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Post by Diana on Apr 2, 2014 15:47:35 GMT -5
Winston coughed and spluttered as he was assaulted with yet another hair product. A quick glance in the mirror revealed that he had evolved from a Winston into a Shiny Winston. Cool! "I have given you a great power, young man." Winston preened. "Use it well. If you use the right poses with those ears, everyone will open their doors for you. And remember to take good care of your hair! Otherwise the demons will settle again."“I will!” he promised. “I’m not sure which shop sells Fashion Tokens, but I’ll use at least one per week! Or is this a subscription?” Winston wasn’t sure if he wanted to be cute, but mysterious mentor figures always knew best. He promised to give the man photographs of his Hylian alter-ego – he could do it straight away, in fact, but he had to get his Link hat and tunic first. He marked down the new objective and took the long way home, avoiding the site of the glitch earlier. It probably wasn’t still active, but Winston was by nature wary of everything that had the decency to be more powerful than him, and he couldn’t afford to to lose his progress. He was pretty sure he’d levelled up his Fashion stat at least twice during the encounter. His energy meter was down to nothing by the time he finally reached Chet Street – half walking, half-loping whenever the bar had recovered enough for a short burst of speed. He stumbled into his home gratefully, shucking off his coat and hanging it on the banister. It was too warm inside; if he kept it on, he might take some Fire Damage. Now, all he had to do was find his Link outfit and the Master Sword in his item bank… …It was warm! He looked up, eyes wide in rapturous disbelief. The lights were on. The fridge was humming. And that meant… the power was back. The power was back! His boosted Charisma stat had persuaded even the gods! Winston wept tears of joy. Then he raced up the stairs, jammed his charger back into the wall, and spent the rest of the night five inches from the screen, with a controller in hand and a tub of ice cream. Now one hundred and fifty percent more glam, Winston returns home to complete a Link cosplay. There, he discovers that the power has returned! He immediately reconnects with his lost loves.
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Post by Pixie on Apr 2, 2014 15:58:24 GMT -5
((This is a collaboration with Mostly Harmless (flufflepuff))) Lili was too paralyzed to flinch or mutter a word. The ghost of Anna began to direct her fury and something close to sadism at Lili and the townsfolk. She saw her run after Travis to enact whatever terrible punishment a ghost as capable, and she could understand. He was far from affable. She felt the simultaneous apathy and hate that had been driven from the normally sweet Anna. The corruption was sickening. She was a tragedy, killed for her virtue and turned to vice. Alma scoured the morgue for any signs of fish she may have left behind in the tank that was present. Little ones were difficult to get into the net, but she wanted to occupy her mind with something other than the deaths that were cropping up all over the place. Siddhi didn’t have to be shot… and Ms. Robinson was brave, trying to fight off the mafia and getting him—that was all fine and good, too, better than the executions that were going on. And yet… when Alma had been at the scene, she could still feel her fist in his stomach and his slap on her cheek. She stared numbly and wished it didn’t have to come to blows. Her mind went numb as her thoughts drifted once again to her daughter, as surely as rivers drift to the sea Lili, meanwhile trotted off to the morgue to go find Bardsley. Once there, she hung around the main room for a moment when she noticed that Alma was also there. Alma squinted through the murky water for any sign of a neon tetra, trying desperately to focus. But who should come in but Lili! She sighed in relief. If anyone could provide both a distraction and friendship, it was she. After telling her about the deaths, however, she felt even more hollow and ached for something to do besides searching futilely. Lynna was probably dead, but Alma didn’t want to give up. No, she couldn’t give up. She filled Lili in on what else had happened in the beach before she arrived. Lili felt cross when she heard that Travis had been hitting her around and hitting on her. Especially so when she learned that he had been with Abominal Aifam and that he was a brutal murderer in addition to his other prominent character flaws. She wanted to feel bad for his death too, as she mourned the deaths of Siddhi and Ms. Robinson, when she heard he was ran through with scrap metal, but it wasn't really happening. Even dead, Travis was a veritable villain. Alma noticed that as she talked, Lili looked around the room periodically. It annoyed her slightly that she didn’t seem to be fully invested in the conversation. “What are we looking for?” Alma inquired, trying to get on the same wavelength as her friend. “I like talking to you quite a lot, and I’m listening, but I’m trying to find Mr. Bardsley.” Lili responded. Alma couldn’t recall seeing him at the morgue, though she had been mostly focused on her fish before Lili came in. “I haven’t seen him around.” “Oh. I hope he’s okay. I really need to catch up with him,” Lili declared, fiddling with a large bow on her cardigan. “If he’s not here, I’m not certain of what to do now.” Mrs. Fitzgibbon didn’t want to dissolve in front of Lili again. “Well,” she said, in a voice almost quiet enough to be a whisper, “Do you remember the good old days? Back when the tourists, and us, of course, made this place thrive…?” Why, yes," Lili replied, smiling weakly. "It wasn’t too long ago. There were a lot of tourists to give financial advice to, even if they came in all drunk, and they had futures to be read.The beach was positively stuffed--after this madness, they probably aren't coming back," she said with a sudden realization. She glanced at Alma. Knowing her, she would probably use her for a shoulder to cry on again, which she didn't mind of course, but would like better with a little warning. And indeed, her friend looked distressed enough to repeat either of the actions she had while in Lili's house. "Come on," Lili put a hand on Alma's shoulder. "I know something that hasn't changed too much. It’s as orderly as it ever was, which wasn’t particularly so, however...We can still get our hair done like we used to…you know, for old time's sake." What Lili really didn't want to admit was that she was in need of a little haircut. It been a bit since her last cut, and her hair was getting too heavy to be as flouncy as she liked. Numbly, Alma nodded, not willing to protest. Sending her friend away would definitely cause more trouble for both of them. After all, hadn't Endre said to "not travel alone?" "Sounds good," she said, smiling only a little. "I just hope nothing extreme happens in there. I've heard of that hairdresser a few times before." “Leopold?” Lili responded with a light giggle “Yes, he can be a little odd, but just tell him your limits. He’ll mind them.” They walked in silence to Stop. Glamour Time! and even Alma felt a little sense of foreboding, as if another death would take place very soon. She prayed it was not that of her child. No. They were going to chat and have much-needed girl time and that was final! There was no backing out of this! As if reading her thoughts, Lili rapped on the door… Lili and Alma reflect on recent occurrences, then see each other in the morgue. Alma catches Lili up on what had happened. They think about the past, and decide to got to Leopold's salon and spend some time together getting their hair done.
