The Quest to Eliminate Pumpkin Scat

1. Re: The Quest to Eliminate Pumpkin Scat

   #41

   Well, I'm in a bit of a pickle. You see, I contacted Franz via email about the Ch'amway. According to him, these are not the typical variety and require special handling. He does, however, know the cure, but it will likely require another journey to gather some special ingredients. He wishes to meet with me to speak of the matter in person, but the thought terrifies me no end.
   
   What have I gotten myself into?

2. Re: The Quest to Eliminate Pumpkin Scat

   #42

   Well.
   
   I had hoped we would not need to speak of these things again. I tried to handle things on my own - I didn't want to drag any of you back into these dark tidings. But now I find myself in over my head, so to speak, and I am helpless. I come to plead your assistance one last time.
   
   It happened on the last day of this year - a full year since you last mentioned your dreadful affairs. The wife and I were enjoying a quiet fire out on the brazier in our back yard. Our yuletide wreath had gone dry, and I suggested we burn it up as a way of marking the new year.
   
   With foolhardy abandon - brought on by more than a little drink - I tossed the wreath into the fire. Instantly it flared a bright orange, then pure white, the flames roaring. My wife was frightened and went inside to fetch a bucket of water in case the fire left its container. I stayed to keep watch.
   
   And out of those flames, I saw it.
   
   I cannot - I dare not - try to describe in vivid detail what I saw, though the image is burned into my mind and I see it whenever I try to rest (O, to sleep peacefully again!). I will tell you only this: there were eyes, dreadful eyes; a tangle of flesh wrapped on warped bone; and an endless, gaping maw.
   
   In a moment it was gone. When my wife returned, the flames had died down, but I could not banish the sight from my mind. What had been called forth from those flames? Why did I still feel its presence?
   
   I contacted your acquaintance, Franz, as I knew of no one else who could help. He responded within minutes - odd, given the holiday - asking about the origin of the wreath. We got it as the same time as our tree, at one of those stands that seems to conjure from nowhere after Thanksgiving. It was small, only a handful of workmen there, and we spoke to man named Mikko. He was a Finn, tall and gangly, perhaps in his thirties but maybe much older, with a shock of yellow hair and a thick mustache. He was friendly enough, jovial and with a thick accent, and he gave us a good deal on a spruce. When I asked him where it was from (there are many such tree farms in the Carolina mountains), he leaned in close and said "On the banks of the Tuoni! But which bank? The near, or the far?" As he pulled away, I saw a crazed grin on his face and a queer twitch in his eye. Too much of the hard cider, I reckoned, and smiled politely. As his fellows loaded the tree onto my car, Mikko offered my wife a wreath since we were "such good customers." We threw the tree into the back and drove off.
   
   I had thought nothing more of Mikko or his odd answer until Franz asked. I relayed the information to him and awaited his reply, the image of the fiery beast never far from my mind. A week went by, then two. Finally I had a reply from Franz, but a grim one at that. He said the wreath must have been made from the boughs of a tree grown near the River of the Dead, which the Finns called Tuovi. The "far bank," as Mikko put it, was that in the Realm of the Dead, called Tuonela by the Finnish. It goes by many names: the Greeks call the river Styx or Acheron, the Sumerians know the land as Irkalla, to the Hebrews it is Sheol. All the names mark the same place: beyond the dark river is lies the deep abyss where the dead dwell.
   
   Franz believes the wreath was made from a tree that feeds from that evil water, and the branches must have held some dark being drawn from that place. By burning it - O foolish Suzod! - I released the spirit into the world. Even now, he surmised, it haunts my yard still, which explains the blood seeping from the trees and the black vines encircling my gazebo. As for a solution, Franz said he could not help, not even he would dare provoke this demon.
   
   And so, my friends, I ask you: what shall I do? How can I exorcise this creature from my lawn? How shall I send it back across the Dead River into the Land of Darkness? When should I seed, and when should I feed?

3. Re: The Quest to Eliminate Pumpkin Scat

   #43

   Alas, poor soul! You have been well and truly marked!
   
   First, I must caution you to be wary of Franz's words. His help oft has a hidden cost and his aims do not always align with others' as well as they may at first seem. I learned this to my detriment during last year's foray into hell.
   
   Beyond that, I suspect Mikko to be an agent of... someone I had dealings with just prior to your acquiring the wreath. I shan't speak it's name, for I do not wish to conjure it here.
   
   Sadly, I must confess that I may, in fact, have intimate knowledge of this tree. 'Tis entirely possible that my hand felled it and my arms carried it across to the near side of that very river of which you speak.

4. Re: The Quest to Eliminate Pumpkin Scat

   #44

   I have seen your tale, and I am shocked beyond measure. To meet the wrath of Xbalanque, and return - even as the undead, this is unheard of. I pray your experience will uncover this mystery.
   
   After reading Franz's advice, I returned to the field where I had met Mikko. I knew the chance of seeing him again was slim - such stands disappear quickly around December 25. What I did not expect was what I found: not only the stand, but the whole clearing was gone! In its place was a dense forest, all pines and hickories, no sign of human habitation. I parked on the side of the road and prepared to go into the wood, but something stopped me - fate, perhaps, and I stayed away. Whatever force caused this grove to suddenly appear was not one to be encountered lightly.
   
   I reentered my truck and sat in the driver's seat, confused and exhausted. The demonic image still haunted my mind, and now the only clue I had to its origin was gone.
   
