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Till Eulenspiegel

The Pied Piper of Hamelin

0 · 531 views · located in Courtyard and Gardens

a character in “The Wonderland Institute v2”, as played by CaptainGrue



Name: Till

Surname: Eulenspiegel

Alias/Nickname: The Pied Piper, Piper, the Rat King.

Place of Birth: Hamelin, Germany.

DOB: 2nd of September.

Age: 23

Family: Hans (father, alive), Nena (mother, alive), Mia (little sister, deceased).

Occupation: Previously a government employed pest remover and amateur children's entertainer.

Blood-Type: B Positive

Criminal History:
Charged with:
- the murder of his little sister, Mia, aged 6
- the murder of 127 children aged 4-16
- the attempted murder of 3 children aged 13-17
- horrendous misuse of government supplied equipment

Mental Diagnostic:
Till is first and foremost a psychopath. He shares no remorse for any people he's killed.
Second, Till shows signs of OCD, ADHD and Tourettes syndrome. He will become increasingly anxious without his pipe (and it must be his pipe), consistently fidgets, and doesn't show much interest in topics unrelated to music.
Thirdly, Till shows signs of schizophrenia in that he claims that rats "speak" to him, begging for vengeance.
Till is a compulsive liar.

Supernatural Powers: None. Though he can play the pipe with the skill of a perfectionist. He claims it is magic and claims he cannot play any other instrument, even other pipes. This is most likely a placebo, the truth being that Till is far more than capable of learning many skills with exceptional ability.
Claims he can speak to rats. No evidence of this exists.

Children. Prone to violent acts against them, some would say with murderous intent.
Gets irritated by repetitive "uninspired" music.
Upon criticism of his pipe playing, Till will refuse to communicate and obsessively practise his pipe until the critic claims they are satisfied.

Ideal Environment and Stimuli For Them: Outside in a park, in daylight. Should be provided his pipe, access to a diverse array of music/outfits. Would prefer to talk about music. Would like any people around him to be appreciative of his playing.

Personality: Till is creative, a muse, and one for exquisite tastes in music and fashion. He actually holds very little ego in anything besides his pipe playing and will gladly admit any other shortcomings. Above all he values passion and genuine intent, and will aid others in their attempts to express themselves. Justifies his lies by saying "they are all part of the show". Gets bored easily, and will either visualise concerts or play with his pipe (eheh) to alleviate any boredom or anxiety. Harbours resentment for all children, perhaps envious that he lost his childhood or infuriated by their capacity to be manipulated. Relates them to rats. Claims to love his family very much.

Born to Hans and Nena Eulenspiegel in the town of Hamelin, located in Germany. Nena helped nurture Till's love for music by providing him with a pipe she said held magical powers and if he were to play it right, would enthral any listener. Till would play to his little sister Mia and tended to keep to himself during primary school as he honed his ability. He donned a multicoloured hood and would provide performances to his classmates. There are cases of Till playing light hearted pranks on his family and classmates, always failing to bring a smile to anyone's face but his family.

When Till was 11, his family took him to the Weser (a river) on holiday as they had done for the past six years. It was commonplace for surrounding towns to dump the bodies of dead rats into the river, and Till developed a sympathy for them as they seemed to float forever. While the parents were beginning to pack and leave, Till was found holding the corpse of his sister in the river. She had drowned. As the parents approached him, they heard him mutter "float... why won't she float?" and upon asking him what had happened he responded "We were just swimming with the rats". An investigation opened up, eventually closing when they determined it was reasonable to believe it was all an accident. The families of other children he went to school with believed he murdered her, ostracising him further. Till claimed there was another boy who actually drowned her, but no such boy was found and it was thought to be a coping mechanism for the young Till. Because of his shattered mental state at the time and his relentlessness to blame someone, Till was moved into foster care away from his parents who feared for his wellbeing. The only thing he kept was his mother's pipe.

In the following years, Till failed to find a suitable foster family and lived in government housing doing work for the doll. Till's assigned job was to exterminate pests (primarily rats as they were most numerous in Hamelin) and he proved to be extremely efficient. Outside of his work, Till presented himself as an entertainer known as the "Pied Piper" due to his colourful outfits and use of the pipe. He developed a resentment for the children's parents as most knew of his past as a rumoured murderer and would not hire him. Nevertheless the children loved him, and Till would have nightmares of children floating in the Weser alongside his sister and the rats. Till kept a tally of all the rats he killed during his tenure.

