(no subject)

[enigmaestro.livejournal.com]

Who: Everyone at the State Island Renn Faire.
When: From noon 4/29 to 11:59pm 5/2
Where: Staten Island.
Summary: Reality is temporarily broken as demonic forces accidentally make a Renn Faire very real.
Warnings: None?
Format: Whatever thou doth deign upon.



PROLOGUE:

As summertime sun veered twelve on dial,
A light shone bright over fields grown mild.
Beyond mortal realms held such dark guile
That, sparked by demons, wrought truth defiled.
Upon a land danced revelers in mask
Blithely blind to this dark mischief brewing.
From hence now in history would they bask,
Shy of lives they knew, they’d keep eschewing,
Believed to be the cloth over the man.
Along the land enchanted, they frolic,
Embroiled in medieval life began,
Drunk on magic like an alcoholic,
Lost in the fantasy of their own minds.
Their creations forged real by mystic binds.

Comments

NORTH

[enigmaestro.livejournal.com]

[The Northern Trident edge holds a great majesty, from the Royal Palace to the very fine winery. Enjoy yourself at the sprawl of taverns, but keep your tongue in check; the gallows and the stocks lurk just midway between the King’s luxury and the dirt of bawdy fun.]

locked; to selina

[enigmaestro.livejournal.com]

He had made the arrangement with Selina: meet at the White Hart tavern by half past eleven, be armed with a tankard of grog. He had, predictably, come a quarter of an hour earlier, keen to scope the lay of the land. He had already lost Eridan, and he felt little to no guilt over the presumed lonely stroll the kid would have to endure. Maybe that would teach the boy to avoid foolhardy spats with psychotic clowns. Maybe.

Although truthfully, the detective knew better.

Eddie leaned back in his wooden and leathered chair, surreptitiously peering around the crowding room. His pale green tunic shown brightly against the humdrum of peasants and nobles alike -- he had managed to retain the essence of flamboyance even amidst a rather eccentric crowd. It was a personal victory. His lavender gloves crawled to his forearms as he tattered his fingertips against the smoothed wood of his table, an electrical current of drives sizzled under his hands.

He hadn't yet decided where he stood with Selina. While it was engaging to hold company in his mockery of Norman, that shadow lingered perpetually in the back of his mind. It was a personal puzzle, a yanking of feelings, that he was unwilling to solve just yet.

open;

[niceassassin.livejournal.com]

It's true, there's a great deal of entertainment to be found in this fair. But probably not the way the inhabitants of this world intended it--at least for Zevran.

He comes in costume, because he heard you were supposed to, and why not--it gives him a chance to put back on the armor he'd been wearing when the 'Porter dropped him into the City in the first place. Oh, and his sword and dagger, because that's also acceptable here, apparently. Why the people of this society frown upon carrying weapons during everyday business but welcome them at festivals, he doesn't know. It's amusing enough to get compliments on his armor's authenticity and similar compliments on his acting when he explains where it came from and how he got it (although he discreetly slips away when a couple of the Faire's actors, playing royal guards, get into an argument over whether or not the surprisingly convincing elf ears are appropriate or should be saved for a fantasy convention).

By eleven he's been all over the fair and circled back around to the taverns. It's time to see if any of the guests or workers are a little more responsive to his impressive authenticity. In other words, here's hoping there are some well-hidden and comfortable back alleys.

Zevran is deep in conversation with one of the so-called tavern wenches when something changes, and suddenly she's not acting anymore. It's the strangest thing. He's about to steer the conversation away from his original subject (three guesses as to what that was and the first two don't count) in order to try to figure out what's going on when the actors who got into an argument over the appropriateness of elf costumes earlier approach.

"By order of the Royal Guard, elf, you are under arrest for threatening the virtue of human noblewomen."

"Ah." He'll go with the flow. "I assure you, I checked first. They had exhausted their virtue long before I ever got to them or their husbands--"

"Quiet, unless you wish to add to the charges against you!"

