sheep_game | Ritual 18 - Frankie, or: the Build-A-Beast Workshop

[ As the twilight hour begins on evening 52, a ghostly little lily sheep’s empty pupils abruptly fill in, and two bolt-shaped horns pop out of its head, shortly followed by a mustache. ]

I liiiiiiive!
Ah! What is the time! Where has my head been? Frankie! Frankie! We must get to work, there are quotas to fill, dreams to be dreamt, the dead to be–

...Frankie?
Fraaaaankie.

[ cups his hooves by his mouth and bellows: ]

Any Frankies around here! Any Frankies at all!?

[ The phantom outline of a wolf rises from the ground, yawning soundlessly. The sheep is aghast. ]

Well now Frankie where have you PUT yourself! How are we getting any work done when you do not have even paws? No, nonononono, this will not do! Ah! There is only one thing for it! Make way, make way!

[ the ghost sheep makes a beeline for the nearest barn, Thistle’s, floating right through the wall and inside.

He sticks his head in their fridge, hmmms, then floats to the sink. Gestures meaningfully to Frankie. Frankie turns the faucet.

It starts pouring blood, which the ghost sheep immediately dips its hooves in. ]

Oh, there we are, perfect perfect… now just get the little circle correct and– perfect perfect perfect! Ahem.

RIIIIIISE, WICKED DEMON OF THE DARKEST, DEEPEST, COLDEST DEPTHS…! RISE!

[ Thistle's fridge starts glowing icy blue, grows horns, a massive peal of thunder resounds over the pasture... and everyone participating is abruptly snatched up by spectral arms emerging from the nearest refrigerator that yank them in to a very chilly portal inside. ]

INTRO | ENDGAME MINGLE | FINAL PRIZES