Dunwich: A Creepypasta Panfandom Game

So where’s my welcome party?

Thursday/9 am (backdated)

Steve Rogers and Peggy Carter
Steve felt his chest flutter in a way that had - for once - nothing to do with his breathing, and packed up his supplies to wait for the lovely Miss Carter.

Sixth Street Café | TBA | ⚠ TBA

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Ow.

So apparently I do have a job. Was walking through down with my sketchbook, and someone asked me if I would be painting the town's murals again for springtime.

Then a few were asking about sketches for their shop window paintings. I've got a pocket full of cash deposits, a schedule of work and appointments, and I'm heading to the shop to get some paint and brushes.

This has got to be the strangest way to get a job that I've ever heard of.

[AUTOMATED SPEECH TO TEXT ALERT; ALL AVENGERS REGISTERED ON THE NETWORK]

[UPLOADING CONVERSION...]

[Static feed erupts and then a patchy, startled voice breaks through with exclamations and an elevated tone of stress, relayed loyally by the suit of armor he's currently careening through open airspace in.]

GUYS.

SOMEBODY. The suit has your signals, somebody answer, damnit! What the hell?!

Hey everyone.

I guess I fucked up. Sorry for scaring you.

Should be out of the clinic in a day or two. Unless Bucky breaks my legs to keep me here. Or Sam sits on me.

I should probably apologize for being a reckless asshole, too. But, I did help people get to safety, and I took down two ghosts. So, reckless asshole or not, it helped.

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Not sure whose things were in the washer on our floor, but that coin operated washer and dryer in the basement was pretty handy. Why didn't anyone mention this before? Saved me one hell of a trip into town.

[Alison Heywood]

Alison, I wanted to thank you again for your help with the clothes. I honestly can't remember the last time I had things that fit me this well.

[Grimm and Bucky]

So, when is my next training session?

[ALLCAPS - Sam/Bucky/Steve]
I guess Bucky's had time to go over the important stuff. So. Any questions?

Someone I knew said there's usually a causality between people with strength showing up and the number of threats that happen because of that. It's not an at-fault situation so much as that's what happens when you get a bunch of heightened or super skilled people, the rest of the world tries to follow. The Avengers, from my world, were there to help stop those who intended to harm people.

I've been thinking about the charity I plan to run, and along with it, I want us to be prepared for the potential eventuality that things place is going to throw at us. Lobster/scorpions, vampires, the locals, — who knows what else this place has in store for us. I want to be prepared.

I know the subject of powers and skill sets can be a touchy one so if you're not comfortable telling anyone — or even me — that's completely fine. If you want to share it privately, I'm good at keeping secrets. I'd like to know who we have here in case of various scenarios.

If you've never seen a grown man sob and cry, to the point that he had a legit runny nose, well you are missing out.

Half expected the guy to just storm out after three hours of waiting around. But he finally broke after getting to the counter, only to be sent back to fill out the 5805-A form in triplicate, and to wait in line all over again.

Damn, I love this job.

Someone gave me this... thing and said it's a phone? But I can send messages on it? I think she was confused, she kept insisting it was mine, but she at least realized I didn't know what to do with it and showed me how to send messages at least. The keys are so small.

I was... just in New York. Was supposed to report to a training camp in the morning, Camp Lehigh? Anyone hear of it? Or how I can get there? It's kind of my last chance, I really can't miss this,

Oh, my name is Steve. Steve Rogers. Hello.

ARRIVAL

The thick, ghastly haze of the mist, once practically opaque to the naked eye, fades and opens up to a nostalgic homegrown New England town. A friendly gazebo, freshly painted white sits on a neatly mown lawn at the center of the town square. Vehicles stop at the redlight while locals cross the street, birds chirp in the trees, and a school bus stops to pick up a few children in oversized backpacks. Pedestrians walk by you without a second glance. Did they not see you suddenly appearing out of nowhere? How could they not have noticed that all encompassing fog? And why doesn’t your obviously otherworldly attire catch their attention? This appears to be a small, close knit community. And it’s clear you’re not from around these parts.

But these are simply the first of many mysteries you’re about to discover.

The further you investigate your new surroundings, the more ominous this seemingly quaint and colloquial town becomes. There’s something dark beneath its pleasant guise. You can’t shake the chill at the back of your neck and the sense that someone—or something—is watching you. Then there’s the odd graffiti on the alleyway walls and the way the locals talk about certain locations. And while the mist is gone, there are places in town that make you reminisce about the mist. Places that feel supernaturally thin. Thin enough to let in whispers from the other side. Or maybe even screams.

And don’t worry if you hear laughter or the jingling chimes of carnival coming from the rain gutters in the street. That’s just your imagination. There’s nothing down there.

Nothing that floats.