This entry is for organization purposes and is always at/near the top of the page. A previous thread chart may be found here. Threads and logs dated prior to Mayfield's move to DreamWidth can be found here. 

This entry serves as a helpful guide to interacting with my character.

( Read more... )

[Phone; a simple question asked in a quiet voice]

Who's the most dangerous person you know in Mayfield? Tell me about them. Zemekis has been noted.


Action; 726 Anderson Lane
[For several months now, Slugger has been compiling profiles of Mayfield's most dangerous people. It's a project he's tentatively titled "Mayfield's Worst Morons" (subject to change) and one he hopes will be useful for himself and those he considers allies. Included are descriptions of the town's top offenders, such as the Black Mage and the Major with crude but accurate sketches and "danger ratings", small bars scaled 1-10 based on their powers and likelihood to attack. Zemekis, of course, is the reigning champion king of worst morons with many pages dedicated to him/it. Other examples include:

( These Idiots... )


Despite the freezing temperatures, Slugger is seated on the steps of the front porch wearing his usual clothing with no coat. Balanced on his knees is a bound sketchbook on which he is busily scribbling away.]

Day Of

( Boy loses mind... )

Action
[In reality, Slugger hasn't destroyed his house. However, the shed and fence belonging to a drone family has been mutilated beyond repair. A shapeless mass of darkness the size of a house rolls up the street like a muddy tsunami, tumbling cars and completely enveloping anything in its path. Cars, bicycles, trash bins, even drone pedestrians, all are carried along for a short time before they are deposited on the ground further up the street.

In his mind, he's much bigger than he actually is, large enough devour the entire town of Mayfield. And such is his goal in hopes of causing enough damage to prompt a permanent droning. Without suicide as an available option, it's the only escape he has.]

[ooc note] The "blob" is sentient (Slugger can still "see" and "hear" things) and will leave behind no residue or mess. Getting caught in it will lead most likely to minor injury or possible unconsciousness. Madame Foster will be the one to ultimately end Slugger's brief rampage.


Day After

[The hallucinogens have worn off and all has returned to it's former state. Knowing this, Slugger remains apprehensive. It's difficult to shake the experiences of yesterday out of his mind considering how devastating they'd been and how real they'd felt. In an effort to put his thoughts back in order, he's decided to take a walk. For an hour he drifts in circles around town with no destination in mind and an unfocused look in his eyes. One hour turns into two, and two hours into three, until he's passed his house at least four times. And each time he passes by, he stops at the end of the driveway to stare uncertainly up at the house.

The truth is he's afraid to go in. Not everything that happened yesterday may have been real, but what if parts of it were? And if so, he couldn't bear to relive it. He's gathered that "reality" is unreliable and not to be trusted. So, turning away his distant gaze, Slugger prepares to continue his walk.]

Graveyard 
[As the dead rise from the earth after being abducted and placed in their graves, so does Lil' Slugger. He burrows his way up from the ground and begins to shamble through the graveyard, grinning in a most unhinged manner. One arm reaches out ready to ensnare a victim while the other wields a baseball bat unsteadily above his head. He'll wait for a moment for the rest of is family to emerge, then begin to search for his dear friends.]

The streets
[Something is watching you. Something is stalking you. A ghoulishly pale, grinning boy may be peering into your window or hiding behind the bushes, just waiting for the right moment to jump out and snag his prey.]

502 Ricardo Residence 
[Pokey will receive an unexpected visitor in the night. The sound of fingernails scrape against a bedroom window pane and if Pokey looks, he may catch a glimpse of a familiar grinning face.]

Action 1; various shops en route to 726 Anderson Lane
[Today, Slugger has decided to do some shopping in preparation for Halloween. His definition of shopping deviates from the norm in that he takes what he wants and leaves without paying, sometimes with an angry drone store-owner chasing after him and shaking a fist in the air. The irony of it is that he probably has accumulated enough money from his paper route to pay for everything he steals, but Slugger is embarrassingly confused by the currency system and can't tell a nickel from a quarter. His "shopping" expedition takes him from the grocery store to drug stores and any shops that might sell candy along the way.

Lemon heads, Mary Janes, bubble gum, red hots, lollipops, peanut-butter chocolates, candy bars of each type, jaw breakers, every tooth-decaying item the 1950's has to offer (sans candy corn)---all of this is piled into his stolen cart of Halloween goodies. He will return home to Anderson Lane pushing a dangerously overfilled shopping cart along the street or sidewalk. Occasionally, he hops onto the back of the cart for a ride AND to actually see over the mountain of sweets he's carting. Otherwise, when viewed from the front, it may look as if the cart is driving itself.