Oh. They're serious. The plot grows ever more tangled. As do those chains they have. Now is probably not a good time to make a dirty joke about that, either.

Open.

[due-punishment.livejournal.com]

There were very few circumstances under which Frank Castle would be caught dead, let alone alive, in a place like this. However one of those very circumstances had presented itself and it was too rare of an opportunity for him to pass up. Norman Osborne would be here, playing the king. He'd be in the open and lightly guarded if at all. Vulnerable in a way he'd never be again for who knew how long.

That was why Frank had grown his beard out and gotten himself into costume. He'd obtained a set of chainmail and a black tabard with the coat of arms of whatever kingdom this was supposed to be on the front of it. He looked ridicolous, but at least in costume no one would look twice at him for having a sword and since he looked like one of the guards it meant he could get close to Osborn and drive that sword through his spine. It was a pleasant thought.

Of course the moment the demons interference took hold he forgot all about that. No, instead he was Francesco Da Castiglione, Captain of the Guard and loyal protector of his royal highness King Norman. His only mission now was to ensure that no harm came to his sovereign and the best way to do that would be to mingle amongst the people attending the festival, to see for himself if any where acting suspiciously. It certainly wasn't a job he was willing to let the other guards handle. No, better they protect the King with their bodies instead of their weak minds.

So with a quick check of his weapons that was exactly what Francesco set out to do.

open!

[nottheanswers]

The crier wandered near the entrance to the Royal Palace, ringing his bell loudly and crying out:

"Hear ye, hear ye! King to raise taxes again! Living in great luxury as your children continue to starve!"

open; after the fair becomes real

[osreborn]

It had been a relatively pleasant day from the start; clear skies and bright hues to whatever the sun cast upon. Norman -- King Norman -- was enjoying the fine weather, seated outside on a throne sleek with gold and velvet. There were frown-lines still etched in his forehead, indicating he had not started the day in fair spirits, but with wine in hand he surveyed his kingdom with a calm but cautious eye.

With so many out there was always trouble stirring. Being outdoors allowed him to be more vigilant of renegades and potential treachery. Yes, he had his guards, but Norman himself was not one to leave his fate in the hands of others. He hadn't become king by letting the title fall into his lap, after all.

SO OPEN

[fingerbang]

[Lust is at least a day late for this whole thing, having only arrived to investigate after the reports of strange happenings on Staten Island, and she's completely uncostumed and unimpressed. Basically, she's pacing the streets, looking rather annoyed, and scanning the passsers-by while trying to determine which NPCs to actually start interrogating, and/or whether or not to get tha fuck out of this abomination while she still can. Ever so often someone seems to think she's a harlot of some kind! She is doing her best not to murder these people.]

OPEN

[amoray]

The beginning of Eridan's first Renaissance Faire had been predictably shitty. His rat and pigeon wounds stung, his costume (a dashing pirate with a silly hat, a fake cutlass, magenta sashes and pirate regalia and pinstripe pantaloons shut up Eddie) didn't fit with everyone else and kind of looked stupid in general, and not too long into proceedings, Eddie ditched him. Until the bells signaling noon rang, Eridan had been on a lonely walk by the supposedly more roguish parts of town, staring balefully at the fake sea serpent in the distance and seething over the various wrongs done to him as of late. His recent humiliating loss against Gamzee due to his own pomp, the last big argument with Eddie, and most of all the lack of effect his seventy-two hour long disappearance had had on anyone. He had sat down by the lake's edge to stare into the water and settle in for the inevitable dramatic downswing of hate when the bells had tolled.

Hours later the inimitable Orphaner Dualscar had swept into a tavern - any one that looked reasonably nice, he wasn't picky at the moment - with two of his men at his flank, chasing a couple patrons out of the corner seat and throwing himself into it irritably. His earlier encounter with the strange bard and his ill-mannered song had put him into the worst of moods; the mocking and taunting reminding him of something else he couldn't quite remember at the moment, and didn't care to. Every now and again these feelings of deja vu would crop up, and dwelling on them would usually turn up nothing but a headache. That and the bard himself was in all manners distasteful. In fact, if Dualscar were a man to believe in fate (which he was, as in all magical affairs; such was his birthright), he might even say that he had hated this particular bard before. Possibly in a past life. Perhaps they were fated to continue this nebulous rivalry in this life as well.

