Scummies 2019 Ceremony

[Scummies]

[Scummies]

[Scummies]

December 31, 2019
10:12 PM

"Why am I wearing this again?"

The worst stood in the doorway, juggling a bottle of whiskey, four beers, two bags of pretzels, and a fresh tray of mozzarella sticks fresh from the oven. The booze and food completely failed to conceal his garish outfit, consisting of a purple leggings, a bright green jersey, red suspenders, and a rainbow-colored propeller hat. He staggered into the spacious main hall of the mountain chalet, nearly losing the bottle of Jack before Micc caught it, refilling his glass before passing it around. By the time the worst reached his own seat near the roaring hearth, he had likewise been relieved of his various burdens by the other members of the Mafiascum.net staff and SSC members. He set down the tray and cracked open the one beer remaining to him, only to have it snatched it away by Papa Zito, who passed over his empty in its stead.

"It's tradition," insisted MariaR around a mouthful of pretzel, "Every year when we have our New Year's party, the newbies wear those outfits and serve the snacks and drinks. We all did it. Right, guys?" A murmur of distracted assent ripples through the rest of the crowd, who are largely distracted by the endgame of the checkers tournament. This year, Zoraster had decided to hold the staff party at mith's cabin - or "chalet," as he insisted on calling it. They'd brought plenty of food and drinks, and had had lots of fun hiking and exploring the forest, even tossing the worst into the small lake a quarter mile down the slope. "Ducks are supposed to float in water!" Pine had yelled at the floundering newbie, only to be tossed in himself when reminded that wood

also

floats. The weather was unseasonably warm, almost unbearably so for this time of year, so the water had almost seemed refreshing rather than frigid. No one had paid it any mind, though, as most of them were already half blitzed anyway.

Once properly wrung out, the gang had trooped back up to the cabin (excuse me,

chalet

) only to find that, despite being well-provisioned, they'd completely neglected to bring any games. Davesaz suggested a few rounds of Mafia, but was immediately cut off by boos and thrown snack food, even an empty beer bottle flung by a very drunk Nexus. "We play Mafia all the time, Dave," chided xRECKONERx, "While we're together here, we should play a

real

game. One which requires wit, strategy, and shrewdness." Unfortunately, the only game they could scrounge up between mith's closets and the various cars and trucks they'd driven into the mountains was a battered old travel Checkers set. And so, a tournament of epic proportions began - PenguinPower declared Checkers an adjunct of the Newbie Queue, and quickly drew up a bracket. After a few rounds, it became clear that people were playing for keeps, and what had been a simple way to pass the time until the new year became an earnest (if still rather drunken) competition. As the bracket tightened, and most competitors were eliminated, the tension grew, and side bets started to spring up as to the winner.

"Hey Duckie," called xofelf, "Be a sweetheart and fetch another bottle of that white wine we found in the cellar?" The worst sighed and rolled his eyes, loathe to miss the final standoff between T-Bone's last remaining king and the small army of pawns Untrod Tripod was using to menace it. He dashed away, hoping to get back in time, but to no avail. He poured xofelf a glass, and one for himself, as the group excitedly discussed the climax where T-Bone had maneuvered UT into a triple jump before realizing it had been a trap to force him into a no-win corner.

"Alright, alright," said Zoraster, standing up, "I thought that since this was the end of a decade, we'd do something special. Kison?" At the pre-arranged signal, Kison rolled out an old film projector on a cart, the lower rack of which was piled high with dusty film canisters. " Kison and I have pulled some of the best clips of the decade for us to count down to midnight with. But first, a toast!" Zor stoops to pick up his glass, swaying a bit.

"Here's to the 2010s! May the next ten be bigger, better, and with friends new and old as good as the ones here tonight!"

"Hear, hear," cried the company, and all drained their glasses.

"Kison, play the first clip."

To be continued

[Scummies]

10:21 PM

"Click, click, click, clickclickclickclick..."

The old-style projector whirrs and ticks as it gradually spins up to speed, shining a grainy, flickering image onto an old sheet Shadoweh had found in the bunk room. Names and faces from years past appear on the wall, some of them long forgotten, others merely younger versions of those seen every day around the office. The first images on the screen depict people sitting around in a circle, with one shadowy figure walking around, tapping shoulders and telling people to close their eyes or bow their heads. As the montage progresses, the scenes become more an more outlandish. People dressed in monklike robes, exchanging fake money as they point fingers, recording themselves in dark corners, dancing to music with masks on their faces, ever more outlandish as the pictures flash by.

"Oh hey, it's Vi! And there's Magua...I wonder what he's up to now..." exclaims Papa Zito, "Hey, there's Varsoon...then Varsoon again," chimes in Nexus. "Zor...is that you? Your haircut back then looked stupid. Matter of fact, it still looks dumb today," grouches Untrod Tripod, still gloating over his tournament victory. "Yeah, well there's me, and I still look as fine now as I did last year," offers implosion, as his own face appears on the screen.

"Yes, well, I figured it was fitting to start a retrospective with looking back at the award that honors change," explains Zoraster, "Back when I won it in 2012, it was called 'Grr, Arg,' but the idea was the same. These days we call it 'Mad Scientist.' Sometimes we try things, and they don't work out. Sometimes they do. Every once in a while, though, new ideas completely revolutionize the game. That's still important."

