SHIP'S LOG:

Albion

Florence Twofoot 8/11/2026 9:51pm

"She's hungry! It's the smell of those cakes that's driving her mad!" I holler at @Adam Sol. We're in hot pursuit of @The Dollbomination across the warehouse district of Peppermint Bay, following her wake of destruction.

"But... cake?" ol' Adam pants back. "She's got a head full of rats, Why aren't they headed to the cheese?"

"No stinky cheese in Peppermint Bay," I reply with the old adage. "And besides, she's only rats on the inside. On the outside--"

"--she's a giant doll," finishes ol' Adam. "And prone to dolly things."

The Dollbomination makes good time, not stopping to rampage custard carts or assault lollipop girls. Just destroying anything in its way.

"There's probably the seed to a clever plan in that," I respond. "But for now, I say we just wait till she stuffs herself silly with cake and passes out."

Peppermint Bay News 4/14/2026 11:06pm

MONSTER IN SWEETSVILLE

A large monster ran amuck today on Crackerjack Lane, shortly after tea. We do not use the word "monster" lightly as the creature was described as an 8 foot tall doll with rats in its head.

Many bon bons were terrified. One lemonade stand was destroyed.

The horrific giant fled into the warehouse district, near the chocolate bar. Townsfolk are asked to stay inside their homes until this menace has been captured or otherwise prevented from terrorizing our streets.

Adam Sol 12/13/2025 11:36pm

Customs at Peppermint Bay is mercifully lax. And there's a budget for making ad hoc arrangements.

"Can you at least stop the moaning? People are staring." says @Florence Twofoot.

Leaving @The Dollbomination unattended onboard would have been a huge mistake. She has a short attention span, and is awake a lot.

I open up the little speaking hatch I made in the crate up near her face.

"Shhhhhhh... you just rest, girl. We're taking you to a park! It won't be long now."

Lax customs security or not, the inhabitants of Peppermint Bay would no doubt react in shock if they saw the Dollbomination walking down the streets on her own accord. So we built a crate big enough to hold her, and were wheeling her through the streets, like transporting a piece of art, or a body...

"MAAAA-MAAAAAA!"

"Shut that baby up!" hisses Florence.

Randi Quarter 8/18/2025 3:13pm

"Peppermint Bay ahoy!" I cry. I cry it from the bridge and into the speaking tubes.

The rest of the crew is too exhausted to respond. Most of them remain curled up in their bunks, still suffering delayed stress from the reign of the Doll Bosses. And though she's our liberator, it's been hard for the crew to be anything but terrified of the Dollbomination.

A good bit of shore leave is what all of us need. I just worry how we'll make it through quarantine.

Florence Twofoot 4/26/2025 9:32pm

The Dollbomination was a horrendous mess, but she got the job done.

Rats for brains added a certain mammalian familiarity to her attitudes, and she seems a natural enemy of the dolls haunted by spiders. Her tremendous size didn't hurt either, crashing from deck to deck smashing the doll bosses to pieces, spiders scattering.

Unlike the dolls haunted by spiders she has an actual liking for food, not just the ritual of tea parties. She even seems to enjoy her time with the dishwasher, as he carefully places bits of Chef Chloe's waffles into her open mouth.

"Maaa-ma!"

Also, thankfully, she has no agenda, so we have retaken the bridge and are sailing for Peppermint Bay.

The Dollbomination 1/2/2025 11:32pm

MAAAA-MAAAAAA! MAAAAAAA-MAAAAAAAA!

Dishwater Meat 9/7/2024 11:10pm

I don't know why old @Adam Sol and @Florence Twofoot think I'm the one for this job.

"Because you're the one who takes out the garbage," Florence says.

Well, they've got a point with that, I guess. Not that there's that much garbage to be taken out anymore. Just crumbs from the waffles. And entire waffles, since the Haunted Dolls don't touch theirs. Old Adam Sol thinks they draw some kind of sustenance from them, invisibly. Maybe that's the source of the smoke that you see them blowing off the back deck sometimes.

"Even crumbs are enough for rats," Florence says.

I keep a tight ship, garbage-wise. And the airways the dolls have us on are eerily uninhabited, so dumping the garbage out the chute has been easier than usual to get away with. It's night and you see no lights below... well you know the old saying "No lights at night, the time must be right!" and you pull the lever and hear the waffles whistle in the wind.

You never get it all out though, even if you give it a good sweep.... Sure, the Abion's got a few rat stowaways, like any ship. And Butch, my old friend and one-eyed ship's cat, disappeared not long after the dolls arrived.

In any case, the remaining rats--surviving purely on the waffle crumbs--are pretty wretched little things. And skittish.

"Just give us enough crumbs to put in the big doll's head," Florence said. But I knew that wouldn't be enough to coax them in. They'd need a familiar and trusted face.

"Here little ratty little ratty. Here little ratty," I whisper.

"Shhhh," says Florence. "It'll bring the dolls."

Adam Sol 5/17/2024 10:52pm

"MA MAAAAAAAA"

"Pull the plug!" Florence Twofoot cried. "The Doll Bosses will hear!"

"MA MAaaaaa....."

The giant haunted doll dwindled to back to sleep like a set of deflating bagpipes.

"Well now we know the bellows work," I said.

"They won't do her any good if she can't stay on her feet."

"Which would be a lot easier if we went with more legs."

"No. She needs to be just like in the blueprints. Bipedal."

"She'd be scarier with four legs. Or just a bunch of squirming agitators. Like a star fish."

"Creating a race of abominations would be worse that what we have now. Just go with the traditional design."

"Your plans include no requirements for the brain."

"You've been inside their heads. You know there's nothing there."

"I've found things. Dead spiders. Sometimes a note."

"The doll body is only a vessel. What inhabits it..."

We both shudder.

"Is what crawls inside," we both said.

Adam Sol 1/25/2024 10:34pm

Florence Twofoot's blueprints were disturbing. The kind of thing passed around at criminal science parties while inhaling noxious fumes. Not that I would know anything about that. They went against every grain of our instruction, our oath. The kind of thing confiscated by the Oracular.

"You drew these? Yourself?" I asked.

Florence had seen the same kinds of drawings I had, at one time or another. The kind of thing you didn't talk about. And she a doctor.

"Do you see another way out?" she asked. "We'll never see that shore leave on Peppermint Bay. They won't stop till we've all died from malnutrition or gone mad."

She was already clearly mad. But she wasn't wrong.

Florence Twofoot 10/5/2023 9:57pm

It was clear the haunted dolls didn't want to be fixed.

They made that very clear.

Rather to succumb to a life of fear, hiding in the shadows of the disused corners of the Albion, living on candied waffles, I decided to put my knowledge of anatomy to use. Originally, this was just a strategy to keep from going mad. Something to occupy my mind in my waking hours, utilizing what was left of my higher executive function.

I began a project. Using the great store of spare haunted doll parts curated by old @Adam Sol, I set out to build the largest haunted doll I could. Claiming a disused cargo hold, I constructed a massive work table, and procured a few great winches from the mechanical room and a number of power tools.

And I presented Adam Sol with my blueprints.