When he tilted his head to the afternoon sky, the rounded disc of copper barely visible against the backdrop of a gloomy sky was enough to remind him of what was so important about tonight. Another full moon, yet with its ivory face replaced by a blood orange tinge. He hadn't seen an eclipse in a while, and judging by the moon's distorted reflection, the universe had scheduled one sometime this week. As long as it didn't interrupt their chance for a vigil, then Beck didn't mind too much. What was so amazing about the sun or the moon or some other planet blocking each other? Maybe for creatures who didn't have an eternity to spend stargazing, it was, but the poltergeist didn't stop everything to gawk at some stupid red moon.
Instead he carried about his business as usual, gathering the leftover masks from the previous vigil, rigging the cemetery with traps and covering up surfacing corpses, and draining an old rickety boar of its blood into buckets. Despite the concerned looks a few passerby shot at him, the poltergeist wobbled up onto the cemetery's low brick wall near the entrance gate, hiding the teetering buckets of pig blood under an overgrown shrub just as the sun was beginning to tuck in for the night. The expected burlap sack of assorted masks had been propped up against the wall, along with multiple squares of vibrant red cloth. Everything looked ready to go, but something felt missing.
What else was he forgetting? A puzzled look warped his face as he smeared the boar's blood coating his paws on the porous brick he perched on, a glint of recollection entering his glare as his scarred lips mouthed an "oh." A mask, he needed his mask. Where had he put it again? Glancing around at the wall beneath his feet before remembering, Beck suddenly reached a paw into his gut, the limb phasing through and disturbing his otherwise stable apparition as he fished around for his stored mask, pulling out the accessorized skull from seemingly his own gut without a wince. Turning over the mask to stare back at empty sockets punctured through its horned face of bone, the mangy feline traced his paw across its carnivorous teeth. With a rattling sigh, he flipped the mask back around to don it, stretching the band attached to the skull's edges over his head and behind his bothersome ears. Adjusting the mask until it rested on his face and snout without slipping off, he leaned forward to glance down at a muddy puddle. There was no reflection to gaze back at him, save for the mutant's skull suspended in thin air and the rising moon.
Beck sunk further into a dejected slouch, lifting his vision to catch a glimpse of his approaching peers. Collecting himself with a shake of his head, he pushed his mask up to rest on his forehead so his freckled features were exposed as he wickedly grinned. "Guess what, y'all? We've got a full moon up in the sky, and that means it's time for this mask vigil!" Beck awkwardly wheezed, unsure of what exactly to say. "Um, some of ya did it last time, but there's been some l'il changes to how it's gonna go. See those bits of cloth?" The poltergeist tapped the wall above where he had set out the folded cloths, explaining their purpose in a flat tone, "Instead of ya havin' to look for 'em, ya gotta tie 'em 'round your wrist or whatever, and just walk into the graveyard behind me to start the challenge. All ya gotta do to win this is stay in there until the sun comes up, then ya get to pick out your own bonafide Tangler mask. 'Course, that'd be too easy, so those with masks already are gonna be hunting y'all down -- anything goes 'cept for killin' 'n' maimin'. If you're caught and we take your cloth, ya lose and have to wait another month to get a mask. Got it?" Beck neglected to mention why the scent of blood was wafting from where he had stored the gore-filled buckets earlier, yet with a slight smirk, he added in a morbid giggle, "Oh, and since it's a blood moon accordin' to the calendar, there's gonna be a prize for those who last the night." With the trial's instructions hanging in the air for all the hear, the commander's apparition sublimated into nonexistence, his mask lingering in his place for a moment before it too disappeared under the veil. "Good luck, don't suck," were the final disembodied words Beck gave before stalking off into the cemetery to wait for the first brave soul to participate.
[align=center]»――➤Instead he carried about his business as usual, gathering the leftover masks from the previous vigil, rigging the cemetery with traps and covering up surfacing corpses, and draining an old rickety boar of its blood into buckets. Despite the concerned looks a few passerby shot at him, the poltergeist wobbled up onto the cemetery's low brick wall near the entrance gate, hiding the teetering buckets of pig blood under an overgrown shrub just as the sun was beginning to tuck in for the night. The expected burlap sack of assorted masks had been propped up against the wall, along with multiple squares of vibrant red cloth. Everything looked ready to go, but something felt missing.
What else was he forgetting? A puzzled look warped his face as he smeared the boar's blood coating his paws on the porous brick he perched on, a glint of recollection entering his glare as his scarred lips mouthed an "oh." A mask, he needed his mask. Where had he put it again? Glancing around at the wall beneath his feet before remembering, Beck suddenly reached a paw into his gut, the limb phasing through and disturbing his otherwise stable apparition as he fished around for his stored mask, pulling out the accessorized skull from seemingly his own gut without a wince. Turning over the mask to stare back at empty sockets punctured through its horned face of bone, the mangy feline traced his paw across its carnivorous teeth. With a rattling sigh, he flipped the mask back around to don it, stretching the band attached to the skull's edges over his head and behind his bothersome ears. Adjusting the mask until it rested on his face and snout without slipping off, he leaned forward to glance down at a muddy puddle. There was no reflection to gaze back at him, save for the mutant's skull suspended in thin air and the rising moon.
Beck sunk further into a dejected slouch, lifting his vision to catch a glimpse of his approaching peers. Collecting himself with a shake of his head, he pushed his mask up to rest on his forehead so his freckled features were exposed as he wickedly grinned. "Guess what, y'all? We've got a full moon up in the sky, and that means it's time for this mask vigil!" Beck awkwardly wheezed, unsure of what exactly to say. "Um, some of ya did it last time, but there's been some l'il changes to how it's gonna go. See those bits of cloth?" The poltergeist tapped the wall above where he had set out the folded cloths, explaining their purpose in a flat tone, "Instead of ya havin' to look for 'em, ya gotta tie 'em 'round your wrist or whatever, and just walk into the graveyard behind me to start the challenge. All ya gotta do to win this is stay in there until the sun comes up, then ya get to pick out your own bonafide Tangler mask. 'Course, that'd be too easy, so those with masks already are gonna be hunting y'all down -- anything goes 'cept for killin' 'n' maimin'. If you're caught and we take your cloth, ya lose and have to wait another month to get a mask. Got it?" Beck neglected to mention why the scent of blood was wafting from where he had stored the gore-filled buckets earlier, yet with a slight smirk, he added in a morbid giggle, "Oh, and since it's a blood moon accordin' to the calendar, there's gonna be a prize for those who last the night." With the trial's instructions hanging in the air for all the hear, the commander's apparition sublimated into nonexistence, his mask lingering in his place for a moment before it too disappeared under the veil. "Good luck, don't suck," were the final disembodied words Beck gave before stalking off into the cemetery to wait for the first brave soul to participate.
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