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 seemed that Decimus and Lona were set on waiting until the very last moment. So Lielath tried her best to meet their expectations and it was going quite well, until she found herself horizontally after feeling a sharp pain and her feet giving out. It appeared the monster was much faster than she imagined based on their little chase thus far. She wondered if it was just taking it easy to see who was gonna be the slowest and waiting for the others to leave on their own. Though, this was probably not the best time for thinking about stuff.

She quickly looked backed and tried to asses the condition of her legs and... It was quite a nerve-wrecking sight. Blood gushing, her feet hanging somewhat limply on to her legs, despite the relatively shallow cuts. Despite this, she should still have some options, although, now with her legs slashed, it was a serious question of if she could even pull off her options.

Hope prevailed, even if temporarily, however. Crowley jumped out of the woodwork to assist, so it was good to see that it truly was on their side. It also meant that her earlier worries about Crowley's safety had now been realized and that it was not so safe anymore. Lialeth tried her best not to squander this opportunity that Crowley so generously gifted. Especially so, since this was all in an effort to help the girls.

So Lialeth tried her best to up from the floor by using the walls for balance. The first step of getting up was not too difficult, at least in comparison to her further attempts to move forward the best she could. Getting up some amount of momentum before jumping forwards, if one could even call that a jump, whilst shifting into her Gaseous state.

This was probably her best chance at escape here, as she hoped he could not just grab her in some way, while she was in her Gaseous state. And even if she did manage to get to the elevator, there was also some hope that most of her "mass" would be in the elevators before they shut the doors. Although, perhaps the elevator movement itself may pull some of her gas into the airflow as the elevator moves. she doubted such, but irrational optimism was certainly how she rolled.

Spoiler

 

[Mephisto]

Roger North

Occupation: detective for the Red Haven Peacekeeping Department
Height: 6' 0"
Weight: 193 pounds
Languages: Common (spoken as "..."); Terran (spoken as "[...]"); Fae (spoken as "{...}")
Text Colors: #59788E

Officer Finley

Occupation: officer for the Red Haven Peacekeeping Department
Height: 6' 4"
Weight: 230 pounds
Languages: Common (spoken as "..."); Far (spoken as "{...}")
Text Colors: #D1B682

| IanThe170 | Revi | Maxxob |
​

---

Roger stared at the paperwork in front of him. He barely slept. He barely ate anymore. The only hydration he had came in the form of coffee. His eyes barely kept themselves open. His stomach tied itself in knots. Everything begged him to surrender. His chief demanded that he pressure the family to call off the investigation. His soft heart couldn't do that, however. His phone rang and his skin practically split from the fright. He picked up the receiver.

"RHPD, Detective North speaking,"

He nodded along with what he heard, scribbling down notes as often as he could.

"Mr. Morton, I'm not sure how long I can convince the chief to keep the case open. Detail work leading up to the Night Parade is taking top priority,"

He understood the responsibilities of a father. He knew the feeling of raising a precious child, see them grow and succeed. In the same vein, there were setbacks and failures. But life goes on. He also knew the pain of a father. He knew the questions Mr. Morton was asking himself. He knew the nightmares he was experiencing, the thoughts, the sudden outbursts of helplessness and panic.

"As of now, I'm paying the guild out of pocket. You don't have to worry about a thing. Yes sir, I'm sure it's fine. Please try to get some rest,"

He hung up and started back on the labyrinth of detective work he had assembled in front of him. It all started with the Morton girls disappearing without a trace. They were here for a short, festive vacation. Everything was conjecture. Everything was assumption. Maybe the two investigators would find something he didn't. The hotel room was empty when he went there. He pressed a thumb over the enchanted coin he possessed, concerned that there hadn't been a message yet. It had only been a few hours... but still.

He started to organize what he knew and what the RHPD bothered to recover. The hotel room - Room 348 - had been closed off until the family chose to call off the case. There were gaps in his knowledge. The combination of caffeination and chronic insomnia worked against him, obviously, but the holes shouldn't be this big. If anything, they were widening. He knew he had a file about Killer Carl. He knew he had speculative information about other pieces to the unfortunate puzzle. Regardless of that, they were gone.

Roger placed his face in his hands, his glasses following the curvature of his fingers and sliding off the bridge of his nose. He took them off and dropped them to his desk.

"I'm going mad... I'm going absolutely insane..."

He stood up and adjusted his glasses. He had to go speak to the chief. He needed more time. He needed more resources. He needed something to ease his mind. But as he walked through the station, there was a pair of eyes he couldn't avoid. Officer Finley, tall and broad like an ox, stood between him and the chief's office.

"Where are you going, old man?"

Roger, by all marks, was already somewhat above average in size. By comparison, Finley made him look like a frail geezer. Detective North stood his ground. Finley's cold off-yellow eyes glared down at him with a smug arrogance, thick veins scrunched between his furrowed brow. He had no respect for Roger or for anyone he could muscle around. He had a hand on his baton, eager to crack someone in the jaw. Roger knew it would be him if he misspoke.

He inhaled slowly.

"I need answers, Finley. The Morton girls - "

"They're dead, North. Accept that. Quit giving the parents a false sense of hope,"

Roger shook his head.

"No, I know they're alive. They're somewhere out there,"

"They've been missing for three days. No corpses matching their description have been found. They're probably washed out to sea by now... you know how fast the water runs this time of year, don't you?"

Finley tilted his head knowing he struck a nerve. Roger clenched his fists in his pockets. His eyes bulged with rage, but he couldn't start anything - not now.

"Y-Yes... I do,"

"Then be a good detective and sit on your ass until we tell you to go find something important,"

Finley gave Roger a dismissive pat on the head and shoved him away from the chief's door. The detective didn't say anything as he went to go get another cup of coffee. He sulked in his office, squeezing the bridge of his nose. He drank between frustrated gasps for air.

---

A Eulogy for the Forgotten​

---

Smiling Jack, for all his horrors and dreadful conjurations, stood on two feet. A vibrant snap of his fingers released the images filling the hallway with his derelict delights. He tilted his head at the two within the body of the elevator. A rictus grin crept from ear to ear as he watched them as a butcher would observe captive lobsters before the dinner menu became finalized.

Lialeth was nowhere to be seen.

Mere seconds ago, she dissipated into a gaseous form that would have alluded to some form of safety and security. She reached out for Decimus, for Lona, her ethereal fingers inches away from salvation. But destiny had different ideas for her. She was evaporated into the darkness, swallowed into the unknown. Jack then gave them a proper view of their pursuer. He wore a fine black suit, pressed and cleaned and starched. The crisp motions of his ensuing interaction snapped eloquently, his wide smirk never once fading or even weakening.

He seemed to be taunting them. He even removed his hat and placed the rim to his chest, bowing as if thanking them for attending a show. Jack raised a finger towards them. He reached into the body of his hat until his shoulder touched the brim. He seemed to be struggling with something, miming that he had quite the catch. He wrenched his arm back and produced two items: Crowley's bell, and Lialeth's Room 348 key.

He threw them into the elevator as it descended, waving at the two with further sinister - albeit muted - mirth.

Soon, the terror of the third floor was left behind. Decimus and Lona were back in the lobby. It was strangely quiet, especially when compared to how Lona found it and all the recent hullabaloo surrounding the discovery of a strange - yet disturbing - piece of the puzzle.

Mr. Limestone was still in his office, mumbling loudly to himself - themselves? - about how much information there was to sift through regarding the crystal balls and what they had recorded. The hulking stitched-together manager of the hotel was very well known to Decimus, but Lona had yet to actually meet who truly was in charge of the hotel. The shadow she had met before was nowhere to be seen. Surely, by now, she would be adverse to meeting anything regarding shadows for at least a moment or two.

The robots sent Decimus another message.

"[Current location: unknown. Status: unharmed. Beep. Landmarks: the Ivory Keys hotel, the Sweet Tooth Candy Emporium, Fat Pete's Butcher Shop... boop,]"

They were listing off locations that Decimus had already passed with Lialeth, as well as the hotel itself, but they were nowhere in sight.

---

In the Great "Elsewhere"​

---

Lialeth's journey, however, had taken quite the sharp turn. She would have been asleep - or at least the equivalent of asleep - for the transit, or however she got here. She would awaken in a solid form, pulled together just like she was before her attempt at escaping the darkness awaiting her.

Her surroundings would be very obviously Red Haven, specifically outside the Ivory Keys... except very different. There was a thick fog concealing anything outside of a few meters. Even sunlight did not reach her. The only actual light seemed to be an ambient grey glow rather than anything natural. She would notice that there was not a single living soul within eyesight or earshot. The town itself seemed still, stagnant.

The electric bulbs buzzed overhead, giving her insight as to the advertising and street illumination. But overall, nothing else seemed to make itself obvious. The fog clung to her skin. It was heavy, dense - more than mere vapor. She could breathe, that much was for certain. She could move and she could walk, shout for help, anything she could think of. The town remained still. The town remained quiet. It remained stagnant, and it remained claustrophobic. How an entire metropolitan area could do such a thing remained out of the grasp of reality and imagination.

The streets were cold to the touch. Most of the color from her recollections of Red Haven proper were faded now. The entire landscape grew bleak and dull. It would be night soon. Would a place such as this even experience dusk, nightfall, and true darkness? What would happen when the fog embraced the impermeable black of her first sunset in this city?

---

Spoiler: Meta Info

The first chase is over - congratulations!

Now the real mystery begins.

 

[Revi]

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

---

As the elevator doors began to close, Lona's heart continued to hammer in her chest, eyes locked onto the horrifying spectacle of Smiling Jack's twisted grin as he stood there, still and poised, a spectre bidding farewell to departing guests. Still dazed, Lona's mind wrestled with the madness of what she'd just witnessed. Smiling Jack, his skin stretching with that eerie grin, had plucked the bell and key as if they were stage props, casually tossing them her way. Everything had vanished in a flash, including Lialeth. Lialeth… she had reached out, so close—just a few steps away—before disappearing into that awful void. How could this be happening?

