Shawn shuffled awkwardly in place, realising he had to make a big decision without understanding the ultimate consequences. As always, he looked for another way out, some way to get what he wanted without giving up anything he needed. "Is there any way to do it without the rabbit's foot? A substitute or something?"

Little Stone considered. He ran his tongue again along the front of his teeth. His left paw came up to scratch at the left ear. Then he stretched out his back before resuming the sitting position.

"Yes." he hopped off the couch, landing once again gracefully. Then he walked over to what looked like a large, black witches cauldron. It was a huge thing that sat, perhaps unmoved for a long time. The cauldron was black with two huge handles on each side. Little Stone hopped over to once side, landing on a handling, robe settling around him. "This is not as accurate as destroying the Rabbit's foot. Who knows what we might see."

Shawn followed the cat over to the cauldron with interest. "That'd be amazing! You're really good at this!" His praise was effusive and mostly genuine, but also calculated to flatter and make a good impression. He knew there were still negotiations ahead.

"Really?" Little Stone asked with genuine interest.

OOC: Shawn Rolls Wits + Empathy + Striking Looks + Specialization (?) With the following results:

0 Successes: Flattery will get you nowhere

1-4 Successes: Shawn gets a +3 bonus to any dice rolls trying to negotiate this scene

5+ Successes: Shawn gets a +5 bonus to any dice rolls trying to negotiate this scene

Shawn nodded cheerfully, the picture of sincerity.


OOC: 11:28, 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 2,4,9,4,8.  Wits + Empathy + Striking Looks.

"I do try my best. But I tend only to appear when someone or something crosses the Krinner that has a choice to make. This could be a spirit, or rarely, someone from the waking world." Little Stone explained.

"Hand me that jar of feathers, would you?" The cauldron sat on top of a small pile of chopped wood and kindling. Shawn looked to his right and saw a glass jar filled with gray plumage on a Berber table. Next to it sat a tea pot, probably made of tin.

Shawn went over to the jar of feathers and carefully picked them up, making sure not to even brush up against the teapot, lest he knock it over or worse. "That sounds really graceful when you think about it. You're only here when you need to be, so there's no wasted effort, right?" He passed the jar up to the cat. "So what kind of choice was Eddy, or, uh, Rufus here to make?"

Little Stone managed to pluck two feathers from the jar, paw stretching until Shawn could see the formation of opposable thumbs. Then he screwed the jar lid back on tight and handed it back to Shawn. "Please put that back." he said, referring to the jar. Then he gently placed the feathers into the cauldron.

"Oh no. I didn't find Rufus at the Krinner" Little Stone corrected. "Rufus was wandering out past the Krinner. That's where I found him. So he wasn't present to make any choices.

Little Stone's one paw reached towards a large spoon, tall enough to stick out of the Cauldron. It was about Shawn's height. He gently stirred the feathers in, continuing to explain. "I spotted him from where we are now on top of the mountain. And I heard his barks and wails of pain. Means and ends are of little moment here. Idle speculations.  All in the fullness of time." Little Stone pondered. "The question you should be asking is who's choice brought me here in the first place. Who's choice put me in a position to see Rufus from on top of the Krinner from which we stand. The answer is simple:"

"Bradford's choice."

Shawn took the jar back and returned it to its former resting place. "What sort of choice is Bradford supposed to make?" He was standing on his toes a little, trying to see what was inside the cauldron - was it just the feathers in there, or was there other stuff - when a thought occurred to him. "If you're talking to me, does that mean you've already spoken with Bradford?"

"Yes. Of course. I have already spoken with Bradford.

And I must provide a 'Correction.' A decision was already made by Bradford. Bradford chose to remain with his anger. To remain with Mr. Clayton. He is consumed by it. It governs his actions. His thoughts. His desires. He wants revenge more than candy. Mr. Clayton is this anger. And Bradford, or most of him, has been lost to this creature of anger. It was never me. I do not make decisions. I simply provide the warning of the roads that lay ahead. It is only those who come to the Krinner that have to make big decisions. Those are the ones to decide. Bradford was unable to break free from his anger. He is still in there somewhere. But I fear it is too late for anything to be salvaged. Now that he has made his decision, he is unable to be convinced by any means." he said

Shawn was a little suspicious of the cat's denial about not having convinced Bradford. It was very specific, and it wasn't like Shawn had accused him of doing it. But he didn't show his suspicion and simply nodded seriously at the explanation. "So...if you're talking to me know, it means I have a big choice too? And one of those choices is to try and convince Bradford to let go of Mr. Clayton?"

"Oh I'm afraid not." The cat replied, and now it was mixing a small vial of liquid into the cauldron which it had produced from a nearby shelf. The green liquid oozed out into the pot. Then Little Stone capped it and placed it back onto the shelf.

"Crows feet please." He ordered, thrusting a paw in the direction of a different shelf, indicating that he wanted Shawn to pass him half a dozen dried and very dead bird feet that were bound together with a brown string.

He commenced stirring the pot and elaborated on his dismissal of Shawn's statement. "I'm afraid Mr. Clayton is not conceivably able to be convinced. And therefore Bradford is not able to be convinced. What man would not be protected from outside influence if he could?" The cat asked rhetorically.

"Mr. Clayton has taken extra steps of his own to maintain this state." Little Stone explained, clearly implying some kind of magic. "The Puppet is the Puppeteer. It is a sort of magic, but that is too broad and supernatural of a word to use. It is more of a trade or hobby. It is called 'Greater Ventriloquism.'  And with it and the result of Bradford's decision, I'm afraid convincing is all but out of the question."

