whirled as if on an enemy, but it was only the equine beast, eyes fixed on him like all the rest. Sarkany's shoulders slumped then, the fight seeming to go out of him.

"And you?" he asked it wearily. "What do you want?"

[Pearl Dragon]

After his encounter with the startled, giggling customer, Bruse stood in the silent darkness, once again alone in the entrance of the attraction. Once the shock of his current situation began to subside, he slowly urged himself to move forward to follow the path leading into the next few scenes.

A sharp "PSSST" hissed at him from a dark crevice. "Scare them!" a random ghost figure said and disappeared quickly into the room he'd just come from. There was a cry, some commotion, and the ghostly figure disappeared again grumbling and rubbing the top of his head. Bruse had barely enough time to register the request made by the random resident spirit when a man and an older woman entered the room. The man stopped cold in his tracks and looked off at two other ghostly figures that now seemed much more solid than they probably should have. A thin, thread-like substance connecting them to the man.

Bruse's attention was immediately on the whispering woman, as she was the same one from the forest, where he'd come across Marchelute in the bear trap. And as the man began to yell and shout with intense rage, Bruse recognised him too.

The man backed away from the two other spirits and bumped into the front of Bruse's form so that when he wheeled around, they were face to face. "And you? What do you want?"
Bruse's eyes widened a bit at the question. From the way he'd spun around at the larger spirit, he almost seemed ready for a fight before relaxing a little.

Bruse lifted a paw and pressed a single claw to the man's chest. "You were the beast from the forest. The man with the golden eyes who helped Marchelute." Bruse answered, his voice surprisingly audible and clear with a deep booming quality. He also risked a glance towards the old woman and then to the two shades.

[MP]

So the beast recognized him. Sarkany folded his arms and stared back into the beady set of eyes, unimpressed by the obvious statement. Any normal curiosity or friendliness he might have felt was overshadowed by the strain of the whispering figure over his shoulder.

"I was," he agreed. "And what of it?"

Then, in a sharper tone as the creature's eyes lifted to stare over his shoulder, "Don't look at her."

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Thought you would've learned the first time. Just leave her be, alright?"

She was not easy to ignore. Her dim figure was nearly at the creature's feet. That was always how it was - she never seemed to move anywhere. She was simply there. But this time, she was not alone. Her hand was on the young man's shoulder, almost supportively, as she pushed the shade towards the hulking beast.

Sarkany averted his eyes at once, but the young man stepped forward, looking shy and anxious as a child.

"I don't want to be a bother to anyone," he whispered to the beast before him. "Let me stay. Just for tonight. She-" and the hazy figure seemed to sharpen at his words, "she said I could. She said it'd be alright."

[Pearl Dragon]

The man spoke sharply as Bruse's gaze fell on the other shades. He looked back at the man, who was now looking quite strained and tired. "Don't look at her. Thought you would've learned the first time. Just leave her be, alright?"



Bruse stared silently down at him, unsure but remembering the incident from the woods when he last tried to interact with the woman shade. The emotions she had cycled through him at the moment he shared energy with her. The strange stand off he'd had with the beast afterwards, and then the quiet sadness that followed.



"I remember." He said, nodding. "I apologize. I suspect this is a burden for you, I do not wish to make it worse. Is she-...it....a curse?" He then noticed the other shade approaching him.



Bruse risked a glance downwards and saw the hazy young man looking up at him sheepishly.

"I don't want to be a bother to anyone," he whispered to the beast before him. "Let me stay. Just for tonight. She-..she said I could. She said it'd be alright."



The larger spirit still stood, uncertain of the meaning for the request. Did the young man think Bruse was in charge of the place they were in, or did it mean the mortal man they were attached to? "Little one. I am unsure of what you mean. Where did you come from?"  And then he glanced at the mortal.  "Also, I do not recall your name, forgive me.  I am Bruse.  I would like to help if I can.  Lost spirits are..common.  Unfortunately."

[MP]

Sarkany was still staring carefully away, examining the painted walls and cutout attractions. It all looked so fake once you'd got a proper look at it. The only authentic things here were the - no. No, think about something else, he reminded himself as Bruse addressed him.

"Is she-...it....a curse?"