Her reverie was broken as her brain belatedly reminded her that bits of metal were flying towards them. As the bell and key came near, she instinctively reached to catch them. Her hand shot up in time to snag the bell, feeling its smooth, cold surface in her fingers as she tried not to fumble it. The key, however, slipped past her grasp, clattering against the floor before sliding to the back corner of the elevator. Awkwardly, she worked her fingers to open the bindings of a pouch, with the bell in hand, to shove it inside. At the same time, she knelt and swayed in the mild negative force of the elevator to reach for the key - shoving her hair out of her face with her free hand to see before reaching out to pick up the key.

The dissonance between what she thought she knew and what she witnessed left her fighting against numbness in the aftermath. Just moments ago, she'd been stretching her hand out to save a new ally. Her mind continued to replay that vision of Smiling Jack's grotesque farewell. Was she even drenched from the water she remembered sloughing through just moments before? Was that part just from his projections?

How much of it was real... was it real?

Stop.

It was real. As real as the bell now resting heavily in her pouch. She gripped the key hard in her fist as she straightened up and faced the door again.

The elevator hummed softly as it descended, but she couldn't shake the feeling that Smiling Jack's presence lingered just behind the doors, waiting. The fact that he could be injured—even slightly—gnawed at her thoughts. This monstrous thing was vulnerable, but by what? She wasn't sure. It was cold comfort, but comfort nonetheless.

Gritting her teeth, Lona forced herself to breathe, to remind herself that she was alive, here, and had just made it out. And she wasn't alone. As the elevator finally slowed to a stop and the doors parted to reveal the quiet lobby, she took in Decimus' stoic figure beside her and squared her shoulders. Taking a final steadying breath, Lona looked at Decimus with newfound resolve. She pressed her hand over the pouch where the bell rested, feeling its cool weight like an anchor to reality. Her voice was quiet but unwavering.

"So… what now, and how may I help?" she asked, trying to suppress the tremor still lingering in her words. "I know I may not seem like I could be of much use, but I'm marked—cursed—in this now as well as you. And I can't stand the thought of anyone being trapped… or worse, by that… that thing."

She took a breath, drawing strength from her resolve. "I'll not be turned away, Decimus. Whatever needs doing… I'm in."

A brief flash of determination lit her dark brown eyes as she looked at him, her mind racing with ideas, any possibility to make sense of what had just happened - and, more importantly, what they should do next.

 

[Maxxob]

Decimus Valerius

Spoiler: Minions

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

Mephisto IanThe170 Revi

Decimus ‘felt’ Lialeth’s ghostly fingertips brush against his gloved hand, however, in the next moment, she was gone. His weathered face scrunched even further, eyebrows furrowing. He only stared at Smiling Jack, his teeth grinding against each other, before the elevator began its descent towards the first floor. As it moved, the old veteran’s mind was filled by a myriad of thoughts, taking quite a bit of time to notice his hand was still firmly gripping his sidearm. Holstering it once more, he steeled his senses and hearing the response given by the mechanoids.

The fact that the constructs were unharmed gave him a slight relief, even if that could very well only be because of their inorganic composition. But, the fact that he was able to retrieve some landmarks that could be detected was excellent. It would be just a matter to find in which location one’s eyes would be able to catch the glimpse of the three given landmarks. Or, at least, that is what he thought. Theory and practice often times diverged greatly.

Giving his smoking pipe a long, deep drag, the old veteran let the smoke slowly escape from the corner of his lips. His ashen-eyes would fall on Lona, hearing about woman’s conviction in dealing with whatever was happening. He took his time before answering her, mind reeling if it was wise to get her involved. However, in reality, she already was. Seeing the determination in her eyes, he nodded.

“I wasn’t planning in turning you away. In fact, that would be even more dangerous to you, if we are, in fact, actually ‘cursed’.” From his words, it was safe to assume he didn’t subscribe to the idea of ‘curses’. “The constructs, the ones I had left back in the apartment while we made our retreat, they are still functional.” Crossing his arms, and looking around the hotel’s foyer, he continued. “They reported a few landmarks, like this very hotel, the Sweet Tooth Candy Emporium and Fat Pete’s Butcher Shop. The very first thing would be to find the location in which all these three can be seen. That will give us the first idea of where they might be.” With a small pause, to think about something, his train of thought was resumed. “Sweet Tooth Candy Emporium is the place where they make those chocolate candies with that symbol, Smiling Jack’s symbol on it. Let’s visit that place afterward.” Those were his suggestions.

 

[IanThe170]

Lialeth Vianno
​

It all happened in an instant. Everything went black. The freeing feeling of being in her gaseous state? Gone. The fear for her own safety and the safety of others? Gone. The hope to escape? Well, that would obviously be gone too. There was only darkness left, or until she woke up again, feeling surprisingly refreshed. She guessed that whatever stress she had probably dissipated whilst having a "nap".

Stress, however, is not a thing that can simply vanish forever. Yes, it simply creeps back the moment it leaves. And so it started creeping back the moment she awoke. It appeared she was still in the city. Although, surprisingly enough she felt better here than in the original, or what she assumed to be the original. It may have been foggy and dark, seemingly devoid of all life, but ultimately, what disturbed Lialeth about the city were the people. So all things considered, this was a welcome change.

When trying to get back up, she was quickly reminded about her legs and ended up not progressing on that front. Well, if nothing else, she would rip apart the hem of her dress and wrap the cloth around her injured legs. It was not much, especially as the dress was most certainly not sterile. And so she would succeed on her next attempt at getting up, although, she did have to hug the wall and lean on it as much as possible, so movement was still quite a fair bit awkward.

Still, she did her best to adjust and decided to first take a look at the room where the girls were, just in case. Whilst in the room, she would also try and throw the coin up in the air, hitting the ceiling and letting it drop on the ground. This was how a coin flip is done, right? The coin did flip. Like twice at least. And so she knelt down and then proceeded to put her head on the coin, trying to hear anything from it. She probably should have asked if she could move or touch the coin after flipping it, but oh well. She would figure that out later, if necessary. "H-hello?"

Regardless, there were more pressing concerns right now than her injuries, namely, the fact she did not see Crowley around here, nor the Morton girls, although, she was not surprised by the latter, it would probably not be that easy. For now though, she had to find out if this place was truly empty or not. So she would start looking around for the tallest building nearby and would attempt to reach its rooftop, if at all possible.

Once and if she made it, she would look around for any movement anywhere she could see, granted she could even see the ground with the thick fog. Whether or not she could see was one thing, so she proceeded to take in a deep breath and: "CROWLEY!? LYDIA!!? ALICE!!!?"

 

[Mephisto]

---

Once Upon a Time​

---

Featuring:
| Revi | Maxxob |
As themselves

In: The Candy Caper

Countdown until the Night Parade: two days and three nights

Less than 72 hours remain
​

---

Evenings in Red Haven often took a turn for the worse. The deeper the night wore on, the less likely someone would live to see the end of it. Decimus and Lona wouldn't have to worry about that, however. They were safe. They were casual observers to fate, for that is all they had to keep telling themselves. Eventually it would become true. It had to become true. Whatever they manifested through anxiety and fear could just as easily be counterbalanced by optimism and hope. Yet, the most hopeful of their unlikely trio - Lialeth - was snatched away, cleanly as a summer peach from the stem. They did not know where she was, but they knew where she wasn't. Decimus had a powerful clue yet untapped, after all.

The machines he walked into the daunting city were still intact. That meant Lialeth was as well. Hopefully. To battle dread, one must pray. One must think. One must center around fact. Logic anchored the mind which tethered the soul.

...

But Red Haven had no such comfortable logic. Souls swarmed rampant in the air, invisible and unheard. The simple feeling of something wrong around the next corner plunged sturdy hearts into uncertainty. They had to fight against it somehow. Establishing rudimentary fact was better than observing that there was none to grasp. Decimus followed where the machines described and Lona followed behind, a new phase of the impromptu detective's story unfolding before his very eyes. The weathered soldier would find that - while the robots did describe their surroundings accurately - nothing of their substantial, corporeal shapes were standing in front of him.

The crowds of people fluctuating around the square for the first round of nightly meals began to thicken and coagulate. The incessant murmurings of families, acquaintances, young lovers, lonely couples, and the odd feverish romantics cooed and cawed this way and that, becoming a web of sound and bodies. Restaurants filled and emptied quickly as clockwork. The scale of the detail in the buildings themselves could warrant entire books dedicated to the craftsmanship and immaculate care given to maintaining the lovely, baroque architecture.

But coming here didn't yield complete loss. A standing mirror meant to ward off potential pickpockets revealed that the robots were in the square with them - yet not with them. They were elsewhere, stuck in a dreamlike reality mirroring the one Decimus and Lona now occupied. It seemed that Smiling Jack had more tricks up his sleeve than merely transforming into the stuff of nightmares. He also had somewhere to run to so that he could lick his wounds.

Now the question remained... how would one access this strange power independent of the beast himself?

They headed inside to make good on the chain of events Decimus wanted to capitalize on. Luckily enough, the very shop they stood in front of to make the realization about the mirrors was the Sweet Tooth Candy Emporium. Once inside, they were greeted with a wall of delicious smells and aromas the likes of which could only come from a place of pure joy. The color palette distinctly clashed with the dreary tones set in the Red Haven nightlife. Here, it was bright pastel of all kinds, evoking warmth and childlike wonder. A noise came from behind the counter akin to a squeal or a gasp and a rotund woman peeked over the cash register.

She had a large hat that resembled a column of pink cotton candy and rosy cheeks that were more akin to shining maraschino cherries. She absolutely glowed with a charm that oozed merriment and glee, and she clapped her surprisingly thick hands together with affirmation of the investigators visiting her shop. Puffs of powdered sugar and flour cascaded around her palms. She had been busy with making something positively delicious.

"Oh welcome dearies!" she picked up her flowery, flowing dress and bowed her head as a curl of grey hair bounced out from under her hat.

She was short, barely tall enough to look over the register, but possessed the familiar coziness of a wizened grandmother. She fluttered about, her dress jittering with excited layers of petal-thin fabric making up the colorful details.

"My name is Beatrice. How may I help you this fine evening?"

---

The World Felt Slower​

---

Featuring:
| IanThe170 |
As herself

In: Alone

Countdown to the Night Parade: ???

