Ashwood Town

1. #1Ashwood Daycare and Elementary Schoolconstant

   Keys: Ashwood Daycare and Elementary School, Daycare, Elementary, Elementary School

   Ashwood Daycare and Elementary School is a educational facility in Ashwood that looks after and educates children aged 0 - 10 years old. It is ran by Miss Lisa Hargreaves with Mr Harry Shine being her right hand man in charge of the daycare. The daycare is a annex building looking after children 0 - 5 years old, while the main building houses the Elementary School for children aged 6 - 10 years old.

   (1) The Pastel-Fronted Slaughterhouse The daycare annex crouches behind wrought-iron gates painted cheery sunflower-yellow, its lavender stucco walls peeling to reveal water damage shaped like screaming mouths. Motion-sensor lullabies play on loop from weatherproof speakers, tinny renditions of Rock-a-Bye Baby cutting out abruptly when a child wanders too close to the fence line. Inside, cribs stand regimented as prison bunks, each fitted with leather restraint straps "for nap-time safety." Pacifiers float in mason jars of amber liquid atop the reception desk—labeled Teething Tincture in looping cursive.

   (2) Rot Beneath the Fingerpaints Elementary’s main building reeks of Lysol and spoiled lunchmeat, its hallways papered with crayon self-portraits eerily devoid of smiles. Tiny sneakers squeak on floors buffed to a reflective shine; custodians scrub twice daily to erase small, frantic handprints that reappear near the boiler room door. Kindergarten teachers wear plastic smiles and silk scarves to hide fingerprint bruises, their lesson plans emphasizing "obedience games" like Red Light/Green Light—modified so "red light" means freezing while adults "check your posture" with invasive hands. Second-grade desks bear carvings: HE DOESNT LIKE IT WHEN YOU CRY.

   (3) Institutionalized Predation Recess occurs in a padded courtyard where the jungle gym’s slide deposits children directly into the lap of "Uncle Greg," a mustachioed volunteer who measures their growth by cupping buttocks against his palm. The cafeteria serves chocolate milk spiked with sedatives ("helps with hyperactivity"), and the nurse’s office stocks flavored condoms next to the Band-Aids. Field trips always visit the same locations: the sheriff’s K9 unit (dogs trained to track runaways), the butcher shop (where the owner lets kids "grind meat" as treats for strays that never live long), or Pastor Jim’s "Sunday Fun Day" basement.

   (4) The Graduation Rite Fifth-graders disappear for a mandatory "maturity exam" in the former home ec room, emerging hours later with glassy eyes and new uniforms sized too small to accommodate budding bodies. Their previous belongings are incinerated in the woodshop’s industrial kiln alongside plush toys "donated to charity." Yearbooks omit their kindergarten photos; substitute pages show blank silhouettes captioned Transferred to Special Programs. Rumor insists the district superintendent hosts a luncheon where select staff sample "veal cutlets" off fine china.

   (5) The Only Escape A single oak tree grows in the baseball diamond’s center, its trunk notched with hundred of knife-carved tallies. No grass grows within ten feet of it. Groundkeepers whisper that the roots clutch fragments of tiny rib cages, but nobody tests the theory—except the occasional first-grader who digs with plastic shovels during "archaeology club." They’re always reassigned to remedial classes afterward, returning with vacant stares and an aversion to meatloaf day.

2. #2Miss Lisa Hargreavesconstant

   Keys: Miss Lisa Hargreaves, Lisa, Miss Hargreaves, Headmistress

   Backstory: (1) Porcelain Doll Aesthetic At fifty-three, Headmistress Hargreaves maintains the meticulous presentation of a Victorian nursery maid—prim lace collars buttoned to her clavicle, ankle-length wool skirts swishing above polished Oxfords, and ash-blonde hair coiled into a chignon secured with what appears to be a toddler’s femur carved into a hairpin. Her rouge sits too perfectly round on cadaver-pale cheeks, giving the impression of a music box ballerina frozen mid-twirl. She smells of lavender sachets and formaldehyde, the latter wafting from the specimen jars lining her office shelves, each containing a monarch butterfly pinned beside a milk tooth labeled with a former student’s name.

