CaSCULvania

It was a dark and stormy night, in our hearts. A cadre of vampires, vampire hunters, bats, and bloodfeasters set out in search of a castle, under a full moon and the stellar navigation of Cosima. Leotard spun a fabulous tale on the launchpad of bats named Harold helping each other find their way while laying out the rules of the echolocation challenge for poonts, while also explaining the arcane functions of our many "bags". Wombat's extraordinary and unsuitable outfit was the cynosure of all eyes.

Led by an unsteady, forgetful tard with a bizarre, erratic playlist, we fared through darkening, dankening byways toward our home of ancient times, pausing at an Earth golf course to make worship and sacrifice of the Great Mushroom. A fine trove of space ejecta was discovered, and our first round of echolocation went well -- OK tard ran into a pole but survived.

Snax were consumed at Davis Constellation, including extremely unsavory twinkoids scavenged by 3speed from God knows where. They bleed when you bite them...in blood is life eternal, but coconut twinkies, really?

Perversely choosing to ascend every g-well, we spiraled toward the crenellated zenith of Somerville. Pastry Queen and eXceSs materialized! We were hampered from echolocating at midnight due to a mechanical and a long and (one imagines) blissful fuel dump which caused mission failure, but shall such trifles hamper our ascent? The echoing air repeats it: THEY SHALL NOT. Zooming past many and more pilot forts, we reached at last the strangely sigilled heights. Lawn bowling and the throwing of a deadly sharpened annulus were all our games.

We climbed the tower toward the smoky moon, under the glorious eye of Glundandra; an eldritch cry burst from my throat as we summitted! I regret any inconvenience to innocent food, yet withal lol. Lmao. Cosima compounded potent Blood Spritzers, which we enjoyed while trespassing upon the Forbiddden Level, where one of Somerville's bonus cheevo stars may be collected.

Thence we flew casual home, howling power ballads at the moon, arriving sated or drained as was each our lot, at a seemly hour to return to our coffins (or caves in the case of our Wer-wolf contingent). Good evening, stay safe, we patrol so you don't need to know what's out there.

Chic to Wombat (pls note he picked this over the option of Strength)
Chic to Leotard for takin' it from Nosferatu to Tarantino
Patronage to Cosima for bartending prowess
Honorable mention to Dr Claw for playlist help and contribs
And shout out to Giro for power guesting!