Kison disengages the clip reel and discards it before putting on a new one.

[Scummies]

10:28 PM

"You know, my favorite part of Mafia has always

(hic)

been the stories."

Cephrir yawns a little as he closes the door to the outside, having recently tended to nature's call. The sudden draft makes the fire roar suddenly, flickering and dancing to new heights before settling down. "Yeah, yeah, I get into the game, too, but I'd play Normals if I wanted to be bored." He ducks a pretzel chucked at his head by implosion, and takes his seat, cracking a new beer as he does so.

"HEY!" the worst exclaims, "Why doesn't Cephrir have to wear this dumb outfit? He even came on to the SSC after I did!"

"Pipe down, new duck. Cephrir has history with the Scummies, he did his initiation years ago," Reck replies. The worst settles back down into his seat, mollified for the moment.

The projector rattles to life again, and displays images of figures in front of a crowd, gesticulating wildly. Performers don outlandish costumes and act out scenes of love and horror, drama and tragedy. An imperial throne room, a child's detective agency, a post-apocalyptic hellscape, even an abstract, futuristic technological paradise flash past in rapid succession before settling on the image of a pair of screenwriters at their typrewriters...

[Scummies]

10:35 PM

"That's all fluff, though."

PenguinPower sighed and rolled his eyes as he got up from the couch, his seat immediately stolen by Alisae. He scowled at the interloper while pouring another gin and tonic for himself, and flopped down on the rug by the fire. "Give me something interesting. I'm stuck with predictable Newbie games all the time. Show me something weird and clever."

"

You're

something weird and clever, Penguin," giggled Nexus, who'd been eliminated early from the checkers match and had resorted to drinking most of a bottle of tequila by himself, "Weeeeeeeeeird. That's a weird word. Weird."

"Hey!" cried the worst, his brightly-covered arm shooting up, "Why doesn't Nexus have to wear the outfit? He's a new DiscMod!"

Nexus sways to his feet, a haughty look on his face. "I," he began, "Am oldschool. I was a ListMod, yannow, and I..." The effect is ruined a bit when Nexus tries to spread his arms in a sweeping gesture, but overbalances and collapses back onto the couch...right on top of PenguinPower, who had promptly reclaimed his seat.

"Keep it down over there," Zoraster chides the group on the couch, "I think you'll like this one."

[Scummies]

10:46 PM

"Oh my god you're right, that's the biggest I've ever seen."

Fifteen pairs of eyes swivel around to the corner, where mastina and Pine are huddled around a laptop, the screen illuminating their faces in the otherwise-dim room. They glance up at the sudden movement, and Pine realizes quickly what, exactly, he'd just said. He grabs the laptop and turns it around, showing a game thread on Mafiascum.net. "Uhhhh, mastina was just showing me what she wrote while we were playing checkers. It's the longest goddamn wallpost I've ever decided to

not

read. She had to put it in three separate posts to dodge the character limit. Perverts."

A brief silence passes, broken only by the crackling fire on the hearth. Shadoweh's hand shoots up. "Ongoing game! Report, report! Move to ban Pine for discussing ongoing games!" The ListMods present all nod or voice agreement immediately.

Zoraster snickers. "Alright, alright. Pine, you're banned from all Mafia games until...uh, dawn, I guess? Mostly for making me want to wash out my brain with bleach."

He gestures for Kison to change the reel. "Got a brand new one for you guys, so let's get to it."

[Scummies]

10:54 PM

"That one was fun!"

The worst sets a big bowl of fresh popcorn down in MariaR's lap, and she continues, "I thought it was great. A doomed warrior, going down with the ship, all heroic-like. Fitting for that game." Back at the game table, T-Bone was insisting on a rematch against Untrod Tripod, and the latter was replying by picking up the pieces one by one and flicking them at his would-be opponent. Across the room, some of the Discussion Moderators were starting a game of Texas Hold 'Em with a deck of cards Nexus had found under the bookcase, while davesaz and cephrir were chatting earnestly about possible new Scummies for the upcoming year.

xofelf cleared her throat.

"Come on, Zor, what's next?" Maria asked, "We're losing some of the peanut gallery."

xofelf raised her hand politely.

"Well actually," Zor began, "It's time for - HEY. You three! No strip poker! This isn't that sort of party!"

xofelf stood up, waving for attention.

Micc grabbed the football he'd been tossing earlier and lobbed it in a high arc over the couch to implosion, who caught it deftly and sent it on to PrivateI.

"HEY"

The tumult in the room halted immediately at the sharp yell from the typically calm and friendly xofelf. The football sailed through Micc's hands, and Papa Zito sheepishly put his shirt back on.

"Ahem. If you would all take your seats, Zor has asked me to do the part about the Mashies. I'm delighted to be a part of the retreat this year, we usually do our own thing on the side. Ummmmm, I had a Powerpoint complete with fancy transitions and comic sans for you all, but we didn't have a projector for it, so you can all have this from memory." xofelf shuffles a few index cards and begins reciting, "Back in 2015 we had our first three awards, Best Mish Mash Game, Best Mish Mash Player, and Best Social Game. Our very first award for Large Social Game went out posthumously to Game of Thrones Survivor, and we’ve come a long way in the past few years. We have our own mods now, our area on the boards, and..." xofelf glances up as she starts to gush, and brushes a strand of hair back behind her ear. "...And your eyes are already glazing over. Kison? Roll the film."

