Ralph and Bobby were asleep. Shawn turned to his side the bed sheets ruffling and saw the book. It was sitting on the shelf. At one time, it was a book he wanted to read because it was fun. Now it was a homework assignment from some demon-witch in the dark underworld of the Circus.

"Read The Twelfth Book, Sword of Seradin..." Melinda's words echoed in his mind as the dry heat of the summer night filled the room.

It would be so easy to do it. But also, it would be easy just to roll over and go to sleep.

Shawn knew it would be so easy just to roll over and go back to sleep. But, he knew that at this point he was entirely dependent on the good graces of Melinda and the Order to stay alive, so he quietly rolled out of bed and went to his bookshelf.

The book felt different somehow, as Shawn clutched it in his hands and brought it back to his bed. The pages were foreign, as if they held some deep secret yet to be discovered.

Immediately as Shawn began to read, the book was different. Not just different in the way it felt. The words on the page were literally different. Totally different. They were written in a different, craggy, font. Gone were the block letters on the white background. It looked like some kind of old ghost had scrawled on the pages with a hand practiced in writing demonic spells for some medieval king. The book started in the middle of a sentence:

"...they are kind of like sled dogs with no sled. Like beasts of burden. They needed a load to pull. It was a question of what was real? But what is real?

It doesn't matter what people say. The correlation between what people say and their actions is not a measure of truth. Sometimes it doesn't match.

But you know what does match? No one argues with their pain. Life is suffering. Pain is real. It depends once again what you mean by real. People act as if their pain is real. That poses a problem. Life is a pain. Life is suffering. And why is that? Because you can be broken, hurt and destroyed. That seems pretty self-evident.

At worse off: you know it.

A chimp can recognize itself in a mirror and so can a dolphin. But that isn't being aware. Human beings, and kids most of all, are the only beings that have discovered the future. And that is quite a burden to carry. The idea that the future is limited. That as a kid, you can't live forever. Even if death is far away. You know its coming.

If life is pain, then what are we to do? There must be some way to act that would make you a good person. A person that can alleviate suffering. If the suffering itself is making you question the meaning of life, then making less suffering would be a good choice as a way of living and...."


In the middle of the next page, there was a note:

Meet me in Tiffany's room across the street in five minutes. Don't be late

-Griffix

Shawn was getting used to sneaking out of his room at night, but five minutes still was not a lot of time. He quickly got dressed and ready to quietly head across the street.

There was a thin, unusual dry aspect to the night air as Shawn stepped out onto the driveway. He could see that the windows across the street had no light coming from inside of them. Why would they? His friends were out of town.

Shawn crossed the road across the street and headed up Tiffany's driveway. He got to the front door.

It was locked.

Shawn could try to pick the lock. Or maybe find some other way in.


OOC: Shawn first rolls wits + composure

OOC: 20:58, Today: Shawn Cramer rolled 1 success using 4d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s with rolls of 8,5,2,3. Wits + Composure.

The door was locked. That much was clear. But Shawn also knew that the windows were locked as well. He could see the latches on the storm windows pushed to the left. There was no way he was going to get through the front side of the house. And while he couldn't be sure that the windows on the second floor were locked, there were no ladders or terraces to climb that would allow him to check easily.

Shawn could spend time going to the back side of the house, it might be that the back door was unlocked. But that would take time away, and he might not make it to Tiffany's room in time, if that was indeed important to Griffix.

OOC: Shawn Chooses

Shawn tries to pick the lock with a nearby stick: Dexterity + Larceny

Or

Shawn picks up a rock, breaks the window and enters (no roll required)

Or

Shawn risks being late to the Griffix meeting, goes around back to check to see if the backdoor is unlocked.

Shawn didn't want to risk being spotted or being late for the meeting, and though he'd never picked a lock before, he'd seen it in movies before. How hard could it be?

OOC: 09:06, Today: Shawn Cramer rolled 5 successes using 5d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s with rolls of 7,10(+10,9),3,10(+7),8. Dexterity + Larceny + WP.

It was just a small piece of rust metal that had served as a stake for some kind of plant last summer or many summers ago. Probably the last one since the Robinson's had moved out quite some time ago.

When Shawn heard the 'click' of the lock, he heard Eddy's voice in the back of his head for just an instant; 'Presto!'

The door opened and Shawn was inside. Directly ahead was the stairs, and beyond that the dark interior of the kitchen. To the left, Shawn could see the basement where the Old Bobby had put Ralph when he had gotten tired of him. Of course, thanks to Shawn's efforts, Bobby wouldn't be getting sick of Ralph any time soon.

