Halloween Party

[Tbolt]

Well, it's that time of year again folks, so I thought I'd open the stores at refrigeratorhenge, break out another vat of marinade and get the grill fired up for another forum haloween party!

Please feel free to partake in the feast! We'll have a variety of music, a little storytelling. (This year I have a little backstory for Trajan prepared)

So, find an alternate avatar, and let's have a little fun! =^^=

[The Lurking Dragon]

But what's wrong with my current one? =) Halloween party eh? sounds like fun. Need anything grilled?

[Shyal_malkes]

as per the halloween party I've temporarily joined in a change of avatar. from back when I was dabbling in sprites.

I'm still using this little guy in my attempts at a singing flash animation (now if only I knew how to actually use that flash program)

lets see, I've got some chocolates here. some sweet corn thingies, whatever you call em. ooh, and some peeps that,... oh, ooops that was a leftover from Easter...

[Fusion]

Wheeeee! My second Halloween party on here!

Let's see. I brought some chocolate, gram crackers, marshmallows (now in green! http://freefall.purrsia.com/ff600/fv00567.htm), and a flamethrower!

Let the mayhem begin!

[UncleMonty]

I had some nice fresh meat for the grill, but it got away from me. I'm chasing it down as I type this...

[Dapple]

Alright ready for the party!

[StrangeWulf13]

I'd change my avatar, but I don't have many pics that are suitable for it. So I'll just keep the one I have and go as a coon. Bandit's my Sly Cooper knock off (or Gary Stu if ya like and yes, I'm a bit ashamed of it), so he'll do perfectly.

Just don't be surprised if a few snacks disappear off your plate without you knowing about it...

[Astral]

A cloud of purple smoke suddenly blillows out from the sumit of one of the refidguraters, a dark voice echoing from within the shroud:
"I am the terror that flaps in the night."
As rapidly as it first appeared, the smoke dissipates, revealing young fox clad in a rather dashing purple apparel, his long move cloak pulled up in front of his masked features in an over dramatized stereotyping of an anti hero.
"I am the Unseen force that steals your biro pens! I am DARKWING DUCK!"

--

Well, I got my costume all picked out ^_^

[Tbolt]

Ok, Welcome all! =^^=

Thank you, Lurking Dragon for the assist on grilling, That helps enormously, the grill is over there...

* Fash, Sizzle * >O.o<

Ooook, I guess the Wal-Mart model, isn't up to dragon breath standard, just a sec....

* Scampers off to Warehouse H-17 *

* Beep, Beep, Beep, returns driving a forklift holding a titanic grill *

All right, this is the same ceramic they use to divert the exhaust plume of the Space Shuttle on lift off! It is very heat resistant, and non-stick to boot! =^^=

Shyal, Fusion, thanks for bringing some treats!

* With a squee and a clickety-clackety (English translation: Free the brethren!) a toothy living soap dish grabs the bag of living marshmallows and skitters back into the darkness *

A-heh heh, I was wondering where those guys had gotten too! =^^;; Unclemonty, we may need your services to chase down a couple other things later on!

Dapple! it's a good thing I have a 2nd tub of marinade! Hee, hee! Just make sure someone doesn't try to bob for you in there!

Glad you could make it SW, please make yourself at home!

Astral! Hee, hee! How did you know that Darkwing Duck was one of my favorite cartoon characters? If you get that colored in, please tell me, I'd love to see it!

Now, without further ado, please allow me to present:


Trajan Beyond the Mistwall


Chapter One: A Bad Morning

Misty pale dawn broke on the outskirts of the Dire Swamp. Just inside, not deep enough to be completely isolated, but far enough to discourage casual visitors, sat a small, miserable hut. The shanty was not much to look at from the outside, merely four wooden walls and a slanted roof to shed rain away from the entrance.

Upon entering, one would find the interior equally unremarkable. The area opposite the entrance was filled by the bevy nest of its sole occupant. The pile of cushions and rags stirred as that resident came to life. A dirty grey muzzle poked its way out from under the sheets and snorted.

Trajan did not want to wake up this morning, not at all. He did not keep a calendar but this day forever haunted him as the day his beloved Lamilora died in his arms. He turned over in the nest a few times, but sleep refused to take him.

Generally speaking, Trajan was built big for a rac-conan. He “towered” a full three tall feet at the tips of his ears, putting him nearly a foot taller than his shorter brethren. Big boned wide and stocky fit Trajan’s description as well.