At the time of the Pied Piper incident, Till was 23. Government care could no longer support him. His career as an entertainer was hardly sustainable. They continued to employ him as a pest remover but removed his housing, which put Till on the street. No one else would have him. This was the parent's fault. Trying to protect their precious children from the feared Pied Piper, trying to protect their little rats. Till received his paycheck for the fortnight. €0.00. Demanding an explanation from his case manager, they said he had been cut from all payments and was no longer receiving welfare.


Till produced posters for an all new show, putting all of his money into it. The poster said in huge letters "IT'S FREE! 130 ONLY, GRAB A TICKET BEFORE THEY RUN OUT!". He told every child he could see while he wore an all green jester's outfit. He would have 130 tickets to give away. One for every damn rat the city made him kill and dump into the river. He set up his yellow and red fumigation tent out in the park, with the truck his boss used for traversing equipment just outside. Why, it looked just like a circus.


3:00pm, on the dot. Children walked straight into the tent as the Pied Piper encouraged them in, dancing around and playing the pipe. After a short announcement to the show, they were all seated inside and the Pied Piper of Hamelin sealed the tent from the outside. Twist and the gas was released. Till laughed while outside, as the kids screamed on the inside. "An encore?" He shouted, amused, turning up the pressure of the gas tank. Soon there were no more screams. The Piper piled the bodies in the back of his track, unaware that three children had escaped the tent.

He drove to the infamous Weser where all of this started, dumping each body into the river as he made a mark on his notepad for every rat. 125, 126, 127, 127... That was when the sound of police sirens became all too clear and Till was apprehended wearing his emerald attire with pipe in hand.


Relationship to Other Inmates: Till has a natural dislike towards all children. This puts him at odds with Jack Winters who appears to be a child and Peter Banning who wishes he was. Refers to Scarlette and Salem as 'rats'. Has neutral feelings towards the others, though sees something to manipulate in James Hook.

Progress: While Till accepts that he killed 127 children from his own town, he refuses to accept a number of things. For instance, he still claims that he did not drown his sister despite evidence showing otherwise. He also claims that he is sane and that his actions were righteous, suggesting that it was everyone else who pushed him to do it. He rejects any idea that suggests he could be psychotic or mentally deficient. Needs much work.

So begins...

Till Eulenspiegel's Story

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Character Portrait: Till Eulenspiegel
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Till was walking down the Weser with his sister. Bright, bright day. Warm. He danced ahead of her, doing his best to cover Sir Duke by Stevie Wonder on his pipe. Each step was cushioned by the ground that seemed to trampoline him further into the daylight. No fears, no anxieties, only music. These times at the Weser were the kind that made everything else fade away. He didn't need cheap tricks or performances to have fun with Mia. Just a magic pipe through which to express himself.

Suddenly the next step caused Till to hit the ground with an unnatural lack of suspension. He stopped playing, and turned around to face Mia though she was nowhere to be seen. A great sense of dread began to develop as his eyes began to wander towards the river. Till jumped as a rat moved past in between his feet. Then another, and a couple more, until a horde of rats rushed past Till and into the river as they squeaked in cacophony. Submerging themselves beneath the surface of the water, the bodies of children began to float downstream. "Mia?!" he cried, rushing towards the water as he sifted through each body, pushing them aside as he searched for his sister. Face after face, none of them seemed to be her. Drenched and terrified, struggling to fight the current, he looked towards land and saw his sister holding his pipe. Instinctively he reached for his pocket and alas, it wasn't there. Confused beyond measure, Till begged for meaning. Mia responded peacefully.

"What are you trying to prove, Rat King?"

Till gasped for breath as he opened his eyes, reaching for his pipe by his side. As the bleeding white walls sunk into his vision and memory began to come into play he then realised it was not here too. Very quickly Till began to panic, catching his breath while feeling the walls for support while climbing out of bed. His vision blurred, a nauseous storm forming in his stomach and reaching its peak when Till can no longer hold himself up. He falls to the unrelenting floor, seeming to emit just as much artificial light as every other corner of the room. He tries to throw up to no avail. There was no sunshine here. No grass. No music.

