Active [On the Border of the See and Widersia, as Far South of Clockhaven as the River Goes] - The Phantasmagoria Opens

[IanThe170]

Lialeth Vianno

​

It appeared that Decimus could confirm her idea of teleportation. However, the idea was starting to leave a bad taste in her mouth. If the crystals in the hotel and its perimeter did not pick up anything strange, they may potentially be dealing with a powerful mage or perhaps the girls carried around an artifact of some sorts that enabled them to be teleported away. Assuming they were of course and it was not, but a temporary illusion in the area or even just pure invisibility cast upon them, whilst they were getting kidnapped. There was also the very minor chance that the girls themselves chose to teleport, but Lialeth wondered if there would be any way to actually prove such.

If nothing else, her suspicions of one thing were confirmed. Hurting oneself may very well be a common thing in this city. That or physically assaulting someone. It was hard to judge with Mr. Limestone as an example, but she would try to keep that in mind.

It seems room 348 would be their next target. So she took the key that was given to them by Mr. Limestone. "Thank you and I wish you luck on the search through the crystals!"

There was one thought clouding Lialeth's mind, however. The extravagance of the hotel. She had seen extravagant places before, but it felt off. The girls were just some common folk, or so she was led to believe. Would they really be able to pay for all this? Or, potentially, more accurately, could their parents afford this? A week long stay in a hotel like this? Whilst also enjoying festivities all week round?

Admittedly, she did lack some common sense, especially in regards to money and valuables, seeing as she only had her dress to her name currently. But even so. She decided to ask Decimus for some confirmation, whilst they were in the elevator. "Mr. Valerius, how expensive do you imagine the hotel stay would be here for a week? Along-side frivolous spending in a festival such as this? I may be wrong, but it is hard to imagine most common people being able to afford something like that. It may have been possible with a fair bit of saving where I was from, but here it just seems... Doubtful... They'd surely have had to save up a fair bit of coin, no? There would also be the travel expenses..." Lialeth started to wonder about the possibility of loans being involved here.

Once they'd make it to the room, she would naturally enough, unlock it and proceed to move inside.

 

[Maxxob]

Decimus Valerius

Spoiler: Minions

Titles: [Human - Mundane], [Native], [Military Cadet F] - Widersia - Color #a13a3a
Language Keys: "..." - Common ; "[...]" - Terran

Mephisto IanThe170

When Mr. Stone casually mentioned having already analyzed the other crystal balls and finding nothing unusual, Decimus responded with a low, contemplative hum, giving Lialeth the silent cue to verify the claim. His own attention, however, was drifting elsewhere, settling on Mr. Lime, the more animated half of the grotesque duo.

He observed the peculiar sight of Mr. Lime greedily stuffing his mouth with candy, snagged right from the body of his stitched-together counterpart. It was an unsightly display, a childish and grotesque indulgence that seemed out of place even for such a strange creature. What a hellish existence it must be, Decimus mused, to be shackled to such a gluttonous, undisciplined partner. But as the creature's sticky fingers worked, something else caught his eye—the emblem on the candy wrappers.

The same cartoonish black stag skull he’d seen before, at the hotel counter and emblazoned across the posters for both the Night Parade and the Twilight Carnival. The recurrence of the symbol piqued his curiosity. Was this the brand of a confectionery tied to the events? Or perhaps a more deliberate association, some kind of sponsorship or signal? Either way, it was unusual. “Say…” Decimus’ voice broke through the room, cutting through the awkward, candy-fueled silence as he pointed an index finger at Mr. Lime, who was still reeling from the harsh strike delivered by Mr. Stone. “... where exactly does one get those candies with the black stag symbol on them?”

His question was simple, but the gaze behind it was sharp, searching for any flicker of reaction. The answer, whatever it might be, would help him draw a line between the pieces of this puzzle. Still, he already had the next step in mind—the room where the Morton girls had stayed, 348. As they moved back through the opulent hall of the hotel, Decimus’ eyes swept over his mechanoid troops, still standing sentinel, their polished visors reflecting the dim lights. “[Follow me.]” The command, crisp and precise, echoed through the lavish surroundings, the wordless promise of action.

The constructs responded instantly, their mechanical limbs moving with a synchronized efficiency, each step producing a sharp, metallic clank that reverberated off the marbled floors. The sound was a stark contrast to the serene luxury of the hotel, like gears grinding through silk. As they proceeded toward the room, Lialeth brought up a topic that had been lingering in the back of his mind.

“So, you noticed too.” Decimus glanced over, acknowledging her observation with a nod, his eyes narrowing in thought. “It’s possible the girls aren’t royalty, but they may come from money. Widersian industrialists, perhaps. Some of them have pockets as deep as any noble family.” His tone was contemplative, but there was a weight behind it, a sense of the world he’d seen. “That might explain how they could afford to stay here for a week. But…” He paused, taking a long, deliberate drag from his smoking pipe, the warm glow briefly lighting up his features. As he exhaled, a thin ribbon of smoke curled lazily into the air, dissipating around him. “... loan sharks might have been what enabled them.”

The insinuation lingered, as the wisps of smoke did, the idea that these girls might have been entangled in something darker, something that had drawn them into the shadows. And if that was the case, they might be dealing with more than just a straightforward disappearance.

 

[Mephisto]

Current Location: Room 348

Current Time: approximately noon

Countdown Until the Night Parade: three days
​

---

Mr. Lime would gladly tell Decimus the answer he sought concerning the chocolates. A candy shop not far from the hotel was extremely popular throughout the holidays. Its most popular delicacy - as well as the one most favored throughout all of Red Haven - was the cartoonish stag skull design. He even made mention of the reason why they were shaped that way.

"It's an urban legend around these parts... Smiling Jack is his name. He stalks the streets late at night, swaddled in shadows as thick as black robes. There's a song that he sings as he goes along, too. I... can't remember the words. Don't want to neither. Some folks say if you sing it too loud when the sun goes down, Smiling Jack follows you home and steals you before sunrise. To where, no one knows,"

Although he seemed unsettled by his own story, Mr. Lime quickly returned to his characteristic and malicious grin. He did not absorb the terror as one would from physical harm or threats. He drank it, knowingly and unashamedly. The water of horror kept his muscles slick. It thinned his blood. It kept his heart pumping. Someone as unsavory as Mr. Lime certainly had his share of quirks and abnormalities. Yet he knew that the stories about Smiling Jack possessed some measure of the awful truth... perhaps too much of it.

---

Soon the investigators were on their way. The Ivory Keys, as a building, held a bizarre sense of architecture. Though the outside design contained such elements as coiling Gothic details, baroque meanderings of artists long retired or dead, often topped within the corners and crowned upon the high conical spires with fantastical stone depictions of chimeric beasts, the innards of the property seemed barren. Though not bereft of life, the hallways were monotone and extended in a straight line all the way down. Rooms flanked the deep red carpets. Black and gold wallpaper obscured the bright lanterns. Rich oil paintings of various masteries lined the wider portions of the hallway walls between every pair of doors.

Fields of red flowers.

Black shapes dancing in a forest clearing.

Gold eyes lingering somewhere in the dark.

These were some of the recurring instances. Many more beside were of note, though the investigators would have to find them... or be found by them. For now, they seemed fixated on narrowing the gap on the mystery ahead of them. So, they found Room 348. The key fit with a slight objection, clicking and clanking within the lock after a solid turn. The mechanisms inside tumbled.

The black door creaked open. It would be at this moment that the investigators would notice that there was no other sound coming or going throughout the section of the hotel they inhabited. The music, of course, haunted their footsteps the entire time. But nothing else did. The voices they heard from the lounge area were long gone, phantoms of guests in other parts of the hotel having gone about their business.

Upon entering the room, they would be greeted with the light switch. Favorable, to be sure, but the space was already slightly illuminated by the cracks in the curtains on the other side of the centermost area. They would have to walk through the kitchen and bath area to access the main seating arrangements, but even at a glance the extravagance of it all could not be understated. The appliances were obsidian Widersian imports. Each piece of furniture was made locally, a combination of Widersian craftsmanship and Fae dramatic flair.

The investigators would also notice that the RHPD had not gotten this far in the case. They seemed to have abandoned it, leaving the Morton girls' belongings where they sat. Perhaps they meant for the parents to come and collect what remained of their children once the case grew cold. If anything, Detective North wanted to prevent this by keeping it as alive as possible - even with the help of what served as guild mercenaries. It became obvious he had no choice. The RHPD, his very own place of employment, couldn't be bothered to lift a finger for these poor girls.

If the investigators wanted to try their hand at looking through the luggage and memorize the surrounding area, now was their best opportunity.

 

[IanThe170]

Lialeth Vianno

​

Despite the fact that Laileth had expected some measure of importance to the mascot of the festival, she most certainly did not think it would have such a horrid background. Which was made even more horrid, by the fact that Mr. Lime seemingly really believed it and was actually disturbed by it. Despite that, it did give her an idea of what to try after they were done investigating the hotel. Singing the song as the sun goes down. Although, she would need to obtain the lyrics for it first.