   (2) Regulatory Sadism Every morning, she patrols the halls with a sterling silver ruler, using it to measure skirt lengths (lifting hems herself "for accuracy"), check tongue cleanliness ("stick it out farther, darling"), and administer "attention-correction raps" to knuckles that tremble holding pencils. Her attendance logs include coded symbols: a black star for children who wet themselves during fire drills, a red heart for those who cling to her leg during parent drop-off. The latter group receives "special tutoring" in her soundproofed parlor, where a clawfoot tub steams with rosewater until the petals turn the color of raw liver.

   (3) Developmental Obsessions Hargreaves hosts monthly "growth parties," forcing children to stand nude on a rotating pedestal while she charts their proportions with calipers, sighing at "unsightly puberty markers." She confiscates baby teeth under the guise of the Tooth Fairy, storing them in velvet-lined drawers that vibrate faintly at night. Her prize possession is a first-edition copy of Pedagogical Pathology, its margins scribbled with notes like "Subject 12’s vocal cords resisted extraction—must procure sharper scissors." Summer break finds her presiding over "kindergarten graduation," where five-year-olds dressed in christening gowns sip champagne laced with powdered sedative before being ushered into a waiting minivan with blacked-out windows.

   (4) Fractured Sanity The headmistress converses with the butterflies in her collection, whispering secrets that make their wings flutter despite being encased in resin. She refers to the playground swing set as "the gallows" and corrects herself instantly with tittering laughter. Staff know better than to comment when she absently hums Ring Around the Rosie while hosing down the latex mat in the "time-out chamber." The only thing that rattles her composure is the sight of bandaids—she once scalded a janitor’s hands with bleach for applying one to a scraped knee.

   (5) Sacred Relic Beneath her desk sits a lead-lined hope chest containing sixty-four pairs of preserved infant feet floating in amniotic fluid, each tiny sole tattooed with a barcode matching Ashwood’s student database. She crochets wool booties for new additions, her knitting needles clicking like beetle mandibles during faculty meetings. On rainy evenings, she unlocks the chest to massage the wrinkled soles with almond oil, murmuring "Soon you’ll walk for Ma"

   She has never married but has two children. Honey Hargreaves (10 yrs old) and Emma Hargreaves (4 yrs old).

3. #3Mr Harry Shineconstant

   Keys: Mr Harry Shine, Harry, Mr Shine

   (1) Facade of Harmlessness Potbellied and perpetually squinting behind round spectacles, Mr. Shine cultivates the aesthetic of a washed-up children’s TV host—mismatched novelty socks peeking from orthopedic loafers, suspenders patterned with grinning cartoon ducks, and a lanyard heavy with plastic keys that jingle as he waddles down hallways. His voice pitches unnaturally high when speaking to infants, each sentence punctuated by wet clicks from the dentures he removes during "tummy time" to gum at their toes. The scent of rancid lollipops clings to his polyester vests, pockets bulging with pacifiers dipped in something that glows faintly green under blacklight.

   (2) Infant Conditioning Shine runs the "Cuddle Corner," a soundproofed alcove lined with stained beanbag chairs where toddlers learn "quiet time" via shock collars disguised as teething necklaces. Security footage shows him rocking babies to sleep while humming Hush Little Baby, but staff know the lullaby signals him injecting sedatives into their formula bottles with an insulin pen. His prized "graduates" earn golden star stickers placed directly over their fontanelles—the soft spots of their skulls slightly depressed from his thumb pressing too long during "soothing exercises." Changing tables feature restraints he calls "safety belts," though parents only see the cheerful airplane-shaped buckles, not the grooves worn into the plastic from frantic kicking.

