Things were rather busy at The Witch's atelier. Outside of that oh so giant and large pumpkin she called home, many were at work. Members of her ever growing army were practicing their fighting skills, trading blows with spears, swords, fists, and just about anything else that could count as a weapon. The women were all rather, well, they stood out, donning bright hair and sparkling leotards. The men? They wore loincloths, even in this cold. That's dedication right there.
Pumpkinheads as always, were milling about, though skeletons and icegoblins were in the mix nowadays. A small group of skeletons were gathered around a little purple calf, clapping and running around it as if amused. It didn't appear to be in any sort of danger though, as the skeletons really were just fond of the little thing. They just couldn't smile to express that, but the laughter spoke that for them.
The Witch. The Self Proclaimed Queen and Leader of Rhydin. Where was she at? Why she was sound asleep in a hammock not too far from all the excitement, her little witch hat pulled over her face, and in her hands? A copy of the latest Gossip GangStar.
She was obviously hard at work.
