Inside Shawn felt for the shards. There was a slight 'pang' of pain as one poked him in the finger a bit, like touching a needle. But they were there.

"You were not a twin before. And now you are not a twin again." Michael reasoned, starting down at the corpse and then at Shawn.

Before Shawn could reply, he felt a welling feeling in his stomach. It rose up from his guts and ran up his spine. It was warm and refreshing.

It was Feddler.

He could feel that Feddler very much wanted to stop Bradford somehow. And he wanted to know if Shawn wanted that too. Not just to protect Bobby. But to to protect Ralph.

Shawn took a deep breath, and then started gathering up the crystal shards from the other him's pockets. Just in case, he made sure to put them in a different pocket than the one he had his own shards in - he didn't know if they'd react to one another, but he wanted to avoid finding out until he got home safe. While he worked, he glanced up at Michael. "We shouldn't tell anyone about this. I'm not supposed to have a twin." He didn't want Michael to get in trouble, but just as importantly, Michael could help against Bradford.

He felt the feelings welling up from Feddler, and was a little surprised that the imp seemed to care about Bobby and Ralph as much as he did. He tried to send back his own feelings - his desire to protect Bobby and Ralph, but also the sense that Shawn would probably need Feddler's help with all this. He might have to do some bad things to stop Bradford, but if it was to protect Bobby and Ralph, were they really that bad?

Shawn noticed that his own attention between what he was saying and how Michael was responding was suddenly, and almost involuntary - divided.

On the one hand, Shawn was completely aware of what he was saying and feeling with regards to 'not telling anyone' and also the genuine thoughts of not wanting to get Michael in trouble.

Almost simultaneously, it was Feddler who was charting out potential pathways and implications that could be derived from the current situation. The idea that the body had been found, that Michael was covered in blood. That there were 'two' Shawns and that there should only be one.

"I didn't do it." Michael said, breaking the thoughts in Shawn's head. "We can't tell anyone." Michael repeated stoically. "We can't tell anyone, and we can't just leave it here. That is why I started to take all of the teeth out and ruin the face." He explained.

"Last time I ruined the face, but not the teeth. That's how they found it." he explained.

"But that wasn't my fault either." He clarified in a monotone voice like he was speaking about the weather instead of getting rid of a grisly murder.

Shawn could tell where the train of thought Feddler was charting - or maybe it was his own thoughts that the imp was simply following along with. Michael would get in trouble if he was caught like this, and even beyond their strange friendship, Shawn knew that if his current plan fell through, it could very well come down to killing Bradford. And Michael was the only person he knew who had experience at doing something like that. He had to keep Michael free and on his side.

"You've got a lot of blood on you, Michael. That'll be how they figure it out." Fortunately, since Shawn was still around, no one would be actively looking for his body in the woods. "You'll have to get cleaned up before you go home."
This message was last edited by the player at 01:13, Mon 11 Mar 2019.

Michael nodded.

Next moment he bent down into the darkness next to the corpse. There was a soft squelching sound and then a slight, crispy snapping sound.

Michael stood up. "That was the last tooth." He said in a dry, almost bored voice.

He said nothing about Shawn's possible plan, but the movement alone meant that he somewhat understood and was expecting Shawn to elaborate.

Once Shawn was done with the shards, he equally methodically stripped the corpse of its copies of the Liar's Goblet and rabbit's foot. "Where were you gonig to clean up before I came here? And what were you going to do with the teeth?" He looked over at Michael, trying to see how much blood he had gotten on him.

It was a lot of blood. A lot. Michael's hands and wrists. His arms and legs. Even his face had streaks of blood on them. Even Shawn had specks of it on him, he noticed now. It was hard to grab anything from the corpse without sullying himself.

Michael didn't answer Shawn. He just shrugged, his face a slab of emotionless, his arms slack and indifferent.

Shawn tried to brush the specks of blood on him off in the dirt. "Do you have a change of clothes in your shed?" He remembered Michael showing him his shed, where he had dead animals. Another, more risky thought occurred to him, but he wasn't sure how else to keep Michael from getting caught. "Michael, how good are you at trying that taste bad and eating it anyway?"