Action 2; 502 Ricardo Street
[Later in the day, progress continues at the haunted house where Slugger has managed to paint every wall in his section black. Even the floors and ceilings are black. On top of the black coat of paint, hundreds and hundreds of eyes have been painted in white, yellow, and red. Anyone who enters may get a sense of being watched because of all the staring eyes. Much of the painting had been done before the walls were even put up, and now that they are up, he can begin working on the fun part.

All over the floor are spools of black rope, some empty, some not. The room is gradually becoming a jungle of black rope pulled taut from floor to ceiling at different angles. The rope-ends simply disappear into the painted wood without glue or nails to hold them in place. Currently, it's easy to navigate between them, but when he's finished and all the lights are out, it will be a challenge to pass from one end of the room to the other.

In the center of the floor surrounded by many long pieces of rope, Slugger is sitting with his legs bent under him, quietly tying knots at the ends of each piece. He's learned a few things about knot-tying from the times spent helping his mother tie up his father.]

[Following this incident]

[The remains of what had once been Josephine lay scattered in broken heaps, still smoking from the impact of whatever had happened here. Had the mech been bombed? Or had it malfunctioned so badly that it blew itself asunder? It didn't matter. What mattered was the whereabouts of its operator.

Standing motionless amidst the smoldering wreckage and zombie corpses, Slugger is hit simultaneously by a hopeful feeling of relief and a deep sense of dread--relief because Pokey's remains are nowhere to be found, and dread at the notion that he may be wandering around somewhere an infected shell of his former self. And if the latter, then he would have to be put out of such a miserable existence. The matter would be swift and nearly painless.

Slugger's feet begin to carry him away from Josephine's mutilated, metal carcass, his eyes out of focus and his expression blank. He's not upset. No, not at all. Not the slightest bit. Why should he be? What did it matter if Pokey had to die? It wouldn't be the first time. Pokey would be back to normal tomorrow, alive and human. He would be back tomorrow as good as new. It wouldn't matter that his friend hadn't been there to- Yes, tomorrow. He would be back tomorrow. He would be back tomorrow. This train of thought continues while Slugger begins to search for Pokey or Pokey's zombie...

...and continues, until he thoughtlessly allows himself to fall victim to a swarm of zombies. That's when rational thought is violently thrown aside as well as the restless bodies of the undead, shaken off like flies. What rises above them is no longer a boy, but a beast. Soon, everything within a 10 yard radius of his initial transformation is flattened into the earth.]


Action; streets of Mayfield; anywhere
[Thundering up the streets on eight golden wheels is a creature Mayfield has never seen before--a 7 foot tall monstrosity with pointed ears, eyes as solid pink as those of an albino rabbit. His teeth are a dental nightmare that protrude beyond his lips with tusk-like fangs. Vehicles litter the streets, left behind by their zombified drivers. Slugger flips them out of the way like toys. Any zombie foolish enough to be in his path will be crushed to a fine paste beneath his oversized bat.

He's scouring the town and if he doesn't find what he's looking for soon, he will approach half the height of a telephone pole.]

726 Anderson Lane; Saturday morning
[Every morning, a row of fresh milk bottles greets the first resident to step foot out onto the front porch of 726 Anderson Lane. Today, the foot belongs to Slugger. After witnessing firsthand what sort of punishment awaited those who didn't go along with the Milkman's latest folly, he's decided that straight-up drinking the milk is less dangerous than the alternative.  Not so much for himself but for his "family", whom he would surely massacre in a heartbeat along with a good section of Mayfield if he were droned, and Slugger much preferred to do his murdering while in his right mind.  


Picking up a bottle, he uncaps it, smells it, dips a finger into it experimentally. Something sharp pricks his skin below the milk's surface. This bottle may as well have his name written all over it. Slugger takes a seat on the steps and silently braces himself before raising the bottle to his lips and tipping it back. 



It takes him a long time to finish the bottle because each time he takes a drink, his throat instantly swells to repair itself from the damage. Occasionally, he can't help but cough up and spit out a milky razor blade. Perhaps the worst part of it, aside from the pain of course, is the unsettling sensation of milk sloshing about in his insides whenever he moves and vague metallic clinking sounds. Luckily, he now has less than half a bottle left. With a resigned sigh, he begins to accept that this was possibly how life would be from now on in this town, this hell.]

[Slugger and Pokey, who've been droned for committing their first murder together, decide to do what bros do best and go on a camping trip. Backdated to the afternoon and evening directly following Black Mage's untimely death.