After getting some confirmation from Decimus about the possibility of loans being involved, it seemed that much more likely that it wasn't just a random kidnapping. In the first place, now that they had seen the crystal ball footage, whoever did this clearly knew what they were doing. It was almost definitely premeditated. "Based on what the detective mentioned, it did not appear that they would be particularly rich, but I suppose they could simply be trying to lay low, so to say... Although, I do believe they would have attempted to hire someone specifically for the job if they were wealthy."

They still had to figure out how it all connected. Was it possible that Killer Carl was a loan shark? And perhaps he knew or even was the alternate identity of Smiling Jack? The more information Lialeth was provided, the more overwhelmed she felt by the situation, she understood quite well just how out of depth she was here, especially when coming to terms with just how she was, almost incapable of not taking things at face value. Regardless, she had to keep a somewhat clear mind here and focus on the task at hand, whilst trying to stuff down whatever may cloud her judgment.

Going through the hotel felt like a rollercoaster ride really. She had never really understood painted art. Despite what emotions may be portrayed in them, in her eyes paintings were no more than just a pretty picture. However, that opinion was slowly changing. Lialeth could not ignore the downright creepiness of the paintings that seemingly just watched them... It certainly sent shivers down her spine, whenever they passed paintings such as those.

Once they entered Room 348, she was unfortunately distracted yet again, mainly by the sheer extravagance of the room. As someone who had not been born in this world, it was difficult to actually appraise the room, but based on the visual presentation alone, it seemed quite impressive. Though she did find it strange that the room seemed messy. Almost as if left untouched, but decided to not think about it too much, as the RHPD must have done their best, with the resources available to them. Besides, this did make the investigation slightly easier as well.

"I suppose I will check their luggage then..." She did so with both the intention of finding anything that may look to be of relevance to the festival, whether it be receipts, a travel guide or even a diary, but also to shield Decimus to some extent from having to rummage through the belongings of teenage girls. She would also try to search the bed thoroughly just in case the girls themselves had hidden anything, whether it be under the sheets, pillows or even under the bed and mattress.

 

[Maxxob]

Decimus Valerius

Spoiler: Minions

Titles: [Human - Mundane], [Native], [Military Cadet F] - Widersia - Color #a13a3a
Language Keys: "..." - Common ; "[...]" - Terran

Mephisto IanThe170

Decimus made a mental note both about the candy shop which sold the chocolate he inquired about and also about the legend of Smiling Jack. Showing no outward reaction to the story, the old veteran didn’t seem to be taken by the creepy factor of it. In fact, he was quite a bit skeptical about it, thinking it was nothing more than some urban horror story. A part of him, however, felt the sheer curiosity of obtaining the lyrics and singing it, just to see what would happen.

And, as Lialeth expanded the discussion about the financial situation of the Morton girls, Decimus fell in contemplation for a moment, dissecting each one of her words. Eventually he would nod, making sense that, if their family were rich, they would rather hire private investigators to get the girls back. There was no shortage of bounty hunters and adventurers to get things done, after all.

While traversing through the hotel to get to room 348, the shift of style was perceptive even to someone as artistically inept as the old veteran was. Ashen eyes darted between paintings and details, not sure what to make of them. Yet, the dying down of other sounds aside from the persistent and constant music was noted by him, even if he did not think much of it.

When they got to the room which the girls had been staying, Decimus was the very last one to enter it, after Lialeth and the five mechanoids had already made their way inside of it. One could never be too careful, after all. Inside of it, his gaze quickly darted through the insides of the kitchen, bath and bedroom, making a surface-level scanning of what there was in there.

“That would be for the best.” The old veteran quickly answered Lialeth, the Fae having coming to the correct conclusion that he would rather to sift through their belongings. And, as much as he wanted to tell the mechanical soldiers under him to aid in the search, he doubted the man-made mechanoids would have the mental acumen for such a task. With that, he contented with memorizing the surrounding area, going to the windows and peeking through the curtains.

 

[Morgaine Kri Chya]

Name: Lona Morgan
Character Sheet
Titles: [Human - Mundane]
Language Keys: "..." – Common
Text Color: #00CED1
​

Previously:

Spoiler

The soft crackling of the hearth filled the cozy cottage, its warmth spilling into every corner of the room. Lona sat on a woven chair by the fire, absently running her fingers over a small wooden box of herbs she had been sorting earlier. Across from her, the old woman sat, her weathered hands resting lightly on her lap, eyes twinkling with a faraway look as she spoke.

"I remember those days," the old woman began, her voice warm but tinged with nostalgia. "Red Haven wasn’t always so suffocating with industry. There were still pockets of beauty, even if they were shrinking under all that iron and smoke, and don’t get me started on the crime… The festivals were always a wonder, though, and the stories that came with them!" Her eyes softened as she turned to Lona. "You could learn a lot there, you know. I do believe the Twilight Carnival should be soon."

Lona smiled, her eyes still down on her hands as she picked out a few useless twiggy bits to throw in the fire. "I haven’t been to a carnival since I was a child. I wouldn’t know where to begin."

The old woman chuckled, shaking her head. "You’ve spent far too long cooped up here with me in this cabin, surrounded by nothing but trees and herbs. There’s a whole world out there, Lona, one that could teach you more than these walls ever could."

Lona met her gaze and tilted her head, curious. "What are you suggesting?"

The woman leaned forward - her voice gentle but firm. "I have some savings set aside. We can charter passage on one of the merchant ships to Red Haven. It’ll cover your room, food, and maybe even a little something fun while you’re there. A week or two won’t hurt, the Twilight Carnival, and festival activities there will be fun. Besides, it’ll give you the chance to see something new, especially sandwiched between Magic and Industry. You’ve got skills, Lona, but they need refining. And you won’t get that stuck here in the woods."

Lona opened her mouth to protest, but the woman raised her hand, silencing her.

"And don’t you worry about me. A home will be here for you when you get back," the old woman said, rising slowly from her chair and walking over to a small drawer. She pulled out a simple brass key, worn with age, and held it out to Lona. "Take this. Don’t forget to lock the door when you leave. But..." her voice softened, almost as if she was speaking to herself now, "you should go see more of the world, if you want to understand it."

Lona hesitated before reaching out, her fingers closing around the key. The weight of it felt heavier than it should have. "I... I don’t know what to say," she whispered.

"You’ll say you’ll go," the woman replied, a faint smile on her lips. "And that you’ll make the most of it."

The fire crackled softly as Lona turned the key over in her hand, her mind racing with the possibilities. The offer felt generous, too generous, and she looked up at the old woman, gratitude swelling in her chest. "I will," she said, breaking into a chuckle at the woman’s relentlessness, and gazing back down at the key. "I’ll go. Thank you... for paying for all of this. I promise I’ll make it worth it."

But the room was silent.

Lona’s heart skipped a beat.

“Gaia?”

She blinked and looked around, her eyes scanning the cottage. The old woman was no longer there. The chair across from her was empty, the space filled only with the quiet crackling of the fire and the faint scent of herbs.

She stood slowly, the key still in her hand, staring at the empty chair. There was no sign of the old woman—no movement, no sound, no explanation. Just the stillness of the room, as if she had never been there at all.

Lona swallowed, a strange mixture of comfort and unease settling over her. She turned and began packing her things, her movements deliberate, though her mind was clouded with questions. The silence stretched on, but one thing was clear: she would go. The old woman’s words lingered, echoing softly in the corners of the room.

A home will be here for you when you get back.

“Thank you.”

Summary of Passage:

Lona's benefactor urges her to visit Red Haven and experience the atmosphere and festivals so that she may broaden her horizons, and possibly her skills. She offers to pay for the trip and gives Lona a key, telling her to lock the cottage before leaving. Lona agrees, but when she turns to thank her, the woman is gone, leaving her alone with her decision.

Lona’s journey on the ship was far from idle. While on board, she slyly slipped apples from the galley—nearly spoiled but just right for her purpose. She used her knowledge to rapidly ferment them into cider, sharing it with the crew. "Just a little something to lift your spirits," she'd say with a wink, earning grateful smiles and a humble pocketful of extra coins from their tips.

As the sailors gathered, Lona quizzed them about where they were from and the different lands they’d seen. "Ah, wait til you see the airships in Widersia!" one sailor mused. "No, she should see about riding in one of those Steamwork Supercars!" Another chuckled, "The See's a place of magic... it’s like the air’s alive." Lona soaked up their stories, mentally mapping the world through their travels.

When the ship finally docked in Red Haven, one sailor suggested the Ivory Keys. "It’s perfect for the season. I think you’ll like it!" Lona thanked him, inwardly marveling at how out of place she must look, a country bumpkin after months of rustic living, and was glad for having left her sickle at home. She glanced at her simple apparel, aware of how it clashed with the bustling, industrial city. But as she took her first steps toward the Ivory Keys, she smiled, —Yes, it was time to explore.

