Mocha

'Cause I'm having a good time

"Come on Nori! You can do this one!" Mocha called from barrier. "Can you show me what you see?" The comment and question were half-spoken and half-mentally pushed through the link. He then sat quietly, brows furrowed and eyes squinted, trying to make sense of what the lizard was showing him.

The box itself seemed simple, with holes of different shapes carved into a smooth container. One object of every shape was scattered in front of it, each one a different colour. The hard part was going to be directing Nori to get the right shape into the right hole in the right orientation so they didn't get stuck. A little hard with only their mouth to grab them with, but imps were on standby for those who couldn't life or otherwise move their pieces. It was more about getting the right object in the right spot.

Mocha paused when Nori seemed fix on a particular shape, an orange circle, and they began the challenge. Okay that one! You just have to put it in the spot that looks the same. There, on the left! He urged, and Nori obediently picked up the piece, slithering over to plop it in the right spot.

"You're doing great!" Mocha encouraged from behind the curtain before focusing back on the mental link. Now that one, yeah! In the middle, there! The more pieces that Nori put in the right spot, the more praise Mocha gave him, chirping compliments and opening his pride to the link. The rest of the pieces went in just as smoothly, with Nori becoming just as eager and excited by the end of it as Mocha was. "I'll get you a really tasty treat after that performance, I promise!"

Score: 1

ANALA
From a spark to a flame

"You did so good on the other one, you can do this too!" She offered her companion a nuzzle before they separated to opposite sides of the curtain. "Just focus on what you're seeing. Show me clearly." She squinted, trying to make sense of the colours that flooded her mind. They were pretty, but she tried to get the message across that it was the shapes that mattered.

With that idea alone, Ragnar seemed to have no trouble with the puzzle, easily finding the right spots with minimal guidance. "That's it! You are just the smartest little guy, aren't you?" She played up his success, and the skrungler ate it up, puffing under her praises. "You are totally going to win the battle section!"

OOC Notes: 2 points

The moth was, admittedly, a tad tiny to be moving blocks. Thankfully, it at least focused on the task this time, and Oliver felt a rush of exhilaration and sweet bonding as he realized it was trying to cooperate with him!

It fluttered down, and he saw (with growing wonder) through its multifaceted eyes. At once he understood. "Oh-! The--that, there--that goes in that hole, can you see it? Oh-..." It was too small.

But the fox-imps stepped forward, and when the moth indicated what it wanted, they did the lifting, at least.

Good job! he praised it, mind-to-mind, with genuine enthusiasm.

Score: 2

POCKET LESSERS!

Part II: Team Challenge!

The spotlights were on every pair, now, as they each went one at a time. Or rather, two at a time. Most were greeted with fake fireworks and blaring trumpets, after their puzzle attempts were met with suspenseful drumrolls. East's creature was given particular praise; Miriam's, canned, mocking laughter. Happy music played for those Lessers who managed the task, and roars and applause from a fake crowd met the last few.

"GREAT JOB, CRITTER-HERDERS! Next up... something a little different!"

Spotlights now converged on the next challenge: a little stage with rows of canvases on easels, stools set before them. Art supplies were lined up below: paints and crayons, pencils and brushes and cups of water.

"Our fox-imps will whisper a scene or creature to you, and you've gotta guide your new little buddy--or BIG buddy--in drawing it! Or painting it! Extra bonus points for artistic talent! Aaaand.... GO!"

---

Team Challenge - Round 3!

This challenge allows players to decide upon a scene or character murmured to them by the fox-imps. Their character should then guide their linked Lesser in attempting to portray it on canvas, with whatever artistic tools they want to use!

Players should roll Other (or, if their character is Other-path, physical combat--to keep roll thresholds fair) to see whether their familiar succeeds in their painting.

Round 3 allows for a range of scores (for artistic judging): 1 point for Barely Successful rolls, 2 for a Success, and 3 for a Critical Success! Keep track of your score!

New characters may no longer join this thread, aside from as spectators. The next post will take place on July 3rd, so please post by the end of the 2nd. If anyone already in the thread missed posting in the last round, they may double-post this round: once for each round.

Note: these rolls cannot be used for character progression.