There had to be someone coming, he was sure it was about time. Is it that the last five minutes had merely seemed to go on for hours? No, surely not, most definitely not. There had to be someone soon. Kneeling up against the door, Till hammered his palm against it as he begged for his instrument.

"Please! Please... I need my pipe! Give me my damn pipe! Please... I need it... I..."

Till collapses back into unconsciousness, into the world of nightmares and hope.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Alice Liddle Character Portrait: Dr. Cassius LaMontaigne Character Portrait: The Cheshire Character Portrait: Dr. Jacob Grimm Character Portrait: Peter Banning Character Portrait: Aldric Von Hardt Character Portrait: Scarlette Binme Kapuce Character Portrait: Jafar Character Portrait: Jack Winters Character Portrait: Till Eulenspiegel Character Portrait: Dr. James B. Hook Character Portrait: Vitas Warmoon Character Portrait: Don Quixote Character Portrait: Penny Sattely Character Portrait: Dr Henry Jekyll/Mr Edward Hyde Character Portrait: Diana 'Snow White' Blumenthal Character Portrait: The Genie Character Portrait: Doctor Frankenstein Character Portrait: Dr. Theodora Verde Character Portrait: Belle LeFaun
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#, as written by Rulke

It had been a chaotic and long day, not the longest, but still pretty exhausting. Once the damage had been measured by the staff it was realised Cell Security needed to be updated with The Wolves Pit practically being rebuilt after Aldric almost escape attempt. While this went on during next two weeks.

Alice received word of a Juvenile Behavior Therapist interested in the position. Being, Peter Banning was still an issue with Jack too being a problem it did seem rather like a good idea.

Unfortunately, the problems outweighed the good, Salem, one of the inmates committed suicide the week after.

Alice, though, was steadfast, despite these major complications. Many would have buckled under the intense pressure from this all, but after her last breakdown, she seemed to attempt to keep herself coordinated. Even odder was when someone mentioned Cheshire or regarding progress of that patient, a nostalgic smile traced over Alice's lip. Something weird was certainly happening, but without further investigation, there was no need to overreact.

In the past when Cheshire was mentioned, Alice's sadism seemed to emerge quite prominently and she got angry and demanded cruel and unusual punishments for Cheshire. Now though, seemed rather calm, some may say downright intrigued by the progress. Some Doctor's have noticed her giggling and commenting during the staff meeting, 'Oh yes, she is such a wicked thing." not a lie, but the way it was said, suggested something of less towards nature.

It has been two weeks since the incident, cells have rebuilt and refitted, Aldric out of his coma and it has been reasoned by Jekyll, Warmoon and even Alice that perhaps Aldric could get outdoor privileges. It is believed that this could resolve much of his cabin fever and also provide the freedom he needs while under supervision. Of course, with this, the Garden now had to be just as warded heavily with magic. But, that was not difficult to do.

Unbeknownst to everyone, the darkness down within the crypt was stirring, it felt the weakness growing within all. Oh, how the boy who cried, cried so hard for it to stop. But now his only sound was the swinging from the metaphorical Gallow's Pole. It must work slowly, and not rush, especially as many of these magic users, if they knew, could strengthen this prison, this cell so not even the maddening cruel voice could speak in their darkest thoughts. Oh yes, it would be patient and in time Wonderland would become the Kingdom of this new Earth with the twisted aberrations of subjects that made up inmates and staff.

Once it was free, only once it was free

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Character Portrait: Till Eulenspiegel
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Till Eulenspiegel was under the watch of orderlies out on a patch of grass. He was here to practise a calming technique Jekyll had given him to lessen his dependence on maintaining a connection to his pipe. Luckily it was not in Till's nature to become violent due to deprivation of his iconic instrument, but he would break down and exhibit an extreme case of dysphoria. In the psychiatrist's eyes, this seemed to the first step in combating Till's ultimately psychopathic state of mind. He closed his eyes, and thought to himself.

