#celio featherson

[kelly-clickspring]

Repostober day 1! Celio and his little buddy Jack at the JunkTown Harvest Festival! Jack belongs to my friend Karma whose main Tumblr I have lost track of because my memory sucks, but I'm sure he'll find this!

Repostober is going to be interesting, gonna post some oldies and some things I posted and chickened out on and deleted.

I miss Celio and Gianni. Need to make them have a comeback.

[tiny-tinkerer]

Clickspring’s Log: Meeting Celio

I haven’t decided the exact order in which JunkTown events occur for Clickspring, but as the pieces fall together I’ve been writing little excerpts to capture the scenes. I do love first encounters, so the following scene is a bit indulgent. Enjoy the read! 

Coming back around from the aching grog of my forced slumber, I sit up slowly and press warm palms onto my throbbing forehead. I keep my eyes pinched shut, not yet prepared to greet the light again. Even with eyes closed it is immediately apparent that my surroundings are very different. I am quite used to the coarseness of fabrics woven for humans. It isn't exactly easy to find something with a high enough thread count to feel soft when you're less than 5 inches tall. The fabric laying across my lap is an entirely new level of coarse, however. Strong woven and thick like an airship sail, with threads nearly as big around as my thumb.

"What in the hell-"

I halt the words in my throat and finally pop my eyes open as I feel vibrations in the ground. My instincts scream danger, but the quaking ceases, and then recedes into the far distance again. Definitely not at home in the Inn, that's for certain. It is also immediately clear that running away is out of the question.

This new, foreign place seems to stretch on for tens of meters. It'd take me half an hour to situate myself in the nearest cover. Not to mention that everything around soars leagues over my head in height. I can't even see the end of the massive mattress I'm essentially trapped on. But the dresser in my field of vision is far above me. A bed just plopped down on the floor? Seems like a borrower sort of choice; you end up taking a few shortcuts when you have to make your own furniture. I feel my waist to find my utility belt and all my tools missing. The chance of escape is nill without at least thread and a fishhook to  grapple, so the only logical choice is to let the situation play out.

I remember bits and pieces of the events that brought me here as I stew over the situation. I recall a group of scavengers, being squeezed tight in a human's hand, having my gear ripped away, and then forcefully being shoved into a padded metal jar. There were harassing voices above poking fun at my position, and then suddenly the whole world was draped in shadow.

I'd never seen a junk giant up so close, not outside the safety of my repair room where I was under constant protection and surveillance. I was vulnerable, and from what I could see with my restricted viewing, this one’s shadowy figure loomed far above the head of my captor. A voice rang out too loud to comprehend, but there was anger to it’s tone. I forced myself into the bottom of the surrounding padding and held my head tight in my arms, fearing that if the behemoth continued to speak, my eardrums might actually burst. There was a crash, and the jar went flying. The ground came hard and fast as I was painfully rattled about and flung from my unsealed prison. I recall feeling the dirt grind away the skin on my cheek and arm as I slid across the ground. The back of my head met with something hard, and the world went black.

Legends say a junk giant can swallow you whole without even knowing they've done it. A borrower is a bug they could smash to pulp with one finger. Bugs they enjoy toying with and slowly killing for some sick, fetish-like pleasure. Gods I hope that isn't true.I pinch my eyes shut. My blood runs fast and my heart pounds in my throat as the rhythmic quaking makes its return. My whole body quivers.

Metal slides against metal as the great door across the room is slowly freed from it's latch. I brace my arm against my side and hang onto the sail cloth below me for dear life as the world shakes out of control. I'm too terrified to open my eyes. The quaking halts for a moment, I can hear the sounds of air being drawn in and out of cavernous lungs, and the tension of massive cables of muscle straining to hold up the behemoth as it leans over and sets something down on the end of the bed. A brief moment of silence, and then comes the greatest shaking I've ever felt as the monster lowers it's whole massive weight to the floor. In the chaotic movement I'm flung back on my side, and I curl into a tight fetal position to protect my head.