Less than ??? remain
​

---

Meanwhile, Lialeth found the comfort of silence and isolation often otherwise impossible in a city like Red Haven. She may have felt safe for the moment, but she had been ensnared in something akin to purgatory. The trap sprung by Smiling Jack would have worked if not for the efforts of the trio as a team. Lialeth seemed bound and fated to suffer through this for her kindness, however. Such was the way of things.

As her fingers fumbled with the coin, she watched it turn in the air enough to quantify a "flip". This would connect her to Decimus's coin, which would vibrate at some point between entering the Sweet Tooth Candy Emporium and replying to Beatrice's kind words. The coin would open a communications channel once Decimus took it up into his hand. The conversation they had would be rife with static, but legible enough for a common understanding to be made. Once they were done talking, Lialeth would have to make what she could of the situation. She was alone, physically, but still had some kind of connection to her friends. She had an anchor. She had hope.

She would hunt for the tallest building in sight and within reasonable distance. The doors, for the most part, seemed unlocked. She could go where she wanted to, almost as if being trapped here constituted her being some kind of phantom. Perhaps this was how Smiling Jack operated with such cruel efficiency. Perhaps this is why the song warned to lock the windows and bar the doors...

Lialeth had no time to waste. She... couldn't tell the time at all. Even the nearest clocktower failed to register any sort of temporal shift. The face of its dial glowed eerily in the distance, almost as of it was staring directly at her through the dense fog. But she found a way into a building. It was an apartment complex.

She would be able to see the conditions the common folk within Red Haven lived in. The appalling squalor drenched each and every hallway in an oily presence. Evidence of people long gone and yet to arrive littered the floor. Broken bottles once held temporary relief to lost dreamers. Locked doors kept reality at bay. Some were bolted and chained, unoccupied and guarded like gold. A room near the top floor was left open, however.

Curiosity would have to wait. She walked up the final flight of stairs and pushed against the door to the rooftop. It swung open with a rusty whine. She shouted for someone, anyone, to hear her. Nothing.

Her cries were met with silence. Abject, cold, and smothering.

Yet for all the hopeless nothingness that came of this... a noise did follow her.

A gentle meow stirred from the stairs.

"You okay?" Crowley approached her slowly, noticing the injuries she accumulated along her legs.

"Oh no, Lialeth, I'm so sorry!"

He didn't get too close. He didn't want to startle her.

 

[Revi]

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

---

Location: The White Keys Lobby
​

Lona's expression softened, and she gave Decimus a grateful nod.

"Thank you for not brushing me aside," she said. "I know I may not have the skills or experience you do, but I can't stand by knowing there's something I might be able to do—even if it's small." She looked at him earnestly. "Whatever this is—I’d rather face it head-on with some chance to make a difference."

As Decimus outlined his thoughts on their next steps, her gaze sharpened, taking in each of the landmarks he mentioned. "The Sweet Tooth Candy Emporium… with that eerie Smiling Jack symbol everywhere?" She rubbed her arms as though brushing off the chill of the past hour. "If the constructs can still find those places, then maybe… maybe they're there with Lialeth. Somewhere we can't see. Same as the missing girls."

​

---

Location: Red Haven Town Square​

As they stepped out onto the crowded square, Lona's senses were immediately assailed by the bustling energy of Red Haven in the evening. Shadows danced across the intricate facades of the baroque buildings, their ornate carvings highlighted by flickering gaslights. The square was alive with life, an odd juxtaposition to the unnatural horrors they had just fled. People moved in swirls and clusters, voices overlapping in a warm hum of laughter and conversation that barely hid an undertone of unease. The city felt like it was watching them, just out of sight, but for now, it was covered by the anonymity of the crowd.

She hadn't yet shaken the image of Smiling Jack. His skeletal grin seared into her mind like a brand, a grotesque reminder of everything she didn't yet understand. The strange weight of the bell in her pouch kept her tethered to the reality of what had happened upstairs, but the lively scene before her fought to convince her otherwise. Her steps were steady beside Decimus, her pulse slowly calming. The glint of something metallic caught her eye, and Lona turned her head to find a mirror set in a large frame beside one of the nearby shops. There, reflected back at her, were Decimus' constructs—standing still and steady among the shifting crowd—yet the actual robots were missing here in the square itself.

"They're here… but not," she murmured.

Her breath hitched slightly, and a strange chill crept over her. She reached out, pressing her fingers lightly against the glass as if it might ripple beneath her touch. It was as though they existed in a parallel world—close yet just beyond reach.

"It's like… they're on the other side of a veil," she whispered, feeling a strange sense of awe and unease mingle within.

She glanced at her own reflection, almost expecting to see some mark of the curse Jack had inflicted on her. Still, her face appeared as it always did, though perhaps a bit paler, and her eyes a touch wider than before. She glanced at Decimus, searching his face for any sign that he knew the answer, that he could see what she saw, and then gave a soft, thoughtful sigh.

"This place… everything here is in two worlds at once, isn't it? Maybe more..."

---

Location: Sweet Tooth Candy Emporium​

The candy shop, Sweet Tooth Candy Emporium, with its bright colours and soft light, stood in stark contrast to the dim streets outside. It felt like stepping through a portal; the warmth of the shop washed over her, filling her senses with the nostalgic sweetness of powdered sugar, caramel, and chocolate. The pastel walls and cheerful décor created a sanctuary of sorts, a realm untouched by the grim, uncanny horror they had just escaped. The warm, sugary, and buttery smells of confectionary delights threw Lona back to childhood moments learning to bake with her mother. What she'd give for a freshly baked and fudge-y chocolate brownie.

Before she could fully take it all in, a joyous squeal broke through the gentle clinking of glass jars, and a woman bustled out from behind the counter. Lona watched, both charmed and surprised, as Beatrice, who seemed to embody confectionery delight, approached them, clapping her sugar-dusted hands together in greeting. The woman's hat bobbed with her movement, resembling a fluffy tower of pink cotton candy, and her cheeks were as round and rosy as if she'd tasted every sweet in the shop. Beatrice's infectious energy lifted Lona's spirits, and she couldn't help but smile. The strangeness of the evening momentarily faded under the woman's overflowing jovial nature.

“It’s a fine evening indeed, Beatrice," Lona replied, smiling warmly, her voice conveying relief as she took in the cosy atmosphere. "Though perhaps a bit stranger than we'd expected."

The thought of Smiling Jack still lurked at the back of her mind, but for now, she chose to focus on the task ahead. She exchanged a brief look with Decimus, the unspoken understanding passing between them as they prepared to delve deeper.

"We're looking into some… events, and we," she cast her eyes to Decimus before returning to Beatrice, "think some of your treats might help us find a few answers."

She stepped back slightly from the counter so that Decimus could approach since he was far more in 'the know' than she was. Her eyes scanned the room, looking for any sign of these Smiling Jack sweets on the shelves.

 

[Maxxob]

Decimus Valerius

Spoiler: Minions

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

Mephisto IanThe170 Revi


“Don’t mention it. We will get things squared away, I’m sure of this.” The old veteran answered Lona’s appreciation with a confidence that didn’t have anything tangible for purchase. But Decimus preferred not to dwell too much on that. Nodding, he continued to the freckled girl next query. “That is right. The candy shop might have some hidden clue that could very well unwrap this… mystery, let’s call it. Or, at the very least, point us at the right direction.” The man rationalized, starting to accept that the conventional methods of investigation didn’t apply for this case at all. “Let’s hope that be the case for all of them: both the girls and Lialeth.”

Walking through the streets of Red Haven, Decimus observed the rapid moving about of its denizens. The whole city was alive, but at the same time it wasn’t. It was an odd feeling, one which he didn’t have experienced in Clockhaven and certainly not back in the East Empire. But he supposed that it was how that city was.

And, following the hint left behind by his constructs, he walked through those streets, at Lona’s side. Every few steps, a drag of his smoking pipe would be accompanied by a plume of smoke, leaving the very corner of his mouth. The very act calmed his nerves, something that even someone as shell-shocked as he was needed in some measure.

Arriving at the square, a white eyebrow raised on his face. From the feedback he received from the mechanoids, the pair was in the correct place in which the machines should have been, but they weren’t there. Had their tracker malfunctioned? Or maybe it wasn’t properly calibrated to begin with? He which one it was, at least, not until he peered into the mirror of one of the nearby stores.

On its reflection, the old man could clearly see his constructs but, when trying to turn around, nothing was there. It was bizarre, otherworldly, just like some vile Fae magic! The very thought made the man instinctively turn his head towards the road and spit in disgust. “I’ve never seen anything like this.” His tone had a mix of bewilderment and distaste.

And, while Lona had the confirmation of what she had seen was real, in some form, that was as much as certainty that Decimus could offer her. “Two worlds… can’t say I’m aware of any world that isn’t this one, but a [Pocket Dimension], maybe?” That was his hunch. He knew the existence of such things, even if he couldn’t use one. But still, a mirror that is able to peer into one of them? Why?

Inside the Sweet Tooth Candy Emporium, the smell of the sweets quickly reached Decimus’ nostrils. The colorful nature of the shop itself brought a raise eyebrow, once more, into the face of the weathered cadet. It was such a stark contrast with the city he had seen so far, it almost felt like they were in a different place entirely.

Thankfully, the owner of the establishment, Beatrice, was apparently normal. And by normal, in Decimus’ mind, meant someone who was very different from Limestone, the hotel owner. And, considering the hotel owner, only then a thought flashed through the old veteran’s mind: maybe he should have been warned of the creature hounding one of its floors? Welp, too late for that.

“A nice and very hectic evening…” He added, his attention focused on the plump woman. “... I’m interested on those wrapped chocolate candies with the stag on them, related to the Night Parade and Twilight Carnival? Or maybe the stag is the one related to both. Curious thing really, I’ve noticed it is a rather common theme around here, hmm?” That was what he chose for his initial prodding.

 

[IanThe170]

Lialeth Vianno
​

It seemed that the communication with Decimus had failed. She supposed there wasn't any possibility with contact to the outside world after all even with the magic coin. It seems she might have to figure out what she could within this world, if she wanted to escape or help anyone else trapped in here. Actually, thinking back on it now... She had no clue how big this place actually was. Was it a whole world? That would be more than just a terrifying thought, as she doubted that in a world as big as that the only dangerous thing could be the Smiling Jack. For now, she purged any thoughts like that in favor of not making the situation more complicated than it already was. One thing at a time...