Breathe, Till, breathe. Close your eyes. She's here, with you. Take in the scent of the garden. Each individual aroma coming together to provide a melody that beckons freedom and grace. Stretch your arm out, Till. Graze your fingers across the pipe. The light wood, the cylindrical shape, the engraving that causes a labyrinth of touch. So specific, the most beautiful craftsmanship. As if the very pipe itself plays its own song through its design. As your fingers slide down, they will cut down into the small holes all lined up. Pressure applies to your index finger, as each dip in the pipe scratches against it. Raise it to your mouth, Till. Feel the ever-so cool touch of the thin wood against your lips, the way it seems woven together specifically for you. The energy emanating from it. The music, Till. Can you hear the music?

His eyebrows furrow, his ears twitch.

Focus, Till. Ready your hands, prepare your fingers. Stand up straight.

One of his fingers falls through the imaginary pipe.

Play, Till, play.

He blows, but no sound is heard. Wincing, his hands fall through and his whole body is thrown to the grass by a sheer strike of nausea and terror.

"It's bullshit! None of it works!" The fallen Piper breaks into tears "I need it... I need it... Where's my pipe?!"

It would be up to the staff, or possibly even another inmate to intervene at this point.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Till Eulenspiegel Character Portrait: Diana 'Snow White' Blumenthal
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TWO WEEKS. It had been two long, excruciating weeks. To Snow, it was almost hard to tell how long it had been, endless days and nights that blended seamlessly together to make her feel disconnected from reality, the rest of the world. Two weeks. Two days. Two months. She hadn’t heard from her father in those two weeks, an event that often helped her keep track of the days. It was unusual for him to not come by, as he always made time to visit her weekly. It inspired a paranoid dread in her, fearing for him, fearing the worst. What if her step-mother had killed him? The deranged woman would, she’d do it to get revenge on Snow. Seeing how she avoided the food given to her as often as she could, Diana’s step-mother could be getting desperate. What if father was dead? She couldn’t call anyone, couldn’t ask. The staff wouldn’t have told her anyway. The consequence of knowing that information would be catastrophic. There was no way to be sure, not unless she saw him with her own eyes. She would have to wait, spend her days full of agonized anticipation for her father’s visit, burn inside with hunger as she forced herself to eat only the bare minimum to even stay alive. It was like slow death. She looked like it, worried lines in her face, dark circles under her eyes like bruised marble, wide brown eyes like a doe’s, startled nearly by everything around her. It was hell.

It made her feel a little bit better to be allowed time outside. When she was a girl, spending time outdoors was a great relief to her. She could hide away from the reach of her step-mother, climb up the tallest trees, hear the birds singing, the sun warming her face like a warm kiss. It was a forgotten bliss to be outside. The gardens of the Institute were a strange comfort, while she still felt confined within the hospital’s walls she could for a time pretend things were not as they truly were. She could revive memories of her childhood where she felt safe and joyful, let those feelings come to life inside her and find a moment as close to peacefulness as she could get. While she was not dangerous, not as severe a threat as the others who lurked within Wonderland, she still was observed by staff as she strolled about in an almost trance-like silence, possessed by every flower, tree, and small creature that went by. She walked the grounds, walked them again, let the sun creep across the sky, listened with childlike, dewy eyes watching the birds that flitted from the treetops and chirped their sweet birdsong. And on her ninth circuit around the gardens she finally felt her thin legs grow sore and thought to stop and rest. It was a habit of hers to push herself to continue on strolling the grounds when she was tired, but now with a keen eye keeping watch, the harmful behavior folded to what her body actually needed. She took to a bench of warm wood and floral designs in the iron work, a bench that reminded her of nice little parks where children played and everything was pleasant and happy. Sitting there, she became aware of how tired she made herself walking for as long as she had. There was a part of her that was glad to feel something other that sorrow and panic. Soreness was an old, familiar feeling, bordering on the negative in memories of being beaten or struck. She didn’t want to think about that. Clear the mind. She closed her eyes and just listened to the nature around her, wanting to regain some semblance of what she was before. Find peace. Feel calm, a moment of respite.

If she were sinking into any sort of feeling, it did not last very long. A shout snapped her eyes back open, blinked, looked around and saw another patient not that far away from her. She had to think for a moment to place him. The weeping man was Till Eulenspiegel, a name she had seen scribbled on a clipboard weeks ago (Was it weeks? Days? Months? The uncertainty bothered her.) in passing when one of the staff had passed her door during inspections. She didn’t know very much about him, not that she could remember, but the sound of his crying disturbed her. The suffering of the other patients always did greatly upset her. At the passing of the Salem Boy, even though she hadn’t known him she had burst into a fit of sobs. To hear this man now drove a pain into her heart, unable to ignore it even as the sound wound a tension into her bones, the common anxiety returning to her. She couldn’t just sit there.

