Halloween 2020: Choose Your Spooky Outcome: Chapter 3
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You’ve been doing these Halloween adventures for some time, to say nothing of your annual Arbor Day events and other sojourns into the unknown. Long enough to learn that sometimes, the scariest option can be the most direct. Giving the pile of bones one last stare, just in case a shape suddenly snaps into familiarity, you step forward along the road, motioning for the others to follow.
In minutes, the road begins to turn upward, even though you can see no hill before you. Only what you’ve traveled shows it’s slope, the sharp incline obscuring even the barest hints of what lay along the other paths. Further and further the four of you climb, up toward a pitch black night with only the barest hint of clouds rolling overhead. Jim is huffing for air, and your legs are starting to feel sore, but at last the climb halts as you crest the unseen summit.
It’s a good thing you already needed to catch your breath, because there’s no hiding the gasp that escapes your lips as the scene comes into view. It appears as though your group has walked it’s way to the front of a grand mansion atop a massive estate. Another road runs perpendicular to the one you took, and on it are a seemingly endless line of carts, coaches, cars, and various riding animals. Each one making it’s way to the front of the mansion where the guests depart their vehicles, all dressed in impossibly fancy clothing. Literally impossible, there is no way a person should be capable of moving under all those layers and fabrics. The only other shared feature are the masks, each uniquely styled, yet identical in shape and make, like some sort of ceramic.
“Shall we?” Victoria asks, poking you in the back. Guess you were staring longer than intended.
“Huh?” Eloquent as ever, aren’t you? Looking back at the mansion, you swallow hard, remembering that this isn’t merely a walking tour. You’re in The Between searching for clues, and they probably aren’t going to be found on the empty roadways. “Yeah… yeah, I guess we go in.”
Thad claps you on the shoulders in encouragement as you all start across the lawn. “Don’t worry, I’ve crashed a few parties in my day, it’s all about confidence.”
“And if they get wise, knock a bunch of shit over when we try to escape,” Jim adds. “More junk for them to run around, and they’ll usually waste a few seconds being shocked you did that.”
You know what, for Jim, that’s almost relevant advice. Just as you’re about to compliment him on the thought, you turn to find your roommate hurriedly moving a hand from his mouth and swallowing. “Jim, what did you just take?”
“No idea, but one of the decorative bushes had some mushrooms growing on it, thought they’d be worth a try.” Jim pauses, squinting slightly. “Counter-question: when did you grow a moose’s head with a blowhole, and can said blowhole be used for funneling a beer?”
In a way, it’s reassuring to see Jim unchanged, despite the surroundings. Together, you all approach the front, unsure of what lie you’ll have to tell to make your way in.
As it turns out, no falsehoods are required. The moment you reach the door, a pair of guards in ornate costumes step aside, opening the path. Your next steps are down a massive hallway lined with portraits. Hundreds, thousands, they pack the walls one after another, going off down branching halls you’re wise enough not to follow. With every step, the countless eyes follow, watching. Waiting?
At last, music reaches your ears, the sounds of some stuffy strain you’re more familiar with from movies about high society than actual experience. The hallway parts to reveal a balcony looking down upon a tremendous ballroom. As the music plays, the costumed revelers dance, some intricately woven routines, others flinging their bodies about with no discernable rhythm whatsoever. New dancers join as others retire to the sidelines, mingling along the edge until they are ready to return.
Watching over all of it, seated upon very nearly a throne on a raise platform, was a masked person in an elaborate gown with a purple collar higher than the top of their dark hair. Once you all step fully onto the balcony, the watcher raises a single hand, silencing the room and stilling every dancer. Maybe that was a coincidence?
“It appears our Ball of Bones has a special visitor this evening. You cannot conceal yourself within these halls, not even with such a potent trinket. Step forth, Victoria of the Willowbrooks.” The simple statement reaches through the air and grabs your ears, demanding to be heard. The words hit with such power, it takes you several seconds to realize the voice speaking them was female.
You think you hear some grumbling as Victoria pulls back her hood, revealing an dazzling work of art upon her face. She’s painted intricate purple swirls along her brow and cheeks, bringing everything together on her forehead so it combines into a circle that looked almost like a third eye. Lifting her head, she nods to the watcher. “Your reception is generous, and well-met. We do not wish to disturb the revelry.”
The watcher’s ceramic mask was designed with several shifting hues, yet the section around the eyes is stark and bold as it bores in your direction. “Disturb? Nothing of the sort. You follow a traveler, and they are walking fonts of diversion. Tell me, traveler, what have you come seeking?”
It takes a second to realize she’s talking to you, and a few more after that to find your voice as an entire ballroom of creepy masks stares you down. “Oh! Uh, actually, we’re not totally sure on that front. Someone has been sending things to our realm and reaching out, so I was… answering their call, I guess?”
“I see. You know not what you seek, nor how to find it. A traveler in great need, of guidance, tools, truth, so many things lacking. We shall see what you are capable of earning.”
The long stretch of silence after she finishes seems to indicate an implied next step, though you’ve got little clue what it’s supposed to be. After several very awkward seconds, you finally confess, “What exactly do you mean by earning?”
“The traveler may walk the landless lands, winning aid or scorn with their deeds. You have entered our ball, it is only fitting that you show us a dance. A duet of any style or theme. Your performance will determine our response, therefore I would choose a partner carefully.”
From somewhere unseen, a huge beam of a light flashes down in the center of the dance floor, and the crowd begins parting to open your way. Looks like you’re going to have to strut your stuff if you want any help, now it’s just a matter of deciding who to bring along.