A red sky with overcast clouds greeted Shawn as he stumbled, falling from some height, or at least feeling like he was falling.  The world turned and with it - the blur of shapes, clown faces, spinning merry-go-rounds.

Coming to with a sense of dizziness, Shawn could see the Circus not far from where he stood, a cluster of spiraling tents and a maze of mismatched colors, the labrynth of gaming shows deep within Side Show Alley. Up upon the hill, it was Mr. Cherrywinks' tent.

Shawn stood on the hill looking at the Circus from some distance. The Ferris wheel was spinning slowly and Shawn got the sense that it appeared more active than it had the last time he was here.

Shawn squinted at the Circus, the pit in his stomach opening up even wider. He really didn't want to be here, with the Book in his arms and the face paint weighing down his pockets. He considered cheating, just hiding here on the outskirts for an hour before coming back and telling Bobby and Ralph he couldn't find anything. There was no one here to be brave for, after all. But he knew from the way Bobby had acted that without something to placate him, he'd probably want to send Shawn back, or even go back himself. He tried to force himself to move forward, but with the dread in his stomach and without an immediate threat, he kept hesitating.

As his legs trembled, he tried to remember what Ralph had said - there was someone here that could find his blanket, right? That'd be something tangible, and maybe after that he could convince Bobby it was too risky right?

Low-hanging red mist parted as if inviting Shawn to wade through it, creating a path that would lead him to the Circus.  But there was something else. A figure emerging: Slender and moving with the grace of refinement.  A woman.

At first just a shadow but as it came closer, Shawn could see that it took the shape of someone or something he hadn't seen before. It wasn't Gaggles. The woman made her way up the hill through the red mist, hips swaying back and forth, arms swinging front and back, wrists dangling.

Closer still, Shawn could see that the woman was indeed one of the Circus' 'creatures.' She was covered in tattoos.



"You...there.." She called out, voice filled with body, yet silky smooth like an actress on the silver screen of old.

Shawn gripped the Book tightly for reassurance - if this went bad, at least he could open it up and escape, right? But he didn't want to risk blowing his deal with the Circus just yet. So he answered back, hesitantly. "...Hello?"

"You need a tattoo, sweety?" The woman-like figure said. She emerged from the red mist, and Shawn could see that she was covered in tatoos. Every inch of her skin bore detailed sketches of figures in red, blue and orange ink. Her shoulders were covered in what looked like spider web tattoos.

"I've got more than a few tattoos to spare, Brooksy." She offered.

"No thank you." Shawn tried to keep his voice calm and polite, even as he prepared to flee.

Shawn saw the lady walk towards him and thought for a moment that she planned to attack. But instead, she just turned to the right, making her way a different direction as Shawn's grip on the book intensified.  The Book, seemingly unafriad, slapped at Shawn's face with its leathery tongue in gentle pats, giving the Shawn the impression that it was intentionally trying to be obnoxious.

The lady stopped and threw her head over her shoulder, looking at Shawn with a quizzical expression.

"You lost sweetheart? Anything I can help you with?" She asked, body still turned towards the direction of her destination, wherever that was.

"I-I'm fine. Just trying to remember where I need to go; I don't want to bother you." Oddly enough, now that he had an audience, Shawn found it easier to not seem so scared. Yes, he was equally terrified as before, perhaps moreso. But now he had an audience, so he could pretend much more easily.

"Alright dear." She said, not seeming to care too much about Shawn's fear. Not reveling in it, but also not trying to make him more afraid.

"If you're looking to pawn something sweetheart, first turn on the left. If you're looking to go to the Ferris wheel, head on straight, sweetheart. And if you're looking for games, Side Show Alley is straight ahead." she winked. And the, just like that she was off. Walking to wherever it was she was going.

Shawn stayed put until he was sure the tattooed woman was gone. The pawnshop sounded familiar- hadn't Ralph mentioned it once? Still feeling a lump of fear in his stomach, he set out, looking for the first turn on the left.

Shawn followed the directions, looking for the first turn on the left. Throwing a glance over his shoulder, the tattooed woman was gone. He passed a large group of ticket booths. They appeared to be empty, but the lights were on, as if the attendants were just out or perhaps someone was preparing to open shop soon. Then, at the cotton candy booth, Shawn turned left.