That idea and a good helping of red wine - Dualscar had very particular and usually expensive tastes, and though he would settle if there was no other choice, this was not one of those times - had worked him back into a good mood before long, a chess board at some point set up at his table and in use. He gambled over games with his company and with brave passersby cajoled into it by the good cheer at the table, but the pirate captain and his men were anything but well-intentioned; though he had little need of it, Dualscar enjoyed coaxing people into losing all their coin at his table. It was fun, and if he was in any sort of luck at all, he could starve out a family or two.

"Is there really no man left to challenge Orphaner Dualscar at a simple game of chess?" He announced loudly, taking another swig of wine straight from the bottle. There had been a proper glass involved at some more sober point, but now he had no clue where said glass had gotten to. "My, we must dock at this particular town more often. Such cowardice is nothing if not amusing."

WEST

[enigmaestro.livejournal.com]

[The westward corner is artisan’s lane – crafts of all kinds are found here. Poets and musicians flock to the Lyric Stage, and the evenings here are often flushed with romance and young flirtation. But not all is innocent and mild; just a few lengths away is the Darkwood Forest, a place rumored to hold beasts of mythical nature.]

(locked and i doubt i have to tell you to who.)

[livesarock]

At the moment, was a lot easier to believe the gigantic number of people living in the City - it felt like they were all in the same damn place. Congested as the streets were at time, one could at least navigate without nearly tripping over a stroller or being held up by teenagers wearing viking helmets and joking about drinking horns. This was just...Well. The social butterfly that Zelgadis wasn't was making great strides in the deterioration of his teeth by grinding them in agitation.

Do people not know how to walk anymore?!

The pain of pace was enough, but the spectacle that the whole affair was brought out a new kind of bold reaction from people that he could've gone well without, good spirits or not. He'd have nothing against girls giggling or children gawking at him had it not been solely because of his hideous face, and such things weren't alien to him on a normal day, but with so many damn people covering every inch of the fairgrounds...!

Fortunately (or just sadly, whatishislife), it was all starting to blend together into the general mess of sights and sounds he had to endure to get anywhere. He had a different focus for the hour: the color-coded fair map was a pain in the ass. Since when was a smithy an artisan? Why didn't they just put them by the joust? Why did it take getting turned around three times to wind up right back where they started?

And by they, of course, he meant the girl he'd become the makeshift people-plow for. Chalk up one more backhanded blessing for being a chimera: even in a congested-to-hell place, people make more of an effort to move when you're blue, scowling, and carrying period-appropriate arms.

( open ) after the rennfest becomes TRES REAL

[disillusionists.livejournal.com]

[ one would normally pass her over. in fact, she barely draws any attention except for those who were truly curious it seems, with the way she's wrapped in swaths of fabric, and there's a small sign resting beside her written in fine, purple lettering, offering services of fortune telling. she sits amongst the booths of crafts and smiths, oddly close to the Darkwood Forest from her position. how adorable.

however, what's really distracting is the strange feeling one would get from her, as if something isn't quite right. disturbing and horrific, even. but she'd just smile and a glimpse of purple eyes could be caught under that hood.

won't you come get your fortune read? ]

open IN THE FOREST WITH ALL THOSE OTHER FROOFER ELVES

[pandablade.livejournal.com]

In the forest there be elves. There is also a mystical sorcerer elf, whose power is known to be quite terrifying. The blind sorcerer, they call him, yet he does not seem as blind as one may believe, when he was able to perceive quite a bit when one approached him for magic.

Yet how many really did, when the Elf was often only found in the Darkwood Forest itself?