"Oh! Sorry!"

The whisper, deep and still horrifically thunderous, hits my chest like a punch. I open my eyes wide with fear and unfurl my body. Turning over to gaze up equally in fear and confusion.

"S-sorry?" My voice blurts out, dumbfounded.

Above me looms the giant from before. Wide as a truck bed, probably as tall as a warehouse. He seems less terrifying now. His face is youthful and rounded, framed by a mop of brunette hair in disheveled bangs, a rhomboidal red birthmark splashed across his nose, from which hangs a bull ring I could probably sit on. He lifts a hand and waves awkwardly, in a way that would be halfway cute if his fingers weren't wider than my torso.

"What did you say, little buddy? I-uh," he swallows anxiously and scratches at the back of his head. A few flakes of dandruff as big as my hand flutter down to the mattress. "I-can't really hear you. I'm so sorry." His face becomes even redder than his birthmark as he blushes embarrassedly.

I immediately sure up at his apparently soft demeanor. I lift myself back to sitting. He's young, naíve. Maybe I can make this go my way with a little bit of gusto.

"That's Clickspring to you, bub," I point at him with some falsely inflated attitude. "Where the heck am I, I want some ans-"

"Hang on, hang on," the behemoth stifles a giggle. "I can’t even tell what you’re saying. Gosh your little voice is adorable,"

My complexion broke at his words and I could feel my face heat up, angry tears well up in my eyes as I shoot him a venomous glare.

"Ack- I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to offend you! Let me get down more so I can actually hear you. I am so, so sorry."

He continues to apologize as he lowers himself even further. It is a much more controlled movement this time, but even without the massive earthquakes his body can cause, his voice still hits like a physical blow. His massive, resonating vocal chords make even the lowest whisper rumble through the air like thunder.

I soon find myself looking into intelligent violet eyes vastly larger than my whole head as the giant lays down before me and thrusts the lower part of his face into the mattress. The warping of the surface almost tosses me forward toward him, but by some miracle I am able to hold on and stay still.

"I'm really sorry," he says again, the muffling of his voice by the mattress makes him much easier to listen to. "I really didn't mean any harm, I swear. I even brought some things to help those wounds." He brought a hand uncomfortably close to gesture, but was careful not to touch me.

I suddenly recalled the bad road burns on my head and arm, beginning to throb again now that my adrenaline rush was calming. I jumped as the man's eyes suddenly pinched shut for a moment.

"Crap, I didn't even tell you my name. Gianni would kill me for being so rude," His violet irises returned and locked on to me. "My name is Celio. Celio Featherson. What's yours?"

I couldn't help but stare blankly, taken aback by the irrational averageness of the situation. I can feel my body still shaking from weakness, anger, and embarrassment. As much as I want to, I can't quite summon up my voice and attitude. Here I sit mere feet away from a creature so  vastly different in scale to me that  he could quite literally obliterate me with a sneeze. Awkward moments stretch out between us. Celio patiently waits, but doesn’t turn his expectant periwinkle eyes away. I find myself beginning to be overtaken by panic.

"Hey, hey, it's alright, don't force yourself," He picks up his head from the mattress and shows me a soft, encouraging smile. "Let's get you all fixed up first. I'll just call you Sorellina in the meantime. That’s uh, ‘little sister’ in my native tongue. Sound like an okay arrangement? ...I'm still so sorry for what I said earlier, I didn't mean to break your confidence like that, that was an awful, jerky move on my part."

I nod, half assured. Suddenly those huge purple eyes widen even bigger. I narrow my own, confused.

"Shit, your ears are bleeding! H-hang on!"

With muscular arms he launches himself back to standing and rushes away with familiar quaking steps. I was accustomed to light auditory trauma, and my body was already in such pain, I hadn't even noticed the sudden perforation of my eardrums. What was one more thing?

