#fivepoints;poltergeist

NOTICE FROM THE ALLIED WATCHMEN OF FIVE POINTS At approximately 2:45am, a humming sound vibrates through the valley. It catches on glass, on windows and trinkets, and mostly finds its home in hollow items, like jars. The humming intensifies until it becomes a ringing, rattling the gilded chandelier in the Post Office, clattering against the back counter of the Porter Café. It isn’t an attack, though. It’s a signal.

A fine, booming voice reaches out.

“By ordered of the Allied Watchmen of Five Points--” 

Captain Hatfield Hayes had one of those basso profundo voices that really etched in your bones.

“The spirit has been identified.”

They’d caught him flitting around several areas, the sensors the watchmen had put up earlier in the day catching light. First at the Bakehouse, again -- he seemed to like his former haunts. And then the Academy. Greengardens. The post office. He rattled around the town like it was his personal playground, and they let him, watching, learning.

Arlo.

A lieutenant of Balthazar, adept in misery and war. They caught his reflection in the window of Dawes Draperies, the gray-green skin and jet-black hair mirroring his description in Captain Hayes’ grimoire. He was sly, clever. And they’d brought him here themselves.

Captain Hayes sighed, the sound reaching the valley like a soft rain.

“All are instructed to leave their posts and meet in the village square.”

The square wasn’t actually a square, but a meeting of three roads and five corners. A pentagram was laid in slate amidst the cobblestone. 

“Join hands and form a circle. Elders from each coven will lead us in incantation.”

It was necessary for all three. Unity.

“Don’t delay.”

NEXT UP AT FIVE POINTS  The poltergeist has been identified as Arlo, a minor demon. He prides himself on causing chaos and misery in the wake of war. Your characters may be feeling particularly agitated or emotionally low as a result of his presence. Take comfort in the presence of your neighbors, and join hands.

“Right, then.”

Her words had a few too many syllables, laced with a thick-as-molasses drawl. Stella strolled around the wide foyer of the post office, her kitten heel boots clipping against the marble. A few lamps posted along the stone columns lit the room in a greenish glow, turning her hair even crimson, her skin sallow.

Stella nodded, decisively. “Might as well get to it, honey.” She knew Imogen Hayes. Knew her when she was little, a hellion, knew her when she was a bit older, a bride. Funny how things changed. A ring of keys to the office in her hand, she inserted the first into the wide doors behind the counter. “Shall we take a look at the vault?”

Then he saw her. Like he said before, she was unmissable. Her white hair glowed in the dark like a halo and in that moment, all Samuel felt was relief. She was here. She was alive. He mumbled an excuse me, and started walking. That walk turned into a jog, until it turned into a run and his lips parted, shouting her name before he could stop himself.

‘‘Zadie! Zadie!’‘

Relief.

All he could feel was relief. And she turned around, but he was already there. His arms around her, his face in her hair, breathing in her smell. Oh, her hair. She was okay. Samuel pulled back, his hands on her upper arms as he looked her over. Samuel could barely feel the blood still dripping from his ear, down his neck. All he could think about was her

She was here.

She was okay.

‘‘Zadie.’‘

Maddox stared at shellacked pies frozen in time. Lemon and meringue fossils inside a glass case near the diner. The rabbit feet and rotten apple cores in the vending machine looked more appetizing. “I see there is great confidence in the Watchmen if the entire town must be brought out for a ghost. Nice.” Seriously, why had he been assigned to the Watchmen again? And why was Valko there? If the man thought he’d sit on his ass and order Maddox around he would be mistaken. He cast a glance to the coven leader. “Find anything?” 

@minilocke

Among the list of places Cypris had little desire to venture back into those stone hallways and inner workings of the beast of a building the Academy was ranked very high; he couldn't say that his education there had been horrible but the social side of it hadn't really been much of a positive in those lonely and awkward years.  He wasn’t that person anymore, not the wayward, too-curious youngest of his family trying to live up to the accomplishments of the siblings before him; he wasn’t a great deal many things he used to be back then before the war and some..he wished he still were.