[Scummies]

11:07 PM

"Thank you so much!"

Xofelf blushes as she makes her way back to her seat as the rest of the gathered staff claps and whistles for her speech. The disruption had the desired effect, though, and everyone drifted away from their distractions and gathered again around the old film projector as Zoraster steps back up in front of the crowd. Just as he winds up to speak again, though, the worst jumps to his feet.

"Hey now, what gives! Pine wasn't a mod before! Where's his hat and suspenders?"

A bit of muttering goes around the room at the worst's point, but davesaz leans forward and flicks the little propeller on the worst's hat. "The tree and I - and a bunch of the others - came on to the SSC last year. Class of '18, Duck. Get me a beer." The worst flinches away and scowls, but goes out to the porch refrigerator to get the drink anyway. As soon as he leaves the room, a round of chuckles is quickly suppressed.

"Guys, you've got to tell him sooner or later," chides Kison. Zoraster hands him the next video reel, shaking his head. "Nah, let him figure it out for himself. I think he's almost there."

After another round of drinks and refills, the projector plays again. This time, instead of a highlights reel of clever or innovative gameplay, names and faces flash across the screen of Scummers hard at work behind the scenes - Hoopla, The Fonz, and hitogoroshi discussing setup and design, Kison and Thesp hard at work coding improvements, wguerts toiling away in the mines of the wiki, SleepyKrew having done his job, and mith himself bouncing a happy baby on his knee. These and more who have volunteered their time to make the community a better place. Finally the film shifts to a mountain scene.

[Scummies]

11:20 PM

"It's getting late."

Scummers and staff members tried to stifle yawns as the hour wears on. Already PenguinPower snored lightly on the couch, a drowsy Nexus's head nodding onto his shoulder. The film reel suddenly reached its end, flapping loudly against the projector and startling them back to wakefulness. Mastina jumped up from where she was sitting, upending a perfectly good (if mostly empty) bottle of gin onto Shadoweh's legs. "Hey, watch it!"

"Ahem," said xRECKONERx, clearing his throat, "My turn."

Reck walked quickly up to the projector and replaced the old reel himself with a compact one from his pocket. "Okay, chumps, listen up. I know a lot of you only really pay attention to the Mafia side of things, and even more are pretending to retire from the game into the discussion threads, but Large Social Games - LSGs - are a big part of our bread and butter. There's a whole other playerbase for them out there, and they're great people. Come play a round of Survivor some time, maybe you'll see what I mean."

"Right. Roll the clip."

[Scummies]

11:33 PM

"Quit screwing with the damn TV!"

Midnight was approaching, so T-Bone and Micc were trying to hook the old television up while mastina and Cephrir yelled out "helpful" observations and suggestions. "Jiggle the cord!" "Adjust the input!" "Turn it off and on again! No, again!" "Does it have rabbit ears? Tell me it has rabbit ears in the back!" Eventually, the listmods give up in disgust, muttering about wanting to watch the ball drop.

"Whose balls have yet to drop, dears?" Xofelf had by now finished the entire bottle of wine fetched for her, and was well into her second. "Duckie, darling, I think they're talking about you..."

Kison cleared out the previous film reel and installed the next, nodding at Zor to continue. "Okay, folks. Thank you, Reck, that was great. Just two more before we break to watch the balls - I mean the

ball

drop at midnight. Ball. Not balls. Ahem. That last shot may have been a mistake. We've got another new one, so...let's roll tape."

[Scummies]

11:46 PM

"Hey! I've got it!"

PrivateI, better known as Monty to his friends, darts over to mastina's computer bag and pulls out the laptop. "If I connect my phone's data plan to mastina's laptop," he mutters to himself as he plugs it in, "And set the screen output to put the image on the television," Monty enters a few commands and hooks up the laptop to the TV, "We should have...picture!"

The television suddenly flares to life with images of Times Square on the eve of the new year. Joyful, often-inebriated party-goers, not unlike the crowd watching them, light up the cabin for a few brief moments before the image and sound is replaced with swirling gray "snow" and the roar of static. The company groans in unison, and grumbles are directed in Monty's direction. "I...I don't understand! It was working!" He checks the connections, then the battery on the laptop, and finally the phone itself. "That's...that's weird. I can't connect anywhere anymore. It's gone dead. No signal. We had five bars earlier today!"

Everyone reaches into pockets and grabs phones off of coffee tables, but it's all the same. No signal. Not even a hiccup or residual update. An eerie silence pervades the room for a moment.

"Hey. HEY." The worst points at Monty. "He's new. He wasn't a mod previously, and he's new to the SSC as well. Where's his stupid propeller hat?"

Silence reigns again until Shadoweh cracks, emitting a tipsy giggle that is immediately joined by peals of mirth from everyone else present, save only for the confused the worst. "Hey! Explain!"

