Shawn clutched the Rabbit's foot in his right hand.

Something about doing that seemed to make his heart beat faster. It was that way every time the possibility of traveling to the Circus came around. This wasn't necessarily fear. That would be too simple to place such a complicated feeling in one category. It was more like the Rabbit's foot reached deep with in him, causing an almost involuntary physical reaction that went deep into his soul and travels somewhere far, far away. The way a shadow can cast itself long and far depending on the light.

In his left hand, Shawn hand his hand place on his pillow. All he had to do was remove it. Remove the pillow and the ticket that Griffix said would get rid of Feddler would be waiting there. It was part of Shawn's prize for helping out the Order. One ticket to go see the Tattooed Lady.

And she would ensure that Feddler would stop.

But did Shawn want to go see the Tattooed Lady? Did he really want to go the Circus? Was Feddler really that much of a problem for him? After all, he hadn't seen the imp in weeks, maybe months.

Shawn's left hand rested on the pillow as he tried to make up his mind.

Shawn had been hemming and hawing about what to do, but tonight, he'd finally come to his decision. While Feddler had seemingly disappeared, the imp had a way of showing up at the worst times, and now Shawn had a lot to risk. And in theory, with the Order in charge, this was the safest it'd ever be to travel to the Circus... He rummaged around for his prize...

Shawn picked up the pillow...

Beneath it was a yellowed, frayed ticket. Its corners were cut out in circular patterns. In the center, large, block letters read:

PIT OF CURIOSITIES

COME ONE
COME ALL

ADMIT ONE


Shawn clutched the ticket, and as he did, he felts somewhat dizzy....

OOC: Shawn Rolls Composure + Resolve

OOC: 00:43, Today: Shawn Cramer failed (no successes) using 5d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s with rolls of 2,5,5,7,3. Composure + Resolve.

Something was different and Shawn could feel it. Things started to get very, very dark. His knees started to buckle, his arms had pins and needles in them. He had a vague sense before he passed out that he was going to travel to the Circus. It was the way the Rabbit's foot felt in his other hand. But the experience differed from usual journeys there. For some reason this felt....tainted.

---

....Acrid smoke filled the air. Shawn lifted his head up from the dirt to see that familiar red sky which seemed to characterize the Circus. There was a plume of smoke in the air, thick and black as coal. Shawn's eyes traced the billowing smoke to the Ferris wheel in the distance. It was on fire. Kids with faces that were smudged with grease sat atop swaying ladders. Some had buckets of water. Others were contending with a wild hose, directing its jet of water at the aggressive fire.

Carnies from Sideshow Alley Shawn's mind seemed to think.

Shawn looked directly in front of him. He was in some kind of alley. A short tent with a peaked top, orange and red canvass was in front of him.

TATTOOS AND PIERCINGS A sign in garish scrawl read. It was next to the tent entrance, which had a large puddle of mud in front of it.

Shawn dazedly shook his head as he tried to clear it - the ticket was much more unpleasant than the rabbit's foot. He squinted at the fire on the ferris wheel, judging if it looked likely to spread to where he was before heading into the tattoo tent.

The panic at the top of the Ferris wheel seemed distant and unlikely to spread. Still, the foul smell of acrid smoke seemed to be everywhere, all at once. Shawn lumbered forward and pulled back the tent.

A waft of hot, stuffy air came out that smelled like ammonia and some kind of sterilizing chemical, mixed with acrylic paint. Inside the tent walls were pictures in dark black and gray on old yellowed paper. They looked like examples of tattoos that might be chose by clients, Shawn imagined.

There was a small chair in the middle of the narrow tent which seemed like the kind of old dentist chair. Wires and tubes stuck out of the side. But instead being attached to dental equipment, they led to a series of different, black needles.




"Come on in Darling. I really have been waiting a long time for you." The Tattooed Lady, who was in the corner of the room washing her hands in a large, wooden buck said, without glancing over to look at Shawn.

Shawn looked curiously around the tent, never having seen a tattoo place before. “Umm, Griffix gave me this ticket the other day?” He held it out in front of him, like it was a totem that could ward off danger.

"mmmmmmmmm." The super tall and somehow imposing figure said. She walked with a strange sense of ghostly grace, gliding across the floor as if she was floating but also somehow shaking her hips as she approached Shawn.

"I see." She said, accepting the ticket.

She moved towards a purple cloth with a reddish hue that was covering something underneath. Removing the cloth, Shawn caught movement and the sound of leathery flapping as if some kind of bird or bat was underneath.

