Everyone was acting weird, and it all happened after the bright flash of foggy light. Rachel was quite certain that whatever that light was, it was the cause of all this chaotic nonsense. Pirates, jesters, and gods, fantasy galore, a zombie hunter's delight, casualties would rise if nothing was done, Rachel could already see some of the zombies attacking people. It wasn't a good sign when people were actually bleeding from the zombie attacks, these were people, of course people she held no responsibility over, but if she was one of the few that could do something about it, she was going to help. Plus it was a bit cruel to just leave people to pain and misery, and most possibly death. It seemed she was the only one nearby that wasn't acting insane in one way or another.

Rachel decided that she was going to need help if she was going to solve this party dilemma, so she grabbed her spectacles from her bag and placed them in front of her eyes to get a better look at her surroundings. The night was going oddly enough as it was, she doubted anyone would question why a monster was wearing glasses. She had to find someone who could be reasoned with, everyone was insane in the nearby zone, but maybe she could find somebody that might believe her if she told them they were in costume. Or if not believe that, at least understand that something was wrong and that by helping Rachel, they would in turn be helping themselves. She looked around and could see several costumed people running around, but the most notable ones were the pirate, the red robed mage, the Greek goddess, and the two jesters.

The last two people seemed to be dressed as the Joker and Harley Quinn. She just turned around instantly after noticing that. "Probably not teh couple ter call an' reason with..." were the immediate words that came out of her mouth as she looked toward the pirate, mage, and goddess. The mage seemed to be wandering around with the goddess, so why not get two birds with one stone. Rachel wandered toward the two eventually recognizing the young girl as Athena, although the one dressed as the fantasy character was still a mystery to her. Rachel would just improvise to get their support, maybe after that she could get the pirate undertow, and possibly the two DC villains if she could think of a reason.

As she began her way toward Athena and the robed figure Rachel felt a sort of unease, if this didn't work she'd probably end up being attacked by costumed lunatics, hopefully they'd respond positively. She bit her tongue for a second as she quickly thought up something off the top of her head as she stepped forth. "Please 'elp me, Ah've been transformed into a 'ideous monster! Oi'm lost an' oi don't know what's 'appened, please 'elp!"

The kraken spake! True, its accent was a little muffled and expression peculiar, but still it was a good effort for a creature of the depths to be doing any speaking at all. While it didn’t answer her piratey enquiries (the scum, concealing her transgression and reason for the locker-treatment!) it seemed as if t’were searching for something. That was reasonable, as a beast controlled by the god of the seas once sent it must obey.

The lumbering bulk of fishy-flesh smelled uncharacteristically un-fishy. The captain frowned as the kraken shuffled towards a jack and lass both clad in odd garb. Perhaps they were from the pirate port of Singapore, or merchant traders from different waters. They bore a resemblance to an image she had once seen of heathen gods, but gods in the locker was a strange thought indeed. The shuffling undead were less so, more suited to the locker’s depths.

A green skinned creature (no doubt some form of sea-dwelling mini-monster) approached her, she was startled when it spoke, her fingers itching for a sword.

“Strong you must be. Much evil there is here.”

Heeding the creature’s warning as it shuffled away, aided by a cane, she swung her head back and forth, seeking a weapon. Finding a possibility in another pirate with two swords dangling from his belt she approached him cautiously.

“Ahoy, Jack. I be needin’ an iron, might I have ye spare?”

The pirate looked her over once before handing the sword to her with a frown.

“Here lass, ye’ll be needing it most like. The locker aint like what I ever heard.”

Nodding once in agreement and thanks she slipped the sword through her belt. Almost losing it as she had no belt she cursed and removed her hat and the long red strip holding her hair back. Re-donning her hat and tying the strip loosely about her waist she slung the sword into it and approached the kraken and the two mysteriously robed merchants.

“What ho, friends? The locker’s a beastly place, mightn’t ye have anything to barter a way out savvy? And ye, kraken, what price does your master hold on a pirates soul be lettin’ out of the old locker, eh?”