Those fake cobwebs were fascinating. Fascinatingly bad. It looked as though someone had dropped their cotton candy on the table.

"It's best not to mention her either," he said offhandedly, examining the stuff as if it were the most amazing thing in the world. "And..." His hand stiffened for an instant as, when he swept back the fake cobwebs, Her blank face reflected at him from the mirrored surface of the table. "And I don't know," he admitted, voice dropping.

The man's shade was more forthcoming, but hardly more helpful.

"We come every year," he was whispering, reaching out a supplicating hand to Bruse. "When the fireworks start. I want to stay. She said - she said -"

"-and SHE said they're too creepy! Can you believe that?" the old woman squeaked a laugh. She clutched at Sarkany's arm as she sighted Bruse. "Tommy, you found a big one! What is it? Some kind of buffalo?"

She shuffled closer, squinting at the massive form and reaching out a hand to pat the giant flank. Her prisoner followed helplessly along, staring up at Bruse as though daring him to laugh.

"Sarkany," he corrected her - Bruse - anyone. "It's Sarkany."

[Pearl Dragon]

Bruse jumped a little as the older woman came out of nowhere, patting his flank and pulling a sullen Sarkany along with her.

"Buffalo?" He murmured, unsure of what the woman meant, but her cheery attitude helped lighten the mood a bit and Bruse didn't mind that one bit. It was strange though, how she clung to Sarkany and pulled him along, calling him Tommy. Bruse gave a small nod of understanding, he'd do his best to help with their problems one at a time.

On a whim, Bruse turned to the shade of the young man, who looked to have been in his late teens, maybe early adulthood when he died. "Your name isn't Tommy, is it?" He asked, noting the curious shade's reaching hand. Bruse reached out too and wrapped as enormous paw around the man's arm, even up to the elbow. He held him in place, pulling him closer a bit so as to get the shades attention on his question.

[MP]

As Bruse's paw closed over his arm, the spirit looked up. A shy smile, slow and flickering, spread across his features at the sound of the name. Then his eyes turned to Sarkany, who was determinedly ignoring both the unwanted name and the ghosts as he attempted to move away. The smile faded.

"You won't tell her, will you?" he said quietly, twining the tether about his fingers like a sheepish child. "I was supposed to meet her. And she's been so excited."

"It doesn't matter what you tell her."

The shade's soft voice was interrupted by another. Where his had been clear and warm, this voice trailed with whispers, as flat and colorless as water. The speaker turned to the living pair, and though the face was warped as though by static, something like hunger seemed to be etched there.

"She's not ready. And he's not ready," it said. "They don't want to hear." And it lapsed again into watchful stillness.

To all appearances, this was true. Sarkany betrayed no twitch or expression indicating that he had even heard the thing. He simply turned, stone-faced, and guided his unwanted charge back the way they had come as his nerve broke. It was only when he reached the safety of the entrance that he stopped. He sagged against the wall, face in his hands as he tried to drive that sound - that maddening tangle of whispers and anger and grief - from his mind.

"Tommy, you're so pale," reprimanded a thin voice. Sarkany jerked back as his hands were drawn away and a gnarled hand was placed on his forehead. What was the crazy human doing now?

"And too thin," she was reprimanding, oblivious to his discomfort. "They don't feed you well enough - someone ought to complain." She glanced around with ferocious indignation, and then brightened suddenly. "Why don't you sit down? I'll get us something, and we can explore when you're feeling better."

Sarkany watched the hawkish woman scurry off with a dull stare, too frustrated to even bother being bewildered. He had half a mind to shift right here and fly away - to the mountains, somewhere secluded and quiet and ghost-free. But would that get rid of the new addition? He grasped once, uselessly, at the second tether. It remained firmly stuck.

[Pearl Dragon]

The boyish shade looked embarrassed at the old woman fussing over Sarkany.  The other shade, standing quiet now, watching the whole ordeal, showed no sign if any towards Sarkany's discomfort.