Feddler.

The imp was in a wide glass jar, the walls of its prison stained yellow with age. Its fingernails scratched on the interior of the glass, impish face pressed against it, needle-like teeth exposed.

"Malinda had him captured." The Tattooed Lady explained.

“Oh, thank you so much!” Shawn was a little relieved; he was worried that getting rid of Feddler might involve some sort of tattoo.

"Oh dear." The Tattooed Lady said, demurring. "They didn't tell you about the choice, did they?"

Shawn’s heart sank as he realized that he’d been foolish to think there wouldn’t be a catch somewhere in here. “I thought it was a free ticket?”

"It is. You just have to decide if you want the tattoo or not, my dear." She said. And then she went on to explain exactly what that meant

She had her finger on some kind of strange lever. Inside the glass receptacle, Shawn could see that there was some kind of propeller underneath Feddler.

"If you want the Tattoo, than we need to make some ink!"


"Otherwise, his spirit will linger. But don't worry, he's really harmless!"

OOC: Shawn decides

1) Kill Feddler for Tattoo ink: Shawn gets rid of Feddler, making him into tattoo ink. Shawn chooses and arm where the Tattooed Lady will make a tattoo. The discussion proceeds to what the design of the tattoo is. Shawn immediately makes a degeneration roll at the end of the conversation, as the memory Feddler's screams mount.

2) Find another way: Shawn decides against the Tattoo. The Tattooed Lady kills Feddler, but his spirit lives on within Shawn. Feddler will be unable to take any actions against Shawn, but the Storyteller will add italicized dialogue representing Feddler's voice "within" Shawn's head. This effect is permanent.

“Can’t you just, you know, send him back to where he came from?” Shawn knew Feddler was bad, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to kill him.

"Well, we could just let him go I suppose my dear. If that is what you want, that is what we can do. I'm not here to judge my dear. I'm simply here to take ticket and help you with your problem."

"I used to be in the Freak Show tent. This was a long, long time ago my dear. So it is hardly my job to say what is and isn't a good plan. I'm a real Bearcat, even though I'm in the Circus. So my suggestion would be to end this Imp. I mean, do you really want him hanging around?" She asked.

"I don't really know how to send him back dear. That would be the work of...whatever game that is...what do you call it?"

Shawn just wanted to avoid making a decision, and he found himself trying to weasel out of it. “Can I talk to Feddler? If you don’t do the tattoo, can I trade my ticket in for a different one?”

The Tattooed Lady raised and eyebrow. "If you must my dear, if you must." She repeated in a tone that was a mix between confusion and disgust with Shawn's lack of a choice.

"But don't take too long talking to the Thing. Besides, if you get too attached you never know what can happen. You don't want to be a dewdopper or a lollygagger."

"Turn your ticket in?" The Tattooed Lady now looked shocked. "Maybe if these were different times. But things aren't going so well. Someone or something tried to push Malinda into the well while she dropping the first bits of soul rock for the Proprietor. Also, someone sabotaged the Ferris Wheel ride. And the Bearded Lady is missing."

"I'm afraid we won't be doing any return tickets just now with all of this going on."

"Now go on and talk to Feddler." She said with a dismissive, elongated hand.

Shawn nods seriously at the Tattooed Lady and turns on the charm. “That’s too bad - you did really amazing work on Bradford!”

Then he gingerly approached the glass. “Umm, hi Feddler.”

The sight of the Imp brought back memories of Feddler claiming that he was going to ruin Shawn's life. That he was a representative of some greater Demon and had been charged with doing everything in his impish power to present himself as an obstacle to Shawn.

Now he just looked feeble and weak. A groveling beggar trapped in an artificial prison, scratching at the glass walls.

"I...." Feddler's high voice chirped. "Pleeeeeease. Pleeeease. Pleeeeeazzzzz." He weedled through the muffled glass.

"Don't kill me!"

"Stop that!" The Tattoed Lady shouted. "Stop that begging! I must say, I've already told you, you filthy thing. I HATE when people complain."
She complained, directing her comments to Feddler.

"If you're going to be in my tent, you can't complain. And that means anything: pain from Tattoos, prices. Ink. Anything. So watch it!"

Shawn tried to look stern but understanding. “You did try to ruin my life. And anyway, aren’t you from wherever demons are from? Wouldn’t killing you just send you back there?”

Feddler's wings flapped, but the crystal prison was too small and they got stuck along the walls before they could be fully extended. He looked up at Shawn helplessly and shook his head.