Raistlin didn't hear any footsteps following her. So, apparently his queen had decided that it was more prudent to remain behind. Did she suspect her of her treachery? No, surely such a thing was impossible. She had been utterly respectful of his Queen Takhisis, not letting out a single hint of her true thoughts and plottings. No, his queen could not suspect her, she surely had plots of her own. It was better this way anyway, to leave her behind. Better for Raistlin because she didn't have to worry about keeping up appearances.

The most important question was, of course, where should she go in order to find her artifact of power? Surely it would be well protected because all such artifacts were well protected. She looked around, leaning heavily on her staff and taking in the sights and sounds around her. The milling dead were everywhere but she could tell immediately that they were not worthy to guard any artifact of power. They were meandering and stumbling things with little or no semblance of intelligence. Dangerous, surely, should they be stupid enough to turn upon her, but not worthy to be guardians of much of anything. No, they were a mere obstacle in her way, something to be avoided if at all possible.

That's when she spotted it, the path that most certainly led to the object of her greatest desires. The path was small and meandering and, peering down it, Raisltin could see that the further it went the more devastated the land around it became. Turning, he began walking down the path. Now this, certainly, was the sort of area an artifact of power would be hidden in. All he had to do now was find it and defeat whatever guarding might be guarding it.

(OOC: Continued in: Terror-Fest: Devil's Lost Playground

Light spidered around the night. Non electric. Well, she guessed it wasn't electric anyway. From where she was standing she couldn't tell AC from DC.

Standing well within Lenna's radius, the events unfolding around Lori were... unbelievable. Hull showed up. Late. And not quite himself. Isabel went for him with gusto. Isabel didn't have gusto. Especially not for Hull. But now she was all over him.

And Kaitlyn. Sweet and adoring now was demanding. Amber she didn't know as well but she seemed to be... taking Kaitlyn's demands. From what she understood the girl was meek, but this was reaching a level of absurdity that no Halloween she'd even witnessed had.

Even the workers were getting into it. Maybe a bit too much with how they lurched toward herself and Lenna. Drooling. Reaching. Ready to gnaw... Isabel had dropped her mallet. Lori eyeballed it now. How much trouble would she be in if she whack-a-moled one of the too friendly staff zombies?

"So. I guess the guns are out then?" She shrugged to Lenna. Where did they even begin to untangle this mess?

Well, that was weird. Something with lights happened, and then, people started acting strange. Stranger than Americans usually act. Her eyes swung to Isabel, wandering off, then to the Amber girl and Kaitlyn.

"Hmm..." A large monstrous beast approached the two of them. Lenna crossed her arms, eyes narrowing. Another long 'hmmm' escaped her.

>> "So. I guess the guns are out then?"

Lenna's eyes hopped to Lori. "You think we need to get violent?" She asked. Well, it was getting a little Dawn of the Dead where they were. But these were average people, weren't they? Lenna snatched a croquet mallet from a nearby rich gentleman who'd suddenly found himself quite cross with everything around him. She looked around for something to bop. "If you say so... what do you think is going on?"

Truly, Shakespeare was right when he said that the world was a stage. This humble graveyard could stand on even footing with Broadway when the Zombie Master's unwitting actors took part in his own... special brand of method acting, with emotions so real and so intense that the sophisticated onlooker couldn't help but be enthralled. Take, for example, his minions' latest meal: the woman was wearing cat ears, of all things, with an accompanying tail and an outfit of a rather revealing nature. So much exposed flesh for mens' eyes and undead men to feast upon.

As said undead men approached her, she hissed and bared her teeth like fangs, readying her manicured claws to defend herself. She might as well have been trying to intimidate a bunch of rocks; the zombies kept lumbering towards her, unfazed. The look on her painted face as she realized how truly lifeless these automatons were? Language, with its limitations, has no way to adequately describe such magnificent nuances of feeling and thought. One had to be in the priviledged postion of the Zombie Master to truly comprehend them.

When they surrounded her, and when they laid hands on her, she fought with more ferocity than any professional actor could hope to portray. The adrenaline coursing through her veins, the frenzy with which she tried to avoid her fate, and the terrified hopelessness she displayed as they finally had her pinned; all of these things were real, tangible, exquisite. Blood-curdling screams such as hers were the lifeblood of the Master's unlife, reaching a climax as one zombies' rotten teeth slowly approached her awating neck.

