Thread:VineyTheVine/@comment-34182043-20190527141113

You're at the outskirts of a nondescript medieval village, for reasons either unknown or characterised by an itching boredom for something to happen. A hut of brick and thatched roof is the first thing in your line of vision - moonlight passes through the thatched roofs, and they look like they're woven from silver thread. No candelights or lanterns interrupts the softness of the moon, and the sky wears stars as freckles.

Beside the hut is a pumpkin patch, and there appear to be two figures seated in it.

These idiots again, you think, despite having never seen them, ever. It's a reflex, probably.

Upon a closer look, they - a fairly tall figure and a fairly short one - are, naturally, all covered with mud and dirt and. . . surrounded by hopping, carved pumpkins. The shorter one is in the process of cleaning out a pumpkin, while talking loudly and quickly about "giving the founder statue a makeover with an orange head!" ("except it's not really an orange, but it's technically orange so who cares anyway!")

Interrupt their plans of taking over the world, one pumpkin at a time?

 