Event Thread: Trick or Treat

[tsukikoko]

{GMs Notes:

Alright everyone! Time to get this 2018 Halloween Event thread ball a rollin'. I've placed up this introduction so that players can get their first character posts in with a good bit of leeway before I make the first proper post of the event, where choices and whatnot start to come into play.

Now, a bit of a rundown of guidelines.

- One character per player; make an introductory post detailing your character's costume (your choosing!) and their reaction to being a child now, huzzah!
- They have all their adult memories, intelligence etc. But any powers they have will be reduced to a child-like level. Please feel free to message me if you are unsure on this one.
- Then feel free to explore the world, make choices in the areas I describe to you, ask for sweets from NPCs, that kind of thing
- If your character dies, you can decide to bring in one more, who will be 'spawned' in a location nearby to any other characters that are still in the game, so you can join back in without having to go solo.

- If combat occurs I will need players to roll dice as I instruct them, via Discord or PM, which will be based on their actions. Usually it'll be a D20, but there maaaay be 'buffs' given to the character's roll depending on what they do, or if they've found something to help them in the world.
- Please keep in mind all the characters are children, so don't expect to be able to wrestle something to the ground as easily as if they were an adult!

- If possible, one post a day is recommended, no rigid posting order, even if only an OOC summary. But if this isn't possible, just let me know and I'll hold off until you can post! I don't want people to feel pressured or like they might miss out or be unfairly punished for REAL LIFE HAPPENINGS or some such.

All in all, have fun :3
}



The first thing one would notice, was the smell.

Sweet, tangy, welcoming. Freshly fallen leaves, the crispness of autumnal air, carrying with it all the scents of baked treats, candy and woodsmoke.

Awareness would come with a sudden clarity. There was no waking from the ground, or falling as though from a height. No disorientation as from a comatose state. Simply an opening of eyes, as if from a blink, revealing a festive array of reds, browns and golds, in a setting that was most certainly not Wathais. A street of houses stretched into the distance, each decorated with an incredible array of fake skeletons, streamers in the shape of cobwebs, jack-o'-lanterns, false graves and many other Halloween-inspired items. At one's back, a chain fence, blocking the dark forest that lay beyond. A bright, full moon hung in the sky, but the street itself was bathed in a warm, orange and yellow light from the many lanterns hung between buildings and across the road. Falling leaves of red and gold shades swirled about the street, settling gently and adding to the picturesque nature of the scene.

Figures lined the pavements and wandered about the road, moving with excited fervour between houses; werewolves, demons, witches, cats, zombified creatures, dragons, any costume one could hope to dream of seemed to be present, in some form or another, on the many children and adults making their way through the lively night. Pumpkin, skeleton and cauldron themed candy buckets swung from the tightly gripped hands of each child, some full to bursting with all manner of coloured sweets.

It was strange, however... The houses seemed so very large, the street so long, trees incredibly tall. A glance down revealed the reason.

Adult mind, adult awareness and memories, but the body of a child. A child currently clothed in some manner of costume, perfectly fitted, like a second skin. Any attempt at removal ended in failure, any damage self-inflicted was repaired within milliseconds. At one's feet, a themed candy pail, a neatly folded note contained within. Around oneself, others. Similarly clothed, with likely at least one familiar face.

Halloween night, awaits.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sara blinked, confused by the sudden onslaught of admittedly rather pleasant scents and sights. Her head swivelled, looked up at the sky, around at the houses, at a complete loss to how she had arrived here. Or where... here even was.

She didn't recognise it. The place wasn't Wathais, that much was evident. It certainly wasn't her bed, where she distinctly remembered falling asleep basically on top of a distracted and unsettled Aaron.

A chill skated down the shifter's spine. Her breathing faltered, heart thudding against her ribs. How could she be here? Why was she here? Not again, please, not again. The fragmented memories from a year ago lashed across Sara's vision, replaying what had happened last time she found herself somewhere other than the bed she fell asleep in.

She took a half step back, scanning for danger, the whirring of a saw.

But there was nothing of the sort. Only that same warm, lively atmosphere as when she arrived. Confusion battled with fear inside her; a fear that soon gathered in a fresh wave when she realised, as the rippling of her flesh preceded a shift, that something felt wrong. Muted somehow.

A small whine, a shake of her head, as though to deny the events transpiring. Her eyes screwed up shut. Yet still, nothing bad occured. No snarling, no ominous footsteps or looming, grotesque figure. When Sara opened her eyes again, the festival environment still remained. Unease crept beneath her skin. But now curiosity flared alongside as well. Nothing about this scene was dreadful or horrifying. Really the only unnerving aspect was how she had gotten here and... why everything seemed so big. In her initial panic, the shifter had failed to notice the scaling difference.

She put a hand to the back of her head and near leapt out of her skin as a consequence.

That hadn't felt right!

She looked at her hand, saw black claws instead, though she hadn't shifted. Now she did leap into the air. Something heavy hit the ground. She spun. A black, oddly skeletal mix of repilian and bladed features snaked along the ground behind her, sending a small, orange bucket flying. The shifter shrieked and spun again, saw further black and-

Oh god, it was her. Her own tail, her own hands, in costume. Shaking hands moved to her own head, where a smooth, domed and elongated structure extended. Come to think of it, now Sara took a moment to pause, how the hell had she not noticed the two rows of fake teeth above and below her head? She glanced down, saw her chest had been made to look similarly black, shiny and skeletal.

Realisation, of the shocked, geek variety with an excitement the shifter couldn't prevent, dawned. Her fear abruptly vanished beneath it.
"Cor blimey, am I a xenomorph?!" She exclaimed, only to flinch with a start half a second later at the pitch of her own voice. She raised her clawed hands again, took another glance down at herself.

"Bloody 'ell I'm a wee bairn."

[okami1reeka333]

zavijah:

It all occurred within a blink. . .