Immediately he saw a tent. It must have been the pawn shop. The light inside was a bright yellow. An it appeared that someone was inside. Two hands pressed from the inside of the tent, as if beckoning someone passerby to come inside.

Shawn approached the door hesitantly, looking inside it before walking into the tent.

Before Shawn could fully get his head in, a small, child-like head 'popped' out. Some sort of baby, or a creature that looked like a baby, skittered down the edge of the fabric from one flap of the tent, landing on the cold earth with both feet. It was wearing a diaper.

"Welcome to the pawn shop." it announced with a nasely voice. "You're not rude are you?"

Shawn hadn't even got a chance to see what was inside the tent.

Shawn took a step back in surprise and tried to muster a reply. "Umm...not intentionally. If I offended you, I apologize?"

The creature seemed to think about that for a second, scratching its head. A few flecks of dandriff and dead skin came off the top of its head and floated to the floor. It only stood about three feet tall.

"No...." it seemed to settle on a answer. "No, you're not rude."

"When all of your wishes are granted, many of your dreams will be destroyed. That's what I've learned. That's why I don't grant wishes at the pawn shop. I make trades. The most genius ideas are in the minds of children and lunatics.
I describe myself as somewhere in between."

"Oh, okay." The creature's words were confusing, but at least he didn't seem hostile. And now Shawn knew this was the man(?) he was looking for. "Can I make a trade here?"

"Step right up! Welcome to the pawn shop my boy, if you've got the goods, I've got the trade. The best investment you can make, is an investment in yourself...The more you learn, the more you'll earn."

"That's my thought. Because that's the way I think! I bet that you've got more to give than you're letting on. Do you want to come in and see my goods? I've been collecting things from the floor of the Circus over a number of years. And I have people curry things to me from the real world, to make trades."

If the creature was inviting Shawn in, he follows it into the tent. "I'm looking for a blanket, it would've been lost here <length of time> ago. I brought some money too..." He started to rummage around in his pockets for his savings.

Shawn stepped into the tent. It was brighter than he expected inside. There were plush, red drapes that adorned the walls, and a soft, shag carpet that seemed to clutch at his feet. Along the wall behind a counter, was a large rack of shelves containing jars and various wares and items.



"No! No!" The baby-child rejected Shawn's notion of money. "I don't deal in matters of currency or bills. They change too often with the times. Things come and go, especially countries and city-states. Take the probability of loss times the amount of possible loss from the probability of gain times the amount of possible gain. That is what we're trying to do when we make a deal here. It's imperfect, but that's what it's all about." He explained.

"I'm Crowley Noggenfogger, pleased to meet you. I like to offer a special price to friends of mine. What's you're name? Maybe we can be friends."

Remembering Crowley's apparently problem with rudeness, Shawn chose his next words carefully. "It's nice to meet you, Crowley Noggenfogger. My name is Shawn Cramer. If you don't want money, what sort of payment do you take?" He stopped checking his pockets and just absorbed the surroundings. There was so much stuff in here; he couldn't even begin to figure out what it all was.

"Most folks around these parts don't have much to trade other than soul rocks, things that they found in sideshow alley, or the odd, rare or strange item they were fortunate enough to get the Master Maker to create for them."

"For outsiders such as yourself, I usually deal in pieces of souls, things from the other world, or tasks I need to get done." He smiled, seemingly taken in by Shawns good manners. When he smiled, Shawn noticed that Crowley's baby-faced mouth had two rows of teeth: both on the upper and lower areas of his mouth, four in total. Each tooth looked like a fine needle: pointed, thin and sharp. They came out in direct, straight junctures, give Crowley's mouth the appearance of a gaping maw. The gesture wasn't meant to be offensive, just the way it was, for this baby creature. The smile did appear genuine.

"...pieces of souls?" Shawn hadn't thought to bring much with him, and he already had a number of tasks he was doing on others' behalf. He had a bad feeling about this, but pushed forward anyway. "So...would you happen to have a blanket?"

"Yes. Pieces of souls. You just tell me how much of your soul you want to pawn and I'll get the paper ready. Then we can get started and I'll get the Widget Trancer ready. If you're ready, I can start riding the bicycle to warm it up. It usually takes about five minutes. Don't worry though, once we get going it only takes about three minutes to suck a piece of your soul out through your ear, depending on the size."

