HAPPY HALLOWEEN! I MANAGED TO GET THIS DONE LAST NIGHT!
Kinda did my own take on the Pumpkinlord armor since it's actual design looks like a complete nightmare to draw-
Also- this is Panthea, my main Dragonfable protag! More on her later, probably.
Im sure i receive many strange looks, but frankly, Pumpkin enjoys Dundull far to much for me to care. Theres a carefree lightness to her gates whenever we ride through the wood. I feel it too, whenever I pass the ranch and under that earthen tunnel, it feels like the stress and worry melts away. Like Mistfall itself has taken me in its wooden hold and told me that life is good. Even the air here feels safe and clean and light.
Ive taken to nicknaming Pumpkinlord, Mellon. It reminds me of a show my siblings and i would watch, i wonder if they still do.
Theres a story down here that goes with this. Warning: it’s 2,705 words and probably blatantly ignores canon.
They say too beware the Witches, but never why. They tell stories of their cruelty, but never what they did. They tell naughty children that a Witch will snatch them away in the night and never return them. The fear of witches was put in my heart long before I knew the word. And I never knew why, nor did I question it. I knew to never be out after dark. Everyone did.
Yet on hallows eve, I was late. Far too late.
The sun had set long before I realised, and I was left in the darkness, grasping for the last dregs of light, slipping beyond the horizon. I was foolish. A child who thought he could outrun fate. And it had nearly cost me my life.
But in that suffocating darkness, in the indigo of the witches hour, she appeared. On a living pumpkin, she caught the light, and if she had ridden any other horse, I would have mistaken her for an ordinary child who, much like myself, had tried to outrun karma. Yet there was no mistaking the rider atop that good omen of a horse.
Smelling of Nutmeg and cloves, the Witch approached with a grin that, at first seemed frightening and cruel, but was instead a strangely sombre smile. She gazed down at me from atop that fidgeting horse, one hand outstretched as the other calmed her mount. And then she spoke, and her voice was not the cruel cackle that many had spoken of, nor was it dripping with sweet words, promising candy and chocolate if he came with her.
“Come”. No, there was no malice in her tone. It was warm and soft, and though it held the tiredness of one many years her senior, she let none of it carry to her soft face.
Pushing past the fear that clutched at my heart with icicle fingers, I stared at the Witch, taking her hand.
With a strength I had not expected, she pulled me atop that horse, and after a moment, leaned forward and whispered into the creature’s ear. There was a soft whiny, and she laughed quietly. And then the horse lunged, racing through the wood at an inhuman speed. I clutched the saddle with white knuckles, remembering the stories my mother would tell of Witch horses that, once atop them, would drag you down to the depths of lakes, never to be seen again.
My surroundings where a blur as the horse dodged trees and logs, leaping boulders and racing down foothills as the mountains became more barren. And with a sickening realisation, I noticed the great cliff that rose up high above us. The mount did not stop, racing to its end as the Witch grinned.
And then, with a shuddering roar, an arch of intricately carved stone pushed out from the rock, a portal of swirling pink and purple growing in the centre. With a final leap, the horse lunged through and the world faded to black.
When I awoke, the sky was a bruised blue and purple, clouds swirling like a nauseating vortex, and yet only a slight breeze disturbed the trees. A raven crowed in the branches, and for a moment, all was still.
Until the great pumpkin of a horse butted its head against mine, hollow eyes glowing orange. And beside it, the kind face of the Witch stared down at me, her wide, dark hat casting shadows over her eyes as she clutched her mount’s reins.
And for the third time that night, the wicked stories of Witches who would snatch away children in the night came to me. Yet before I could dwell on them, her hand was once again thrust towards me. But this time, I refused it, much to her dismay. Pushing myself up, I took one glance around and knew I was no longer in Jorvic.
A few feet from me, past a thick patch of grass, the world fell away into a swirling nothingness. Dotted around, I could see more islands, fragments of the ruined building around me and nothing more.
“Come”, the Witch spoke again, making me jump. Her voice still held no malice, no anger at my refusal, yet a light danced in her eyes. “The keeps master will want to meet you”. Who the master of the keep was, I did not want to know. Yet against my better judgement, I followed the Witch over a rickety bridge.
The keep was covered in cobwebs and broken beyond recognition, nothing but a crumbled staircase leading to a slim and cracked second floor was left. But the witch did not seem to care. She and her mount bounded up the worn steps, leaping a boarded up gap as they made their way to the horseman atop a great beast of a mount.
As I caught the fire of the coal creatures eyes, I knew in his bones who this was immediately. Galloper Thompson tuned his headless body in the slightest acknowledgement as the Witch moved closer, seemingly unafraid of the undead rider.
I, however, had never felt so much fear.
The witch stopped by the rider, releasing her pumpkin mounts reins as she spoke too low for him to even hope to hear. The horseman didn't reply, yet the Witch seamed to hold a conversation as if he had.