He crawled out of the nest this morning looking particularly disheveled and unwholesome. His matted facial fur looked like it hadn’t been groomed in days. Closer inspection revealed the ruin of his right eye, another souvenir of the day he lost Lamilora. His tail presented an even sorrier state, a few brambles still lurked inside the bushy fur that hadn’t been groomed out last night. Thus far Trajan avoided the mange, but if he continued to neglect himself, it would not be far off.

An unusual chill in the swamp air greeted Trajan this morning and the atmosphere seemed strangely subdued. But he was too wrapped up in his own funk to care. Mechanically, he donned his plain black eye patch, more out of habit than any sense of fashion or propriety.

Breakfast today consisted of pan fried mushrooms and crayfish. Occasionally, the scent of cooking food lifted Trajan’s spirits in the memory of better times, not so today. He ate his meal straight from the pan, not wishing to make any extra work for himself. Worse, he burned his paw on the hot utensil. He kept the presence of mind long enough to eat the meal, but once he finished, he angrily threw the pan away. The pan blasted through the side of his hut and sailed a good distance into the swamp. Trajan stared dumbfounded at the hole his temper made and heard the pan skip off the water three times before sinking into the murk. A moan emanated from the damaged structure and it fell outwards. The rest of the building paused for a moment, as if thinking what it should do next. A puff of breeze completed the decision and the remainder collapsed on Trajan’s head. Finally, a light rain added the final straw.

Years later, the legend of a mysterious monster and its long mournful cry would be told to kits as a warning against venturing alone too deeply into the swamp.
Trajan’s mood was black as his eye patch. He sorted through the wreckage of his hut for his hunting gear. The morning rain lasted just long enough to make everything wet. It stopped by the time Trajan found his hat. His headfur and face were well matted by then, and his shirt and upper torso were damp as well.

Years later, Trajan sometimes wondered just what he had hoped to accomplish by going out that morning. Regardless, he packed his gear on his back and struck out for the deep swamp.

[SolidusRaccoon]

Sounds like fun, just need to get an appropriate costume

[Doink]

Hmm. Well, since I brought the twins last time, I guess it's time for another character of mine to appear. Introducing, Lacre Almasy!

*points to an empty spotlight*

......Well. Um... Lacre Almasy!

*points again, the spotlight is still empty*

Okay, where is he? Lacre!

*offscreen* What?

You missed your cue! Twice!

Sorry, Brad. I guess I picked too elaborate a costume, eh?

I guess you did. *taps fingers*

*appears in the spotlight, dressed as a certain pirate*

Who are you supposed to be?

*Johnny Depp impresion* I'm Captain Jack Sparrow.

...Wow. That was dead on.

*nods and smiles* Savvy.

[Tbolt]

Welcome, welcome, please make yourselves comfortable! =^^=

We have meat for the grill, little stuffed thingies, tossed salad, please feel free to enjoy!

Hmmm, things seem a little quiet around here...

Ah Solidus just arrived, well that blows everything to... Oh, heh Hi there, Solidus, glad to see you! =^^;;

Oops, I forgot to turn on the music, please forgive me, here's the Chapter 1 theme:

Switchfoot: This is Your Life

From the Album The Beautiful Letdown

Yesterday is a wrinkle on your forehead,
yesterday is a promise that you've broken.
Don't close your eyes, don't close your eyes!
This is your life and today is all you've got now,
yeah, and today is all you'll ever have!
Don't close your eyes,
Don't close your eyes!

This is your life, are you who you want to be?
This is your life, are you who you want to be?
This is your life, is it everything you dreamed that it would be
when the world was younger and you had everything to lose?

Yesterday is a kid in the corner.
Yesterday is dead and over.

This is your life, are you who you want to be?
This is your life, are you who you want to be?
This is your life, is it everything you dreamed that it would be
when the world was younger and you had everything to lose?

Don't close your eyes,
don't close your eyes.
Don't close your eyes,
don't close your eyes!

This is your life are you who you want to be?
This is your life are you who you want to be?

This is your life, are you who you want to be?
This is your life, are you who you want to be?
This is your life, is it everything you dreamed it would be
when the world was younger and you had everything to lose,

and you had everything to lose!




Alright, as I bonus I'll throw in Chapter 2 a bit early.