“Damn it all, am I really that loud? Crap, what if she can’t hear at all anymore? What the heck do I do? What the hell do you even say when something like this happens? ‘Sorry I literally destroyed your ears?’ Damn it...” Celio mutters from an adjacent room. I hear glass jars clinking about as he searches for something. Guess I’m not quite deafened yet.

I breathe deep and submit to the ache for a few meditative moments. Usually I have to handle these kinds of things all by myself. Strange as this day was going, it was kind of nice to have some compassionate company for once. Celio obviously cared - it wasn’t his fault that he could only be so careful with his big body. Rough handling was kind of normal in the business of robot repair, so this wasn’t anything too new. Not that the robots at the inn meant to be cold or uncaring, they just weren't programmed for contact and companionship. People hated me for being small. It was infuriating and unfair, so I made a point not to hold the consequences of size against anyone.

Celio's quaking footsteps returned, and I finally got a quick look at his full body. He had a proportionally short, sturdy form that was highly muscled. His clothing, minimal: his shirt leaving his entire arms, shoulders, and the sides of his torso exposed. His pants were cut just below the knees, and he wore no embellishments whatsoever. Not even shoes to protect his feet. I brace myself as he crashes into a kneel. He sets a bundle of loose cotton fiber in front of me. I look at it confusedly for a moment. Then back up at him. He gestures at the soft bundle and then pantomimes a compressing motion with his fingers. He then swishes his bangs aside and makes a gesture toward one ear. Earplugs. Got it. Apparently we’re done with talking for now.

I follow his pantomimed instructions. By the time I finish, I smell the astringent sharpness of surgical spirits, and look up. I expect to be handed a swab to clean my wounds, but instead find a massive hand approaching with soaked cotton. I automatically begin to backpedal, but almost immediately find myself braced in place by another massive hand. I struggle against his hand with all my strength. I can clean my own damn wounds, dammit!

"Stop that. You can’t hold me back and I don’t want to hurt you. C’mon, this isn’t so bad, just take it easy." Back to whispering again.

The earplugs helped lessen the blow of his voice considerably, and they held off the bleeding. My struggling is brought to an abrupt end by a swift brushing of Celio’s thumb that pins my uninjured arm and body down effortlessly. I flinch and close my eyes as the cold medical alcohol comes into contact with my arm and dabs the burn repeatedly. It stings horribly.

"I know, I know, this stuff sucks. But you’re not a junk giant, you’ll get an infection if we don’t clean these. Can’t you little guys die that way? I will not let that happen. Keep your eyes closed, I'm doing the burn on your face now."

When the alcohol drenched swab and Celio's hands retreat, I relax, thinking the torture is done. Celio rifles around things on a tray he'd set on the end of the bed when he first came. A jar of herbal smelling salve is unscrewed, and suddenly I find myself caught by the giant once more. I struggle against his unyielding massive strength again to no avail. Instead of allowing my stubborn fight to continue, the junk giant scoops me up in his palm and effortlessly wraps his fingers around my entire body in an imprisoning arrangement.

"That's enough of that! It’s just one more tiny thing. Geez, I'm not hurting you." I can feel the quake of a soft laugh echo through his hand. Then a clearing of his throat as he recoiled. “Not that it’s funny or anything. You need this, just work with me for a minute. I don’t want to do this any more than you do.”

Celio opens his hand for but a moment and carefully snatches my injured arm, holding it up straight as he curls his fingers back up, supporting my comparatively miniscule limb between his middle and ring finger. I decide not to struggle, being squished against his unbearably warm palm is enough of a punishment.

The junk giant is shockingly gentle with his treatment. His hands might be huge, but they're as deft as a surgeon's. He barely applies any pressure to my body as he slathers my wounds with the minty, cooling salve. It frightens me to allow it, but he even manages to gently apply some to my cheek, opening his palm and lifting my head with an imprisoning thumb. Despite my discomfort I almost laugh at his intensely focused expression: face crinkled tight, one eye closed, and mouth  slanted tightly to one side. He finishes the job more quickly than expected, though leaves a massively thick layer of ointment on my wounds because of his vast size. I don't protest. Finally, his palm opens, and I scramble back to seated, taking in some cool air after being trapped next to his stiflingly warm skin.