This was it! This wa--

CRACKOOM!!

What. Was that sound? With a thought, the Zombie Master ordered his minions to relinquish the injured catgirl and follow him to investigate.

Hopefully, we'll get to see something fun.

- - -

Athena's servant had abandoned her, his footsteps going unnoticed in the undead-induced chaos. Not that the goddess needed this companion for anything. In fact, she found the idea of a mortal suggesting things to her more than a little insulting.

Leaving was a good idea, but the deity certainly wasn't going to follow her around. Before she could get very far, she heard a voice over the cacophony of moans and screams:

>>"Please 'elp me, Ah've been transformed into a 'ideous monster! Oi'm lost an' oi don't know what's 'appened, please 'elp!"

What an absolutely atrocious accent. Turning away from the sight of her departing red-robed servant, Athena beheld a creature that was almost even more hideous than its accent, resembling something from the deepest waters of her uncle Poseidon's lair, only larger, muscular, and able to stand, talk, and salivate on dry land. The excessive salivating seemed especially offensive to the goddess's sensibilities.

In spite of, or perhaps because of these physical defects, the deity took pity on the monstrous mortal. Pointing her spear at it, she intended to use her inherent godly abilities to turn the creature back into its original form. Instead, POP! Her mighty spear turned into a pile of warped chunks of plastic that fell to her feet.

She stared at the plastic bits in disbelief, then glared at the monster's eerie blue eyes. This must have somehow been its fault. Some kind of trick. The deity stormed away angrily. For that, the monster could stay monstrous forever.

After Athena had covered a good distance, an undead abomination dared to lay a hand on her. Moments later, that zombie, and everyone else nearby, living or undead, were knocked to the ground, in varying states of unconsciousness, pain, and disorientation. Athena kept walking. Goddesses such as her have nifty tricks up their sleeves, like blasting everything away from themselves. If only tricks like this didn't tend to make divine ears ring so much...

(Continued for Kaitlyn in in Dr. Moreau's Creature Zoo.)

What to do? What to do? What to do?

That was indeed the question, yet how could one ever hope to decide in the midst of such mundane mobocracy? It was embarrassing quite honestly, clearly none of the fools had any idea how to appropriately express the spirit of Halloween. They tried, oh by all means they tried! Certainly no one could doubt the enthusiasm of those garbed as the living dead as they feasted upon those around them with gusto but still, it lacked a certain...something.

Strolling amongst the woefully inept chaos with his habitual brash gait the joker weaved almost nonchalantly through the meager medley, an almost paternal light in his eyes as his gaze swept the scene around him as he endeavored to discern where best his talents could be employed to properly elevate the prosaic proceedings to a media worthy position. The Gotham Globe would be a good target, it had been some time since he'd last graced their front page, the editors had been far too busy running that rubbish about Harley and Ivy, it was high time they were reminded who held the leading role!

It would be difficult though, he didn't have any of his usual inventory; no knives, gag flowers, hand buzzers, exploding cigars, laughing gas, even his harpoon gun was missing! How could comedy genius such as himself be expected to work under such primitive conditions?! Admittedly he had a flar for extemporization but still, this was positively barbaric.

A sigh escaped violaceously clad figure as he shook his head at the appalling state of affairs a sense of weariness descending upon him. The despondency however was not sufficient for him to pass up the opportunity to stick out his cane and trip a passing corpulent ninja attempting to desperately attempting to outpace his undead pursuers. "People are so inconsiderate these days." A swift strike of the can to knee. "Not everyone enjoys fast food you know, especially if it's-"

The anarchist's viridian haired head whipped round as his noxious emerald eyes hastily traced the column smoke which had caught his attention. A maniacal grin stretched across his sallow features when his gaze fixed upon the site of a garishly decorated cooking stall which was rapidly going up in flames, presumably in spite of the efforts of two toasty, inert, apron clad figures occasionally visible inside amongst the smoke. "..undercooked."

This had potential.

