HALLOWEEN 2017: INTO THE WOODS CYOA

[cursedandwandering]

B) Marshmallows!


Well, there were no tears, that was a good sign. The carousel took a step back to examine the mess of the tents and tilted her head at the neat pile of poles. That was... Weird. HB pursed her lips, scratching her head as she took in the rest of the scene.

Well, there was some foot prints, but those could've been made by any of them, the other half of their group, Skirmish, those werewolves. If they were looking for the mothphone it would be flying probably. The mare squinted, now how would you tell where something flying went? Her eyes lit up as she spotted the trail of marshmallows. Maybe he got hungry and the bag of marshmallows had a leak! The perfect bread crumb trail!  

[Byagane319]

A: We keep working the tracks.

Draft smiled seeing Banshee brighten up. Her moods were quick to swing, much like her mother's. After assisted with the tents, glad nothing was ripped or such, he looked at the two options. Despite his aunt's baking ability Draft was never one for sweets, cept for Lullaby who the only good he was ever gonna have.

Keeping close to his granddaughter, Draft followed behind her along the trail. The tracks seemed quite unusual but at least it didn't seem like a completely obvious trap like marshmallows laid out in a line.  

[Syrcaid]

A: We keep working the tracks.

Nightvine note the poles, but wasn't sure what that even meant. The tents weren't neatly folded, but the poles were placed neat? The lettering looked almost professional. You know... if writing with ashes could look professional.

"That looks like a lure," Nightvine note about the marshmallows. "Saying 'hey, look, we took ALL your marshmallows, but if you follow this line you'll have a shot at getting them again'."

Nightvine noted the time of night. "I hope we figure this out fast, once it's dawn I may be dead asleep in these woods."  

[Maxx D]

B: We work the marshmallows.

It's just too bad that the massive possum had probably eaten the rest of the S'mores ingredients if they had remained, leaving the mystery of Did the Marshmallow Thief Mean to Make Smores wide open. But did the possum have to be that big?
Fireflight was not the camping sort and he was pretty sure he was never going to be at this point.

Fireflight's head turned in Labyrinth's direction, as a decidedly baffled expression settled on his face. His browridge rose. ".....OK."
A big a** gorilla. An enormous possum. He was going to have to open an inquiry about D-T3CH's disposal policies again, and decided he would not report the gorilla. Prowl was in the sort of mood where she'd take any excuse to brutalise the Phonyland forest at the moment.

"Sky Flare reporting, continuing investigation. Nothing to report." He whispered firmly into his walkie talkie, and the little voice at the back of his mind told him that having 'nothing to report' sounded incredibly suspicious.

"I vote follow the marshmallows, since we know that the Mothpone can...fly...because he's a...yeah."  

[Jun D]

B: We work the marshmallows.

Diamond peered at the trail of marshmallows. She was all for working the marshmallows. Even if they eventually led nowhere, they'd still get a bunch of marshmallows. Diamond had eaten ashes. She had nothing to lose.

She carefully picked up one of the marshmallows and licked it. Yep. Tasted like marshmallow. And dirt.  

[Luafien]

B: We work the marshmallows.

Like a bloodhound on the prowl, the faintest hint of delicious, over-processed sugar had Boysenberry Pie's snoot shoved straight into the ground. Huffing and snuffing, tail twitching sporadically in the air, she crawled around the campsite. Ears flicking,
backtracking and circling around the fallen tents, completely shoving herself beneath phonies, undeterred by their mass in the way of her mission.

There! There it is! She leapt into a perfect point, snout extended towards the dainty, fallen mini-marshmallow, one forehoof curled towards her body, tail arched in the air.

"Marshmallow! MARSHMALLOW ALERT." It was possibly the most important clue this whole dang trip has given them. Who could just drop a marshmallow? A monster, that's who!

"C'mon, I smell more marshmallows!" Boysie impatiently danced in place, hooves picking up and smacking back down onto the forest floor in impatient little jumps. Someone needs to take this sugary bloodhound for a dang walk.  

[Fea Line]

B: We work the marshmallows.


Fright Night paced in a circle, coming to a pause every so often only to tap a hoof to his chin. He had so many questions and in his mind some things added up and some things didn't. He first thought to check the depressions but something else kept coming to mine. The Mothpon could fly....why would he be leaving any kind of print or depression on the ground? If he had wings, surly he'd be flying just about everywhere. A few others seemed to verbally echo his thoughts as well which only helped solidify his choice.

But then why marshmallows? Was he just that hungry? Were sweets even good for moths? Still....that trail of marshmallows was almost too perfect to pass up. He followed several others and made suit towards the trail of tiny puffy delectables. "I only hope a possum hasn't gotten the best of us!" he chuckled to himself.  

