10-22-2018, 02:05 PM
Glassheart:
They follow her with sluggish steps and raised knives, poised to deliver a killing blow the moment they’re able. The hordes all converge until they circle her with countless burning stares and sharp cackles. Redemption, redemption at last. But then she takes his power from him and wills it to obey her instead. The carved smiles twist to frowns as they pause together, lowering their arms and watching as the water spout whips itself toward the sky. Jack is still drunk on his rage and cheap liquor, so the clones all rush forward to the storm to allow themselves to be ripped into shrapnel and debris while she climbs. Let her cyclone slice and impale her on the broken shards of his army, then.
Some tangle in one another’s cloaks, though, while others are simply tossed aside by her creation. Only a dozen or so survive the journey and all but one are ripped apart. Still, his cackling echoes as he uses what he has left to keep one decoy together. The fire goes out in the grounded copies, entombed in their frozen clothing and tangled limbs.
The lone copy, if it is indeed only a copy anymore, freezes the water he touches until she’s nearly within his grasp. But that is when she makes her escape atop her golden steed. A howl of rage erupts from him as he reclaims some the strength that is rightfully his. She’s too weak to steal all of it from him now, he realizes too late.
And so he leaps from her frozen spout, a monument to her might, and gives chase. Each stride is longer than the last until he’s simply leaping after her. He snatches the knife from one of his abandoned decoys as he passes it by and hurls it after her, praying it impales her heart or at least the horse she rides.
Ilma:
The rock she flings at him plunges through the gourd of the decoy attacking her, sending bits of pumpkin and sticky innards flying. The copy’s flame extinguishes and it falls to its knees before crumbling to the ground. A single seed lands between her feet and glimmers in the midnight moon’s glow.
North:
The clones all gather along the surface of the water to watch their brother sink into the black depths of the water. They debate diving in after him but they wait, eyes narrowed to observe what becomes of him. When his head bobs up to the surface, they all snarl and give a wave of their collective hands to dismiss the frost they produce. Each Jack is somehow heavier than they appear and they sink to her with surprising speed. But then her screech reaches them and they clutch their heads in pain at the sound.
One clone dares to reach out one bony hand to its brethren and their flames drift from their triangle sockets to gather in his hand. Their burning sends little bubbles to the surface until he roughly shoves the large flame against his face. His copies drift slowly back to the surface as the first dead Jack had, all limp and idly floating face down in the current. Now the flickering light burns up and over his sockets as he turns to face North, aiming his blade at her once more.
The water begins to boil around him now as he gives a kick of his long legs, sending him speeding through the water at her. His screams of pain and anger are muffled in the water but his intent is clear. This will be his final charge and only one of them will return to the shore alive.
Decimate:
The sound of children’s laughter used to bring a smile to his face. He used to craft little tissue ghosts a goodie bags for the trick-or-treaters just to hear them giggle at his silly gifts. But now the sound rots his mood further. Now he’s leaping after the boy as he scrambles to escape the spirit’s attacks. It’s his turn to laugh and cackle at the wide-eyed look of horror on Decimate’s face as the spikes all crash up around him.
The stars bend to his fury and rip themselves from the heavens to fall around them in a horrible display of his strength. Jack is too drunk to control their trajectory and so he slings them where ever they may land. Finally, the child is within his reach and he snatches him up by the scruff of his little neck. He turns him to stare into his small eyes to search for tears welling up in them. Only the sound of children’s sobs could bring him any sense of satisfaction anymore.
But this isn’t him. This isn’t what the holiday is about, he realizes as the boy’s desperate breaths fill his invisible ears.
He sets Decimate down and crouches so they are still eye to eye. Jack breathes a slow sigh as he cradles his chin in a clawed hand. The spirit could snap his neck like a dry twig but the thought brings him no comfort. There is still anger and frustration brewing within him but there was nothing won if he simply crushed the life from something so helpless and small. So he reaches out and pricks Decimate’s cheek with a long, curved claw. A single drop of blood beads from the wound, which Jack then smudges across the boy’s forehead.