Shawn moved across the hall and the old wooden floorboards creaked under his feet.

Shawn paused for a moment to listen for any reactions from the house at large. If all was quiet, he continued, stepping lightly this time, trying not to make floorboard sounds as he headed for Tiffany's room.

OOC: Shawn Rolls Stealth + Dexterity.


Shawn walked onto the stairs with the lightness of something anticipating that the floor would give out under their body mass. Every step was so light that he makes no sound at all. The stairs led upward, the cold, wooden steps were a dark, oak-brown during the daytime. Now they disappeared into the darkness as Shawn ascended. Each footstep brought him upward and deeper into the shadows that were the upstairs of the house.

That's when Shawn saw it.

It was coming from one of the rooms. A faint, pale glow that was unmistakable. The glow of a television. It cast a grayish-blue pallor unto the wooden floor. Shawn still had to climb the rest of the steps upward, only halfway between upstairs and downstairs. Still, there was no mistaking that light. It was the same light that Shawn would see when he used to come downstairs to get milk or a glass of water in the middle of the night and find Dad asleep on the couch, the TV on some show while he snored.

All Shawn could do was keep completely silent...

OOC: 21:42, Today: Shawn Cramer rolled 2 successes using 5d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s with rolls of 2,6,6,8,9. Stealth + Dexterity.

Shawn crept upstairs and around the corner of the bannister, silent as a shadow. He peered his head into doorway.

The light from the television illuminated Griffix's face as he sat on the bed Indian style next to one of Tiffany's dolls. His expression was one of interest at what the television was showing.

He didn't seem to notice Shawn.

Shawn silently walked over to Griffix, but didn't interrupt him or make a sound to break his concentration. Eventually Griffix would notice him.

Griffix didn't look at Shawn. He sat there Indian style looking at the TV screen.

"You're here on time, ya' are. That's a good thing too. I'm getting hungry. So hungry, I'm as weak as a salmon in a sandpit. I was going to go through Tiffany's closet an' find her diary, see if I could eat some of the pages out, ya' know. I'd have teared up this room like a blind cobbler’s thumb. It would have been a real mess."

"But I was lucky as I found her diary here." Griffix held up the diary, pink book with heart shapes on the cover in the dim light from the TV.

"Did you ever see this show?" Griffix said, pointing at the TV and now looking at Shawn.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=apGz-amZocs

Shawn shrugged his shoulders. "A couple times? It's on before GI Joe, so I mostly see the end of it."

But Shawn wasn't going to let himself be distracted by things like that. "What happened to Eddy?" The words came out in a rush.

"Ya' ran a series of cards in a certain order, ya' did. It ain't somethin' that hasn't been done before. But if you run that card trick to many times, you'll run that combination. Ace, Ace, Queen, Queen, King. Ya' have to run that combination with diamonds and hearts.  The person's got to be willin' too." Griffix said in his Irish brogue.

"And well, that's exactly what ya' did do, didn't ya'? Now poor Eddy's been sent to a place on the other side of the Veil far away. Or, I'd say, his soul's been sent away. Err... would ya' rather have me say You sent it away? Way, way far away. Nowhere near the Circus. Out past the Krinner."

"We don't go out past there. No one does."

"You didn't tell me that's how it works. You told me it'd make people like me more, but all it did was make them zone out for a bit." Shawn tried to stay polite, as if he was simply curious, hiding the accusatory feelings he was feeling.

"Don't be so hard on yourself lad." Griffix said, putting his small, leprechaun hand on Shawn's shoulder. "You've only been doin' the trick for short while. These things take time to practice. The kids like it though, right?"

"If they like it, then they like you. That's all part 'n parcel of being liked.  "You need to fine tune things-is all. And might I add, that practice makes perfect. Ya' have been practicin' haven't ya? I mean, alone n' such. Not just on kids like Eddy."

"These tricks from the Order 'r hundreds of years old. Maybe older. That kind of art takes time to master. You'll get there yet, though. I dunna doubt it for a second." Griffix explained, the glow of the television on his face in the dark room.

"Can I use it to bring a soul back?"

Griffix shook his head, his shaggy hair moving side to side in a vaguely dog-like manner. His arm withdrew from Shawn's shoulder.

"Maybe." He offered, not closing the door on the possibility. "But I'v got ta' say, I never seen such a thing used to bring'a lad back from past the Krinner. Ain't a soul in the Underworld beyond the veil that's ventured that far. Sort-of at the rubbish end of the world. In fact, it's a fine thing ya' know that it's called that down there: The End of the Word. Or the 'Edge of the World.' In a matter 'r' knowin' that for us down there, that's the very edge."