Despite her success in being able to make it to a rooftop, she just could not feel happy about it. She did not have particularly high standards, nor did Lialeth have much expectations from what she had seen thus far already, but... She could not help, but feel pity. It was the only thing to feel as she made it to the rooftop. There was nothing she could really do about the situation as it stood now. Nothing except feel pity for the people who live here. Or well, who live here outside of here.

It seemed Lialeth could not see too much and her screams simply echoed out of existence slowly. She had to wonder, if perhaps they were somewhere inside one of the numerous buildings within the city or in the worst case scenario already perished. Or perhaps even there was more than one world they could be brought too. Or perhaps... She was finally embraced by death for the second and final time.

Thankfully, whilst deep in her thoughts, she broke out of them in a flash upon hearing a meow behind her. Turning around she saw that Crowley was certainly alive and well. So unless they were sharing the same corner of purgatory, she would not be dying quite yet. "I'm quite fine, thank you for asking!" It was plain to see just how fine she was, but still, she could not help, but smile and respond.

For now Lialeth decided to sit down on the ground to continue the conversation, she had to preserve her legs the best she could. Not that she was hopeful of escaping anything that chased her currently, but still. She'd have to travel a fair bit and investigate what she could, so it was important to get any short breaks she could.

Although she was quite surprised to see Crowley apologize to her... Especially since he may have saved her life by appearing right when he did, had the creature decided to slash away at something else, rather than simply bringing her to wherever this was.

"Don't worry, it is alright! Stuff like this always happens when I try to help people!"

Lialeth simply looked confused for a moment. Wondering what in the world she just said, especially as there was a slight harshness in her voice as she did. Clearly taken aback by what she just said, she stammered out a response to herself almost immediately.

"I-I'm sorry if that sounded uhm, rude, it was not my intention..!"

Was she getting stressed out by the situation? Agitated by her injuries? It didn't matter, she would simply need to keep her head cool. There were lives on the line here after all.

"Uhm, did you manage to find the girls? Although, since you are here, I am guessing... probably not..."

 

[Mephisto]

---

Once Upon a Time​

---

Featuring:
| Revi | Maxxob |
As themselves

In: The Candy Caper

Countdown until the Night Parade: two days and three nights

Less than 72 hours remain
​

---

Beatrice seemed to be quite the busy woman. She had ovens firing over various baked goods, the smells of which were potent enough already. Her counter had colorful glass handles that innocently invited Decimus and Lona to investigate. The drink flavors of her fountain station were as delightful as the candies all along the walls. She even advertised a pharmacy and possessed a specialized board that rolled medicine into balls of sweet, spongy dough. She moved her attention from Lona to Decimus, delighted and excited that they were interested in what she had to sell - and say!

"Oh, my darlings, I think I might have some in the back," she went to an oven and started to insert a large paddle to fetch something from the very back.

"They're impossibly popular this time of year, I'm afraid. Everyone wants to pay homage to old Smiling Jack!" she giggled, fetching exactly what she wanted and shutting the enormous oven hatch with her round hip.

She hummed something sweet and shoveled the freshly baked chocolate chip cookies one at a time using an ornate flowered spatula. She placed the majority of them behind the glass screen, but deliberately left two on a pair of soft napkins for the two investigators. She didn't say anything as she disappeared into the back area behind the impressive arrays of ovens.

Both Lona and Decimus received a delicious chocolate chip cookie! These delectable examples of the finer arts of Red Haven were exactly crispy enough along the bottom and edges to qualify as such - not a step above! Crunchy was not in Beatrice's vocabulary as far as these cookies. They were, of course, fully cooked and possessed an interior as soft as the softest feather pillows. The chocolate chips weren't overly sweet or bitter, and had just the right consistency that one would easily forget there was even sugar in them. They were just that smooth!

Beatrice returned with a huff, holding a sealed box.

"I'm sorry, my lovelies, but I only have a few left. The last batch went out to someone named Killer Carl... awful name, but that's just how Red Haven is these days," she sighed.

"How I miss the days of musicians like Booker Saltfish and Marilyn Morose," she seemed to be lost in some kind of distant memory. "Oh, and Edith Carlisle! She was a woman of class,"

"Tell you what, I can tell you as much as I know while I make just one special stag head for you,"

She eagerly put her hands together, already wanting to move towards the mixing station and work her confectionery magic.

---

The World Felt Slower​

---

Featuring:
| IanThe170 |
As herself

In: Alone

Countdown to the Night Parade: ???

Less than ??? remain
​

---

Crowley rolled his eyes, shaking his fur and popping out a set of bandages, gauze, and medicinal ointment from his little personal [Pocket Dimension]. He caught them with his claws and teeth, setting about cleaning Lialeth's obviously painful injuries as best as his limited anatomy would allow. All things considered, he did quite the effective and quick job. He set the unused materials back into the void and looked at Lialeth with a slight tilt to his head.

"You're... scrambled, aren't you?" he squinted.

"You sound like Alice when she tried to make up a story for her new ear piercings," he remarked with a warm chuckle.

"And no. Everything's... strange here. I can't describe it but it's like there isn't a temperature. No current. It's all just... still,"

Crowley hopped onto the nearby ledge and looked out over the grey miasma of the "city" around them. He kept his pale yellow eyes within Lialeth's field of view, not once wanting her to distrust him again. He felt like a fool.

True to his words, the unnerving atmosphere hung omnipresent. The clocktower didn't so much as twitch. The neon lights captured in this snapshot of reality didn't even buzz.

"I found those robots your Widersian friend had. They got abducted too,"

He scouted a bit more and gestured for Lialeth to walk over and see for herself. When she would peer over the barricade, she would see the automatons standing in place making all sorts of noises and giving each and every light of theirs a blinking flash.

"They've been standing there for as long as I can tell - haven't budged an inch,"

Even from this distance, Lialeth could hear them giving monotone coordinates to - presumably - Decimus. Over and over again, as if trapped in some sort of trance while being separated from their master. Crowley sat down and watched whatever Lialeth would do.

"I really am sorry for all of this. He was waiting for something, and I was waiting for him. I just needed one chance so I took it, not thinking of what I'd do afterwards. I didn't mean for you to get dragged along as well. But, we're here now so... let's help each other out - no tricks this time,"

He held out his paw for her to shake.

---

 

[Maxxob]

Decimus Valerius

Spoiler: Minions

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

Mephisto IanThe170 Revi


Decimus watched the plump lady move about, sharpening his senses to what she might say. “So, Smiling Jack is not popular all year round?” The elderly man asked, wondering if the rise in popularity of the grotesque being had to do with either the events taking place in Red Haven or just the time of the year.

Watching her go towards the back of the store, eyeing the cookies that she had purposely left both Lona and him. He had no idea if ginger girl was planning to consume it, but maybe, because of being on edge, he decided not to. The old veteran would pick up the cookie, wrap the handkerchief fully around it, before placing inside one of his pockets. It was a pity that he would end up missing its unique fluffy and impressive qualities, but he was just that more cautious at the moment.

“Killer Carl? Now, that one very unusual and curious name.” He said in fake surprise, not wanting to ring any bells about the knowledge he already possessed. “Did this client came here by himself to pick up the candies? Or did he have them delivered? It would be quite… helpful if we could find and have a chat with the chap.” With his mind working overtime, he pressed on and fabricated the ‘why’.

“You see, we found quite a few of these candies laced with all sorts of drugs being passed around. Even to children.” Without missing a beat and neither showing any change of his expression, he continued. “Every little shred of information, no matter how inconsequential you might have, about Killer Carl, any other client that bought a considerable amount of these and everything behind Smiling Jack would help us greatly.”

 

[Revi]

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

---

Location: Sweet Tooth Candy Emporium​

Lona's fingers brushed the soft napkin holding the cookie, its warmth faint against her skin. The smells of the shop—the chocolate, the sugar, the faint hint of something caramelized—wrapped around her like a comforting blanket. However, she cautioned herself to remain sharp. She watched as Decimus questioned Beatrice, his tone measured, his words precise. Lona found herself quietly marvelling at the veteran's calm, calculating demeanour. His methodical approach was a grounding force amidst the chaos. Her eyes flicked to the stag candies Beatrice had retrieved, their symbolic weight far heavier than their sugar-laden forms.

“I must ask," she added softly, her voice dipping with genuine curiosity. "How did Smiling Jack become known as what he is today? Was there a time 'before' all this dark business? Exactly what happened to make him such a figure of homage for this season?"

Echoing Decimus' question. Her curiosity was genuine, and she hoped her questions might reveal a deeper understanding of the city's mysteries—or at least shed light on the connections between the sinister and the sweet. When Beatrice mentioned Killer Carl, Lona's focus sharpened, her freckled brow furrowing slightly. She glanced at the cookie in her hand, its simplicity almost mocking the complexity of the situation they were attempting to unravel.

"This place," she continued, motioning faintly to the shop's pastel charm, "feels like a bright spot in all this darkness. But sometimes, even the brightest places cast long shadows. This Killer Carl—if he's connected in any way to what's happening, even a small detail about his visits could be vital. Anything unusual, even if it seemed harmless at the time."

Lona's gaze didn't waver, her freckled features set with a quiet resolve. She wasn't sure how much Beatrice would be able—or willing—to share, but every piece of the puzzle mattered. Every step forward brought them closer to understanding—and to those who still needed saving. She hesitated briefly, her thoughts catching on Decimus' claim about drugs. She was late to the scene of their investigation and hadn't been entirely up to speed, yet the detail seemed off - despite how straight he gave it. The seriousness of the accusation didn't sit well with her, but she trusted there was a reason behind it.

Her eyes dropped to the cookie again, its chocolate chip bits melting into the napkin, using her abilities in alchemy and botany to see if by smell could ascertain anything suspect - now that drug laced goodies was the topic of conversation. It wasn't fair that it looked and smelled so good...

​

 

[IanThe170]

Lialeth Vianno
​

Having proper first aid given to Laileth certainly helped the situation. Well, still in very limited amounts, but it was the best she could hope for right now. Unfortunately, however, she could not exactly sow parts back to her dress, not that she would be particularly inclined to do so, considering they were covered in blood, but still. "Thank you!" Standing and walking would still be a a fair bit of a pain, but it simply meant she should try and focus on going to places of actual importance if she could figure out what they were.

