Thursday, 2 August 2012

ThreeA ~ Adventure Kartel : The Ghastly Halloween Zombkin Two Pack.

'Every Halloween, the GHASTLY ZOMBKIN rises for one hour to claim its 31 victims ( that's more than one victim every two minutes for the math impaired ). The smell of sod, the grinding of teeth, yes its the ZOMBKIN ! Once a member of the BLACK RAINBOW band, now dead, well kinda... Once a year, (strangely on Halloween), Zombkin rises from his pumpkin patch to harvest folks and use their fetid bodies for fertilizer!

A (mis) interpretation:

Name: Samuel Myers.

Alias: The Ghastly Halloween Zombkin.

Age: 21 years old.

Affiliation: The Black Rainbow (former); Herald of All Hallows' Eve (current).

Std. armaments: The Lil' Wacko Jacko Zombkins; "The Manreaper" - Daemon weapon.

Abilities: Fear manipulation; hypnotism; mental shutdown; misdirection; summoning; elemental manipulation; regeneration; animation/reanimation; immortality.

Samuel "Sam" Myers is former friend of Tommy Mission, both growing up together in the Olive Creek orphanage. After the Ripper Nun reign of terror was brought to an end by the orphans led by Tommy, they continued to hang out together, forging a close, tight knitted circle of friendships with another fellow orphan, Anthonius Frusciante. Hanging out at the  local underground, hipster, indie club, the Slaughtered Lambs, they formed a short-lived band called the Black Rainbow, before various circumstances led to the dissolution of the three piece gothic, proto-punk band. Tommy goes on to setup his own record store and studio as well as his own band, the Missionary Position, while Anthonius formed, initially, a funk metal outfit known as the Red, Hot, Chilli Pussy, which later morphed into a death metal genre group, the Cloven Heart. Sam leaves the scene altogether and tries to form a more stable down to earth life. He also develops an affinity to grow giant pumpkins for competitions. Sam eventually saves up enough money to acquire a plot of land to grow the crops outside of New Andria. He becomes successful, and other than wholesale, Sam also ventured in opening side business which involves the usage of pumpkin - his McPumpkin chain of restaurants is one such success. The people of New Andria, including Baron von Sydow himself, praises Sam as one of the few young entrepreneur with a bright future (unlike that loafer Tommy, the Baron would often concludes).