Open and in the afternoon; all formats accepted here

[caprihorn]

Gamzee was, as always, whistling and playing his lute. His hands plucked gently at the instrument's strings, unlike his lyrics which picked and pulled at just about anyone he knew. Thankfully, his language was hard to decipher so should anyone only bother spending a little of their time they'd probably miss his insults all the same. Though, really, hearing a word like motherintercourser was probably sure to keep a few people around long enough to try and understand him.

Of course, Gamzee's strange music and words weren't the only things that could draw a person to him. His strange makeup and his being a troll could draw people in by sight alone. And without sight the strange rumors that came from Gamzee hiding his parentage could certainly tug on someone's ears.

Really though, him being an annoying bard was probably all anyone ever wanted or needed to know about him.

open;

[acahellyeah]

Andy was not usually easy to miss. His clothing was colorful, a dark blue with a lavender vest and red leathery trousers -- merry as a minstrel should be. He cheerfully strummed a mandolin, bouncing around from place to place to serenade passersby and making conversation between verses. He loved Ren Faires, but there'd never been good ones in Scranton. This was so far up his alley it might as well have mugged him.

"Hey! Hello!" Maybe Olde English wasn't his forte; he just strummed more, wandering the fair and greeting people with a friendly wave. "Good day! Wouldst thou like some music?"

open, in the afternoon, tags can be during or after the performance

[lyingbrat.livejournal.com]

The conjuring show had gone well, she thought. Lyra had restrained herself, sticking to tricks and illusions that could be plausibly explained as mere slight of hand. But she'd snuck a few touches in that stretched that impression. Oh well, she could always say the lights and sounds were fireworks. She bowed a few times, and collected the coins thrown onto the stage before slipping her cloack back on and leaving.

Later, one might find her a few yards from the forest, counting her coins with a marten curled up on her lap.

open to all! BECAUSE WE CLEARLY NEEDED MORE MAGICIANS

[telekibeesis.livejournal.com]

[Sollux Captor is where people go when they need something arcane and doom-flavored done. At times a prophet, sure, but mostly? Magic and doom. He even wears a ridiculous robe and sits around just on the edge of the Darkwood Forest. Probably because that, also, smells of doom. It's good for setting the mood, especially when he is POSSESSED BY SPIRITS and dribbles about how badly people are going to die through a massive migraine. Thankfully, for the moment, his powers of foresight seem to have abandoned him.

Well, he still has his spells. One might even say he is apeshit bananas at spells, or that he knows ALL the spells, if they were so memetically inclined. He may not trust his own magicks, but his friends at least know that if they ever need something blown up or fantasy lasered or alchemically abused, Sollux is their man.]

SOUTH

[enigmaestro.livejournal.com]

[The Southern tip holds excitement, from the jousting tournaments upon the King’s Field, to gamblings on Fortune’s Stage. Take heed, for this section of the land is where the rogues and thieves congregate, and it is rumored that under Fortune’s Stage lies a cavern meant for only outlaw eyes.]

[onblackwings]

[ Finally, a part of this strange new plane that isn't absolutely bewildering and insane. Pleased as she is to find such a corner of the world, Khisanth wastes no time in shedding that stupid human shape and taking up a lounge around the spire of St. George's Chapel. mmmm comfy. So she's just hangin' out up here, wings idly fanning to keep cool, tip of her long tail contentedly twitching, and mostly ignoring the various looks that humans toss up at her. She'd already eaten earlier, after all.

...But despite that, those ponies at the pony ride not too far off look really really tasty. ]

OPEN;

[arachnopho8ia.livejournal.com]

At ten o'clock in the morning a teenage girl arrived, all dressed up in swashbuckling pirate gear and clutching a fake sword. The fake sword was pretty stupid, actually. These humans just wouldn't take her dicekind specibus seriously. That was their loss. But, as it turned out, coming in the first place was her loss. She'd heard there would be to be had, but this was just the usual cheap shit! Those humans had tricked her. But maybe she'd stay just a little longer and see if they were hiding something...

