singillatim | it must be that old evil spirit

it must be that old evil spirit

SEPTEMBER 2024 EVENT

PROMPT ONE — PAINFUL REMINDERS: An Aurora briefly connects the Interlopers to their homeworlds, and with it are able to receive items from home — but these ones will bring no comfort to them.

PROMPT TWO — THE ENEMY WITHIN: Strange and familiar occurrences begin in Milton and Lakeside, growing in frequency and danger for the Interlopers. Who can truly be trusted among their numbers?

PROMPT THREE — BAD BLOOD: The Forest Fighters finally come to Milton, and with it: they bring the yawning grave.

PAINFUL REMINDERS

WHEN: 5th - 9th of September.
WHERE: Everywhere.
CONTENT WARNINGS: potentially upsetting themes; themes of loneliness/isolation.

For many, the sight of the Aurora is now one they have become used to. There have been plenty of them over the year that has passed since the Interlopers first came to the Northern Territories. Often, they have been a sign of great danger, with plenty of unsettling and unnatural things happening when the skies light up. Other times they have been the herald of aid — a link between Interlopers and Enola, gifting them with abilities to help them survive in this world. There is no real knowing what kind of force the Aurora is, truly. And there is a tension that holds amongst the Interlopers as the day turns to night and there is the soft sound that grows louder.

The ethereal, high-pitched chorus of sounds, is difficult to place. Perhaps it sounds like voices, or discordant strings. And with it, the low-drone of electrical buzz — punctuated with the echoing pops and sharp cracks. The sky is alive with sound, and with it comes the swirling streaking of colour against the inky black of night, growing brighter and brighter as time goes on — greens, blues, pinks and purples shifting and dancing across the night. And much like every Aurora before this one, the electricals of the world come to life too. Homes, streetlamps, cars long-stranded in the snow. Man’s world comes alive, buzzing and flickering precariously.

But there are no ghosts like there once was a year ago. No terrible weather, no poisonous fog. If one could call it a ‘normal’ Aurora, that’s what it appears to be. But there is something else in amongst all the light and noise. Snatches of things: whispers of conversations, names called, laughter and tears.

You realise you recognise these voices. They are the voices of home. Perhaps you hear your mother, your siblings or friends. Whoever they are, you can hear them. And although they might not be able to hear you — for one brief night, the Aurora has connected you, bridged the gap between your world and this one. You may sit for a while, simply listening to the voices, relishing in hearing those from back home. If others join you, you will find yourself compelled to speak of them: to share in stories about those from back home — the connections you share with them.

It’s strange, though. These voices do not fill you with comfort or joy. Instead you are left with feelings of sadness, anger, and isolation. The Aurora has connected Interlopers, but now you feel so cut off from home, cut off from friends and loved ones — reminded of everything left behind. Everything you long for. Everything you have lost.

Something strange skips through the sky, a warping of the sound. It’s unsettling. Something feels... wrong, somehow.

It’s not just the voices that will remind you of this. Something else comes through the Aurora after that night. A small token will be brought through. Whatever the item may be, when you go to sleep and next wake, you will find said item. It may be placed on your bedside, on your desk or dining room table.

The item, you will find, will bring you a reminder of pain. Of sadness. Of horror. Perhaps it’s something you haven’t thought of in some time. Maybe it is something that has lingered in the back of your mind. Perhaps it is a part of you, waiting to be uncovered. A sign of something to come. A painful reminder of your past, or an ominous omen of your future.

THE ENEMY WITHIN

WHEN: The month of September.
WHERE: Everywhere.
CONTENT WARNINGS: kidnapping/attempted kidnapping; attempted murder; murder; vandalism; arson; assault; animal mutilation; corpse mutilation/manipulation/desecration; themes of peril/terror; possible character/npc injuries; possible character/npc death.

It starts with strange happenings at night, things left to be found by the next morning. Those within Lakeside many find themselves unsurprised by it, given their location, but the scenes found in Milton are a foreboding sight.

Mutilated bodies of animals: rabbits, ptarmigans, even deer — mangled and strewn about the streets, blood upon the snow. Some may awaken in the middle of the night to the sounds of their windows breaking, with houses on the Outskirts being targeted more than those in the middle of town. There is… a kind of unrest in the world.

It escalates.