@Oliver @Mocha @Sair @Anala @East @Kaizer @Miriam @Eleanora @Richter @Knightly (Tahlia) @Rift

ANALA
From a spark to a flame

Oh no. Anala could do puzzles meant for children, sure. She could guide a lesser through a battle, sure. But painting? Drawing? Now those were things she had never once thought to try her paw at. Beginner's luck, maybe? She hoped Ragnar was a better artist than she was. Did lessers draw, normally? She didn't think so.

Well, here goes nothing... "Just use whatever is easiest to hold, okay buddy?" She encouraged, focusing on a mental image of the scene she was given by one of the imps. She could hear Ragnar shuffling around and the sound of something dragging across the canvas after a moment. That was a good sign, right?

When the curtain was drawn, however, it seemed that Ragnar had gotten a little too eager with the various instruments. The canvas was a mess of colour. Reds, yellows, greens, whatever was behind that curtain had been smeared across the previously white canvas with no rhyme nor reason. Ragnar chirped and chittered, happy to have tried something new. "Can we keep the paintings?" She asked the nearest imp, vocalizing what her lesser could not.

OOC Notes: 2 points

Mocha

'Cause I'm having a good time

As the next challenge was announced, Mocha wasted no time in setting both himself and Nori up for the event. "Isn't this so exciting?!" He chirped, waddling as he usually did towards the easel to ask an imp to lower it. Nori was rather small, you see. "I've always wanted to paint!" He declared as if 'always' wasn't less than a cycle of time before he moved to the other side of the curtain.

Upon being given his subject, Mocha tried to envision the scene in his mind. He simplified it to basic shapes, just like Fahl had done with the patterns on the walls vaguely resembling the shape of his stone. Greys and browns for the cave floor, blues and purples for gems on the walls, and the brilliant brightness of the spire at the very center of the canvas. Nori tried his best to keep up, slathering paint on the canvas with a loosely held brush in his mouth. When the top of the canvas became too difficult to reach, an imp lifted Nori to the correct height.

In the end, it was a child-like rendition, but the shapes were mostly recognizable. "So pretty!" Mocha cheered, offering Nori an affectionate lick. "We'll have to keep it to show Fahl!"

Score: 2

Sair

Sair was relaxed on their side of the curtain, gently swaying their tail as they waited for a sign from Trill. An image settled in their mind, a simple box with a series of holes matching the shapes of the object in a pile beside it. You must be good with patterns, given your own? They mused, returning the image with one of their own; the square, followed by the hole in which it would need to be placed. Signal the imp if you can't lift it, but you're strong, right?

With a huff through the connection, Trill plucked up the piece and shoved it into the slot, showing Sair mentally after it was done. What did I tell you? Good girl! Trill absorbed the praise silently, but tickles of its emotion told Sair that they were glad they did well. How about the triangle next? Another set of images were exchanged through the link, then another and another, until the puzzle was done. See? I knew you could so it! Something along the lines of 'duh' was the response.

"Speaking." Thinking. Doing.
OOC: 1 points

We don't know how to accept we're just a product of a chance /
And less like gods but more like plants

Sair

This section's events had been a toss up. One challenge Trill did not care for, and another they completed without hesitation. Sair could only hope that the firetongue was artistically inclined.

I'm going to show you an image, alright? You just need to use those things in front of you. See all those colours? An affirming sound came from beyond the curtain. Good, use those on that canvas to make something similar. Just match the colours and shapes like we did in the last puzzle. It was not quite as simple as that, given the intricacies of art that Sair had seen in their life, but it was unfair to expect such a thing from a lesser.

Sair relayed the image they were given, a den-like construction made of bones. A strange thing to picture, but they did nonetheless, and Trill got to work. Despite asking, Sair did not get any updates from Trill until the curtain lifted, revealing... Well, it was alright. You did better than I thought you would. Always one to prove me wrong, yeah? Trill chittered.

"Speaking." Thinking. Doing.
OOC: 2 points

We don't know how to accept we're just a product of a chance /
And less like gods but more like plants

Vast differences in personality often lead to conflicting perspectives on a subject. To make such contrasting minds agree on an opinion required a presence too wondrous or horrifying for anyone normal to ever consider an alternative view other than the one gut instinct demanded. It was the instant recoil and scream, silenced or not, upon witnessing a murder. Other times it could be the gaping astonishment directed at the sight of natural phenomena so fantastical that their reality was difficult to accept. In the case of our unlikely team of deer and bird, the shared reaction was a convulsive shudder reserved for the unveiling of instruments of torture. For East the reason belying this was the fact his craftier endeavors ran greater risk of injury, while the Tunnel Runner simply dreaded manipulating such slim tools as the cup full of paintbrushes that tauntingly sat by an easel looming in front of his snout.

