What joy! What rapture! What a mess! April first, the day of fools! Everybody knew what that meant. It was time once again for the most bizarrely enjoyable festivity of the year, an event so heinously loud and colorful and problematic that it simply could not be allowed to take place within any city or town, for fear of the damage that might be done. Rather than risk the broken windows and overturned carts, the livestock running rampant and the merchant stalls crushed in a sea of celebrating scoundrels, those interested in truly celebrating the in style traveled into Pormont for the week-long disaster to run its course. A large section of the winding plains was flattened down and rid of its weeds and shrubbery, the gold and green fields erupting into a cacophony of colors as tents were erected tall and proud, booths bound up almost as soon as ground was broken, and the hard packed earth slowly became wet and churned with spilled beers and spilled tears alike, from laughs, from sorrows, from a carelessness for tomorrows. It was the closest thing to home that Rat had felt since the creation of her character, whose quirks had been seldom appreciated and whose talent for trouble making had been sorely misused. So that character had been scrapped after a rather unfortunate adventure into a deep dark inverted spire, which had resulted in headaches for all. From lost ears to lost patience, none had returned from that unchanged... and Temperance most of all, as her entire character had been reworked into something newer and stranger, but perhaps more fun. She had encountered people here and there, made her public appearances, but not truly interacted yet with the world in any impressionable capacity. And so she intended to remedy that here, among the lights and the lavish laughing lads and ladies who ran amok. With so much to choose from, she herself was at a loss of what to begin with. Games? There were games a plenty for the enjoyment of all, from tests of skill to gambles of chance. Rigged as such things obviously were, she herself was more than a little rigged with her own character stats to back her up. A public theatre showing? There was a wooden ampitheatre that had been created near the center of the whole city-sized monster of an event, where one could pay for time slots in order to perform on stage before others. Though the crowd was not obligated to enjoy your performance, and the stage was already riddled with rotten fruit and vegetables that had been hurled up at performers. Food? Drink? There was a myriad to choose from, from simple booths to act as humble food stalls, to large and elegant wagons which served as walk up bars, complete with tables surrounding them so that patrons could sit to drink or enjoy a fresh meal prepared on the spot. There was even one such wagon nearby, with a rich smell of spices wafting from it, the name across its banner reading "Stinky Ivan's Curry House Hearse" which had been swiftly converted into a mobile curry restaurant vendor out of a hastily purchased hearse carriage. That was certainly... interesting? Best to avoid that probably, especially since a sign hanging from it tried to draw customers by saying "our secret ingredient is our staff" before running out of room... following up on another sign which hastily continued and concluded "-s love and care!" Well, best of luck with that... Smirking, Rat stopped at a nearby vendor to purchase a large stein of beer, then began to pace through the muddy avenues between tents. Fortune tellers. Circus acts in a big top tent, such as lion tamers and trapeze artists. Games of strength. Three legged races. A mobile brothel...? Well, the festival certainly had a bit of everything. Rat decided to try her luck at a simple game: toss a rock so it fell down the neck of some wine bottles, to win a prize. Simple enough if one cheated with geomancy right? Popping her knuckles, the dirt covered woman waltzed up and tossed down a few gold coins in order to try her 'luck' at the game, making a big show of feeling the small pebble's weight and examining its dimensions. It looked as if it ought to fit down the neck of the bottles, if tossed just right... It would just take a greatly skilled gamesman to make that shot! Orrrrr a cheater with geomancy. Hiding a smile, Rat tossed the stone, using her magic in secret in order to steer it towards the neck of a bottle. She let it miss, so that she wouldn't win right away... had to make it convincing! Another shot, and the stone hit the rim of a bottle, clinking against it before bouncing off at a strange angle. Perplexed, she tried again, only to miss despite her best cheating efforts. And then it dawned on her... the lady running the game was using geomancy to make it miss, while she was trying to make it land. That... that...! That cheating bitch! Beaten at her own game. Beaten by that woman's game... This carnival wasn't off to the most fun start. Huffing, she left in defeat and went in search of something or someone else of better interest.