Glancing back and forth between the Witch and rider and the swirling portal in the distance, I felt a cold chill creep up my spine. There was no way I could reach it before either the Witch or horseman caught me.
“This one. I found him lost in the woods”. I turned back around, catching sight of the firelight dancing behind the Witch. She seemed to loom over me, her shadow against the wall moving with a life of its own. Yet in a blink, the fear and darkness that had encompassed her seconds before, changed and she was back with that soft smile plastered across her face. “Not to worry. I shall return him before dawn breaks”
“Re...Return me? Why cant...why cant you return me now!”, Though my voice and body shook, I stood with eyes hardened and shoulders squared. The Witch and rider exchanged a look and then turned back to me.
“Because Boy”, The Witch began, stepping closer as her mount curled behind her, “The Witches your elders tell you to fear have claim over the night, much like the druids over the day, and I over the dusk. If I were to return you now, I can promise that neither of us would see the dawn”
When my foot hit wood, the riders mount whinnied, and all at one the Witch seemed to shrink into herself. Her creature lowered its head, forelock resting against her palm as she turned away. And with a heavy sigh, she took up her mounts reins and leapt into the saddle, turning to face the horseman, and with a nod, she rode off.
For what felt like hours, I was left in the small slice of oblivion with Galloper Thompson keeping watch. There was nowhere in the keep and surrounding islands where I could not feel his eyeless gaze boring into my soul.
Aside from the burning gaze, I found myself exploring the area. The islands held many secrets, A few swirling portals were scattered around, and a few times, I had been tempted to leap away into one, yet each time, that burning gaze seemed to intensify until I could almost feel the flames licking at my skin. And then the Witches words, her warning, echoed hauntingly in my mind.
No, I had not spirited myself away, fearing that her words were true or that the horseman would come for me.
Once I had scoured the keep, I found myself drawn to the dark tower that rose from the clouds. The gate was rotted and smelt of waterlogged wood, yet through their bars, I could see the inside stretched far further than its outward appearance told.
No
With a jolt and a cry, I fell to the dry grass. The voice echoed darkly around in the night, and for a moment, I couldn't tell if it was in my mind or not. When the echo subsided, an orange glow had taken to illuminate the area, and when I looked up, I met the hellfire eyes of the riders mount. As I scrambled away, the riders eyeless gaze seemed locked to me.
And then the Witch appeared. Almost materialising out of the darkness on her mount, much like our first meeting.
She and the horseman exchanged a glance before she offered her hand. “The sun will rise soon. We should go”. Desperate to escape the headless mans burning gaze, I accepted the Witches hand and swung onto the mount. For a breathless moment, the rider watched them as he settled. “I will return before the sun”
With a mighty roar, the Riders beast turned with the Witch, racing back towards the keep while the Witch turned towards the portal.
There where many similarities, I note, between leaving and entering the portal. Because, once again, I woke up on the ground surrounded in fog, looking up at a tree-covered sky, not a bruised blue, but instead a soft pink, lightening with the sun. The Witch leaned over me, her mount grazing beside my head.
“Come”. This time I took her offered hand, feeling far to dizzy to refuse. She took her mount’s reins in one hand, the other swirling with purple light as she stopped at the edge of a cliff. “Your village is down the mountain. Go east and you will find a path, but do not stray from it or look back, nor must you run until you have left the trees. If you hear a sound, ignore it no matter what. Ignore these rules, and the Witches will have claim of your soul”
“I thought they couldn't come out in the day?”. In her hand, a large crystal shard emerged, pulsing with a light that mimicked a heartbeat.
“Then you were a fool. Much like I, they are not bound to the darkness, rather, they are stronger in it. But a Witch is a Witch, in their element or not.”. The gem was pressed into my palm, its warmth almost suffocating as the Witch met my gaze. “Do not underestimate us. Now go”
“Wait!”, before she could disappear back into the vortex, I grabbed her arm. “I...Why did you help me? Why did you give me this crystal? Who are-”
The Witch raised her hand, silencing the coming onslaught of questions. “Who I am matters not, nor does why I helped you. And that crystal is the shard of a soul returned to Aideen. Do not lose it”. And into the fog she and her mount went, disappearing like sylph’s in a memory, leaving me grasping for their presence, the smell of Nutmeg and cloves the only sign that they had existed at all.
As the fog dissipated, I headed the Witches words. Heading east, the trail unfurled, noting nothing moor that a fox track lined with mulberry and lavender. I didn't run, didn't turn at the snap of twigs, didn't glance back when I felt the prickle of eyes following me. The urge was almost overwhelming, but I couldn't take the chance. Instead, I clutched the shard tighter, following the track meticulously, never stepping foot in the underbrush.
Even when the trail thinned and the trees gave way to familiar farmland and paddocks, I didn't run. Didn't turn. Didn't flinch at the sounds of life. I didn't stop my purposeful walk until I was closing the door of my home, the frantic sounds of my parents rushing to me filling my ears. Nor did I release the shard clutched tightly in my fist.
