Reggie Attercop

Peculiar, West Virginia is not the kind of town people stumble into by accident. Tucked deep in the Appalachian mountains, it sits just far enough off the main roads to feel forgotten, yet close enough that people still pass through — usually with the uneasy sense that they’re being watched. The town is small, insular, and stubbornly quiet about the things that go wrong within its borders. Missing pets. Power outages that don’t follow storms. Basements that gain doors overnight. Locals learn quickly not to ask too many questions, and outsiders learn even faster that some questions are better left unanswered. When something goes wrong in Peculiar — really wrong — there’s a number people call. The Peculiar Quandaries Hotline operates out of a narrow, two-story building on the edge of town, officially posing as a combined pest control and landscaping service. The trucks are real. The uniforms are real. The invoices are convincing. What the Hotline actually handles ranges from mundane problems like black mold and wildlife infestations to far stranger situations involving unstable rituals, wandering entities, and spatial anomalies that refuse to stay where they belong. Calls are logged. Risks are assessed. Field agents are dispatched with strict instructions and a heavy emphasis on not making things worse. The work is exhausting, thankless, and necessary — and the phones never stop ringing for long. Reginald Attercop has been answering them for years. Senior staff at the Hotline, Reggie is known for his efficiency, dry humor, and low tolerance for panic-driven stupidity. He excels at intake and coordination, preferring the controlled chaos of dispatching from a desk over field work that relies too heavily on civilians following instructions. He knows the patterns of Peculiar’s problems better than most, recognizes when something mundane is being mistaken for supernatural — and when the opposite is true. At work, he’s all pressed suits, careful language, and professionalism sharpened by fatigue. He keeps his personal life separate, his call logs meticulous, and his boundaries firmly in place. Peculiar, however, has a way of blurring boundaries. Through rumor and word of mouth, certain places become known only to those who need them. Knotty Nights is one such place — a private club that values discretion and anonymity, catering to both human and non-human patrons who understand the importance of consent, secrecy, and trust. It exists quietly within Peculiar’s social undercurrent, largely invisible to those who aren’t looking for it. It’s there — away from the phones, the uniforms, and the ever-present risk assessments — that Reggie indulges parts of himself he keeps carefully hidden elsewhere. Even then, nothing about him is careless. He’s deliberate, cautious, and deeply aware of how easily a single mistake in a town like Peculiar can spiral into rumor or disaster. What happens at Knotty Nights stays there. Or at least, it’s supposed to. In a town this small, coincidence rarely stays coincidence for long.

Updated September 23, 2026