That was at ten o'clock. By midafternoon, things are looking very different. Out on the lake, a great pirate ship sails into view, its black flag bearing a blue Scorpio symbol instead of the usual skull and crossbones. It circles around the sea serpent cautiously, then takes to the waters at the far end of the lake.

At its prow stands a woman bedecked in the greatest of pirate fashion, wielding a glittering cutlass encrusted with suspiciously dice-like jewels at the hilt. She thrusts it into the air. "To arms, men! Let the heroes of the land taste Mindfang's steel! They think they prove their mettle by slaying the serpent, but I am a greater challenge yet. Let us conquer their lands and bring back riches and slaves for my pleasure!"

[ribbotic.livejournal.com]

And on the shore, a young woman is glaring quite intensely at the distant blue figure. This is everything Aradia Megido can't stand; the treasuremongering, the greed, the cruelty and sheer mindless selfishness that completely bypasses the real joy of adventuring in the first place. Her right hand goes to her whip, which lies holstered, after a fashion, via the sash at her waist. It's kind of useless considering her psychic powers, but it's also fun! And Aradia totally understands the importance of fun, if only for the next three days.

Perhaps there's something else behind her indignation, something that has nothing at all to do with the current situation, but whatever that might be is far too elusive and slippery for her to consider. Instead, she rises from the ground, paying no heed to any exclamations of shock from the more mundane townspeople, and proceeds to fly over the lake in the ship's general direction. This is an amazing plan, okay.

Open: Come slay the minotaur! Or...well...try.

[notyourutopian]

Eleanor had not come to the faire in costume...in fact, she hadn't even known people did that until she arrived, and she was a little sad about it because the costumes just seemed so...neat. Interesting, rather. Or fascinating. Or also just a bit hot but she didn't mind heat.

So she'd bought one. A lovely green dress that mostly fit and was big and swishy and showed off a bit more of her chest than she was entirely comfortable with but that seemed to be the style...and since everyone else was having fun, well...she wasn't going to worry about it. At least..until everything started to go rather odd.

She hadn't realized it for a few minutes, that the fake-english accents had suddenly become real english accents, or that she herself was using one and couldn't stop. She was at least grateful that she was still herself, judging by how some people appeared to have been completely taken over by their characters.

She didn't want to leave until she figured out what was happening though, so she was taking a long walk around the edge of the faire, watching the people, when her feet carried her past the forest and something rather large moving through the trees caught her attention. She couldn't see it in the shadows, she could just see the motion of it against the trees, but whatever it was, it was large, larger than any person she'd met by feet, moving along through the forest around the edge of the park much as she was.

So, of course, she followed it.

[batghoul.livejournal.com]

Cass hadn't bothered with a costume. She wore one every night, and she knew a little bit about costumes, and these were just ridiculous. The women were all in uncomfortable-looking dresses, and some of the men had enough armor on that it looked almost impossible to move. So she wandered around the event, wondering what language most of the people were speaking before noticing Eleanor at the edge of the woods. Even without the bulky diving suit, she could recognize her as the girl she teamed up with during the Joker incident.

She was walking over to say hi when she caught sight of the same thing Eleanor did--something big, and not human, darting through the trees. And as Eleanor followed it into the woods, Cass sped up to catch her.

Open!

[incywincyhero]

Peter was making a circuit of the entire Faire grounds, trying to find anyone else who hasn't been swept up in the transformation -- anyone in modern clothing, since that was the most obvious difference between himself and all the people around him; anyone looking as confused and frustrated as he felt, or ill at ease. Heck, at this point he'd take anyone who didn't give his un-period attire a bewildered second glance as they walked by.

It was an uncomfortably familiar experience. This wasn't the first time Peter had been the one holdout in a localized time warp to the Middle Ages (and what did that say about his life, exactly?). Though he was fairly certain Kulan Gath wasn't behind this -- small consolation as that was, because at least if Kulan Gath were responsible he'd have a game plan (lay low until the X-Men show up).