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Post by Rosalie Dylas (Maddy) on Apr 2, 2014 16:23:59 GMT -5
Try not to break anything. Christopher didn't react to the fact as disembodied voice was talking to them. That was something he was used to. The voice seemed nice. Well, the voice itself was calm and good. The person who the voice belonged to was anyone's guess. But if they worked for Miss Lewis they had to be a good person. The voice told them not to break anything. He never broke anything on purpose but things had the way of getting in front of him and he ran into them and knocked them over and they were broken. It wouldn't happen now that he couldn't really run into things and he could actually SEE if he was walking into things. "Thank you!" he told the voice politely. He wanted to show Pratchett they had no intention of breaking things. Well, he didn't anyway. With Ris it was anyone's guess what her intentions were. Hopefully not breaking things. This was Miss Lewis' studio they couldn't just break things. Breaking things in general was not something that should be done. This was Christopher's first time in a T.V studio. Everything was so new. Since he'd been using his eyes it was one new thing after another. Fish swimming around and around, people he only knew by voice, the sky. The sky was almost scary. It just kept going. Who knew how high it was. And high! High was something Christopher never thought about but now he could see how high something was. He wondered what it would be like to be on a tall building and look down. What would the world look like from up there? He wasn't sure if he wanted to know. The world was so big and bright. It was terrifying but he had began to decide he liked it better than darkness. He wanted to explore. He wanted to see everything in the T.V studio. He also would have loved to feel it but he couldn't do that anymore. He missed touch. He missed touch. He missed it. Was sight worth giving up touch? He hadn't had a choice between the two so now he'd just have to see as much as he could to make up for nothing getting to feel it. He left Ris and Coena. He'd just take a quick look around then come back. He wouldn't go into any locked doors just like Pratchett had said. A door at the end of a hall seemed as good as any. It had some shapes on a little plate next to it. He assumed those were letters. He wasn't exactly sure if he could open doors but at the church he had manged to get out of the small space he had someone ended up in so it was worth a shot. He scrunched up his face in concentration and put his hand around the doorknob. It worked. He could only feel the doorknob a little but he was able to turn it and open the door. That mean it wasn't locked and it would be ok for him to go in there. It was a room filled with strange things. He wasn't sure how to go about describing them.* He wanted to get a closer look. He walked/floated to a thing with three legs. It had something sercured on top of it. He stared into the tunnel at the front of it. It looked like what Miss Lewis had in a way. So it must be a camera! He was looking at it utterly baffled by it when he leaned a bit too close to it. The camera must have not liked a ghost leaning near it or maybe even the slight push of his form was enough to send the camera crashing to the ground taking the three legged thing with it. Christopher just stared at the camera on the floor, broken. Oh no oh no oh no oh no. He slowly left the room, horrorfied. He had broken something. Something important! Oh no. He returned to the entrance. What if Pratchett thought it was Ris and Coena? What if Pratchett couldn't see him or he assumed ghosts couldn't break things? What if Ris and Conea got in trouble. Oh no. "I'm so sorry!" he almost screamed it. If he didn't scream it he would end up mumbling it and then Pratchett wouldn't be able to hear. "I broke the camera I am so sorry." He was going to be in so much trouble. "Christopher, Ris and Coena didn't. I pinkie promise!" Pinkie promise was still sacred to him even if Ris wanted to disregard it. With Ris being Ris Pratchett might think he was lying to cover for Ris and that would be bad because Ris hadn't done anything wrong! It was him! He wasn't even blind anymore! It didn't even have an excuse! He wasn't even sure if being blind even counted as an excuse. It shouldn't. He shouldn't get out of being yelled at because he was blind, it was his fault anyway. Oh no, Miss Lewis was going to be so mad! * It was a room full of spare camera equipment. Christopher doesn't know that because he has never seen anything like it. Christopher decides to explore the T.V station. He accidentally breaks a camera and freaks out.