"Puddin'!"[/color]

A bouncing bundle of black and crimson descended upon the king of clowns before he had time to even twitch or shudder at the ignoble moniker. Granted the girl was a little dim but honestly there were so many more fitting titles she could use and she'd had ample time to think of them while she'd been away. On that note where the hell had the useless girl been? Off gallivanting again no doubt, giving no thought to how she could properly contribute to his work. She had far too long a leash these days why did he even put up with her? Clearly some discipline was needed.

Moving with a speed which belied his ostentatious appearance, the Joker calmly placed one foot to the side and pivoted away from the overly energetic figure rushing towards him. At the same time, he lashed out with his polished sword stick and caught the masked ingénue in the side with sufficient force to spin the clueless gamine, causing her to land on her shapely rear end, abruptly bringing attention to the young woman's front as all of her energy swiftly seemed to condense into the girls two rather prominent assets.

Well, perhaps the girl wasn't entirely useless; she could be handy for... this and that.

Shifting his gaze momentarily back to the burning stall the Joker eyed the glass display and window set into the side door before turning back to his own personal little jester, whose head still appeared to be spinning slightly. "Tsk tsk, Harley girl I've told you before; you can't just go sneaking up on me like that, there's no telling what I'll do."

Yanking the girl to her feet the demented comedian made a short show of brushing the young gamine down, possibly concentrating somewhat more on certain areas than others, before then sweeping an arm majestically over her shoulder and guiding the witless ingénue towards the burning stall. "I'm afraid though Harl, you're little screams given me quite the headache and so I simply cannot think properly. Don't you worry though, your mans got it all figured out; I know just how you can help me."

They stepped up to side door and without a further word the Joker grasped the back of Harley's head and rammed it through the glass sheet. "Behold, the pane is gone." Reaching an arm through the broken window to unlock door the Joker swiftly stepped through the smoke and approached what remained of the grill.

"I've always been a fan of pro-pain. HAHAHAHA!"

"Oop!" Suddenly there was no Clown Prince in her path to cling to. Harley's arms began to windmill in an attempt to regain her balance as the purple-clad figure pivoted away from her. She hadn't entirely lost her balance just yet. With a little over-correction she could manage to stay on her feet and perhaps still get in that hug she'd been aiming for.

"Oomph!" And down she went. Hard. A whimper escaped as the pavement caught her and sent a sharp pain up through her tail bone and elbows as they struck the ground. Her head snapped back and then forward again with the momentum but thankfully she'd been able to remain propped up enough so her skull didn't meet the pavement as well.

"Owwie,"she groaned before she was hoisted back up and brushed off almost as quickly as she'd been dropped. "Sorry Mistah J," she offered, blinking heavily for a minute to try and stop the park from tilting in her vision. Her rear stung painfully, but she knew it had been and accident. Her Puddin' wouldn't hurt her like that intentionally. Like he said, she shouldn't have surprised him like that. She'd have to give him a little more warning next time.

Of course, she forgave him the accident immediately, especially when he so lovingly dropped his arm over her and ushered her along with him. See? He really did care. It was the little things like this that told her so. With a big smile and a little sigh she snuggled up as close to his ribs as she could get while still being able to walk without getting in his way. They made such a lovely couple.

However, her grin faded as he mentioned the headache she'd given him. "Oh dear." First she surprised him, and now this. He'd forgive her, she as sure, but that didn't make her feel any less guilty. Maybe she'd make one of her famous banana cream pies when they got back to their hideout to make him feel better. Perhaps paired with another kind of dessert. That was sure to keep that smile plastered to his face, she was certain of it.

But before she could voice such offers, he claimed he already had a cure. "Oh goodie!" she replied, pleased that he wasn't upset with her. She hadn't meant to make his head ache, after all, just like he hadn't meant to shove her before. Forgive and forget.

Her pattern of thought was shattered at the same time the pane of glass was. She'd been so content looking at his lovely purple jacket where he shoulder had pressed against it and his twistedly handsome features to pay any mind to where he'd been leading her.

She gave a surprised shout of pain as her face was used to break into the little cooking stand, blood spattering from her split lower lip and a few smaller cuts along the bridge of her nose and a cheek bone. She was lucky nothing had done any damage to her eyes.