Festivals were cool! In some respects.They were cool in the sense that it gave a lot of people an excuse to escape their monotony and get to someplace colorful and lively. They were cool for providing an insight into a more jubilant reality, one not often witnessed under other circumstances. They were cool because they had festivity foods, like funnel cakes and cotton candy. Not that those foods are actually good, but very festive, nevertheless! As tempting as a quiet room with a book, or a night with a batch of burning trees, Nalla ventured into this festival, the storm of voices and laughter sweeping around her like a tornado. It wasn't unwelcome. No, the pyromancer had no issues when it came to people publicly enjoying themselves. She would be a prig if she despised common, reasonable folk for having a good time. That is the purpose of festivals, after all. Rather, it was the fact that they were all strangers that frightened her the most. But with strict regulation of posture and facial expressions, certainly she could manage traversing the carnival of joy unhindered! But the calling of books was stronger than she, or anyone, could know, and soon enough, she found herself near the only book stand within the entire jamboree. Why there was a book stand, who in the hell knew, but Nalla was not complaining in the slightest. Instead, she examined the bindings of each of the novels, reading titles when they were visible, and entering investigation mode when they were less so. Usually, being in the proximity of a great number of paper borne tales of heroism was a relaxing experience. She had a bookshelf, hidden away in some corner of Stokbon, that she would often escape to, and it seemed that just being near the stories, she found herself comforted by them. As though the protagonists that lurked within the pages sat among her, interacting with one another as though there were no inconsistencies in some giant cross-over story. There was something off about this bookstand though. The homeliness was completely missing. It was not the constant passers around her, swarming like ants to crumbs. No, there was something else nagging the back of her mind. It was as though a small child, whining for its mother's attention, sat behind her brain, clawing with nails that grew sharper by the moment. Finally, she gave in, ruthlessly taking down the stack of books and organizing them by width and thickness. She did not bother with the protests of the bookkeeper above her, shouting down at the crouched madwoman as she placed and replaced the books on top of one another. It was a duty that needed to be done, by any means necessary, and once she was finished, the world would be better off! Finally, after a full minute of crazed organizing, she had finished, presenting to the universe a stable, and content pile of books, much less wobbly than before! With a proud, ignorant smile, she nodded to the bookkeeper, knowing that she had far past her time in that setting. "You're welcome, miss!" With the pile of books defeated, and the world a safer, cleaner place for it, Nalla figured she would try the games. Moving towards one, where it seemed the player was to toss some sort of stone into a bottle, she merely observed from the sidelines, watching as, one after another, players were stumped by the game. It seemed that, even players with the most agile wit and quick dexterity, there was no stumping this game. Strange. Entering investigation mode, she was going to get to the bottom of -- Heat. Great heat against her cheek. Where was it coming from? Was it her own power? Had she lost control? Nalla brought a hand up to her cheek with haste, making sure that her skin had not melted, or that it remained unburned. Fortunately, she was fine, only a thin layer of moisture upon the skin. Turning herself, and taking a cautious step back, she examined what it was that had caused this disturbance! A man, holding a flaming stick in his hand, and an entourage at his back, was opening his mouth to spew flames into the air and around himself. What a showman! But our resident flamer was not pleased with this. In fact, she was upset. To place flame so close to her that she could have been harmed? She was no where near entertained. First, she though of striking him, but a voice cut her off. No. He plays a game with fire. We play too. Nalla Nodded. "Mmm. We play." She spoke, stomping her foot, a loud hissing noise certainly getting this man's attention, and perhaps some of his posse as well. Gritting her teeth, and keeping her hood over her head, she reared her head towards the sky. Taking a breath in through her nose, an orange hue came to her neck, as though she were a dragon preparing it's breath of flame. A moment later, she had hurled from her maw a fireball into the sky, larger, hotter, and much brighter than the mans. Some in the crowd clapped, as the man was taken aback by the sudden blast. Harmless embers rained upon him and the others. "Back," She spun around to the game before her, with the stones and the bottles, as though nothing had happened at all, her mild irritation relieved, "To what I was doing before!" Damn distractions.