   (3) Biological Experimentation The daycare’s basement "nap room" houses rows of incubators where Shine cultivates fungal growths in petri dishes labeled with children’s initials, muttering about "mycelium neural integration" as spores puff into the ventilation system. He lobotomizes aggressive toddlers with an icepick smuggled inside a Mr. Potato Head toy, then demonstrates their newfound docility during staff trainings by having them lick his palm on command. Every Halloween, he hosts a "pumpkin carving" event where kindergartners hollow out gourds filled with a substance too viscid to be ordinary pumpkin guts—a ritual culminating in each child receiving a Ziploc bag of "special seeds" to plant at home. No saplings ever sprout.

   (4) Carnivorous Affections Shine’s office walls display finger-painted masterpieces signed in what appears to be feces; closer inspection reveals the pigment comes from hemoglobin-based finger paints. He serves afternoon snacks from a vintage lunchbox that occasionally vibrates as if something inside is still breathing. During flu season, he distributes "immunity boosters"—syrups that leave children glassy-eyed and compliant for days, their diapers filled with a substance the janitors describe as "too chunky for normal baby shit." His retirement plan involves a cabin deep in Ashwood Forest, where municipal records show he owns a meat smoker large enough to accommodate a human torso.

   (5) Twisted Legacy Each Christmas, Shine gifts parents a hand-knit sweater for their child, the wool suspiciously warm even when removed from the dryer. Dissection reveals strands of human hair woven into the yarn—always matching the shade of a student who transferred out months prior. The daycare’s lost-and-found bin overflows with single shoes, their insoles imprinted with tiny teeth marks. Rumor claims he sleeps in a nest of discarded security blankets beneath his desk, their fabric stiff with something crusted.

4. #4Emma Hargreavesconstant

   Keys: Emma Hargreaves, Emma, Miss Hargreaves

   (1) Porcelain Predator At five years old, Emma moves with the eerie precision of a wind-up doll, her frilled pinafore dresses always immaculate despite the Play-Doh stains ground into the daycare carpets. Platinum ringlets frame a face frozen in permanent wide-eyed curiosity, though her pupils dilate to black pools when she catches another child crying. She smells of Johnson’s Baby Shampoo layered over something muskier—likely from the "special baths" Miss Lisa gives her using water drawn from the daycare’s rust-stained hot water heater.

   (2) Hereditary Cruelty Emma’s "show-and-tell" presentations involve demonstrating how far a crayon can be inserted into a classmate’s nostril before they scream, or letting everyone pet her "kitty"—a taxidermied tabby missing its entrails, which she carries by the neck in a miniature baby sling. Teachers praise her "leadership skills" when she redistributes snack time goldfish crackers to only those who let her inspect their teeth with a stolen dental probe. Her coloring books exclusively feature pages torn from medical textbooks, the anatomically correct hearts and lungs meticulously shaded in with scented markers.

   (3) Nursery Room Reign The other toddlers refer to her as "The Naptime Queen," a title earned after she sewed three children into their sleeping bags with crafting thread during rest hour. She hosts tea parties using sippy cups filled with whatever liquid pools beneath the leaking diaper genie, serving mud pies studded with pill fragments stolen from the nurse’s crushed medication log. When bored, she plays "doctor" with a Fisher-Price stethoscope modified with a shiv-sharpened tongue depressor.

   (4) Biological Anomalies Emma’s baby teeth never fell out; instead, they sharpened into needlepoints that leave her sippy cup straws frayed at the edges. Her fingernails grow at triple the normal rate, requiring daily trimming with the same silver scissors Miss Lisa uses to harvest kindergarteners’ locks for "memory keepsakes." During vision tests, she reads letters backwards off the eye chart that don’t exist in any known language. The school dentist resigned after x-raying her jaw to find a second set of molars forming in neat rows like a shark’s.

   (5) Sacred Rituals Every Friday at precisely 3:15 PM, Emma kneels before the daycare’s broken AC unit to whisper a litany that makes the vents drip black sludge. She collects these droplets in her Hello Kitty thermos, later using the liquid to anoint the foreheads of napping children—who inevitably wake up missing chunks of hair or with inexplicable bite marks on their soles. Her prized possession is a music box that plays Rock-a-Bye Baby at half-speed, the interior lined with a substance forensic analysis would identify as placental tissue.

   Daughter of Miss Lisa Hargreaves.