She opened the door to the lobby of the Ivory Keys and tentatively, called out into the grand room.
"Hello? I was going to see about checking in to a room?"
Her words echoed slightly in the spacious lobby, making her feel even smaller in the vastness of it all.

 

[Mephisto]

Players: Lialeth and Decimus

Current Location: Room 348

Current Time: approximately noon

Countdown Until the Night Parade: three days...
​

---

As Lialeth approached the luggage, seemingly left abandoned where it lay for the last time three days ago, she would hear a distinct noise. It started low, working its way to a rumbling tremor. Then, as she got closer, it reached a crescendo of curious - yet cautious - trills and meows. A cat as solid black as night emerged from one of the pieces of luggage, its bright yellow eyes glancing from Lialeth to Decimus. It tilted its head and sighed.

"Oh, how bothersome. More cops? I told you once already, the girls will be back soon. There's no reason to move their belongings into an evidence closet - especially since I'm the one guarding them!"

The cat huffed angrily, scowling as it cleaned itself. Beyond it, the suitcases were empty. One was obviously Lydia's, with a Skeleton Crew keychain - it was a skull with a mohawk, fashioned after the lead guitarist Jason Graves. The other had a keychain of a jolly roger pattern with a unicorn head as the focal point above a pair of crossed rainbow swords - this was Alice's. The cat stretched as the standoff continued, turning from slightly annoyed to yawning.

"Look, if you want to snoop around some more then be my guest. The luggage is mine, though, so don't touch it... or else!"

It brandished a paw full of wicked claws, sending its bell collar into a jingling frenzy.

---

Player: Lona

Current Location: the Ivory Keys lobby

Current Time: approximately noon

Countdown Until the Night Parade: three days! Weeeee!!
​

---

It would not be a creature of flesh and blood that greeted the newcomer to the hotel. Instead, a shadowy amalgamation of limbs resembling a humanoid shape waved its long arm towards her, gesturing her to come closer with wordless gasps. It welcomed her with exasperated displays of carefree joy and whispers of something resembling a question. Whether or not this was purely the ambient background noise of the hotel, however, none could ascertain.

It somehow knew that Lona wanted a room, based on her body language and personal belongings. It struck up a single finger as if to say "eureka!" and shambled in a circle, grasping a key in its web of smoky fingers. The material clattered gently as it lowered the device onto the countertop. The main panel of the instrument read as plain as day:

"Room 348".

The shadow nodded approvingly and pointed at the elevator, bowing its head courteously as Lona would be swept up in the excitement of the extravagance surrounding her. It vanished without so much as a wisp to leave behind. Meanwhile, the baroque majesty of the lobby itself felt alive and pulsating, a buzzing environment of music and lights that few other places could match in its entirety. The elevator dinged as it reached the ground floor, perhaps sent there automatically by virtue of good manners. All Lona had to do was step inside and find her new accommodations.

 

[IanThe170]

Lialeth Vianno

​

As Laileth made her way towards the luggage, a noise started becoming audible in the room, the sound of shuffling and rumbling as something made its way out of the luggage. A black cat. It was exactly even close to the weirdest thing she'd seen today, but she did become slightly more sad due to the thought of potentially no one feeding the cat, at least up until it started talking to them. "R-really? Do you know where they might be then?" She decided to ask, since the cat was clearly more informed than them, seemingly.

Although Lialeth did not notice immediately, she did take note of the fact that even their belongings were gone, suitcases were just empty. Whilst she had a lot of questions for the cat, she decided to hold off on asking any further questions, since it truly did seem like it is just common sense to be rude and confrontational in this town. Hence, Lialeth would walk up to the cat and try to pick it up by its nape. "Please don't threaten people, that is no way for a healthy conversation to progress..!"

 

[Maxxob]

Decimus Valerius

Spoiler: Minions

Titles: [Human - Mundane], [Native], [Military Cadet F] - Widersia - Color #a13a3a
Language Keys: "..." - Common ; "[...]" - Terran

Mephisto IanThe170 Morgaine Kri Chya

Decimus had been by the window, looking whatever activity could be happening at the street level. Ashen eyes wandering around, seeing if there was anything out of the ordinary to be seen. However, his attention was piqued by something within the very room they were in.

Turning around to where Lialeth was conducting her search, the old veteran began hearing some sort of noise coming from the pile of scattered belongings. With narrowing eyes, he held his breath, having no idea of what to expect.

However, as the midnight-like cat was revealed to them, he appeared to relax. Even with the fact that it was a talking cat. “And how can you be so sure that they will be back?” The military man approached the pile of objects in which the creature made its fort, heavy footsteps with precise cadence between them, almost like a march.

If Lialeth was successfully in grabbing the feline, Decimus would quickly snatch both briefcases, bringing them away from the animal. And, without wasting them, would start feeling their interior, searching for any hidden compartment that they might have.

 

[Morgaine Kri Chya]

Name: Lona Morgan
Character Sheet
Titles: [Human - Mundane]
Language Keys: "..." – Common
Text Color: #00CED1

| Maxxob | IanThe170 | Mephisto |​

As Lona stepped into the grand lobby, her eyes widened in wonder. The sheer extravagance of the Ivory Keys was beyond anything she could have imagined. The polished floors gleamed beneath her feet, reflecting ornate chandeliers that cast warm, golden light across the rich, baroque details of the room. It felt alive, humming with an energy she hadn’t felt in ages—a place that seemed to breathe alongside its guests. What was that sound, guests talking, music? Both? It was nearly a sensory overload but she was too swept up in the wonder of it to be bothered.

Her breath caught, not from fear—rather, a sense of awe that stirred something within her. She wasn’t kidding, Lona thought. There’s so much to see …

She was still absorbing the surroundings when she noticed the figure. It wasn’t a bellhop or a clerk, but a shifting shadowy presence that seemed to form and reform into a vaguely humanoid shape. Lona tilted her head, intrigued. She couldn’t help but smile at the figure’s exaggerated gestures, almost like a playful performer.

“Well, hello there,” she greeted, curiosity bright in her eyes.

The shadow figure seemed to understand her intent without words. When it struck a finger in the air, mimicking a moment of inspiration, Lona let out a soft laugh. “Indeed,” she said, feeling a rush of excitement at this strange encounter. The creature twirled gracefully, producing a key that it gently set on the countertop.

“Room 348,” Lona read aloud, her voice filled with appreciation. She reached for the key, and the creature nodded approvingly, gesturing toward the elevator. “Thank you!” she said sincerely, marveling at how effortlessly the creature conveyed its intentions.

As the figure disappeared, Lona felt a thrill run through her, the hotel’s ambiance adding to the sense of wonder. The music seemed to float around her, and the décor, with its intricate carvings and luxurious fabrics, felt like something out of a dream. She couldn’t help but admire the decadence of the ambiance. The elevator arrived with a soft ding, and Lona saw her reflection in the polished doors. Her less than tidy curly copper hair, rustic and worn clothing, and the faint scent of herbs clinging to her skin, hair and clothes as it constantly emanated from her possessions – it all felt like pieces of another life. Oh lady, you are a hot mess – but at least a happy one, she thought with an amused grin, but she felt no embarrassment—only a growing excitement to see what was next.

~

“Three Forty-four,” she read softly, “Three Forty-five… Three Forty-six, Three Forty-seven…” She paused, drawing out the last number as her dark eyes shifted to look at Room 368. “Three Forty—oookaaay…”

The scene that greeted her made her freeze in place, jaw dropping in silent bewilderment. Standing tall in the middle of the room was a man, with a commanding presence, surrounded by five, armed constructs from which steam coiled upwards into the air. The mechanoids’ metallic bodies were unlike anything she had ever seen, their visors glowing faintly blue in the dim light. They held weapons, ready and at attention, as if expecting a command. Lona’s eyes widened at the sight, her mind racing to process what she was seeing. What..in..the..world? she thought, barely daring to breathe.

As she continued to stare, her gaze drifted lower, noticing a woman in a blue dress who was near some luggage. Lona’s confusion deepened - she felt as though she had stumbled into the middle of something important. Then, she saw it—a sleek black cat, crouched protectively near the luggage, a paw raised in clear warning and the bell on its collar jingling.

She instinctively crouched down, still in the doorway, and raised her hands with palms open, as if to show she meant no harm. She scrunched her nose with a playful smile, her voice soft and lilting. “Oh my, who’s looking fierce and sleek?” she cooed, her tone turning warm and cheerful. “You are absolutely gorgeous, yes you are!”

 

[Mephisto]

Crowley

Occupation: imaginary friend, soul guardian, and traveling companion to Alice and Lydia Morton

Height: 11" at the shoulder

Weight: 13 pounds

Languages: Common (spoken as "..."); Fae (spoken as "{...}")

Text Colors: #Fdfd96

| IanThe170 | Maxxob | Morgaine Kri Chya |
​

---

"Of course I know where they are!" the cat wriggled and writhed in Lialeth's grasp, the firm grip of the nape of his shiny neck keeping him from moving too violently. "Let me go and I'll tell you,"

He half-relied on what he sensed to be Lialeth's own good nature and closed the gap himself with a few well-placed and swift movements. He wormed his way out of her hand and plopped back on the headboard of the couch, licking his paw as he did so.