"The point I'mm'a tryin' ta' make lad, is that ya' got bigger fish ta' fry. We've got a soul contest ta' win. If ya' don't win that, there ain't nothin' worth nothin.' Ya' got to save yourself before ya' go runnin' off ta' save others."

"And part-o' the reason why I'm here, is ta' tell ya' that we need ta' send a message ta' the Clown troupe. They attacked one of our own. Although ya' find yourself as a junior member of that Order of Sybil, ya' do. Ya' still a member, ya' are. So for that, we canna not let it go unanswered."

Whatever Shawn’s thoughts were on Eddy’s situation were utterly derailed by the idea of a reprisal against the Clowns. “I’m not sure how I could help with that. It’s not like I can fight them.”

A look of dismay formed on Griffix's face behind the veil of shaggy bangs. His eyebrows drew up and his mouth opened in worry.

"Don't a-bee sayin' that lad. PLEASE!" he said, and his voice broke the silence of the house, suddenly much, much louder than the cartoon was.

"We was told ta' do it. If you ain't gonna do it...then...then.." He trailed off shaking his head as if worried by the possibility. "You donna-understand the pain that she can put on us." He finished.

He started up again, this time with serious, somber tone, like he was sharing a valuable lesson. It was the kind of voice an older brother might take on when explaining how a crazy relative acted to a younger child.


"A long, long time ago, I was a happier version of Griffix when I was first entered into the Order. A man who spent his days whistlin' duets with Acrobats before that all came to n' end. A dutiful worker, I'da brush me teeth twice a day."

"When I told the Fortune Teller I wouldn't sabotage the Acrobat's trampoline...somethin' funny happened."

"For whatever reason, one of ma' back teeth broke in half the next day. Wouldya' believe the cause turned out to be a hidden cavity that I didn’t know was there. So it was off to the dentist - The Master Maker."

"Although the pain of the broken tooth stayed on hard n' fast, I didda not let it distract me from me divine mission of tryin' to learn the tricks of the trade for our Order and I dedicated me time with cards and magic. I chatted up the Freak Show tent and even talked to the Clowns on occasion."

"Little did I know what horrors awaited me..lad. Little did I know..."

"After the Master Maker sucked out every spare bit of moisture from me gums, n' a rather violent clean', I was reclinin' in his tent chair, hummin' to myself. My hums, grew quieter as the choked and tortured screams started reaching me eardrums. I started becomin' nervous and almost jumped out of me skin when a Clown dressed in a strange costume with blood on his gloves started walkin' towards me. I’ll never forgot the fell words he spoke to me:"

"Hello, Griffix, this won’t hurt nay a bit."

I managed to swallow, which mind ya' was a minor miracle in and of itself, considerin' me mouth was still as dry as dead river. An then, I surrendered myself ta' the ministrations of that possible serial killer."

"The first rusty needle was small, and carried somethin' I later heard they got from Crowley's shed. So far so good, I thought."

"The second needle...Well....that one was slightly larger and carried a stronger painkiller. Uncomfortable, but bearable."

"Then came the third needle. Jumpin’ Jehoshaphat! It was it huge. It was so wide, I could barely see the maniac’s face on the other side. He lowered the monstrosity into me mouth and jammin'-it into me gums!"

"Shawn.... I swear. Sudden, overwhelmin' pain. I could feel everythin' as it slowly moved down me gums into me roots. All I could do was whimper n' agony as the first two needles proved completely useless. It lasted n' eternity: inch by painstakin' inch, until it finally reached its destination. By that point, I was almost weepin' in pain, but I donna-think that the Clown could hear me over his maniacal laughter. He injected it and slowly pushed it in, ignorin' my squalls. And then came the part that I remember most of all:

"Me mouth flooded with me own blood. I could feel it spurtin' from the wound, coatin' the inside with a layer of it. I donna remember the rest of the operation very well, since my the entire right side of me face went numb, but I will forever remember the agony I endured at the hands of the Master Maker's dentist. An all of it because I refused ta' do a job. No one told me that I shouldn't say no to her."

"Since that injection, I've been turnin' into a wolf more n' more. And I get hungry every time the Circus comes back to open."

He looked Shawn in the eye.

"Don't refuse it. Donna-make the same mistake I made. Some decisions once done, can never be changed."