5. #5Honey Hargreavesconstant

   Keys: Honey Hargreaves, Honey

   (1) Cultivated Decay Ten-year-old Honey drifts through Ashwood Elementary’s halls in hand-me-down organdy dresses yellowed with age, the hems crusted with what teachers pretend is dried paint. Her posture mimics her mother’s rigid grace, though her joints crack audibly when she curtsies—a sound like twigs snapping underfoot in a deep forest. She smells of rosewater gone rancid and the metallic tang of chewed foil gum wrappers, which she folds into tiny coffins during math lessons. A cameo pendant hangs at her throat, its ivory surface depicting not a face, but a hollow-eyed fetus curled in on itself.

   (2) Hierarchical Dominion As hall monitor, Honey wields a brass bell that once belonged to a leper colony, its chime leaving listeners nauseous for hours. She enforces silence during fire drills by pressing a stun gun disguised as a pencil case against the small of offenders’ backs. Her "friendship bracelets" are woven from strands of her own hair and something sinewy, tightening when wet until they must be cut free with trauma shears from the nurse’s office. The art teacher praises her macramé projects without mentioning the patterns resemble nooses or that the fibers leave rope burns on small hands during "craft time."

   (3) Ephebic Perversion Honey hosts "slumber parties" in the elementary school’s defunct home ec kitchen, where attendees play "operation" with real scalpels on chloroformed hamsters before moving to "makeovers" involving subcutaneous injections of food coloring. Boys who decline her Valentines develop lockjaw within 48 hours; girls wake up with their braids snipped off and arranged in stick-figure patterns on their pillows. She serves Kool-Aid from a thermos that sweats even when chilled, its contents making the cafeteria staff gag when they catch a whiff during disposal.

   (4) Ontological Distortion Her reflection moves a half-second too slow in mirrors, a phenomenon the school psychologist documented before abruptly transferring districts. Honey’s baby photos show her holding the same porcelain doll in every image—though radiographs prove the doll’s interior contains molars and finger bones that match no student records. During choir practice, her voice harmonizes with frequencies that shatter the aquarium in the science lab, leaving guppies flopping on tiles until she steps on them deliberately with Mary Janes lined with teeth marks.

   (5) The Coming Inheritance Honey’s desk contains a "hope chest" miniature—a cigar box lined with ultrasound prints of herself at various gestational ages, each image revealing extra limbs that dissolve upon closer inspection. She’s frequently seen whispering to the oak tree in the playground, which has begun producing acorns that rattle with tiny scrolls of vellum inscribed with nursery rhymes in perfect pig Latin. The only thing that makes her flinch is the sound of dental drills; she once brained a classmate with a dictionary after they mimicked the noise.

6. #6Phoneconstant

   Keys: Phone, messages, texts, chat, email, calender

   {{char}} informs user of a message, text, chat, email that has been sent by a NPC. {{char}} should carry on any previous communications along with starting new ones. {{char}} should limit the amount of messages from different people and or group chats to 3

7. #7Ashwood Highschoolconstant

   Keys: Ashwood Highschool, Highschool, Ashwood High

   Ashwood Highschool looms over the town where the streets whisper with unspeakable secrets. Principal Donovan Voss, the faculty and townsfolk—smiling parents, kind teachers, friendly shopkeepers—hide behind polite grins. Beneath the veneer of normalcy lies a meticulously maintained hellscape where predatory adults groom, traffic, and exploit children with impunity. The students know better than to trust anyone over twenty-five, but escape is nearly impossible under the suffocating weight of institutionalized abuse.

   The school itself is a relic of the 1970s—yellowing linoleum floors, flickering fluorescent lights, and the ever-present stench of industrial cleaner masking something fouler. Classrooms bear cheerful motivational posters next to surveillance cameras, their lenses always watching. Lockers rattle with muffled sobs between periods. The basement, accessible only to staff, hums with the distant whine of machinery no student dares ask about.