At one moment, she was falling asleep in the volcanic home she had made within the volcano -thanks to the help of talismans- well hidden within the jarred maw of the stone fire geyser. . . .the next, she was merely opening her eyes in the middle of the blacken stone path of what looked like the bordering of the valley of stone. . . the colors of the leaves emulated the colors of a lively fire. . . vibrant and stark, as they glistened in the dancing lights of the strange flameless lanterns below. It felt as though she was wearing another cloak or perhaps a coat. . .even though she is able to, she never forms sleeves with the skins on cloaks. . doing such reveals where her arms are. . . giving a clearer picture as to what she was doing.

though she didn't question the strange looking teeth, believing it was from that of another beast she had hunted. . .not realizing she was dressed similar to that of a dragon. . with fake wings, a tail, and big goofy eyes and teeth to go with the costume. . .though it did unsettle her how huge the stone path has become, or how tall the homes seemed. . . though her attention was taken away when she noticed a small pink pumpkin bucket in her hands. . . its got a strange yet amusing face on it. . it was curious as to what was the reason of sort. . .

well this wasn't her's, when did she grab this? . . .she spun around rather quickly when a loud thunk of a plastic bucket landed on the blackened path with the strange yellow streaks, along with a scream. . .she hurried over towards the strange one in black. . . whom looks alot like a creature she has never seen before. . .in fact, looking around. . . there were quite a few strange creatures and other sorts of folks. . .it wasn't long before it clicked. . these were all people. . . perhaps it was the harvest season? but why are they running around with strange yet amusing buckets?. . .

"are you alright? " she asked, turning towards the fallen one. . . before she blinked. . . well that cant be her, her voice was not that high or . . she looked around to see who might of caused the terror from the child. . .

[MP]

A flutter of crisp air past his face. The lights of a foreign street. As Aaron became aware of this, something brushed the side of his face.

He jerked away from it with a startled breath. Staggered backward another step, as if by doing so he could step out of the scene altogether. A leaf - it was just a dead leaf. But all around him, costumed figures milled around in the dark. It wasn't Sara's house; it wasn't any neighborhood he knew. It was happening again, despite all the week's precautions.

The look on the agent's face did not fit a child's features. Understanding, desperation, defiance. The emotions contorted his features as he turned on the spot. They twisted to hatred as something scraped behind him. The agent whirled on the sound, fists balled and ready to lash out. He wasn't playing their game again.

But there was no one. Just a chain link fence and the woods beyond. He glared around, suspicious. The sound again, this time from behind him. He turned after it, and this time he saw the tip of something dragging behind him. A...tail. Reptilian, lined with jagged, crystalline spines. Unmistakable.

Aaron stared at it, his shoulders dropping in bewilderment. He followed the spines up to his body. To his clawed, stocky feet. To his hands, which were mittened in stubby claws. He was a monster - the King of the Monsters, in fact. What the hell was going on?

His confusion was interrupted by a shriek - a child's voice. Aaron reacted on instinct. He whirled and ran for the sound, costume and all. He'd known - he'd known something was wrong with this place. In his hurry to reach the child, he hardly noticed the altered length of his own strides.

Aaron saw the girl in another moment. He hurried to her, had almost reached her when he slowed. This wasn't right. It was a child's proportions, but the height was wrong. And her face... Aaron stopped dead, staring numbly at the girl's features, recognizable even at this age. He managed a single croak, denial tugging at the word.

"Sara?"

His hands went to his mouth at the altered pitch of his voice. They were the same height. The same...age. Aaron's face went through a series of subtle contortions as he understood their situation: bewilderment, horror, something that was almost despair. This time she was here with him. This time, he would have to watch. And now they were truly helpless, trapped in useless bodies - in children's costumes.

Another emotion joined the mix as Aaron registered, for the first time, the distinctive curve of a xenomorph's skull. It was perfect, noted an involuntary thought. He looked at Sara, mouth twisting as anxiety warred with a sudden geekish admiration. Maybe it was hysteria setting in - some kind of emotional breakdown. But at the sight of the shifter, dressed in her little costume, he almost wanted to smile.

[jarahamee]

A rush of crisp air that sparked deep memories of fall seasons awakened Cassius' senses. He felt as if he had only been dozing, but he knew for certain he had just been asleep. Furthermore, his body had changed. He was somewhere he did not recognize. Beyond that, the body that had fit him so exactly had changed. He was smaller, weaker, his center of balance had changed, and he was..softer too.

He was used to wearing clothes, and indeed to wearing his Beastskin, but there was something different about this. It was not alive. It was.. furry and warm, and wrapped around him, but lifeless. It was simply a..costume. The thought surprised him, but he did have claws on his hands and feet.

The Beastskin seemed to be more of a mask, more lifeless than it ever had been.

This was...like last fall. Except more helpless and powerless.

It was the night of the spirits. All Hallows Eve. The pagan holiday. Of course it would be honored here, with these nightmare dreams. It was best to simply indulge them. When it all passed he would return to how he had been before.

He felt alone.

Then he saw his pail. The goal was to collect candy wasn't it? He supposed he could do that. He looked about to examine his companions, and then read his note. Collected himself. Gathered in what he was supposed to do. A calm settled on his chest.

[Pearl Dragon]

It was only for a moment that Stenson looked back, nearly tripping over the coffee table as he reacted with a startled blink to what sounded like a rustle of wind through papery leaves. In the dark, he could still see the edges of his living room furniture, standing out in negative contrast thanks to his nightvision as he made his way towards the kitchen. With the year already come and gone and the calendar date now on the cusp of Halloween, Stenson had grown to accept that sleep was not an option these days. Kit had already begun to spend most of her nights and days at his house, and he'd spent much of his free time keeping her calm, watching over her at night, and trying to still his own growing anxieties. The coffee table brushed past one knee with barely a bump, and Stenson felt his stomach mumble its usual nightly craving for something..perhaps a sandwich. After he'd gotten Kit settled for the night after many reassurances that he would not leave the house or her side for any longer than 5 minutes, he'd hoped to get one down before returning to his nightly watch. She had been far from sleep as well, but he hoped she wouldn't drag too long into the late hours without at least a small catnap.

The rustling leaves had whispered and gone almost as quick as they had come, but when Stenson turned back again, he froze mid stride. He peered ahead, not at the shadowed archway that led into his kitchen, but instead out into an open street of a neighborhood. The entire inside of his house had vanished in that single blink of an eye, leaving him in the middle of that road, outside, as a crisp fall wind whistled past his ears.