Reflexively she wheeled back away from the source of her pain, unintentionally making room for the Joker to reach through the hole in the glass and let himself in as she grasped for some kind of purchase against the wall of the little stand. Leaning a shoulder against it she tentatively touched her lip, wincing at the pain that followed.

"I think I just became a fan of charcoal," she whimpered as she looked back to locate her beau through the doorway where smoke was starting to pour out. She couldn't hep but smile as she watched him go about his work, though it strained her already hurting lip.

It had to have been another accident. He'd probably meant to put his fist through the glass but instead caught her head in his haste. The little ears on her hood could get in the way sometimes after all. He probably just hadn't lifted his arm quite high enough to clear them. Forgiven. Forgotten.

"So what's the plan, boss man?" she questioned as she moved away from the wall and poked her head into the now unobstructed doorway. "What are we gonna do with a busted grill and a pair of overcooked turkeys?"

A morbid chorus of scream and moans continued to colour the night air with their sinister tones, providing a most felicitous ambience for the gruesome scene unfolding under flickering lamplight of the nebulous night sky, casting a myriad of obscure yet macabre shadows against the earth and the structures atop it as the surging horde of humanity, if such it could be called, attempted to flee, fight and feed all at once in a delicious fete of chaos, panic and death.

Still, those with a certain set of mind would profess most strongly that such a treat should never be served cold.

Standing proudly inside the blazing stall, the Jokers demented grin stretched wide as he repeatedly steepled his fingers in a manner of profound puppy kicking evil as his venomous emerald eyes beheld what lay before him in the burning, noxious wreckage. A contented sigh escaped waxen crimson lips of the violaceously garbed madman; it was all so perfect, everything he required had been provided for him, truly he was blessed.

"Oh-oh God! No! Ahh!"[/color]

The strangled scream of an unknown soul echoed throughout the stall and morbid jesters demented grin grew even wider as a low chuckle rumbled in his throat even as his gloved hands reached out to take what he required . "Heh, god. As if he had the imagination for this!" A sweeping arm combine with an abrupt pirouette took in the entirety of the cramped blazing stand. "Alright let's see here, safety first of course; where's that fire extinguisher?"Absently the Joker hefted the crimson canister before swinging it at a determined, yet mindless Godzilla clad individual attempting to claw him through the open serving window before then attending to the flames.

"Very good, now they must have a spare apron here somewhere, aha! Now we just need a grill, check! And- ooh, is that Styrofoam? It is!"

In the midst of his vibrant cheer and excitement the deranged comedian struck out with his ebony cane, catching a poorly attired zombie across the temple causing the ill dressed corpse to collapse and fall from the raised serving window it had been attempting to climb through. "Patience good people, I'll be with you in but a moment."

"So what's the plan, boss man? What are we gonna do with a busted grill and a pair of overcooked turkeys?"[/color]

Glancing back at his shapely companion the Joker raised his gaze up to her quizzical expression after but a moment and indulged her with his habitual psychotic grin and a manic response on the tip of his tongue just as yet another poorly crafted child of the undead flailed against the serving window, and the king clowns demeanor altered in an instant as he whirled round and struck out with his cane once more. "Can you cretins not read!" The Jokers indignant outcry was followed by a sweeping gesture towards his recently adorned apron. "Don't mess with the chef! Harley! Teach this useless rabble some patience!"

Eager to please his voluptuous partner in crime dashed out to from of the smoldering stall, leaving the subject of her adoration with at least a shadow of peace and allowing him to return to his unhinged machinations. "Alright, this attaches here, that wraps around like so, the Styrofoam goes there, hmm... gaah! Why is there never any ducktape when you, wait here we go, though now that I think about it bungee cords would-"

The Joker paused, an expression of utter shock dancing across his pale face as he glanced down at the bungee cords in his right hand. The hand which, less than a second ago had held been holding ducktape. "Well, that's... handy."

A moments silence passed as the comedic killer searched for something more. "...extremit-ly."

Raising his free hand the joker pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes."I must be coming down with something, I usually have a better grasp on things."

--

It can be surprising at times what one is capable of when they actually put their mind to it and completely ignore distraction. For some this has resulted in exquisite works of art, some manage to master their fear while others, well...