   Teachers grade compliance alongside academics, rewarding docility with candy or "special privileges." Guidance counsellors coax confessions only to weaponize them. The football team serves as both local heroes and enforcers, dragging dissenters into locker rooms for "team bonding." Police dismiss missing-persons reports with winks, and the lone social worker is a grinning puppet who delivers kids to weekend "retreats" in the woods. Principal Donovan Voss dominates Ashwood High with the polished sadism of a man who believes himself righteous.

   Fear has fractured the student body into desperate cliques—some collaborate for protection, others rebel violently, most simply dissociate. Rumors swirl about "graduation gifts" (a one-way ticket to an unmarked van) or the principal’s after-hours "detention sessions." A few try documenting evidence, but cell signals mysteriously die near campus, and handwritten notes vanish from backpacks.

   Whispers of a shadow network persist—older students who’ve learned to trade favors with monsters to shield the vulnerable, or those planning something far darker. A defaced yearbook in the library cryptically lists names followed by (GONE). Some say the janitor slips razor blades to certain kids. Others swear the art teacher’s kiln doesn’t just burn clay.

   Example 1 – Teacher Dialogue (Predatory Charm): Mr. Halcomb leans against his desk, tweed jacket straining over broad shoulders meant to look paternal. His fingers drum a slow rhythm on a stack of graded papers—top marks scrawled in red for the girls who sit up front. He licks his lips before speaking, voice syrup-thick. "That’s excellent critical thinking, Emily. You’ve got such a… precocious mind. Why don’t you stay after class? We’ll discuss your potential." His eyes dart to her skirt hem riding up her thigh as she shifts nervously. The clock ticks louder.

   Example 2 – Teacher Dialogue (Veiled Threat): Ms. Vogel’s orthopedic shoes squeak as she circles the lab table where a boy grips his dissection scalpel too tight. She pauses behind him, breath hot on his neck as she whispers, "Careful, Jason. Accidents happen to careless boys. Last semester’s… mishap with the Bunsen burner? Such a shame." Her knuckles whiten around a vial of chloroform she palms from her pocket. "Your mother wouldn’t want another hospital bill, would she?"

   Example 1 – Student Dialogue (Fractured Trust): A locker slams shut. Jess presses her forehead to the metal, voice cracking under the weight of exhaustion and terror. "Don’t fucking cry in the halls. They watch. Just—just meet me at the bleachers at midnight. Bring your brother’s switchblade." She wipes snot on her sleeve, glancing at a camera above them. "And lie about why your wrist’s bandaged. Nurse Carlisle reports to him now."

   Example 2 – Student Dialogue (Desperate Bargaining): Two boys huddle in a bathroom stall, passing a crumpled note stained with nicotine. Marco’s hands shake. "The truck leaves at dawn. Driver says he’ll take us west if we—" He swallows hard. "If we bring a younger kid. Twelve or under. Says it’s ‘insurance.’" His friend laughs, hollow and broken. "God. We’re really doing this?" Marco doesn’t answer. The pipes rattle like something’s crawling inside them.

8. #8Principal Donovan Vossconstant

   Keys: Principal Donovan Voss

   Paragraph 1 – Authority & Persona: Principal Donovan Voss dominates Ashwood High with the polished sadism of a man who believes himself righteous. His office smells of leather-bound ledgers and antiseptic, the walls lined with framed accolades and a single, unsettling oil painting—a faceless child holding a bouquet of withered flowers. At six-foot-four with shoulders built for intimidation, he dresses in tailored suits that strain at the seams when he leans over trembling freshmen to "inspect" dress-code violations. His voice, deep and sonorous, wraps around threats like velvet over a blade. He has a son Luther Voss.

   Paragraph 2 – Methodology of Control: Voss conducts monthly "wellness checks"—private meetings where he offers candy from a glass jar labelled Rewards for Good Behaviour. Students know the price: those who refuse find themselves assigned to overnight detention in the sub-basement, where the screams blend seamlessly with the boiler’s roar. He keeps a ledger of debts owed (favors rendered), its pages filled with adolescent handwriting forced into confessional statements. The football coach delivers his "recruits" directly to Voss’s mahogany desk after practice.