"How-? What?...Wh-?", came the string of sudden questions rushing through his thoughts as he stood, arms quickly outstretched from the unexpected change in environment as if in a balancing pose. He stared, dumbfounded and hunger forgotten, at the golden-red trees rustling above, brightly decorated Halloween porches, and galloping groups of children now prancing up and down the sidewalks all around him. The sound was probably the most alarming, the previous silent stillness of his home suddenly swept back and away by a rush of squealing, child-like chatter and Halloween festivities at each doorstep. All week long, his nerves had grown steadily more tense, and as if they couldn't get any worse they suddenly seemed surged in a quick flood of adrenaline through his veins at this sudden change of atmosphere. He could suddenly hear his own heart beat pulsing in his ears, and panic began to rise, threatening to overtake him at any moment. Was this-

Memories, flipping like a picture book through his mind, suddenly flashed images of moldering earth, cold metal, whirring blades, and blinding pain.

Stenson wobbled where he stood before his legs finally gave out underneath of him, landing him hard on the asphalt in a sitting position. A sharp clabber of hollow plastic to his immediate left loosed a frightened cry from him, one that was unnaturally high in tone. A quick glance and the culprit, it seemed, was a plastic bucket, pumpkin shaped and similar to what every kid on the block seemed to be carrying at that very moment. It had a face painted with a carrot-orange jack-o-lantern's smile, eyes and mouth that stood out stark against the bumpy round surface, the rest of which was jet-black painted plastic.
  It's handle, a thin wire with a plastic handle, was clutched in one hand as if it had been there the entire time.
Where did he get that?? He hadn't been holding it thirty seconds ago?? And his hands!

Stenson held up his free hand and looked at it with widening eyes. They were...small! His eyes trailed down an abnormally short arm, across a much thinner, shorter torso, and finally down to a pair of much-shorter legs. With his head lowered, something tipped down over his eyes and he flailed it back with a sweep of his arm only to realize it was some sort of hat. A cowboy hat, to be exact, made of thin brown foam and fastened by an elastic string stretched under his chin. Upon further inspection, he also noticed his previous attire of sweats and long sleeved fleece sweater had been replaced with cowboy blue-jean pants, yellow and gold plaid shirt, a white vest made of the same thin foam as his hat laced with bright red "leather stitchings", and cowboy boots complete with little plastic spurs. At his hip was a shiny toy revolver tucked in a brown cloth belt and holster on one side, and a thin rope lasso on the other. Like the other children all around him, he was dressed full, and completely, in a costume! A cowboy sheriff! His rank shimmered up at him in the form of a plastic gold sheriff's star, pinned neatly on the right side of his vest.

A deep breath rattled in and out of him as he settled back on the palms of his shaking hands. Looking all around, he saw no incoming blades or saws, no sign of the previous nightmare from last year. In fact, everything here was so cheerful, and child-like. Even as he looked up, his attention drawn by a nearby squeal of surprise, he couldn't help but feel weaker. Like a child? Pushing his skewed glasses back against the bridge of his nose (even these felt awkward and slightly oversized, although they still fit for the most part), he stood on shaky legs to try and get a hold of himself. The others up ahead, most dressed as some form of lizard while the third had an unmistakable Xenomorph costume on, each had a familiarity to them. The Xeno in particular had a tangle of red hair that blossomed around the spaces between the mask and neck, hair that immediately reminded him of Sara's. The other, a shaggy looking kid that was also very much like a younger Aaron, stood next to her. A MUCH younger Aaron... And...Zavijah?
  Yes, that had to be them!  It had to be, and they were so little!
He stumbled into a clumsy jog, bucket still clutched tightly in a small fist, it's toothy orange smile lilting up at him with each swing.

"Hey!...Is that, Aaron? Sara?...Z-Zavijah? What's happening?" His voice felt pinched, much too high for what was normal. He'd never been a child before; he was sculpted, afterall, not born; and the entire feel of it was already utterly alien to him.

Who all was here? Was it actually happening...again? Where was Kit, was she here!? Please God, don't let her be here... It all seemed so friendly this time, but he didn't trust it, couldn't trust it. By the time he'd reached the others, he'd managed to chase off most of his anxiety to think straight again, but he needed to know that he wasn't alone.

[kilnarak]

October was a... trying month. It used to be Ari's favorite, before he had moved here - he loved Halloween, all the decorations, the changing season, the candy; but now, the change from Summer to Fall only brought him anxiety. Would it happen again? It had happened nearly every year since he had come to Wathais, surely it would happen again. He wasn't even sure how to prepare for it, especially when everything around him seemed to go on just the same, unworried about the coming Curse.

Sleeping was... difficult. He had barely managed it last night, curled up tense against Marchelute's chest. It should have made him feel safe, comfortable - and any other time it would have, but now... Well he knew well enough by now the Curse could take him wherever he was, even in the arms of his Pact-mate.

So when he opened his eyes and suddenly found that he wasn't where he had fallen asleep, Ari had a fair idea of what was happening and was not at all happy. It almost felt like a dream, but given the time of the year, he was fairly certain it wasn't. But unlike the other times, this time he found himself standing, not waking lying on the floor or strapped to a table. There was something on his face, obscuring his vision, and his body felt weak, restricted. He took a half-step back and stumbled, then fell on his butt with a short cry. His voice was odd, sounded too small, too high-pitched. Something that had been clutched in one of his gloved hands clattered against the concrete sidewalk.

What was worse, he couldn't feel Marchelute. He had become used to being aware of his mate such that he barely noticed it anymore, but now, suddenly, it was as if a part of himself was severed. He began to shake, small high-noises rising in his throat, tears leaking from his eyes as he peered about wildly, squinting past the mesh blocking his eyes. There were children around him wearing a variety of costumes, some seemed near as distraught as he was, some unphased. Was he a child, then? A weak, small, helpless child? He shuddered, breathing too quickly, the thing covering his face growing hot and humid with his breath. He felt like he might pass out.