(A) 726 Anderson Lane
[Housemates are welcome to notice Slugger's unusually high spirits as he gathers up the necessary supplies for a camping trip: sleeping bag, lantern, marshmallows, food, etc. Closer inspection will reveal an ashy black substance on his pant leg and a lingering scent of smoke and burnt flesh that seems to follow him from place to place.]

(B) John Doe Park
[Two droned boys are setting up their tent and campfire in the park near the pond. Once enough sticks are gathered in a pile and the bonfire is started, there will be marshmallow roasting and bromance by the fire. Later on, possible ghost stories followed by a game of "what was that noise outside?" once they've retreated into their tent. (Possible posting order: you > Slugger > Pokey)]

(C) Park; early next morning
[While fast asleep in his sleeping bag, the droning begins to wear off. Soon, Slugger will awaken to find that his nightmare is actually a reality...]

[Filtered to nondroned members of K.N.D. and Legion of Doom. Each organization will receive its own filter and members will hear only the voices of those within their respective parties when replying. (If you are a kid or pet who would like to hear this message, assume requests for K.N.D. membership have been granted.) Members of Slugger's household, feel free to overhear or jump on another phone in the house.]

Reporting.

Samantha Achewood, also known as Jane Smith, is dead. A reliable source [Death, himself] believes her death is permanent. I don't know what happened, but on the last night she was alive, I saw something. 

I saw Jane Smith losing her mind in the street. I saw many people stop to speak with her. One was Police Chief Grady; he was the last to talk to her. I saw them vanish together. And the next day, I saw Jane Smith dead in the park.

That's all I know. Take note.

Around
[On a fine Friday morning, Slugger stands at the top of his driveway overlooking the perfect yard and perfect street in this perfect 1950s "utopia", and knows that this reality was born of someone else's delusional madness. He yawns. Well, better find some way to kill the time. Not looking back at the house on Anderson Lane, he rolls down the driveway on golden rollerblades and into the street, carrying his warped baseball bat at his side. Some of the drones, recognizing him as their paperboy, smile and wave at him as he passes. He either ignores them or waves back in a ridiculous parody of cheer. He's pretty sure he's killed a few of them at least a dozen times.

Today, Slugger decides he may as well try and find a place in Mayfield he's never been to before and grace it with his deplorable presence. One may spot him skating aimlessly around downtown Mayfield for a short time until he seems to hit on a more specific destination...]


Jacques' Roller Rink 
[The worn, wooden floors make for a relatively smooth skating surface. Slugger can be seen skating forwards, backwards, and sideways on the rink with surprising dexterity. He can also be seen swerving in front of drones and causing "accidents" in the rink. For his amusement, he's made a game of seeing how many people he can trip and knock over at a time. Clearly, he's a menace to society.]

[ phone | filtered from: drones ]

Are there any flamethrowers in Mayfield? How do I get one?

Unrelated, someone who has killed their target and is willing to talk, I have a question...


[ filtered to: Pokey ]

Pokey.

...

Pokey?


[ action | Slugger never thought he'd see the day when he would have to use the gift Susan had given him at Christmastime. The surface of the wooden bat was still polished and smooth. He never thought he'd lose his real bat again, either, along with everything else the town had restored to him. Or perhaps the security of having his powers had gone to his head and he simply hadn't wanted to think about other possibilities. Now, with nothing left---not even his golden bat, he wishes he'd thought of it more. Better preparation could have served him well, but for the time being, he'll have to depend on improvisation.]

(A) Backyard at Home; 726 Anderson
[A gunshot rings out from behind the house. Minimal investigation will lead you to find Slugger standing in the yard with his back to the house and a revolver aimed to the ground. On his face is a sheepish look, eyebrows raised and cheeks puffed out. Somewhere, there's a bullet embedded in the dirt.]

(B) A Range of Accessible Public Buildings (school, hospital, dime store, etc.)
[A single swing of his bat shatters the glass casing around a fire extinguisher. Slugger, wearing a protective baseball helmet and an identity-concealing cloth over the lower portion of his face, bolts toward the nearest exit with the extinguisher under his arm. However, there is no indication of a fire in sight.]

[ Today, Slugger is acting particularly unusual especially where it concerns the females in his life. For much of the day, he'll be busy with one thing or another...]

(A) Terezi's Room
[ His sister will find buckets of brand new delicious crayons and cartons of paint in her bedroom. That's right, Terezi. BUCKETS. And PAILS.]