[Chrystali]

B: We work the marshmallows.

"Maybe you can grab someone before the mothpone makes off with them," Catwalk snickered softly, lifting her front hooves and making a soft 'ooOooOo' sound. Clearly, she did not believe it to be a monster. There were all sorts of flutters. How was this any different?

The debate that broke out prompted the small Phony to heave a sigh. There was actually no winning in either decision - logically, a flying Phony's hoof-prints will disappear in flight, just as logically that marshmallows would run out or be picked up by scavengers.

"Marshmallows," she threw her two cents out without much caring if anyone heard. "If it's a mothpone, it can fly, so we're gonna run out of hoof prints. If we wait much longer, we'll lose the 'mallows, too."

medigel

 

[Snoofington]

A: We keep working the tracks.

Everyone had fairly cogent points, and if they didn't then they had no shortage of enthusiasm for whatever vote they offered. Crypt Keeper found himself struck with indecision, aware of pros and cons for both sides. Ultimately, however, the decision seemed clear.

"There's a higher chance the bag of marshmallows were just dropped somewhere and we would get lead into a dead end, or that they run out before we find anything useful." He frowned as he said this, not liking to dampen spirits; there was still a chance it could work but the risk seemed too high. "If we keep following the tracks, we have a better chance of keeping up. Even if the Mothpone flies, there's other ways to track him. Bent branches. But there's more tracks than just his," Crypt gestured to the much smaller set of prints, "If someone else is lost we need to make them a priority too."  

[Huni Pi]

B: We work the marshmallows.

This was perhaps the first time Muck couldn't bring himself to agree with Labby, but as this was a sort of voting process, he wouldn't mind if the tracks vote won. Still, he had to throw in his two bits, "There is such a thing as track-masking. That's where you think the tracks are moving forward but whoever left them actually was walking backwards."

Nobody ask him how he knows about technique of evading someone hunting you down to give you a bath that you really didn't wanna take Mama!

"The marshmallows seem a better choice to me but I'll go with whatever the majority decides on."  

[Biblioburro]

B: We work the marshmallows.

Ooooooooo, spooky! Riot wasn't particularly moved by the cameras, lights and black moving shapes could very easily be flashlights in the distance, or a weird deer. Deer, as a concept, were weird. She didn't know how anyone was more afraid of ghosts than they were of deer, weird spindly not-ponies with empty eyes who occasionally eat raw meat. She was much more afraid of the creepy things that lived in the wood that she COULD see.

But snagging a peek at the footage Rising Sign collected was all she needed.
There was a pony, with a face and a body and a tangible presence, perfect for punching for causing all this trouble. She ground her hooves into each other threateningly. She was bout to beat up whatever goth flutter thought this whole mess was funny.

The hoofprints were all they had to go on, but with a fork in the road she didn't even consider them for one more second. If they were after some 'mothpone' then chances were it was flying, and if it had snatched those marshmallows then this was the best lead they had.

Well that and she really didn't want to abandon Boysie in the middle of the woods to comb over marshmallow evidence and possibly run into a disgruntled raccoon.They'd stumbled into the dreaded scooby doo "splitting up" folly too many times that night.

Not at all because she was real soft on Boysenberry and a sucker for people who gave her food. Heavens no.  

[Tristam Lockhart]

B: We work the marshmallows.

His camera had some blurry footage but nothing concrete. Bokeh frowned but quickly went back to camp, finding the commotion over the tracks and marshmallows.

He sat down and listen to everyone's opinions. " well one of them we know for sure was made on purpose"  

[medigel]

B. We work the marshmallows

"Mmmmmaybe," he said distractedly, missing the sarcasm as he reeled his hook back in...and tore a leaf off it...Well, it was worth a shot. "Nobody unconscious and left in the trees by the apparently annoyed mothpone," Hooked declared, mostly to himself. These things were important to note.

Still, if some of the others had been here, the tracks were probably theirs. Or had the mothpone dragged one of them? Their guide for sure was still missing and all. But the marshmallows were definitely a trap. And traps meant someone was waiting. Maybe the mothpone was lying in wait at the end? Or one of theirs? Or maybe more goths. His head hurt...

"Marshmallows lead somewhere," he added to the discussion with a shrug. It was better than running around following tracks they may or may not identify. At least this one had food.

Chrystali

 

[theCorniest]

A) We keep working the tracks.

Friend-Ship looked up from the tent he was handling, listening to the observations being shared, and following the group as they followed the hoofprints. At the point where the trail of prints and marshmallows diverged, the group started debating which trail to follow. Friend-Ship pondered for a moment, then added his two cents;

"I think we should follow the hoofprints. We know that phonies of some sort made that path. Something else could've done the marshmallows."