Hmmm, what about todays theme? =-.-=

I got it! =^^=


Weird Al: Weasel Stomping day

From the Album Straight Outta Lynwood

Faces filled with joy and cheer
Gathrer around and drink some beer
Howdy Ho! It's Weasel Stomping Day

Put your Viking helmet on
Spread that mayonnaise on the lawn
Don't you know it's Weasel Stomping Day

All the little girls and boys
Love that wonderful crunching noise
You'll know what this day's about
When you stomp a weasel's guts right out

So, come along and have a laugh
Snap their weasely spines in half
Grab your boots and stomp your cares away
Hip hip hooray, it's Weasel Stomping Day

(Sounds of weasels getting stomped on, with bone-crunching and rodent-screeching effects)

People love them down the street
Crushing weasels beneath their feet
Why we do it, who can say?
But it's such a festive holiday

So let the stomping fun begin
Bash their weasely skulls right in
It's tradition, that makes it okay

Hey everyone, it's Weasel Stomping
We'll have some fun on Weasel Stomping
Put down your gun, it's Weasel Stomping Day
Hip Hip Hooray, it's Weasel Stomping Day

Weasel Stomping Day
Hey!



Chapter Two: Lost

The morning rain caused eerie mists to rise throughout the swamp. Strange shapes rose and curled ghostlike all around Trajan. His progress was slow and difficult in the deceptive, surrealistic landscape and the treacherous terrain threatened to pull him under. Only careful kenning of the ground before him kept him from falling prey to quicksand, deep mud and other hazards. Still, he needed to double back a few times because of false trails. Worse, as the day progressed, the sky refused to lighten.

The morning mists did not burn off in the light of the morning sun, but instead an increasing wind drove them away. The sky assumed the hue of lead. Again Trajan would later wonder what possessed him to press on, but he stoically marched deeper into the swamp as the storm brewed.

“What are the weather mages trying to prove now?” he thought as gusts began to make the trees sway around him. He pressed on a bit further, but he finally realized his futility and stopped. “This is ridiculous, I can’t hear a thing, the water’s all ripples, something could sneak up right... behind... me...” The fur on the back of his neck prickled.

Slowly, he turned and watched the water part. A large ugly serpentine head rose on a dark, leathery, grey neck some ten feet in the air, towering over the small rac.

Several thoughts played through Trajan’s mind as he watched the creature prepare to strike. “All I have to do is stand here, and it is all over in one bite... Does it hurt to be eaten alive?... Nobody will ever know what happened to me... I won’t have to live without Lamilora anymore.”

The creature drew its breath, hissing. Its mouth opened to reveal sharp, jagged fangs, dripping strings of thick, white saliva in anticipation of its meal. “The pit” was the last thing Trajan thought before instinct took over. He reached into his pocket and produced a flash bomb, a small stick coated in phosphorous. A quick lux spark ignited it while he tossed it towards the creature’s face. The monster screamed in surprise and the surrounding area was lit with a blue - white flash as the device detonated. The thing snapped at the light burning before its eyes and dazzling it.

Trajan wasted no time in sprinting off as fast as his legs could carry him. His heavy, boomslang slowed him down. Just as he thought about dropping it off his back, it caught on a limb and threw him backwards. Trajan almost cursed it mightily when the monster struck. Still blind, the monster followed the big rac by sound. It overestimated Trajan’s location and crashed into a tree a scant few paces in front of Trajan.

Trajan’s eye went wide in fear, he could look up and see the creature’s neck arching above him. He immediately darted off in a new direction, away from his hunter. The monster continued its chase, fury adding fire to its desire for fresh blood. Roars of rage filled Trajan’s ears as the pursuit continued. The creature refused to give up. Trajan could almost feel the monster’s breath hot on the back of his neck. He could not outrun it in this terrain, it was only a metter of time before the chase ended in his doom. Another near miss pushed Trajan to his last resort, he activated his journey boots. He rocketed through the swamp at breakneck speed. Water erupted in a great rooster tail behind him and it was all he could do to avoid hitting trees. Spray and brush assailed his face, his hat flew off never to be seen again. He had no clue where he traveled. All that mattered was the sound of the angry hunt was left behind him.

Suddenly, the mistwall, thick and opaque rose out of the swamp in front of him. Trajan didn’t even bother to slow down. Panic had siezed him and he fled blindly through the illusory barrier.