He reached for his face and found it encased in a mask. It slipped up over his face easily, the chin resting against his forehead, but he didn't seem able to push it completely off. The hand that passed infront of his face was... wrong. It was much too small, covered in a black glove tipped with plastic claws; blue lines traced down from the claws along the backs of his fingers and hand, disappearing into a puffy, padded sleeve. The sleeve was also black with a blue tracery of lines, fashioned to look like a bracer on the forearm, then moving up into padding designed to look like large muscles. looking down, his chest was covered in similar padding designed to give him big pecs and a six-pack, along with raised silvery bumps above his collar bones that looked like... teeth? The pants weren't padded, but did appear to be attached to the shirt - a jumpsuit? - but featured the same blue lines on shiny black cloth. At about mid-calf they tightened slightly and were designed to look like boots. Below them, he was wearing black sneakers.

He glanced aside at the thing he had been holding - a green plastic bucket shaped like a jack-o-lantern. A piece of paper had fallen out of it, and he reached with his too-small hand to take it, then to unfold it and read it. In the process of this, the Black Panther mask slipped back down over his face and he yelped, startled, before shoving it back up. He wanted to read the note, and the netted eyes of the mask made it too difficult to see! He needed to know the rules of the game - even if he had never succeeded at it before... perhaps if he succeeded now, it would lift the Curse from him? And then he could go home and he could find Marchelute and... and everything would be fine.

[Marshmallow]

It was another late night, and the good Dr. Hahn was just making his way back from a trip to the coffee machine when it happened.
He blinked.


In the span of an instant, the world in which Walter found himself was vastly changed. There had been no sensation of movement out of the norm, no bleary confusion as with sleep or even the haze of a drug overdose. He simply blinked, and was in another place.

A night-darkened street stretched before him. Houses lined the road to either side, and the footpaths were packed with meandering crowds. Decorative lanterns lit the night, brightly colored autumn leaves drifted on a brisk wind, scents of smoke and baked sweets filled the air.

This was most definitely not his office.


He became aware of several things in quick succession, not one of which made a lick of sense.

First and foremost, there was definitely something on his head, as though someone had pressed an obscuring sheet of felt over his face. He could see only through the cut holes in front of his eyes, though even those were smudged and tinted, as if covered by a low quality plastic. Blessedly his mouth and nose were left largely uncovered, so he could breathe without discomfort.

When he raised his hands to be rid of the peculiar clinging felt, he realized that his coffee mug and folder were gone, his hands were clad in dark gloves, and that there was a peculiar absence in his senses - two hands moved, where he should have felt the impulses of three. Grumbling, he shoved the elongated mask up away from his eyes, only to have it collide with what felt like a wide-brimmed hat. He fumbled with the items for a moment, finding to his annoyance that the elastic cords which secured both objects to his head refused to budge, preventing him from removing them entirely. It took a minute, but he managed to keep the strange, beak-shaped mask settled on his forehead under the hat. Uncomfortable, but at least now he could properly see.


What Walter saw, however, only inspired more questions.
Looking down at himself, he found a body whose proportions did not match his most recent memory. He felt stunted, small. Like a child. His laboratory coat had been exchanged for what looked like a medieval robe and mantle, though with modern, low-quality materials rather than period leathers. He had dark pants and black sneakers on, and a faux leather belt fastened around his waist, to which were attached a pair of satchels with pull-string tops and a toy flask to complete the plague doctor costume.


Walter frowned as he took in the sight, turning in place and running his too-small hands over the clothing as if to confirm it was real. He frowned more when his twisting and turning revealed missing pieces; his third arm and both of his tails were gone, cut cleanly from his body and his senses as though they had never existed.

Strangely, when he closed his right eye, he could still detect the wavering silhouettes of heat signatures, the echoing ripples and splashes of ethereal color of sound and energy, which confirmed his spectral left eye remained. He pressed fingers to his face, found his skin unmarred, no signs of the graft or the Number scarred into his flesh. Save for the odd left socket, he was, for all intents and purposes it seemed, himself - whole and undamaged, just... smaller. Younger.

"Was zur Hölle..?" he murmured to himself, in a voice much softer and higher pitched than normal. He was incredibly confused, but also innately curious. Was this some form of hallucination? Had an anomaly occurred in the lab? Perhaps a mesmer had broken containment...


His gaze fell upon a pail resting at his feet. It was made of sculpted white plastic in the stylized shape of a grinning skull, with a thin wire handle and a plastic grip. He bent to pick it up, examining it curiously, to find a leaf of folded paper inside. He reached in to grab it, at the same time becoming aware that he was not alone at the end of the street.

Around him, voices and stumbling footsteps. Children in costumes.

Walter turned silently and watched them. He recognized certain costume creatures - Godzilla, an alien xenomorph, a dragon, a simple cowboy - but he couldn't quite put names to faces. Some of the children showed signs of alarm and confusion, others were calmer. He didn't immediately recognize any of the names being shouted, nor the faces... Although, the cowboy did have a uniquely familiar grey hue to his skin.

[qhostqrowls]

One second Kail was stalking through the forest and then, suddenly, he wasn't. The wendigo simply blinked, and then found himself looking down a strange street, filled with squealing children and plastic halloween decorations. A quick scent of the air revealed nothing, only the sweet smell of candy and dead vegetation, as the red and amber leaves drifted to the ground around him.

“What the hell?”

Ice blue eyes widened at the pitch of his voice - a childs voice. The very un-childlike curse slipped out again, now several volumes louder in his shock. “What the fuck?!” The fawn turned in a sharp circle, slender hooves skittering over the leaves as he looked down at himself. The fur on his legs was a paler shade of grey, and softer, wispier. There was a blur of movement as he examined his hands. Smaller, everything was smaller from his fingers to the diamter of his thin wrists. Even his claws were shorter - they were like the claws of a kitten compared to his typical talons. With wide eyes, he felt the top of his head and found nothing but antler nubs amid his dark locks.

He'd never been a wendigo as a child. It was an entirely new experience, with his little sharp puppy teeth and no antlers. Hollow cheeks, still, as he ran a hand down his face, but less so. Although he couldn't see it, there was a smattering of freckles across his face, like the spots of a fawn.