“Don’t do it, Snow!” She had been just about to get up, but the voice stopped her, almost commanded her into stillness. Confusion drew her eyebrows down, a pucker of pale pink lips, angling her head down as if listening inside herself. She couldn’t answer, not with so many people around, but she didn’t have to wait long. “It’s not safe to talk to these people. They’re crazy, princess! They’ll hurt you!” Martin. He always was discouraging when it came to her sympathies. He thought she was too naive, too trusting of other people. Perhaps he was right. She couldn’t argue with him, and none of the other little men were trying to stand up to him. They.. didn’t agree with him, did they? Were they too worried of upsetting her? “Please, just stay safe!” It was almost as if he knew she was going to ignore him. Of course she knew her tender heart was what had gotten her into this mess in the first place. Of course her caring nature was a weakness. She tried to resist giving too much to other people, especially in here, but she couldn’t just let someone suffer. She knew what it was like to be in pain and have no one try to help. She stood up, and the voice of her little grumpy man fell into total silence. The sun shone brightly on her back, illuminating her silhouette, a harsh shine on her black hair. His wild crying unnerved her, but she spoke like thin glass,

“E-excuse me… Are.. you alright?”

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Till Eulenspiegel Character Portrait: Diana 'Snow White' Blumenthal
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Till sunk further into the grass, embracing it as the land swallowed him whole. It felt like marshland, damp with the blood of three hundred rats and drenched with the odour of rotting flesh. The songs sung by each one written across his mind, Till wanted nothing more than to be drifted away by them.

Then a new song begun, one that seemed extraordinarily delicate but rife with bravery. Most importantly, one that he hadn't heard before.

Heart pumping blood at nauseating rhythms, Till laughed as he lightheartedly recited a tune akin to a drunk.

"Oh Danny Boy..." he mumbled a couple words under his breath, "The pipes, the pipes are calling, ahahaha..."

As he unfurled his face from the shell of his arms, be opened his eyes and looked directly at Snow's as he laughed away. However his eyes were red with tears and while his laugh never once broke into sobbing it was obvious that he was rampantly producing tears. Otherwise, Till's expression showed great hilarity.

"Me? Alright?" He giggled like a child. "You're the one with the bleeding heart... Heheheheh..."

Till slowly pulled himself up while maintaining his jester's gaze unto Snow until he was sitting on the grass. He dug his nails deep into the soil, ripping up clumps of dirt. She appeared in eclipse, outlined by sunlight. While he couldn't put names to faces, he could feel her thoughts through her voice. Focusing on it was all he could do to alleviate his stress. His tears decreased significantly.

"Why'd you say anything? Why does the bleeding heart still have blood to spare? I spilt all of mine. Hah."

Through his mask of smiles and tears hid a stare with a curious intensity. As he ripped up more grass, Till would tilt his head as he observed Snow's behaviour.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Till Eulenspiegel Character Portrait: Diana 'Snow White' Blumenthal
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A silence encased her, fragile and uncertain. He spoke in fits, an immense suffering marked in his face that made her want to recoil in quiet horror. His words left her unsure of his meaning. Was he mocking her? Trying to frighten her? She stood there without immediately replying, assessing what she could even say to him. See! the voice came back, quiet, quiet like an insistent breeze in the night. “Look at him! He’s nuts! He’s going to hurt you!” She notably took in a sharp breath, dispelling the voice to the air and therefore returning her mind to silence. Watched him, quizzical and reserved, hands held towards her body as if shielding herself, maintaining space. He seemed to return her curious stare tenfold, piercingly as if looking through her. Her glance fluttered away, the ground where clumps of dirt and grass were torn from the earth, the sky that stretched infinitely overhead. She found her voice again,

“I suppose I do. Not much, though…” She spoke as if trying to figure herself out, avoiding his gaze as if he might have been accusing her of something. Still, she muttered, “You were shouting… about something. Something about a pipe… Do you play?”