[SolidusRaccoon]

Weasel Stomping day?

Why limit yourself to one day?

[Tbolt]

She walked up to me and said, "Dude, you got weasels on your face..."

That was when I knew it was true love!

[UncleMonty]

Zucchini doesn't HAVE to be green, does it?

[Wayfarer]

With a quiet plop, a small, brown cardboard cube bounces in. Another one follows it, followed by another four, all bouncing around with continuous plop, plop, plops. Then Wayfarer's voice can be heard from outside. "Oh, no. Meline, some of the boxen are going inside. Could you go in and keep an eye on them? OH - and keep Solidus AWAY from them."

"Hehehehe. Sure thing," Meline laughs. In a moment the little sprite flits in and over to the group of bouncy boxen. "So, Laral, Larel, what did we miss?" she appears to ask no one in particular.

And from what seems to be nowhere in particular, she receives an answer.
"Well, you two are really sorta coming in at the wrong time. They're killing weasels right now."

"What?!" Meline looks around and sees the weasel-massacre on the other side of the yard. "Eeeeew!!! Guys! " She looks quickly away. "So, did we escape- I mean miss anything else?"

"You missed out on Tbolt's storytelling."

"Awwwww!"

"That's okay, though. I'll fill you in."

With that, Meline flutters down to land on one of the boxen and sits down, apparently listening to something as it continues bouncing.

After a few more minutes, Wayfarer enters, carrying a couple of bags and surrounded by about twenty more of the strange little bouncing cubes. As she does so, she says, "Thanks, for filling me in on the stories, Laral. And I'll be sure not to to look across the yard."

"No problem," comes the answer from nowhere.

Then Wayfarer raises her voice a little and says, "Hey, everyone! Sorry we're so late. I brought some chips, though." She holds up the bags.

[JakeWasHere]

Well, if Solidus posted that, I have to post this.

[Tbolt]

Welcome, Wayfarer, glad to see you made it here!

I see you've brought quite the entourage this time.... =^^;;

* Several Boxen have apparently paired up wit a group of living green marshmallows and are now starting a square dance... *

* Looks outside at the carnage on the lawn *

>O.o< Oh dear, what have I started!

Well, as a little country hoe-down music plays in the background, may I present:

Chapter 3: Outside


Trajan ran. How long, he couldn’t remember, but the swamp gave way to trees and the trees gave way to a great plain, and still Trajan ran. Finally, the journey boots gave out, completely drained of lux. But Trajan continued to run until he collapsed from fatigue. He fell to all fours, panting. His hat was gone, so he pulled the hood of his cloak over his head. This was important, but he didn’t know why, fatigue addled his thoughts.

Thunder rumbled in the distance and the air was remarkably cooler than Trajan thought it should be. The promise of a storm rode on increasing gusts of wind, he needed to find shelter and protection soon. Thinking proved difficult due to the burning in his chest and the blood pounding in his ears. Something definitely felt wrong, but he just couldn’t put his paw on it. Looking forward, Trajan could see a low rise covered in tall grass to his front. He staggered to the top and looked around. A small cluster of trees looked like the best option for shelter from the brewing tempest. He decided to make for its safety, but the wood proved father away than he expected and fatigue slowed his progress. The storm broke when he had only traversed half the distance.

Amazingly, Trajan found a large hollow log laying in the middle of the open field. The inside proved reasonably dry and Trajan had enough room to crawl in and lay down. The roots that once nourished the great tree still plugged one end of the log the other opened just enough for Trajan to stuff himself inside.

He looked outside one last time before he sealed the opening with his pack. What he saw greatly disturbed him. The sky was a strange shade of green. The wind blew from his back inside the tree, but a ragged layer of low flying clouds moved in the opposite direction. Visible through the lower layer, an upper layer of clouds moved perpendicularly to either the wind or the lower clouds. The sight greatly disturbed him and he was glad to shut it out.

All around him the grass shivered and rustled in increasingly heavy winds. Lunch consisted of a few nuts and berries he had stashed in his pack. The rage of the storm made it impossible for Trajan to exit his shelter in search of more food. The temper of the wind rose to a fever pitch until it became a deafening roar. Suddenly the tempest lifted the log in a howling frenzy. The terrified rac held on for dear life as his haven became a demented kit’s thrill ride. Trajan blacked out before the end.