"No!" He cried in a high-pitched, yet muffled voice. "I am duty-bound to finish the mission that my Dark Lord has given me. If they kill me, I'll lose the form for which my Dark Lord cast me out of shadows.  I can only return once his bidding has been completed."


"You must let me out!" He shouted in an urgent shriek. "I do not want to wish to suffer his wrath. You cannot know the pain he would bring me. I must be released from this prison, so that I may go about with the task I have been given."

"I said STOP!" The Tattooed Lady yelled.

Shawn looked over and saw that her head was down. She was covering her ears like someone who had just heard nails on a chalkboard. All over her skin, the tattooed markings and designs were standing out tight against her skin, like someone who was too skinny or perhaps had lost some circulation.

“Are you all right, miss?” Shawn looked at the Tattooed Lady with some concern. She hadn’t asked anyone to stop before...

She appeared annoyed and angry. But she didn't say anything back to Shawn. In a brief moment of silence, Shawn watched as the Tattooed Lady let her hands drop to her sides slowly, sinewy muscles working on the side of her neck and head.

She looked up with a cautious glance.



"I don't like complaints." She explained.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:44, Sat 17 Feb 2018.

Behind Shawn, Feddler was scratching at the glass, trying to get his attention again.

"Heeeelllpp...get me out of here. You have to." His voice strained.

“But if I do that, you’ll go back to ruining my life, won’t you?” Shawn wasn’t sure what to do here; the imp’s pathetic scrabbling mad it seem pitiful, but he also remembered all the times it had made things worse for him.

"I...won't." Feddler wheedled. For the first time, Shawn say what looked like a sense of remorse or shame in Feddler's eyes.

"Get me out! Please!"

Maybe it was just the small imp's strange facial expression under the yellow-stained glass.

"I....I..."

“Would you swear? You said your boss wants you to do your job no matter what...” Trust was the main problem for Shawn; he didn’t want to hurt Feddler, not really. He turned to the Tattooed Lady. “Is there any way to make him keep his promises?”

SMASH!



Shawn had only turned halfway towards the Tattooed Lady when the glass jar exploded.

His eyes instictively closed as small chips of glass splinters showered across the front of his shirt, stinging his face. He turned his face as he felt warm liquid lap over his hair, face and hands, drenching his entire torso.

As he opened his eyes, he had to close them quickly to avoid Feddler's blood from dripping from his forehead into his eyes. The glass jar was a spikey fragment on top of a table slick with red blood.

The front of Shawn's body was splattered with the gout of hot blood that shot out of the jar. The front of Shawn's face had bits of brains plastered hard against his skin.  He instinctively spit out small skull fragments--Feddler's--as he took one step backwards.

Turning his head, Shawn saw the Tattooed Lady holding the electric needle in her left hand. It was thrumming and vibrating as the needle retracted and pushed forth, spewing a mixture of dark green ink, shards of glass and Feddler's blood all over the floor, the long, black cord trailing behind it and leading to the chair.



"I told him to stop." She said, in a matter of fact voice, as if that was enough of an explanation for killing the imp. The thrumming noise of the needle continued to fill the silence after she spoke.

Shawn just gaped at the woman, in opened-mouthed shock. She'd just...killed the imp!

The Tattooed Lady put the needle down and then it stopped moving.

"Well. That's that I suppose." She said.

There was a long pause.

"You were taking a long time." She added, suddenly somehow shifting the blame onto Shawn. Or at least that was how it sounded.

Shawn was immediately acutely aware that he was by himself, and that the Tattooed Lady was apparently quite murderous. "Thank you so much - I'm really sorry if I was taking too long." Hopefully, he could placate her and avoid any further issues.

"These aren't very easy times my dear child." The Tattoed Lady responded. There was blood spattered all up the sides of her hand and forearm, like she had placed her hand inside bloody bath water.

"It's not OK that you took to long. It's not OK that you took too long getting here. And it's not OK that you took too long in making your decision about the Imp. These are not OK times."

She sat down on a nearby stool. There were three mirrors behind her, each decorated with a frame of bright light bulbs, the kind that Shawn was used to seeing during makeup and wardrobe on the movie sets he frequented. With that bloody, delicate hand, and her long elegant fingers, the Tattoed Lady produced a cigarette complete with a filter. Lighting the cigarette with a demur flourish and a practiced grace, she exhaled three smoke rings.