When she did finally meet his eye again it was a muted anticipation, readying for a joy in finding common ground, one that she felt so strongly attached to. Music, singing, for years had been a kind of escape for her. It lulled her into a sense of fulfillment, of losing oneself to sound that came from the effort within. Maybe asking him about something such as that would calm him. She wasn’t sure if it would work, but she would feel accomplished in doing so. Maybe she would gain a friend in this hellish place that was threatening to destroy her simply by being detained there. Maybe he could help her resist any of the staff that were working with her step-mother to kill her. An ally in a place like this would give her a great relief.

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Character Portrait: Till Eulenspiegel Character Portrait: Diana 'Snow White' Blumenthal
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The pipe? Did she talk about the pipe? Oh, thank God.

The girl on a whole didn't intrigue Till all too much. He was mostly ambivalent towards her, but the chance for conversation must be savoured. And there was something in her voice that caught him with a chorus of layers waiting to be peeled back and examined. Like a progressive rock ballad, or one of Beethoven's. Perhaps a more observant fellow would pick up on the changes in breath or subtleties in the eyes.

He dug his fingers once more, jagged into the grass.

"Oh, the pipe..." His hands relieved themselves from the soil. "Yes, I play." As if on cue, Till shot up onto his feet and danced around Snow. Light and whimsical like a harlequin. "And oh boy, you should hear it! Centre stage: The Pied Piper! Bringin' showmanship and musical perfection to a neighbourhood near you!" Like a wind up toy coming to a stop, Till slowed in front of Snow. A hopelessness invaded his eyes as his hands started fidgeting once more. "As if, right? Heheh... You play the pipe too or somethin'?"

But why had she mentioned the pipe? What if it was a trick, like one of Till's? What if she knew where it was? Was she keeping it from him? What if she brok-
No, surely not. Her sound was genuine. Not one of those corporate shills pumping out manipulative tunes to drown the masses, this one held true struggle.

Till recalled the Salem boy, and what happened to him. Honestly, he hadn't cared for him all too much. Norhing new there. But it didn't sit right with him. The Salem boy hardly had a chance to show his potential, even for a rat. And Till knew that should he have been a couple years older, they would have made great friends. That night, Till did not cry or tremble in terror in the absence of his instrument. He instead pondered how great the boy's song could have been, and whistled amongst the howling wolves.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Till Eulenspiegel Character Portrait: Diana 'Snow White' Blumenthal
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The suddenness of his movements startled her, a flinch she could not disguise as anything else. Rigid, she was unmoving in his spontaneous, energetic leaps about her, even as she became aware that this was no threat to her but an outburst of happiness. Even then, she found it hard to relax. Abrupt actions such as those were too deeply rooted into a place of fear, the anticipation of pain. She tried to listen past that disabling fright, forced herself to give the smallest of smiles as he chirped giddily about that which she had partially suspected. A musician. The Pied Piper. It was curious, the life that such memories revived in him, something she took notice of, as well as how such light drained away like a quickly receding sunset as reality returned. His question met her ears in the same manner in which the roaring of the ocean rumbles from far away. A shiver up the arms, a tingling numbness as a sense of a chill over took her, something she couldn't tell if it were an internal or external change. She realized she wasn't breathing deeply enough and drew a silent, long breath as if about to plunge into that pale sea.

“A pipe? No… No, I.. only ever sang.” Words like glistening, silver wires; thin, a trick of light in and out of being. “A singer, that is. I loved to sing.. And I still do, sometimes. Helps me…” Hesitation, her voice fell into a momentary hush as she tried to decide just how much about herself she dared to expose. Should she tell this man about the comforting voices that lulled her into security? The lurking presence of her step-mother who at any moment could destroy her, working among the staff in secret? No. She didn’t want to make herself feel unnecessarily vulnerable. Not yet, not when she didn’t have to. She still had no idea whether Till was an actual threat to her or not, even if she desperately wanted a companion in this hellish institute. It would be nice to have someone to trust, but she was not a fool. Besides, who even knew if he would believe her? Her little men did not come to advise her, did not comfort her worried indecision. A small betrayal wedged itself among the pain of a rapidly pounding heart. But she went on, a little firmer of tone, “It helps me relax. It can be a difficult thing to do in this.. place.”