Michael didn't answer for a second. Then he uttered a single word

"What?" as if he didn't understand Shawn's question. They stood there in the darkness for a second.

....."What?" Feddler asked, beginning to think about what Shawn might be saying. "Are you planning to not deal with Bradford?" Feddler asked Shawn, within Shawn's own mind. "To not destroy him immediately?" Feddler asked again, this time with horror.

Shawn shook his head for a moment to clear it of Feddler's voice. "Uh, nevermind about that eating thing. But I need to borrow your shed. It's important for stopping Bradford." He tried to transmit the basics of his plan to Feddler to stop his horror. I have a plan to use the crystal bits to stop Bradford, but I can't just do it out here. I need to go somewhere no one's going to interrupt me.

"My shed." Michael repeated. He took a couple of steps and then stopped, turned back around to face Shawn.

"So we are going to leave the other you here." He stated. It sounded like a statement, but it probably was a question.

"Do you think Bradford will kill Bobby?" Feddler asked, as if his curiosity was peaked.

Shawn nodded and follows after Michael. "We should have time before anyone finds...him. It'd take too long to move the body right now."

I warned Bobby to keep away from Bradford - Ralph too. ...and I won't let Bradford hurt him. He tried to project confidence in a plan that was mostly just guessing at this point.

"OK." Michael said, moving forward without another word. He shuffled through the dim-lit forest, feet crunching leaves on the forest floor.

"What if Bradford is killing Bobby right now?" Feddler asked, pushing out horrific possibilities into Shawn's mind, the Imp's own thoughts growing both anxious and excited by the prospect of action against Bradford. Of protecting Bobby and Ralph. Of tying up all of the loose ends.

In truth, Feddler's anxieties were also Shawn's, and he tried to suppress them by staying rational about it. It's still way too early for the party to have ended - and there's no way he'd strike with that many people around. Besides, Bradford's covered in blood and would need to get changed, otherwise people would see it and call the police.

The air was warm, but cooler than it had been at the beginning of the summer as Shawn walked through the shrouded depths of the forest. The wound around the old sump on the corner of block, the boys catching sight of a winding trail that was only a dozen or so yards before breaking into the expanse of a backyard. The sounds of cars on the highways were faint but could now be heard.

As Shawn drew closer he saw it was Michael's backyard. The music from Shawn's own house across the street was still playing, lending credence to the idea that the party was still moving forward.

Michael said nothing, approaching the shed door in his backyard and then stopping and staring at it, back facing Shawn.

"Are you sure that Bobby and Ralph are even at the Party?" Feddler's question prodded at Shawn's consciousness.

"He's killed us before." Feddler stated "And if he doesn't know that there are two of us, he will soon."

The cake only came out a few minutes ago, there's no way Bobby and Ralph would have left. And if this works, he won't be able to kill us. Shawn tried to think confidently as they approached the shed. "I'm going to need a little bit of privacy in there, so don't come in, even if you hear weird noises. While you wait, you should find a hose to wash the blood off of you." Assuming Michael does so, he tries to head inside of the shed.

Michael stood next to the shed door as Shawn opened it, all dark hollows from the shadows on his face. But he didn't say anything at all. He just stood there with his arms down by his sides and with an indifferent expression on his face like Shawn had been reading stereo instructions instead of asking him to use his shed for some unknown purpose in the night.

The shed door closed with slight creaking sound, its hinges protesting since last being disturbed. The smell inside the shed was one of gasoline and cut grass. There was also a grimy, oily smell emanating from somewhere in the dark shed.

And that was it. There was no light with the door shut. It was almost complete darkness.

"Do not worry about the light." Feddler advised. "But if your plan is to put together the shards, than surely you will need to see or else you might cut yourself."

Shawn knew Feddler had a point, so he opened the door a crack so he could look for a flashlight. It was a shed, there was bound to be one.

It was right there in front of Shawn on a nearby shelf. But the light also illuminated other things: Hammers, screwdrivers, gardening tools and....


Bones.

Many bones. They were on the shelves. They hung from the rafters of the ceiling of the shed from long ropes like some kind of butcher's shop.

