FYI The Author's notes wars in 'Role of the Dice' was partially Sean's idea.
But don't expect it too often.
From what the plot I have written up tells me, some of your OCs will be in a subplot in the story.
Scott walks back into the room, which had warmed up a bit. He sits himself upon the stool, scribbling a doodle of a mask. It had empty pits as eyes, with the last smoldering embers of a bonfire in place of pupils. Along the line of symmetry of the face below the eyes, was a mouth turned vertically. From the chin to the top of the head, was a brown slab of wood with the edges culminating in curved blades.
Suddenly, he could here a rat-atat-tat on the ventilation shaft walls. He glances over at the vent. A tiny glow eminated from deep within. He sets his writing pad aside, getting upon his knees and peering inside the Ventilation shaft.
From out of the light appeared his cellphone. It had disappeared after his run in with Disco bear, and he suspected if it hadn't fallen into a storm drain, Klepto Fedora and Lackie took it. But there it was.
"Scott Winters" called a voice from the vent. "Do you want your phone?"
In the Vent apparated a wolf-clown. "Wanna come play with me? A Game?"
"Parcheesi?" Scott asks sardonicly.
"NO! I mean like er... Balloon Animals?" he retorts.
"Lemme guest, next you're gonna be harrassing a little girl, begging her to play doctor." Scott spits. The Wolve's arm fired like a grappling hook, smashing through the Vent covering, wrapping a furry paw around Scott's neck. "I WILL EAT YOUR SOUL, CHILD. WE'RE YOU THE ASS THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO INTERVIEW ME!"
A Lump rises in his throat, and he cheeps, "Are you Mr. Pennywise?"
In a tone of voice totally contrary to the voice not even a minute ago, he says "Why yes, I am Griffin Pennywise. How are you doing today, sir?"
Scott wanted to laugh, but only uttered a cough. "You want to come into my worksop, I can't interview you in a vent."
"But you can certainly interview me in my place, it's much more spacious than your dank dwellings." Pennywise says.
Scott's eyes widen like saucers. "Where is your place?" The Arm once again lashes out, grabbing Scott's face pulling him into the vent.
DJ straightened his tie and dusted some lint of his suit. His usual attire was composed of purple an black 'street clothes' as his rich father would say. But he was on Business.
The Business in question was the dilapidated house at the corner of Mondo and Fatkat, the Matthew L. Saunders House. The house was in serious disrepair, the wooden walls appearing to sag like a fat man's stomach, and painted peeled off in strips. Many shingles were missing from the roof, now lay jutting from the yellow stalks of grass. The Quaint old windows had splintering cracks upon their panes. Upon a wind Vane, PigeonJesus was incarnated in black twisted iron. He glared with painted red eyes upon anyone entering the house.
There weren't many visitors to be intimidated by PigeonJesus's gaze. Everybody 'knew' the house was haunted by the spirits of the people who either disappeared or died in the house. A lot of people disappeared or died:
1) Three Construction workers perished upon building the house.
2) Bearkisses Disappeared February 4th,
3) Roxius leapt from the roof into her child's birthday party on february 10th, after a bad session in Court.
4) The Servant, Adder of The Pit, disappeared after sacrificing herself to Cthullu.
5) Finally, Matthew L Saunders shot himself on August 26, scribbling on his face 'dklfjdlksfj' before perishing.
DJ had been called in by his dad's friends' daughter, Flora, who was thinking of flipping the property over to a Satan Worshipper. Why he did not know. There was supposed to be one more evaluation of the house while it remained standing. Handy and 'The River' were also called in. Sniffles would've been choosen in place of DJ if it weren't for his habit of overcomplicating simple phrases.
Flora stood smiling at the door, beckoning DJ. She resembled, atleast superficially Petunia: But she was a fox, with spiked up headfur. She had a toothy smile on, as if to both threaten and greet her visitors.
"Welcome to The Matthew L Saunders House." she says in a falsetto voice.
"No need to sound so cheery, entering a place of Author's death." DJ snarked.
"I need to comfort myself in this house. I've seen pretty creepy digs as a popstar, but this blows all the others outta the water. And I don't feel Cheery." she barks, in a polar opposite tone.
He walks in to see a just as dilapidated, moldy, ugly livingroom. It was such a tragedy this place was goin to waste. Set up in the middle of the room was a plastic lawn table, with four plastic lawn one seat sat Handy, in the other, sat, or rather meditated, a Tan fox with purple jewelry of sorts. The River, as the tan fox was called, hovered less than an inch above the chair. Handy was watching in amazement.
There was a kettle of tea and four cups sitting upon a plastic tray. The Kettle was warm, but not steaming, and DJ poured himself a cup. He cradles it in his hand for a moment. Flora sits next to Handy, pouring herself a cup of tea.
DJ looks around. "So it's dank and creepy, but how exactly are you convinced the Devil is involved?" He asks sardonically, almost snickering at the blank faces of his peers. He sets his cup of tea on the cobweb covered coffee table off to the side.
A Knife comes from nowhere, slicing DJ's goggles in half, and jamming itself hilt-deep into the wall. An Angry British Teenager shouts at DJ "THAT IS BRAZILIAN WALNUT! USE A COASTER, DICK!"
If you do not know who Matthew L Saunders is, then you don't know HTF Fanfiction. Try 'SadlittleHTFfan' or 'CaveatCartoonShows' if you really don't know.
Good Luck to you, Leader among Authors.