"Oops! So sorry, I seem to have suddenly forgotten~" he chuckled, evading other methods of capture and hopping from the sofa to one of Decimus' automatons.

"But honestly, it's rude to fumble around in other people's possessions! Silly soldier man,"

Decimus would find nothing of note - or really, anything at all - thus making the cat immediately more suspicious the further he played with them. He landed on the kitchen counter and sat down with every intent on explaining things his way. His bright yellow eyes gleamed like moonlight in the dusk and dark of the dreary room.

"As far as the girls returning, that requires a little more than what I'm telling you," he snickered. "My name is Crowley. I'm what you would call a sentient spell, a pocket dimension on legs,"

The demonstration he offered started with unsheathing a single claw and tapping his bell. The smooth fur on his right flank became a swirling patch of magic, which automatically produced a fishy prize. He smirked as he earned himself a juicy, greasy sardine. He chomped it bit by bit, eyeing the investigators carefully as he ate. The portal dissipated immediately after he retrieved what he wanted.

"I was," he began, speaking through bites. "Conjured up by the Morton girls when they were very young... and have stuck by their sides ever since," he finished the meal - spongy bones and all - with a sigh.

"The last order they gave me was to watch the room while they were gone, and here I am,"

He puffed out his chest proudly, but flinched when someone else - namely Lona - made themselves apparent. His puffy tail quickly flattened once she gave him compliments, however.

"Oh hello there! About time someone appreciates all the work I put into this coat~" he jumped from the counter to purr against her legs.

"Besides, I contain parts of their souls. They're still alive. Locating them precisely is an entirely different matter,"

Crowley leaped back onto the counter and laid down, crossing his forelimbs and tilting his head between the investigators and the new arrival. Something was bothering him about her sudden appearance but he didn't ask just yet.

 

[Maxxob]

Decimus Valerius

Spoiler: Minions

Titles: [Human - Mundane], [Native], [Military Cadet E] - Widersia - Color #a13a3a
Language Keys: "..." - Common ; "[...]" - Terran

Mephisto IanThe170 Morgaine Kri Chya

Decimus let out a weary sigh, his expression barely shifting as he listened to the admonishments from the black cat perched nearby. It was clear that Crowley, with his twitching tail and bemused eyes, wasn't pleased about the old soldier rummaging through the Morton girls' seemingly empty briefcases. “Rude or not, there is a kidnapping that must be solved,” Decimus replied, his tone calm and resolute, as his gloved hands continued their meticulous search. He probed the interior of each briefcase, fingers tracing the lining, checking for false bottoms or hidden compartments, but after a few minutes of effort, he found nothing.

Accepting the lack of results, Decimus let the briefcases slip from his grasp and straightened his back, his steely, ashen eyes now fixed on the talking feline. He took a deliberate drag from his smoking pipe, letting the smoke curl lazily around him, almost as if trying to mask the disappointment of the fruitless search. The mechanical constructs in the center of the room remained motionless, their photoreceptors casting a steady blue light over the scene. They hadn’t reacted to Crowley’s unexpected chatter, nor even when the cat had brazenly jumped onto one of them. Programmed for obedience and precision, they were oblivious to the absurdity unfolding before them.

Dealing with a 'witness' that resembled a household pet was far from ideal, especially one as capricious and playful as Crowley. Decimus’ military mind found it hard to take such a creature seriously, yet it seemed there was no avoiding this peculiar interrogation. Still, when the black cat casually produced a fish from within his own body, like a living, breathing dimensional pocket, Decimus’ brows furrowed. It was a bizarre display, even by the veteran’s standards, and he exhaled a slow stream of smoke from the corner of his mouth, his eyes narrowing.

“Are the Morton girls well-versed in magic, then?” Decimus asked, the question laced with a probing curiosity. “Or are you the only magical trick they’ve managed so far?” He needed to know—if the girls were skilled in the arcane, their sudden disappearances from the recordings might not be the result of an abduction, but a calculated act of teleportation. Perhaps, they had vanished by their own design, slipping out of sight through means most others couldn’t even comprehend.

“If they haven’t been kidnapped…” Decimus left the thought hanging, trailing off as he considered the implications. If the girls had orchestrated their own disappearance, then why? What were they trying to achieve? The investigation was becoming more complex, the line between victim and perpetrator increasingly blurred. And then there was the matter of Officer North. “…Curious how Officer North didn’t mention anything about a talking cat in the girls’ room, nor any sign that he’d conducted a proper search.” Decimus crossed his arms, the furrows in his brow deepening. Was this a case of negligence, or was there something more insidious at play? “Lialeth, best to take whatever this creature says at face value.”

Just as he finished, the door to the apartment creaked open, drawing his attention sharply. Decimus’ eyes snapped to the entrance, his body instinctively shifting into a more guarded posture. The figure that stepped in was a woman with curly, copper-colored hair and freckles dotted across her face. She looked out of place, unexpected, and he raised an eyebrow, scrutinizing her for a few moments before speaking.

“We certainly weren’t expecting a visitor. Who might you be?” His voice was cool, calm, and edged with a hint of suspicion, as if daring her to explain why she had appeared without warning. The mechanoids, still standing sentinel, subtly repositioned, their silent readiness echoing Decimus' own vigilance. As he awaited her response, he took another drag from his pipe, the ember flaring momentarily, reflecting the quiet intensity in his eyes.

 

[Morgaine Kri Chya]

Name: Lona Morgan
Character Sheet
Titles: [Human - Mundane]
Language Keys: "..." – Common
Text Color: #00CED1
| Maxxob | IanThe170 | Mephisto |​

“Of course,” Lona replied to the black cat, a gentle shoulder-scritch offered with her free hand as it purred against her legs before jumping away. “You’ve earned it.” She’d answered it aloud, immediately, before her brain caught up to the fact that yes, it actually spoke and it wasn’t just her anthropomorphizing feline body language. A talking cat, she marveled inwardly, barely containing her surprise. But then again, this place had already been filled with enough strangeness for her to simply accept it, even if she couldn’t hide the astonishment from her features.

”…Who might you be?”

Lona blinked, caught off guard by the sharp voice from the center of the room. She straightened up from her crouch near the door, realizing she had walked into something far more serious than she’d anticipated.

“I—uh,” she began, quickly pulling herself together. “I’m Lona, Lona Morgan.” Her voice was steadier now, though she felt the weight of the man’s gaze on her. His presence, along with the mechanoids standing sentinel around him, filled the room with a palpable tension. “I was just looking for my room,” she added, lifting the key slightly in an awkward gesture of explanation. Her eyes shifted briefly to the woman, back to black cat, a few of the mechanoids, the state of the room, then back to him. The whole scene seemed, in that instance, absurd. What else did you expect on this side of the ‘looking glass.’

“I didn’t mean to interrupt anything,” she insisted, “whatever.. this –“ she gestured vaguely to the scene in front of her, “-is. They just gave me the key for this room when I came in.. maybe they thought I was with you? Or didn’t realize the room wasn’t empty? I can try to go ask if it was a mistake but they weren’t very talkative. Well, at all. So, I’m not sure how well I’d get on.”

She took a small step back toward the hallway, though part of her curiosity tugged at her to stay and learn more about what exactly was happening.

“I’m sorry, wait, go back,” whipping her head towards the cat again, “did you say that you contain parts of their souls??”

 

[IanThe170]

Lialeth Vianno

​

Well, the cat actually answering her certainly put her in high spirits. The cat knows where the girls are! This is definitely one of those closed cases by now, basically. If there was one thing Lialeth was a savant when it came to clinging to hope at first opportunity it came. So naturally enough, when the cat asked to be released, she did so and put him down, only for reality to come back and slap her in the face. With a fish perhaps, seeing as the cat was seemingly capable of teleporting fish. Or storing them and taking them out of his pocket dimension as he put it.

The revelation that the Morton girls were mages capable enough to create a sentient cat, certainly came as a surprise. That just increased the whole mystery they had here by a wide margin. Especially, when they had created a sentient cat capable of spatial magic of some sort. So one question in particular came to mind. "Was it you who made the girls seemingly just vanish into thin air or was that their own magic or even perhaps some third party?"

She had wanted to ask for something a bit more specific, but felt like she wouldn't get an answer out of the cat about where the girls specifically are. It definitely had nothing to do with the fact that she considered making this room a "hotbox" and hoping her gaseous state would work like catnip on the cat. Although that idea quickly got pushed aside with the ginger an the cat getting along swimmingly. Or more specifically the gingers appearance in general.

