Now that Balder was FAR from that bloody RAT CAVE she could finally rest in peace. Right? Right.

...Wrong.

A little rat scampered out in front of Balder as she padded down the verdant tunnel. Five whole eyes caught sight of it, and then five whole eyes went red with rage.

She broke into a mad dash, her wings tucked tight to her sides, bolting forward without a care for the noise she made or the safety she endangered. Naturally, the rat ran the other direction. Naturally, Balder followed.

Unnaturally, as Balder headed straight for a wall of the tunnel (the rat being able to make it through a small crevice at the bottom), the wall just... shifted. And Balder could make it through...? Assuming she was now beyond this wall and the chase was still on, Balder would move forward.

And forward.

And a little more... forward.

Until she stopped believing in the chase and had the profound thought of perhaps retracing her steps. She turned back and... huh. Weird. So, give up on that plan and move forward...

...Forward...

...Forward...

Music. Oh no. Are you certain there's no way back at this point? Chatter. OH NO. The noises were getting louder but Balder couldn't bring herself to stop until finally, finally--

FREEDOM! Or was she simply in the rat's nest now?

Didn't... look like it...

The scent of food mixed with the sudden burst of lights was almost overwhelming. The shock was really all that was keeping Balder cool at the moment. Without really thinking about it, the crystalwing cat... moved on through.

At first, she felt like a ghost, watching from a plane overlapping the physical. That was until she realized she was being stared at directly from several directions. The people here... "people" here were really strange. Fox-like (thank goodness) and very, well... lively? Dressed up in the most fascinating patterns and shapes... Balder felt a little enchanted by it all.

She stumbled over to the nearest starer. It stood behind an obstacle of some kind. "I'm Balder!" She was being, perhaps, a little too loud-- "Wuh... what IS this place?" Five eyes darted around, one of them landing on something strange and soft, attached to another creature's stall-obstacle-thing. "What's that?!" She gestured vaguely towards it.

Fox-like imp leaned in, slanted eyes narrowing as black lips pulled up in a grin. Needle-teeth glinted in the flash of multicolored lights. "Why, this is the Carnival! And these are the games. Those, are the prizes." There was strange, sly emphasis on "games." And a little on "prizes," too.

Whatever could that mean?

The rows of games stretched along this dusty walkway. Among them were a small shooting gallery, whose owner (or the one running it, at least) called out "SHOOT THE MOUSE, MAGIC OR NONE, GET A FABULOUS PRIZE!" It was a booth, more than a stand, with a large cage at the back, and several Red Mice scurrying around inside it. Crude drawings, flashy and bright, along the front of the booth suggested that visitors could try to hit a rat with magic, or to use one of the little wooden crossbows provided, for a multitude of prizes. These crossbows did not look safe, or non-lethal. Along its walls were plush rats and mice of different sizes--from tiny to enormous--with adorable eyes, along with tons of tiny trinkets: pearls and gemstones, chipped bones and wilted flowers. Things, it seemed, taken from Red Mice nests.

Another game featured a little river, with tiny wooden fish--their many-colored paints fading and chipped--bobbing along in it. Toy fishing poles with magnet hooks were lined up to try and catch some; the wooden fish seemed oddly reactive to light and motion. The prizes in this stall included battered, fried fish on a little stand, little fish or fishhook pendants and jewelry, and pretty shirts or vests in different colors (the most expensive prizes, it seemed) that looked to be made of glittering fish-scales.

Ahh, but this wasn't all to catch--and hold--the eye!

A game of hoops and wooden balls, with prizes of great, fluffy Lesser Gembound toys; a game to pop balloons with darts, with balloon prizes; a dunk-the-Wind-Hopper game with a green-swirled rabbit sat atop a stool, the water beneath it (in its glass case) featuring a particularly large Redfang (with prizes like little water-ring games, wooden carved Redfangs and more); a Cups-shuffling game run by a grinning, gap-toothed Carny and with prizes that seemed scavenged from the other booths; and more.

At the end of the row was a purple-hooded tent, gilded with faded gold. It was dark inside, incense trickling out; within was a hooded creature behind a little table, with a crystal ball set out before it. There were no prizes at this booth.

@Balder

The creatures, the lights, the music, the whole ambience here was unsettling to say the very least. This was, apparently, the Carnival, and those were the games, and the games had prizes. Well. First of all, Balder was not one to turn away in fear from anything, especially not a potential challenge. And the concept of prizes wasn't uninteresting. A king ought to have a good hoard, after all.

