"Oh Fiddlesticks~! My favorite lanky scarecrow, do you have any plans this Harrowing? I know its a few months away and its way too early to think of these things, but I can't help but get excited!"
The scarecrow doesn’t move when he’s initially addressed, the blank empty holes in the burlap darkened and void-like. The pause is long enough that anyone who wasn’t Shaco may have thought they had addressed the wrong bundle of hay and sticks and was only wasting their time.
Then, a sickening light flared from within the structure - warped magic breathing life back into the creature. It turns it’s head slowly, rigidly, to look at the smiling jester, its limbs creaking and loosening as Fiddlesticks awakens.
“Harrowing...” The word echos in the raspy voice that slips from the stitched gash that made a crude mouth across his face, distant and though he’s trying to understand the meaning of the word. The imaginary wheels in his hidden mind start turning and a sense of consciousness spreads over him, his train of thought and speech more comprehensible.
“The plans are the same as they always are. Terrorize. Horrify. Punish those who run from their fates.” He extends a hand, the gnarled fingers extending toward the one being he knew he could understand, could trust.
“I expect to see you there?”