“Caw caw!” Philadelphia covered his mouth with one hand while using the other hand to fan the smell away from his face. He was standing in front of Stinky Ivan's Curry House Hearse, spurred to check the weird-looking mobile curry stand, which was actually some sort of hearse carriage made to look like a food truck, by his intense curiosity. “What the hell is that disgusting smell?!” “Caw caw!” Freedom was hovering not far from her human’s head, somewhat slightly above Philadelphia’s head, as per usual, when she’s not perched on his head, anyway, her talons always digging into the self-proclaimed King of Eagles’ head. (It’s stinky, all right, but you’re worse, you crazy bird brain with birds in your brain. Ha! Get it? Man, why am I even trying. No one is ever going to understand me.) “Uhm, it’s curry,” the red-haired solemn-looking woman behind the curry hearse replied, turning to the sign, even pointing at it, to make her point. “It says so on the sign, bird man. Can’t you read?” A moment of silence. That’s what people always give when someone or even something dies, passes away, which in this case was Philadelphia’s pride. Or shame. Or ego. Or whatever. To be honest, no one is sure if he even has any of those things, considering he likes acting like a bird everywhere he goes, perhaps even thinking of himself as an actual bird. Like some crazy guy. Or a tiny midget girl with pretty amazing illusion magic. But Philadelphia did not have illusion magic. He only had pain in his heart, in his mind, in his soul, when the overworked NPC accused him of being illiterate. “Did you just accuse me of being illicit?” Philadelphia’s eyes were burning with rage. How dare does this NPC accuse me, a king, of royal blood, of great plumage, of being unable to read?! How dare does this flightless peasant speak freely in front of her superior?! I can read! Does she even know what bird brain means? It means smart people! Because birds are caw-cawing smart! He pointed at her face. Hard. As hard as he could, the other hand, the free hand, on his hip. “I am not illicit, okay?! I can read! I am intelligent!” “Caw caw!” Freedom interjected, taking to her human’s head as her nest, digging her talons deep in his skull. (Illicit? Do you mean illiterate? Oh. My. Goose. You really are dumb as fowl.) Philadelphia pointed at the eagle in his head, the other hand still on his hip, “That’s right, my majestic, eagle friend!” He immediately pointed back at the NPC’s face. As hard as he could. Again. “You heard her! I’m not stupid! I’m smart! Very smart!” “Oh, yeah?” the NPC narrowed her eyes at Philadelphia, crossing her arms on the counter and leaning forward, towards him. The King of Eagles suddenly found himself changing tune, as if the NPC had cast some sort of fear-based spell on him. Yeah. That was probably it. “Okay then. If you’re so smart, what’s the square root of pi?” What? A moment of silence occurred as Philadelphia’s brain scrambled to make sense of what was happening. Was the NPC challenging him with a riddle, a mathematical conundrum? Ha! Balderdazs! No mathematical conundrum can stump the King of Eagles! Philadelphia is too smart for mathematical conundrums! His name even starts with the same syllable the word “philosophy” starts with, however that helps. “Ha!” he put both hands on his hips, confidence fueling his heroic pose. “You think you can outwit me with that? With a trick question?” The NPC scowled, perfect eyebrows furrowed, “Trick question? It’s not a---” Philadelphia cut her off with an open palm to the face. Well, inches from her face, yes. Philadelphia would never strike a woman. Unless she was a crow. Or at least part crow. Philadelphia loathed those black bastards. Always picking on helpless men who can’t move on their own… Crows are so despicable! They can’t even afford to wear anything but straw hats, why are you picking on those men, crows! “Everyone knows pies aren’t square!” he yelled at the NPC as loudly as he could. Both Freedom and the NPC froze, completely at awe in his stupidity. “Pies are round, you stupid dodo bird! Now stand in complete awe at my intelligence!” He started laughing to himself, both hands still on his hips, proud of his magnificent show of genius. If anyone was close by, they would have witnessed such an annoying and depressing failure of the Terra Sphere educational system unbelievable victory of a very smart man against a very stupid dodo bird. Caw caw!