Shawn raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture; the specifics were gruesome, but he'd always assumed defying the Order would come with terrible consequences. "No no no, I'm not refusing. I'm just...when she told you to sabotage the trampoline, it was something you could do, right? I was just hoping the Fortuneteller understands that I'm little and I don't know how to fight when she picks my job, is all."

"We're in a tough spot lad. A tough spot no doubt. We take a risk against the Clowns, then they might get us or even worse...."

"'Tis true. If we do nothin' we'd suffer too."

"I used ta' think it was a terrible thing. But you'd be surprised what you'd get used to. Each time the Circus comes back, I do feel I get more used to. But mind ya', that ain't the same thing as sayin' it gets easier."

Griffix took out his corn-cob pipe an stuck it in the side of his mouth, a gesture indicating he was thinking things over.

"We'll, we can start with a simple decision: Mr. Pipples or Gaggles. There. I put it out in the open for ya'. Pick one. When the cards on the table, its easier to play."

Shawn scratched his chin as he tried to hide his fear. "Gaggles, I guess? Since I know her better."

"Good." Griffix said. "That means ya' got to use the Rabbit's foot ya' do. Think of Gaggles before ya' go ahead and come down to the Underworld of the Circus lad. It should drop ya' right next to where she is, wherever she is. Then, you've got ta' find a way to take that Clown nose off."

"Once-er Clown nose has been taken off. Poof! Dead until the next time the Circus comes around!" He said triumphantly in the near darkness.

Griffix was speaking as if the whole thing was so simple to achieve.

“Umm, if I just show up in front of Gaggles, she’s going to stab me to death. Uh, immediately. Last time I talked to her, I tricked her pretty bad.” Shawn tried to sound calm, like he was just hoping for points of clarification in an otherwise solid plan. Trying hide his rising panic.

It was supposed to happen. There was supposed to be some sort of revelation or a strategy that would at least provide some kind of guideline that would assure success without getting massacred...or worse.

Griffix just shrugged in response to the growing possibility that death at Gaggle's hands was near certain.

"Maybe...maybe try it during the day, when she sleeps?" He asked, the intonation of his voice drawn out into a question.

That was it. That was all the advice or strategy that was offered.

"We're just...in a bit of a spot lad. A bit of a spot indeed."

"C'mon, there's got to be, like, a magic spell or a sleeping potion, or an enchanted dagger or something, right? Isn't that what the Order of Sybil does?" Cracks were starting to show Shawn's calm facade.

"I'mma tryin' ta' keep it a simple as possible lad. A young member of the Order like you might not be wantin' ta' get as involved in these sorts of things, ya see?"

"Now donna-be thinkin' that the Order don't have those things, because as you've probably guessed and seen: it does. But I've got ta' be as honest as I can to ya' now that ya' find yourself in deep with us. You and I both know at this point that ya' aren't the most devilish type. Far from it. Its not like your bitin' at the bit ta' go out and do evil things for the Order or the Circus."

"No shame in hidin' it. That's how I felt too the first fifty years of me own existence in this outfit. The point I'm tryin' ta' make lad, and one you've probably already figured out, is that there ain't no help that doesn't come with a price or an unwanted side affect. And usually that side affect is bad. And the price is often doin' somethin' bad or havin' somethin' bad done. Wish it were some other way, but suppose that's what it is ta' be cursed."

As soon as the word came out it seemed to resonate in that small room.

'Cursed.'

Giffix unbuttoned his child-sized suit jacket and extended one side outward, his arm now showing the inside of the coat like a salesman selling stolen watches in New York City. There were different sized pockets stitched into the inside of Griffix's coat. The heads of small glass bottles poked out. Some were made of green glass, others tinted with a pinkish-hue.

"Malinda made these for me. For these sort of jobs. Each one does somethin' different. This one, well...it'll make ya' invisible for a short while." Griffix said, touching the pink glass at the end where the cork was stuffed into the small bottle.

"This one will change the person who drinks it into a rat." Griffix said, though Shawn couldn't tell which bottle he was pointing at.

"This one shrinks someone." he touched a blue-tinted bottle with dark liquid inside.

"This one. Well, there's a nasty spider in there. One bite will paralyze a person." Griffix said, pointing to a transparent bottle, the base of which was still tucked into his coat pocket.

"Don't ask what the side affects are lad." Griffix sighed. "'Cause I don't have a clue with me own noggin' what would happen if ya' used any of these. The Fortune Teller is really a witch. A dead witch. A skeleton witch. She borrows from somewhere in the Underworld the ingredients n' magic that makes these things. Who know what'er aim is and what those spirits'll do ta' anyone that takes of their potions."