"There. See, that wasn’t so bad, was it? That ointment should help the pain and fend off infection. We should let those wounds breathe a bit before we bandage them up. How about a cup of tea while we wait? I’m sure my brother has some snacks I could get into if you’re hungry: how about it?"

My blood is still boiling a bit from the last experience. Good intentions or not, being handled without permission is embarrassing. I hate not being given a choice, I allowed it, but now I need answers. I give him a stern glare from my position in his palm, and as loudly as I can manage, I give an order.

“Put me down. Now,” I say resolutely.

I am dizzied by a sudden move closer to his face. I crouch and try to maintain my balance, flinching away from his hot breath as I’m drawn to his level. The collective circumstances are dizzying, and I want to be down on solid ground more than ever.

“I-I’m sorry? Can you repeat that Sorrelina?”

Frustration boils through me. “I SAID PUT ME DOWN. NOW.”

The giant’s eyes grow wide and suddenly the world drops. I nearly faint as the big guy promptly follows my order. He spills me off onto the mattress again. I hold onto my stomach and spinning head, and my body flinches hard as I am hit with a sudden realization: I just yelled at a giant. Not a robot that will follow orders, but a fully autonomous person far outside my locus of control. I curl myself small, expecting anger, retaliation, violence even; but moments pass and nothing comes. I look back up at Celio. He appears concerned, a little hurt.

“Hey, you don't have to… Please, don't be scared like that. I promise, I would never hurt someone like you… Never on purpose anyway. I didn't save you from those lousy scavengers just to put you in harm's way myself. I mean, it’s not every day I get the chance to make a friend...”

The giant rises a bit and then very deliberately lays his head on the mattress next to me, making sure he was finally within earshot. I hesitantly plod closer and take a seat against his nose. The unexpected touch stirs a flinch that almost knocks me over.

“I hope you can forgive me for handling you like that. I just… I didn't want to risk you saying no to my help... I was afraid of what would happen if I didn't take care of your wounds.” His body shifted a little as his big arm swung overhead and covered his eyes embarrassedly. “I’ve heard littler folk can get such bad infections that you'll lose limbs or die. That doesn't happen to us giants. Our bodies are just too tough. I didn't know how long before it would be too late to stop it - y’know? Ugh, it’s probably a stupid assumption to make, but I was actually worried you’d die if I didn’t do anything,” he took a long, tentative pause. “Y’know Sorellina, I only really know four people. Two of them are my blood family so they don't even count... I just didn't want to lose potential friend number three before I even learned your name.”

I try to absorb the thought that someone other than a broken robot would want me around. To nearly every other organic person I've met, I'm 'just another borrower.' It is an unusual feeling to be wanted.

“Well, I guess we'd better get on it with the friend making business in case I get gangrene or something,” I chuckle, Celio doesn't seem to find it so funny. “Name's Kelly Clickspring. Everyone just calls me Clickspring... I think we might have some things in common, big guy.”

[welcome-to-junktown]

Junk Giant Sample ID Cards - The Featherson Brothers, AKA The Junk Brothers

ABOUT JUNK GIANTS

JUNKTOWN CANON

Characters (c) @kelly-scribes / @tinyscribes

Tribal Hawk (c) Pwnisim

[kelly-clickspring]

Can we learn more about Iggy? Does he end up befriending smols and tols? What's his favorite way to hold a smol? Does he like to snuggle, etc?

I would love to tell you more about Iggy! I'm hoping to eventually post his and Ozzy's story, it's currently sitting in my google drive at 50 pages long while I search for the inspo to finish and edit. Maybe this will help inspire me!