However, one night in July of 1998, a massive weather change comes about and frost begins to form, follows by non-stop raining. Sam's pumpkins are destroyed and wiped out. His businesses soon crash and suffers from financial dire. His emotions and mental stability began to downward spiral.
On the night of 31st October 1998, a drunken Sam cussed and cursed the gods for abandoning him and accuse them of being jealous of his success. In anger, he grabbed a shovel and began to dig up and destroy the remaining pumpkins throughout the patches. Then Sam caught a glimpse of a stone carved figure. Upon contact, a voice in his head began to speak to him. The voice speaks of Samhain, of Oidhche Shamhna and the All Hallows' Eve. Sam's successes was partly due to its blessing of an ancient deity, Crom Cruach and for desecrating the pumpkin patches, Crom Cruach punished Myers by sucking out all his human physiology and absorbs his soul, turning him literally no more than an empty husk of dried flesh and bones. Crom then forced Myers to put on a pumpkin onto his head. It merged with Sam's' head, becoming a Jack-o'-Lantern lookalike, his entire body and skin turn as orange as a pumpkin. The Ghastly Halloween Zombkin is thus born.
With the pain of the transformation and horrific look, Sam succumbs to madness, laughed, danced and submitted fully to service of Crom Cruach. The god of fertility and sacrifice cursed Sam, subjecting him to an eternity of torment by sleeping within one of the pumpkin patch with only a single hour of awakening on October 31st each year. And on that day, Sam must sacrifice exactly thirty one children who do not observe Halloween tradition within an hour before midnight. 'You, formerly of Samuel Myers, are now the Herald of Samhain. You shall serves me as long as All Hallows' Eve endure. For dishonouring the harvest, you shall sleep for eternity within the soils, with only an hour of awakening, on the day of Halloween endures. You shall reap  exactly thirty one souls of youngling unbelievers for me without fail within the hour of awakening. You shall be reliant on the youngling fleshes to nourish yourself and the patches for every year. Failure to do so would result in immediate obliteration of your soul. And remember, you brought this upon yourself.' Crom Cruach bestowed to Sam, the Manreaper, a supernatural scythe that possesses sorcerous power to "reap" through any physical objects.
Thus, for the next three years, on every Halloween, thirty one children would be reported missing. The authorities of New Andria tried their best to resolve the cases, but all leads would ended up futile.
A mysterious fog would begins to form over the pumpkin patches as Halloween draws near. No one would go near the place, which the locals now call Sam's Damnation. Now the place is filled with untended pumpkins growing so densely around the entire area, with stagnant, foul pools of waters. Bounty hunters on the trail of the missing children who went there would often not return, and simply listed as missing or absconded by the Baron. He checked one of the ancient grimories within his Black Library, and comes to conclusion about the nature of the place and its sole inhabitant.
2001. Tommy sits on the red sofa. He looks at the clock. 15 minutes before 11pm. Halloween. He re-checks his gears - flash light, bottled gasoline, viral inoculators, an axe blessed with magic and inscribes with spells, a newly developed weed killers known as the Hurtilizer, a roll of barbwire and mitts. 'Its time. Let's roll,' JC said. Tommy and JC start up the dune buggy and heads toward Sam's Damnation. 'I can sense the foul stench of death. So many...,' JC said and shakes his head. And they sees the souls of the dead wandering freely on this night.
Invoking the Hand of Fate, Tommy locates the exact patch which the Zombkin is in hibernation, within soils fertilised with putrefied bodies of previously murdered children. He digs into the patch carefully, nasty as it is, manages to find a femur of unmistakeably belonging that to a children no older than nine. Skulls, bones, skeletons begin to emerge. A visibly emotional Tommy mutters, 'Just burn this damn place down.'
Suddenly, a hand reaches out from the foul soil and grasps Tommy. Tommy tries to shake the hand loose but the grip is so strong that when JC pulls Tommy away, the hand refuses to let go and out comes the Zombkin. 'Ah. Just in time for fertilising the pumpkins and watering them with the fresh crimson bloods of the young humes. And what a fine compost they make for myself and beloved pumpkins,' the Zombkin speaks in a voice filled with phlegm. His foul breath almost makes Tommy faint on the spot. And are those earthworms writhing within its pumpkin mouth? If there're things which would make Tommy jump out of his skinny jeans, worms are one of them. Ironic phobia for someone who makes a living out of spending most of his time destroying the walking dead. 'Let go, ya son of a pumpkin pie!' Tommy shouts. 'Oh, only after I put you through the grinder,' the Zombkin replies. 'Here's a grinder!' JC shouts as he delivers a roundhouse kick to the Zombkin that it flies a good several meters away. 'That's close. But darn it. My shirt. Torn. And its a gift from Lil Shadow,' Tommy said. 'You're about to be killed by a pumpkin head and all you care about is your shirt? You're..' WHOMP! JC drops to the ground as a wheel barrow hits him square in the head before he could finish his sentence. 