Lialeth only managed to notice the ginger only when the cat actually walked up to her, being far too surprised by the cats' antics and smug attitude to really process everything going on fully. "Oh, uhm.." She wanted to say something, but held off, on the account of being confused who she was, but curbed the thoughts a bit and asked the cat a few more questions. Specifically about them leaving the room for the cat to watch over.

"Did they give you that order knowing that they may not return for a while?"

It seemed that Decimus was already ahead of her in some departments here. "It does seem strange, being undermanned is one thing, but... It seems more like the case wasn't even looked at, doesn't it?" In regards to Decimus's comment about taking what the cat said at face value though, she would definitely need to clarify some things, because it seemed as though she was being underestimated here. "Do not worry, I always take things at face value." She certainly looked pleased with herself whilst saying that, her usual gentle smiling having a bit of smugness to it.

"Oh uhm, nice to meet you, Lona, I am Lialeth Vianno, we are currently trying to investigate the disappearance of two girls, who have the room booked for another three days, as I recall." Lialeth was completely oblivious about the fact that she should most likely not just outright say that to random people who they stumble upon, but alas. She was somewhat of an airhead both literally and figuratively. Her main concern currently was the rumors surrounding gingers. She truly hoped she had a soul.

 

[Mephisto]

Crowley

Occupation: imaginary friend, soul guardian, and traveling companion to Alice and Lydia Morton

Height: 11" at the shoulder

Weight: 13 pounds

Languages: Common (spoken as "..."); Fae (spoken as "{...}")

Text Colors: #Fdfd96

| IanThe170 | Maxxob | Morgaine Kri Chya |​

---

The cat's feline features twisted into something more human, something Crowley's skull wouldn't have even allowed if not for the fact that - in Decimus' own words - he was one of the Morton girls' "magic tricks". His lungs - or whatever served as instruments of breathing - collapsed and rose indefinitely and irregularly, producing what the others in the room would immediately recognize as... laughter. He hunched over and pawed at his ears, trying to compose himself. He straightened his spine. He looked at the ceiling. Still, he laughed. Nothing seemed to be humorous about this.

Roger North, the detective that spurned this desperate quest to begin with, had revealed himself as a cog in a dangerously inept machine. The fact of the matter remained that he still relied heavily on outside sources of information due to his advanced age, but that could be no excuse. Admonishment aside, Crowley finally managed to collect himself. He sat alarmingly quietly on the counter. The suddenness of his composure made the room grow still. He had his amusement. Now came the hard facts of the new world these people found themselves in, whether by circumstance or complete accident.

"My friends," he smiled from ear to ear. His pale yellow eyes flickered like distant moonlight caught on serene lake water.

"Sit,"

A single claw emerged from his paw as he gestured towards the arrangements in the living room. His words were simple, yet decisive. The weight behind them spoke volumes of a strange wisdom beyond the rudimentary existence of the thing. For all intents and purposes, he wasn't flesh and blood. He couldn't learn - and yet here he was, bounding along the headboard of the couch once more as the guests to his accommodations found themselves pinned in place.

There were enough chairs for them. They could sit on one of the two couches in they'd like. However they separated themselves, or decided to stick together, would be the deciding factor in what came next.

"You are all in much deeper water than you realize,"

Crowley did not mince words - not this time. He looked down from the bridge of his nose at them, his face scrunched in an expression of intrigue and... something else. His tail swayed one way, then the next. The portal opened on his right flank again. He didn't need the bell this time. Perhaps it was just to show off. Perhaps this portal was different. Perhaps everything he said was a lie. Perhaps he was waiting to draw them into a trap. Perhaps he meant to kill them.

Perhaps he killed the girls.

Alas, there was no evidence. He stayed on his perch. After all, that was what he was ordered to do.

"I wasn't so sure when you first arrived, but now I can definitely see it. All three of you are just like Alice and Lydia. All three of you are cursed,"

Another chuckle escaped his maw. Another reason to doubt him crossed his gleaming eyes. He had another demonstration to make. He reached into the portal, defying the anatomical normality of the actual animal he was based on, and produced the very key Lona was entrusted with. How he found it was a mystery. The portal seemed to connect to people he had physical contact with, as that was the only difference between Lona and the others.

He immediately threw the key down on the table between them all. Something was inherently different about it from the one Decimus and Lialeth received. The coloration was darker, muted, and lacked the subtle hues of rusted copper and aged paper. It was bereft of color, monochrome, and distinctly foreign to the world they inhabited. Crowley extended his claws on one hand.

"I smelled hints of it on the two gumshoes... I couldn't trust them with much because of it. But now that I have this in front of me, I'm more than certain,"

The claws glimmered with a subtle blue light as he swiped the key, breaking it apart into a gaseous plume of black shadows. It rose into a column, intangible and nothing more than a breath on the wind. He licked his paw clean afterwards.

"You've all been marked by Smiling Jack. It could have happened at any time, any place," he shrugged. "Even here, in this very room,"

"That's how he got my girls. He dragged them into the shadows, quicker than anything. They're still alive, otherwise I would no longer be here. I couldn't leave to find them... but now I can," he tilted his head at the three.

"Especially since he's in the room with us," Crowley grinned ominously.

The shadows grew long. The muffled music in the far corners of the hotel became more coherent. Static rose like the tides, throttling comprehension. Something was near. Something terrible. Crowley gestured with his head towards the door, already taking a head start.

"Get out of here! I'll be right behind you... but don't let him catch you,"

---

Spoiler: The Rules

Thus begins the chase. Smiling Jack is behind you. The walls shudder as he approaches. The hotel quakes. The dying gasp of the music and lights closes in around you. Roll 1d10 to maintain distance. I'll do the same, but for Smiling Jack to close in instead. For context, he is starting a full 10 paces behind you.

This is for three rounds.

Good luck.

 

[Morgaine Kri Chya]

Name: Lona Morgan
Character Sheet
Titles: [Human - Mundane]
Language Keys: "..." – Common
Text Color: #00CED1
| Maxxob | IanThe170 | Mephisto |​

---

Lona smiled warmly at Lialeth, “Pleasure to meet you!” Her expression faltered quickly, caught on the words, “What missing girls?”

She returned her attention to Crowley just in time to catch his face contorting, a nightmarish sight. The laughter that followed was even worse. It clawed at the air in her ears, filling the room with a creeping dread that began wrapping around her throat.

“Sit.”

Tentatively, she entered the room a little further. Instead of sitting on a cushion on one of the couches, she balanced herself upon one of the couch arms nearest the door, with a foot resting on the ground.

Every word he spoke felt like singular pieces of lead being dropped into her stomach, a heavy maw of discomfort opening within her being. As he produced the key from his ‘portal’ and destroyed it, she glanced down to find her hands empty where it had once been. She saw the hall’s shadows in her periphery and felt a flutter of apprehension in her chest.

Was I bait? Were we all bait so he could find a way to reach the girls?

Smiling Jack, the name gave Nightmare Before Christmas. Wasn’t there a comic strip that started in the 30s called Smiling Jack? Despite the comical name, every moment since her arrival in Red Haven was a stark reminder that this was not her world anymore. Inversely, more things were real and dangerous than not. Enough of her Appalachian upbringing still haunted her, and this place certainly had the Proper Vibes to diminish doubts.

“Especially since he’s in the room with us.”

Lona’s throat tightened as the air seemed to thicken, suffocating. A chill shuddered through her as a wave of goosebumps rolled down her arms and legs.

He’s here.

He’s in the room.

The music warped into a low, crackling hum that vibrated in her bones. Lona’s throat tightened as the air seemed to thicken, suffocating. Crowley’s eyes flicked to the door, and the urgency in his voice cracked through the tension. All sounds were immediately muted by the roar of her own blood pressure filling her ears. She heard nothing else that followed. Lona shot to her feet, panic already surging through her. Her legs moved on instinct, driven by pure fear. The room spun as she bolted for the door, her heart slamming against her ribcage. The feeling of something terrible chasing her, just inches away, pushed her faster. She could feel it—the cold, suffocating presence looming behind her, ready to grab her and pull her into the dark.

This wasn’t a fun seasonal festival trip anymore.

---

((Let me know if roll in IH was fine, or if roll is preferred here.))

 

[Maxxob]

Decimus Valerius

Spoiler: Minions

Titles: [Human - Mundane], [Native], [Military Cadet E] - Widersia - Color #a13a3a
Language Keys: "..." - Common ; "[...]" - Terran

Mephisto IanThe170 Morgaine Kri Chya

“I’m Decimus Valerius, 2nd Infantry Division, Widersian Army,” Decimus introduced himself, his words measured and steady, punctuated by slow puffs of gray smoke from his pipe. His eyes, sharp and assessing, flicked over the freckled girl as she introduced herself as Lona. Yet, before he could say much more, it was Crowley who provided an answer to her question about the missing girls.