“In your death, I’d find no joy. After all, you’re just a boy,” he explains as he sets him down carefully. The spikes slowly sink into the ground all around them and leave little mounds of dirt in their place. “Catch your breath and dry your eyes. It’s time for you to claim your prize.”
Disastardly:
His head cannot support her weight with its hollow structure and so it crumbles, sending the blue flame bursting from within. A seed falls from his head and becomes attached to her neck by the sticky residue of his pumpkin face. Jack’s body falls to a crumpled heap of too-long legs and tattered clothing while she flees from his corpse.
Revel:
When he pivots, the copies all scramble to stop so that they might not collide with him. They listen with wild stares as he presents his case and glance at one another curiously. They lower their knives and the flames in their heads all die but two. The wigged pumpkin and a Jack look-alike step closer until the normal decoy turns to look at the other. He grumbles something under his breath and slices the other with the knife he still wields so that Linda tumbles to the ground.
Then he resumes walking towards Revel with the rough smile still carved into his face. Slowly, so slowly, he raises his arm before jerking it forward suddenly – only to touch the tip of his knife to Revel’s chin. This one is a kindred spirit, he’s realized. They are each clumsy fools in a world of sleek and eloquent elites. But he still hates what’s become of his game and so he lets the pointed edge poke into the stranger’s skin.
His gnarled hand roughly smears the little drops of blood across Revel’s forehead.
“I suppose you’ve made your case and so I choose to end my chase. Make your wish but make it quick, your face is going to make me sick.”
Faolin:
Jack’s decoys gather to aid him when they see a mare lunging toward him. They dumbly try to cluster around them and reach to claw her with their ugly hands. But for a moment, he almost considers her case as she questions what he stands to gain from killing her. Each swing is less forceful and he hesitates a little more until she decides to change it up. Instead, she baits him with hurtful teasing and heartless insults. His assault regains its prior ferocity and he snarls with each lash of his whip. Jack’s
He’s blind with rage as he chases her, gnashing his teeth as he imagines ripping her throat out. The copies go dim and fall apart as they run alongside him until a single Jack remains. Each extinguished decoy lends its strength until he’s running at her with a frightening pace. The blue fire of his pumpkin head begins to hiss as it burns hotter and the flames lick at the sockets of his hollow eyes. An awful fit of laughter begins to fill his throat as she runs into the burning forest. He brought with him an autumn frost but inside he burned like hellfire, like nightmares and disaster.
And so he continues forward after her. He can’t wait to see that beautiful mane of hers catch fire while she tries her best to make her escape, never mind the sounds she’ll make.
Otrera:
The decoy rushes toward her with its hands outstretched to grab her tiny throat, but the string of lights snatches his legs from him. When he hits the ground, his pumpkin head smashes into orange chunks of mush and gourd. A seed lands between her forelegs, shimmering with a hint of its master’s strength.
@[Ilma] @[Disastardly] @[Otrera]
You didn't make it to the final round, but you've been given a seed from Jack's head. As you know, they each contain a little magic in them. You can use this magic to claim a zero space trait, an extra gender pick, or a color pick for your next foal. Congratulations on surviving and a job well done!
As for the rest of you, this mess isn't over quite yet. @[Decimate] and @[Revel], Jack has decided that killing you slowly would not be so fun after all. Use this opportunity to stab him in the face or make a wish and get the hell out of Dodge. The choice is yours.
@[Glassheart], @[North], and @[Faolin], Jack still very much wants to kill you. If you choose to die then you will be resurrected, or you can murder him and grab some of those seeds before he regenerates.
This round ends at 11:59 CT on Sunday. Same rules apply as before. If you have any questions, message me or PM me on Discord. Remember, this round is for all the marbles. Good luck!