'Oh f***',' Tommy stood there. JC's alive. Just knock out cold. So now its all up to Tommy to stop the child killing monster. Mano a mano. Might as well tells him to commit suicide there and then. 'Hang on, f*** face,' said Tommy as he suddenly noticed the tattered Black Rainbow tee on the Zombkin. 'Where you get that tee from? Are you a fan of my former band? Wanna autograph?' Tommy delivers a magic blast at the monster. 'I tell you when you're compost, Tommy,' the Zombkin replies as he graps his daemon scythe, the Manreaper and swings it towards Tommy. 'HAND OF FATE!' Tommy screams and the Manreaper misses. Both Tommy's zombified hands begin to light up as it draws energies from the surrounding area. He then unleashes a torrent of pure magic blast at the Zombkin, burning through its chest. But the hole closes up immediately. 'Foolish. You think that gonna stop me? I am the Herald of Samhain. And tonight is where my power rules over everything and everyone else!' the Zombkin gloats. 'Arise my Lil' Wacko O Jacko  Zombkins! Arise! Take this man child. Rip him up. Turn him into fertilizers. Compost for the Harvest God!' the Zombkin orders and suddenly, miniature versions of the Zombkin begin to emerge out of the ground. There are many. A quick glance says about twenty of them, at least, by Tommy. But he wouldn't wanna take any more chances. Tommy unleashes a second blast. A bigger blast. No, the biggest blast ever that the entire patch lighted up and incinerates, the little, devilsh so-called Lil Zombkins, burnt to crisp. Except for one which now chomping on an exhausted Tommy's leg. 'Argh! Why you little...,' PUNCH. Tommy drops to the ground after the Zombkin delivers a vicious left hook on him. 'What shall we do with 'em, boss?' the single remaining Lil Zombkin asks. 'To be honest, I don't know. Never kills an adult before,' the Zombkin replies. 'Thought I heard you wanna put 'em through the grinder?' the Lil Zombkin asks. 'Do I look like someone who owns a grinder? Where to git one? Do I even own the Yellow Pages? Even if I could, how would you expect an Acme Hardware store sales personal to react seeing me, a pumpkin head, asking for a grinder, ya dumb f***. And all within a frickin hour?' the Zombkin retorts angrily. 'But watda 'bout those other hunters lookin fer you last time?' the Lil Zombkin asks again. 'How da f*** do I know what happen to 'em? Maybe they got lost and die of hunger or disease. Maybe those Zombs from the Carrion City fell upon 'em. Or the 'bots. Who knows. Not moi 'kay?' the Zombkin getting agit. 'Boss, what time izit? Don't wanna miss the fertilising hour,' the Lil Zombkin said. 'F*** darn it! For someone who spent 364 days, and 23 hours surrounded by shitty smelling native soils, do I look like I would carry Casio with me?!!! One more question from you, I'll replace you as a compost!' the Zombkin screams. 'Now lets get rid these two lugs from the patch. Let's wrap 'em with those barbs they brought and bleed 'em dry', the Zombkin says. Something stirs in the foggy, foul air. 'Crom is gettin impatient...c'mon, be quick! We got thirty one kids to catch tonight!' the Zombkin orders. 'But why not just kill them now and turn 'em for nutrients?' the Lil Zombkin asks again. 'For the f***in last time,' the Zombkin said and simultaneously gives a kick to the Lil Zombkin, 'adults flesh would not fertilise the patch. It would poisons it. Only the innocence, and their souls, would appease Crom, and their nutritious, freshly stripped flesh would do!' as he continues and delivers another kick to the Lil Zombkin. 'Time's running out,' the Zombkin said. 'Yup. Time is running out. But for you!' JC said as he delivers a torrent of punches onto the Zombkin and pulps it in the process. But the Zombkin's face begins to regenerate from each injuries. 'JC, here!' Tommy said as he blasts the Lil Zombkin to pieces with his powers. JC pours the entire Hurtilizer weed killer onto the Zombkin. The effect is like pouring molecular acid on flesh. 'Ah shit...ARRRGGHHHH!!!!' the Zombkin screams. 'And here's some "Light My Fire" time,' JC said as he pours gasoline over Zombkin.  Tommy then lights up a Zippo and set the pumpkin head on fire. 'Burn, youse child killin' motherf*****!!!' a groggy Tommy said. The Zombkin burns and disintegrates before their eyes. The patch ground shakes and a daemonic entity emerges. This might or might not be Crom Cruach. 'Here it goes again. Leaves it to me, Tom,' JC said. 'Ain't gonna argue with you. All yours, old man,' Tommy wearily said. JC goes on a one on one fight with the grotesque looking beast with vines, horns and hunching feature. Deadly pumpkin vines and roots shoot out and grabs at JC but he prevails after several rounds of severe fighting.  'Who are you?! Are you the Son from the House of YHWH?!' the entity screamed as JC delivers a final blow to the monster which then dematerialises. 'You wish,' muttered JC.
Both Tommy and JC look on at the burning pumpkin patches. Tommy's mobile rings. "The Baron would like to remind both of you to make sure that the fires do not get out of control. And has the situation been solve?' asked the voice on the other line. 'Tell the Guv, yes. And tell him to write the correct name and correct payment amount, aight?' said Tommy. 'I have a feelin that the bastard would return next year,' said JC. Tommy keeps quiet. His mind keeps going back to the moment where the Zombkin called out his name... 


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