The air was different here. This wasn't normal, the autumn dimension's air always had a distinctly crisp feel to it. The last thing Gourdsworth could remember was enjoying some apple cider at the harvest festival. Where was he? How much time had passed since then?

Up ahead, a group of scarecrows were making their way into a tavern. At last, the comfort of familiarity! But as he moved closer, the relief began to fade. These creatures did not seem to be scarecrows. Their posture was much too consistent, their straw didn't slosh around their bodies, and some of them donned very exotic colors, ones which Gourdsworth had never seen. However, he could think of no other creature from his land that they could be.

Gourdsworth shook his head. He couldn't have fear. He was Gourdsworth! Conquerer of The Great Patch! Wielder of The Hallowed Scythe!

He approached the tavern, and addressed the strange crowd. "Beings! I am The Pumpkin Lord! I demand safe re-entry to my land!"