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Post by Lizica on Apr 2, 2014 17:14:15 GMT -5
Arriving at the edge of Sirensong Beach, Piper saw the Channel 24 van parked and empty. And sure enough, she soon spotted the reporter Cheryl and the cameraman--Shaun? Dilbert? Alfred? Albert!--wrapping up a broadcast. Cheryl was talking on her earpiece, and Piper took a moment to examine Albert's camera. The Channel 24 videocamera seemed quite ordinary. And it noticeably did not have bells or 'Woo pendants on its lens to protect it from ghosts. Piper lifted Snipe Hunt (which jangled) and snapped several photos of their camera. Albert may or may not have been warily glaring at Piper the entire time. "Nice camera," she said awkwardly, after the fact, by way of explanation. Hearing the end of a conversation behind her, Piper was prompted to turn around. "Cheryl Lewis?" she said. "Piper Boudreaux. So I heard that you were able to see ghosts on film? I've been having that problem, too. If you don't mind sharing your secret, can you tell me how you keep them from corrupting your video footage? I accidentally got a shot of the assistant mayor, and it destroyed my memory card's later photo of Webster." As Piper finished wrapping up this inquiry, it occurred to her that she had not actually...physically seen any ghosts, minus the camera blobs. She'd heard them very distinctly, though, right? Flukes and potential saboteurs. She glanced around the area as the crowd continued relaying rumors about the recently deceased. And while she was out here distracted, Webster was out there, digging fake burrows in wait. Soon, Piper thought. Piper finds Cheryl and Albert, takes photos of their news camera, and asks Cheryl how they keep their camera ghost-free.
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Post by PFA on Apr 2, 2014 17:21:06 GMT -5
What they saw when they got back to town hall was... not what they expected to see. Someone had forced open the door—Professor Bardsley was certain he'd told them specifically not to do that, but evidently they weren't listening—allowing everyone to see clearly into the mayor's office. Standing in front of the desk appeared to be (emphasis on "appeared," of course) the ghostly form of Mr. Smith, seemingly guarding the mayor from everyone else's view. However, it wasn't working, as he was still see-through enough for all to see nothing sitting on the desk but... a rock. The woman from the pet store—Ms. Porter, was it?—seemed to be thoroughly frustrated by the situation. Despite the fact that the mayor was apparently nothing more a rock, she shouted at him to take action and help them eliminate the mafias. Professor Bardsley frowned, but decided not to tell her that yelling at a rock wouldn't do any good. She was obviously very frustrated, and he didn't want to make it any worse. Professor Bardsley and the students are stunned to find that the mayor is apparently a rock. Bardsley decides not to tell Melanie that she's yelling at a rock, not wanting to make her any angrier.
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Post by Birdy on Apr 2, 2014 18:08:33 GMT -5
Before the death...Earlier that morning, after the... "Bagel Incident", Hermia had left Merry in the care of her owner, and returned to her room. As she flipped through her datebook, she grimaced. The deadline for getting the latest issue of the Aifam Cove Weekly printed was fast approaching - and she was far behind. She knew she needed to have a In Memoriam section, with the obituaries of all who had died over the past... how many days had it been? Two? Three? She'd already started to lose count - it seemed like the days were getting longer and longer with every passing murder... Time seemed warped somehow. But so many deaths... Hermia's head hurt just thinking about it. Sighing and putting the datebook back in her bag, she gathered a few supplies - notebook and writing implements, as well as a small digital recorder - and placed them inside the bag too. If she was going to be writing obituaries, it would do well to gather some more information about the deceased townsfolk. Personal interviews were hopefully a good start, despite that the wounds from their passing might still be... a bit too fresh. Hopefully sharing some happy memories of them would soften the questions some. The day was still early - she could get a good start, then stop somewhere in town for some lunch. After checking to make sure she had what she needed, Hermia gave her cat a quick petting, then grabbed her coat and slipped out the door, moving quietly so as not to disturb anyone. --- Hermia sat inside the Burger Hut, absentmindedly poking at the half-eaten order of french fires on the table beside her notes. She'd gotten a pretty good start so far - Father Niles had been more than willing to share information about the dearly departed Enna Tweff - and others had been just as helpful. Someone suggested that the Town Hall might have some photographs on archive, that could be used for publication beside the obituaries, and Hermia had thanked them, making a note to stop by there later to get permission to use some. But now... she needed food. Having skipped breakfast (dog slobber not making an appetizing garnish to bagels), she was quite hungry. And as much as Morty Gunderson gave her the creeps, food was food - and the Burger Hut was one of the cheapest places around. As she looked over her notes, the words began to before swim her eyes. Though not far past noon, it seemed like such a long day already. With a shake of her head and a rub of the eyes, Hermia sighed and placed the notes back in a folder, shoving it into her bag. There was no sense in giving herself a headache. She could review these later. Dropping the rest of her uneaten fries into the trash-can on her way out the door, Hermia wondered where to go next. She fished a piece of paper out of her pocket, and glanced at the names on it - the names of those who had died, and beside them, the names of those who might be able to help her with the information she needed. Khiran Chander - Siddhi Khaoti?She'd heard that the latter woman had been able to communicate with the ghost of Khiran, though she had no way to confirm it - other than asking Siddhi Khaoti herself. After checking the address she had for her, Hermia set out down Main