Alisae sidles up next to the worst and drapes an arm around his shoulder, "There's no tradition or initiation, Duck. It was a good prank, though. Say...can I get another beer?"

"Another beer?! Another...no! Get your own damn beer!" He whips the hat off his head and hurls it across the room to land in the abandoned checker set. "In fact, get me a scotch and soda. I'm not moving my feathered ass for the rest of the night!"

Still trying to control his own laughter, Kison presses play on the projector.

[Scummies]

11:59 PM

"Still no signal."

After the last of Zoraster's reels (for now) had wound down, midnight - and the new year - was rapidly approaching. The Mafiascum.net staff and Scummies Steering Committee gave up trying to make the television work, then abandoned the shoddy satellite-based internet in mith's "chalet." Now they meandered aimlessly in half-drunk singles, pairs, and trios, holding their cell phones up to the air, trying in vain to catch an errant signal in the pristine mountain air.

"Maybe...maybe the tower is overloaded?" offered RadiantCowbells, who'd passed out early and had missed much of the evening.

"Or damaged," muttered davesaz darkly.

"Too late to matter!" noted Cephrir, "Twenty seconds! Get your booze!"

Everyone scrambled to find their cup, glass, bottle, tankard, or champagne flute in time to join in the countdown.

"10!"

"9!"

"8!"

"7!"

"6!"

"5!"

"4!"

"3!"

"2!"

"1!"

"Happy New Year!"

The lights went out and a sudden frigid gust down the chimney puffed the smoldering fire into ash.

Darkness fell.

January 1, 2020
Midnight

End, Part I
To be continued

[Scummies]

Part II

A clearing in the forest
January 1, 2020
12:00 AM

In the depths of the forest stood a clearing. Not a grassy forest meadow, with flowers and bees and gopher holes, but a barren, rocky gap in the foliage. A dead place. A haunted place. An evil place.

A tremor shook the stony ground, causing ripples in the standing puddle of murky, stagnant water. Ice crept across its surface as the temperature bottomed out, rapidly freezing the entire volume of water before cracking the sudden block in two, snapped under its own unnatural mass.

The small quakes increased in intensity, shifting pebbles and stones before rolling a small boulder down a slope. The lifeless dirt parted, and a bony claw scrabbles free of its earthen prison. The rumbles escalated into booming cracks and snaps as the skeletal creature pulled itself upright. As it staggered to its feet, sinew wound its way around the exposed bone of its low-slung form, followed by heavy muscle. Organs grew in the abdomen, threatening to spill forth before being covered in layers of thick hide. The claws of the now-slavering beast flexed, testing their power and strength as the final details of its form grew into place.

Fur.

Orange and black fur.

[Scummies]

mith's mountain chalet
January 1, 2020
12: 06 AM

"Okay, I think I've got it."

The tiny flame finally caught, and the twigs and dry leaves Pine had been feeding to it flared greedily with tongues of orange flame. Light and warmth gradually refilled the chalet's main hall as the tinder was consumed and fire spread to the kindling hastily scrounged from the wood pile. The moments after the lights went out had been utter chaos as drunken Scummers had panicked, tripping over one another in their surprise and sudden fear. The temperature dropped what seemed to be twenty degrees, and pandemonium had reigned for two long minutes before Papa Zito shouted for silence, holding up a lighter. That beacon of light and warmth calmed everyone, and three more lighters in pockets were remembered. Zito calmly organized two parties from the soberest people left to go figure out what happened.

No sooner did the kindling reignite the smoldering remnants of the fuel logs in the hearth did the lights flicker back on. Micc and RadiantCowbells, it seemed, had been successful in finding the fusebox and flipping the tripped breaker. As the fear and anxiety began to subside, nervous laughter spread through the party-goers. What a strange coincidence, right? Someone should mod a game based on this! Maybe we could use this for Mish Mash events!

Kison checked the projector, and found it worked just fine, now that the electricity was back on. Monty cleared his throat. "Err, the next one's supposed to be mine, I guess." He pulled a film roll out of the front pocket of his bag and passed it forward. The projector rattled to life, shining a flickering image of each of the assembled staff and SSC members in their first newbie games. "Newbies are the lifeblood of the Mish Mash, the same as they are for the rest of the boards," he said, "The difference is that people who are new to our little corner of the community might be old hands at Mafia, but we love them anyway. So one of our absolute favorite Mashies to give out every year is Best New Player."

[Scummies]

12: 17 AM

"Hey, add another log to the fire."

The temperature was finally getting back to normal after the "incident," as it was now being referred to. Some people present had responded to the startling events by another round of increased drinking, but most were throwing in the towel on the booze, or at least scaling back to a responsible volume. Pine had been adding branches and logs to the fire, bit by bit, throughout Monty's presentation, and it was now roaring and merry again.

"Heyheyheyheyheyyyy," slurred mastina, who had firmly joined the 'drink moar' camp, "Innit cannballism or somefing fer you to do that? Trees and fire yannow."