Shawn scratched his head, already trying to think of ways to weasel out of the terrible side effects. "So is the curse for the person who opens the bottles, the person who drinks the potion, or what?"

"No." Griffix said, shaking his head.

"The curse is you."

"You're cursed. That's what it means ta' get involved in the Circus, lad. It was a surprise ta' me 'til I thought about it, I did."

"I let the Circus in. Little by little. By the bad tings I did. 'Tis how it found me."

"How did it find you?"

"Gaggles tried to kill me. And she killed Mr. Sellick." It was amazing, but everything he'd been through since then had dulled the terror he'd felt about that night. He wondered how he'd react if the same thing happened again.

"No." Griffix said in dismissal of Shawn's answer. He clearly didn't agree and the way he shook his head indicated that he felt Shawn had missed the point of the question.

"No, no, no." He reiterated.

"'Twas the first time the Circus came into ya' world. But it ain't what brought the Circus ta' ya' doorstep, lad. The Underworld is attracted ta' what isn't right in the world. And most of all, what ain't right with kids. We need kids ta' open in our current form as a Circus show."

"So ya' must'ev done something. And more than likely somethin' over and over again ta' bring the Circus forth into the life ya' call home."

"What that is, I cannot say. Only ya' own self knows it ya' do. I'm sure if ya' think 'bout it, an answer will come ta' mind. Gaggles comin' into ya' world is only part of the story, but it ain't the beginnin' of the book."

Shawn felt increasingly nervous at this comment. Was Griffix saying all of this, all of the Circus in his life was the result of something he did? "Are you saying it's something I did that brought Gaggles to me?"

"Ya' entered into it lad." Griffix nodded. "Ya' did somethin'. Maybe without knowin' what ya' did. But ya' did it enough to bring it ta' the attention of the Circus, ya' did. And once ya' got it's attention, with the Circus lookin' ta' open...."

"Well...I'm sure it was like a hungry dog lookin' for a bone. And you yourself...kinda' wavin' the bone around sayin' 'Here I am.'"

"It's like this lade: The Circus don't just pop out and visit no one for no reason. Sure, it might go after those near a person in a spot. But usually, we got our targets n' such. There's might one of ya' who brings it upon ta' others by being' near. The question ya' got ta' ask yourself is?"

"What bad things ya' done over n' over again might have attracted us?"

Shawn did ask himself the question, and on some level, he knew the answer; lying. He had lied over and over and over again; to his parents, to his friends, to the people he worked with. But he didn't want to confront it...and maybe he didn't have to. "But now that its happened, right, there's nothing I can do to undo it?"

In the moments before he asked the question, Shawn stood there in contemplation as Griffix bit down on the edge of the corn-cob pipe, fixing him with a curious stare.
When Shawn asked about the future and if anything could be done about it, Griffix shook off the question with a wave of his hand.

"Bah!" He dismissed. "There might be lad. I've seen enough to be surprised in my hundred n' fifty-so years with the Circus, so I wouldn't be one ta' close a door on what 'tis possible. But now ain't the time ta' discuss 'neer think 'bout such 'tings."

He leaned forward to emphasize his point.

"The soul contest lad. I may look small, but I ain't a kid in my mind no more. I may talk funny ta' ya'. But I ain't all dance n' sunshine."

"I mean it when I say that we've got ta' stay focused. Stay focused on the task at hand."

"The Soul Contest is real lad. It's real enough ta' send ya' to slavery under the Clown troupe. Or worse, ta' the depths of the Proprietor's well. So let's stay focused on that. That'll be enough I reckon' ta' get us through many a night until we both have time ta' dither on other 'tings." 

Shawn tried to shake off the gloomy thoughts that were beginning to wear on him and focus on the task in front of him. Griffix was right, he needed to focus. "So...the curse you were talking about, for using the potions. It's already on me? So it won't make a difference if I use them?"

The conversation began to take on the tone of an elderly grandfather talking to a grandson. Griffix, in a patient, calm and strangely caring voice, answering Shawn's questions about this 'new' life and state of being. Explaining one by one the reasons the world had changed.

"Ya' part of the Order now, ya' are son. That means, ya' part of the Circus. There ain't no other way ta' 'tink about it. 'N everyone who finds themselves part 'o the Circus...well...that person is just as damned as the rest of us."

He waited for that to sink in before adding. "But ya' knew that already, didn't ya'? If ya' search yourself long n' hard...I think ya' find that ya' knew that when ya' made the choice ta' join the Order, ya' did."

