fandomtownies | Town Hall, Late Friday Night

A general call had gone out - emails, and some texts, not that Ron's assistants had dared to tell him that - to gather up in Town Hall because there was a crisis and it needed to be addressed. And they needed everyone on the island to, well, address it.

Once some people had gathered up, Ron walked up to the stage with visible distaste. He wasn't fond of this part, okay?

Beside him, the official liaison from the Sheriff's Department looked just about as thrilled to be there. Tamsin had her arms crossed and she was glaring daggers at the back wall. Why did she have to be on duty for this?

"Hello," Ron said into the microphone. "We are being haunted."

A brief pause.

"We should fix that."

Another pause.

"Thank you."

Tamsin rolled her eyes and nudged him away from the microphone. "Yeah, we have a ghost problem," she said, "Just in case you didn't figure that out. Which I think you all did, going by the phone calls I've been getting. Anyway, I know some of you eggheads have been hitting the books and from what I'm hearing, you're actually finding stuff. So share stuff. And then some of you are going to go beat up stuff while we fix up some other stuff around here."

Ron cleared his throat.

Then he turned around and walked back into his office.

Tamsin rolled her eyes a second time.

"People who want to help by going out and beat up stuff, go stand over there," she said. "Anyone who wants to share extra information we don't have, get your ass up here. I'm hearing weird rumors flying around about rowan branches and it's psyching me out. Thanks."

[[ wait for the ocd... ]]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Y'know, if you think it's the occasion for it.

If this morning's encounter with Kenzi hadn't knocked Bo out of her Christmassy mood, listening to half a week's worth of radio reports she'd missed while she was off-island would certainly have done the trick.

Now? Arms not so full of shopping bags; instead they were crossed over her jacket as she listened grimly. Aside from the arms that were holstered at her hip; apparently you could load a sawed-off shotgun with rock salt shells just as easily as the regular kind.

Was Atton there, looking a little annoyed?

Maybe he was. Maybe.

This seemed like a pain in the ass.

Mingling was perhaps not the word you would use to describe what Samara was doing. Spying, perhaps. Or shifting invisibly in the cool, still water near the doorway and listening suspiciously to what this sudden conglomeration of frightened living folk were up to.

That was more than one word and also ended in a preposition, but give her a break; she was eight and hiding in a water cooler.

Aww, how cute. The living thought they were going to get rid of the dead.

Don't mind Johnny skulking around in the back, here. He liked skulking. And Eliot's body was very good at it.

Hannibal was here, his own visitor locked down as deep as he could be and protected with wards; they would have to be careful, but Bob had promised to help with the others, and they could hardly do that if they didn't know what was happening, could they?

Zoe was here, without Grace who was safely locked away at home. This was the kind of thing she was only partially equipped for by virtue of spending too much time around Winchesters, and she still wasn't sure what in the hell they should do. That was a lovely feeling, of course, so she might have looked a little stressed.

If you want to come deliver news in person; otherwise it'll have been delivered by handwavey.

Right. Elsa could do this. She and Cosette had already wandered into the preserve, after all. What was a little public speaking in the face of that?

"Rowan branches," she said, stepping up and taking a deep breath as she held one up for all to see. "Like this one, from those trees in the preserve with the red berries on them... they can be used as dowsing rods, to point toward sources of dark energy. You need to have some measure of magical or psychic power to be able to use it, but..."

Hnnngh. Nobody would care, but that didn't make it any easier to admit to having powers.

"So far, every time I've tried, it's pointed directly to Ingvar."

"This fell on my head in the library!" Okay, maybe not the strongest beginning, especially considering that the this in question -- which Rapunzel was proudly holding up for everyone to see -- was a copy of Go the Word-Rapunzel-Doesn't-Say-Oh-Her-Gosh to Sleep (http://www.amazon.com/Go-F-Sleep-Adam-Mansbach/dp/1617750255/ref=tmm_hrd_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&sr=&qid=), and all. But more to the point --

"And this fell out of it!" she added, brandishing the accompanying (http://iambicnut.com/rpg/misc/babyislandgtfts-front.jpg) paper (http://iambicnut.com/rpg/misc/babyislandgtfts-back.jpg) at the crowd. "Ms. Pryde translated it for me, and it's a Swedish lullaby, and someone changed some of the words to Ingvar."

And her conclusion, thus, was...still kind of weird? "So I think someone wants, um, the...other island to go to sleep. And isn't really into asking nicely."

"And I found this spell," Cosette spoke up, rustling the small stack of copies that she held in one hand. "It would seem to not only relieve the afflicted of being possessed and banish the spirits from this place, but see that such a thing won't happen again."

After all the information gets portioned out, a strike team is ~~pointed out randomly by Tamsin using a complex eenie miney moe system~~ carefully assembled. Meet up, y'all.

Raven wasn't much of a researcher -- that was far more her brother's forte -- but she was turning out to be pretty good at beating stuff up. And, hey, when the mayor himself actually showed up to tell people to do it, who was she to say no?

Raven was still very unsettled by the whole experience, and was more than a little jumpy because she still kept hearing the little girl singing. But it was giving way to determination. Her empathy could prove useful if part of the solution was indeed to lull the islet to sleep. She just had to keep a tight grip on her fear and anger.

"Okay, so apparently our job tomorrow is secure the possessed on... I don't know, holy ground," Tamsin said. "Then when we hear from the other team, we do this Kitchen Sink thing. Makes sense to me."

Mill about afterwards. Plan stuff. Or plan to get drunk.

Or maybe don't. She doesn't look like the picture of approachability, here.

Xtreme SP from me due to holiday-related reasons, alas.

Oh, dear lord. *facepalm* Is that final chant of protection what I think it is? LOL

O:-)

Town Hall, Late Friday Night

Mingle!

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Share Information!

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Strike Team!

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Mingling Afterwards!

Talk to Tamsin!

OOC

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