Lialeth looked awkwardly away on Crowley's comment about her being a bit scattered, as it seemed that he was having his own little flashback of the girls, so she decided to ask a question about the situation. "How did the girls end up getting cursed anyways? It seems like it is not entirely random..."

She took a look at the army of robots that decimus had with him usually, noticing that they were lounging around, but didn't pay them too much heed. "I tried communicating with Decimus earlier, so I doubt we would get into contact with him through those robots, unfortunately. I think we may be cut off almost entirely."

"You really don't need to apologize! You simply did what you had to do to save the girls! So let us simply try our best and help the girls together, alright?" She would then proceed with the somewhat awkward handshake. She had shaken hands with cats before, but usually when playing with them, but she'd do her best to keep her instincts in check here.

Regardless, for now she could only think of one more place to explore here, the single open room in seemingly the entire building. "Well then, let us explore this place first."

 

[Mephisto]

---

Once Upon a Time​

---

Featuring:
| Revi | Maxxob |
As themselves

In: The Candy Caper

Countdown until the Night Parade: two days and three nights

Less than 72 hours remain

Beatrice

Occupation: confectioner, baker, pharmacist, soda fountain operator, and owner of the Sweet Tooth Candy Emporium

Height: 4' 10"

Weight: such a rude question!

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

Text Colors: #F8C8DC
​

---

The sweet old lady's face contorted into an expression of such raw shock and horror that it seemed she was about to burst into tears then and there. She let out a small wailing groan, as if she had been shot in one of her lungs, and sobbed. Tears cut paths along her face through the powdered sugar and flour accumulating in her wrinkles. She looked up at Decimus so pathetically that it would had been labeled abuse if anyone were to walk in on the conversation.

"Noooo!" she cried out, hurriedly meandering throughout the staging area for her innocent sweet treats.

"NOOOO! Please, mister, please say it isn't so!!"

She had to make sure that the pharmacy hadn't been tampered with. It was extensively locked and barred, with only her secret key being the one to even budge the security precautions. She came back in a huff, obviously flustered by Decimus's vile warning and any other such portents of doom and despair. She produced a box cutter and stabbed into the heart of the box set aside for Killer Carl.

"Well, if he's poisoning my precious chocolates then he can go without his order for another week or so. Such a naughty little thing that beast is!"

She opened the box labeled for the mysterious man and pried the lid apart for the investigators to observe properly. The stag skull-shaped candies were individually wrapped in ornate purple and orange paper folded to preserve the pattern and reduce interference from changing temperatures. She pulled two from the collection and handed one each to both Decimus and Lona.

"Please, darlings, these are fresh from my confectionery. They haven't been tampered with, do whatever you deem necessary to test them but I insist they are delicious!"

She wrung her hands together nervously, but there was now an obvious tinge of anger towards Killer Carl. Her heavy knuckles were like walnuts, calloused and beaten by pounding hot sugar into shape and wrestling with enormous metal cranks, levers, and rolling pins.

"The next time I see that cat-faced heathen I am going to... OOOOOH!! He makes me livid, darlings,"

She was leaning now into her recollections of the man Decimus had been hunting down information about ever since the mystery was entrusted to him and Lialeth many hours prior. She inhaled slowly and began telling her story.

"Killer Carl and his Ink Blots - that's what he calls his little band. They're horrible folks, but I always thought that customers were customers... toying with an old woman's heart is sinful though - and poisoning the poor children using her candy is a ticket straight to the Hells!!!" she roared, banging her wrecking ball of a fist against the counter.

"I'm sorry, darlings," she huffed. "They're nefarious little goblins that play for the casinos all throughout the Hearts District - mostly the Bad Beat. He thinks he's such a hotshot. He even shows up at the Twilight Carnival but he's never a headlining act! I think he's just jealous. Jealous and bitter! That's why he's taking it out on the children, what a pest!!"

She crossed her arms over her chest and pouted.

"To think he's even allowed to have his silly little game up and running is a travesty,"

Beatrice tried to focus herself and calmed down extensively quite quickly when Lona chimed in with another addition to the Smiling Jack question. She seemed to like Lona and adjusted her small round glasses to get a better look at the gorgeous young woman.

"Sweetie, you're asking quite the tall question. Are you sure you two have time?"

She tapped her fingers together and - if they did have time - she would oblige them with a story.

"That all begins with how Red Haven came to be in the first place. A long time ago, this was a simple crossroads between the Fae See and Widersia - an unofficial bridge between the two countries. As things became larger and grander, expanding into wars and pain and suffering... well, traffic started becoming shops. Shops became neighborhoods. Neighborhoods became districts. Soon enough, the city just sprouted up almost overnight. But the kinds of folk that frequented this part of the world weren't all hospitable and... kind. Criminals, gangs, gamblers, and all sorts of people looking for all sorts of trouble poured into the area. It became a haven for the poor folk, but things like that always came at a price. That's why it's called Red Haven,"

She sighed, as if remembering this from firsthand experience.

"Fae magic and Widersian technology blended here like a storm. Towers rose up. The Districts became more defined. Clubs, Diamonds, Hearts, Spades... and at the center of it all: the Devil's Playground. There's no telling how many organizations have come and gone, my darlings. Constant bloodshed. Fortunes in your pocket and stolen just as quickly. Over the course of all that violence... beings started to emerge from the shadows. The richest and most influential became known as Patrons and took their place scattered throughout the Districts. They're nothing but heartless warlords, pitting gangs against each other for entertainment and profit,"

Her limbs were shaking with an untold anxiety... or perhaps rage.

"Under them are the Cryptids, weird and untamed beings who answer to nobody except the Patrons. They're complete wildcards, doing whatever they want whenever they want and not caring about who gets hurt or why. There are certain rules when dealing with Cryptids but it's impossible to know absolutely everything. Minding your own business is the best piece of advice I can give you... but one of those bastards has made it personal. That's right, sweeties,"

She looked at them with all seriousness in her heart.

"Killer Carl is a Cryptid, and a powerful one at that. As for Smiling Jack... I can tell you something that'll save you when you meet him. I can tell you his real name,"

---

The World Felt Slower​

---

Featuring:
| IanThe170 |
As herself

In: Alone

Countdown to the Night Parade: ???

Less than ??? remain

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
​

---

Crowley led Lialeth down as carefully and as slowly as he dared, keeping his eyes pinned to the wounds on her legs as well as the bloodstains on her dress. He didn't make so much as a sound. He didn't overstay his welcome at her side and guided her towards the open door they both passed on the way up here. He investigated everything he could see and hear, sniffing and pawing at the slightest bit of curious or otherworldly presence.

"I... I don't know when they were cursed," he admitted. "It happened so quickly, even if it was right in front of me. They must have passed someone, somewhere, and were marked that way. I've watched them night and day for as long as I've existed. They told me to mind the room since they were going out for a quick breakfast trip. I remember asking for some scrambled eggs,"

He chuckled slightly.

"As soon as they closed the door, I heard Alice check the lock like she always did. Then nothing. I didn't even smell them. I just smelled that shadow bastard. I knew it was him, too. He must have known that I was made up of their souls. I caught him trying to get inside after he took the girls and gave him a good slash on his left hand. I smelled him ever since, lingering and waiting to complete his meal. I know he wanted their souls, otherwise I'd be gone. He can't eat their souls without eating me too,"

He shook his head and stretched, seemingly at ease for the moment.

"That's a huge contingency plan their father made for me. He knew I could fight off the majority of threats that ate human flesh and bones. Souls, however, were the food of stranger beings - beings that could evade my senses if only for a split second. It's a good idea, but for the moment I'm completely at a loss,"

Crowley dared to investigate deeper into the open apartment. The open concept kitchen, dining, and living area were all clustered together facing a boarded-up window. To the right was a spare closet area. To the left was the bedroom and bathroom. He wanted to see something in the bathroom and stopped there, flicking the light on with his tail as he jumped onto the sink.

"I do have a theory. Smiling Jack's dumb little song tells people to beware and lock their doors and windows. Think about it for a second. This is some kind of weird mirror version of Red Haven... what if he found a different way around his own rules and stipulations?"

True to Crowley's words, the mirror Lialeth would be staring into was solid black. More a pool of oil than glass, it rippled and bubbled at the touch. She would be able to crawl inside, but there was no telling where she would end up. Would she be invading the owner of this apartment? Was it locked? Was it even occupied?

"We'll need to keep thinking like this freak if we're going to find the girls and get out of here in one piece. Alice and Lydia came here to watch the Night Parade and to visit the Twilight Carnival, but they kept talking about some kind of... nightclub. They wanted to see if they could visit... damn it! What was the name?"

Crowley bonked his little head with his tiny paw as he tried finding the right words. A brochure poked a corner out from his flank, his personal pocket dimension giving Lialeth a little hint since the cat was so caught up in blaming himself. If she were to pull it out, it would be a Night Parade pamphlet... but with a Black Goat informational packet stuffed inside as if to hide it from Crowley's prying eyes.

No wonder he couldn't remember what it was - the girls were careful to not tell him directly!

---

 

[Maxxob]

Decimus Valerius

Spoiler: Minions

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

Mephisto IanThe170 Revi


Decimus certainly wasn’t expecting for his gamble to pay off so bountifully. Keeping up a straight face, the old veteran listened to Beatrice’s apparent, and understandable, raw display of anger towards Killer Carl. “We understand how the actions of Killer Carl upset you, rightfully so, but don’t you worry. We will get this sorted out.” Offering the reassurance, his gloved hand darted out to take the offered wrapped candy.

Holding it between his thumb and index, his ashen-colored eyes focused on it, examining its exterior as if searching for any clue he might acquire from it. The surface of the wrapping paper was smooth, contrasting with the slight roughness of his gloves. Letting out a tentative hum, his eyes raised from the candy back to plump lady.

“Hearts District, Bad Beat…” He repeated those names, committing them to memory as their next destination. And, just as he was preparing to head out, Lona asked about Smiling Jack. The faintest of smiles appeared on his lips, one that he had to control to not form a full grin. She sure was a sharp one, thinking of a way to tap into that subject without looking like a lunatic. Clever girl.