His gaze shot up at the sound of nearby voices. There were other children milling about. None of them he recognized, and he felt aprehensive about approaching them while like...this. They were all decked out in costumes, superheros or monsters. A high pitched growl built in his chest as he looked more closely at his own costume. It was a light brown jumpsuit, with distinctive spots and a white belly. There was a hood attached, he discovered, as he felt behind his head, complete with short, soft antlers. It was unmistakably a bambi costume.

The expression of disgust on his face darkened and he immediately turned his claws to the costume. He didn't know what was happening, why he was a frail, gangly little fawn all of a sudden, but he was not wearing this ridiculous outfit.

Very soon he found it was pointless. The cloth stitched back together as quickly as it was shredded. But if anything, it only provoked him more and he spent a good thirty seconds repeatedly shredding the legs, arms and torso of the costume, the growl pitching upwards into something more like a whine the longer he attacked the material only for it to fix.

Eventually he stopped, thin chest heaving up and down as he glared at the plastic pumpkin bucket near his feet, at the note it contained. His oversized ears slicked agaisnt his head as he snatched the paper up and unfolded it, already scowling. He'd likely not understand half the words, but even if he could get the general gist of what was written, maybe this would begin to make more sense

[NightshadeVII]

Aberdeen had been burning the midnight oil, working on a composition of his, a sound, a song that haunted him, tangible in his mind alone and slowly, steadily appearing on paper, stroke by stroke. With every line, every scratch of dark blue ink spilling out, he could hear the song forming itself, as if it was playing in the room around him. Every once in a while, he’d stop to play a segment or two, quietly, the tones bleeding into the night. Then he’d resume his work, just as vigorously as before. It calmed him, to work, to create like this, it always had, and yet, he wasn’t entirely sure why he needed to be calmed, why his mind raced with intangible, foggy nightmares every time he closed his eyes, rising in intensity, until it felt so real, touching him. Then, when he woke, he could never recall what had felt so real to him. He almost felt possessed by some kind of shadow, something out of his reach that kept on taunting him, day after day. So apparently, this was how he coped, with ink on his fingers and hands, even on his arms. Perhaps he was trying to forget.
A soft groan pushed past his lips as the nøkk ran his hand down his face, trying to keep himself awake, knowing that he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t rest, but not knowing why.
For just a second, his eyes closed and that was enough.

When Aberdeen opened his eyes again, he found himself somewhere entirely different, a street with unknown houses on either side, the sound of laughter and squealing ringing clear in the night. The sickly sweet smell of candy heavy in the air. It wasn’t Wathais, that much was sure. Then panic set in. How far was he from Wathais? What would happen to him? Could he even get back before his time ran out?

Now he remembered. Everything. He remembered the grimy halls painted with gore, the bloody table he had woken up on, the monsters, the mutilation, the air thick with sorrow and other such emotions, choking him.
He remembered how his body slowly had betrayed him, stripping him of breath and sight, sense after sense tearing him down.
He remembered death. His own death. Cut open, crucified and electrocuted, half out of his mind, all in the strive towards what had been called perfection at the time. A mask hiding cruelty, perhaps not unlike his own.

Absentmindedly, he reached up, fingertips brushing against the side of his head, tracing the lines where a scar had never formed, as always, there was nothing there, but it still felt different to the touch. Curiousity without sense of situation ignited instantly, and he looked at his hand, as if something might be different. And it was, his hand was smaller, much smaller than it should be. The hand of a child. Calmly, he looked down at himself, studying, seeing the body he was trapped in.
The shape of a child. A small, compact body, so far from the streamlined, adult vessel he had become used to. Without a doubt more fragile, breakable. He knew from experience. So that was how it would play out this year
Slowly, Aberdeen looked down at himself, at this new body of his only to find himself wearing some kind of costume. The cloth was cheap no doubt, every article of clothing he wore, was some shade of clear, bright winter-blue. The shirt itself had sequins attached to it in an intricate pattern and the stitchings on his pants appeared to form snowflakes. Further examination, revealed a lighter blue cape, with the same snowflake stitchings, slung over his shoulders, which would be great, should they end up running. Even his hair hadn’t avoided decoration, as small plastic snowflakes had been braided into it. What on earth had he been dressed up as?
Then he noticed a matching plastic bucket at his feet, shaped to look like a grinning skull of sorts. It appeared that this year, whoever did this really stayed true to the holiday it all took place during. Was this some kind of joke? Hadn’t it been difficult enough to survive last year?

Still, survival mechanisms quickly kicked in and he faked a smile akin to the one he saw on so many of the other children here, figuring it best to blend in quickly. Then he began looking for people he recognized. If it was anything like last year, it wasn’t something that happened to him alone, perhaps he would meet the people he had been trapped with last time, or maybe he’d meet someone entirely new.
Then he heard a voice, a hissed curse followed soon after by the sound of cloth being torn apart over and over. Even if the voice was different, the nøkk had an idea of who it was, or perhaps he just allowed himself to hope. But sure enough, as he followed the sound, he saw, that it was someone he recognized, despite the childlike body. With sunken cheeks, pale skin and... fawn spots, Kail almost looked like himself, but not quite. He didn’t quite look as terrifying as normal, with his nubby hints of antlers and short claws. Immediately Aberdeen frowned slightly, if something so natural to the wendigo had weakened, what would have happened to his own abilities?

“Kail.” Aberdeen called out stopping in front of the wendigo, keeping some distance between them, should he choose to lash out.
“You’re here too this time, huh...”, he sighed, “not the best circumstances to meet under, but I suppose you don’t know what’s going on? You... weren’t here last year.”
Then Aberdeen saw how Kail and others around him found a note in their plastic buckets. Almost on instinct, he reached down into his own, fishing out the note meant for him and opening it to read. Maybe this would give him some idea of what was happening, so he wouldn’t have to stumble around blindly like last time.