They follow her with sluggish steps and raised knives, poised to deliver a killing blow the moment they’re able. The hordes all converge until they circle her with countless burning stares and sharp cackles. Redemption, redemption at last. But then she takes his power from him and wills it to obey her instead. The carved smiles twist to frowns as they pause together, lowering their arms and watching as the water spout whips itself toward the sky. Jack is still drunk on his rage and cheap liquor, so the clones all rush forward to the storm to allow themselves to be ripped into shrapnel and debris while she climbs. Let her cyclone slice and impale her on the broken shards of his army, then.
Some tangle in one another’s cloaks, though, while others are simply tossed aside by her creation. Only a dozen or so survive the journey and all but one are ripped apart. Still, his cackling echoes as he uses what he has left to keep one decoy together. The fire goes out in the grounded copies, entombed in their frozen clothing and tangled limbs.
The lone copy, if it is indeed only a copy anymore, freezes the water he touches until she’s nearly within his grasp. But that is when she makes her escape atop her golden steed. A howl of rage erupts from him as he reclaims some the strength that is rightfully his. She’s too weak to steal all of it from him now, he realizes too late.
And so he leaps from her frozen spout, a monument to her might, and gives chase. Each stride is longer than the last until he’s simply leaping after her. He snatches the knife from one of his abandoned decoys as he passes it by and hurls it after her, praying it impales her heart or at least the horse she rides.
Ilma:
The rock she flings at him plunges through the gourd of the decoy attacking her, sending bits of pumpkin and sticky innards flying. The copy’s flame extinguishes and it falls to its knees before crumbling to the ground. A single seed lands between her feet and glimmers in the midnight moon’s glow.
North:
The clones all gather along the surface of the water to watch their brother sink into the black depths of the water. They debate diving in after him but they wait, eyes narrowed to observe what becomes of him. When his head bobs up to the surface, they all snarl and give a wave of their collective hands to dismiss the frost they produce. Each Jack is somehow heavier than they appear and they sink to her with surprising speed. But then her screech reaches them and they clutch their heads in pain at the sound.
One clone dares to reach out one bony hand to its brethren and their flames drift from their triangle sockets to gather in his hand. Their burning sends little bubbles to the surface until he roughly shoves the large flame against his face. His copies drift slowly back to the surface as the first dead Jack had, all limp and idly floating face down in the current. Now the flickering light burns up and over his sockets as he turns to face North, aiming his blade at her once more.
The water begins to boil around him now as he gives a kick of his long legs, sending him speeding through the water at her. His screams of pain and anger are muffled in the water but his intent is clear. This will be his final charge and only one of them will return to the shore alive.
Decimate:
The sound of children’s laughter used to bring a smile to his face. He used to craft little tissue ghosts a goodie bags for the trick-or-treaters just to hear them giggle at his silly gifts. But now the sound rots his mood further. Now he’s leaping after the boy as he scrambles to escape the spirit’s attacks. It’s his turn to laugh and cackle at the wide-eyed look of horror on Decimate’s face as the spikes all crash up around him.
The stars bend to his fury and rip themselves from the heavens to fall around them in a horrible display of his strength. Jack is too drunk to control their trajectory and so he slings them where ever they may land. Finally, the child is within his reach and he snatches him up by the scruff of his little neck. He turns him to stare into his small eyes to search for tears welling up in them. Only the sound of children’s sobs could bring him any sense of satisfaction anymore.
But this isn’t him. This isn’t what the holiday is about, he realizes as the boy’s desperate breaths fill his invisible ears.
He sets Decimate down and crouches so they are still eye to eye. Jack breathes a slow sigh as he cradles his chin in a clawed hand. The spirit could snap his neck like a dry twig but the thought brings him no comfort. There is still anger and frustration brewing within him but there was nothing won if he simply crushed the life from something so helpless and small. So he reaches out and pricks Decimate’s cheek with a long, curved claw. A single drop of blood beads from the wound, which Jack then smudges across the boy’s forehead.