"Nah. This is mostly hemlock and oak." Pine replied with a wink, "I might catch hell from my uncle, though, he's married to a spruce." PenguinPower and implosion came out of the little kitchen area bearing a tray piled high with food. When the power had gone out, they'd taken advantage of the full moon's light to raid the refrigerator on the front porch, on the premise that things would be spoiled if they waited. When it came back on, they had sheepishly offered to make deli sandwiches for everyone as a midnight meal. They passed out food to everyone as Zoraster and Kison prepared the next round of films.

"Okay!" said Zor, "Let's get on with this. "I like to say that every MafiaScum moment is a Kodak moment, but some are moreso than others..." He nods to Kison, and the clip rolls.

"Whoops! Wrong one! Let's look at this year's instead."

[Scummies]

12:25 AM

"Can we just let that die?"

Mastina had been shifting uncomfortably since the video clip of her narrated post had played, the tipsy edge to her demeanor gone. "I mean...mishtakes were made, arright?" Mastina finally gave up fidgeting and swayed out the back door with a huff, slamming the heavy door on her way outside. Micc watched her go out the window, drawing the curtain aside with his bottle. "I'll keep an eye on her, make sure she doesn't wander too far."

The group was a little quiet after the dramatic scene until davesaz broke the silence - and the tension - with an enormous beer belch. More nervous laughter filled the room, and another hail of sandwich crusts, empties, and a shoe flew at the cackling davesaz.

"Hey, hey!" Untrod Tripod waved for a cease fire. "We have to clean this place up tomorrow, and I'm not helping if you asshats get crumbs everywhere. Do you want ants? Because that's how you get ants." A few people cracked smiles at the reference, and the flying objects stopped...except for the second shoe, thrown by a giggling MariaR, which narrowly missed UT's head.

"Maybe it's time to move on," Zoraster said, and loaded the next reel.

[Scummies]

12:25 AM

"Well that was dark."

Shadoweh shifts uncomfortably on the floor where she'd been laying with her head on xofelf's knee. "I mean, they whack the guy and just talk about their kids like it's nothing? Creepy." xofelf pats Shadoweh's hair while pouring herself yet another glass of mith's fancy wine. "It's all right, sweetie. It's just a man and a horse being hung out there." Shadoweh flinches away, "WHAT?"

RadiantCowbells chuckles, but bites it back quickly. "That's, uh,

Blazing Saddles,

right?" Several people nod or agree in unison, but Shadoweh isn't having it. She stands up and storms away, looking out the back window with Micc. "Where's mastina? She's been gone a while." Micc had set his bottle aside entirely while the mobster scene played out, and pointed outside. "She went past those trees two minutes ago, and I haven't seen her since. I was about to go after her."

Shadoweh pulls on Micc's arm and opens the door, dragging him along. "I'm going with you." RadiantCowbells glances up. "Shadoweh, it's getting cold out there. I'll come too." He grabs her jacket and his own, and follows after them. The three vanish from sight moments later in the darkness.

Zoraster watches the altercation impassively, and clears his throat after Shadowed, RC, and Micc disappear. "If she thought that one was dark, it's probably best she's not here for this one, either." Kison puts the next roll of film on the projector, and a scene of a kitchen plays on the far wall.

[Scummies]

12:31 AM

The creature raised its nose into the air, sniffing. The scent of something different was on the air. It had already stained its claws with the viscera of three squirrels and a particularly feisty possum, but these new things smelled...sweet. The creature's jaws dropped open, and its red-stained fangs drooled slaver in anticipation of a new kind of hunt.

It followed the strange aroma to the edge of the forest, where in a clearing stood an odd...hill? The creature had never seen anything like it before. The thing was all straight sides and steep angles, and radiated light and warmth despite the darkness and cold of the night. It watched as the side of the hill - or whatever it was - opened, and two of the sweet-smelling morsels rummaged about with a white box. The creature began to creep closer, but a sharp clinking sound startled it. The creature flattened itself low to the ground, trusting in the shadows, underbrush, and its own stripes to conceal it from the prey. The two morsels disappeared back into the hill, emitting a raucous sound before they closed the hole in its wall. Too much trouble, too many unknowns.

The creature followed its nose along the edge of the forest, smelling out more of the two-legged creatures. It tracked three of the prey-things, watching them approach a fourth. They made noises with their mouths. Were they trying to frighten it? Mate with it? No matter. The prey-things looked weak and defenseless, but meaty enough. The creature began to stalk closer, creeping along on silent, padded feet.

It was time to feast.

[Scummies]

12:33 AM

"Aaaagh! You're killing me!"

T-Bone threw down his cards in disgust. "War is supposed to be a game of luck, how do you keep winning?" Papa Zito cackled madly and raked the newly-captured cards into his pile. The two old hands on staff had been quietly playing cards behind the couch while davesaz watched, nursing a gin and tonic. xRECKONERx wandered through the room, holding his cell phone up, chasing signal. "I think I had a bar for a second there...damn it, the hubby's got to be worried by now. He wanted me to call at midnight, and it's half past now." Pine looks up, startled. "Oh, right. I was supposed to FaceTime home to help sing Pinecone to bed. She doesn't sleep without it, and she's probably all overtired by now." The two men headed for the door to try and find signal, followed by Monty and xofelf, who excused themselves to try and call home too.