Delighting perhaps a bit too much in his job, an imp with a smile wide enough that it threatened to swallow the rest of his face, jogged up to the pair. As he neared, growing proximity to the formidable bruiser of ribs tempered his glee, and his steps became daintier. He skirted around the Lesser's backside to the shoulder where his more harmless partner perched.

Although most of East's features remained stoic as the scene they had to depict was imparted to him, perhaps some observant individuals could read the subtle shine of emotions emerging in his yellow eyes: alarm transitioned to squinting suspicion before finally fading into heavy resignation. He sighed, nodded, and gave his prickly steed a mental nudge that guided them over to the closest blank canvas waiting to be filled. Trepidation marked their approach, convicts marching off to a death sentence.

Delaying the slow sinking sensation of failure he predicted, first paints of whichever color he needed were arranged along the easel as meticulously as he could direct the Tunnel Runner to accomplish without invoking ire. The picture then was tackled in sections. Bold strokes of charcoal gray established the background, accompanied by streaks of brown, showing a rocky interior common to the caves. Moving on to the mid and foreground provided the necessary detail to better identify the rendered destination. Winding streams of red, orange, and yellow populated the canvas, and various workbenches were erected, tools abandoned on their worn stone surfaces. These were constructed to gradually draw the eye of any looking at the painting toward a tall, dark figure placed slightly off center, busy hammering glowing metal into shape.

Highlights and shadows finished the piece once he managed to cajole his familiar sufficiently into switching to a more slender brush. These last touches gave the Underforge a palpable heat that rose off the canvas. Detecting East's somewhat hesitant satisfaction, the Tunnel Runner flung his tool to the ground with a snort that clearly said, "Good riddance."

Score: 4

"This should prove interesting," Miriam spoke as she took in the new set up shown. Voice straining its utmost to maintain a facade of cheer and optimism, she could nearly feel splinters needling her tongue.

To her immense irritation, this showcase was not going quite the way she'd planned. The familiar she'd begun to derisively dub as Claude—a play on his more fierce than expected attitude—had utterly derailed any possibility of gaining the audience's admiration. At most, the two of them were proving to be a form of comic relief in between more impressive performances, their failures the source of no doubt more than a few joyful tears pricking at the corners of eyes. For an exquisite creature as herself, the less than fawning attention rankled, and although her Lesser lackey seemed to quail under her disapproval, he demonstrated no signs of quitting his petty acts of rebellion.

Much as she loathed the idea of putting in the effort, it seemed adapting to this expectation of their duo was the only course available to thwart the continuing insolence. If the Kyte wished so badly to be a laughingstock, she'd encourage him to do so. Then they would see who truly suffered most from the havoc wreaked upon his ego.

Enraptured by her own cunning, the gleaming tips of fangs peeked past dark lips, a wide and mischievous grin suppressed at the subject whispered into her ear. "Why don't we show everyone your amazing eye, hmmm? I'm sure they're dying to see your take on this lovely fellow."

Claude, however, was not an opponent to be underestimated. Terrified but increasingly stubborn in his refusal to bend to a bully's whims, he displayed an astonishing amount of intelligence in deciphering the reason behind her sudden insistence at egging him on. Repeated attempts at guiding his brushstrokes lead nowhere, the Kyte perching on a stool and refusing to lift a single implement. Once she'd stopped prodding him entirely out of exhaustion and grumbles from the stands signaled a growing lack of patience with the inactivity below, finally he made his move. Taking the largest paintbrush which could be found amongst the gathered collection, he dunked it into a jar of black paint and marked the canvas.

His masterpiece? A single dot that swirled into being as he circled his brush over the blank space.

Nothing stopped the disgruntled expression on Miriam's face this time. Honestly, the gumption of the action drew out a hint of respect, too, in her puckered frown. It was a first to have her game be so easily read and turned upon her.

Score: 0

My god, is she upholding one terrible streak of luck.