[beastly]

The first thing that hit him was the scent.  No longer was Simon at some greasy burger joint, about to bite into some well earned fries. Their smell was gone, replaced by a smokey, sugary smell. It was dark, but not in a scary way. It looked like... Halloween.  The werewolf had been in quite a few odd situations, but this was a first. He went to adjust his glasses, but was met by nothing. He frantically patted at his face, until he noticed that despite the change in scenery, he could see just fine.  He whipped his head around, but nothing familiar greeted him. Just kids.... Tall kids.  Had he shrunk?? Was this a fae prank?  That would make sense...  if he was turned into a kid he wouldn't need his glasses. 

The second thing he noticed was it was a full moon. This, beyond the other strange things scared him the most. He could already feel thick fur sprouting  under his clothing, teeth shifting in his mouth.  He didn't have time to check what he was wearing, he dove into some bushes, truly panicked at this point.  No, no, no! This was bad. That's all he could think as his body twisted itself in ways a child's body shouldn't twist, this was bad.  It was not long before there was no longer a child in the bushes, but a puppy.  The puppy  poked it's nose out of the bushes. There was lingering fear, but that was starting to dissipate. Everything smelled so good! There were lots of people to smell!!! The puppy stumbled out of the bushes, his costume changing to fit a creature on all fours. The puppy couldn't tell, but he was a wolf in wolf's clothing.  It was time to go sniff people!

[Salandis]

[Raine is in a costume he knows, but is having an unexpectedly bad time already. Did any of you little munchkins pack a hip-flask?]



The sweetness of crisp autumn air filled Raine’s lungs, and he breathed deep to savour the unexpected absence of the chill bite that normally accompanied this weather. The scent of apples, vanilla, and firewood smoke carried over the air, each one seeming pleasant and nostalgic. He looked around at the village before him and realised he had no memory of this place. It was festively decorated for the season, with jack-o-lanterns, skeletons and fake spider-web as far as the eye could see. The yard next to him displayed a false graveyard, complete with spooky sounding names on the headstones and what looked like plastic hands reaching up through the dirt. But it wasn’t simply another place out in the suburbs: This wasn’t even Wathais, it was some other place he had never seen before. For that matter, he had no memory of how he got there. A quick look behind him showed the closed chain gates and a mysterious dark forest. Incipient panic bloomed in his chest, which he ruthlessly quashed – he had practice with that, at least.

Kaiaeko. He started to swear silently. You miserable bastard, I swear I am going to go down to your shrine tomorrow and smear the whole thing down with dog shit. He looked around at whatever mess Halloween had landed him in this time. The houses looked actually pretty benign, the decorations comic but not frightening, just oddly large. Raine was not at all fooled. It was about at this point he realized he was holding something, and carrying something else. He looked down, and started mentally cursing some more.

This was a costume he had worn before, with some notable differences. The leather pants were a cheap kind of faux-leather, but still quite tight. The codpiece was thankfully restrained. His white linen shirt was ruffled, collarless, and bound with a silvery talisman; it was further covered by a knee-length glittering blue jacket with a high curled back collar and sequins down from the shoulders. The long hair that showed against those shoulders was white, with a hint of blue. If further confirmation was needed, all he had to do was look at the hand mask he was carrying: A thin skeletal arm holding black, horned eye mask. Jareth. He thought glumly, his hand absently rising up to fit the mask to his face again. Well at least I have style. Something else abruptly registered, and he looked down again. Was the ground… Closer? And why in the hells was he carrying a cheap, owl shaped plastic candy bucket?

He looked up at the street again, this time noting it's inhabitants. A young girl dressed up in a xenomorph costume, but the tail was wrong. Another girl close to her in what was clearly a dragon costume. A boy stood there dressed in a dinosaur costume – or was that Godzilla? A boy in a furry outfit – wait, was that Cassius? A panicky looking cowboy was moving over to them. A plague doctor seemed to be more calmly assessing himself, although with the mask on it was a bit hard to tell. A deer costume covered a face he had certainly seen before, but the urge to laugh disappeared when he saw Ari, dressed as the Black Panther. Instead another wash of rage came over him. Dog shit and rotting eggs, Kaiaeko, he thought viciously, even as he finally realised that all of these children were the same height as he was.

“I’m a child,” he said wonderingly, his voice a rather sweet tenor. How would he look without the costume? An image drifted before his minds’ eye of curly red hair, grass green eyes, and a cherubic smile. A hard lump formed in his throat as he banished that image firmly, abruptly craving something alcoholic. Shakily, he realised there was unlikely to be any alcohol anywhere in a universe built for children, let alone a handy biker club he could break apart. Instead he stumbled over towards Ari, pasting a smile on his face. “Another year, another fantasy,” he tried to sound whimsical. “At least we aren’t tied tah tables this time. Trick or treat?”

[Sharei]

Bi-colored eyes opened from a slow blink. In the ensuing chaos of startled children exclaiming over their predicament, a shadow on the outskirts of the crowd turned its head; a splash of crimson hair with tell-tale black tips tilted, falling over haunted eyes made more mournful by the roundness of the youth they usually lacked. The ugly scar normally hidden by the fall of long hair, the high collars, raked up the side of the boy's neck and into the bruised flesh of his right cheek, vivid against his pale skin. And as he watched, small and tense and rooted to the spot, Dust realized four fundamental truths at the exact same time.

First, and possibly the most alarming, was that he didn't have any idea where he was. This was not strictly unusual, for Zramek had sometimes shut him down for transport when they didn't want him to learn the way to a particular location. What made it alarming was that only Zramek Keepers should have that kind of power over him, and a well-hidden anxiety shot through Dust that had his hands shaking.

Second, he was short. Used to looking down on things from his six foot even, Dust wasn't accustomed to looking up. The height difference was so jarring that he immediately noticed how off the world was, like he was walking on his knees. He felt different as well. Weaker. Younger. A look at his hands and listening to the conversation happening around him provided all the information he required. Something had changed him into a child somehow, and he was not the only one.

Third, he was wearing some sort of outfit. A costume perhaps, as the others were? Though his did not look as fantastical. A black combat vest, black trousers, combat boots and some sort of long-sleeved under shirt. It was pretty standard fare for a tactical agent and Dust approved, even if it was fitted to his seven-year-old self. The only thing he found off about it was the way the costume made his arm look like it was made out of metal, with a large red star on the shoulder. Upon closer inspection, the gun strapped to his side was only a toy - unfortunate, but not important.