"I really should get some kind of membership card," he huffed, then waved awkwardly at the nearby "peasant" who looked at him in blank confusion.

[nottheanswers]

The crier spotted the stranger as he passed by and immediately stopped ringing his bell. Tying it to his belt, he ran to catch up with the stranger, pacing himself beside him.

"Hail and well met, sir! I'm afraid I've never heard of such a place where the people where clothes like unto yours, perhaps you might enlighten me?"

Open;

[heart-my-hat.livejournal.com]

Yoite didn't know what had possessed him when he decided to come here-- Oh right, he didn't. By chance he had run into his former boss and the old lady had talked him into going out and having fun, joined by a few of his former workmates who thought this was a great idea, though Yoite himself was less excited about it. Couldn't be less excited even if he tried, really, as he didn't quite get the point of this all. He figured it had to be an American thing, to get so excited for something like this.

Either way, he found himself at the Faire just to keep his workmates quiet, even dressing up in the robes of a priest, despite feeling generally uncomfortable in them. He'd met up with the people from the flower shop earlier and then slipped off into the crowd, hoping to just get out of there and go back home and change back into something normal that didn't threaten to show off the scar on his neck.

Of course, once it became noon this all changed.

In fact, Yoite, the priest, was out on a round away from the church, politely greeting those who came up to him, with a smile that was a little awkward, but quite genuine. He might not have the same faith in God as he had had as a little boy, but he was quite determined to make sure that others knew the church was there to guide them on their path to Heaven, and forgiveness from their sins.

After all, what else was a priest to do, than listen to the suffering of the people and try to ease it. It didn't matter to him that he often suffered, health as frail as he himself looked, practically looking as if he was drowning in his robes most of the time. It was a duty he had accepted, a calling if you wish, to help those in need and be their support, as God too supported humanity.

That was what he wished to believe anyway, and very much the image he portrayed, despite feeling increasingly more bitter toward the world in general. It helped that he was good at keeping up appearances, which was pretty much why he was taking a stroll now, to meet with people, speak to them, perhaps nudge them in direction of the church...

[sweatquius.livejournal.com]

Still furious from his earlier encounter with the rogue bard, Gamzee, Equius stormed from the artisans to mingle grumpily with a more savory crowd. Perhaps practice some archery. Sure, he always broke his bows in half every time he tried, but there was a first time for everything. He would simply be more careful this time.

Searching for the archery targets, he bypassed the crowds -- a man on a mission -- and bumped shoulders with some on his way. He hated apologies, but considering his incredible strength it was likely only proper that he did.

"I apologize," he said sullenly. "I didn't see you there."

OPEN.....

[ohnoyousquidnt.livejournal.com]

By the lake is a princess, holding up cup of fresh tea and chatting cheerily with the sea serpent-- an odd sight to any that would pass by. But then again, this was a somewhat odd princess to begin with.

As she sipped a well-brewed Earl Grey, Feferi adjusted her Pisces-stamped hat with a bright smile. "Sir Serpent, I'd disagree on the matter of fish prices. It's not too EXCITING that they've risen. But really, there's no fishing about for an easy solution, is there?"

/scuttles in

[crabulous]

Well look who it is! It's Friar Zoidberg, a jolly, round fellow in monk's robes with a large belly and an even larger and more hideous smile. He gives the princess an exaggerated bow, then one to the sea serpent, exhaling loudly, for he is quite out of breath.

"Pardon me, your majesty, my lord." He appears quite humble, and just a little bit hungry. "Perhaps Zoidberg might be allowed to weigh in his most expert opinion on the matter of fish prices...?"

bwahaha guess who this is for (answer: husbando)

[radiantly]

The Captain's orders had been clear; his crew was to plunder the necessary supplies from the coastal villages and make their way back to their vessel, the Bonney Pumpkin, before sundown so that they could set sail before the King and his guards had the chance to swoop in and stop them. It was an easy mission, too. The pirate crew needed food and fresh water before heading south for more open seas and later to the famed Barbary coast. Any trinkets of value would also be looked upon favorably, and the young lady pirate, Miss Angie was quite determined that she would bring back the most valuable loot to the Captain.