Some may leave their home for the day and return in the evening to find the place trashed: items broken, precious foodstuffs thrown about the place and destroyed. Those within the Outskirts are once again particularly vulnerable, as are those within Lakeside. Fires are started in some of the abandoned buildings of Milton. Something, someone is targeting the Interlopers.

It is hard to pin-point who exactly, and it only puts the Interlopers on high alert. Nothing like this has never happened before. This is new, especially in Milton.

As the month progresses, the acts become more serious. Fires may be started in the middle of the night in Interlopers’ homes while they sleep. Some are attacked in the night, others are taken from their beds. Some killed within their very homes. Of the Interlopers that go missing, their mutilated remains may be found days later out in the wilds.

In Milton, soon enough, someone is bold enough to come out from the darkness, out from the gloom of the night. Interlopers may be attacked in broad daylight — by those they may recognise as newer Interlopers of the community, who appeared from the wilds: lost and shivering, with nowhere else to go. Some of them have been within Milton for a few months now.

Those in Lakeside will face something similar: Forest Talkers are making a move, rogue and isolated incidents — done with sabotaging attempts at hunting and taking a more direct approach.

They have no qualms about being captured or killed, only determined to get rid of as many of the Interlopers as they can. They whisper, they scream: “You don’t belong here. You should never have come here. It wants you gone, it wants us all gone. The end is here, it’s too late for any of us. Nature must run its course. The yawning grave has been opened.”

The attack is on two fronts: the first of Forest Talkers in Lakeside amplifying their actions. The second in Milton, enemies within the ranks of the Interlopers, Forest Talkers hiding as Interlopers.

Within Milton, newer Interlopers will likely be met with suspicion as being some of the Forest Fighters as a result of these individual acts of violence. As the numbers of Milton have been infiltrated, and it’s easy to have mistrust amongst those newer to the community. In-fighting is likely, and the entire town is stuck in some terrible, tense state — unsure of who to trust within their own numbers. In the days and weeks that follow, it remains like this. Acts of violence and vandalism — chaos and disorder.

BAD BLOOD

WHEN: The night of 27th - 28th September.
WHERE: Milton.
CONTENT WARNINGS: attempted murder; murder; vandalism; arson; assault; mentions of blood; themes of peril/terror; possible character/npc injuries; possible character death/npc death; actual NPC death.

Towards the end of the month, the moon is full. They call it the Harvest Moon, but colour seeps into it — oranges and reds: a blood moon, partially eclipsed. The night is calm and cloudless, but there’s an uneasy feeling in the night.

The earth groans, the rumble of another quake that’s plagued the Northern Territories since the beginning of August. It is the only warning Interlopers will get — if they may realise it as a warning. To some, when they look back, it’s a omen, a starting pistol.

They do not come through the Mines. Thanks to the efforts of Interlopers to guard the entrances of the Milton Mines, they know better. They come to town from the south, not the north.
The quakes of August and September have opened a new way from Lakeside to Milton. They are led by their Leader: a man dressed in white, a large deer skull upon his head. And while their numbers are small in comparison, they come armed and with the determination to get rid of the Interlopers once and for all. As they come into town, they launch their attack.

More fires will be set, Interlopers will be attacked with abandon. Shot at, stabbed, beaten. It is a mass execution. They will not stop until the Interlopers, or them, are dead.

Well, the majority of them. There are just under a dozen teenagers and younger people amongst their ranks who have shown hesitance toward violence in the past. Perhaps they can be reasoned with. Perhaps there may be a way to convince them to abandon their cause. There is fear in their eyes. Some of them do not want to die. They fear the yawning grave.

What will do you then, Interloper? Are you willing to fight for your life? Are you willing to take another’s to save your own, or a friends? Will you hide, or run? What choice will you make? The Forest Talkers have long since made their own choice. Now you must make yours.

It is another night of chaos on a town already scarred by the events of June. Interlopers will note two familiar faces in the fray: at some point during the night both Methuselah and Young Bill will arrive. While Methuselah will concentrate on aiding the wounded and trying to shelter Interlopers the best he can, Young Bill will help protect Interlopers from the Forest Talkers with his rifle in hand. But fortunately, it is just for one single night. Ammunition runs out, sides are switched, and people are killed. As dawn approaches, Forest Talker numbers dwindle. Either killed, incapacitated or defected. In the early morning light, bodies lie in the snow both Interloper and Forest Talker alike.