The veteran raised an eyebrow as the tale of Red Haven origins begun, curiosity etched on his visage. He knew little about the city, so every piece of information was news for him. “Cryptids?” The unfamiliar term was certain an interesting one, even more with the description given by Beatrice. Let’s see how bulletproof they are. Decimus thought to himself, already predicting and not fearing engagement.

Yet, one piece of information brought the man’s senses to their zenith, eyes widening before returning to normal. Removing his glasses, Decimus cleaned its lenses against his uniform. It looks like the rage brought from his lie was going to reward the pair with every bit of information they needed. “And what would his real name be?”

 

[Revi]

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

---

Lona's features softened with sympathy at the woman's raw frustration and anger, the woman was utterly distraught at the idea. Deeming the cookie safe and waste to not enjoy it, she dug in and began eating it—with gusto.

She glanced at the candy Beatrice had offered, taking it gently with her free hand but not yet unwrapping it. The stag's skull printed on the wrapper was unnervingly vivid, the design almost seeming to stare back at her. She tucked the sweet carefully into her pouch, not yet ready to risk even the slightest taste, no matter Beatrice's assurances. Lona trusted that Beatrice hadn't done anything untoward. Still, consuming a symbol of an otherworldly creature seemed like an act of manifestation she wasn't willing to commit to.

Didn't old myths used to say if you ate food in the land of the fae, you'd be trapped there?

Her fingers brushed the bell, and she could hear the metallic shhshing scrape of the clapper rolling inside the inner wall. Her thoughts flashed back to Crowley tapping the bell before pulling a fish out of himself. She had an idea... but she would wait until they had stepped outside so she could ask Decimus a question before taking any actions on hunches.

She took mental notes of the details on Killer Carl as Beatrice angrily raved about his reputation and character. Cat-faced, goblin, ink blots, band, game... game?

"He has a game stand at the Twilight Carnival? Or do you mean the band?" She trailed off, curious if there was something more, or perhaps just colloquial misunderstanding.

Lona leaned forward, returning her attention to Beatrice. Her fingers curled slightly as she balanced her weight on the counter, captivated by the history lesson she was getting on Red Haven. She took her last bite of the delicious warm cookie; admittedly, it really should have been two bites.

"Under them are the Cryptids..."

"I knew it!" Lona exclaimed suddenly, mumbling and garbling around a mouthful of cookies at the mention of Cryptids. Something about this had been giving her 'vibes' already, and she'd been pushing stories about haints and wampus cats to the back of her brain, trying to not think too hard about such things. Bashfully, she shut her mouth again, having finished eating, and used the clean side of the napkin to wipe her face. She found more chocolate on it than she'd expected... can't take me anywhere, I swear...

She looked back up at Beatrice, genuinely appreciative of her divulging so much information, and said, "If knowing his real name gives us any kind of edge, or even just a chance to protect ourselves, please—tell us. I promise we'll use it wisely. All of your assistance towards our endeavour and the sweets are greatly appreciated."

 

[Mephisto]

---

Once Upon a Time​

---

Featuring:
| Revi | Maxxob |
As themselves

In: The Candy Caper

Countdown until the Night Parade: two days and three nights

Less than 72 hours remain

Beatrice

Occupation: confectioner, baker, pharmacist, soda fountain operator, and owner of the Sweet Tooth Candy Emporium

Height: 4' 10"

Weight: such a rude question!

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

Text Colors: #F8C8DC
​

---

Beatrice winked at Lona's excitement for the Cryptids and tapped her own nose, giving her all the indication she needed to know that she was in good company. She scurried back behind the far corner behind the ovens, this time hanging a right, and unlocked some kind of door - presumably her office. She spent a moment or two looking around before returning to the counter and lifting the divider between the staging area and the store itself.

"Come dearies, it's all a dark secret here in town. I can't say anything too loudly," she urged them to follow her.

She meant no harm. Even here, amidst the boxes scheduled for delivery, it smelled pleasant and dreamlike. This place truly was a pillow in a city full of dangers. She corralled them to her office, where she kept her walls lined with newspaper clippings and magazine articles. There was a definite theme - music artists. She had a particular fondness for performers and entertainers from a specific era of Red Haven's past, perhaps forty or fifty years ago. She rummaged through her desk and produced a large book.

"I had to remember where I hid it. Can't keep it out for long, my sweethearts, otherwise... he'll come knocking," she said dreadfully.

She cracked open the tome, showing off a collection of clippings dedicated to a man Decimus would be familiar with. He was standing there, clean-shaven and smiling, young and upbeat. Lona had no idea who it was but as soon as Beatrice pointed at the headline it sank into the Widersian soldier's heart like a blade.

Spoiler: BREAKING NEWS:

Beloved Bar Singer, Roger North, Loses Twin Girls in Flash Flood

"Those familiar with Red Haven's loud and raucous Clubs District will no doubt also be fans of a certain silver-haired entertainer who has stolen hearts all over the city. Roger North, whose escapades elevate him to the uppermost tiers of singers of this Golden Age of Music, has one more reason to sing - and also the only reason he ever needs to hang up the microphone forever. Tragedy struck Red Haven when a freak storm flooded the northern banks of the metropolitan river, causing the bridges and streets to overflow. Roger North's children, who snuck out past curfew to see their father perform, were suddenly swept out to sea..."

Beatrice choked up once she saw it.

"I remember it like it was yesterday," she covered her mouth in horror. "Their bodies were never found. He kept looking for them... but that's when he met the wrong man,"

---

 

[Maxxob]

Decimus Valerius

Spoiler: Minions

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

Mephisto IanThe170 Revi
To the old man’s surprise, it seemed like Lona knew about these allusive Cryptids, whatever they were. His ashen gaze shifted towards the young, freckled woman for a moment, wondering where she got that sort of information. Then again, the important part would be how to deal with one, seeing that they might very well be against one of these creatures.

Without preamble, Decimus followed behind Beatrice as the old, plump woman guided them to her office. For a moment, he was lost looking around it, taking in the peculiar musical theme which adorned the place. Walking over one specific article, the old man cocked his head to the side, reading the headlines with the dates. “Some of these are from before the war.” He mentioned, scanning the contents of the mentioned musical performer.

The old veteran then let out a long sigh, his mind thinking about what fate might have been in store for Widersia, now that both The See and The East Empire have struck a fragile, temporary peace. That isn’t good… that isn’t good at all. He thought to himself. Ideally, both countries should have been burned themselves to the ground, but that wasn’t the reality.

Turning around, his mind was back at the present order of business, attention fully given to Beatrice. The words that came from the old lady made Daddymus’ right hand move to the handle of his holstered pistol by reflex, even with how fruitless was its usage previously. That thing could sense whenever one was peering into its business? The very notion was nothing short of insane, but then again, wasn’t it pure insanity what they experienced back at the hotel?

“Very well, let’s take a quick, scanning look at it.” Eager to see whatever Beatrice was going to show the pair, Decimus ended up seeing a familiar face, which made creases form on his forehead, along with a raised brow. “Detective North was a singer?” He asked, only seeking confirmation from news clipping who told them all of it. Not only that, but his twin daughters had disappeared, just like in that very case. Was this his attempt of redemption or find closure? Was that was he was involved in this case to begin with?

“And who was this wrong man?”

 

[Revi]

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

---

Lona caught Decimus' glance at her when she reacted to the word Cryptids. She shifted her weight slightly, her fingers brushing the strap of her bag as if grounding herself before she offered an explanation.

"Back where I'm from, we had things like 'em. Shadows in the trees, voices calling your name when no one's there…" She continued on as they both followed Beatrice to her office. "...even the real wicked ones, like the Bell Witch or the Flatwoods Monster. Things you couldn’t always see, but you could feel. Rules to follow, too, if you wanted to see the next sunrise."

Her voice grew even quieter, more serious, as she recounted the unspoken rules of survival drilled into her from a young age. "You didn't whistle in the woods at night. If you heard something calling, no, you didn't. And if you saw something you couldn't explain, you didn't see that either. Putting bottles of water in your windows to scare the haints away, and or hanging a broom over your door to distract them - counting the bristles til sunrise. Ignoring 'em gave you the best odds. 'Cause attention? That's like an invitation. And some things only have power if you tell them you believe they're real." She shrugged lightly, the tension in her shoulders only half-hidden.

Lona met Decimus' gaze, her eyes steady and sharper now. "Of course, here it ain't just stories, is it? They're real enough to hurt people, to take them. But maybe the rules aren't all that different." She tapped a finger against her temple. "Don't feed their ego. Don't play their games. And if you're caught in their web… you've gotta outsmart 'em. That is assuming we've got enough cleverness between us." The last part was accompanied by a faint, self-deprecating smile.

When Beatrice produced the book and opened it, Lona leaned in, her freckled face drawn with a mix of apprehension and intrigue. Her gaze landed on the headline, and while the name Roger North didn't stir any personal recognition, the story's weight struck her immediately. The cheerful photograph of the singer juxtaposed with the devastating loss described in the article made her stomach twist.

"Beloved bar singer," Lona murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "Loses twin girls…" The words hung in the air like a sour taste, their weight pulling her deeper into the reality of what Beatrice was showing them. Lona noticed Decimus' hand instinctively shift toward his sidearm as Beatrice spoke, and though she kept her expression neutral, it didn't escape her that even he—grounded, pragmatic Decimus—was struggling with the implications of what they were learning.

Instead, her focus shifted back to Beatrice, who seemed visibly shaken. Lona reached out instinctively, placing a gentle hand on the older woman's arm. "It's okay, Beatrice," she said softly, her voice calm but tinged with urgency. "..Are You Saying?.."

She trailed off, unable to finish the thought aloud. Her mind filled in the blanks, piecing together a grim possibility. If this singer had crossed paths with the Wrong Man in his grief, seeking some impossible answer or resolution, what had it cost him? How did it all tie back to what was happening now—to the missing girls from the hotel, to Lialeth, to her and Decimus? Was this Detective Roger North... Smiling Jack... and responsible for the currently missing girls?? Playing out like an even darker and demented Jekyll and Hyde tale. Her hands inadvertently gripped tighter, both of them, one on Beatrice's arm and the other wrapping fully around Crowley's bell in her bag.