Decimus’ eyes narrowed as he watched the feline, his attention shifting from Lona to the creature that had, until now, simply seemed like an odd, if mischievous, talking cat. But then, the transformation began, and what followed was a grotesque spectacle that made Decimus’ stomach churn with disgust. Crowley’s skull morphed, taking on unnervingly human-like features, face contorting into a mockery of a face. The thing seemed to breathe, its sides rising and falling in a rhythmic, unnatural motion, while a chilling laugh echoed through the room, harsh and grating against his ears. Decimus had seen many horrors on the battlefield, but there was something about this display that was deeply unsettling, a primal wrongness that set his nerves on edge.

In a flash, his hand was on his sidearm, drawing it with the instinctive precision of a veteran soldier. Years of combat had honed his senses, and right now, they were screaming at him—warning him of the gnawing danger lurking beneath Crowley’s twisted transformation. “[Get ready!]” he barked in Terran, his command sharp and efficient, slicing through the room's sudden tension. The words were meant solely for his mechanical troops, but their purpose was clear. Within moments of Crowley’s sinister invitation to sit, the constructs sprang to life, moving with mechanical precision.

The mechanoids shifted out of their stoic stances, their steam-rifles clicking as they raised them in unison, blue-hued photoreceptors aligning with the iron sights. Each mechanical soldier was now focused, aimed directly at the source of unease—Crowley, or whatever this abomination truly was. The cold, metallic readiness of the constructs created a stark contrast to the room's suffocating, unnatural atmosphere, like silent sentinels bracing for the worst.

Despite the growing sense of dread, Decimus did not immediately give the order to fire. Instead, he adjusted the spectacles perched on his nose, his movements deliberate, even as the tension continued to mount. With a careful, calculated grace, he lowered himself into one of the offered chairs, ensuring he remained out of the line of fire. As Crowley began to speak, weaving a tale of curses, Decimus’ expression darkened, the seriousness in his eyes deepening. The creature’s words, paired with the shifting shadows that seemed to crawl and stretch along the room’s edges, stirred something in him—an old, familiar disdain.

'Smiling Jack,' he thought, recalling the name whispered by Mr. Lime and Mr. Stone. An urban legend, a story told to scare children, but now, in the gloom of this room, it seemed far more tangible, far more threatening. Decimus could feel it, a presence shifting, the shadows growing longer, twisting, and coiling like serpents. There was an oppressive weight pressing down on him, tugging at the edges of his mind, a familiar, creeping dread he had come to associate with the damned magic of the Fae. ‘Cursed mages…’ The thought was bitter, laced with the disdain of a man who had seen too much of what that kind of power could do, how it corrupted, twisted, and broke. And now, it seemed, they were caught in another one of those tangled webs.

A strange, discordant melody began to hum softly in his ears, as if a distant radio had been turned on, followed by a faint static. The music grew louder, more insistent, accompanied by an unpleasant buzzing, drowning out the quiet of the room. “[Shoot whatever else appears! Then move out!]” Decimus ordered, his voice cutting through the growing noise, clear and commanding. The constructs responded instantly, their movements synchronized, rifles poised and ready to fire at the first sign of anything that shouldn’t be there. To him, they were expendable, mere tools meant to follow orders without hesitation, and if this room was about to become a battleground, they would buy him the time he needed.

Decimus was already on his feet, his body moving with surprising agility for someone of his age. Years in the field had taught him the value of swift, decisive action, and he wasn’t about to stand still and wait for the danger to come to him. With a swift, fluid motion, he bolted towards the door, his boots pounding against the floor as he dashed down the hallway. The pipe was still clenched between his teeth, wisps of smoke trailing behind him like ghostly tendrils, but his mind was focused, every muscle primed to act.

Decimus was a soldier, and he had faced down worse than this. His eyes were sharp, scanning the hallways for any sign of movement, any clue that might tell him what was really going on here. Whatever this curse was, he intended to see it broken, and he wasn’t about to let some eldritch creature stop him.

 

[IanThe170]

Lialeth Vianno

​

Lialeth was not entirely sure what to make of the ongoing situation, any reason she may have had in that head of hers was leaving her body, just as her soul soon would, or at least so she suspected. A Cat transfiguring itself into a human shape was not something she had expected to see when she woke up this morning, or any morning when she'd woken up thus far. Unfortunately, now that would become the case, at least once in a full moon.

She ended up following the creatures command to sit, and she would choose whatever chair was the closest, mainly hoping it would not feel the need to show them something like that again. Not to mention the slight hope of it explaining the situation, all it knew about it, anyways. And an explanation came indeed, just not the specific explanation, nor the "demonstration" that she expected.

Cursed..? Really? When Crowley took out another key to the room, Lialeth started to wonder just how many keys are there for each specific room. She had not exactly explored a lot of hotels, but assuming the girls got a key, potentially one each, there would be at least four, if not five keys to this room. Most likely an additional one for hotel staff and a back up key and Lialeth had doubts that that any of them were given the back up key. There was no way this was common industry practice, so she was determined to figure out if the hotel simply had a ludicrous amount of keys laying around or was it for this room specifically.

Her thoughts were short-lived, however, as the now broken key was emanating and the sound around her simply felt awful. Like an old TV that ends up not getting any signal, whilst still on full volume. A sound that made her bones shiver. Every part of her body was screaming at her, but the bigger issue was that the same was for everyone else. Hence, she remained calm and tried to follow Decimus and Lona, but to no avail. Due to irony alone, it seems the Air Nymph would be out of breath first.

She was not the athletic type, not to mention her weird BMI of 8.9, due to being a Sylph, most likely did not grant her any favors in regards to physical activities. Then there was also the matter of running around in an ankle length dress, which further just complicated everything. Hence, Lialeth decided that she would at least aid the others in their escape. In worst case scenario, she still had the coin. In the worse worst scenario, she'll have potentially helped save them, temporarily at least.

Lialeth proceeded to use her magic and would cast a gust of wind from behind, hoping to give Lona and Decimus a further edge in their escape. She could not run as fast as them, regardless, so slowing herself down even more so she could cast magic felt like the right thing to do in this situation.
___

In regards to movement numbers; Lialeth ended up going 2 Paces, whilst giving Decimus and Lona a 3 Pace boost.

 

[Mephisto]

| IanThe170 | Maxxob | Morgaine Kri Chya |
​

---

Behold upon the precipice of doom and despair, the long tendrils of the hand of fate crawling from the abyss between the walls and under the floorboards. The items upon which the guests to the City of the Scarlet Moon risked their souls were cursed from the very beginning - whether by circumstance or fate, none could say for now. The heavy footfalls of their pursuer shook bone and skin, yet produced no sound. They were quiet. They were deliberate. The heels of his shoes clicked in tandem with a distant heartbeat that belonged to no one. The coldness of his breath strung them all by the napes of their necks. Running was their only option. As Smiling Jack approached, his lithe body quivered in anticipation. This did not exist to him because of victory, but because he held a very special melody in mind.

He walked and sauntered, stopping to twirl and dance and sing madly in the cacophony of the growing darkness, his psychotic silhouette framed by the dying lamplight. He hummed and cooed and purred, the noises of a handful of animals running their course through his voice. None could pin it down to anything they heard before. None could imagine the source of the chaos. It played havoc upon their ears, paradoxically providing an anchor to which they could ride out the ensuing typhoon. Folly, though it was, for even buoyed in a raging sea there could be no respite, only blind prayer while hopelessness waxed strong.

The water crowded their ankles. They could still run. They could still hide. He hadn't caught sight of them quite yet. He had only recently exited the room, phasing in and out of reality in faint flickering clicks of consciousness and presence. The static overrode much of the music. There was still some sort of rhapsody, some jazzy interlude with lyrics about a warm summer sun. But here, everything felt cold. It felt distant. Here there could be no such thing as a shining emblem of freedom hovering endlessly overhead. The walls seemed to draw in closer, funneling the group towards the only exit they could see - that being the elevator they came in on.

Crowley was nowhere to be seen. He promised to be near them, behind them, but it seemed that his lies bore impure fruit. The damnable feline found his scapegoat. The sacrifices to the meat grinder came face to face with their butcher.

Smiling Jack tilted his head upwards. The lyrics to his horrid song became loud and unavoidable.

"Limbs and lungs and livers too
Bring me bones for the brew
Naughty folks who break curfew
Will have their place in the stew"
​

Something surrendered within his neck, giving way with a sickeningly wet pop. Drool slithered from between his sharp teeth. It soon caught red, and dripped in thick beads like blood. His throat burst with a horrendous cackle.

He caught sight of the interlopers.

The automatons Decimus left behind to deter the invasive spirit shot first and asked questions never, obeying their programming without hesitation. Yet there was only so much one could do against something that didn't have a body. The bullets didn't exit from the other side. They were absorbed into the inky darkness, and soon the machines themselves were dragged into the void.