Street, but slowed her pace and frowned upon noticing the crowd. What now? she wondered. As she approached, she knew something wasn't right. Someone was hurt - or worse. That gamer - what was his name? - was carrying someone, and-- yes. There was definitely blood. Hermia's mouth dried as she moved closer. But then, someone in a black, hooded cloak disappeared into the crowd, catching the interest of the young man who was now nearly beside her. He paused, looking from the limp from on his shoulder to the fleeing figure, then back at the body. And then... he just tossed it aside. "Gotta go," he said quickly, and sped off.Hermia was shocked. Quickly stepping forward, she started to ask the limp form if they were okay, when her throat constricted. No. They were definitely not okay. The metal... pike? through the man's heart testified of it. But not just any man, but local self-proclaimed TV star Travis Richem. And there was so much blood...Hermia's stomach began to churn, an an odd, sickly feeling swept over her. Frantically looking around, she spotted a trash-can not to far away, and half-sprinted half-stumbled over to it, and not a moment too soon. Ugh. Those fries had definitely been a mistake... Finally the heaving subsided, and - still slightly trembling - Hermia returned to the body. She wasn't the only one. Some other townsfolk lingered near, but most kept their distance. Doctor Lia Stabstrike was not one of them. She bent down next to the body of Mr. Richem, examining the metal sticking out of his chest. As she examined the dead man, Hermia heard whispers throughout the crowd that Mr. Richem had been in the Maifa - the Abominable Aifam. Somehow... Travis Richem being Mafia-aligned didn't surprise her. But what was more, he'd died while trying to kill Doctor Robinson, the local inventor. Hermia closed her eyes, still feeling light-headed. So now there were two more obituaries to write... Upon opening her eyes, Hermia was greeted with the sight of Dr. Stabstrike reaching over and grasping the metal sticking out of Travis Richem's chest, and pulling it out with a squelching sound. Hermia's head spun as the doctor stood up, looked at the metal, then cast it aside. As if it were nothing - as if it had not just been inside a man's chest seconds earlier. Hermia closed her eyes again, silently willing the creeping fuzziness around the edges of her vision to leave, and to take the numbing sensation in her head with it. "Are you alright?" came a voice from beside her. Hermia pried open her eyes and found herself looking at a concerned Dr. Stabstrike. "I..." Hermia started weakly. Was it her imagination, or was everything starting to... tilt? "I..." she tried again, swaying slightly. She swallowed, and tried hard to focus on the woman before her. "I don't feel good..." she finally was able to admit. And then, her vision darkened, and she crumpled to the ground. Hermia decides to be productive and actually do her job. She sets off that morning to see about gathering information about all who have died thus far so she can write their obituaries.
Later, she lunches at the Burger Hut, despite not trusting Morty Gunderson and further than she can throw him. Upon reading her notes until the words begin to swim, Hermia decides to take a break, and after gathering her things and throwing away her uneaten fries, exits the Burger Hut and heads towards the beach.
Upon arriving, she has the dead body of Travis Richem dumped beside her, as Winston Teakes drops it and runs off after some cloaked figure. It is at this point that Hermia's stomach makes an offering to the nearby trash-can god.
Upon completing that, Hermia returns to the body, to find Dr. Stabstrike examining it (or more accurately the metal sticking out of it). Hermia closes her eyes, feeling queasy, and opens them just in time to see Stabstrike remove the metal from the chest of Travis Richem. Unable to take any more, Hermia passes out.
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Post by Avery on Apr 2, 2014 18:14:16 GMT -5
By sunset that night, the morgue had removed the bodies of Travis Richem and ‘Gemma’ from Sirensong Beach and prepared them for autopsy. Siddhi Khaoti’s corpse, however, had oddly disappeared before the morgue could fetch it—much to the unease of the townspeople.
With a nearly full moon gleaming overhead, and fierce winds lashing the sky, Main Street was significantly less crowded than it had been the previous night, when Lindsey Lukas had bled in the town square. Exhausted and heartsick, most of the residents of Aifam Cove instead headed home and tucked into their beds… though first double-checking that their doors were locked, alarms set, and windows snugly shut.
**
A ringing, buzzing phone.
“Tonight?” asked the caller when the other end picked up.
“No, I don’t think so.” A pause. “I—after what happened with that Richem loon and Abominable Aifam… that woman fighting back… I think it might be best to take the night off.”
“Tomorrow, though?”
“Yes, of course.” The caller smiled. “Can’t let them get too complacent, can we?”
**
A separate phone, a separate ring, a separate answer.
“Hello?” said a strained, tired voice.
“It’s me. Are you—how are you doing? I hope you’re holding up okay.”
“We should have never let him handle the knives,” the voice replied softly, laced with regret. “He was too—he was…”
“An idiot?”
“Yes.” A sad laugh. “I didn’t think I’d miss him but…”
“We’ll take the night off. Get a night’s rest, okay? We’ll regroup in the morning.”
“Goodnight.”
**
It was, for Aifam Cove in the wintertime at least, a rather warm dawn. The temperature was closer to the freezing mark than to zero, and the wind was quiet and still. The streets, too, were quiet, everyone holed up in their warm houses, with their heaters whirring away (even the homes and businesses east of the Stalberry-Fork-Jade line had received their power back sometime in the night).
Fella C. Rapture did not care about the warmth or the power.
All he could think about, rather, was that barbecue. Oh, he’d been smelling it for days now: that intoxicating scent of meat, drifting through the wind, just taunting him—and darned if he wouldn’t find it! So as most everyone else in Aifam Cove slumbered soundly, Fella lurked around the town, desperately trying to place the location of that delicious, intoxicating aroma.