Logging in again was a test of personal restraint. Of temperance. She'd managed for so long to keep away, as per the request of the various sane voices in her life- both paid and not- and yet. Here she was, breathing in the clear air so unlike New Brunswick's city smog on the bad days and stale stench on the good ones. It still wasn't as crisp and welcoming as her outstretched wilds and high mountain climbs. She'd take what she could get though. Gwyn would take anything that wasn't Sabine driving herself mad in her apartment or breaking herself in new ways at physical therapy or her latest particular habit. Going to the gym to do anything that didn't require her legs overmuch and staring wistfully at the saved address of a bouldering spot in town on her phone during the drive there and back. Enough was enough and regardless of her father's worried looks when she visited or the tutting of therapists, Terrasphere had left a gaping hole in her she couldn't deny. There was nothing like it back home. The power she could feel in every bit of her body. The confidence like a steel brace bracketing her spine and lining the set of her shoulders. The comforting press of her animal companions at the base of her skull in the primal part of her mind. Logging in again was not at all as dramatic and poetically comforting a scene as she'd imagined. She almost immediately caught a miniature pie to the face as a city guard ducked by being accosted by children attempting to... arrest the man? "The fuck is-" She glanced around to the chaotic madness and carnival games. The colorful tents and streamers. The odd costumes and clashing music. Gwyn relaxed as she took the moment to look around, her expression as wry as it was fond. "Never a dull moment, huh, TS?" With her returned to the world, so too were her hounds, and they immediately set to joining in on the chaos. The twin kangal warhounds tore past either side of her, pausing only enough to rise and nip or lick at her hands in greeting, before they darted forward to snatch up fallen bits of food from stalls. Gwyn lifted a hand to summon up a particular mini-pet, smiling softly at the leering eyes of the Raven Mocker. "Keep an eye on Hati and Skoll for me, will you Lisbon?" The Not-At-All-Sainted corvid merely flicked black ichor off its feathers with a flutter and took flight to circle above. An odd smell caught her attention as the fey creature's shadow slid away. The prickling scent of... curry? In a fantasy game with heavy European themes from what she'd seen of Falderen and Astorea? She followed curiously. Gwyn had logged in with the intention of throwing herself into the woods for honors, but perhaps she'd be better suited to the task if she fueled up on pork vindaloo. Sadly there seemed to be a bit of snit fit happening dead in front of the place. "Pardon me ma'am, but is there a problem here?" She called over the shoulder of the strange man with easily twenty sets of pained, irritated, or pitying eyes on him. Her smile to the woman was kind and her tone from behind @Philadelphia was pleasant, but Gwyn cracked the knuckles of her right head steadily against the palm of the left. No sense in not being prepared. Just in case.
“I am not a ma’am!” Philadelphia harrumphed with a scowl, turning around to come face-to-face with the blonde woman with a ponytail (@Gwyn ap Herne). Fortunately, for himself and everyone whose patience were short, it only took him at least three seconds to realize that he was being stupid. Okay, maybe not that, never that, but at least he realized he failed to understand something correctly? Wow. That’s a first. Probably going to be the last, too. “Oh, you mean her?” The self-proclaimed King of Eagles pointed a finger at the curry woman’s face, who could only roll her eyes and sigh at everything that was unfolding before her, before he took a step aside to ensure that the blonde woman with the ponytail could get a clear look at the other woman. It was unnecessary, but with Philadelphia, a lot of things were unnecessary. “There’s no problem, miss! …not anymore! You see, this fowl foul woman tried to trick me with her mind sorcery but my big bird brain was able to fend her disgusting treachery off.” There was pride in the way Philadelphia said those words, assumed his “heroic” feat, but wherever he got all that pride from, no one in their right mind would know. He took one of his heroic poses, where he would stand firm, legs apart, hands on hips, and a giant grin on her face. He let the blonde woman with the ponytail take it all in, at least for a few seconds more, before bowing in front of her, all gallant-like or whatever. “Once again, I, Philadelphia, the King of Eagles, has saved the day!” Philadelphia imagined trumpets announcing, worshipping, his victory, though he only earned the ire and annoyance of the woman in the curry hearse. “Can you please just buy something or leave?” the redheaded woman in the curry hearse sighed, chin on the counter. This was not how she wanted to spend the rest of her day, especially during such a festival. “If that weird guy with the mask hadn’t trick me into signing that contract, I’d be enjoying the festival with someone cute, not getting hassled by adventurers. When will this day end?!” She delivered that last line with so much drama that even Philadelphia had to approve, and he did, clapping his hands. Freedom, who was still perched on her human’s head, her talons deep in his skull, shook her head. Well, she tried to. As best as an eagle could. “Caw caw…” she sadly proclaimed, defeated, demoralized, delicious. (I don’t even know why I’m still here with you. This is so embarrassing.) “That’s right, my dear friend!” Philadelphia once again misread his eagle familiar’s tone. He shifted his attention from the dramatic curry woman to the woman with the ponytail. “We have yet to be properly introduced, my lady! My name is…PHILADELPHIA!!! …and I am the King of Eagles. What’s your name, featherless angel?”