Those trying to hunt down the leader will see him slipping inside an empty cabin, heavily wounded. Following after him, they will find him settling himself down to kneel on the floor. The white of his tactical gear stained red with blood as it blooms from his wounds. Slowly, he removes the deer skull from his head to reveal a clean-shaven man in his late twenties with a shock of white-blond hair. His eyes are blue, calm.

He sets the skull down, panting and sweating. He is dying. He is not afraid.

“My name is Mallory, not that it matters now. We are dead, you and I.” he says softly. “We exist in a dying world.”

He is in much pain from his wounds. He moves again to sit cross-legged on the floor. A hand touches the bloodied fabric of his front and he laughs humourlessly.

“You don’t understand, do you? The end must come. That is the order of things. The end must come so the world can be reborn. That is how it’s always worked. When the world is swallowed, it will grow again from the earth.”

It is a story. The story of the Darkwalker. Some believe it to be the end of the world, but Young Bill had once said there is another telling of the tale. A creation myth. The Darkwalker swallows the world and returns to its slumber within the earth. Within it, everything its swallowed grows again and the world returns.

“We fought against man’s actions to ruin this place, not knowing our true purpose. The Devourer has shown me the truth, and I sought to put that into action.” His head tilts to one side. “The yawning grave is opened. Does new life not grow from the decay? It is a cycle. The grave and the cradle.”

He finds it difficult to breathe, but he presses on.

“You fight to live. You come here and you do not see what you are. You are only delaying the inevitable, perverting the true course. Prolonging the suffering. You are the Interlopers, you are not part of nature’s design. The Darkwalker does not want you here. And where it fails, we have tried to succeed.”

There’s another laugh, something catching in his throat. He coughs, blood bubbling from his lips.

“And failed. For now. The First Cursed cannot hold it forever. She, too, delays the inevitable." Even as he is dying, he still have the energy to sneer. He speaks of Enola. "A woman who plays at being a god. What right does she have? All must go into the Long Dark. ... As will I. Return me to the grave.”

Mallory’s head dips, his body sagging. He inhales once more and then stops.

FAQs

PAINFUL REMINDERS

1. Players must sign up for items. See the toplevel on the plotting post.

2. Items will face the same warps/nerfs as everything else that is brought into the game.

3. Items can be no bigger than something your character can reasonably carry.

4. While items do not have to belong to your character, there has to be a good reason why they’d receive such an item — ie. something related to your character.

THE ENEMY WITHIN

1. The Forest Talkers within Milton are a number of NPCs that have been pre-selected from NPCs who arrived in April and August. Not all of them will show their true intentions as the month goes on but will continue to stay hidden.

2. Two NPCs killed in the June Event were also Forest Talkers. … Good… job?

3. The following NPC Interlopers will out themselves as Forest Talkers at this stage: Devon Busswood; Rita Yee; Realm Lovejoy.

BAD BLOOD

1. Following the events of this prompt, Interlopers now have an additional way into Lakeside. It’s still rather dangerous: it’s through a partially collapsed cave system that ends into abandoned bunker on the Lakeside side. The game map will be marked accordingly in due course.

2. Some Interlopers may recognise a familiar face in the Forest Talker ranks: the man who was kidnapped by Interlopers previously in July has returned. Looks like he made good on his promise. He's come back to cause problems.

3. The following NPC Interlopers will out themselves as Forest Talkers during the attack: Jackie Blackmore; Ross Huguet; Jennifer Kitchen; Daniel Kresco.

4. As a reminder of numbers: around fifty Forest Talkers will show up for the attack.

5. There is an OOC vote on the fate of the remaining Forest Talkers, the link is here.

PLOTTING POST

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Unfortunately for Fitzjames, the first person he sees is Hickey. Hickey, returning home from a trek in the forest, two dead rabbits slung over his shoulder. Hickey, looking remarkably modern in his coat and trousers with one noticeable exception.

Hickey, who is totally wearing the boots he looted off of Fitzjames's corpse.

The question takes him aback mostly because why the hell would Fitzjames ask him this? After a moment, he answers, "What, that hum? That's the lamps, mate. It happens with every aurora."