 

[IanThe170]

Lialeth Vianno
​

Lialeth made sure to listen carefully as Crowley spoke as anything could work as a clue, given their current predicament. Especially due to the unclear rules surrounding the cursing, how does it happen? Can it really be done all willy-nilly? Just any passerby on the street? And in that case everybody just collectively ignored this for years on end without much deeper thought? The last part made sense actually, but the former parts? No, there had to be some rhyme of reason to the curse to appear, it's not a contagious disease, which just moves about everywhere it can....

If there was one thing that made Lialeth quite worried in all of this, is that now, whatever time limit they might have had on saving the Morton girls, may be becoming shorter as they spoke... If the reason The Smiling Jack could not kill them was due to Crowley, well. Now it had both the girls and Crowley. If it needs to eat them together, in worse case scenario, it might be going after the girls right now. Of course, she was simply speculating, but... She wondered how good of an idea would it be to mention this to Crowley. Crowley had some kind of contingency plan here, but would it actually work against whatever the Smiling Jack was?

Although, a question arose to her regarding this: "Do you feel its scent right now? Or in this world in general?" Technically, another question had arose, but perhaps it would be best to ask it later...

Looking through the apartment, it did not look all that special, nor as enticing, as it once had, at least for the most part. That is, until she came across the mirror. Crowley's comment had sparked a bit of curiosity within her, so she poked the mirror with one of her fingers and would see if it would sink in or not. If it would indeed sink in, she would have a small favor to ask of Crowley, although she noticed Crowley looking a bit off when looking at it.

"Excuse me..."

She leaned in and tried to take the pamphlet, approaching carefully, as Crowley had clearly not been used to other humans and was being awkward around her for no reason whatsoever thus far. Lialeth quickly ran her eyes over it and handed it back. Or more like awkwardly tried to put the pamphlet back into him, buy showing the pamphlet against Crowleys forehead, as if trying to insert a credit card into an ATM.

And promptly after checking the pamphlet Lialeth would start start looking at the mirror again, as she did not wish to leave it alone for too long, as what if it went back to being a normal mirror.

"Could you please hold onto me for a bit, just in case?" She'd place the rather sudden request on Crowely, before placing her hands on the side frames of the mirror and plunging her head into the mirror and having a looksie.

 

[Mephisto]

---

Once Upon a Time​

---

Featuring:
| Revi | Maxxob |
As themselves

In: The Candy Caper

Countdown until the Night Parade: two days and three nights

Less than 72 hours remain

Beatrice

Occupation: confectioner, baker, pharmacist, soda fountain operator, and owner of the Sweet Tooth Candy Emporium

Height: 4' 10"

Weight: such a rude question!

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

Text Colors: #F8C8DC
​

---

Beatrice tilted her head once Decimus mentioned something about a detective by the same name. She gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, looking into his eyes with a sweet and tender gaze. She seemed incredibly sad, but also confused.

"Darling," she began, her voice cracking from the strain of the situation they had spiraled into.

She didn't want to expose them to the darker side of Red Haven, but from the sound of their questions she didn't have a choice. Smiling Jack already found them. That meant they were in this nightmare for the long haul. Escape was now a luxury.

"There... There is no Detective Roger North. I'm sorry," she smiled weakly at Decimus, knowing it didn't mean much.

"I think you were very fortunate to have met a shade - an echo of his personality. He's... He's still trying to do right, by the sound of things,"

She heard something from the front of the shop and quickly closed the book. She went for Lona's hand and gripped it tightly, intent on keeping her safe. She hid the contents of the tome back inside of her desk and sighed.

"The wrong man... Roger made a deal with a Patron - and not just any Patron. He made a deal with the worst one. He made a deal with the Man with the Long Shadow. We call him many things here in town, because saying his real name... it's dangerous," she looked at Lona carefully.

"Once you say his real name, you're inviting him into your life. When Roger lost his daughters he lost any reason to carry on. He sold his soul, and became Smiling Jack - a hound for his smiling master,"

She wordlessly inspected her shop as she moved back to the front part. She exhaled slowly. Nothing was amiss.

"He makes deals with anyone and everyone, preying on their pain and sorrow. He's the worst Patron in the city, a liar, a cheat, and a scoundrel most foul," she moved back towards Decimus and Lona.

She caught a glimpse of something in their eyes. She knew she couldn't talk them down from what they needed to do. She just gave them a weak smile.

"But you need to talk to him, don't you? Something terrible happened and it's all connected to poor Roger North, isn't it?"

She waddled over towards a piece of scrap paper and scribbled something on it. She handed the paper towards whoever would take it.

"The Black Goat

11PM to 3AM

M-E-P-H-I-S-T-O"
​

"Go there, it's a nightclub he frequents at those hours. That's how you spell his name... but please don't say it out loud. At least..." she rubbed her hands together, already regretting giving them this information.

She wrung them on her apron.

"At least say it when you absolutely have to... and when you do, don't make any deals!"

She pointed a finger at them, her serious grandmother voice snapping out along with the digit.

---

The World Felt Slower​

---

Featuring:
| IanThe170 |
As herself

In: Alone

Countdown to the Night Parade: ???

Less than ??? remain

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
​

---

Crowley shook his head at her first question.

"I haven't smelled anything since we got here," he admitted.

"I thought Smiling Jack had a distinct fire and brimstone odor. But now it's completely barren,"

He was about to say something else when Lialeth bonked him on the head with a pamphlet. He swiped at her in annoyance with a quick "Quit it!" but then realized what she was doing. He took the paper and unfurled it on the bathroom floor, reading about it with a few flicks of his tail here and there. He became so engrossed in reading up about it that he didn't watch what Lialeth was doing with the mirror.

When she did look through it, her head and shoulders popped out of the same mirror... but on the other side. Here, the colors weren't saturated. It was a one-to-one of their environment on the side of the mirror her legs and Crowley occupied - an apartment that was obviously lived in, with lights and sounds from the streets filtering in from the windows. There was a vibrant parade somewhere outside. Music rolled and echoed like thunder.

No one was home. They were probably enjoying the parade outside.

Crowley's senses clicked and he gave Lialeth's leg a little pat.

"You okay? Can you hear me?"

She could, in fact, hear him - perhaps only because she was connected to both halves of Red Haven at once.

"What's in there?"

He hopped up onto the middle of her back and looked through as well, his bright yellow eyes cutting through the darkness of the apartment as Lialeth was investigating. He didn't hear or smell anyone else nearby.

"Huh... weird," he stated bluntly, trying to piece it all together in his head.

"What do you make of it, Lialeth? This whole thing about the Black Goat... I never heard of it, do you think the girls went there without telling me? Something about meeting a Patron? I don't know what that is..."

He exhaled, intent on following Lialeth on whichever side of the mirror she decided to go to. There were probably more clues in the strange mirror world, but knowing that there was a surefire way out was helpful.

There was no guarantee that they could return to the mirror world if they decided to leave, however.

---

 

[Maxxob]

Decimus Valerius

Spoiler: Minions

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

Mephisto IanThe170 Revi

Lona’s explanation about the Cryptids got Decimus’ full attention, as the old soldier would rather not face an enemy he had no proper intel on. Even as her report began taking a turn appearing to be more of an old wive’s tale rather than a real, concrete fact, his expression was unwavering and unchanging. Despite having lived as long as he did, the Widersian Cadet was sure that there were many things he was ignorant of, things that he missed the opportunity to learn about, being deployed on the frontlines. Things that might just as dangerous as war itself. “The course of action is then to ignore them, pay them no mind and, in worst case scenario, outsmart them in their own game, mmm? We should keep a sharp mind in that case. Even more when dealing with that one abomination.” He said, keeping his steely visage and statuesque presence as best as he could.

“What?!” Daddymus couldn’t help, but blurt out when Beatrice cemented the notion that Detective Roger North had never existed. His eyebrows furrowed, his expression hardened, and his ashen eyes began narrowing. He fished around in his pocket for the coin which the supposed detective had handed him, during their first meeting, as a way to contact him. He would spend a few moments gazing at it, through his glasses, while his wisened lips pressed together. The idea of the elderly man, about as old as Decimus, being in fact Smiling Jack was certainly not something that would have ever crossed the soldier’s mind.

Little by little, recovering for the initial ‘shock’, per se, of the information he didn’t expect, the old veteran began returning to his neutral disposition. A thought crossed his mind: how much could the pair really believe of what that seemingly sweet and deliciously plump lady was telling them? Even more after what had happened back in the hotel with Crowley? Could they really trust this woman to not be a harbinger of chaos in disguise? That he could not answer, but he would be damned if he wouldn’t take every bit of information with a grain of salt. After all, Yunaesa, his short construct comrade-in-arms was the only one Decimus trusted implicitly. After all, they bled together.

And, upon receiving the name and location where the miscreant, who appeared to be the puppeteer behind all of that, would be at, the elderly soldier nodded to Beatrice. “The Widersian Crown really appreciate your aid in this business, which might be more of national interest than one might think.” It was as if he was back to business fully, being pulled away from the confusion. He was Decimus Valerius, the Widersian Cadet of the 2nd Infantry Division once more. And, on that note, his attention was fully directed to Lona. “We now have two options. Either head out and try to meet the Patron immediately or pay a visit to Killer Carl first.” He offered, letting the freckled-girl decide their fate. After all, she looked more properly acquainted with both the unknowns.

 

[Revi]

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

---

Lona listened intently to Beatrice's revelations. Her chest felt heavy as Beatrice confirmed her fears—not just about Smiling Jack but about the depths of pain and manipulation woven into the city's fabric. The way the Cryptids served the Patrons gnawed at her thoughts, framing the entire twisted hierarchy of this city in a more transparent, if not more unsettling, light.

More and more, I wonder why she sent me here... It definitely wasn't to see the sights and enjoy a holiday. I've gotten embroiled in a big mess, and there's no backing out now.

She silently read the name M-E-P-H-I-S-T-O, scrawled in bold letters, quickly folded the paper and tucked it into her pouch next to the bell.

