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Controlled by - The Autumn Court (Supposedly Neutral Ground)
Other Players - None

Boston's more conservative natives angrily question the necessity or sanity in an elderly black man setting up a voodoo themed strip joint and jazz club, but amazingly "Skellington's" has thrived. For one thing, the eccentric destination, owned and operated by a Darkling Gravewight named Skellington Walker, has become a popular college hangout. For another, it's a hub and a safe haven for Changelings of all stripes and courts. "Officially" the club lets out around closing time like all venues in Boston, but Changelings can find safe haven and entertainment virtually 24/7.

Unlike most strip clubs, Skellington's features both male and female strippers. Walker prides his club on catering to all tastes and orientations... and then some. Most of the more prominent employees, including almost all the strippers, are Changelings themselves - those who glimpse beneath their masks find "Skellington's" eccentric facade taken to utterly surreal proportions.

Officially, Walker maintains his club as neutral ground for the Changelings of Boston, regardless of Court or politics. Of course, no one is truly neutral in Samhain Town. In the backrooms and VIP lounges, off limits even to most Changeling patrons, high-ranking Autumn Court officials and enforcers coordinate their sinister enterprise. The Autumn King, Jack Carroll himself, has been sighted at the club on more than one occasion. Some of Samhain Town's more paranoid residents believe Walker owns the club in name only, while it's Carroll who truly calls the shots.

The strippers get almost all of the attention, but Walker's band, The Bone Daddy 7, are the true signature entertainment of "Skellington's." True to their name, every member is a Darkling who shares Walker's somewhat skeletal mien, or at least appears to be in some state of decay. Although a Jazz band in principle, they've been known to play everything from Zydeco to R&B to Voltaire to Rob Zombie. Walker plays saxophone and trumpet, typically decked out in a purple, coat-tailed tuxedo and matching top hat. It's a tribute to the voodoo Loa Baron Samedi, whom Walker claims was his Keeper. Walker can also frequently be found tending bar, gregariously chatting up the customers, or just lasciviously taking in one of his girls' routines.

Resident NPCs - Danny "Skellington" Walker (Owner, Band Leader, Part-Time Bartender), Spookshow Baby (stripper), Nurse Joyce (Stripper), Alice Brady (Stripper), Sebastian Harrow (Male Stripper), Taylor Vasquez (Male Stripper), Jonathen Henry (Bouncer), Heero Inari (Bartender) & other staff.

Bree lets out an unhappy-sounding "eep!" and mentally pages through her available spell load.

She's largely moved beyond some of the more unpleasant aspects of her personal history, to the point where the dancers on-stage don't really bother her and neither does the rampant near-sex happening just about everywhere. This, however, does not mean that she's all that comfortable getting a crash course in this world's idea of sexuality.

Which explains the bug-eyes.

"Tabby's Golden Codpiece...." gonk

Bree stares up with eyes the size of dinner plates and nervously shreds the end of her braid between her fingers, muttering another of her unique blasphemations.

"Damien's Crimson Foreskin........."

"Not exactly." gonk

A hormonally-overcharged patron makes a grab for her a**. Breaking his hand seems to bring her back to her bitchy self.

"At least, not with, you know, furry people and large...er...metal people. Why exactly did you bring me here?"

Bree lets out an exasperated sigh.

"Okay okay.....I'll leave the Uruks out of the story. Pain in the a**. And for the last bloody time, I'm not crazy!" She pauses for a moment, staring at a plant in the corner.

"The potted palm says those tights make your butt look bony."

Bree is a good girl. She makes it alllll the way past the action and into the elevator before she explodes.

"Tara's HEAVING voluptuous bosom!" gonk

Bree's eyes widen and she immediately takes a knee, poking Stitch in the ribs and hissing, "You didn't tell me Damien was here too!"

Bree gulps and veeeeery carefully contains herself.

"Yes, sir. Although in my defense, you'd think the sight of someone talking to a tree would be less shocking in a town where more than 75% of the population drinks themselves into a stupor every weekend."