"But Jack always finds a way
By deal, trick, and charade
To drag his friends ere break of day
Underneath the Night Parade"
​

His limbs cracked, bending in ways the humanoid body he possessed was never supposed to. He opened his mouth, his jaw structure stabbing through the skin and puncturing layer after layer of finite tissue until a cervine skull emerged. This tore the remaining skin away as antlers reached from either side. The herbivorous teeth chattered incessantly. He kept laughing. He kept singing. He lunged forward, any remnant of identifiable humanity now well and truly gone.

He barked and roared, his bestial outrage intermingling with the static and overtaking it in places. The sheer size and starving animosity of the thing caused it to become entangled with his own malevolence. Yet for every door opened or cart pushed into his path, he simply phased through it. He didn't exist for anyone other than those that were cursed to see him. They knew his name.

They knew his name. They told him all of their names over the lingering presence of the shadow key. Names had power, and now they were bound together - these three. Now they were known by Smiling Jack, and they knew him.

Curiosity often had a way of coming back to haunt the curious.

---

Spoiler: Movement Info

Rolled a 4 for the sake of reference.

As of right now, Decimus and Lona are zooming ahead at 13. Lialeth is lagging behind at 2. From Smiling Jack's starting point at 10 paces away, he is now at 6 which puts him 6 away from Lialeth - the closest player.

Two rounds remain.

 

[Morgaine Kri Chya]

Name: Lona Morgan
Titles: [Human - Mundane]
Language Keys: "..." – Common
Text Color: 00CED1
| Mephisto | IanThe170 | Maxxob |​

---

Lona's heart pounded as the whispers twisted into that haunting melody, wrapping around her with an icy grip. Smiling Jack—the name settled uncomfortably into her bones. Cursed. She stumbled forward, every nerve screaming at her to run faster, but her mind was clouded with fear, each word of the twisted song branding itself into her thoughts. She dared a glance back, only to see his warped silhouette, shifting in and out of reality, twisting and bending in ways no human ever should.

Crowley was gone, his promise of help as gossamer as shadows. She bit back disgust, trying to manage the panic, forcing herself to focus on the path ahead—the elevator, the only exit. Her breaths came shallow and rapid, burning with dread as she sprinted forward. The corridor felt longer, stretching further with each step as if the walls conspired to keep her here.

She whispered to herself; words meant more for courage than anything else. "Just a little farther... almost there," she breathed, every step feeling heavier, the water at her ankles an anchor threatening to drag her down. She pushed forward, her gaze fixed on the elevator doors gleaming in the distance, her only lifeline, the only possible way out.

One word, repeated like a prayer in her mind: Run.

As Lona reached the elevator, her fingers barely brushed the button before she turned back, her heart in her throat. Shadows twisted around her newly met, and she assumed, for now, allies and saw Smiling Jack was closing in. His nightmarish form almost upon them.

"Come on! Hurry!" she screamed, her voice raw with fear. She extended her arm, reaching out, her gaze fixed on Lialeth. She could feel every nerve screaming to just get inside and slam the door shut, but she held her ground, her hand outstretched.

"Lialeth!" she called, desperation thick in her voice. "I'm right here! Take my hand!" She braced herself, eyes wide and focused, ready to pull her inside the moment she was close enough.

---

 

[Maxxob]

Decimus Valerius

Spoiler: Minions

Titles: [Human - Mundane], [Native], [Military Cadet E] - Widersia - Color #a13a3a
Language Keys: "..." - Common ; "[...]" - Terran

Mephisto IanThe170 Morgaine Kri Chya

Decimus moved with a steady, unyielding pace, his boots striking the ground with firm, rhythmic thuds, each step a testament to his unwavering resolve. The hallway stretched out before him, a dimly lit path that felt endless, the shadows clinging to the corners as if they sought to swallow him whole. For a brief moment, the distant, thunderous roar of gunfire echoed through the corridor—his mechanoids discharging their steam-rifles, dutifully following his last order. But the noise, once a reassurance of their presence, now felt hollow. The ominous, oppressive sensation of Smiling Jack’s presence still lingered, creeping closer, like a cold hand sliding along the back of his neck.

The promises Crowley had made to remain behind them, to keep pace, had been nothing but empty words. Of course, Decimus mused bitterly, his lips curling into a grim line. Skinning that wretched creature the moment it showed its true colors would have been the correct call. But regrets were a waste of breath, especially now. The past could not be undone, and right now, his focus was on survival.

Despite the suffocating tension, Decimus fought to keep his mind clear, his thoughts sharp. Panic was a luxury he could not afford, not with the growling, monstrous presence hounding them through the narrow, suffocating space of the hallway. He kept his eyes forward, the subtle tremor of anticipation running through his frame hidden beneath a mask of steely determination. There was only one objective now: reach the elevator at the end of the hallway, the sole avenue of escape against the relentless pursuit of whatever hellish thing Smiling Jack truly was.

The flickering lights overhead seemed to dim as the distance to the elevator slowly shortened, their shadows warping and twisting, as though mocking his every step. The sense of dread grew thicker, coiling around him like a vice. But he pressed on, his fingers tightening around the grip of his sidearm. Decimus had been through enough firefights to know that victory often came down to stubbornness, the will to keep moving forward even when every instinct screamed to run.

Finally, the metallic doors of the elevator loomed ahead, a cold, lifeless promise of safety. The old soldier didn’t allow himself the luxury of relief until he stepped inside, his boots scraping against the metal floor, a subtle, almost inaudible sound that was drowned out by the frantic beat of his own heart. Turning sharply, Decimus twisted around, his ashen eyes locking onto the darkened hallway from which he had just emerged. The shadows were shifting, rippling like the surface of a disturbed pond, and in their depths, he could see it—a monstrous form, an inhuman silhouette slowly coming into focus, slithering closer.

Lona, had already reached the elevator, her hand stretched out, calling for Lialeth, who had lagged behind. In turn Decimus raised his sidearm, his movements quick, precise, the mechanical motions of a man who had aimed and fired a thousand times before. He did not flinch, did not hesitate, as he squeezed the trigger, sending a series of sharp, echoing cracks reverberating down the hallway.

The bullets tore through the space, snapping out like angry hornets, each shot aimed at the approaching figure. Decimus knew, deep down, that his sidearm was unlikely to do anything against a creature like this, but it wasn’t about the efficacy of his shots. It was about defiance, about giving them every second they could steal, every breath they could cling to.

 

[IanThe170]

Lialeth Vianno
​

Lialeth had trouble keeping up with the pace, as well as the fear in the back of her mind. Terror, unlike she had ever experienced before. She had felt something similar once before, but even then, understanding is what kept her sane throughout. No, that's not entirely the case. Understanding and knowing what to expect from the oncoming experience, is what had kept her sane throughout. This. This was different. As she glanced back on the creature behind her, the only understanding she had was... That she could not understand it. Her entire life, whether it be animals or people, she could understand them, in her own way. Every person in this accursed town she had seen in the brief period in which she was here... She could understand. Even the seemingly monstrous Mr. Limestone or even the "cat", she could understand. That lack of understanding as she peered at it, terrified her to the very core.

If nothing else, she did manage to obtain, but a few seconds of relief. A mere few seconds of serenity in her heart as she saw that both Lona and Decimus had made it to the elevator. Whether her gust of wind had helped at all was a question for another time, and most importantly for another place, but for the sake of preserving her own sanity, she chose to believe so, in order to have at least some solace in this dread filled situation.

Despite the situation, despite the clear as day trap placed for them, most likely orchestrated by Crowley, she still held a completely and utterly irrational hope. I hope that Crowley managed to make it out safe... This was both due to it being the best lead they have and due to the fact that if this was a set up, surely enough it was to help save the girls, in which case, perhaps dying or getting dragged God knows where would still be worth it...

She had listened to each and every word of the song and even as consternation was overtaking her body, she made sure to remember each and every word, since she believed in what Mr. Limestone had said. No, this was less about belief, and she treated it as knowledge. A fact. A fact that could help her save the girls. Despite that, she wished to find out more, no, she had to find out more. With this town being as it was, she held confidence in the fact that this wasn't all there was to this, so she needed to escape.

As Lona screamed in terror at Lialeth, she'd simply smile as per usual, regardless of the terror in her own eyes, and yelled back, whilst gasping for whatever air she could. "C-close it huff and go! huff I will huff be alright..!" However, she did not scream back at Lona, no. She screamed back at Decimus, whilst staring right at him. He was a hardened and experienced soldier, so compared to the absolutely terrified Lona, she felt as though he was the right person to ask this of. But as far Lialeth could see, even he was not thinking entirely straight in this situation, firing away pointlessly. A dead soldier was not a good soldier.

She suddenly remembered one thing from her previous life, from the many bad experiences in it, a man she had been together with and one of the things he mentioned about his job... "D-don't engage huff gasp an enemy huff unless you outgun them..!! And we can huff puff always talk huff again regardless..!!!" She screamed with what air she still had circulating constantly through her lungs as she held up the coin she received from the detective. She had no way of knowing if what she said was true, every single thing was nothing more than stuff others had told her. She had no way of knowing if she would escape, she had no way of knowing if what that man had once said was true, she had no way of knowing if the coin even worked, nor did she have any way of knowing if it would work once that thing caught her. Nevertheless, she chose to be confident in what she said.