"You know, a damned man once said a little ingenuity goes a long way, while a mad man once claimed that it is better to light a candle than curse the darkness. Fine statements, truly, but in my mind they've always lacked... ambition."

A gout of flame followed the words and the night became just that little bit brighter.

Harley didn't like it inside the smoking vehicle. As much as she enjoyed helping her Clown Prince of Crime carve a path of mayhem though the Park, the smell of burning human flesh never became any more tolerable or pleasant. Mix that smell in with all the smoke and it was increasingly hard to breathe. It was a good thing there was an open door and window otherwise they wouldn't have been able to occupy the van for more than a minute. She had to resist the urge to grind her fists into her eyes, though, all the moisture in he air rapidly evaporating and irritating her as they dried out the contacts she didn't know she was wearing.

Rather than indulging in rubbing her eyes, she was left blinking rather heavily and squinting into the smoky interior, watching her Sweetie don his chef's accessories, doing her best to smile approvingly and stop looking so distressed over the awful smell and the irritating smoke. Why couldn't he have occupied someplace more well ventilated. And less full of flesh craving little monsters.

With all that moaning and pounding and scrabbling, it was hard to keep all of her concentration on her Puddin', especially when some of them seemed so keen on gnawing at her ankles. With a swift kick to a little girl's pigtailed head, she skittered inside the van and slammed the door behind her, frowning and sticking her tongue out at the hoard outside the small window.

But before she had enough time to more properly admire her aproned Angel, he was already barking orders at her again, demanding that she clear the crowd so he'd have space to work. She gave a little sigh. He could be so delightfully forceful sometimes. A shame it usually required her to put space between him and herself in order to complete a task he set out for her.

"Aye, aye, Cap'n!" Rapidly she began pulling drawers out and rifling through their contents, looking for a little bit of an aid. She couldn't believe she'd lost track of her lovely mallet. It would have been extremely handy in such a situation. For the time being she'd just make due with a meat tenderizer, a sad replacement for the mallet that was at least ten times its size, but it would be fun tenderizing some skulls anyhow.

Slamming the drawer shut, she bounded back out the door she'd just recently closed, knocking a few kids on their rears as it swung open. She didn't think anything of stepping on them as she sauntered away from the vehicle, or of giving a few a swift kick if they tried to bite her. Creepy little things.

"Alright!" she started, pausing in front of the main crowd in front of the window, dropping the head of the tenderizer into her palm a few times, "You head the man! Kitchen's closed!"

Zombies were so easy. The minute someone started making noise and put themselves out in the open, the little shamblers always dragged themselves in that direction. People were so much easier to maul when they didn't run, though the screaming was sometimes enjoyable, and would be missed. Zombies don't scream.

With a grin she fell into a series of somersaults, putting herself right in the middle of the groaning hoard, landing on her hands and spinning, legs spread into a sort of split in order to strike out on either side of her as she spun and kicked in some zombie teeth before springing back onto her feet.

It was a shame she didn't have her real mallet. Or her cork gun. Or, even better, her bazooka. Ah well, she could make do with what she had. Like by swinging wide to her left and knocking in some guy's eye, followed by a quick fist to his gut. He fell and seemed to have difficulty getting up. Huh. Some zombie. Couldn't even get past a little injury to try and eat her brains. They were quite the delicacy. Too bad he'd miss out.

Punching, kicking, karate chopping, flipping and somersaulting. It felt good to stretch and to kick someone's rotting butt, but it was also a little unsettling to leave her Puddin' in that van with all those sharp objects and flammable substances, especially when she was in the middle of a bunch of zombies, who were bound to be a target of his at some point. She'd rather not be caught up in the line of fire.

In the least the undead seemed to be occupying themselves with their downed brethren, gnawing on whatever bits of flesh they could get. Must have been all that blood. But did zombies ever really eat each other? Or bleed? Hm. She'd worry about it later. If they were gnawing on each other, they weren't making with the biting in her direction.

Taking an opportunity during the minor lull in snapping teeth, she bounced up to the window where she could see her Prince working. "You almost done in there, Sweetums?" she called, gripping the edge of the window and nearly resting her chin on her fingers. "Our guests are goin' through their appetizers pretty fast."