"Blankets?" He asked surprised. "Come to think of it, there was a child's blanket I picked up a while back. All frayed at the edges. Someone must have dropped it off the Ferris Wheel. I usually go there after the Circus makes a pit stop. You see once the patrons come in, they never come out. They all get converted to soul rock, for the smoking. And some for the proprietor that Cherrywinks has to deliver to. Anyway, we didn't get any patrons yet at this stop because the Circus isn't open. Which is why it was so strange to find such a blanket. Someone inside the circus must have climbed up the Ferris Wheel and dropped it."

"What happens to a person who's missing part of their soul?" Shawn was feeling a little more positively disposed towards Ralph, but not so much he'd give up his soul for his blanket. "Can I see the blanket? It has to be a specific one."

Noggenfogger scratched his head some more, and more flakes of white dandruff came off his scalp. Shawn noticed that a rash, red and angry ran from one side of the baby's neck up to the top of his head where he was scratching.  Then, with the other hand he pulled an old frayed cord that was weaved with golden threads. Instantly, red curtains parted to reveal a glass showcase. In the center of the showcase was Ralph's blanket. His rubba-sucky. It was just like the young kid had described. Rainbow colored. Shawn could tell that Crowley knew that Shawn knew that it was exactly what he was looking for.

"Souls. Pieces of souls." He said outloud. "Well, if you only give a bit, say a small piece, you usually feel tired."(OOC: Permanent loss of 1 Willpower)

"A larger piece, say a quart of the essence, and you can grab something really good in the wares room." (OOC: Permanent loss of 1 Willpower, 1 Wits)

"If you give me half of a soul, then I'd give you something that would be so valuable, you'd never have to work again." (OOC: Permanent loss of 3 Willpower, 2 Wits).

"Of course, If you don't want to trade a piece of your sou, I could always use someone to go into the sewer and retrieve something for me."

"How much for the blanket?" Shawn tried to keep his expression and interest restrained. He remembered Mr. Sellick when he was asking for something from a producer - you couldn't look too desperate, and you had to look like you could walk away whenever you wanted. "What other stuff do you have? Is it all just stuff you've taken from people?"

"The blanket, costs a lot of soul." Crowley explained.  It was clear that he wanted Shawn to pay top dollar for the rubba sucky. "You can give me say, half your soul." Crowley said, giving Shawn a hopeful look.

The baby, pawnshop owner was starting a protracted negotiation, trying to get the most out of Shawn.

Shawn Rolls Manipulation + Subterfuge + Striking Looks (vs. Crowely contested) with the following results:

0 Successes: The cost is half of Shawn's soul

1-3 Successes: The cost is a good chunk of Shawn's soul

4+ Successes: Shawn gets Crowley down to a small piece of his soul

"All right, so you agree to a small piece of soul." Shawn, despite being an inexperienced negotiator, was good enough at hiding his true desires that he was able to haggle Crowley down. However, while the blanket was good, it didn't solve what Shawn thought of as his most pressing problem; preventing Bobby from trying to return in the future. Maybe he could push his luck, just a little bit. "Unless...you want to throw something else in? Mr. Crowley, is all this stuff here from visitors, or do you have anything, y'know, magic?"

OOC: 18:54, Today: Shawn Cramer rolled 4 successes using 12d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling on 9 or more ((4,5,2,1,4,4,8,1,10(+10,2),4,8,1)).

Not sure if Profession Training has kicked in or not for the 9-again, though looking at the roll numbers, it didn't matter either way.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:03, Sun 19 Feb 2017.

"You drive a hard bargain." Crowley said after having been haggled down to just a piece of Shawn's soul. "I think you'll find that this place has more than just the random item that I found on the street. In fact, many of these very items have been found throughout the history of the Circus. We're carney folk by nature. And being carnies, it's important that you know, that we know where to look on the ground. The ground is where the patrons drop all of their own goods."

Shawn looked around: There was an assortment of regular looking hats, wallets, pocket books, foreign dollar bills, sun glasses and walking canes. The standard fair of things that fall from roller coaster rides during fairs. But none of this seemed to answe Shawn's question, so he just waited until Crowley, who appeared interested in selling him anything, finished.

It was clear that Crowley had't showed him the real goods and it wasn't clear why he was holding back.  OOC: Shawn Rolls Wits + Subterfuge to gauge the situation

"If you're interested in magic, let's start with the basics...." Crowley said, pointing with one sharp nail at two items on a shelf.