Iggy is a bit of a recovering shut-in, he has some pretty severe PTSD after a shipwreck that's been unaddressed, and seizing control of his life until just recently in his story. He's seeing a human-sized robot doctor about it and making strides, but he still has hard days. Sometimes he just stays in bed and Ozzy will come keep him company, drawing him pictures or playing word games and whatnot. (here's a cute sketch of that I haven't gotten around to finishing yet)

He is starting to get out though. He's friends with the Featherson brothers Gianni and Celio, some more giants from the JunkTown universe. Ozzy is the first small folk he's actually managed to meet officially, but he does meet and befriend more!

His favorite way to hold small folk is to basically become furniture. He is terrified of hurting anyone and has utmost respect for smaller folk, so he'll always put out a hand or allow them mobility to be where they want to be, trying not to grab hold or restrict them in any way unless it's an emergency or he doesn't know a better way. He likes it when Ozzy rides around in his chest pocket or on his shoulder because it makes him feel trusted.

Iggy loves being hugged and interacted with, and would gladly snuggle up or be a warm spot for small folk. Junk giants like him have a higher body temperature than humans and small folk, and he's used that to help ease Ozzy's chronic pain. He knows Ozzy doesn't usually appreciate touch though because of their fibro, and considers it a big honor when Ozzy occasionally falls asleep in his hand or tucked in his collar when they're having bad pain days.

In the earlier days of his recovery you'll find Iggy at home much of the time, so he does ham radio, with Ozzy after they become comfortable with one another. He goes by "Southern Charm" before he's ready to give new folk his name. Prior to the shipwreck he was very social. He makes up for his lack of smarts with his kindness, charm, and genuine interest in the endeavors of others that make him a hoot to be around. He loves music and collects it to broadcast to the local JunkTown area, and thinks it's a joy to sing and dance with folk.

Here's his (still very much WIP) spotify playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6NziEitKBoFDeAPVMMTgLw?si=158b8ac140ff403d

[kelly-clickspring]

No way I’d get this past the filter bot because of that salacious nipple, but I redid Celio’s ID card, and for laughs I put the image I painted for it next to the very first iteration of Celio way back in 2013, and I’m pretty stoked with my progress over the last 6 years! It’s a little ironic that the first one was from the year I graduated from high school, whereas this new one is now from the year I graduate with my first degree!

[kelly-clickspring]

@welcome-to-junktown Inktober Day 1 - Costume

The rest are probably not going to be of this level of finish, but these have been going for awhile, so I thought I’d use them! This is the Featherson Brothers’ costumes for the Harvest Festival. Celio is a strong, protective Minotaur guarding his brother, the spirit/god of merriment and good harvests (...basically Dionysus). 

Celio and Gianni Featherson (c) @kelly-clickspring

[kelly-clickspring]

This piece is a collaboration with the wonderful @blueskimmer!

I sketched and lined, @blueskimmer added the amazing insects, color, and shade!

Celio is a great listener and an eager learner. J being an explorer and  entomologist would certainly be someone that big C could get along with. Here, we have J teaching Celio about the traits and habits of some local insects! Celio is absolutely content to listen and participate, as smaller things usually scatter in fear at his presence, and he never gets such close experience. He’ll certainly want to repay J for their kind tutoring! 

J.Rivet (c) @blueskimmer

Celio Featherson (c) @kelly-scribes

[kelly-clickspring]

JunkTown Inktober #3 - Old Pals 

Still technically a day behind, but I’m having so much fun with these prompts I don’t mind a bit! Just gonna keep rolling at my own pace and continue to enjoy what happens!

Wapasha Longshadow has lived with the Featherson brothers since he was quite young. Celio has very much adopted him as a brother and they’ve been the best of friends for many years. One of their favorite things to do is to roughhouse and wrestle, which can get a little dangerous when you have a literal ton of weight being thrown around between two rambunctious young giants. They usually end up having to clean up quite the mess, but they’re good humored about it! 