An hour after sunrise, he found it.
It was not, as he’d at first hypothesized, coming from that greasy hole of a Burger Hut, nor Sirensong Steakhouse. Rather, it was emitting from… an odd snowy creature that had been built off the road. A snowy person! What fun!
Fella stood in front of the snowman and sniffed it, and his heart swelled with delight when that odor swirled up his nose. Yes, this was it—how droll! With his little claws, he chiseled away at the balls of snow, tearing through them… until beneath them was revealed the blue-faced meat pile, its face still contorted in an entirely panicked expression. The same expression it had worn upon its death two days ago, when it had been gruesomely murdered in the coat closet of a church.
Hm. Fella frowned. He did not like his meat frozen. Still, it was better than nothing. Stomach growling demandingly, he continued swiping away at the snow until the top half of the meat-pile was entirely revealed. And then he leaned it, sharp incisors bared until—
“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!?”
A voice tore through the air, and Fella turned towards it—and found staring at him no other than Morty Gunderson, who’d been on his way to his breakfast shift at the Burger Hut before being sidetracked by this… this abomination.
Funny thing about Morty: while the rest of Aifam had been snoozing last night, he had been—elsewhere. In fact, had driven his car to the next nearest large city and raided its twenty-four hour superstore… the sporting goods and hunting section, to be particular. Just because he’d been so thrilled and inspired by his role in the previous executions of those obvious murderers Lindsey and Anna that he wanted to make sure he was always equipped in the future, should he come across a mafioso.
And this meant that in the messenger bag he now wore over his shoulder, he had a virtual arsenal of weapons: a pistol, three hunting knives, a fishing knife, a nightstick, and… a net launcher.
As Fella’s eyes flicked between the delicious meat sack and the gaping Morty, Morty plunged his hand into the bag and pulled out the net launcher. The cashier had laughed at him for buying it, but he would show her!
“Oh, I’m going to be the hero of this town!” the Burger Hut server announced aloud to no one in particular.
Then he snared Fella in the net.
**
It proved rather difficult to kill the velociraptor: he had abnormally thick skin, sharp claws, and razor-like teeth. The only saving grace for the townspeople was that Fella seemed sort of convinced that this was yet another fun game, and did not resist too much. And by the time he realized that in fact this was not a game at all, well—
Morty Gunderson had fired a bullet in between his eyes.
Entirely convinced that Fella was mafia, Morty smiled proudly at his fellow citizens. “See!” he cried to the crowd. “I found this brute about to DEVOUR the body of poor Christopher! But no more! I bet he was the one stealing the corpses all along—but now that we know what he was doing with them, we can simply investigate all of the snowmen! And at the very least, return the sweet little boy to his cousin so that he may finally have a proper funeral!”
He sure was inspiring, that Morty. The crowd grinned and cheered.
(even though... Fella C. Rapture was an INNOCENT TOWNSPERSON.)
Both mafias will kill next round.
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Post by Draco on Apr 2, 2014 18:15:18 GMT -5
The day before; Jack shifts his eyes around a little. "I... May actually be the mayor. In a way. Not really, but sort of I guess. Maybe?" He floats around thinking a bit. "There were some problems during the last election. The people somehow voted for someone who didn't exist. As the current assistant at the time, I took over his role as Mayor, while playing the role as Assistant Mayor. Over time I just grew more into the role as Assistant then the Mayor itself. So I've been trying to take care of the town ever since." He adjusts his glasses on his ghostly face. "Now with all that has happened, I've been working on filling out paperwork for a future election. As for the currently problems. I have asked people on several occasions to help out and assist in the stopping of the killings. You can see how that turned out. So forgive me for not running around town trying to be more helpful." Jack explains why the Mayor is a rock.
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Post by Diana on Apr 2, 2014 18:55:46 GMT -5
The sun was a grapefruit-colored blotch on the horizon when Winston finally turned off his PS3, blissfully unaware of town archenemy Morty Gunderson’s insatiable bloodthirst, the demise of a poor, friendly velociraptor, and his own name. He groggily stumbled over to his bed and passed out. He had a dream about cake. It was maybe a little past noon when he finally woke up. Aifam Cove’s resident hero yawned, stretched, and stared owlishly in no direction in particular. In Winston’s room, every direction was a vast assortment of games, so the effect was more or less the same. It took him maybe five minutes to muster up the motivation to get out of bed (that motivation being ‘if I stay in bed, I can’t reach my Xbox.’) He rolled over and flopped off the edge of the mattress, making an Agility save to land on his knees. From there, he half-crawled past the chip bags and forgotten game manuals that littered his floor towards his Xbox, jabbed the power button, and sat back on his haunches. Enough of this. Enough of sidequests that didn’t work and weird character models and hair mods and owned pokemon and stupid innkeepers who didn’t understand their own jobs. He wasn’t going to deal with Aifam Cove today. There were other games to play – other quests to complete, other worlds to save, other heroes to be. Winston leaned back against his bean bag chair and watched as Morrowind started up. It was a good day. Winston's had enough of Aifam Cove's poor game design, and decides to play something else for a day.