OOC:

1) Soul Crack = Smoke it and Shawn gets to make any wish he wants (Subject to the Proprietors approval)

2) The Number Game = A small wooden box sits on the stack, it's just labeled 'The Number Game'

OOC:  22:21, Today: Shawn Cramer failed (no successes) using 5d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling on 9 or more with rolls of 2,2,5,6,2.  Wits + Subterfuge

Shawn looked at the two items - soul crack sounded a lot like the pieces of soul the other clowns had mentioned, but he had no idea what the Number Game. "What's the Number Game?"

He looked over the other items on the shelf, frowning a little as he didn't see anything that looked like what he wanted. Then again, he had no way of recognizing what he wanted. "I have a...a friend. His parents died and I'm worried he might try to come here and get hurt. Do you have something that'd stop him from wanting to come here?"

Crowely shifted uncomfortably once Shawn moved to the other items.  He waddled over like a baby with a full diaper.

"Those goods are for sale as well. But only for super-duper-fantastic-fabulotious clients. That means you have to do something for me so that I can trust you." He held up one hand to Shawn as if expecting some kind of protest. "Or if you've got something to Pawn. Something I might be interested in. Soul's only gonna get you so far in the Pawn shop." He finished.

Turning back to what was for sale, he picked up the number game box, placing the old, wooden board game on the counter.

"This is the Number Game." He announced with a slight smile. "You write a number down and then you swallow it. Then you see what you get. It's like cracker jacks, only you're the box! Interested in playing a trial run to see if you want to buy it?" His baby hands with long, sharp ends, thrummed a beat on the side of the box that sounded like pencils jabbing into wood, rhythmically.

Shawn wasn't sure why Crowley seemed uncomfortable, but a lot of this would depend on trust, right? He had to build trust with Crowley to get a good deal, and that would mean playing along a little, even if he wasn't sure what was going on. "If you promise I don't have to pay for this time..." He wrote down the number '10', since he was 10, and swallowed it.

"The first is free. If you like the game, then you can find something to trade for it. Maybe one more piece of your soul, or if you find something of value to me. And remember, if you ever need anything, this is more than just a place to buy and trade. This of course, is a Pawn shop. All good patrons with manners can Pawn something of value in exchange for quick, soul-rock cash." He explained in his nasely voice, all the while scratching at that angry, red rash.

"Now, let's get started. This is a fun game. An old game. This game came from an old Bedouin that Pawned it last century for soul-rock cash. He found a way to get inside the Circus after years of practicing Occult. Very few have made it hear without running across the Clowns, especially since the Circus lies dormant for long periods of time until someone finds the Cherrywinks' nose. Once that happens, we start opening for business as usual. This Occultist found a way to access the nether regions and called on wayward Djinns to help him map a path through his world to ours. When he got here, I was surprised, because as I said very few have been able to get here without making some kind of deal with the Circus, and he managed to do so when we were completely off the map."

Crowley chuckled as his fingers pried open the old wooden box. All the while, Shawn was chewing on the piece of paper, swallowing as the wet, tasteless matter made its way down his throat.

Inside the box.....Shawn saw numbers. Each and every person that Shawn had ever seen or met was a number. The numbers he saw, or more accurately impriminted on Shawn's mind, were...

OOC: Shawn Rolls Wits + Occult with the following results:

0 Successes: Something bad happens

1 Success: Something good/bad happens

2+ Successes: Something good happens.

OOC: 22:21, Today: Shawn Cramer rolled 1 success using 1d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s with rolls of 9.  Wits + Occult (Chance Die).

This is actually a failure, since it was a chance die.

...the numbers of demons. Demons that traversed the words between our own, from the innumerable manuscripts of old, ancient archaic and mostly forgotten knowledge. Shawn felt a surge in his stomach, and as he did, the small wooden box began to shake.  Crowley let go of it, smiling as he looked up at Shawn as if he could tell what was about to happen next.

"Feddilitch....suppletic, Grabber-Fitch!" Crowley announced, clapping his baby hands together, the words streaming out of his mouth in a strange, Occult-like gibberish.

"Oh, I can tell by your face, it's going to be a Ruination die!" he announced excitedly.