"I do not know the specifics of your choice. But I do know that it has something to do with Bradford and Mr. Clayton and what you plan on doing as a result of Bradford's decision."

"I knew it!" Shawn had always suspected that Mr. Clayton was in charge now, but this was confirmation. Of course, it didn't tell him what he could do about that if it was true. He went to the bird feet and gingerly started passing them to the cat. "What choice did Bradford make?"

"Bradford chose to let Mr. Clayton lead him and to let Mr. Clayton direct him. Bradford is motivated by his hatred and rage." The cat replied.

"And Mr. Clayton led him into the cave where they both wait for you. Bradford, or Mr. Clayton, for in some sense they are one and the same....are waiting for you in the cave. They wait to enact their revenge against to. They seek vengeance. They want you to suffer like Bradford has suffered." Little Stone explained.

"And they want to enjoy it."

After a few seconds of silence, the only sound was the stirring of the pot. The liquid inside now beginning to bubble. "The brew is almost ready, quick, pass me the jar of soul rock powder." Little Stone pointed to a jar of soul rock. It sat on the edge of a shelf nearest to Shawn, instantly recognizable for its purple tone and color of the powder within.

Shawn picked up the jar, treating it almost like a bomb that'd go off if he was even a little careless with it. He handed it off to the cat and then stepped back from the pot, not wanting to be near when it was poured in. "That's not fair. I was here to rescue him from the dragon and everything..."

"None of it is fair." The cat agreed, a tone of somberness in its voice.

He pointed towards the first images appearing the bubbling cauldron. Blue mist shrouded the water. The mist parted and a low-resolution, blurry scene played out between the bubbles and soupy mix. The cat added the contents of the jar, chunks of soul rock calmed the stew, the images becoming clearer and clearer as the scene took focus.

Delilah was running through the egg briar patch, the sound of the Pink rabbit behind her. She ran and crouched and then turned around and was suddenly grabbed by the monster. After a short struggle, it looked like it was going to tear her apart.

Then Little Stone waved a hand a the mist and the water settled, the images fading away, sparing Shawn the image of Delilah's final moment before death.

"Was that fair? What happened to that little girl at the hands of the Pink Monstrosity?" Little Stone asked. It wasn't clear if the question was rhetorical or not.

"This girl who died...was she someone you knew? She is certainly from the world of the living." He added.

Shawn flinched and looked away even before the image cut from the moment of Delilah's death. He knew what was going to happen, and didn't want to add imagery of her genuine last moments to his nightmares. "She was a girl I knew. She hated me, but she didn't deserve to die. She'd still be alive if Bradford hadn't sent us here..."

"Wuuuf! Wuuf! Wuuf!" Eddy suddenly barked from the corner.

"Shhhhhh." The cat reproached Eddy. "The next images are coming. If you keep barking then we'll have to brew another cauldron. "You were born bad, and you have wandered bad past the Krinner. Who knows how you got here Rufus. But you have lived bad, and your mind has died bad, in all probability.”

"Now look!" He said motioning towards the bubbling stew as the mist parted again. This time, the clear image of Mr. Clayton could be seen in the water.

"He wasn't a bad kid..." Shawn said it softly, almost to himself, not wanting to distract anyone. But then he saw Mr. Clayton, and couldn't hide a visceral sense of fear, the one he felt in the pit of his stomach every time he saw the dummy. Even though they were in theory looking from a distance, he still felt a fear that Mr. Clayton might somehow see or hear him.

The image seemed to swirl in the bubbling water. Bradford was in a chair, his face a mold of stone. His glasses sat on the edge of his nose, slightly lopsided to the right. He was sitting fully erect, like a doll that someone had placed unnaturally in that position. He wasn't even blinking.

His right hand was in the puppet but Mr. Clayton moved with an alacrity and grace that seemed to defy Bradford's stiff demeanor. Shawn could hear a 'clanging' sound. It was the sound of Mr. Clayton hammering something. Shawn couldn't hear Mr. Clayton, but knew somehow, that the puppet was working on something.

"Both of us trying to find meaning in a meaningless world! Why be a disfigured outcast when you can get revenge? Why should I be wooden puppet when I can be a real boy, just like Pinocchio?" The puppet joked.

Shawn picked up right away that Bradford didn't seem to be doing anything, and wondered what that meant. If Mr. Clayton was Bradford's rage and frustration, seeing the rest of him just sitting there inactive was probably a bad thing. He leaned in towards the cauldron, trying to see what exactly Mr. Clayton was working on. He didn't like the sound of Mr. Clayton being a "real boy"...he'd always been afraid of Pinocchio.

Shawn could see that Mr. Clayton was trying to make some kind of adjustment to a magic eight-ball. "Let's see....a little bit of this....a little bit of that...."

"PRESTO!! Now we're inside of Shawn's wish! What do ya' think of that Bradford 'ol Buddy!?" Mr. Clayton asked.

Bradford sat stiff an unblinking as a puppet would. His legs were rigid. His eyes were open, his face emotionless.

"Now, let's see..." Mr. Clayton said. He should the eight-ball once or twice. Shawn couldn't see through the water what the triangle read in the eight-ball as it floated up to the top to press against the plastic and reveal an answer to a question. But he did hear Mr. Clayton say.

"Ha! There. We've changed some things for Bobby and Ralph. Now we can get them too."

Shawn looked on in horror, only barely staying away from the edge of the pot. "He went inside my wish? He can do that? Is the stuff I wished for still there?"

Little Stone:

"Shh..." the cat cautioned. "Just listen and watch, or the image of past deeds will fade like a dream does to the waker."