Unfortunately, between the darkness, the Aurora and its resulting shadows, and the unfamiliar clothes, James with his still less than stellar vision doesn't recognize Hickey until it's too late. And now that he's started the conversation, he has to pretend like he'd meant to.

"Not that." The hum. Though good to know that part always happens, he supposes. "There's something else to--"

Wait. Those shoes look familiar, and for a moment he does think the low light and his vision problems--not to mention the possibilities of hallucinations--are playing a trick on him. But the lamp light shines against the distinctive gold lettering, and although he can't actually read them from this distance, that can't be a coincidence.

At least he manages not to follow the immediate instinct to look down and double check that he's wearing his own boots. He is. He doesn't have any other shoes and would have noticed if he were somehow without his boots.

There's silence, for a moment, and he's entirely put the voices out of his mind for now. But what the hell is he supposed to say about this? Maybe he is hallucinating. That would at least explain this nonsense.

"Your boots make quite a statement." Because either they are his, or Hickey's made them look like his, and either way there's a great deal to unpack there.

His boots? Why the hell would—ah. Wait. Yep, that explains it.

Hickey rolls his eyes, as if he's the offended party here. He raises his eyebrows at Fitzjames before pointing out, "You weren't using them back home. Might as well have made use of them myself. After all, foolish to let good boots go to waste."

A delicate way of saying 'we did some grave robbing,' but a way of saying it all the same.

...Oh. So they are his boots. Because... Hm.

To say he has a rush of confusing and conflicting feelings would be an understatement. He's not enthusiastic about Hickey knowing he'd died, and he's not delighted to hear he'd been graverobbed. He's also not too pleased--though more at himself than Hickey in this instance--that he understands the reasoning, and although the concept in general feels like it should be morally appalling, it... Isn't.

So again, silence hangs for a few seconds as he processes this, and the first thing that comes out is perhaps not the most proper response to have, but then again what would be?

"They cannot possibly fit you."

He was graverobbed for boots that can't possibly actually fit Hickey, and that is somehow the worst and most offensive thing about this.

Should Hickey feel smug about this? He kind of feels smug about this. Look at Fitzjames, dead and stripped of his something as base as his boots! Look at Crozier, captive back in the Arctic, bruised and bloody, entirely at Hickey's mercy. Shows how important those chains of command are! Shows how easily they fall apart!

He should feel smug. But honestly, he's not so sure if the smugness is real and genuine or something he knows he should feel. Because at the core of this, there were boots Fitzjames wasn't using, Hickey wanted boots, and Crozier's men were absolutely shit at burying a body.

Any sorting out complicated emotions is put on hold as Hickey points out, "Piss off, they fit perfectly fine!"

He's wearing three pairs of socks right now. But that's just because it's cold! It's not because Fitzjames's boots are a little too big!

James feels a distinct sense of satisfaction at that response, and is absolutely not convinced.

"There was no one else in your party who could've made better use of them?" Not that James would be much less offended if they'd gone to Tozer or something, but that isn't the point.

Sure there were people who could have used them. But that's not the point. Sure, they were boots Fitzjames wasn't using. But Hickey's not immune to the optics of it all. These are the captain's boots. Boots that he had been buried in, boots that were buried in a way where they tried to hide Fitzjames's corpse from prying eyes.

Look at your captain now, huh Crozier? Look at where Fitzjames with his morals ended up. Dead, and Hickey's got his boots.

"My shoes were falling apart," said with a little shrug, as if that's answer enough (which in Hickey's mind, it is). "Waste not, want not, yeah? I'm not going to step around in boots that are falling apart when there's a perfectly serviceable pair I can use."

The worst part of this--the worst part he's willing to admit to himself right now, anyway--is that he can't exactly argue with Hickey's logic. It makes sense. It's practical. And although they hadn't resorted to doing something similar in the main group, that's because they hadn't needed to; they'd had enough spare clothing to trade around to whoever needed it.

James had given his sweater to Dundy, gloves had been passed around between too many people to count, slops had become completely mismatched and they'd simply grabbed whatever was a close enough size. But if clothing had begun to run out, at least one person in command--and, if he's honest, it would likely have been James himself--would've almost certainly made the the decision not to bury necessary supplies with their owner.

But he's not about to say any of that. And he's also not about to say the other thing that comes to mind, which is that he hopes Hickey trips over his feet and breaks his leg.

Though that does remind him of something.