Shawn's stomach lurched with each shake of the wooden box. The box jumped in the air and Shawn felt a powerful thrust, bile clawing at the back of his throat. His head pushed forward as a violent spasm took his body. Vomit forced its way out, green and acidic. There was a loud clunk on the floor as something heavy and multi-sided hit the ground with a wet, heavy 'thlop'.  It was a heavy, stone die, spinning on the wooden floor under the base of one of the tables, near the frozen earth. It spun and spun spitting bits of vomit and bile everywhere in its radius, until it fell of the wooden edge and landed on the frozen earth...

OOC: Shawn Rolls 1d10 to determine which Demon the Ruination die lands on:

1-2) Anamalech: The die lands on the Anamalech Demon, which appears to bestow upon Shawn a new kind of fear: Shawn gains the following trigger: Phobia - Fear of Fire. When a person with the Phobia trigger encounters the target of her phobia, the player must make a successful Resolve + Composure roll to avoid activating the trigger. Success means the character has managed to avoid the trigger’s effect for the scene. Fail- ure means the trigger activates. While active, the chararacter  suffers a -5 penalty when performing any activity that is not directly related to removing herself from the presence of the phobia-target.

3-4) Bushyasta: The die lands on the Bushyasta Demon, which appears to bestow upon Shawn a new kind of compulsion: Shawn gains the following Compulsion: Compulsion with hair and eyebrows. Shawn incessantly plucks and pulls eyebrow hair and hair on head. When the Compulsion trigger is activated, the player rolls Resolve + Composure. If the roll fails, the character engages in a particular compulsive behavior for a scene.

5-6) Daeva: The die lands on the Daeva Demon, which appears to bestow upon Shawn an evil, impish follower named Feddler. Feddler appears at random times in random scenes (Secret St Roll). When he appears, he usually attempts to ruin Shawn's plans for the scene unless satisfied somehow.

7-8) Demogorgon: The die lands on the Demogorgon demon, which appears to bestow upon Shawn a head that sprouts from Shawn's shoulder. This head acts as a Shawn's inner monologue, a second voice that interjects itself into Shawn's mind. Occassionally, it takes a physical form, literally sprouting from Shawn's shoulder.

9-10) Ifrit: The die lands on the Ifrit Demon, which appears to bestow upon Shawn a curse: Shawn's Shadow becomes animated and evil. Every scene when the storyteller describes Shadows, Shawn must roll Resolve + Composure. A failure results in Shawn's Shadow becoming animated and alive. The Shadow almost always has cruel, murderous intentions, seeking to maim and injure PCs and Non-PCs in a given scene.

Retching and coughing, Shawn immediately regretted his decision to play the Number Game.

OOC: 14:04, Today: Shawn Cramer failed (no successes) using 1d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s ((6)). 

A demonic form took shape from a shadowy mist immediately as the die landed on a demonic symbol. It was a conjuring of an animalistic demon. The clouds above the Circus tents grew dark and blood red. Inside Crowley's tent, the air became suffocatingly hot.

The demon, which appeared as a two-headed dog, belched a stream of pinkish flesh onto the floor, before disappearing. The flesh began to bubble and pop in front of Shawn as it began to take form.

"Sometimes an old soul makes a new companion." Crowley said, marveling at the occurrence and scratching that rash from his neck to the top of his head.

Shawn slowly backed away from the flesh puddle. "What's...what's it going to do?"

"It looks like you conjured Daeva, a demon from a world between our own with the ruination die. Looks like it purged an evil spirit from its world so that it might attatched itself to your essence. There's really no telling what form it will take."

"That hasn't happened in a long while. The last one to play the number game was granted feline characteristics, including nine extra lives. This really is something you don't see often. Good roll!"



In front of Shawn, the blob of meat flesh writhed and sprouted two fleshly bat wings. It be an to hover over the earth, dripping bits of grisle and flaps of skin.

"How is it good that an evil spirit's attached itself to me!" Shawn didn't shout, but his voice was definitely getting a little louder and more panicky.

Crowley thought about that for a moment as the flesh pile sprouted skinny arms and long fingers with sharp nails. "It's not a good thing. Not good at all. But it might be worse. Well, maybe not. Really, I don't know. Maybe you can get it to do the bad things that you don't like to do. Maybe you can give it things that it wants so it doesn't hurt you. Maybe you can fall into a routine with it. You'd be surprised the things that you can get used to in this life."

"Is there any way to get rid of it?" Shawn was starting to freak out - his life had enough problems right now, he couldn't even begin to figure out to stop a demon from ruining everything.