"Moving on, then," Zor said, "Getting close to the end. The results are in on our newest category, honoring Marathons. We've always done Marathons in short bursts to hype them up and make sure they don't get old, but it's time to bring them into the main stream." Kison loaded up the film, and a riot of color splashed the far wall.

[Scummies]

12:42 AM

"Noooo! My eyes!"

Untrod Tripod wailed and covered his face at the cartoon displayed on the far wall. "Anime, my one weakness!" He drops to the ground, clutching a hand to his chest in an elaborate and dramatic mimicry of dying of shock. Sitting next to him, MariaR bows her head in grief, drawing a sheet over UT's still form while Cephrir intones, "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust..." over the body. When he actually starts crumbling pretzel crumbs onto the sheet-covered face, however, Ut sits up and brushes himself off. "That's how you get ants, damn it!"

Meanwhile, Nexus and PenguinPower seem to have passed out on the couch. Alisae prods them awake, and the three of them head out for the night. There weren't enough cots or space on the floor in the chalet, so they'd set up a tent outside.

The party was really starting to wind down. Aside from Zoraster and Kison, only eight were still in the main hall watching movies. No matter, play the next one.

[Scummies]

12:54 AM

"Uggggh, my stomach!"

Implosion staggered outside into the darkness, where he proceeded to empty the contents of said stomach into a bush. Papa Zito followed him out, staggering a bit himself. The smell of post-consumer hops and gin filled the air as the two men supported one another through the ages-old ritual of losing one's lunch after far too much booze and fried food.

Inside, Zoraster's diminishing audience was growing restless. "Shouldn't we wait for the others?" asked T-Bone, "Maybe continue in the morning?"

"Hey, you snooze, you lose," offered MariaR, who had never really slowed down with the alcohol, displaying an impressive fortitude as she heroically worked her way through a bottle of tequila. "I'm with ya, Zor, on with the show!"

Zoraster hesitated, looking after implosion and Zito. Mastina and the others had been gone for a long time, and he was starting to worry. For now, though, he helped Kison put another roll of film on the projector. It whirred to life, and a dimly-lit dungeon flickered into being on the screen.

[Scummies]

1:02 AM

"By the gods, it's got my arm!"

Davesaz yawned as the last moments of the dungeon-crawling clip played, apparently bored by the scenes of gruesome carnage. "Good stuff. Hey, hold the next one for me, alright? I've gotta go break the seal on all this beer." T-Bone got up with him, indicating the same. MariaR waved cheerfully as they went out the back door.

"It's getting late," said Cephrir, "I don't particularly want to wait." He stood up and brought a roll of film forward. "Got the last Mashie video here. This is the big one. You all have lots of awards for different things, but it's my honor to talk about the Best Overall Mish Mash Player. Our players are the best part of what we do, so this one's the big one for us. It's going to an absolute legend this year."

Cephrir hands off the film to Kison, and the screen changes to a scene of a brightly-lit stadium.

[Scummies]

1:11 AM

The video ends, and silence falls over the remnants of the party. A heavy feeling of foreboding hangs in the air, but no one can quite put their finger on it. MariaR hiccups quietly on the couch, the dregs of her tequila bottle in hand. Cephrir munches idly on one of the last sandwiches. Untrod Tripod paces nervously before the fireplace. the worst fusses with his red suspenders, unable to find anything in mith's dresser which would properly fit as a replacement. Zoraster and Kison simply stare blankly at one another, as if waiting for something to break the calm.

A piercing scream finally split the night, startling the small party from their reverie. An unidentifiable body slams into the back door, covered in blood. Enormous rents in the flesh hemorrhage blood, and its hand barely holds its innards inside its shredded shirt. The shrieking casualty collapses to the floor. Zoraster takes charge, rushing forward to help, but it is far too late. Mere moments pass before the screams fade into incoherent babble, then stop. Untrod Tripod uses a scrap of torn jacket to wipe the face clean. "It's T-Bone. What the hell could have done this to him?"

Another scream sounds in the distance. Zoraster stands up, wiping his hands on his jeans. "I don't know, but I think we're about to find out."

End, Part II

[Scummies]

Part III
1:15 AM

The beast crouched low over its prize, digging its claws into the soft flesh of its victim just for the sheer thrill. The prey-thing squirmed beneath its broad claws, making confused prey-sounds with its mouth. The creature ducked its head down and put an end to its protestations with a single, vicious twist of its jaws. It tore free the offending hunk of flesh and swallowed it whole. The monster had fed well this night, more greedily than in any hunt for many cycles, yet its ravenous appetite was not slaked.

The orange-and-black abomination ripped out another gobbet of prey-thing to devour, then shredded the carcass, despoiling it in blind, sinister rage. It stalked forward, paws sticky with gore, past the remnants of other bloody feasts. A herd of the prey-things was leaving the unnatural den, brandishing the angry red of flame in their feeble paws. At last, they recognized their doom, but too late.

The beast would enjoy this final hunt.

[Scummies]

1:18 AM

"Is this really a good idea?"

The small posse huddled together against the darkness, brandishing flaming brands from the fireplace, chair legs, and kitchen knives. Zoraster clutched the ancient and battered shotgun that had been hanging high on one wall. the worst's teeth chattered in the chill, torchlight reflecting wildly off the sequins sown into his suspenders. "I mean, wouldn't it be safer to just bar the doors and wait for morning?"