Wapasha Longshadow © @ruthlessamor

Celio Featherson © @kelly-clickspring

[kelly-clickspring]

JunkTown Inktober Day 2 - Music

Theme Music

I got a wee bit carried away with this one, but I was really enjoying it! I’ve been heavily involved in music in the past, especially folk music, so this brought up fond memories. I played violin, guitar, and sang for many years but I’m thinking of switching to mandolin, like Celio here, and perhaps getting back with a band and playing locally again. 

Celio and his brother are both musically inclined. Though I drew a fairly standard looking mandolin for the sake of time, they have homemade equivalents of mandolin and guitar to match their size. They love to sing and play music, especially when friends are around to listen. I’d like to think the two of them would do a duet or two at the Harvest Festival! 

[kelly-clickspring]

For Welcome to JunkTown’s Prompt No.4 - Childhood Fears and the Urban Myth

Celio Featherson and Artwork © @kelly-scribes

Celio came to JunkTown from Italy when he was very young. He barely spoke any English, and was integrated into a daycare type facility to learn the language and some basic skills during the day while his parents and Gianni worked on the construction of the current Featherson Farm. The children who were being cared for there were groundbound humans, Celio being the sole Junk Giant among the group. Legends of Giants being hostile and animalistic caused the children to greatly fear him. Celio himself, not yet fluent enough in English to understand, did not realize the children were afraid of him, and developed his own fear of giants, not cognizant of the fact that he is one at the time. This irrationality led to the children being unafraid of him, but also lead to continual teasing throughout his childhood that contributed to Celio’s adulthood dysphoria about his size, and his obsession with solitary exercise to keep himself appearing more menacing, in order to scare away those who would do him harm. The comfort object he's holding in this picture is an afghan blanket knitted by his human Nonna, he still has it to this day, tucked away with other memories in a box beneath his dresser.

[kelly-clickspring]

I didn’t have any plans to get involved in Mermay, but I figured why not do at least one just for fun?

So here’s Celio as a thresher shark mer, protecting some anthropomorphized jellies! From what I’m not sure, but he sure looks cool with a harpoon javelin!

Digital Commissions are still open if anyone is interested!

Buy Me a Coffee

[kelly-clickspring]

The Featherson boys being brotherly! Celio’s not too fond of gardening, and he works hard at the JunkTown clinic, so odds are good Gianni’s on his own unless he can find someone else to help him. 

Kinda sorta went for a cinematic movie capture kinda thing, but also I just thought it looked nice. SO... 

Featherson Boys (c) Kelly-Clickspring

[welcome-to-junktown]

The JunkTown Harvest Festival is officially on! Come one, come all and share the bounties of the summer! All are welcome! Answers to any of the prompts are welcome from the beginning of September to the end of October! A new post with updated prompts will be made each year to keep it fresh and exciting. This post is for 2018, but these prompts are always valid during Harvest Fest season if you like them.

Harvest Festival Fun Prompts are explained below the cut! Check them out and join in as you please! You do not have to enter, you do not have to use other people’s characters, but inclusion and interaction is encouraged! Everyone have fun! 

Undertown is available for those who do not want to have their borrower characters be out in the open. It is essentially a town built into the foundation of the Featherson farm that only a chosen few know about. Gianni will take you there safely if your borrower OC doesn’t feel comfortable. The carnival there is a mirror of the Harvest Festival, just scaled down and built with a variety of tiny objects for safety and fun for little folk! 

HF1 - Barter the Bounties of Your Trade Because of the rugged dystopian surroundings, many folks of JunkTown have become very proficient at creating wares for trade in order to fill their needs, and barter for what they can not make or grow themselves. What does your character make? Write about their trek to the festival bringing goods to trade, or draw them set up at a booth, showing off their wares, or for even more fun, have them barter with another character in JunkTown! Characters can barter anything from homegrown fruits and veggies to artisan crafts to baked goods - anything they can carry with them. Examples could be forged weaponry, basketry, jewelry, homemade sweets, you name it! Gianni for example barters the fruits of his harvest, whereas Clickspring barters clockwork jewelry she makes in her rare moments of free time. Saqui Burbek and Kelly Clickspring will be in this area keeping an eye on things so everyone gets a square deal. They may have wares to trade, and they’re also there for interaction if you need someone to talk to your character! 