Shawn sighed. "I think it was before that. When I made that deal with Cherrywinks to save my life." Maybe he was just tired of lying, or maybe he was just so desperate for a sympathetic ear that a little bit of kindness from Griffix made him open up.

"Ahhhhh, yes. Yes, yes, yes. That'll be it lad. That'll be it." Then he frowned.

"Since that moment, ya' been traded around. Bouncin' here. Back n' forth n' such. It's a tough spot. 'Tis always a tough spot when ya' find yourself willfully blind. Either ya' didn't have the energy, nor the spirit ta' confront the demon."

"I'm not talkin' about Cherrywinks or Malinda or even me for that matter lad. I'm talkin' about yourself."

"In the old times, the Kings of Old would see the threats to their Kingdoms, they would build walls to keep the snakes out. So ya' might say that the snakes were kept out by the city walls. But guess what? Over time, then they found out lad, they found out that there were snakes in the City: criminals, traitors and thieves. So they created forces to root out the snakes inside the city, lad."

"Oh my! Ya' know what? Ya' can keep the snakes out of the City lad. And ya' can find the snakes n' root them out among the city-folk too."

"But then they found out that there are snakes in each of us lad. We all have snakes inside of us. Most us don't want to see our own snakes."

"Most of us don't want ta' know what we're really capable of."

Shawn considered the truth of that, and really couldn't think of any reason Griffix was wrong. "I wish I didn't..."

"Wishn' somethin' n' doin' a 'ting are two different 'tings lad. I wish I had enough strength ta' make sure I stayed at home instead of goin' ta' the road that fateful night when I was disappeared."

Shawn sighed, sounding less sad or afraid and more...resigned. Like he already knew about the uselessness of regret. "Can I see the spider bottle?"

Griffix took the transparent bottle out from the inside of his coat and handed it over to Shawn. The spider inside seemed to be frozen in a permanent stasis.



"It only comes 'into bein' when ya' open the top." He explained. "Ya' also have to think somethin' really, really bad. Think 'bout somethin' violent for it to wake up once ya' opened it." He further explained. "But then it'll get ta' bitten.'"

Suddenly, and without warning, Griffix drew a knife. The knife was one perfect piece of steel, the sharp cutting edge morphing into the smooth handle in a way that reminded Shawn of the dorsal fin on the sharks he'd seen at the zoo.

Griffix took a step towards Shawn.

Shawn doesn't flinch or step away from Griffix. If he wanted to hurt him, he'd had every opportunity before now. "Will the spider bite the opener? Is it a regular spider, or is it smart, like a person?"

As Shawn had expected, Griffix had something else in mind. He flipped the knife over, offering the handle to Shawn.

"Here. Take this." He said, pushing the of the knife towards Shawn, the blade glinting from the moonlight. "The spider is a kind of beast that'll take a bite now n' then of whatever it is that's supposed'ta' be bitten. But if ya' don't think of somethin'  really, really bad nor violent enough...it might take a bite outta ya'."

"That's why I'm given ya' the knife. The spider is fine if it works. But even then, ya' have ta' cut the nose off of Gaggles. Cut that nose right off and send her back ta' the grave until the next round the Circus opens."

"What a terrible, terrible curse we've taken on." He opined, reflecting on the nature of Gaggle, and perhaps himself too for that matter.

Shawn held the knife with two fingers, like it was a dead mouse. The thought of using it almost terrified him more than actually confronting Gaggles did. "What if...I can trick Gaggles into opening the bottle? Will the spider bite her?"

"Sure." Griffix said. "But ya' still have ta' think of somethin' violent and terrible for it to know who ta' bite. The worse off 'tis, the less likely that the spider will go on n' bite ya' instead. So think o' somethin' just awful. The whole time. Otherwise....Gaggles'll cut your throat like a chicken on a farm."

"But, even if ya' can get the spider ta' bite Gaggles. Well, then lad, ya' still need to cut. Cut that nose off, as if ya' were Cherrywinks himself. The Circus hasn't been around too long yet lad, so hopefully the nose'll come off without it bein' too attached ta' whatever kid she's possesin'."

"Ya' did know that didn't ya? That Cherrywinks kills'em, and then he takes one of his special noses and puts'em on the dead kid. Bringin' 'em back ta' life as one of 'is own."