For months after that Hallows night, I searched for the Witch and her mount. any spare breath was spent on watching the woods for her presence. I caught glimpses of her, of course, she knew I was looking. A shape in the fog, a form atop a cliff, Nutmeg and cloves catching my attention, the drumming of hoofbeats or a whisper in the wind. Sometimes she was atop a silver mare, sometimes a green creature in a pond, sometimes a ghostly skeleton, sometimes even the horseman's beast, firelight igniting her features. Sometimes I would find a cat watching me, black like the night or as skeletal as the horse that followed, and sometimes it was a gourd, laughing and playing with that pumpkin of a horse. But we never spoke, never shared more than a fleeting glance. She would fade into the fog when I looked away, disappearing where I could not see.
Eventually, she stopped appearing, or maybe I stopped looking. But I do know that her presence faded as I grew, that hallowed eve turning to nothing but another tall tail I would tell my children. Her smile nothing but a rouse to gain my trust.
I had forgotten her kind eyes, her soft voice. The way she smiled and spoke so sweetly. In the many long years that followed, I forgot the sweet smell of Nutmeg and cloves, the horse’s all-seeing eyes and the cat’s wise gaze. I would tell my children the take of the wicked Witch that whisked me away in the night, of the horseman who’s burning gaze I escaped, of the Witches who hunted me through the dawn. I would tell them never to follow a fox track away from town lest they fall prey to the Witch. I would tell them never to trust the pumpkins on hallows eve, or the swamps and wandering firelight for they could be a witches mount come to snatch them away in the night.
Until a Halloween night much like before. One of the village children had disappeared and the sun was sinking fast. The world cast in black and pink. The village scoured the plains, scoured the surrounding area. But never falling deep into the woods. A mother’s cries split the nearing twilight, echoing in the fields I called my home.
But the child did not return. Not when the fields were alight with torches and shouts. Not when the woods where considered. And not in the darkness of the night, when the Witches wicked cackles kept the darkness from comforting a grieving mother.
Not when a purple stone caught the fire, wrapped in leather cord fashioned into a necklace.
Before the dawn could break, I grasped the shard in a fist, picking my way through the woods, following a long-forgotten fox track lined with Lavender and mulberries. Up and up I followed, never looking back, never running and never straying from the path. Up until I met the edge of a familiar cliff, lit with a great swirling light.
And there the Witch stood, a child's hand clasped safely in her own. never looking older than when I had last seen her face. The child smiled as the Witch leant down to whisper in their ear. With a nod, the child pulled away, a pink shard clutched tightly in their fist as the pumpkin mount tugged playfully on the child's hair.
The Witch laughed sweetly at the horse’s antics, nudging the child softly towards me as a thick fog curled around our legs. The child puffed up their cheeks but ran towards me regardless. And then the Witch took her mount’s reins, swinging back into the saddle as she disappeared into the fog.
I stood on that cliff for what felt like an eternity, staring at the Witches fading form until the child tugged on my coat. “We should go”. I could do nothing but nod in silence as we turned.
“do not stray from the path or look back, don’t run until you have left the trees. If you hear a sound, ignore it no matter what. Ignore these rules, and the Witches will take you”, I spoke softly as we walked along the fox track towards home, the child grasping my hand.
“I know, the Witch told me. She's upset you forgot her, you know”
Theirs a monster that lurks beneath Hallow Town, a creature from another world that would consume all life if given a chance, so keep up your protective spells, your wards and charms, keep the beast sleeping and and do not ring the bell for it is not dinner time in Hallow Town.
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Never thought I would ever draw a Guzzlord variant Pokemon, but here we are.
Based on this doll
Photo from shiftythrifting tumblr post https://www.tumblr.com/shiftythrifting/764969818302644224/buncha-halloween-finds-i-bought-the-lil-fuzzy-bat?source=share
Hey I'm the pumpkinlord and im here to tell you what halloween is like from my persepective. every year im reincarnated to a diffrent faced pumkin sometimes adorable sometime really creepy ethier way im put out on the people's porch. people beleive that i am made to scare the monsters of halloween away, so im stuck each year on someones porch watching trick or treaters go from house to house. it's really boring,but im starting to get really tired of it because the trick or treaters only care about the candy there geting and not even trying on there monster costums. it's not entertaining to see a kid wearing a bed sheet over there head with eye holes in it.it's just plain sad, and what makes it worse is that they go around saying boo thats steriotypical and just not nice, if ghosts could i bet they would cry of how yall hurt there feelings.i see people that really try on there costums and it makes me happy.
ps. STOP PUTTING MY PEOPLE IN PIE'S IF YOU PEOPLE DONT WANT A WITCH TO BAKE YOU INTO A PIE WHAT MAKES IT RIGHT TO PUT MY PEOPLE IN A PIE OKAY SO STOOOOOPPPP ITTTTTT!
