Lancrist
11-18-2009, 11:37 PM
http://img32.imageshack.us/img32/2272/clowncopy.jpg
OOC Thread (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=1224)
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http://i36.tinypic.com/2mx4w8w.jpg
Like the transformation of the forest when summer’s warmth has abated, Tinker Town had, with the arrival of autumn, discarded its typical array of lush greens and blues and whites for those colours that defined the season. Lamp posts had been wrapped in the richest gold ribbons, while crimson and orange banners were draped almost whimsically from rooftops and railings, and it seemed the whole town was an organic thing that, like nature, could barely resist the change that came with each new season. The mechanical pursuits of summertime, when the Tinker’s Guild hosted great exhibitions of the newest and most promising workmanship, were left behind, to be awaited next year. With the shadow of winter looming on the horizon, the hour for preparation had come, with food to be stored, reparations to be made, and homes to be furnished with furs and blankets and curtains to withstand the coming chill.
This transition was welcomed by the residents of Tinker Town, for whom grief was still fresh in their minds, the wounds of one fateful night not yet closed. They could occupy themselves with the annual routine that was both exhausting and satisfying, and which would reassure them that the world was not as dark and hopeless as some circumstances might suggest, but was something that could, if not be controlled, be understood and anticipated. Few now mentioned that malicious clown who had orchestrated his vengeful curse. The four youths whom he had corrupted had possessed such talent and promise; so that their cruel transformations were all the more lamented, and they were certainly the source of much personal despair for their families.
Occasionally these children were seen about the town, suffering in varying degrees the ignorance, or contempt, or fear, of people who had but recently adored them. They were not known to eat, drink, or sleep, and wandered aimlessly, sometimes conversing with one another, other times striving to forget their ordeal in isolation. Some residents had come to see these children as dreadful specters that haunted the streets, and who populated the nightmares of their children. It was a growing opinion among Tinker Town that the accursed children should be cast out and forgotten. Would that not, they argued, be better for everyone?
Of a night, these four children, united by their mutual misfortune, gathered in the clock tower. Both the tallest and most resplendent structure in Tinker Town, it was a straight and narrow spire whose walls, both interior and exterior, were almost completely immersed in clocks of all shapes and sizes, and that all ticked in an eerie unison that echoed all throughout the tower. On the outside it was decorated in magnificent statues of bronze and silver and gold, while on the inside the stairwell was austere and grey, its wooden framework plainly visible. Because of this, the tower was only occasionally entered for maintenance, and the single room which stood at the very peak, wherein hung a magnificent bell which bellowed the passing of every hour, providing a perfect rendezvous for the accursed four. From its gaping windows could be observed a panoramic view of Tinker Town and the grasslands that surrounded it, divided only by the three great roads which exited the town: the Dixie Way, which headed north, toward the town of its namesake, and Tinker Street and Spanner Street, which pointed westward and eastward respectively, the former leading to Starkeep, and the latter to the Phantom Forest.
It was here, like every other night, that they presently gathered, to share their hopes and dreams, and, perhaps, to devise a way to rid themselves of their curse.
OOC Thread (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=1224)
_____________________________________________
http://i36.tinypic.com/2mx4w8w.jpg
Like the transformation of the forest when summer’s warmth has abated, Tinker Town had, with the arrival of autumn, discarded its typical array of lush greens and blues and whites for those colours that defined the season. Lamp posts had been wrapped in the richest gold ribbons, while crimson and orange banners were draped almost whimsically from rooftops and railings, and it seemed the whole town was an organic thing that, like nature, could barely resist the change that came with each new season. The mechanical pursuits of summertime, when the Tinker’s Guild hosted great exhibitions of the newest and most promising workmanship, were left behind, to be awaited next year. With the shadow of winter looming on the horizon, the hour for preparation had come, with food to be stored, reparations to be made, and homes to be furnished with furs and blankets and curtains to withstand the coming chill.
This transition was welcomed by the residents of Tinker Town, for whom grief was still fresh in their minds, the wounds of one fateful night not yet closed. They could occupy themselves with the annual routine that was both exhausting and satisfying, and which would reassure them that the world was not as dark and hopeless as some circumstances might suggest, but was something that could, if not be controlled, be understood and anticipated. Few now mentioned that malicious clown who had orchestrated his vengeful curse. The four youths whom he had corrupted had possessed such talent and promise; so that their cruel transformations were all the more lamented, and they were certainly the source of much personal despair for their families.
Occasionally these children were seen about the town, suffering in varying degrees the ignorance, or contempt, or fear, of people who had but recently adored them. They were not known to eat, drink, or sleep, and wandered aimlessly, sometimes conversing with one another, other times striving to forget their ordeal in isolation. Some residents had come to see these children as dreadful specters that haunted the streets, and who populated the nightmares of their children. It was a growing opinion among Tinker Town that the accursed children should be cast out and forgotten. Would that not, they argued, be better for everyone?
Of a night, these four children, united by their mutual misfortune, gathered in the clock tower. Both the tallest and most resplendent structure in Tinker Town, it was a straight and narrow spire whose walls, both interior and exterior, were almost completely immersed in clocks of all shapes and sizes, and that all ticked in an eerie unison that echoed all throughout the tower. On the outside it was decorated in magnificent statues of bronze and silver and gold, while on the inside the stairwell was austere and grey, its wooden framework plainly visible. Because of this, the tower was only occasionally entered for maintenance, and the single room which stood at the very peak, wherein hung a magnificent bell which bellowed the passing of every hour, providing a perfect rendezvous for the accursed four. From its gaping windows could be observed a panoramic view of Tinker Town and the grasslands that surrounded it, divided only by the three great roads which exited the town: the Dixie Way, which headed north, toward the town of its namesake, and Tinker Street and Spanner Street, which pointed westward and eastward respectively, the former leading to Starkeep, and the latter to the Phantom Forest.
It was here, like every other night, that they presently gathered, to share their hopes and dreams, and, perhaps, to devise a way to rid themselves of their curse.