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Post by Ian Wolf-Park on Apr 2, 2014 19:31:50 GMT -5
Evan was furious when he heard the news that Morty had struck again and killed another townsperson, vigilante style, no thanks to the townspeople who were loudly talking about Morty being their lifesaver. In fact, the normally polite vet actually scared some townspeople when he stormed up to the Burger Hut. Morty had his back turned as he was serving someone, but then turned around and saw Evan, failing to notice the furious look. "Ah, Doctor Parker, what brings you here to this fine establishment?" he asked. In one swift move, Evan had grabbed the server by the collar before slamming him into the nearest wall and held him there with one arm, further scaring the customers. Evan still had Wolf Fang tucked into one of his legs, but was not ready to use it. "MORTY, you stinking son of a devil!" he roared. "What makes you think you can take matters into your own hands and get away with it?" "Look, Doctor, I did the town a favour by denouncing Jack, by denouncing Lindsay, by denouncing Anna, by denouncing Fella, for their actions. We had to do something, otherwise this town would be ruined by these monsters. Wouldn't you agree?" Morty replied, choking slightly under the pressure. "Looks can be deceiving, Morty, but it seems like these killings have clearly clouded your judgement." Evan coldly replied before releasing him. He was about to walk away, but turned around at the last minute. "You know what, Morty, you're the monster yourself." As Evan walked out of the Burger Hut, he had made up his mind that he was going to find Anna and ask her to haunt Morty if she wasn't busy haunting Travis. He also had to let the mayor's office know about this development. Evan is furious that Morty had killed again, so he storms the Burger Hut and gives Morty a severe tongue lashing regarding his actions.
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Post by Lizzie on Apr 2, 2014 19:52:49 GMT -5
It was going to be a lazy morning for Dakota.
After their borderline mental breakdown on the beach, they finally got the bodies to the morgue (minus Siddhi, who they had yet to find). They were prepared for autopsy, though they knew what had happened to them already. Travis's disgusting wound had haunted them all night. They had decided it was good to take mental health days, stay inside all day. Not talk to anyone but themself if they really wanted to, or the tv. Blast Spotify radio and eat pancakes and waffles and foods they never let themself eat.
But then, while Dakota was asleep, they got a call. They didn't wake up. And when they did, they were still laying in bed, hair falling into their face, when they listened to their voicemail.
"They found Christopher's body!" a voice hissed from the other end, "It was inside a snowman, and a velociraptor tried to EAT it!"
Christopher? Dakota's heart swelled. But then, as they began to get excited, a small inkling of a memory appeared, pushing its way through their relief and fear.
"KOTA DON'T LET THEM EAT MY CORPSE," Christopher had screamed, one of the last times Dakota had seen him before he disappeared completely. Days ago? The thought hurt them, made them shudder. Had Christopher really been gone only a few days? It felt... longer. Closer to a month, somehow. The stress from all the bodies falling, right after the other, had left them confused, disoriented. They were losing the concept of time.
Dakota slid out of bed, their feet coming into contact with the cold, hard, smooth ground. A place to stand on. They knew floorboards couldn't die. Couldn't leave them alone for days after being murdered. Floorboards don't speak, scream, or form friendships. Floorboards don't have family. Floorboards, they decided, would be there for them.
Taking the chance to scribble floorboards on a post it, and sticking it on the wall, Dakota mused more about their situation as they got changed. Comfortable clothes, warm clothes. It was another cold morning. But it was time to go. They stepped out into the cold, open air, and made their way to where they had seen the snowmen.
There lay Christopher, cold and blue on the ground. There, also, was Fella C. Rapture.
Dakota practically flew to Christopher's body. They picked it up, cradling it, calming themself like they used to calm him during one of his nightmares. Eventually, they looked to the other body. Fella.
"Uh," Dakota said, looking at a few gathered townspeople, "I don't think... I can do an autopsy on this thing...? Man? Velociraptor."
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Post by Coaster on Apr 2, 2014 20:07:14 GMT -5
BOOM! Headshot!... Boom? Head shot!... Nope, no matter how visceral it was supposed to be, there was really nothing fun about a first-person shooter. Especially when they go all control hax like that. And so, Fella abruptly remembered why he had stopped playing console games. He had half a mind to retaliate with scathing and poorly-constructed misogynistic comments, perhaps a straw political Youtube comment--either one culturally representative in this context--and the other half to philosophize, now that he had so much time with which to do so. Firstly, there was the question of how he was still conscious to begin with. As far as he was aware, velociraptors were not supposed to be ensouled beings, unless he was actually a deinonychus, which would be an entirely different story and still wouldn't explain his balding. Perhaps hair colour takes precedence over species, and most velociraptors, unlike Fella, just have red feathers. Perhaps Fella did have red feathers, but Woo had unknowingly endowed him with a soul when he was rid of them. Regardless, Fella was now relegated to a post in which he could serve no further benefit or hindrance to society. Like he had been unionized, or made an economist, or something. The more vulgar half a mind previously mentioned now turned to figuring out that whole Mafia rumour that everyone'd been talking about, and how it was linked to the nuns putting their uncooked potluck meat all over the town. And he was still no closer to figuring out why that new film company wanted the Aifam slice of cake, not that it strictly mattered now. Besides, he'd almost interrupted one of their most dramatic scenes in their movie, and as quick as critics are to point out velociraptors over human torsos (as his elaborate yet rejected selfie campaign showed him as it failed to get him into Prettyboy), Fella had decided to steer clear, against his better judgement. Now there'd be nobody left to provide employment for his... ...right, he'd left his secretary on the cliff handing out business cards. Maybe unemployment didn't have to be an option. Building Negative Zero was lucrative enough, and maybe the secretary could keep it going, even though the whole film effects thing wasn't his specialty and didn't mesh well with his line of work. At least he'd get to travel with the espionage part. That man always loved to travel. Fella proceeded to the town hall and inquired to the nearest animate being on how one would retroactively write a will. Fella doesn't like first-person shooters and laments his new lack of purpose, as well as wondering how he could become a ghost in the first place. He goes to town hall and inquires of (someone) about how he can retroactively write his will and leave the business to his secretary.