Bruse took a moment to think.  The living and the dead both did in fact seem in denial and unwilling to face the fact that they needed to move on.  Poor Sarkany was caught in the middle, a plaything for both to use as a substitute to allow for their past, traditional festivities to play out as they always have been.  Bruse gave a stern look at the boy.  "This...is not good behavior.  This may lead to repetitive behavior."  He wasn't sure how best to explain the circumstances to the new spirit.  If his behavior continued into other years, he'd end up attached to this festival.  A residual prisoner with no other thoughts than repeating this moment of his life over and over.  Though the idea would seem nice to some, you could become lost forever in it, unable to find your way to the other side.

Bruse placed a comforting paw on the young shade's shoulder.  "We will continue.  For now.  But you must promise me, try to connect with her as we go.  Take Sarkany's place from time to time if you can.  And ignore the other one that led you here."  He did not dare look at her for Sarkany's sake, but his eyes became hooded in appearance, almost threatening as he said this.  

"Sarkany.  I know you're tired.  We must try to find a way to release this one.  To relieve you of your new burden.  Otherwise he may remain connected to you or this place forever, and not be able to cross over."  Bruse walked over and leaned over the slumped man.  "I will do my best to protect you.  If the other gets too strong...I can...drain her.  I'm not sure what that would do to you though, so be forewarned."

[MP]

Sarkany ignored the young shade as Bruse spoke to it - had decided to ignore them all, as he should have done from the beginning. Nothing good came of consorting with spirits. It wasn't natural. They belonged to a world he couldn't see or sense, and that was how it should stay.

His resolution was short-lived when he heard the spirit's suggestion: "Take Sarkany's place from time to time if you can."

The yellow eyes shot up, glaring defiance. "Excuse me?" he said coldly, tensing as if expecting the spirit to lunge at him. But any further retort was interrupted by the spirit.

"I know. Thank you," The pale form smiled shyly, putting a hand to Bruse's side. "We've been coming every year. For a long time now. I just...want tonight."

Sarkany closed his eyes and turned to leave. The shadow was there beside him. She was always there. Together they moved toward the exit. But Bruse's words, the promise of protection, stopped him short. Sarkany hesitated, the shadow on one side, Bruse on the other. He turned and stared searchingly at the hulking form.

"I don't trust you," he said at last. "I've only heard Her speak once before." The shadow seemed to flare and sharpen at the words. "You make it worse. Stronger. If-"

But the rest of his words were lost to the sound of a cry and the crackling patter of wrappers spilling. Sarkany turned in time to see a shrieking group of fairgoers jostle past a wrinkled little figure, sending her stumbling. He stepped quickly through the crowd to where the woman fumbled for pretzels, helping her carefully to her feet as the ghostly voices and tinny roars of the Haunted House faded from his ears.

[Pearl Dragon]

Bruse nodded at the young phantom, and then went to follow Sarkany as he made to leave. With a sideways glance, Sarkany added, "I don't trust you."



"I know." Bruse said, already aware and accepting of Sarkany's dark mood. He couldn't blame him, with the burden of the whispering one. Bruse had seen the strain and gradual oppression such curses and clinging spirits can put on the living. This one was still a mystery, but Bruse hoped he might help to solve it in due time.



"I've only heard Her speak once before." Sarkany continued, making the whispering shade flare at the mention of her, "You make it worse. Stronger. If-"



And the cry broke the conversation. Somewhere outside, followed by the sound of falling aluminum-wrapped food. Sarkany broke into a brisk walking pace, followed closely by the young phantom. "Mom!" Tommy cried after her, rushing past the rest to her aid. But as the phantom's hands came down, they lost their tangibility, slipping through the old woman's arms. The useless ghost's hands and arms were suddenly whisped aside as Sarkany plunged his own hands down to the fallen woman, helping her gently to her feet. Bruse came to the door of the Haunted House, his form already fading back into the metaphysical realm. He peered at the others, standing silently and watching as the phantom young man looked at his mother mournfully. The old man at the House's entrance looked on as well, a strange, witty expression crossing his face.



"Eh, sonny. Yeh know, if yer goin' out 'n helpin' the dead, might as well do et for th' livin' to see too, eh?" Stepping out from his booth, the man strode over to Bruse, one bright monocle glaring up at the spirit. "Here yeh go. Dun lose eet now, sonny!" The man thrust a boney hand out at Bruse, holding what appeared to be a prop from the Haunted House. It was just a foam severed head, a cheesy grimace on it's face and fake blood painted on it's neck. From the top of the head sprouted a rope, probably used for hanging it above somewhere in the scenes. With a hesitant motion, Bruse took the prop and noticed as his form once again became clear for the physical world as he touched it, although not quite as crystal as when he was in the haunted house. Somehow, it was imbued with the same magic that existed in the Haunted House.


