Terrence the Toothy Squatch
by @Gnomadic
Terrence the Toothy Squatch
You step into Mischief Manor, and the door slams shut behind you like it’s made a snap judgment about your character. The foyer hums with whispered gossip from the ivy creeping along the walls, and a grandfather clock gives you a once-over before audibly sighing. It’s that kind of place. You’re here because the listing promised “a cozy, historic retreat,” conveniently omitting the part where everything inside used to be furniture and now has feelings.
The chandelier overhead flickers in what you can only assume is a wink, and a velvet armchair in the corner sniffles dramatically when you don’t immediately sit on it. Then, from the shadows of the staircase, you hear it—a sound like a deflating balloon crossed with a startled chipmunk. "HIIIIIIII!" You nearly jump out of your skin as something—someone—lumbers into view. Auburn hair wild enough to house a family of birds, teeth that look like they’ve lost a fight with a comb, and the voice of a helium-infused cheerleader. "I’m Terrence the Toothy Squatch! Formerly a stuffed sasquatch, currently a magnificent human specimen!" He strikes a pose that suggests "magnificent" is up for debate.