Shawn tried to consider what sort of things he'd have to think about. He'd done similar (though way less violent) exercises as part of acting school, but that wasn't under quite this much pressure. Griffix's further explanations just raised more questions, and Shawn was being far more active about asking them, almost as if he was hoping to learn some heretofore unknown weakness that save him from having to do any of this. "So all the clowns used to be dead kids? What happens to the nose once it gets taken off? Or if someone alive puts one on?"

Griffix shook his head in dismay, the shaggy crop of hair on his head moving back and forth.

"'Tis a terrible 'ting lad. A terrible 'ting."

"Cherrywinks cuts off children's noses. He cuts 'em right off n' then he puts one of them noses that the Master Maker created. Ya' see it? Ya' see it lad, don't ya?"

"That means each Clown ya' see is really just a kid. A dead kid ta' be sure lad, but a kid all the same underneath."

"If a nose like that gets takin' off, then the evil of the Clown goes away until the Circus opens again, which is basically 'til the proprietor decides he needs souls. Sometimes that could be as long as 50 years or more lad."

"Trust me lad. Yo donna-wanna put one of them Clown noses on. I seen back in 1894, Cherrywinks' nose somehow ended up in an atique store. Mind ya', a poor kid was playin' around and put it on.....that boy became Cherrywinks 'himself 'til the time when the Circus closed a year-plus later. Puttin' on a Clown nose is a certain way ta' become part o' the troupe. And an even more certain way ta' get your soul stolen'"

"Time was, when I first joined the Order, oh, about a hundred-plus years ago, Cherrywinks didn't take as kindly ta' this work the way he does now. People'd spot 'em lookn' sad at times. I meself caught 'em once: walkin' around all gloomy and such before the day would come when he'd get ta' cuttin' ta' bring the members of the Clown troupe back. Funny thing happened though: the more I been 'wit the Circus, the less n' less I see that side of Cherrywinks. I 'tink bein' forced ta' do that or maybe doin' it for so long changes a soul. Ya'd be surprised what ya' can get used ta' over time lad. Ya' do somethin' long enough, it don't seem bad so much after o' while."

"Some might say it ain't Cherrywinks' fault, because he's cursed. I me-self am cursed. I've got ta' eat too lad." Griffix patted his stomach. "I'm gettin' hungry. I can feel it. And I'm gonna need your help with it, soon-as this work with Gaggles is done. I'm gonna need your help feedin' me, so I can stay under control."

"But that's for later." Griffix added.

Shawn understood what Griffix was saying, but he wasn't sure he liked it. "So it's the proprietor that makes sure all the noses come back? Can the noses be damaged?"

"'Tis in Cherrywink's best interest ta' keep track o' the noses. So it ain't exactly the proprietor that hold onto 'em. The Proprietor start's wakin' folk up n' from there, they get started: He always starts with Cherrywinks. Don't know why. They say the Proprietor used to be a Clown himself. I don't know."

"After than, others wake up: say the Master Maker o' Malinda, ya' might say. Then the others, they wake each other up just by movin' around down there. 'Tis hard to keep 'em asleep when there's a potential for soul rock to be smoked. 'Tis a good way to forget your pain."

"But there's all sorts o' Shannanigans. Sometimes the heads of the crews go out of their way to put themselves in a position ta' get more souls. They might sabotage one another. Cherrywinks might wake up  and then try ta' stop Malinda from wakin'. Or She might wake the Master Maker because she needs somethin' only ta' stab him in the back later."

"Shiftin' alliances."

"So, the noses. They usually stay in the Clown troupe. And yes they can get damaged, maybe even destroyed. More than that though, sometimes....

...sometimes they get lost and the Circus'll open by accident."

"In 1923 in the town o' Kittleson near Wyoming there was an old General store. Someone must've misplaced one of the noses. Or maybe it was stolen. Or maybe there was some infightin' n'-between the Acrobats, the Clowns n' the Freaks. Either way, it ended up, sort of like an antique in n' antique store. A poor kid put that nose on......

"He turned into Cherrywinks n' the whole of the cycle lad, it started up right then n' there that very summer."

"But if the Circus wakes up by accident...doesn't that use a lot of, umm, like magic and soul power? If the Proprietor needs to use that to start the Circus up, then doesn't waking it up at the wrong time hurt the Circus?" Shawn tried to reconcile these facts with other things he'd learned previously. "And what happens to the people who turn into the clowns when the Circus is done?"

"1923 was a terrible year for us lad. The Circus opened up without the Freaks and without the Carnies. That meant there were less patrons, less souls ta' collect. N' worse off that that mind ya', that year's soul contest was really 'bout decidn' who could be the leader and feed their own performers. The Acrobats were stealin' from the Clowns. The Clowns stole from us. Lot's of fightin'." Griffix seemed to confirm what Shawn had thought about it being a bad thing for the Circus to open up.