"The Fortune Teller's ascent was supposed to bring some order to the Order. And too the Circus for that matter."

The first smoke ring transmogrified into the shape of the Fortune Teller's Tent. Shawn could see movement within that ring of smoke. Whispy tendrils that became figures in the tent, battle scenes acted out between the Clown Troup and the Order. Perhaps they were of the recent conflict, though they could have happened long ago, many many times.

Shawn was only vaguely aware of the politics involved here, but he felt like he needed to reassure the Tattooed Lady. "I'm sure the Order knows what it's doing. The clowns were bad for the Circus."

"What's happening now is all the more concerning my dear, because no one knows what or who is causing these problems." She said, taking a deep drag from the cigarette. The second smoke ring had formed into the shape of a Ferris Wheel, whispy tendrils burning up into the roof of the tent.

Both Shawn and the Tattooed Lady were watching the smoke rings dance in the stagnant air above their heads. The burning Ferris Wheel of smoke dissappeared into the rafters.  As it did, both Shawn and the woman noticed something stirring within Feddler's body. The air near his dead, blood corpse seemed to stir in the air above his head.

But the smoke was black and green.

It different distinctly from the smoke that the Tattooed Lady had exalted in both color and smell. There was something rancid about the smell as the green, black whisps traveled upwards into the air. They gently traversed the space above Shawn's head and then slowly descended downward, funneling into a single, straight line of smoke directly toward Shawn's mouth.

OOC: Shawn Rolls Resolve + Occult with the following results (Willpower can be used)

0-2 Successes: The smoke enters Shawn's nostrils and mouth, pushing inward into his chest. EFFECT: Feddler is inside Shawn permanently. Occassionally, Feddler will retain the ability to act against Shawn's interests. Apply 3-4 result as well. Shawn gains condition: Evil Spirit Within.

3-4 Successes: Feddler is inside of Shawn and his voice will make itself known through italicized red text. It is an inner voice that cannot be heard by others. Shawn gains condition: Voice in my head.

5+ Successes: Shawn coughs and exhales the Feddler smoke before it can get inside of him.

OOC: 17:32, Today: Shawn Cramer rolled 1 success using 7d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s with rolls of 1,1,6,4,8,4,1. Resolve + Occult + WP.

Shawn's mouth was suddenly forced open by the trendrils of smoke as they pried his jaw open, taking the form of hands. He could feel the cold, unfamiliar push of foreign air somehow pushing past his throat and deep into his lungs. This was followed by an involuntary sucking sound, a few gurgles, and a spasm in Shawn's neck and face.

OOC: Shawn gains conditions:

Evil Spirit Within

Voice in My Head

Shawn tries desperately to cough or somehow choke the smoke out of his mouth. What was going on!?

"Great! Just great!" The Tattooed Lady said in anger. "Now look what happened. This is all your fault. If you had just made a simple decision and didn't talk to the imp, then none of this would have happened. Now this is a real mess we have on our hands now. I'm not sure how we can fix this. Or even if it can be fixed."

"Darling, you've put yourself in quite a pickle. That imp is inside you now. And there's no telling what he'll do or what he'll want, or whether he'll ever come out."

Shawn kept on choking until all of the air was forced into him. Moments later, there was pressure in the back of his head, the stirring of something unfamiliar and foreign.

"Where am I?" Feddler's voice seemed to say. It was speaking inside of Shawn's head.

Shawn gaped at the Tattoed Lady, surprise overcoming fear for a brief moment. “Feddler’s inside me?”

"Well, it's your fault." The Tattooed Lady said in an accusing manner, not accepting any responsibility for what had happened, even though Shawn could sense a hit of regret in her voice.

"You took too long. If you had not done that, then that would never have happened. Now this is your problem, not mine. I did what I could for you. And you chose this. So, I guess that's what you get." She justified.

"So....." She hesitated. Then she shrugged her shoulders.   "So I guess, darling, that there might not be anything that can be done for you my dear. It's not entirely certain that this is something that I can do anything else for." She said with doubt.

"Here." She said, extending her hand with the elongated cigarette, a gesture which made it as if Shawn was being offered a smoke, perhaps as some kind of compensation for what had happened. Still, she admitted no guilt and offered no apology, though the gesture was clear enough.

Shawn looked at her hand blankly, even as he tried to figure a way out of this. "Sorry, I'm too young to smoke..." Maybe Griffix would no what to do? Or he still had the Numbers Game, right? Hadn't someone told him it worked better if he'd done something bad? Certainly, the recent events in his life qualified.