Hours later, Trajan woke in pitch blackness. He had no idea where he was and for a moment fear gripped him. The scent of wood brought him back to reality. His pack still remained firmly wedged into the entrance to the log. Cautiously he unwedged his pack and pushed it outside. He peered out into the transformed landscape that lay before him. The twin moons were out in force on a crystal clear night. A forest spread out before him bathed in their silvery glow. Trajan emerged from his shelter and stretched his cramped limbs. The moonlit landscape was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Realization hit him as the cool night air began to seep through his moist cloths. “Where on Aerith am I?”

A dull ache pervaded Trajan’s head while he searched for any trace of a trail back to the place where he belonged. The tree had lain initially in an empty plain, but it landed in the middle of a forest. Broken limbs in the forest’s canopy attested to its aerial arrival. The more Trajan tried to concentrate, to judge where he came from, the fuzzier he got. It was like a mistwall had been erected within his mind, preventing him from returning home.

But, what was home? He thought. A miserable life in the swamp? A dull existence, waiting for the day some monstrosity finally got the drop on him? Could he ever return to rac-conan society again and show himself? The morose chain of thoughts left him feeling more depressed and set his head swimming. He rubbed his temples in frustration, but the mental fog remained.

Carefully, Trajan began to search around for both healing herbs as well as food. He was no longer in the swamp, but outside the mistwall now and he had no clue as to what dangers awaited him here. Fortunately, his excellent training in the guards coupled with the rac-conan’s superior night vision and kenning ability enabled him to move about the darkened forest as though it were broad daylight.

In short order he found the things he was looking for as well as a stream with clear fresh water to wash with and drink. Some of the leaves he found he chewed acted as painkillers while others worked to calm his mind.

The next few days Trajan spent exploring the unfamiliar terrain using the log as his base of operations. Not knowing who or what might be nearby he refrained from lighting a fire. The nights out here were very cold and Trajan spent many long hours shivering in the dark, his fur fluffed out to trap body heat. He genuinely longed for the warmth of his small hut in the swamp.

Trajan rose very early, usually a few hours before dawn to scavenge food for breakfast. This day, Trajan explored the stream in search of crawfish. He crawled over the rocks testing the small pools of water for the tasty creatures. His tail twitched in excitement, his ears discerned a hollow echo in the darkness before him, a few steps forward confirmed his hope. A medium sized cave opened into the stream bank. This would be a far better shelter than the hollow log, especially so close to fresh water. He decided to enter the cave and see what it was like. His nostrils twitched in the darkness and Trajan did not like what they said. Death lurked somewhere within the rocky haven and he could smell its aftermath.

A low growl confirmed Trajan’s suspicions, a bear called this place home. This was a very bad place for a potential breakfast treat like Trajan to be. The bear still apparently slept and Trajan had no desire to confront it within its den. Carefully, he backed his way out of the cave. He winced as his paw disturbed a pile of debris causing a light metallic noise. He looked down and saw the remains of a human hand. The fourth finger still bore a golden ring. Trajan normally frowned on ghoulish practices, but the previous owner would not need this any more, and it was already loose on the bony finger. A moment’s work and Trajan owned the ring.

Quickly, Trajan finished his exit from the cave, but where could he go now? He did not wish to lead the bear back to where he was encamped. As if in answer to his question, a yellow light appeared through the trees. Curiosity overcame the rac-conan and he decided to investigate, bringing his boomslang along, just in case.

The light was deceptively far away and it seemed to take forever for Trajan to reach it. Finally, he discovered the source. About one hundred yards from the edge of the forest stood a warm looking cottage. To most observers, this might have been a welcome sight, but not to a rac-conan like Trajan, for this was a human dwelling.

[BlasTech]

Blistering Barnacles!!! ... sorry im late, Its assignment crunch time at the moment. Well that, and i couldnt figure out what to wear

And sorry i've missed so much of your story Tbolt! i shouldve gotten my tail in gear much sooner.

*indicates the carry-sack on his back*

I brought enough sweets to feed an army ... or maybe one or two of us, i hope this makes up for my tardiness a little!!

[BrockthePaine]

Blistering Barnacles!!! ... sorry im late, Its assignment crunch time at the moment. Well that, and i couldnt figure out what to wear.

Ten Thousand Thundering Typhoons!

*Brings in a plastic bag filled with corn, for, you know, eating and stuff.*