The first game he saw was the one a Carny called attention to: "SHOOT THE MOUSE, MAGIC OR NONE, GET A FABULOUS PRIZE!" It was a mouse, of course, fundamentally different from a rat, but... well, she could at least look at the other options first.

Balder would wander (briefly) throughout the aisles of games, analyzing thoughtfully (glancing at for about 10 seconds) each one's mechanics and prizes. After lengthy consideration (20 seconds, give or take), she decided to head to the rat mouse game again based on pure logical reasoning (arbitrary impulse decision making). He could play other games later.

Balder didn't have a clue about magic, but there appeared to some kind tool provided for the task. He was pretty darn sure he was smart enough to figure it out and manage. Those rats mice were really infuriating to look at... he wanted to let out some terrible wrath and aggression. So Balder would insert himself; "I'm Balder, and I'm playing this game to WIN. Your little ra-- mice are gonna be redder than ever before!" This was meant as more of a promise than a threat. Was that wording awkward? Yeah No, not at all, plus it didn't matter. Balder would attempt to fumble with the crossbow.

The stirrup was held, the string drawn back, but did the bat-creature even know how to operate one of these things-? The Carny running the booth seemed to have its doubts, staring down with an uncertain (but hopeful...) grin.

The string snapped forward. The little bolt shot back, straight for one of Balder's legs!

The Carny's grin, and eyes, widened. "WANT ANOTHER GO? DO ANOTHER--DO ANOTHER!" it shouted, and then broke into cackling laughter.

@Balder

Balder would fumble successfully, perfectly actually! Perfect fumbler. What went wrong was the CROSSBOW. The string would spring forward, sending a bolt towards Balder's leg instead of any targeted mouse. Balder would hiss and reflexively leap out of the way, just barely in time. The bolt wound manage to graze his leg. The Carny would grin and demand more -- what was that, an encore or a command? Maybe it was a challenge? And WHY--

Balder snarled. He certainly couldn't give up now.

Growling and snarling like a little maniac, Balder would once again step up to bat-- or was it 'bow? Anyways, yet again he would fumble with the crossbow, aiming for any mouse that caught his attention first. He had to win! No absurd, defective toy or goading Carny was going to stop him!

But again, the crossbow would falter and spring the bolt back towards him with a wicked hiss. Balder would return the wicked hiss and attempt to, once again, dodge the bolt aimed straight for his little paws...

...And this time he would not make it in time.

"YEEEEOWCH--!!!" Balder would yowl cartoonishly, quickly yanking the bolt out. Eugh, that was bloody and painful. The Carny just snickered. "WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM? IDIOT! GET ME SOME HELP OR SOMETHING!!" Balder was met with nothing but the most infuriating laughter.

Balder would roar: "I'M LEAVING YOU CRAZY- YOU-!!!" before promptly... leaving. He hobbled for another tent, making it some... 10 feet? Before turning and power-hobbling right back around. There was a passionate flame in his eyes now. "I'll shOW YOU--" he grumbled with all the melodrama and angst of an elementary school kid.

The blood ceased to matter as anger consumed the little Pallas' catbat... thing...

Just one more chance! One more time! If this time it didn't work then Balder would absolutely leave 'cause this thing was totally rigged. But if he got it then it wasn't rigged and he was awesome and that was an enticing situation. He absolutely would show that stupid cackling Carny. "SHUT UP, I'm FOCUSING." And indeed that did seem to be the truth, as Balder would narrow his eyes and put a paw up to his chin and do some real hard thinkin' and observin' before he finally lined up his shot...

And, yet again. SNAP! His bolt would run straight for his feet.

The little fuzzball would spike upwards, but not with enough fervor to completely clear the bolt. Yet another graze, dangerously close to his existing open wound. Balder would unleash a violent hiss, glaring like an enraged bull at the Carny who couldn't seem to get enough of this show.

Balder wasn't leaving. Balder wasn't LEAVING. Balder wasn't FINISHED until Balder was the VICTOR, the CHAMPION of this WHOLE ACCURSED ARCADE!!!

Back at it again with the crossbow, seething with such ire and loathing and wrath and other synonyms for anger and hate that Balder couldn't even speak. If this didn't start working out now, Balder wouldn't hesitate to tear this whole syndicate to the GROUND.

SNAP!

Dread. Quickly consumed by blazing rage. Then? SHNK--

Hey. That's not his leg! Or his paw! That's...