"Perhaps. But with terrain as treacherous as it is here, ill-fitting boots may be more a hindrance than a help. Haven't you already sustained an injury to your leg?"

He's been informed there had been an incident involving a stabbing.

"An injury that's healed up," Hickey lightly retorts.

And it's true: there's a scar and it's still tender in a few places, but on a whole, the stab wound in his leg has healed up. It still twinges occasionally, when Hickey is out and about too long, as if it resists and rejects the idea of exercise. But Fitzjames doesn't need to know that. Fitzjames doesn't need to know about any of his injuries.

"Anyway, I know what you're getting at. And no, you're not getting your boots back."

"Of course." He says it with pointedly fake geniality, clearly an 'I'm humoring you', but doesn't push the topic further. It could well be true, or it could not be, but James is all too aware that no matter the answer it doesn't necessarily mean anything. Even healed injuries can cause problems down the line.

James raises his eyebrows at the last comment, just as condescending as his tone had been. "A bold statement to make."

It isn't a threat, or even necessarily a challenge, just, you know. Saying. Sure, Hickey may not be willing to give the boots to him, but that doesn't mean James won't be getting them back if he decides he wants to.

"A true statement," Hickey says, with a little shrug and no hesitation. No, he's keeping those boots, thank you very much. It doesn't matter what Fitzjames thinks, it doesn't matter what he believes, Hickey's keeping these boots no matter what.

"What, you plan on prying them off my feet? You're better than that. 'S not going to happen."

Well that's an interesting response. It's good to know that that's apparently the impression he's made, and specifically that it's what Hickey--presumably, anyway, he could always be lying--thinks of him. It's potentially very useful, so he won't contradict it.

"For now." Whether or not he will do anything about this, he certainly doesn't plan on it at the moment, so it's easy enough to say. "I do have more pressing concerns than acquiring a secondary pair of boots." He has his priorities in order and is not at all bothered by the insult of this whole thing. Not at all.

Hickey raises an eyebrow, wry little smile on his face, as he points out, "If you need that secondary pair of boots, acquire it like how I acquired mine."

Aka 'steal them off a corpse.' Hickey is talking about grave robbing in a very casual manner as he muses, "After all, we've got a surplus. Something always happens that'll leave a few bodies in the wake."

If it's not whatever that was where everyone went a bit mental, it'll be the Darkwalker.

There are a whole host of things he dislikes about that response, from the fact that his own first inclination is to file the idea away for later, to the cavalier reference to how Hickey acquired his--James'--boots. But ultimately what stands out the most is a more practical issue.

"Is it that common an occurrence?" That they could just rely on it happening soon enough.

"Common enough," Hickey shrugs. "Past few months have been an outlier. But it seems like every month at least one person dies or gets taken by the Darkwalker. Fair number of them vanish into thin air, though."

Which really, is just inconsiderate. If you're going to die, at least die in a way where Hickey can loot the bodies! Don't just go off to who knows where!

James is far less bothered by the audacity of people disappearing without leaving a useful corpse behind than he is with the fact that he hasn't heard this yet. The Darkwalker, of course, he's heard quite a bit about, and not just from Hickey; the information all varies in detail, but for the most part it lines up, so he presumes it's generally true. But he hasn't heard about people just... Disappearing.

So he's a little suspicious of that, unsure if Hickey might be lying about it, but why would he? There could be a reason, especially with how Hickey seems to enjoy manipulating people, but he could also simply be telling the truth.

"They vanish." James repeats, flatly, but it's still clearly a question. He considers leaving it at that, seeing what Hickey might offer in response, but then decides to just ask directly. "Is there any reason to believe these disappearances can't simply be explained by mundane means, such as exposure?" People could just go missing in the wilderness very easily, after all. Maybe that's all that's happening, and 'vanish' had just been an unnecessarily ominous way of describing it.

"You find corpses with exposure," Hickey points out, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "I'm in the woods regularly, it's second nature to me by this point. I'd come across a corpse by now."

And based on Hickey's tone, he hasn't.

He's also talking about his navigating the forest with full confidence. Even before his gift, even before he could find himself going longer, being stronger than before, he spent his time exploring every nook and cranny he could find. The forest was the best chance for food. And Hickey wasn't going to go hungry again.