(B) Around Mayfield / Your Yard
[ Somewhere Slugger has gleaned that ladies are fond of pretty things that smell nice. Or something. Wherever there is a flower to be picked, he is picking it. ]

(C) At Home; 726 Anderson
[ helping Edward with whatever menial chores Susan has saddled him with and/or assisting Edward with the stealing and transport of 30 lbs of chocolates. ]

(D) Backyard; 726 Anderson
[ Sitting in the backyard is a wooden picnic table just like the ones seen at the park. In fact, it is one of the picnic tables from the park. How he transfered it to his backyard will forever remain a mystery. At the moment he's brushing off the dust and leaves from it and trying to unravel the umbrella bisecting the table at its center.]

[ooc]  Slugger is mostly affected by his female housemates, but he'll also be affected by others that he's familiar with (more so if he likes you, less if he doesn't.) 

[ Mayfield has a new paperboy. One who would much rather beat you to death with your own newspaper than deliver it to you. And above all, he would personally like to bludgeon whomever is in charge of these ridiculous job assignments.]

[Phone | Unfiltered ]

I don't want to be a paperboy.

But if Mayfield wants its newspapers, then Mayfield will get its newspapers.

[Consider this a warning.]


[Action | Early the next morning, Slugger begins his paper route for the very first time. With his teleportation abilities restored, the task is simple enough. However, he's less than thrilled about doing a job he considers pointless to the absolute degree, so he will use the opportunity to both get his prank on and express his displeasure. Results may vary from unusual to disastrous...

(A) At 5:00 AM; there's a loud THUNK against your door/window/wall/roof. Outside on the front lawn, Slugger tosses a rolled-up newspaper into the air and bats it across the yard with his baseball bat, aiming for the house. Feel free to catch him doing it to your house or to someone else's.

(B) Have you ever woken up at 5:30 in the morning and felt like someone, or something, is watching you? There is. It's the paperboy, here to deliver your paper with an eerie, silent grin first thing in the morning. Alternatively, you may wake up to find a newspaper in your bed, lodged beneath your pillow, or strewn all over the room.

(C) Residents (drone and non-drone alike) awaken to find their newspapers in strange places and/or horribly dismembered. Comment to discover the whereabouts and condition of your newspaper! Note that the paperboy will probably be long gone by the time you find it.

(D) After getting droned for the next six hours for behaving like a miscreant, Slugger merrily goes door to door delivering the rest of the newspapers with a skip in his step and unnerving cheer. (I don't know what his route is, but assume you are on it!) ]

 [ ACTION  (locked)  |  502 Ricardo Street. Pokey's bedroom.  7:10 A.M.

The distant ominous sound invading Mayfield this morning has, by now, become a mere background noise. Relentless but ignorable. 

At the foot of the bed, a shadow resides as Pokey's drone sleeps unaware of the danger it's about to face upon waking, just as it had yesterday. And the day before that. And the day before that. And the day before that. Slaughtering Pokey's drone has become the ritual of the week for Slugger. He had grown tired of it many days ago but still continues to perform the duty like a necessary chore. 

Without a sound, the shadow begins to move closer... ]

 [ Phone |  Incoming transmission. Caller has but one question for the residents of Mayfield and is awaiting answers with paper and pencil at the ready. ...Caller may also be doodling pictures of Lex Luthor in various unflattering toupees as he waits.]


Are there ways to stop dreaming?

...

[ On this ridiculous holiday, a boy and his baseball bat can be found in one (or more) of the following scenarios: 

a)  in school wondering why he's being forced to cut out these stupid paper hearts. Do they honestly expect him to do this all day and then pass this stuff around? He's so ready to ditch school altogether. He may try to seek refuge at the high school or under a teacher's desk.

b) ditching school altogether. Being around other people "his age" (at least in appearance) has been getting on his nerves lately for reasons that remain inexplicable...

c) at home; also, leaving home. People seem to be acting weird everywhere he goes. Is it only his house or is it the whole town? He's on a mission to find out... possibly by "observing" other residents.

d) stalking "observing" other residents. The targets of said "observations" have started to trend toward the young and female variety (with some possible anomalies). ]

[Phone | unfiltered]

Mr. Liebert, you have a book for me?


[Action |  726 Anderson Lane.  After the call has been made, Slugger awaits the arrival of his schoolteacher, much to the soon-to-be-dismay of Edward.

[Also action |  That evening, there comes a knock on the door at 1451 Mitchell Road. If no one should answer, Slugger will do the honorable thing and invite himself in by stepping right through the front door.]

 [ action |  The steps outside 726 Anderson Lane

Following this... ]

  ( One Of These )

[Slugger cautiously makes his way down the stairs and into the living room, stepping around and over the many, many cats that have taken sudden residence in the house. A certain skeletal cat-lover comes to mind, but when Slugger reaches the living room, Death is nowhere around. Neither is Eddie or Susan.