 

[Mephisto]

| IanThe170 | Morgaine Kri Chya | Maxxob |
​

---

Running as fast as they could, the unlikely trio could not outrun the Shadow Man forever. Decimus took to the belly of the elevator first, firing his weapon in the bluntest form of "negotiation" that he deemed this new threat deserved. Unlikely as it was to cause harm, the simple act of defiance against the dying of the light piqued the interest of the beast in question. It possessed neither flesh nor bone, yet cracked and shifted all the same. Wet noises akin to slaughtered meat made themselves apparent somewhere within the swirling mass of darkness and despair. The skull remained a constant, forever crowned by the antlers stating its dominion over the unknown.

As it loped along, gaining speed and overtaking the ground left behind by Lialeth in mere instances of time, the hulking beast-thing actually began to do something other than roar and sing. It maw split open, its mouthful of fangs and teeth snapping loudly. Blood splattered across the paintings it crossed. The back of its exposed throat bubbled with a similar ichor, leaving a trail of it as it passed. Pieces of meat were evident. Organs too, but they were much too small to facilitate such an abomination. As if answering Decimus' stubbornness, the beast coughed and hacked what seemed to be leftovers from its previous victims all along the floor.

Yet it surged onward.

It slashed at Lialeth's ankles, reaching with long limbs and spiteful talons looking to grab at her and drag her away.

It laughed at the fear it caused. It drank well, almost drowning in the cacophony of panic. Its unlatched jaws let forth a gurgling, howling cackle. Stitches popped. The smell of death became just as overwhelming as the physical presence of its looming shadow. Still, it laughed.

Smiling Jack would have at least one new victim to his tally... but then a blur shot out from the depths of nowhere. A shape appeared on top of the beast's shoulders, only to savagely bite into the nape of its neck. This new interloper took the form of a gigantic black panther, his teeth already slaked in fresh blood. The unmistakable blue glow of magic made itself apparent in every razor-sharp tooth and claw.

"I have you now, you son of a bitch!" Crowley's voice bellowed from the panther, making it known that they were one and the same.

"Three days of camping out this damn hotel knowing you'd return, smelling your stink around every corner!"

He took another bite out of the abomination, leaping away as it swirled and shifted into a writhing mass of limbs and coiling tendrils. Crowley covered Lialeth's retreat as best he could, slashing and lunging at whatever Smiling Jack used to try and ensnare her with.

"Lialeth! He's not going to stop until he takes a cursed soul. Luckily, I have two. I know my girls are alive somewhere. Somewhere dark. I'm going to find them even if I die trying,"

With that he turned on his heels, jumping straight into the heart of the shadow. He disappeared without a trace. There one second, gone the next. Smiling Jack did seem to slow down... although he didn't fade away entirely all at once. He still reached for Lialeth, hungry to add her to the growing tally.

Meanwhile, for some reason, Decimus would receive a distress signal from his robots. They were still functioning... but... nowhere in sight. Judging by the quality of the signal, they were intact, but very - very - far away. He couldn't make out any coordinates, only that they were awaiting further orders. Whether or not they could interpret these orders based on where they were now remained completely untested and uncertain.

---

Spoiler: Meta Info

Rolled an 8 for reference.

With the current rolls, Decimus and Lona are at the elevator goal. Lialeth is lagging behind, only 3 spaces away from being consumed by the shadow as well.

Crowley has been removed from this plane of existence.

With his wounds inflicted by magic piercing and slashing weapons, Smiling Jack now moves at 1d8.

One round remains for the hallway escape.

 

[Morgaine Kri Chya]

Name: Lona Morgan
Titles: [Human - Mundane]
Language Keys: "..." – Common
Text Color: 00CED1
| Mephisto | IanThe170 | Maxxob |​

---

Lona stood pressed against the cold elevator wall in its doorway, one hand stretched out toward Lialeth. However, her gaze stayed fixed down the hall, locked on the horror lumbering closer. Smiling Jack's skull, crowned with grotesque, twisting antlers, loomed in the dim light, his form twisting and cracking as he moved, the sickening sound of tearing meat and splintering bone louder with each step. Every time his jaws snapped open, she could see glistening fangs, slick with dark, oily blood that spattered across the floor and walls with each horrible cough, leaving a trail of visceral remnants from victims before them. Lona's mouth went dry, but her grip on the elevator entrance only tightened, her fingers white-knuckled against the metal as her stomach churned. She forced herself to keep looking.

Lona took a sharp, steadying breath, her eyes fixed on the chaos ahead. Crowley—now a massive black panther, somehow—had latched onto Smiling Jack with claws and fangs, biting and slashing in a vicious dance. She didn't understand half of what she was seeing, but the sight of Smiling Jack reeling, even for a moment, stirred something other than terror in her chest.

It could be hurt.

The thought was a thin thread of hope, barely enough to cling to, but she grabbed it anyway, feeling a flicker of resolve even as every nerve screamed at her to run. In the back of her mind, she heard her grandmother's old warning: If you hear something, no, you didn't. If you see something, no, you didn't. She held onto it like a lifeline, reminded that things like this were best left unacknowledged. It was a rule carved from generations of caution—whispers and sightings, things you pretended not to see. You gave them power by looking, by thinking too hard, by letting them know you believed.

But this...this was different. The creature was real, terrifyingly, undeniably tangible — her nose reminded her as she fought against her churning stomach from the smell, and ignoring it wouldn't make it vanish. Her pulse hammered, and her arm stretched out even further for Lialeth. Still, she steadied herself, repeating her grandmother's words under her breath like a mantra.

Stay calm, she reminded herself, hand still outstretched. Don't give it more than it already has.

She looked at Decimus briefly, the determination in his gaze encouraging her to not falter. Her mind raced, a thousand scattered thoughts colliding. Crowley's betrayal—or was it bravery?—echoed somewhere in her head, but all that mattered now was getting everyone out.

---

Spoiler: Meta

Rolled an 8 but since Elevator was specified as "goal" - keeping her here, not wanting to leave anyone behind - I'll accept the risks if this means her roll is ignored.

 

[Maxxob]

Decimus Valerius

Spoiler: Minions

Titles: [Human - Mundane], [Native], [Military Cadet E] - Widersia - Color #a13a3a
Language Keys: "..." - Common ; "[...]" - Terran

Mephisto IanThe170 Morgaine Kri Chya

Decimus squinted through the hazy, dim-lit hallway, his gaze narrowing as each shot he fired cut across the grotesque figure that was Smiling Jack. The bullets hit their mark, but with every strike, only a sickening, wet splash emerged where solid flesh should have been. Instead, his rounds sank into an unnatural form that was more suggestion than substance, a mass devoid of bone and muscle, as though it mocked the very idea of a living body. Just as he anticipated, his sidearm was of little use here—its rounds swallowed by the entity’s unnatural bulk, leaving no lasting impact.

He could only watch as Smiling Jack's maw yawned open, revealing what lay within: remnants of past victims, gnawed and partially digested, remnants of what had once been living beings. Even for a battle-hardened veteran, the sight gnawed at his gut, challenging his iron control. A nauseating wave rolled through him, but he clenched his jaw, pushing down the visceral reaction. This was a thing born of nightmares—unfathomable, inhuman, and more malignant with every passing moment.

A flicker of motion caught his eye, snapping him from his disgust. His surprise was evident, just for an instant, as Crowley reappeared at the creature's shoulder. The feline, however abhorrent and deceitful, attacked it with surprising intensity. Whether Crowley intended to buy Lialeth time or was simply acting out some darker, self-serving agenda was impossible to say. But the assault was short-lived, becoming a self-sacrifice as Crowley launched itself into the beast, vanishing within the entity’s depths in an instant of grotesque finality.

Through it all, Decimus hadn’t been idle. His movements were methodical, every ounce of training focused on trying to buy Lialeth those critical few seconds. Spent magazines clattered to the ground as he reloaded with precision, the press of the trigger becoming a steady, rhythmic beat, each shot fired into the creature’s center of mass, aiming to anchor it in place. If he could hold it off just a moment longer, maybe—just maybe—Lialeth would reach the elevator, and they would finally escape this damnable beast.

Then, suddenly, a faint, dissonant ping echoed in his ear—the distress signal from his mechanoid troops. His jaw tightened, an unspoken curse passing his lips. The signal was weak, fragmented, a ghostly whisper through his earpiece that told him one thing clearly: the mechanoids were out of his line of sight, likely caught in whatever twisted corner of this hellish place still held them. But wherever they were, they were still active.

“[Report your surroundings,]” he ordered in a low, terse voice, hoping the signal would reach them despite the interference. If the mechanoids could provide even a hint of their location, he might be able to piece together if the creature's insides was a location which they could reach. And maybe, further orders could be dispatched.