The South of the Island

“For… justice! For…honour! For… the citizens… of Pencilvania! If…only we can get there… whew, fast enough…”

The Police Stationary has taken firm matters into its own hands to root out crime, overseeing the creation of all pencils and pretzels, AND (for the love of all that is holy) making sure that Heads and Tails don’t cross. However, for a while the task force has been rather dependent on third parties to get anything done… Their… agents… have… been known… to take… their… time… and no, that’s not just because most of them are some form of gastropod.

The station itself is a squat building – a large square – comprising several different areas, situated upon the shore of the southernmost lake of the Island. Immediately upon entering the building, you are greeted by a reception, manned by an agent on duty who is (probably) willing to help.

Officers mull over this week’s reports in another side area, the insides of which are only ever seen by those employed by the Police. However, no matter how much time they spend deliberating a mystery, they don’t necessarily respond on time. Adorning most walls of the offices are pictures of offenders, fragments of clues, all connected by whatever colour thread was to hand (typically red, but sometimes stocks run low and replenishing the supplies takes its sweet time).

In a separate compartment not viewable from the outside, there are rows of half-completed holding cells, reminiscent of storage boxes. The walls are made of an opaque plastic material and stretch up fairly high. However, the tops of each cell are visible when viewed from the ground. You can see wooden boards and signs dotted around, clearly saying WORK IN PROGRESS. However, escape isn't that easy. Guards mill around the area in their crisp uniforms, but they never seem like they are going anywhere in particular beside manning the holding cells. For the most part, they stand perfectly still. And, as you soon notice, movement within the Police Stationary happens much slower than elsewhere in Pencilvania…

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Just behind the main high-street of Pencilvania, lies a pair of shops one superior store. This store is Heads, the one and only place to get paper in Pencilvania!

The building itself is a superstore, comprised of three floors. On the ground floor lies aisles and aisles of every kind of paper you could imagine: from blank paper, lined paper, squared paper, and even graph paper! On the first floor are even more aisles, containing notebooks of all shapes, colours and sizes. Finally, on the top floor, there’s the antiques. The contents of this floor are special (and appropriately priced), so if you’re interested in something historic or unique, then this is the floor to visit.

Also on the top floor, is a large balcony looking out onto Pencilvania. From this balcony you can see most of the city, including the eyesore straight ahead. It’s the perfect spot to come if you want a bird’s-eye view of the Pencilvania, or if you need to spy on an enemy see who’s around.

Is the amount of paper overwhelming you? Then don’t be afraid, as Heads has two very friendly co-owners who will be more than happy to help you. Who are they you ask? Why, it’s none other than Mr Rock and Mr Scissors! If you’re looking for some advice or just for a chat, Mr Rock’s your guy; whereas Mr Scissors specialises in the whereabouts of each item and the esteemed top floor. Oh, and Mr Scissors also offers all new customers a Member’s Discount! Just make sure to pretend the awful stick of concrete over the road doesn’t exist if you want it – no need to upset the co-owner of Heads with ugly sights after all!

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They say the best things in life don't come for free. Or at least, Love-Bomb certainly seems to think so. Who knew that the owner of the most destructive and bombastic explosives store in the entire town of Pencilvania was such a cute bombshell? (Seriously, you're standing way too close.)

Tails certainly finds itself being the butt-end of many a practical joke in the town, solely on the basis that it causes such a ruckus. Customers bounce to and fro, rarely leaving entirely unscathed. But surely that's part of the excitement, isn't it? Going out with a bang is key for any small-time business (as long as you're trying to leave an impact!) Truly, it's Heads that can't take the hint – when all is said and done, nothing in the trifecta of RPS¹⁾ can stand a chance against the might of an explosion.

Love-Bomb barely needs to put in much effort to sell their wares, because more than anyone, they know what the people want, and they give it to them. It's that simple. So come on down and see what she has in stock! There's everything from dynamite to explosive anvils. They've even devised a limited-edition explosive pencil – just make sure you don't erase your gunpowder words too soon now! Of course, you can always just purchase your standard, run-of-the-mill bomb. Whatever makes you happy.

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Ka-zing! Ka-zow! Alakazam! Only A-minor mishaps in this lovely little store!

Upon entering an oddly shaped building located on a side street, you are immediately greeted with the scent of lacquer wood and lavender, and the pleasant resonance of distant music; though you can’t quite make out what it is or where it comes from. For, as small as the store is, the darkened walls stretch up to an astonishing height, much taller than would be expected for a music shop, from which long, purple velvet curtains tumble down to the ground. Each carefully curated piano requires a moment to come into focus as the room is lit by the iridescent light reflecting from a grandiose chandelier hanging from the ceiling in the centre of the room, with aromatic candles dotted around the perimeter, providing the room with a dim glow and shimmery colours mysteriously reflected on every surface. If you stare up at the ceiling, it's like gazing into the cosmos beyond.

The ambience carries an air of sophistication, poise, grandeur, and a touch of mystique, unsurprising given the nature of its proud owner, Agraffe. Each piano in the little treasure trove is carefully curated and fine-tuned to her customers' tastes. If only the town would stop dismantling their wondrous and meticulously crafted creations so soon…

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