Untrod Tripod elbowed the worst. "Hey. T-Bone was my friend, and the others that are out here are too. If any of them are alive, we have to try and help them." Cephrir nodded, and MariaR hiccuped in response. For at least the fifth time, Zoraster checked the action of the shotgun, praying that the dusty shells they'd found in a drawer were still good.

It wasn't long before their fears were realized. Just out of sight of the chalet, they found evidence of a gory repast. Rent limbs and viscera were strewn amongst the undergrowth. A look of surprise was still on davesaz's face, his still-steaming abdomen open to the air. Implosion and Zito lay piled together, their remains difficult to identify from one another. A little further along, a bloody, shredded tent stood testament to the end of Alisae, PenguinPower, and Nexus. MariaR raised her torch to look inside, and promptly reproduced half a bottle of tequila onto the side of the trail.

"What the hell happened here? What could do this?" the worst asked, his face a sickly shade of green. The rest of the group turned to look at him, a look of horror on their face. "Guys?" What the worst couldn't see was the luminous yellow eyes behind him, moments before bloody, whiskered jaws closed around his leg and dragged him, screaming, into the night.

========

Meanwhile, back in the chalet, the abandoned and forgotten projector plays on, and the scene of a crowded casino flickers to life on the far wall.

[Scummies]

1:25 AM

"Was that...was that what I thought it was!?"

The survivors clutched at one another, panting in the darkness. Zoraster had fired off one deafening blast with the shotgun before retreating into the night. The others had followed suit, fleeing in disorganized panic from the appearance of the beast. They gathered themselves in a small clearing by the lake, downslope from the chalet. Only Cephrir had held onto his torch, but at least the full moon gave off some light, reflecting off the water in a mockery of peace. The torn bodies of Micc, Shadoweh, and RadiantCowbells bobbed against the little dock, staining the shore with red foam.

"Yeah...it was a tiger." Untrod Tripod replied. "Zor...I thought we got rid of them all years ago, after the great attack of '12. Where did a monster like that come from?" He wiped his brow in anxiety, unconsciously smearing T-Bone's blood across his face.

"Constant vigilance, UT." Cephrir cut in. "At some point, we forgot and let our guard down."

======================

The casino fades, and a futuristic scene fades into view.

[Scummies]

1:40 AM

"Heyyy, over here."

MariaR tottered drunkenly, the booze finally getting to her. She took a flask from her back pocket and took a hit. The reek of cheap, high-proof vodka almost, but not quite, covered the stench of decay as she waved her broken chair leg at the pile of bodies. The creature had clearly made something of a den in this patch of dense shrubbery, dragging its victims back to devour at its leisure. Cephrir leaned in to look at faces, but had to turn away at the sharp scent of offal, dropping his torch. Maria scooped it up to keep it from going out, spilling a measure of liquor down her front. "Reck and xofelf at least," Cephrir reported after he caught his breath, "I think another one was Monty, but I can't be sure."

A somber mood settled over the survivors as they contemplated their situation. Only a few people were still missing, the rest dead. "We've got to get out of here," said Untrod Tripod, "There's no way we make it with that monster out there. If we can't call for help, we need to get back to the cars." Zoraster and Cephrir nodded reluctantly in agreement, while Maria gave a thumb's up. They turned and began trudging back up towards the abandoned chalet. No sooner had they set foot on the trail than a deep, coughing roar echoed through the forest. The survivors looked at one another and sprinted down the trail.

==========

A new film reel settled onto the projector, and an orchestra fades into view on the far wall.

[Scummies]

1:49 AM

"Ahhhhh, help m-"

Cephrir's cries for help were suddenly cut short, and silence reigned again, broken only by the panting gasps of the survivors and their pulse thundering in their ears. Zoraster, Untrod Tripod, and MariaR raced through the dimly-lit forest, adrenaline spurring them back towards the chalet and their cars. If only they could reach the relative safety afforded of their vehicles, they could outrun the threat and go for help. Cephrir had stumbled on the path, and the tiger had burst from the trees before he could regain his feet. There was no use mourning him now, their very lives were at stake. The trio vaulted over a fallen log and were struck by a gruesome sight. Pine's body was dismembered, strung up through the spreading branches of an old white pine like Christmas ornaments, his head lodged high above the trail like a macabre angel. "Well..." panted Zoraster, "That's kind of fitting."

Maria rolled her eyes and made to smack him on the shoulder, forgetting for a moment that she held a torch. The gesture fed oxygen to the guttering flame, which flared into brightness and consumed a little more of itself. A burning splinter dropped from the brand onto Maria's jacket. She tried to pat out the spark, but it caught on her vodka-stained sleeve. As the alcohol was consumed, the blaze rapidly spread over her torso. She began to scream, and dropped to the ground, flinging the torch into the base of the old tree, festooned with body parts. It caught in a smear of resin where an old branch had been lost, and the tree was quickly engulfed in flame as well. Maria's shrieks increased in pitch as both fires spread, and Zoraster fled the conflagration, Untrod Tripod close on his heels.