Her breath hitched at Decimus' sudden outburst, the veteran's disbelief mirroring her unease. Roger North—what remained of him—was trapped in this web, bound by a deal that cost him everything. A shade. An echo. The realization deepened her heaviness like a chasm had opened within her—Roger North wasn't a man anymore, just a remnant clinging to the edges of existence. And yet, he'd tried to help. That much was clear to her.

He is still trying, she thought, her brows knitted together as she nodded faintly at Beatrice's plea.

When Decimus posed the choice, she turned her gaze to him, her brow still furrowed as she thought on it. The gravity of the decision made her pause. She couldn't ignore the link between Killer Carl and the missing girls, what little she knew catching up on this whole investigation a little late into it. Still, everything pointed to the same inevitable conclusion: the Patrons.

She drew in a breath, steadying herself before speaking. "We need to go straight to the source—the Patron. Smiling Jack isn't acting independently - That We Know. Roger North's fate was sealed by a deal after he lost his girls, and now more girls are missing. That's where all of this started, and I feel it's where the answers will be."

Her voice was calm but firm, conviction shining in her dark eyes. "Killer Carl may be dangerous, but he's still a Cryptid, working under the same system, again, as far as we know - he's not working independently. If we confront him first, we might just get run in circles. But if we go to the one pulling the strings, the one who makes the deals…" She hesitated momentarily, then squared her shoulders, "Then we have a chance to unravel this. To stop it at its core."

Her fingers brushed the bell again as if for reassurance, a small reminder of the strange and twisted allies they had already encountered. "And if this is all connected, then we're wasting time the longer we skirt around the edges, keeping those girls and Lialeth in danger. The Patrons are why this city is the way it is, aren't they?"

Her voice softened, but there was a quiet strength in it. "If we're already cursed, we may as well face the core of that curse head-on. We could, perhaps, play coy and see if this man is aware of how his minions are behaving, see if this is truly his doing or if they've run a little rampant - perhaps Killer Carl is hungry for more power, and this is how he's exerting his efforts. Beatrice did say that he was quite ambitious."

She glanced back at Beatrice, her heart aching slightly at the worry on the old woman's face. "We'll be careful," she said gently. "And we won't make any deals. But we can't fix this by dancing around the heart of the problem. If Smiling Jack is bound to his Patron, we must meet the one holding the leash."

Turning back to Decimus, she added, "It's your call. I trust your knowledge of this country and your experiences being grounded here far more than mine. But I do think the answers await us at the Black Goat."

---

Spoiler: Meta

Rolled dice to decide if we went for 1) the patron or 2) the cryptid. Dice determined Patron.

 

[IanThe170]

Lialeth Vianno
​

It had certainly been a weird experience putting her head in a mirror. In fact this was the first time for her interacting with portals and the like. Still, it seems, if what Lialeth thought was correct, this is an even bigger mess now. Whilst it is nice to know that there's potentially numerous exits here, it also meant the girls could be in either world, at any given time, technically.

Crowley's pat suddenly brought her back to reality. "Oh, uhm, it seems mirrors, at least some of them may work as portals back to the real world, at least this one seemingly does..." Lialeth wouldn't step through it fully, however. She simply "retrieved" her head and looked over the pamphlet on the floor.

Thinking over it, as much as she wished to simply jump through it and go back, it was too risky. There were still things to be done. Whilst they could probably return here, there was a chance that the only way to do so was by getting caught by Smiling Jack. Her legs hurt at just the thought of it. Besides, not like the mirror would simply disappear.

"Maybe it's some god they worship or made a deal with? Regardless, we should try and find that nightclub. If it is connected to all of this, chances are there should be something of interest there. And now that we can seemingly return, if we wish too, then we should do all we can to find out what we can on this side."

Lialeth would slowly proceed to check over the room once more, before starting to move towards the door and leaving the building. Still, Lialeth could not help, but feel as though she was making a mistake somewhere in this whole mess. The girls were trying to seek someone or something out in the city, whilst trying to hide it from Crowley... In other words, whatever happened to them, was almost certainly brought upon by themselves, most likely not entirely intentionally. And in such a case... This may be quite troublesome down the line.

 

[Mephisto]

​

---

Featuring:
| Revi | Maxxob |
As themselves

Countdown until the Night Parade: two days and two nights

Less than 60 hours remain
​

---

And so our intrepid gumshoes, separated by fate and disaster - hope kept alive through deduction and a new friendship - worked in unforeseen tandem with each other. The road to the Black Goat was clear, clearer than any other path laid before them. The crowds parted at every opportunity, giving Decimus and Lona clear indication to where they needed to go - where they needed to be. The haunting melody of a thousand musical acts dared not to contradict the other. The city breathed music and lived for food, as well as much worse things.

Though the smells and sounds did not fail to lure tourists and locals alike into their benevolent resting places for the night, as the darkness outside encroached further not even the million electric bulbs ringing and buzzing around them could distract them from the odd alleyway or shadowy street corner.

They were in a much different Red Haven now.

Though the common folk looked the other way, entranced by lights and songs, there was a definitive sense that Decimus and Lona were being watched by more than just an otherworldly thing such as Smiling Jack.

There were real criminals here, ones of flesh and blood so sinfully, oily black. These were cruel men and women who lived and died on the streets. They were waiting for an opportunity, not giving a single thought to the rank of the soldier or the experience of the cautious woman next to him. Neither of those mattered against sheer numbers and desperation.

They'd be robbed, killed, and dumped before the clocktower could reach the next hour.

But none of this misfortune befell them. For some reason, the blank, predatory stares they received could read their movements well. The knew that they were heading towards a... much worse fate.

The doors to the Black Goat were open. They allowed anyone in... especially this late at night. A bouncer welcomed Decimus and Lona inside with a smile. It almost seemed like he could do nothing but smile, his face wrinkled and contorted into an unnatural smirk. It felt like a mask, latex and fake. His smooth skin and hairless face only added to the strangeness of the brief encounter. He didn't even ask for any identification. He didn't even say a word.

It was almost like they were expected to be here... but Beatrice couldn't have ratted them out, right?

No. She'd never be caught dead here.

It was the complete opposite of her shop, a dark and oppressive atmosphere weighed down by the thick smell of cigar smoke and expensive booze. The music was loud, thrumming like a heartbeat and threatening to replace the ones in the chests of the two investigators. Where Mr. Limestone and the Ivory Keys were strange, but welcoming and extravagant, and Beatrice and her Sweet Tooth were bright and cheerful... this place latched onto their souls like a leech.

They were offered all manner of excess, but never directly. The temptations were always there, hanging in the backs of their minds, distracting them from their goal. They had to find more clues. They had to find the girls. They had to expose Killer Carl and his mysterious connection to... to...

The clocktower struck 11 PM.

The atmosphere of the bar shifted. The lights turned lower - as if that were even possible - and a certain tint cascaded across the walls and floor. It spread quickly, lunging at anyone and everyone. The tendrils of horror congealed and thickened on the stage. The shape coagulated like blood. Something stepped out of it, and the crowd roared in anticipation.

Their god had arrived, a god of savagery and debauchery.

His lips were peeled back in a permanent grin, not unlike Smiling Jack's. But with the shape that attacked them in the hotel, there was a certain measure of sorrow. Roger regretted his actions behind the animalistic veil of torture and torment.

This was his jailer, his master. He inherited this creature's will and acted on it like instinct. This thing before them, singing his songs and pulling the strings of the people around him...

He simply wasn't human. Or Fae. Not anymore, or if he ever was. He barely registered as a physical thing, contorting and moving in impossible ways at impossible angles. His body seemed more fluid than flesh, ink over blood. The pale skin keeping him intact in a recognizable humanoid shadow distended and crackled as he swept along the stage. His limbs popped and his neck ratcheted, cranking along bones and joints that should not have existed.

He laughed. He danced.

The crowd surged in unison. Decimus and Lona were in the midst of the ritualistic performance.

Like it or not, this was the next phase of their investigation.

​

---

Featuring:
| IanThe170 |
As herself

Countdown to the Night Parade: ???

Less than ??? remain

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
​

---

Crowley's ears perked up. As soon as they were on the same side of the mirror, eschewing the real world for this mirror dimension - he heard it. He froze in the bathroom.

"Listen," he told Lialeth.

The inflection in his voice was all he needed to let her know the gravity of their current situation. It changed almost as quickly as their encounter at the hotel. While he couldn't trust anyone back then, Lialeth's determination won him over. He wanted to help her just as much as he wanted to find his girls. That was why he stood there, staring out of the window across the hallway from the bathroom door. He jumped onto the frame and stared out into the distance, finding exactly what he wanted to find.

In the saturated, cold grey of the mirror world... a color finally emerged. It was radiant, though dulled by the distance between them and itself. Crowley's eyes narrowed. The fur on his back bristled.

He could hear it. Music roared from wherever the light shone out from. He felt himself let out a hiss of air. He looked at Lialeth.

"Alice and Lydia are there. You can feel it too, can't you?"

Beings caught within Smiling Jack's mirror world could often feel a strange miasma of energy. It was the overflow of Red Haven, dripping down into the cracks of reality and pooling into infinity. Music was the crux of it all. The thrumming heartbeat of this strange reality meant that they were on the other side of a metaphorical wall, listening to the chaos on the other side. While the windows scattered throughout the mirror world were the equivalent of a crawlspace... this was like part of the wall collapsing in the middle of the night.

The sudden horror of such an influx of magic, whereas all they could feel was a slight draft, was enough to attract anyone and anything in the mirror world to it like a beacon. Crowley even noticed the automatons moving towards it in the street down below. Their methodical, somber march was dictated by the presence of their master.

They could feel him on the other side.

"They're going towards it as well," he mentioned to Lialeth. "They know something's happening,"

He forced himself to transform into his jaguar shape, expending a great amount of energy in doing so. He urged Lialeth to climb onto his back so he could carry her, given the status of her wounded legs.

She would probably not make it far.

"Please trust me once more, Lialeth. This is probably our only chance!"

If she decided to take his offer, he would race out of the apartment and make a beeline towards the beacon. Despite all of the intrigue, however, he knew something was wrong. Much like the distinction he made to himself before, the sudden destruction of the metaphorical wall meant that it was intentional.

Someone - or something - was waiting for them.

---