He's about to go search for them when something catches his eye. Beneath the Christmas tree is a pair of golden inline skates -- his inline skates -- with a note attached. It's suspicious, but after examining the skates and putting his hands inside, he finds nothing wrong with them. Once he's got them on his feet, it feels so good to be wearing them again that all his concerns vanish.

Obviously, he has to try them right away and dashes outside where he can be witnessed doing the following:

A) speeding blissfully up and down the street on his skates, taking delight in the rush of cold air as he swerves around parked cars and people alike.

B) kneeling doubled over in the snow, panting shallowly and clutching the back of his head for no apparent reason. Damn you, Mayfield, and your horrifying surprise catches!


C) trudging home through the snow in his socks, the pair of skates dangling from his hand.]

[Phone |  The telephone cord stretches from the kitchen all the way to the first step outside the door on the side of the house where, hopefully, this call will go unheard by other members of the household. "Christmas" and "gift-giving" are still very strange concepts in Slugger's mind.]


What do--

... ...

[Dammit, why is he even--  

Just. Spits it out.]    ...What do "mothers" like?


[Action |  While he ponders this, Slugger will be out shoveling snow off the driveway. It may look like a chore but he's actually doing this to uncover the icy death-trap and personal skating rink he created last week (which covers the entire driveway, the side-walk in front, and part of the street.)

And once the driveway is cleared, he'll be skidding up and down it -- he really does miss his skates. No, he does not care that he's about to cross into the direct trajectory of that oncoming vehicle.

SIDE-NOTE: One Edward Nigma may find that his socks have mysteriously gone missing...]

[Call Placement. Addressing: Mayfield. Filters: none.] 


Requesting advice... 

About teeth.  [He may be sounding a bit worried.]

Specifically, how do I... reattach one? 


[Oh, the horrors of dental maturation. Slugger doesn't understand and suspects this is some unnatural and cruel act of nature. 

ALSO, if you are one Edward Nigma, there may be something (not a tooth) hidden beneath your pillow. That something would happen to be a sheep's liver stolen from the local butcher shop. Consider it a "welcoming gift" from your new "son". Note that he has been courteous enough to wait only two days before stuffing it under there instead of the intended seven because he just couldn't contain his excitement.]

 Fellow residents of Mayfield, it has come to my attention that our town is overrun with evil. The Gouma... they have hidden themselves amongst our kind with hopes of capturing us as their hosts. But fear not, for it is my mission as the Holy Warrior to find and defeat them. 

Here me, Gouma of Mayfield, I will cleanse this town of your darkness!

[Slugger has ingested a sweet candy corn and is now patrolling the streets wearing a helmet, bed-sheet cape, and roller skates in search of evil entities he refers to as gouma. His "superpowers" allow him to see the aura of everyone he encounters and he will react according to the color of that individual's aura. 

A) You are glowing red -- you are a GOUMA -- and his task is to defeat you with his "holy sword", oh wretched one. 

B) You are glowing yellow. It is his duty to protect you, innocent villager. 

C) You are glowing blue, the color of princesses and magical sages, and he shall serve and protect you like the holy knight that he is.]

[ooc] Muns, choose the color of your character's aura.

 [Following the death of a dear "friend", Slugger is gradually making his way home while hauling what appears to be a sentry gun in-the-making. Those who happened to pass by 502 Ricardo Street earlier today might recognize it as one of Pokey Minch's bizarre "art" projects.

Unfortunately, the little blue putz wasn't clever enough to affix it with wheels for easy transport so the hauling process isn't a particularly quick one. For several blocks along the way to Anderson Lane, Slugger somehow manages to balance and carry it on his shoulders, stopping occasionally to put it down and push or drag it for a short distance. He's actually sweating from the effort and probably getting himself covered in black machine grease, yet he hasn't spoken a single complaint.]

 [An hour after midnight, after he and Susan were caught by Police Chief Grady hiding a fugitive in their home, and after being launched bodily through the air by Susan to make an escape, Slugger is out in the streets and yards of Mayfield sprinting at full speed with no intention of stopping until he reaches a certain destination.

That destination? The home of Death, Susan's grandfather. The old man will have his evening disturbed when Slugger appears in his house, panting and frightened and rambling incoherently about Susan, Grady, and a Russian. 

Anyone who manages to stop him along the way to Bill Door's home will not likely be able to stop him for very long. He has been reduced to a terrified animal scurrying for safety. How  humiliating.]

[The phone is picked up, a call is placed. The voice on the line is, at first, dangerously calm—]


[—only to become a sharply hissed whisper]



[After being droned, humiliated, and murdered (and ultimately dissected by his attackers), this is what tips him into a rage: his missing bat.]

( Stats | Regains ) ( CR )