   But now, having spoken to Mystic, I have new knowledge:
   

   (13:08:19) MysticMoon: And there is a reason I needed to travel to the far side of the river Tuoni
   (13:08:57) Dozus: I still don't understand how this Mikko, whatever dark service he does, came into the possession of the wreath.
   (13:09:08) Dozus: And how it then came to me, of all people!
   (13:10:26) MysticMoon: I suspect all will become clear as the tale unfolds. Eventually. Well, mabye most of it
   (13:10:50) Dozus: Say, does water normally taste like blood and darkness? I can't remember.
   (13:11:15) MysticMoon: I thought the tree safely hidden away from the world. At least, as I last left it
   (13:13:17) Dozus: Did you yourself cut it from its dark roots? Did you break its iron bark and feel its volcanic sap?
   (13:13:56) MysticMoon: Aye, that I did. It was essential in bringing my mortal body back to life.
   (13:14:08) Dozus: Of course. Hair o' the dog, and all that.
   (13:14:54) MysticMoon: Yes. One of 9 ingredients the necromancer bade me gather
   (13:15:10) Dozus: Wait, which necromancer?
   (13:15:20) MysticMoon: Have you read my tale in full?
   (13:15:41) MysticMoon: He is the one who bound my spirit back into my decaying flesh
   (13:15:44) Dozus: Not yet, my friend, not yet. I'm reading it now, between the flashes of terror.
   (13:17:35) MysticMoon: I suspect Franz replied to you so quickly out of a suspecion that he knew the tree of which you spoke
   (13:18:02) MysticMoon: If so, he is very much aware of the demon within. As am I, but my soul still shivers when I think of such things
   (13:22:05) Dozus: ...Well. That is a frightful story indeed. To have gone into the realm of the dead, seen the wrath of Xbalanque, and returned!
   (13:22:53) Dozus: Then you have seen the River of which I speak. You have met the Boatman and paid his terrible price.
   (13:24:06) MysticMoon: My journey to that river came after... when the necromancer sent me on a quest to recover the ingredients which would bring my corpse back to near full health and life
   (13:24:27) MysticMoon: Perhaps as your story unfolds, there will be pieces of my own which will help rid you of this demon
   (13:24:50) valadaar: great stuff !
   (13:24:53) MysticMoon: Some clue perchance
   (13:25:16) Dozus: I pray so. I cannot say why, but something deep within says that to return this demon from whence it came, I too must journey to those black banks.
   (13:25:43) MysticMoon: Were that demon to become trapped once again along that river... the world would be a much safer place
   (13:26:05) MysticMoon: And it's hideous cries for vengeance upon me silenced
   (13:26:39) Dozus: Perhaps that is why this Mikko sought me out. He knew of our correspondence, our dealings in the Yucatan.
   (13:26:56) MysticMoon: It is possible. Yes, I believe you are correct
   (13:27:02) MysticMoon: Finnish, you say?
   (13:27:12) Dozus: A Finn, yes.
   (13:27:26) Dozus: Did I mention his mark?
   (13:28:02) MysticMoon: There was a woman on my journeys... I could never place her accent, but something in your description of Mikko makes me wonder...
   (13:28:05) MysticMoon: Mark?
   (13:28:59) Dozus: On his left wrist. A twisted tattoo. I have not seen its like...
   (13:29:32) MysticMoon: Ah. Yes, she had one also. They are sure to be connected in some way
   (13:30:00) Dozus: It was like a skull, but with more eyes than a skull should have, and more teeth. A spear was pierced through it.
   (13:30:31) MysticMoon: I spoke to her of things in confidence. I could not have completed my task otherwise. It pains me to think she may have been part of a larger conspiracy
   (13:31:40) MysticMoon: A spear? Yes, she spoke of a spear which pierces the world. It was a spear which led me to the river
   (13:32:03) MysticMoon: This was, in point of fact, the very thing I had sought her help for
   (13:32:26) Dozus: They say the ancient beings who dwell in the other realms keep contacts here in our mortal one. Cults of secrecy and darkness, ever watching, looking for a chance for their masters to return. Perhaps she and Mikko were part of such a cult.
   (13:32:29) Dozus: A spear, you say?
   (13:33:22) MysticMoon: I lost it on my way back, somewhere near the Appalachians, if memory serves
   (13:33:41) MysticMoon: You will certainly need it if you are to find that river
   (13:34:06) Dozus: Then fortune has smiled on me - if only a slight grin. I know those mountains well.
   (13:35:37) MysticMoon: I remember also... the necromancer used the smoke of some sort of dried wood in the ceremony. It may have been cedar? I do not know my trees. He explained to me that the demon found such a smell painful
   (13:36:02) MysticMoon: Perhaps if you are able to procure some, you may limit it's power, though obviously such a thing would not be strong enough to rid you of it completely
   (13:36:07) Dozus: Cedar, truly?! My yard is full of cedars!
   (13:36:48) Dozus: I shall fell the trees tonight! I'll have to get a permit from the HOA, but I'm sure there's a clause for demonic exorcism.
   

   
   The cedars shall burn tonight - I'll mourn their loss, but take joy if the monster's strength is sapped. And thinking again on Mikko's mark, I am reminded of one of my history professors at Appalachian State, a certain Dr. Bond. His background is in medieval religious studies, and he knows many obscure texts. As my quest will bring me to the mountains to seek the spear, perhaps Professor Bond can lend some guidance.

5. Re: The Quest to Eliminate Pumpkin Scat

   #45

   I shall document my journey back to health and life: From Decaying Corpse to Living Flesh... What Cost Could Be Too High?

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