Shawn looked around as Crowley scratched his head some more. The creature connected joints together, the crackling of bones, a humanoid skull coming into form from the center of a heap of flesh.

"Well, you could buy the game and play again?" Crowley offered with a smile.

"That - oh." Shawn was brought up short as he realised what his overconfidence had led him to. He'd managed to bargain Crowley down the first time, but walked right into his trick. Still, he had to keep his eyes on the prize - he couldn't get distracted.

"Maybe...but first I want to find something that'll make my friend not want to come here. Then maybe I'll see if I've got enough to buy the Game." If Shawn did buy the Numbers Game, he'd have to ask for lessons before he used it again.

Crowely smiled a knowing, greasy smile. "Are you sure? I could throw both the game and the kids blanket in for 3/4 of your soul." He offered, and Shawn could sense the Wiley creature was sniffing for a deal of some kind.

Meanwhile the heap of flesh had finished forming in front of Shawn with a series of strange knuckle cracking sounds. It was an imp, approximately one foot tall. It hovered in the air in front of Shawn's waist.

"I am Feddler. My summoning begins your debt, mortal." It said in a thin voice.

"If you're willing to sell me a package deal, you can do three as easily as two. And I know you could go lower than 3/4..." Shawn tried to get back into negotiation mode; now there was even more at stake than before.

This was made that much more difficult by the sudden appearance of an imp. "Hello, Feddler, my name is Shawn. What do you mean by debt?"

"But I'm giving you the special price." Crowely weedled. "There's a price for clients and then there's a special price for friends. Also, these wares are top quality. You won't find a better Pawn shop in all the Nether regions. The goods have been made with the utmost suffering in mind.

"I don't know, Crowley; I need to see your items first. And I think you can go lower than that - I know there's a margin on these things." Shawn didn't really know what a margin was, but it was something Mr. Sellick and the producers he occasionally met mentioned and it sounded business related. He was trying to play hardball; it was a little incongruous coming from a ten year old, but he was delivering it as best he could.

Crowley seemed dissappointed by Shawn's haggling. But it was the Imp that seemed to be taken aback the most. Not by the discussion that Shawn and Crowley were having, but rather, by Shawn's own introduction. Finding it's voice oncemore, Feddler spoke in a low, demon-growl.

"I am Feddler. I am your curse and your end. I am the beginning of your pain. I am the...." He stopped when Shawn introduced himself. "Don't interrupt me..." He said, seemingly sidetracked.

"I seek to do evil and undo all good. I see the good in people and I extinguish it with darkness. I find the things that you like and I turn them sour like putrid fruit. The fruit of the tree of life, which you harvest for sustenance, will be forevermore replaced with poison, so that you may taste eternal pain in accordance with Daeva, the bringer of Darkness."

"Why?" It wasn't meant to be a mocking question, but Shawn couldn't really think of anything else to say. How do you respond to a foot high demon declaring its intention to ruin your life?

Feddler stretched his very lean body to  stand erect to a little over two fores tall. However, he had a tendency to hunch over with his back curved forward and his head hanging below his shoulder line.

"I...what?" The Imp said, this time in a thinner voice, as if shocked by the question .

"Why do you want to sour all the things I like and extinguish the good in people?" Seeing the imp's surprise, Shawn was now genuinely curious about the answer. Had it never been asked something like this before?

The imp lurched its head forward, craning itself in Shawn's orbit, leathery wings padding the air as it swayed while it hovered. Then, it resumed its low growling, deep voice and spoke with renewed confidence.

"I am sent by the almighty Daeva, a demon whose knowledge of pain and punishment knows no bounds. When you sleep, and your pillow is comfortable, I will take note of that comfort and defecate in your pillow so that you're next sleep is not as comfortable. And so that it smells bad. Very bad."

"If you should do well in a sporting event, I will add hot talcum powder to your jock strap so that your private parts will itch and so that you do not perform well during the next event. The itching will itchy. Very itchy."

"If you should wear pants and bend over, know that I will be responsible should the seam on your backside tear, exposing your backside for all to see and laugh at."

"Understand that none of these things bring me joy. Rather, I will suffer much pain and anguish the result of my actions. I will see you suffer and then I will punish myself for I am damned to suffer an eternity of punishment. I am nothing. I am less than nothing. And for my sins in a past life, the almighty Daeva has banished me to an eternal life of servitude and punishment against others and against myself."