============

The final reel of film was nearly spent, but it shifted scene one last time, changing to an ornate chapel.

[Scummies]

1:54 AM

"Open the door, open the door!"

Zoraster fumbled with the keys as he and Untrod Tripod stood, panting in the little field they'd converted into a parking lot the previous morning. Adrenaline surged through his hands as UT cast about wildly with the shotgun, which he'd taken after losing his butcher knife in the forest, searching for a target. Zoraster finally found the right key and was about to set it in the lock when the gun went off. The shock of the blast knocked the two survivors together, and the keys dropped to the ground. Both men dropped to the ground and scrambled to find the keys. "Got them!" cried Untrod Tripod, holding them up in triumph.

The tiger took his arm off at the elbow.

Gore sprayed across Zoraster's face as his friend shrieked in pain and terror, the coppery taste of arterial blood strong in his open mouth. He turned and fled as Untrod Tripod's screams continued behind him. They stopped as suddenly as Cephrir's had as Zoraster slammed the door to the chalet behind him. He gasped for air, trying to regain control of himself. Just as his breathing slowed and his mind began to think rationally, he jumped again as the door across the great hall opened. Mastina tripped over the film projector, pulling its plug free from the wall and ending the scene of a young knight accepting the accolades of his peers. Her hair was mussed and full of grass, and she rubbed sleep from her eyes as she warmed her hands by the fire, yawning.

"What...what happened? I thought I heard a gunshot...is that blood? Zor?" Mastina's eyes widened in realization for just a moment before the window burst inward, scattering broken glass and shards of wood all over the room. It scrabbled for purchase on the tile floor where mere hours before, a checkers tournament had been won by its most recent victim. The tiger was covered in wounds of its own, both from the glass and the final shotgun blast. It swiveled its beady, infernal eyes back and forth between the two prey-things before it, then pounced on the screaming Mastina. The young woman and the tiger rolled end-over-end before coming to a ripping, shredding stop on the hearth.

Zoraster gulped and made his decision. He ran across the room, leaping over abandoned liquor bottles and nearly skidding in the half-dried pool of T-Bone's lifeblood, and took a flying leap, feet-first, into the tiger's flank. Both monster and victim were hurled into the still-blazing fire, sending out flames and sparks all over the hall.

End, Part III

[Scummies]

Epilogue

2:16 AM

The undead tiger took a long time to die. Whatever abominable force had animated it seemed to have been susceptible to fire, as its body had been consumed almost immediately. Still, it had writhed and struggled for long minutes, growling and yelping, before finally laying still to burn. Mastina was dead, and - so Zoraster hoped - had been before he'd kicked them into the fire. The blaze had ignited other parts of the room, and he hadn't had the energy or wherewithal to fight the blaze. It wasn't until after the creature had been consigned to oblivion that he'd looked down and seen the long, jagged shard of glass in his side. Strange, he hadn't felt it at the time.

Zoraster staggered outside as part of the ceiling gave way. The expulsion of hot air knocked him to the ground, but a fresh wave of pain jolted him back upright. He had to get help. He knew not to remove the impaling glass, but knew also that it probably wouldn't matter anyway. He tried his cell phone again, but the slippery blood on his hands made it impossible to actually interact with the screen. He hurled the useless chunk of glass and plastic away from him, and the effort nearly made him pass out. He was already feeling light-headed. Not a good sign.

He hauled himself back to his feet, and staggered towards the cars. Zoraster found Untrod Tripod's still-warm body, and located the keys, inches from his dismembered, outstretched fingers. The jeep's engine turned over, and Zoraster breathed a heavy sigh of relief. He might not make it to a hospital, but at least he had a shot. He put the jeep in reverse, and began driving down the road to safety. He hadn't yet gone a hundred yards when a figured stepped out into the road. Zoraster spun the wheel, the glass in his side sending lances of agony up his side as he steered off the road and into an oak tree. His last thought was one of confusion, for he'd recognized the figure.

The figure calmly watched Zoraster breathe once more, shudder, and lie still across the steering wheel. The orange glow of the burning chalet joined the deeper red of the larger inferno of the burning forest behind him as he deactivated the cellular jamming signal. Picking his way carefully, the figure descended into ditch and laid two gloved fingers on Zoraster's carotid artery, as he had with all of the subjects not presenting as obviously dead. Satisfied, he pulled a notepad out of his jacket pocket and crossed one final name off of his list. The task finally finished, he climbed up the bank, cursing at the mud stains he'd no doubt have on his carefully-pressed trousers, and placed a call. He waited patiently as the tone dialed, then rang. Another man's voice picked up on the third ring, and demanded a report.

"One survivor, Mr. mith. No, sir. Yes, sir. I took care of him myself. The experiment was a failure, despite the effigy's success rate. I would like permission to reset and try again. Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." Kison ended the call and pocketed it. From the interior of his jacket he pulled out a sleek black device with a single red button, and pressed it.

The End?

[Scummies]

Thank you all for your patience with the pacing of the Scummies. As you may be able to tell, this year's ceremony has been a labor of love, with punctuality sacrificed for quality time after time. I hope that the final product is enjoyable and entertaining, it's been a blast to write, as have the vignettes for individual awards.

This thread is now open.