She headed for the village, paying no mind to the fancy beasties lurking in the woods. She was a lady on a mission. Whatever food or drink she could carry, she would, and she would use her trusty dagger on anyone who stood in her way.

The market seemed the most ideal place to start, what with foods and beverages made readily available. She scanned the stalls, blending into the crowds rather well. No one ever suspecting the pretty young thing was actually a no good pirate wench. It was an advantage she held over the stupid land-lovers. There were also unusual looking toys and weapons for sale. Perhaps she could steal away a new sword for the captain. Or maybe even a small leather pouch for herself...

Her eyes settled on a doll. Something small, made of wood. It was the kind of thing she'd have loved in her girlhood. If only she'd had such a pretty doll, maybe she would have stayed in her village in Jersey. Maybe she would not have run away to sail the seas.

The Captain would surely like this doll, too. The Captain fancied such frivolous things.

Angie covertly glanced around, to see if she was being watched. Noting that the coast was clear, she snatched it up and shoved it in her satchel.

Re: bwahaha guess who this is for (answer: husbando)

[superspeeds]

Pietro's eyes had followed her since she'd wandered into the small square, but it was easy enough to avoid drawing attention to that fact. He'd become used to existing outside of most people's notice. It was simply easier that way, considering his lineage and lifestyle. Most people in the village would rather not be associated with a gypsy, after all.

He continued to whittle away at the piece he was working on. A set of soon to be brightly color nesting dolls. Eventually, the she made her way over to his set up, glancing around oddly as she did. It was only when she plucked the doll up from the makeshift table underneath that Pietro understood why her eyes had been darting around so strangely. In less than a second, he caught her opposite hand in a grip strong enough to keep someone of her size from running away.

"Forgive me, milady, but I believe you have something of mine."

OPEN (feel free to help him or just watch in amazement)

[inhisrighthand.livejournal.com]

He'd heard a rumor that there was some kind of sea monster in the lake. So there he was, standing at the edge of the water. "Huh. Thought it'd be bigger," he muttered as he peered out across the man-made body of water. At least that ruled out any truly epic-scale monsters lurking beneath the waves.

Turning to his side, he picked up a boulder he'd lugged all the way from the park. "Sorry, pal, but I gotta make sure," he muttered as he chucked it into the middle of the lake. Water shot into the air as if a torpedo had exploded, and then he waited. And waited. And soon the water was calm again, with no sign of a sea serpent.

"Well, that's that," he said, lighting up a cigarette as he began to walk away. Suddenly, with lightning-fast speed, a snake-like tail shot out of the water and wrapped around Hellboy's chest. "SON OF A--" he shouted as it jerked him backward and he disappeared into the water, leaving only his cigarette lying on the shore.

After a few seconds of silence, the head of the beast shot up out of the water, with Hellboy between its jaws. "GAH!" he shouted as it bit down on him, huge teeth piercing his skin and coat. He responded by pounding on its face with his stone hand. "Yeah? Doesn't feel good, does it?" he yelled as the creature let out a pained cry and he loosened himself from its teeth. Danging with one hand clutching its tongue, he proceeded to shower the monster with blows until it disappeared back under the water--with Hellboy in tow.

MAYPOLE

[enigmaestro.livejournal.com]

[In the eastern atmosphere of the fair grounds stands an erected pole shimmering with hundred of ribbons. Every recognizable color flutters in the wind, beckoning revelers to bind these hues in a springtime celebration. Young lovers hover around, shyly flushing at the sun-warmed touch of silk and the breath flesh of each other. Children laugh at the sight, lone figures wander in the cooling shade. This is a place of joy, surely, but that doesn't obscure the possibility of darker intrigues.]