Shawn heard the Tattooed Lady's words, that was clear enough. But equally present was the newer, foreign sensations pressing in the back of his mind. It was like his head was suddenly thrust into a cloud, pressure building up near the back of his head, a dull, light pain emanating from the area at the base of his skull. And from this area, came a whisper....

"What?"

Shawn heard Feddler to respond to the question if he was inside of Shawn's head. As Feddler's voice chimed, it lacked the malevolence that Shawn had grown accustomed to heading from the Imp. It was stripped down somehow, confused, and uncertain.

"Feddler, is that you?" Shawn spoke out loud, not sure how he could communicate with the voice, or even if he could. This was too overwhelming.

"Where am I?" The imp's voice inside Shawn's head didn't sound so menacing now. It wasn't nearly as threatening either.

"Get me out of the jar! I swear, we can find a way. I still have to haunt you, as my Dark Lord has commanded me to, but we can find a way. Can't we. Perhaps I can delay ruining your life for a few months, or even years. Just get me out of this jar." The imp pleaded, apparently not aware of what had happened.

"You're not inside the jar, Feddler, you're inside me." Shawn was aware he was talking to himself like a crazy person, but this was the Circus, so he didn't exactly stand out in that regard. "I'm trying to figure out how to get you out of here..."

The Tattooed Lady let out a chuckle and then puffed in a drag of smoke, crossing her legs. Long legs, Shawn could see. They were covered with brown, black and green ink. Tattoos of spiderwebs, sharp objects and other unidentifiable figures.

"What do you want? What do you want!!?" Feddler cried out, his smarmy voice reaching a high pitch and hurting the back of Shawn's head.

"How do I get out?" his voice said, slowing down to a slow, wondrous stop,as if he was just realizing the gravity of the situation and what that meant.
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:08, Tue 27 Feb 2018.

Shawn searched his brain for ideas. This was a bad situation. "Umm, Miss...do you have any tattoos that'd free Feddler? I think we'd both rather be separate people again."

The Tattooed Lady replied  "I knew that you would ask something like that." She said.

"But I'm sorry. I really am." She said, not sounding sorry at all. "I just wish that we had more time. I wish that I wasn't here in this Circus. And I wish you had made better uses of your own wish."

"But you know...."

"My wishes and hopes and five cents might get me a ride of the Ferris Wheel." Her eyes gave  a quick glance through a small sliver of light passing through a hole in the tent.

"...if it wasn't burning." 

Shawn tried not to panic, to reassure himself (and Feddler) that there was a way out. "Okay, we'll figure this out. I've got magical people who could know how to fix this...and I've got the Numbers Game back home - that might work!"

"Ha." The Tattooed Lady laughed a mirthless chuckle.  "Careful with that numbers game honey." knew that you would ask something like that."

"Get back home. Let's get out of here!" The new, and less menacing Feddler yelled, voice ringing in Shawn's ears, but for all the noise, somehow less malevolent.

"One sec, Feddler." This internal/external conversation was giving Shawn a headache to keep straight. "Why are you warning me about the Numbers Game?"

"Because you got that game from Crowley." The Tattooed Lady laughed, before taking another puff and blowing out the smoke, craning her neck upward to spare Shawn a face full of it.  "Careful with that Numbers Game. Everyone knows Crowley got it from fishing in the Proprietor's Well. He went out one night with a makeshift fishing rod and lowered it down in there and after poking around for a bit, he pulled it up. No one knows what it does. Then Crowley made up some other story about how he got it. But Zampolio the Clown and Hogwash saw it. "

"Thanks for the warning, I'll be really careful with it." Certainly, not being careful with the Numbers Game was what got Shawn Feddler in the first place. But he certainly couldn't just keep going with an imp in his head either. He looked down at the ticket in his hand. "So, uh, should I keep the ticket? Or is it all done with now?"

"It's done." The Tattooed Lady finished. "Watch you're back when you step out of the tent. Things are dangerous around here lately."

"My dear, I have a feeling that there's no telling what's going to happen. If I were you, I'd try to stay away from this place until all this is sorted out. Maybe you can get your mentor Griffix to cut you a break and leave you out of the Fortune Teller's crackdown on this place until it's less chaotic."

Shawn didn't need any encouragement to stay away from the Circus, but he still nodded politely. "Thanks for the advice, miss. I hope things get better for you." Then he headed outside and pulled out his rabbit's foot, eager to be gone.

OOC: End thread