"Your friend Michael has been busy." Feddler said. And Shawn wasn't so sure that Feddler didn't approve in some way. He could feel the Imp smile at all of those ropes, but it wasn't clear if it was a smile that indicated Michael was more than Feddler thought, or whether Feddler would have liked to see Michael's dark work for himself.

Shawn pushed aside any worries about the bones for now; it was Michael's business, and it was probably just animals, right? And it meant that Michael was probably more dangerous than Bradford, which was good, right? Besides, right now he had work to do. He set the flashlight down on a shelf so it was pointing at the floor of the shed, and then he cleared a space of clutter so he had a flat, illuminated spot to work.

The other 'him' had wanted to do this, Shawn remembered from the vision he'd had of his death, but he had assumed he needed Mr. Clayton there with him. Maybe it would have helped, maybe not, but Shawn didn't have the luxury of that anymore. His plan was simple, if foolish. Mr. Clayton had stolen Bobby and Ralph from him by hijacking his wish with the crystal ball, but now Shawn was going to use it to steal Mr. Clayton.

Bradford had said what Mr. Clayton had done could only be done by a dummy, but Shawn was hoping that wasn't quite true. After all, he'd been inside his own wish, seen the wishing pyramid, even freed it from the chains that Mr. Clayton had tried to bind it with. More importantly, when he'd done that, he'd absorbed some of Mr. Clayton's occult knowledge. Maybe even knowledge he could use to copy what the dummy had done.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small pouch he'd received the soul rock in. There wouldn't be enough for another wish, but maybe there was a little dust still remaining, a bit of power he could use. Carefully, he reached into his pockets and started filling the pouch with fragments of the crystal ball, both his and the ones he'd taken from his body. The crystal ball was broken, but even if it was broken now, it had been whole in the past. And if the crystal ball could be used to see the future or the past, it was already a little outside of its time.

He cut his finger a little on one of the shards, but he didn't try to stop it from bleeding just yet. Instead, he took out his spare Liar's Goblet and placed it in the centre of the illuminated space. He was going to be lying to the whole world, telling it that it had always been him that had Mr. Clayton, not Bradford. He dripped a few drops of his own blood into the goblet before he finished filling the pouch and sealed it off with the drawstrings. After a moment's thought, he set it down in front of the goblet, close enough to touch.

Next, he pulled out his deck of cards, and started laying them out around the goblet and the pouch filled with crystal. He laid them out in an imitation of his card trick, ace of spades facing up between the two items. He knew the cards weren't magic by themselves, but the trick itself was connected to the Krinner, and there was power in that.

He took out his spare rabbit's foot, and gently placed it on top of the ace of spades. He didn't want to go to the Circus, but Little Stone had wanted to use its essence to power his own spell. Maybe he could use it in the same way.

Shawn stepped back a little to look at his little jury-rigged collection of artifacts, but he knew there was one more ingredient needed. It was the way the Circus had found him, the thing that Griffix had craved, and the weapon he'd used to kill Gaggles. All of his darkest, evilest thoughts, the things that made him a bad kid. He knew Mr. Clayton was filled with Bradford's, and if Shawn wanted to steal the dummy he'd have to provide ones of his own.

Of course, he didn't think them right now; he needed to think. Instead, he reasoned through what he was about to do. He would drink from the goblet, and then speak to the crystal, telling it that he was the one who was Mr. Clayton's ventriloquist. Then, with the power of the rabbit's foot behind it, the crystal would change his wish to make that true. All he had to do from there was think all of his nastiest, evilest thoughts and push them into Mr. Clayton. It was...frankly, it was a not a terribly well-considered plan. But with the scraps of knowledge he'd stolen from Mr. Clayton in the wishing realm, he hoped he could at least tell if it was something that could work.

It all came together in a massive jumble. Shards of crystal glinted among the strands of hair that the Rabbit's foot left. It all sat in the Liar's Goblet. Or as much of it that could fit there did. Here and there cards jutted out from underneath the sickly display amid chalky pieces of soul rock. Several shards and stray hairs lay around the cup.

"It could work. But it is not without risk. Every time you touch the other side there is a risk." Feddler acknowledged.