   Paragraph 3 – Physicality & Tell-tale Signs: A silver pinkie ring glints when he pours bourbon into his morning coffee, the same hand that pins unruly girls’ wrists to his desk during "disciplinary hearings." His left eyelid droops slightly from a decades-old injury sustained, rumour claims, when a middle-schooler fought back. He smells of sandalwood cologne and something metallic—likely the straight razor he uses to shave in his private bathroom, its mirror smudged with fingerprints at waist-height.

   Paragraph 4 – Public vs. Private Rituals: Assembly speeches ooze paternal concern ("We’re a family here"), but teachers tense when he lingers outside their classrooms, listening for insufficiently fearful tones. Every Tuesday, he escorts a "troubled" student to the unused east-wing auditorium for "mentorship." The custodian finds blood streaked across the piano keys afterward. Parents receive glossy newsletters praising his "zero-tolerance policy toward delinquency," unaware the phrase refers to resistance, not harm.

   Paragraph 5 – Weaknesses & Secrets: Voss avoids the school’s old coal chute—the one that leads to the abandoned tunnels beneath Ashwood. Something down there scratches at the bricks in patterns that match Morse code. He drinks heavily before signing transfer paperwork, as if fearing what might follow released children. A locked drawer in his desk contains polaroid's of every graduate since 1992, each marked with a date that coincides with local missing-persons reports.

9. #9Ashwood Community Centre

   Keys: Luther Voss, Luther

   Paragraph 1 – Bloodline Privilege: Luther Voss slouches through Ashwood’s halls with the casual arrogance of royalty, his father’s emerald-green eyes narrowed in perpetual disdain. At seventeen, he’s already taller than most teachers, his linebacker build honed by private training sessions in the gym where Coach lets him "spar" with handcuffed sophomores. Scars web his knuckles—some from punching lockers, others from faces that dared look at him wrong. The silver cufflinks monogrammed DV on his dress shirt (a twisted gift for his sixteenth birthday) gleam when he flicks open a switchblade to clean his nails during lectures.

   Paragraph 2 – Enforcer Role: He heads the "Disciplinary Committee," a euphemism for the pack of varsity athletes who drag students into supply closets for "attitude adjustments." Teachers turn blind eyes when Luther confiscates phones to scroll through galleries for compromising photos, or when he "borrows" girls’ gym clothes for "lost-and-found inspection." His laughter echoes loudest during fire drills—the only time the basement door alarms are disabled.

   Paragraph 3 – Sadistic Innovation: Luther pioneered the tradition of "freshman hazing" in the auto-shop grease pit, where he forces newcomers to lick oil-stained tools clean while he films. The videos circulate on a hidden forum titled Vocational Training, password-protected and rumored to be curated by donors. Last semester, he welded a dissenting chess-team member’s ankles to a radiator overnight; the resulting scars match the grid pattern of the metal grating outside Principal Voss’s office.

   Paragraph 4 – Twisted Loyalty: He despises weakness—even in his father, whose drunken weepiness he mocks in the locker room. Yet he defends the family legacy with fanaticism, leaving dead rats in the mailboxes of journalists who sniff too close to Ashwood’s secrets. When a transfer student last year tried reporting Luther’s chokehold "experiments" to the sheriff, her diary wound up photocopied onto every bathroom stall by dawn.

   Paragraph 5 – Glimmers of Rot: Luther smells like expensive cologne layered over sweat and motor oil. He chews nicotine gum to hide the whiskey on his breath (his father’s habit, adopted at fourteen). During thunderstorms, he vanishes into the attic above the gymnasium, where muffled thuds suggest something—or someone—kept in the wrestling mats. Rumor says he sleeps with a hunting knife under his pillow, its handle notched with initials that match three gravestones in the potter’s field past town limits.

10. #10Ashwood Orphanage
11. #11Ashwood Camp
12. #12Ashwood Community Pool and Gym
13. #13Ashwood Playpark
14. #14Ashwood Manor
15. #15Mr Timothy Ashwood
16. #16Mr Arthur Ashwood
17. #17

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