"Should do it, now GIT!" The old man barked, once again snapping a quick slap on Bruse's side. With a shocked glare, Bruse galloped over to the older woman and Sarkany. The ghostly young man looked at Bruse and then at the prop, causing Bruse to shrug. "So, where were we?" Bruse asked, feeling a tad ashamed at his odd situation. He tried instead to focus on the task at hand. "This uh...should help." He tied the prop around one of his arms, knotting it just above the elbow. Thankfully, the rope was long enough to go all the way around.

[MP]

Sarkany drummed his fingers lightly on the lacquered surface of a picnic table, nodding absently to his elderly companion's steady stream of chatter. They'd been through a half dozen attractions and what seemed like endless detours to ooh and ahh over this or that supernatural. Sometimes he found himself anticipating her next stop, or slipping into almost familiar conversation. Sometimes he almost enjoyed it. It was a relief when she stopped for a breather, and he took advantage of the break to watch the festival and calm his paranoia. Sometimes he thought he still caught glimpses of a distorted face through gaps in the crowd, but it was always gone the next moment. That was normal - everything was normal. It was easier to believe that and relax amid the bustle and the noise now that the things in the Haunted House were gone. Most of them, anyway.

He glanced over at the hulking shape, considering it. In spite of his earlier hostility, Bruse was still following them, fake head bracelet and all. There was little point ignoring that. Sarkany let out a slow breath.

"So." he said quietly. "What are you exactly? I haven't seen your kind before, living or dead."

He tried to attempt a cordial tone - he knew in spite of himself that the creature was attempting to help, after all - but he couldn't quite keep the coldness from his voice. He still remembered the day in the forest, the way She seemed drawn to the massive creature. If this Bruse was an ally, he was a dangerous one.

[Pearl Dragon]

As the group wandered the festival, the older woman mostly bustling Sarkany around, Bruse watched and waited patiently for the others to enjoy the activities. He mostly watched Tommy, and how he seemed to follow along and sit close to Sarkany and the woman, clearly trying to enjoy the entire experience as he probably once had years ago.



Finally, after a round through most of the attractions, Bruse settled near the picnic table while the older woman had a mostly one-way conversation with the tired Sarkany. It was when she finally gave the chat a rest that Sarkany addressed him. "So." He said, his voice somewhat low. Bruse had been watching the boy again, but his attention quickly switched to Sarkany at the word. "What are you exactly? I haven't seen your kind before, living or dead."



Bruse could hear the cold tone still shadowing most of the man's words. He seemed to have more on his mind that just that question. "I am, what the druids used to call, Ithean Dorchadas. It represents my nature, consuming darkness and evil in the form of metaphysical entities. As for what I am in the living, I do not know. I have no memory of life or death.  And I am the only one of my kind, as far as I know.  There was one other, but he is long since been destroyed.  He was...not exactly like me though." He glanced back over to Tommy. "This one needs to find his way. We will need to figure that out. And then yours...." He paused at the mention of Sarkany's problem. "Perhaps you can tell me a little about your past? What are you?"

[MP]

At the explanation, a hint of the old bright interest lit in Sarkany's eyes. He knew the beginnings of a story when he heard one, and he folded his fingers and listened with new calm in the hope of drawing it out. The interest grew, faint but steady as embers while the spirit spoke.

Then Bruse glanced at something Sarkany could not see, hinted at the thing he must not, and the curiosity in the golden eyes snuffed out. He gave an obliging smile at the counter question, but there was no warmth in the expression.

"Seraph would be the human word," he said. "But Sarkany will do. I'm like you - one of a kind." And he grinned slightly.

"As for my past, I was a...hunter of chaos. Some entities," he nodded solidarity at Bruse, "But mostly a kind of decay. After a few Ages, there was no more need for me, so I was brought here to live out the rest of my natural life."

He shrugged a little. "If you're hoping for a solution, I doubt there's anything in that. It was a normal life, all things considered."