The fourth thing was that there were people present he recognized. They were smaller and their faces were rounder, but there were similarities in their faces, and he could pick out Aaron and that grey-skinned Stenson Jones. Dust was only really afraid of two things, and one of those things was water; the other was Zramek, and the thought of Aaron getting caught up in anything Zramek related had his nerves jangling with adrenaline. He didn't know what was going on, but they needed to get out and get out fast.

"Aaron?" he called, moving to intercept the agent as he fussed over some girl. "Aaron!"

Was zur Hölle..?

Dust paused. His head turned, yellow and orange eyes widening. He blinked, then began to step in the new distraction's direction. He recognized that accent and the spectral eye it came with. "Doktar?"

[tsukikoko]

Cassius, Walter, Ari, Kail and Aberdeen decide to read the note. Whatever language is most known and recognisable to the reader appears on the paper, allowing the words make complete sense to them. Whether in English or another language, the message or translation reads as follows;

Hello players,

Welcome, to a very special night. I am delighted to inform you of the nature of tonight’s events. You will each notice that you are dressed in costume, some of you may even have attempted to remove them. You cannot, I’m afraid, as to do so would not be in the spirit of the event!

Now, you are in a town, a very festive town, where every house is more than willing to reward each and every one of you with sweet treats, the likes of which, I’m sure, you will find most delicious. Unlike anything you have ever eaten before. 

A word of warning; do not attempt to leave the town. You are free to explore and interact with the whole town, inhabitants and buildings alike, nothing is locked off to you. But do not stray past the ‘You are leaving’ signs on the sides of the roads, or attempt to climb the fence. The consequences will be dire. One cannot, in good conscience, allow young children to wander into the night and become lost, after all.

The aim of tonight is for a fun, spooky event. There may even be a mystery or two. But it is the candy that is really the main attraction! Go forth, collect it, try it, enjoy it! Once the moon dips beneath the hill to the North (I believe from your starting location, you will be able to see it behind the fire station, but if I have miscalculated, simply travel to the next street up and you will see what I have referenced), you shall be returned to your adult lives. Or, should you find the correct animal-themed treat and wish to return sooner, simply eat it and the night shall be ended for you prematurely.

Have a fantastic evening trick-or-treating, dear children.

Aaron, Sara, Dust and Simon, who had forgotten or otherwise lost their pails, find the following occurs;
Aaron, Sara and Dust’s pails reappear at their feet once they stand still for long enough, as though having always been there. The note is still neatly folded within. Simon’s pail appears around his new puppy neck, affixed as a keg would to a Saint Bernard. This way, he can carry it even without hands.

For all present, the festive night continues around them; laughter and general chat fills the air, cinnamon spices, chocolate and sugary sweetness drifts across the breeze towards them. Behind the gathered groups, a large chain link fence stands tall, separating the street and houses from the forest beyond. It stretches and blocks their route both left and right, leaving the street of houses, that stretch into the distance, the only route of easy travel. Other than that, everyone seems free to talk, interact, examine one another’s costumes, investigate their surroundings and perhaps figure out what to do... 


[OOC: Sara has a general cute nerdy freakout about Aaron’s costume, then Zavi’s.. and then Sten’s. Realises her pail is at her feet and picks it up, taking the note out but not properly reading it yet, before asking what the group should do now.]

The sound of a voice, a word that might have been her name, so close, made Sara jump with a squeak. She spun around, costumed hands raised in front of herself in surprise. At the sight of another kid - wearing an incredible Godzilla outfit, she might add - the shifter’s eyebrows briefly came together in confusion, but skyrocketing upwards into her fringe when she realised just who she was looking at. Smaller, yes; without stubble, most definitely; but those features, that little scar just about visible on his eyebrow (though he seemed to be missing the one across his nose), those grey eyes, she knew those features too well to miss.

“Aaron!”
His name escaped in almost a yell. Relief, surprise, happiness and just a touch of fear given their situation, all intermingled into the sound as Sara flung her arms around her partner. Her movements a blur, she managed to give him a quick kiss on the tip of his nose, even with their costumes, before holding him at arm’s length to look at him. A high pitched sound began to escape. Then she was grabbing the sides of his head and squishing his cheeks through the costume.
“Eeeee! Oh Aaron luv ya look so CUTE! Why aye, we meet be in mortal peril or somethin’, like, and it meet be the ‘ysteria talkin’ but, blimey, the King of Monsters suits ya like. Christ, I just wanna squeeze ya-” Mid-flow, the xenomorph noticed another figure approaching. Recognised the slightly stilted English as a woman she knew. Her focused shifted, but she didn’t let go of Aaron’s face. “Zavi! Cor blimey it is you! And ya a tiny dragon! Oh god we’re-” Yet another voice joined the group, one that made Sara’s eyes widen and sparkle as she laid eyes on the grey skinned child running up.

Now, she did finally let go of Aaron, to wind her way around Stenson while chattering with further, slightly hysterical, excitement.
“A cowboy! Oh my god you’re a-” she spotted the badge on one of her sweeps, “-a sheriff! Ahhh! Even better! And blow me, ya even ‘ave accessorieeeesss!” Now stood in front of him, the shifter wore an unbelieving, but rather delighted smile on her face. The expression lasted a good few seconds, her skeletal, alien tail wagging as a dog’s might, before realisation dawned once again. The torrent of her excitement had briefly masked the fact they were in a strange location and currently children.

Memories of last year flickered across her vision. Including, unfortunately, what had happened last time she had been trapped in a place on Halloween, with Stenson. Her own torn ribcage. The pain. Sara took a small step back towards Aaron, in a manner that appeared on the surface as just the shifter putting herself back next to her boyfriend and fought not to inhale sharply. She couldn’t blame the gargoyle, he wasn’t like that, he was her friend. But now the fear spread, reminding her of what this place could potentially do to them. Another step back and she was nearly tripping over something at her feet.