“In your death, I’d find no joy. After all, you’re just a boy,” he explains as he sets him down carefully. The spikes slowly sink into the ground all around them and leave little mounds of dirt in their place. “Catch your breath and dry your eyes. It’s time for you to claim your prize.”
Disastardly:
His head cannot support her weight with its hollow structure and so it crumbles, sending the blue flame bursting from within. A seed falls from his head and becomes attached to her neck by the sticky residue of his pumpkin face. Jack’s body falls to a crumpled heap of too-long legs and tattered clothing while she flees from his corpse.
Revel:
When he pivots, the copies all scramble to stop so that they might not collide with him. They listen with wild stares as he presents his case and glance at one another curiously. They lower their knives and the flames in their heads all die but two. The wigged pumpkin and a Jack look-alike step closer until the normal decoy turns to look at the other. He grumbles something under his breath and slices the other with the knife he still wields so that Linda tumbles to the ground.
Then he resumes walking towards Revel with the rough smile still carved into his face. Slowly, so slowly, he raises his arm before jerking it forward suddenly – only to touch the tip of his knife to Revel’s chin. This one is a kindred spirit, he’s realized. They are each clumsy fools in a world of sleek and eloquent elites. But he still hates what’s become of his game and so he lets the pointed edge poke into the stranger’s skin.
His gnarled hand roughly smears the little drops of blood across Revel’s forehead.
“I suppose you’ve made your case and so I choose to end my chase. Make your wish but make it quick, your face is going to make me sick.”
Faolin:
Jack’s decoys gather to aid him when they see a mare lunging toward him. They dumbly try to cluster around them and reach to claw her with their ugly hands. But for a moment, he almost considers her case as she questions what he stands to gain from killing her. Each swing is less forceful and he hesitates a little more until she decides to change it up. Instead, she baits him with hurtful teasing and heartless insults. His assault regains its prior ferocity and he snarls with each lash of his whip. Jack’s
He’s blind with rage as he chases her, gnashing his teeth as he imagines ripping her throat out. The copies go dim and fall apart as they run alongside him until a single Jack remains. Each extinguished decoy lends its strength until he’s running at her with a frightening pace. The blue fire of his pumpkin head begins to hiss as it burns hotter and the flames lick at the sockets of his hollow eyes. An awful fit of laughter begins to fill his throat as she runs into the burning forest. He brought with him an autumn frost but inside he burned like hellfire, like nightmares and disaster.
And so he continues forward after her. He can’t wait to see that beautiful mane of hers catch fire while she tries her best to make her escape, never mind the sounds she’ll make.
Otrera:
The decoy rushes toward her with its hands outstretched to grab her tiny throat, but the string of lights snatches his legs from him. When he hits the ground, his pumpkin head smashes into orange chunks of mush and gourd. A seed lands between her forelegs, shimmering with a hint of its master’s strength.
@[Ilma] @[Disastardly] @[Otrera]
You didn't make it to the final round, but you've been given a seed from Jack's head. As you know, they each contain a little magic in them. You can use this magic to claim a zero space trait, an extra gender pick, or a color pick for your next foal. Congratulations on surviving and a job well done!
As for the rest of you, this mess isn't over quite yet. @[Decimate] and @[Revel], Jack has decided that killing you slowly would not be so fun after all. Use this opportunity to stab him in the face or make a wish and get the hell out of Dodge. The choice is yours.
@[Glassheart], @[North], and @[Faolin], Jack still very much wants to kill you. If you choose to die then you will be resurrected, or you can murder him and grab some of those seeds before he regenerates.
This round ends at 11:59 CT on Sunday. Same rules apply as before. If you have any questions, message me or PM me on Discord. Remember, this round is for all the marbles. Good luck!
Jack O'Lantern
O! Ghostly friend, thy hair's on end! What fearful fate do you portend?