It looked like some morbid, deathly drink that a monster would eat. And it was made all the more sinister with the dark thoughts that Shawn was thinking. The thoughts he had acted on. The lies he had told.

Shawn thought long and hard. It had to work, didn't it? Even though he truly didn't know what he was doing, he was guided by instinct.

Sick instinct.

The kind that was forged in the depths of the Underworld among the dead. In the High Places near the Summit where Little Stone had set up his tent. And in the sewers fishing around for a dead kid's body with Crowley Noggenfogger.

That had to count for something, didn't it.

So Shawn concentrated and tried to will his way towards an occultist solution to the Bradford and Mr. Clayton problem.

OOC: Shawn Rolls Crafts + Occult with the following results. Each success in the roll will change the story accordingly. (willpower may be used)

0 Successes: Cursed! Nothing good happens. 1) Bradford is still intent on killing Shawn. 2) Bradford is still Mr. Clatyon's Ventriloquist. 3) Bobby and Ralph still live with their 'new' family. 4) Shawn loses all magical items, even the ones that weren't used. 5) Shawn adds condition 'accursed sickness' to his character sheet. Shawn is afflicted by a sudden sickness that gives him -1 Strength permanently.

1 Success: Kaboom! The air shimmers around crafted artifacts and then the whole thing explodes. 1) Bradford is still intent on killing Shawn. 2) Bradford is still Mr. Clatyon's Ventriloquist. 3) Bobby and Ralph still live with their 'new' family. 4) Shawn loses all magical items, even the ones that weren't used.

2 Successes: An offering of fire! After a few moments, the entire construction catches fire. 1) Bradford is still intent on killing Shawn. 2) Bradford is still Mr. Clatyon's Ventriloquist. 3) Bobby and Ralph still live with their 'new' family.

3 Successes: A worthy sacrifice.... Dark smoke wafts out of the Liar's Goblet.
1) Bradford is still intent on killing Shawn. 2) Bradford is still Mr. Clatyon's Ventriloquist.

4 Successes: Dark Ritual. Shawn smells something burning, but there is nothing to be seen. An ominous feeling is felt in Shawn's body as Mr. Clayton switches sides. 1) Bradford is still intent on killing Shawn.

5 Successes: It Worked Perfectly!. All of the above 1-5 have changed. A new scene begins with Shawn and Mr. Clayton.

6+ Successes: Be Careful what you wish for All of the above 1-5 have changed. A new scene begins with Shawn and Mr. Clayton. Shawn's dark ritual attracts the attention of an evil supernatural entity.

"Wait!" Feddler insisted. "Do not do anything." And Shawn could feel the Imp sifting through bits and fragments of the Imp's own memory. Flashes and images bubbled up from the depths of Shawn's mind: a knife slicing through a hand. A scream that bellowed. A naked woman on a pyre, fire all around. They came to the surface of Shawn's consciousness like objects released from chains in the great deep of the ocean, floating up to show a glimpse of what Feddler had once been a part of and then fading into blurry obscurity once again. Image after image surfaced only to be replaced by one more horrible than the next.

Then it all stopped as Feddler spoke.

"This is no sacrifice." The Imp weedled in a straining, high pitched voice. "This is no sacrifice for the kind of Blood Magic you are looking to perform. Perhaps if you had more soul rock, it would not matter. But here, you give nothing that you do not already have. There is no Blood. And most importantly, there is no malice in your action. An unworthy sacrifice. There is no attempt at true evil. The Proprietor and any other is unlikely to smile upon this. Previous wishes were built upon the stolen souls of the dead. The murdered."

"Your efforts are likely in vain. There is always a chance they may work, but it is unlikely. Might I suggest something more?"


OOC: Shawn may do one or more of any of the following to increase his dice pool in the previous roll:

Shawn slices himself down the arm (-2 lethal damage) pouring blood onto the structure. This action may only be used once. +1 to dice pool.

Shawn uses all of the items that he has, destroying all of them and adding them to the structure: +2 to dice pool

Shawn cuts one of his own fingers off, adding it to the structure: +3 to dice pool Flaw gained: dice pool, -1 on all physical-related feats involving that hand permanently. Derangement gained as well.