HF2 - Play Classic Carnival Games At the entrance of the festival, there are set up many fun carnival games for characters to partake in. Just like games at the county fair, they offer the promise of prizes for those who excel - including gifts such as hand stitched teddy bears and homemade sweets. Draw or write about your character joining in on the fun! Does your character need a friend to join in? No worries! There are friendly characters posted at each game station that can join your contributions if you so choose! -Ring Toss -- A carnival favorite, the ring toss, is aptly run by Clayton and Gillian! The two potters made a massive variety of white ceramic bottles, sized for humans, Junk Giants, and even borrowers! Everyone is welcome to give it a try, hit one of the bottles that’s painted yellow scattered about the menagerie to win a fantastic prize! Plushies and sweets for the closer wins, and a big ceramic trophy filled with sweets, made by Clay, if someone manages to hit one of the yellow bottles in the back of the booth.  -Dunk Tank -- Knock our sassy Casanova Roger, or any Junktowners willing to risk getting soaked, into our junk giant sized dunk tank! There will be no escaping getting drenched if whoever is throwing has good aim! No prizes here, just the satisfaction of seeing an insult-slinging giant or your best buddy soaked to the bone if you can hit the target!  -Darts -- a tricky game that Wellwire and Shoebot don’t plan to make easy on you! Work past the tricky aerodynamics of the darts and the distractions of the dynamic duo - if you manage to hit the bulls-eye big prizes and bragging rights await! Maybe a few smaller prizes for the inner rings too, just to be fair.  -High Striker/Arm Wrestling Booth -- Celio and Wapasha run the two strength testers - you can arm wrestle them or another JunkTown friend. Or you can test your strength at the two homemade high strikers (one for humans, one for Junk Giants that brave humans can make an attempt at if they so choose). Win a plush for your favorite friend, or just take home bragging rights, up to you!  -Bobbing for Apples -- think you can grab an apple without using your hands? What about if it’s floating in a big ol’ tank of water? Not as easy as it looks! Iggy and Ozzy will be there to encourage you though, no one will leave without one of the sweet, perfectly ripe apples from the Featherson Orchard. 

HF3 - Music and Performances Just as it sounds, there will be constant music, comedy acts, poetry and prose, and general fun coming from the stage set up near the farmhouse! The mic is open, and any character can jump up and show off their costume, take the spotlight with a song, read a poem about the harvest, tell a story - whatever you choose! If we’re lucky a professional like Cio might sing a song for us! 

HF4 - Costume Party The Festival is a constant costume party - basically JunkTown’s version of Halloween! Traditionally, the costumes are to give praise to the spirits of the harvest, so you may dress as an image of your interpretation of a harvest spirit. Another traditional costume theme is to dress as a scary beast or scalawag to scare away those who would tamper with the bounties of the harvest. Creepy, cute, funny, or strong, really any costume is a win in JunkTown get creative and think of what your character could wear! It could even just be a fancy outfit if that’s what you like! Keep it SFW though!

HF5 - Drinks, Feasting, and Merriment Your character doesn’t have to be limited to bringing trade goods to the festival. If they just want to come and have a good time, there’s a constant picnic near the farmhouse where folks can eat food brought by any number of JunkTown residents - take it to the table, or trade it at a booth! If you think up something your character could bring,show us or write about how they made it! Gianni is a chef extraordinaire - bound to keep bellies full with grilled kabobs including all manner of fare from the surrounding area, as well as homemade cider and pie! You’ll find him cooking, serving food, or being jovial to those at the tables enjoying their meals should you need someone to interact with - Noble is always by his side should you need someone smaller to talk to!