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Post by Tiger on Apr 2, 2014 20:33:47 GMT -5
((Before the execution)) "Cheryl Lewis? Piper Boudreaux. So I heard that you were able to see ghosts on film? I've been having that problem, too. If you don't mind sharing your secret, can you tell me how you keep them from corrupting your video footage? I accidentally got a shot of the assistant mayor, and it destroyed my memory card's later photo of Webster."“Miss Boudreaux – I was hoping to talk to you. Pratchett told me you’d visited but didn’t specify why…I suppose that would explain it.” She pulled her own camera out of her pocket. “You can take a look at this, if you like, but I’m not sure the technology matters – it worked the same way on the news camera. But I haven’t had any trouble with corruption…I have to watch the videos back to hear the ghosts, too.” She looked out at the water, thinking. “Maybe it’s just a simple difference in medium? Photographs can’t contain ghosts…but video can? I haven’t tried taking any pictures. Of course, that wouldn’t make much sense – video is just a rapid series of photographs, when you come down to it.’ She tried to remember the bits about ghosts from the Wafflenet and Netwaffle books, but she didn’t think anyone had tried to photograph them. In Wafflenet, there had seemed to be different kinds of ghosts…except she had recorded and replayed footage with Jack Ryan Smith, so whatever kind of ghost he might be, it wasn’t the film-destroying variety. “It can’t be Mister Smith’s…corporeality. The video I have from earlier played just fine. …When did you get this shot, exactly? And where were you? Maybe the timing or location could explain it?” To be honest, Cheryl wasn’t positive how either would work – but she needed more details than Pratchett or Piper had given her thus far to even try for an educated guess. If Christopher’s still at the studio, maybe he can help us figure this out, Cheryl thought. ------- There was a very loud crash and then, to Pratchett, a very quiet apology. It sounded almost like one of those whisper-shouts, though - that was a little weird. Rubbing forefinger and thumb against eyelids with one hand, Pratchett tapped the button with the other. “Don’t have a heart attack, Chris – that camera was down there for a reason. Just try to be careful of other fragile objects, okay?” Well – that answered the questions Pratchett had about ghosts. …Not exactly unexpected, once the technician had had a little time to think it over. At least the ghosts were audible without a camera – Pratchett couldn’t imagine trying to work with a ghost child while bound by a camera. Not that working with children in general was going to be easy. This office had better be littered in coffee and burger wrappers by this evening, Cheryl.Cheryl blathers talks to Piper about ghosts and cameras, trying to figure out why her recordings work but Piper's photography doesn't. Meanwhile, Pratchett is slightly exasperated.
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Post by PFA on Apr 3, 2014 11:18:49 GMT -5
The students were nervous to go back to school that morning. There had been a lot of deaths—a lot of deaths—in the past few days, and the body count seemed to be growing rapidly. With not just the mafias on the loose, but with how many innocent people had fallen victim to vigilante justice, it left everyone a little on edge. Who was going to be next? And who could you trust in these dark times? Cassidy sighed glumly as she made her way to her class. When the power came back on yesterday, she'd decided to go back to the dorms, where she spent the rest of her day by herself, trying to get her mind off of all the chaos. Eating frozen yogurt and streaming her favorite TV series, it was a good time. However, she knew it wasn't meant to last. She found her mind slipping back to the murders, wondering who was responsible. While she didn't want to send innocent people to their deaths, like that crazy guy from the Burger Hut had taken to doing, these mafias had to be stopped. But how? Before long, she reached her classroom, absentmindedly glancing at the professor. Professor Bardsley. He was well known by the students for his laid back personality; the man never seemed to actually get truly upset, even when it seemed like he should. Today, however, his smile seemed a little... affected. Which wasn't terribly surprising, really—all these recent deaths were more than a little troubling. Nonetheless, Professor Bardsley did his best to maintain his composure, just smiling pleasantly at the students as they walked in. "Good morning, class," he announced, once everyone had settled into their seats. "Now, before we begin, I realize there's been some... concern, over recent events." "That's putting it lightly," Cassidy mumbled. "That said, by request of campus security, I'd like to remind you all to stay in groups whenever possible," Professor Bardsley continued. "Be on the lookout for any suspicious activity, and report any such activity immediately. Follow the safety rules, and use your best judgment to avoid any unfortunate incidents. Most of all... remain calm." He gave a reassuring smile. "Based on my observations, the chances of the mafia striking on campus grounds are very slim. If nothing else, I assure you you can be at ease in this classroom. You are safe here." The students exchanged glances, whispering to each other uncertainly. As much as they wanted to believe him, it was hard for them to feel so confident. I mean, they were talking about the type of people who would kill a blind kid at a funeral. Would they really have any reservations attacking a school? "Now then." Professor Bardsley picked up his teacher's manual, flipping it open. "Let's begin, shall we?" The Prettyboy students are nervous going back to school! Professor Bardsley gives his students some safety tips, and assures them that the chances of the mafia striking on campus grounds are very slim. The students aren't very reassured.