Shawn kills Michael in a brutal, violent act inside the shed, offering him up as a sacrifice: +7 to dice pool This will result in an eventual Morality roll.

Shawn grabs one of the crystal shards and slices down his arm, letting the blood spill over the occult construction. He keeps pouring all of his negativity into the ritual. But...nothing else seemed to be happening. His frustration grew, and while he tried to put that into the ritual too, it didn’t seem to make a difference. It’s not working...nothing’s happening- what do I do, Feddler? He looked around the shed in desperation, was there some way to use the animals that died here?


OOC: 06:45, Today: Shawn Cramer rolled 2 successes using 8d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s with rolls of 2,2,4,7,9,4,9,1.  Crafts + Occult + 1 + WP.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:54, Thu 21 Mar 2019.

After a few moments, the entire construction caught fire. It smoldered in a spontaneous combustion--instantaneously and without a bright spark or any other material means that would have caused a normal fire by Shawn's experience.

The fire pushed up first white smoke and then a deep, billowing black--and choking smoke--filling the small shed with acrid air that smelled of rotten wood and gasoline.

"Run!" Feddler yelled. "Before the fire burns us all!"

The shed wasn't the only thing that was burning. Shawn's forearm burned with pain as blood ran out like a wine skin that had been slashed.

Yet he knew in his mind, with stunning clarity that broke through the smoke, that Bradford was still intent on killing Shawn and that Bradford was still Mr. Clatyon's Ventriloquist. Shawn even knew that Bobby and Ralph still lived with their 'new' family.

Shawn retreated to the shed's doorway, holding his arm tightly, but as he passed through the threshold, he felt frustration well up in him. He paused just outside the shed as he understood how little the ritual had accomplished, and he turned around on his heel to look into the fire. Feddler had spoken of the Proprietor, and of others who smiled upon true evil. It was them who hadn't been impressed by his ritual...it was their fault it hadn't worked.

Maybe it was the fear in his heart, the pain from his arm, or all the negative thoughts he'd tried to channel, but he found himself talking to the fire, the one sign that he'd attracted some sort of attention, even if it hadn't been enough to get what he wanted. "That's it? You didn't do anything? Is it because I'm not evil enough, I didn't do enough bad things? Haven't you been watching? I killed all those kids at the safehouse, and Roger in Minnesota, and don't forget about all those souls I stole and gave to you. I did all that while Bradford was sitting around listening to tapes..." His voice was low, barely even audible over the hiss of the fire and smoke.

"Bradford's a moron, he's just running around and stabbing people, he doesn't know what he's doing. He's like Cherrywinks and Gaggles and all them, and they all lost and failed. And even if he wins, he's gonna end up in jail or he's gonna kill himself and it's all over, no more evil. He's not worse than me - last time we met he needed Mr. Clayton's help to do anything, and that wasn't even the real me. I would do so much badder things than him if I had Mr. Clayton..." Shawn was babbling at this point - it was like the side of him that festered every time he smiled and went along with something he hated, every time he pretended to like someone who was annoying, every time life threw another obstacle in his way and he just had to take it - it was like Shawn's filters had gone away and it was just releasing pure id into the fire.

"If I had Mr. Clayton, I'd show everyone - I'd be the free one, and everyone, Bradford, Mom, Dad, Ralph, Eddy, they'd be like Bobby, they'd be like I am now, saying other people's words, feeling other people's feelings, they'd all be the empty-headed dummies, not me - not us. And anyone I don't like, anyone I didn't care about, I could give them to you." It was all blurring together - he wasn't sure if this was a lie to make what had answered his ritual think he was eviller than he was and changed its mind, or if there was some deep-seated evil to Shawn, a fundamental brokenness. Or if there was even a difference anymore. All his desperate ideas, all his half-formed plans, they were all falling apart. All that was left was a begging childish entitlement; a kid who wanted his toy and a grown-up who'd refused. "Gimme Mr. Clayton. I don't care about Bobby and Ralph's new house or if Bradford still wants to kill me. Just give me the dummy. Gimme..."