"That is not always true." James counters in the same tone, though while it's correct--bodies can become hidden in many ways, can end up under the snow and ice, can be taken by animals--he does have to concede that if that were the explanation for all the disappearances, then Hickey might have indeed found at least a few bodies. Particularly so if he's in the forest as much as he's claiming to be,

James has yet to venture into the woods much himself, as much as he'd like to explore them, because he does have enough sense--even if it pains him a bit--to not take that risk until he's recovered a little more. But Hickey seems to be legitimately knowledgeable about the place, and while he might be an unreliable source, an unreliable source is better than no source.

"There is nothing in the forest itself that might explain the disappearances?" Demon bears? Regular bears? Or more mundane threats, like sinkholes or gorges, or perhaps a dangerous river hidden somewhere?

Hickey has a feeling that Fitzjames isn't believing him. Which, that's to be expected. Why would Fitzjames? He's probably thinking that Hickey's vanished those bodies himself, claiming that they all disappeared while he uses them for his own dastardly deeds. Ridiculous. Hickey never thought of himself as dastardly, evil, all those things that he knows the rest of the men would lob at him. He's only thought of himself as a survivor.

"Yeah, the forest could explain one or two vanishing. But the actual number's probably closer to ten? Fifteen? Don't know for certain, all I know is it's been regular since I arrived here. A bear or a landslide can take out one or two people at once. It's less likely that it can take out fifteen people over the span of a year."

Hickey's keeping his tone light and conversational. If Fitzjames doesn't believe him, then that's his own problem. But Hickey knows what he's talking about.

It would be so much easier if he truly could just entirely disregard anything Hickey says, but unfortunately he is aware that at least some of it is probably true. If he--or anyone else, really--could just write Hickey off entirely as someone who never does anything useful, never knows what he's talking about, and never tells the truth, then it would be so much easier to handle him. And he wouldn't be nearly the potential threat he can be.

But that's not the case, and James is aware Hickey might indeed be telling the truth, and James can't afford to just write him off when he's giving what might be very useful information to be aware of. But he also can't trust it, because it could be a ploy of some sort, and that's the most frustrating thing in an entire list of frustrating things about Hickey. It's one of many reasons he'd been glad to leave dealing with him to Francis.

So he considers all of this a few moments, and although he doesn't exactly expect Hickey to know what he's about to ask, maybe he will. Particularly considering their previous conversation.

"Those that vanish, do their belongings remain?" Do things disappear with the people? Or, alternatively, if some things are missing and others aren't, is that perhaps a sign that the person had taken some things with them before setting off somewhere, and that does perhaps point to a mundane explanation?

"Now why do you think I would know that?" asks the man who robs graves and they both know it. Hickey has a small little smirk of a smile on his face before he continues with,

"Far as I can tell, their belongings remain. It's as if they went for a walk and never came back."

Hickey's talking about this in a nonchalant manner. It's weird, yes. It's troubling. But it's a weird troubling thing that hasn't affected him at the moment, so he's treating it with the casualness he feels it should deserve.

James entirely ignores that first comment and smirk, mostly because he finds it annoying and doesn't want to show that, focusing instead on the answer--and of course Hickey did indeed have an answer--to the question.

But he's not sure exactly what this answer really means. If everything is left behind, perhaps it does make sense that they'd just gone for a walk and gotten lost in the woods or elsewhere, even if it does seem unlikely that so many people would just disappear without a trace. Then again, if something more... Supernatural, in a sense, had happened, then there's no reason why possessions would be affected.

So, just like everything about this place, more questions than answered. But he supposes it's good to know, at least, that this is a possibility, and he'll have to ask others what they know about this subject and see how well it lines up with what Hickey has said.

"Well, this is all very interesting." James says, finally, in a tone indicating he's finished with this conversation. "You were going somewhere?" Before he'd stopped to answer James' question.

"Back to mine," Hickey says, as he adjusts his position so that Fitzjames can get a better look at the dead rabbits slung over his shoulder. After all, he's still got to take these apart for dinner and removing the pelts for later use.

"Dinner awaits."

And really? If Fitzjames is fine with the conversation, Hickey is too. It's not like he enjoys spending time and chatting with Fitzjames, after all. "I'll see you around." Because of course he will. They're in the same bloody town.

With a little nod, Hickey goes to head off.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

it must be that old evil spirit

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