"Oh. I'm sorry, then. It sounds like you don't want to do that stuff any more than I do." Shawn wasn't sure why he was being so nice to a demon who admitted it wanted to ruin his life, but it seemed like his need to be liked extended even to demonic creatures. He looked over at Crowley to see if he had anything to add, or more products to show off.

"Well..." The imp said, floating up into the air. "I'll....I'll see you back at ummm....ummmm...your place of living." It finished rather lamely, as if unsure how to deal with anything that wasn't in the form of aggressive abuse or punishment. Then it simply flew out of the tent flap, muddering under its breath a bunch of what sounded light recited, memorized lines glorifying torture and punishment.  Shawn thought he heard the Imp say something about making Shawn's life a 'living hell' before it left.

Suddenly, Shawn found himself alone with Crowley again, the baby-faced creature still scratching at its angry, red rash with the biggest of smiles on its face. "So! Do we have a deal then?" He asked.

"I believe you said 1/4 of your soul for the blanket." This part Shawn found familiar.

"And the rest of it for the numbers game." This part Shawn did not remember agreeing to at all.

"It's all about trust." Crowley said, giving Shawn a syrupy smile.

Shawn gave the imp an awkward wave goodbye as it left before turning back to Crowley. "Oh sure, trust's good. But if I gave you my whole soul right now, I couldn't give you more business later. And you still haven't shown me what I'm looking for, but I trust that you'll have it on hand."

"You don't give in easily" Crowely said, and he said it in a miffed, huffy way.

Shawn waited as Crowely waited as if he wanted Shawn to insruct him

"Your products are really good - I want to make sure I get my, uh, soul's worth." Shawn gave him a friendly smile, trying to overwhelm him with charm. "I want something that will make my friend not want to come here - without hurting him or anything like that. And maybe miss his parents less. Do you have something that'll do that?"

Crowely thought for a moment, placing one sharp, yellowed, long fingernail up to his lips.

"I might have something like that. But I told you before its all about trust." he said, slyly.

"You've got to have something else besides soul to give me. And if you don't have anything, then you've got to do something for me. I've got something that needs to be retrieved from somewhere. But that's all I'm going to say about that. That's the deal."

Shawn had been holding back on this since he'd arrived, unsure if it'd be something Crowley would want, but it seemed now was the time. He pulled out the jar of face paint and set it down gently on the counter. "This may look like ordinary face paint, but it's got powerful magic in it; it changes people, makes them different, opposite, even. It's very valuable." He tried with all his actor's conviction to make it sound worth its weight in rubies, perhaps the most important thing ever to be sold.

Crowley watched Shawn, his face turning slightly to one side as Shawn put the jar of face paint on the old wooden table. Feeling the red felt on his finger tips, Shawn let go, allowing the jar of face paint to speak for itself. It sat there in between them, like some official starting point to what might be a lengthy negotiation.

Shawn Rolls Wits + Empathy vs.  Contested by Crowley  (To see if he can read Crowley's reaction to the placement of the Jar)

Shawn Rolls Manipulation + Expression +3 vs. Contested by Crowley (To see if he can convince Crowley)

OOC: 21:04, Today: Shawn Cramer rolled 2 successes using 6d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s. Wits + Empathy + WP.

Not sure if the Expression roll gets Striking Looks, so I'll roll them separately.

21:06, Today: Shawn Cramer rolled 3 successes using 10d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling on 9 or more with rolls of 3,5,4,3,1,2,6,9(+9,5),10(+3),3.  Manipulation + Expression +3.

This is two successes if Profession Training hasn't kicked in yet.

21:06, Today: Shawn Cramer rolled 2 successes using 2d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling on 9 or more with rolls of 8,10(+1).  Striking Looks.

05:07, Today: Evil Circus - Crowley Noggenfogger failed (no successes) using 3d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s ((1,5,2)).

A twitch could be seen on the side of Crowley's face. And with it, the tell-tale sign of a slight smirk. Shawn could immediately tell that this was of value. It was the way Crowley squinted at the jar and the way his eyes remained fixed on the top. He had stopped scratching that angry rash as well.

05:09, Today: Evil Circus - Crowley Noggenfogger failed (no successes) using 5d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s ((4,4,5,2,5)).