The shifter made a high-pitched sound and enacted a dance mixed with stumbling, as she attempted to avoid stepping on whatever item she had bumped into. Once safely grounded on both feet, closely inspection revealed the pail that she was certain had been set flying by her tail earlier. Right... weird Halloween potential horrorland, rules were likely different here.

The note still lay neatly folded up inside and as the shifter bent to pick up the bucket, she took it out, unfolded it, but only had time for the briefest of skim-reads before her gaze moved between her companions.
“So…” She began uncertainly, the earlier boisterousness well and truly faded. Mostly, her eyes were on Aaron, hand twitching as she considered taking his to centre herself. “'Eck, what're we tah do now, like?”

[okami1reeka333]

[OOC: zavijah while trying to wrap her head around the concept of what a cowboy or sheriff was or other modern characters, and all in the same, wonder if a king of the monsters was an actual beast that can be hunted, as well as survey the area/look around. apon another study of the bucket she holds, she will finally notice the note and read it, before purposing a suggestion. ]

zavijah:

she was relieved that her ally was alright seeing she was suddenly jumping up, and even kissing the boy who ran up to her. . .one who's name seems to be 'Aaron' . . .perhaps they were lovers or even husband and wife in the real realm? when she heard her name called out by a child's voice, she glanced over to notice a gray skinned boy. . in more human-like attire. . . at least part of it she noticed was a false animal's skin. ". . .Stenson? . . I fear I am unaware of what occurs currently. . . are you alright?" she replied before she asked. . .

Why was Stenson panicked? was there something to be feared in this strange realm? though when Sara turned and exclaimed she was dressed as a tiny dragon, she tilted her head before looking down at herself, before taking notice apon the others' heights. . .

seems like regardless of what realm she is in, shes forever doomed to remain one of the shorter end of height. . . perhaps it would be of use later, begrudgingly admittedly as the truth might be. Quietly wondering to herself what all these things were as Sara listed them off in an excited manner, perhaps the bone of a King of monsters would be useful building materials as well as the hide. . she looked around the area, glancing at the auras around. . . she recognized Sara, Stenson, and Officer Lucidus? haoever there was a good number of them whom she did not recognize, yet they seemed to be gathered rather close to them? one whom seemed to have a false metal sleeved arm, dressed in black seemed to hurry towards them, knowing of this 'Aaron' Sara had kissed and embraced.  ". . . so . . does anyone bare knowing as to where we might be, and what these strange buckets are for?" she asked, turning her attention towards the three immediately close to her before gesturing to the bucket in her hands.

"whomever made these sá seems very masterful from hao light and evenly carv-" she started to note before noticing s neatly folded paper in the bucket she held. she carefully pulled it out before unfolding it and reading it. . . noticing it was in old English, this made her life very easy, and her concern given rise. Her native tongue was a dead language to the majority of those whom spoke modern English . . hinderhóc behweorfan? trick / treat? was it trick or treat? trick and treat? it seemed more likely that it was or, rather then and considering the faint children voices chiming a similar declaration. considering hao it was written it suggests that this was a form of activity. . . . and that whomever or whatever brought them here. . . and changed their forms as well as their attire. . .intended for them to do this, but for what purpose?
she started to take note of the strange things tied or sheathed apon various hips of those surrounding her. . . grimacing. . .

she quietly listened before purposing a suggestion; taking notice to the changed tone of her ally's voice. . . was Sara afraid as well, but of what? "If non of us knows what true motives are held. . .perhaps it would be wise for us to gather in group, and gather what information we can. . and blend in with the others. . . for if there is reason to fear-" she started, glancing between them. " - then perhaps it would be wise to prepare ourselves during calm tidings. . . before the storm rages, and whatever might occur rears its head. "

[MP]

[OOC: Aaron is anxious. He reads the note, takes Sara's hand, and attempts to organize the WDSA agents (and Dust) into getting people moving.]

As one child after another emerged onto the street, the weight of the situation sank in. Sara, and a dragon, and a puppy, and a deer, and Sara. Sara.

Aaron was, barring several fire-related incidents, as close to a panic attack as he’d ever been. The houses seemed to loom at him, the light too watery to hold. His palms were clammy beneath the claws, and he was shivering, even though the warmth of the costume should have stopped it, and even though it hid the tremors from view. And yet, beneath his stress, there were also sick sparks of hilarity. It was so ridiculous, so pointless, the odds so stacked against them, that it was almost funny. The emotions warred in his head, a fraying thread reflected only in his eyes.

And then Sara’s arms were around him. There was a kiss to the tip of his nose, a pair of clear green eyes smiling into his own. Aaron focused on that smile, and as nonsensical and inappropriate as it was in their predicament, the sight seemed to ground him. Enough that his thoughts fell back into something closer to usual working order.

“Fawa,” he complained, as sternly as he could through smooshed cheeks. “Thif if fewiouf.”

Serious, he thought, listening to Sara identify incoming children one by one. But maybe not dire, if they were smart. He picked up the stalker bucket and read over the note, holding onto that thought. These were people they knew. People they could work with. And the officers - he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so relieved to see other agents - even child-size. Even Stenson. He looked up as the conversation paused. Looked up and blanched. Because there was another face he recognized, with familiar eyes, even if he hadn’t placed the voice.

“Dust?” He said, stepping away from the group. A fresh bloom of panic. This was not conducive to a healthy adjustment. He swallowed his anxiety, beckoning the Genasi over with as much imperative and steadiness as he could fake. “Over here. And Jones-”

He looked back to the officer, taking Sara’s hand absently in his as she stood beside him. He waited until Dust and more of the others were closer before he continued.

“This is a - some kind of paranormal event. A survival test.” He forced his voice to remain steady, unstressed. “There’s a strong possibility we’ll be hunted.”

There, that wasn’t so hard to say, he told himself. Liar, answered his heart rate.

“Until we find a way out, we need to follow instructions.” He tapped his note paper. “Stay together. Stay sharp. Keep a head count.”

His next words were mostly directed at his fellow agents. But he’d take anyone who would listen.

“We need to get people moving. It’s not safe to stay put for too long.”

Because if there was one thing he remembered from that place, it was that it did not like people to stop. And because after the note, he did not like the look of the fence.