Felt like a lifetime past compared to the odd number of years it in fact had been, and now mandate from the powers that be within the town had shoved him right back amid the dull echo of tiled floors and looming doorways. It was a fitting enough setting to be chasing ghosts, wasn't it? A patchwork building that reeked of magic from every corner and the tensions of adolescence haunting those rooms just as strong as any spell. 

Was it really the sort of place that was even safe when it came to poltergeist? Didn't those unsteady spirits feed off the sort of disjointed, emotionally-charged energy that was bound to be an excess there?

Cypris had enough sense to know that, even with as much as he longed to learn more about the gray lines between life and death, he certainly didn't have any solid experience in dealing with the ugly side of it. 

He also had just as little idea who the poor soul cast into that place with him for the evening; with any luck they'd last out the night without a fight but luck was always a slim idea. And if it truly was some earth-trapped spirit charged by intensity that was all the more reason to keep his head out of the clouds and his focus even; which was all grand to know but Cypris had a terrible habit of getting distracted. 

Even then, waiting around for his counterpart in that evening of specter-chasing, his mind wandered the old memories of those hallways; somewhere between possibilities that made him a bit eager to see what might happen and wariness, there was a great deal to think over. That didn't even count in the unexpected factor soon to arrive, unless they never showed and he was to carry on by himself all night in that old and groaning building. Or nearly alone, not counting Gris tucked at his shoulder, of course. 

A sound stirred his attention, eyes drawn from study of a few faded old words scrawled on the main hallway wall towards the echo of motion, steps reverberated like a landslide in that space and at least he didn't have to worry about anybody sneaking up on him as they approached.

With only a small scuffle to iron out on the East side of the square, Captain Hayes soon gave each coven leader a sign of the affirmative before stepping into the circle himself. Everyone was in place. Everyone had a place. The ritual could begin.

Incantations were delicate things. This one started out as a soft murmur. Only a few deep voices harmonizing with a scratchy soprano. As each person in the circle added their voice, the sound swelled. Unity was important, and so was timing. Each syllable needed to hit at the same time.

An itchy sort of warmth began to spread from palm to palm. Magic seeking out magic, grabbing on and growing bigger than any one person could do on their own. Waves of magic reached out, drawing the valley’s unruly specter toward the town square. Arlo made his presence known by smashing in the window of the nearest shop.

Snowballs began to fly at their faces. Some of the broken glass went flying too. Captain Hayes shouted once to hold the line, and was then drowned out by an unearthly sound that brought with it an overwhelming sense of agitation that seemed to settle in the chest each participant. 

A bubble of blue light appeared in the middle of the circle. Anyone who could stare at it for longer than a couple seconds could catch a glimpse of Arlo’s contorted facial features. Eyes that were several times too large, and pointed where they should be curved. Strange markings on the sides of his face. A mouth that seemed to run vertical rather than horizontal. With each passing second that the incantation continued, the bubble grew brighter and bigger until its edge ran the length of the chain the covens had created.

Hold the line.

Itchy warmth in their hands began to burn, and the light from the bubble was so bright that several people closed their eyes. Brighter. Brighter until the light could be seen even with eyes closed. Then the town square went unnaturally silent. Pop. Everything went dark. A violent gust of wind blew through the circle, yanking each hand away from the hand that held it. It blew away hats and scarves, and shoved people to the ground with a unnatural strength. Then it was gone.

So was the town square.

The good news is that Arlo has been pushed back into the spirit realm. The bad news is that the force of magic required to do this spell has rebounded. All participants will find themselves instantly teleported to a new location at the conclusion of the ritual. Some participants may be worse for wear, and it would be wise to seek shelter soon as the storm predicted by the Community of Unholy Saints has taken a sharp turn toward a blizzard.

The closest landmark to your character is:

The Keyes’ Carnival grounds. The rides don’t appear to be running at the moment, and the funnel cake stand is closed.

Maddox @darkxkeyes

Stella @stella-dawes

Eli @wildmansoul

Cypris @arsenic-inyourveins

Ambrosia @ambrosia-atwood

Titania @titaniias

A graveyard in Circle of Nightfall territory. The oldest headstone dates back to the 1600′s, and there’s a small cabin for a groundskeeper that seems to be empty.