Crowley looked up to match Shawn's gaze. It looked like he had been caught. Had been so focused on the object he had let his guard down and wasn't aware that Shawn had been all the while watching him. All the while taking in the fact that he valued the face paint. A bead of sweat began to form on Crowley's bald pate.

"This and 1/4 your soul for the blanket and the Tweed-berry cocktail and its a deal. The Tweed-berry is a bush that is grown only on Circus grounds. Many take it to forget things. You're friend will forget this place exists for at half a year. Then you'll have to come back." 

Shawn realised that Crowley thought the jar was valuable, but remained poker-faced. "Could you maybe throw in the numbers game and tell me how to use it? Please?" He kept his tone sweet and beseeching, trying not to let it on that he noticed Crowley's mistake.

"The Numbers Game..." Crowley repeated, in a contemplative voice, fingernail touching pursed, cracked lips. Then he spoke with rare candor, all the while eyeing the jar of Face Paint.

"It's all about physical cosmology." The baby-faced creature said.

"You have to be in touch with your Darker side to stand of chance of rolling anything other than a ruination die. A ruination die brings ruin. That's why Feddler came about. You rolled a ruination die, which summoned the Demon. To get in touch with your Darker side, you have to do something really mean spirited. Or, you have to get someone to teach you the Dark arts of the Occult." (OOC: Game Translation, this will increase your Occult Skill when determining Good, Good/Bad, Bad - Dice)

"Once that is done, your chances of swallowing numbers and spitting up good things increases. First, you'll get useful information by spitting up die that comes from a source outside of yourself. Eventually you'll spit up a Fortune die. Though truth be told, you really have to play the game many times in a row to get things going, and that means taking risk and having a lot of Stamina."

"Once the Circus opens, the Fortune Teller is your best bet to teach you. But you should have tried many times before seeking her out. Many times to ensure that you are well practiced. I can broker an introduction"

He pushed the wooden box of the Number's Game forward.

"Now.." he said, putting a small packet of powder on top of it. "Tweed-berry cocktail, the Numbers Game and the Blanket. For 1/4 of your soul and the jar... and its a deal."

Shawn agreed with the deal in principle, but he still had a few questions before he could make the final agreement. "Okay, but what sort of mean-spirited stuff do you mean? And how do I use the cocktail? Does it have side-effects or anything like that?"

"You must mix it into the victim's drink. I say victim because no one would willingly forget something in this circumstance. Also, you must do something mean spirited. Something that someone like you would only do for the pure reason of hurting someone. Then you must immediately write down the first number that comes to mind and perform the ritual." Crowley smiled, as if he was satisfied with the deal as it was unfolding.

"O-okay. Are there any side-effects to the drink?" Maybe Shawn was being paranoid, but he was learning that Crowley sometimes 'forgot' questions and had to be reminded.

"Indeed." Crowley said. "There's a chance that the person might forget, at the most, one other singular thing as well. It's hard to say. But there was a Clown named Woodrow who ate the Tweed-Berry. He forgot who Cherrywinks was in addition to forgetting all about how to put on his Clown suit. Cherrywinks lopped off his hand. He ran around for a good 50 years without that hand, and was known as One-hand Woodrow during that time. Before the Great War between the Acrobats and the Clowns that killed him and so many others."

There was a lot to unpack in what Crowley just said, but it sounded like the important bit was acceptable. Shawn would just have to keep an eye on Bobby afterwards to make sure he didn't forget anything really important. "Okay, then we have a deal." Shawn stuck his hand out to shake.

No sooner than Shawn had said the words, then did Crowley feverishly push the Numbers Game forward, the small packet of the Tweed-berry on top of it. He grasped the jar with both hands, bringing it forward and clutching it towards his own body greedily. One eye looked up under a hairless brow at Shawn.

"Oh, yes." Crowley said, as if he had forgotten that shaking hands was a way to seal a deal. Maintaining his crouched position, lurching over the jar, one small baby hand with sharp, long nails extended outward towards Shawn.

"Deal." he said.

"And remember, with the Numbers Game, practice makes perfect. No matter how bad the early results are."

"I-I'll keep that in mind." Shawn shook Crowley's hand gingerly, trying not to cut himself on his sharp fingernails.

OOC: Shawn adds

- Numbers Game

- Tweedberry

- Ralph's Blanket

- Permanent loss of 1 Willpower (1/4 Soul Sold)

to inventory

Shawn Joins Thread:  Shawn: Bobby Must Forget