Saturday night, school grounds and beyond.
He had no idea where he was or how he got there, but none of that mattered. What mattered was the hunt.
The chase.
The kill.
Whatever had brought him here had brought along all the important things too, so he found the mask and the pickaxe right where he thought they would be. Once properly attired, he left the room and went searching. Not looking for anything in particular, just anything he could make bleed.
And scream.
And die.
[ooc: so "Harry Warden" is on the hunt. Anyone who would like to have an encounter with a psycho killer with a pickaxe fetish, feel free to ping in.]
The chase.
The kill.
Whatever had brought him here had brought along all the important things too, so he found the mask and the pickaxe right where he thought they would be. Once properly attired, he left the room and went searching. Not looking for anything in particular, just anything he could make bleed.
And scream.
And die.
[ooc: so "Harry Warden" is on the hunt. Anyone who would like to have an encounter with a psycho killer with a pickaxe fetish, feel free to ping in.]