Samuel @samuelsharpe

Rowan @rowanmaclain

Zadie @zadie-maclain

Wendy @witchxwendy

Declan @pickthelocke

Minerva @minilocke

The Rathmore Farm. The barn is occupied by a couple of pygmy goats and one alpaca. No lights are on in the farmhouse:

Ban @banavett

Valko @valko-rathmore

Tempest @tempest-wood

Severin @severin-ealing

Regan @regan-oconnor

December 15 | 3:07am

The Bakehouse

Marjorie Sharpe was dozing off in her chair, awaiting the first arrival of footsteps at the front door. The bread was never late, never early. Always on time. And it didn’t matter if the valley was cold, or dark, or snowy -- and it was, which was why she’d spent the night there -- they opened at 6am, sharp. Father Rathmore would be there, prompt as ever, demanding his beignets and coffee, and damned if she wouldn’t be ready. 

A noise echoed behind her and she startled awake, blue eyes glancing beadily around. She checked her watch. Still early. Still late. Shifting, the woman reclined back in her chair again, drawing the blanket up to her chin, and she was very nearly asleep when -- rustle, slam, squeeeeak.

The flutter and thud of flour being strewn greeted her as the baker rounded the corner, flinging on the lamps. The room illuminated in a soft, golden glow, white flour streaked and all mixers -- six of them! -- on high. She shrieked, and was about to charge into the room -- Majorie was never one to run from danger -- when she spotted a pair of green, glimmering eyes.

“Oh, no. Not again.”

A poltergeist has taken up residence in Five Points. After wreaking havoc on the Post Office, and twining all the rhododendron leaves in Greengardens together, it moved onto The Porter Café, where it replaced caramel syrup for whiskey, vanilla for vodka, and the reverse -- resulting in some very inappropriate milkshakes. But it wasn’t spotted until Majorie Sharpe caught full sight of it in The Bakehouse this morning.

The poltergeist must be caught.

By order of the Watchmen, all citizens of Five Points are required to appear at their assigned location no later than sundown on December 15. The town will be holding a stakeout to capture the demon, and banish it back from the valley. Please bring adequate clothing, and ensure for childcare beforehand if necessary, as all participants will be expected to stay through sunrise.

Nothing says the holidays like a poltergeist of our very own! Please see the list below and start a thread with your partner, staking out your assigned location. Be sure to tag it fivepoints;poltergeist!

The Academy

Cypris Breaux ( @arsenic-inyourveins ) & Minerva Locke ( @minilocke ) 

The Bakehouse  

Declan Locke ( @pickthelocke ) & Severin Ealing ( @severin-ealing )

Dawes Draperies

Spencer Locke ( @lockedown-spencer ) & Ban Avett ( @banavett )

Greengardens

Gaal “Eli” Kadesh ( @wildmansoul ), Tempest Wood ( @tempest-wood ) & Wendy Atwood ( @witchxwendy )

Meece’s Diner

Maddox Keyes ( @darkxkeyes ) & Valko Rathmore ( @valko-rathmore )

North Outpost

Zadie MacLain ( @zadie-maclain ) & Rowan MacLain ( @rowanmaclain )

Nox Livery

Vera Clarke ( @verathetwentysomethingwitch ) & Georgie Sharpe ( @georgie-sharpe )

Post Office & The Clocktower

Stella Dawes ( @stella-dawes​ ) & Imogen Hayes ( @imogenhayes )

A circle in a square had been blown apart and Maddox found himself in a familiar location: the entrance of the carnival funhouse. In the shrill undertone of howling wind he thought the coyote call of his familiar could be heard. Maddox answered. I’m at the carnival. Stay home.

If anyone else turned up after a spell which revolted against the town-- fuck ‘em. They were on their own. 

It was difficult to pry the door open with a few feet of snow already settled against the bottom. Once inside he produced a small orb of floating fire. More for heat than light. He knew the insides of the funhouse the way he knew every line etched on the palm of his hand. 

The long tunnel no longer spinning. Without the feet of visitors stepping on them the shifting staircase was also still and frozen. Maddox sat down at the top of them. It wasn’t long before he heard the creak of the door again, the sharp wail of weather growing louder before being muted again. “Go find another spot to wait out the storm. This one is taken.”