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Post by Celestial on Apr 3, 2014 15:32:05 GMT -5
Before the lynchingIt wad getting late. Lucille could justify spending one night away from the convent but two, two might just provoke some suspicion. She had not announced to the sisters that she was going away on a "trip" and one of them could see her around Aifam, therefore making it even more suspicious. With these mafia murders around, she could hardly afford to attract attention, especially with the town being lynch-happy already. Lucille took the knife she stuffed in her boot and held it in her hand. She got off the horse and gave is reigns to Kylie, at the same time brushing her hand against hers. At the same time, she slipped the knife into the girl's hand. "Kylie," Lucille said, smiling up at the girl. "Stay safe. Stay with your mum if you can't, don't leave her alone. I can't be with you today but rest assured, I'll send the Weewoo to watch over you and I'll be with you as soon as I can tomorrow. Thank you for the ride. Look after yourself. That is for your protection" With that she almost dragged Kylie down and kissed her passionately as long as she could afford before she set off down the beach. It had been far too long since she had checked on her stash. Lucille walked carefully, over rocks and tidal sandbanks, sometimes washing her boots in the surf in order to hide her footprints, until she reached a small, sheltered cave. There was another set of footprints close by, the photographer from town. Lucille was worried the first few times she saw them but the photographer never noticed the alcohol, even when she had gone inside the cove. No, what she always wanted was one thing. An enormous ghost crab clicked its claws as Lucille approached, displaying an aggressive pose. She smirked. "Hello, my guardian angel," she grinned. Digging around in her pockets, she found a small strip of beef jerky and threw it away from the crab, down the beach. It ran after it and immediately began tearing it apart with its sharp claws, clearing the entrance to the cave and allowing Lucille to enter. She liked the crab. It kept away snooping inspectors, reporters and coast guard officials and was far easier to look after than a guard dog. She kept the jerky in her pockets for this very purpose, though she had no idea if the crab actually recognised her or not. Either way, they had figured out a relationship. He guarded her booze and she fed it when she came to visit. Lucille entered and checked over the booze. Everything was intact, there was no sign of any interfering. A note was left for her on one of the crates from her supplier, asking if she could make a date further down the week for a drop off. She would have to reply closer to the time, when this mafia situation would become clearer. With that, Lucille covered the crates in their camoflauge netting again and headed back out, home. After the deathShe could barely sleep and not in a good way either. Lucille lay awake thinking about Kylie and whether the mafia were going to strike again. She was worried, genuinely worried for the girl in a way she had never been worried about anybody before. Lucille never worried in general but she cared for Kylie, in a way that she did not care for anybody else before. The thought of seeing the girl hurt was too much to bear. As a result, Lucille got up annoyed. She avoided the other sisters at breakfast and drank more coffee than was necessary. There were whispers about this unusual behaviour but with the sisters, gossip usually died fairly quickly, being sinful in the eyes of the Weewoo and all. Only The Lord 'Woo could cheep idilly like that. As soon as that was done, Lucille headed into town, towards the Stallion Inn to check on Kylie. However, she did not get that far. Blood covered the snow, though it did not look like human blood. Running up ahead with shivers running down her spine, Lucille soon discovered the source: Fella C. Rapture, the velociraptor which had rather curiously taken up residence in the town. She never questioned it. One of the Holy Trinity was a Weewoo in a santa hat after all and the Lord Woo placed all creatures in their proper time. "Who did this?" she asked around the crowd. And soon got her reply: Morty Gunderson. Always at the centre of it all. Lucille gritted her teeth as she heard this and immediately headed over to Burger Hut, where she knew he worked. It did not take long to find him there. "What the [bleep] are you doing?" she yelled as she pushed her way through the queue towards him. What an idiot! At this time, they had enough to deal with from the mafia without the town turning on itself. Lucille had begged them time and time again not to kill but nobody had listened. She considered taking out her pistol like she did with Travis, but revealing weapons in the Hut would probably be a bad idea. So instead she went with the old-fashioned way: punching him in the nose and then kneeing him in the stomach. "We need to stick together and yet here you are, dividing us! We need numbers in order to overcome these mafia and we can't do that with you stupid [bleep]heads killing us! You're no better than they are!" she shouted and clocked Morty once again, sending him stumbling back before he could even reply. Lucille spun around and delivered a final kick to his jaw, sending Morty plummeting into some nearby tables. It felt good, taking out her bad mood on scum like him. "Only the Lord Woo can take a life but I'm sure he doesn't mind if his servants beat you to within an inch of it." Lucille has to go back to the convent to avoid raising suspicion. She gives Kylie a knife and a passionate kiss before heading down to the beach to check on her stash first. There she feeds the ghost crab that she uses to guard the place and checks over the booze, deciding to hold off delivery until the mafia situation is resolved.
She does not sleep that night worrying about Kylie and thus wakes up in a bad mood. She goes into town and stumbles upon the lynching. She finds out Morty was behind it again and Lucille gets mad at Morty for dividing the town. She tracks him to Burger Hut and there kicks his butt.
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