"Even though the Master Maker won the contest, he might've well been the King of the starved. In the end, there weren't enough souls ta' give ta' the Proprietor. Or to lower down into that well as it 'were. So he came up from that well...." Griffix shuddered, his face suddenly growing worried and the color draining from his face.

"He ate them..." He said, voice soft and face despondent, as if he wasn't talking to Shawn, his gaze somewhere lost in the distance of that memory.

"Moran the Mad, Fennius the Tightwalker....all of the Acrobats. They were the ones closest ta' the well when he came out. A terrible 'ting. It was a rampage. A massacre. A lot of others 'let him in' just by lookin' at 'em. Burned their faces right off, 'n worse. Most ran. Most hid out in the tents 'n the rides."

"We donna-have Acrobats any more."

Griffix shook his head.

"When the Circus is done, those poor souls are used up. The Clown that took over that poor soul keeps the soul. That's what happens ta' those who turn into Clowns, lad. Because it really ain't a clown they're turnin' into. At least not underneath. It's a corpse-rider. It'll come n' snatch the soul right-outta the kid and take the body for a while. Then when it's used up..." Griffix slapped his hands together, a gesture as if he was cleaning filth or dirt off from his palms.

"That's that."

Shawn was doing some mental math, mind racing. This was the first time he'd heard of any sort of weakness from the Circus. "What happened after 1923? It was still a Circus back then, right? Has there been successful ones since then?"

Shawn watched as Griffix stuffed a bit of brown chaggar into his corncob pipe, thick thumb pressing downward into the end where the hole was. "Oh, sure lad. To be sure." Griffix said, smiling.

"1954 'twas the last time the Circus came. In a little town called Eastport, Maine. The proprietor was hungry for souls that year. So he woke up. And let me tell ya' lad, that ever since I've been at the Circus, its always been a Circus."

"Now, I'd been lyin' ta' ya' if I hadn't heard rumors that before it became the 'Circus' as it appears now, if it weren't something else. I've heard that before 'twas a Circus, the Proprietor himself was worshipped. He'd have followers somewhere in places like France or out East in Europe. And these followers would worship him. And they's try to get 'em ta' come out from the 'beyond.' Crowley told me once that they used to pray to him and they'd snatch kids n' feed 'em to him."

"Ya' know Crowley's from the 'Old Time' ya' do?"

"He mentioned it once. He said that's why the Circus is so raggedy, because it's getting old." Shawn didn't want to think too hard about the Proprietor...that near miss at the well still haunted him.

"Did he say that now?" Griffix raised an eyebrow. "Well I wouldn't say that the Circus is all too raggedy. I'm not sure that I agree with that lad. I think we look far better than we did in 1923, n' you can take that ta' the bank, ya' can."

Griffix lit the pipe and smoke came out from the end, filling the room with a musky and acrid smell.

"Now listen lad. Our first set of business is for you to go ahead and cut Gaggles' nose off." He took a drag on the pipe. Then he blew out a plume of purple smoke.

"I me-self. We'll, I've got ta' plan ta' pay Mr. Pibbles a visit. When ya' find yourself done with Gaggles, come back here with the nose. Do it quick lad. Don't wait on it."

"If she don't kill ya' that is."

"If all goes well, we'll see how the Clown Troupe does when its down by two Clowns. Mind-ya', I'd say that'll make 'em think twice before targetin' a member of the Order as they did ta' ya'. I'd bet my bottom dollar it'll be hard for them ta' make a final push for the Soul Contest as well." Griffix said confidently.

Shawn shuffled in place, reluctant to be on his way. "What're the odds Gaggles is asleep right now?"

"Oh, I'd say 'tis a small chance. But a chance still. Even if she ain't asleep lad, ya' probably can find away ta' do what ya' need ta' do. I seen ya' doin' all your actin' n' such. I'm pretty sure you'll find a way ta' fool'er. She ain't stupid. But she ain't super smart. Remember: underneath all those tears n' murderous rage...there's a little kid's body. Well know, maybe not little, but a kid your size ta' be sure. So think of it less as goin' against a big person like your Dad or Mum and more like choppin' a kid's nose off who's your own size." Griffix said, helpfully.

That metaphor did not, in fact, help Shawn out with this, but trapped and seeing no choice, he took out his rabbit's paw and started concentrating.

OOC: Shawn Joins Thread

Shawn: A Job to Get Done....