Huffing and puffing, Porkchop twisted his head around, looking for his next game to WIN. A complicated machine caught his attention: some kind of transparent box with objects inside, and a cruel-looking claw dangling over it all. "HEHEHEH!" Porkchop crowed. "Do I get to be a PREDATOR? With a TERRIFYING CLAW OF FATE?"

He rushed over to the claw game at once, unceremoniously sticking his snout right into the mess of joysticks and nudging them this way and that, giggling to himself as the claw swung and flexed at his command. "Now... WHAT WILL THIS CLAW OF FATE WIN? THIS ENTIRE CARNIVAL MUST BOW DOWN before FATE!!"

Content Warning
This post contains potentially sensitive material:

strong language

Imp narrowed his-... eye sockets.

"Just a PRANK?! You turned them into TREES, you shitbiscuit!" A low hiss escaped his jaws. "What about my eyes?! Was that JUST A PRANK too?!" For a moment, Imp lapsed into pure profanity: a string of almost surreal swearwords linked together with very little logic and a great deal of anger. "You string-shit peanut fuck moron! Go eat a razor rock! I hope you choke on it, too, you tiny buzz-fuck cottonball crap-ball!" He took a breath, but the rage had turned into a hot, red buzzing in his head and had left no room for further thought.

For a moment the hybrid simply lay there, seething, and then he turned and stomped off to where he assumed the games were. "This better not be a fucking trick," he hissed, but now it was more like a mutter than a snarl, barely audible under his breath.

Imp was still blind, of course, but his ears were very sensitive. It made the chaotic noise of the Carnival damn near painful--and it made Porkchop's bellowing, thundering stampede almost deafening. He winced and pressed himself to the ground, ears flat against his horned head, and when the pig had smashed past and attacked the games with full force, Imp turned to stare blindly after him.

"What the fuck," he whispered.

He followed his ears, after that, listening to the carnies' barks and advertisements. Ball toss was outta the question, so was shooting bows or darts without eyes to guide them by. But the mallet slam sounded... okay?

Imp approached that, first. It took some finagling--some shifting around and asking for help and lining up his tail. When at last he was ready, he lifted his tail and slammed it down with full force. It hit askance, glancing off and barely moving the meter--but Imp didn't know that.

"I hope this shit is worth it," he muttered to himself.

One of the carnies--probably thinking themselves hilarious--guided Imp "helpfully" to the Carousel. He clambered on, scowling and muttering to himself the entire time, and slid up onto the metal saddle of some horrifically malformed Valkhound "horse." There he clung, absent, uncertain as to what would happen. Nobody warned him the stupid horses would try to fling him off. The other guests present probably didn't know; and the carnies, well.

All he got from them was a single snickered "Hold on tight," right before the ride lurched into horrific motion.

"AHHHHHHHHHH!" Imp had time to scream, if barely, as the things suddenly shifted from a slow spin to a violent thrashing. He clung for dear life, claws scrabbling at the metal, his feathers puffed out in a display of startled terror.

For several long moments he barely hung on, flailing as he struggled to cling to the horse; he didn't even have the presence of mind, or the time, to curse or hiss at the carnies who were now huddled nearby, laughing hysterically at his predicament.

When at last the ride came to a halt, Imp was--to his credit--still holding tight; and he hastened to get down, shaking and still puffed up, traumatized by the carousel.

"I can't fuckin' see shit, but at least I can hold onto stuff," Imp reasoned a few minutes later.

It was this logic that led him lastly to the roller coaster. He clambered in gingerly, tucking himself as far into the seat as he could get and searching (a little fruitlessly) for something in the floor of the car to hold tight to. But it was all smooth metal, so in the end he sat upright--like a person!--in the seat as a carnie clicked the questionably small safety bar into place over Imp's lap. It was to this bar that he slowly clung, almost curling around it as the dread began to set in.

The cars went up--clicking slowly along a steep track--and the sound of giggling, snickering fox-imps had the real Imp "looking" down and around frantically, pointing his ears toward them.

They're laughing at me, he realized, with dawning horror. He had half a second to wonder why, and then the world seemed to drop out from underneath him.

He couldn't find his breath--it was stuck somewhere in his chest, in a ball of terrified tightness. Imp couldn't even scream! He gripped the bar so hard it hurt his muscles, and again found himself hanging on for dear life.

And hoping that he hadn't been wrong about what seemed to be his single strength here: not falling off of things.

He nearly did fall out--when the coaster inverted over the water, his body spun and half-fell out, and he felt the tip of his tail swipe through it. A yelp escaped him, then, and he was scrambling back up into the car when the coaster came back upright--dumping Imp headfirst back into the car.

When the coaster came sliding to a halt, Imp was still upside-down, tail and legs and one wing flailing in the air as he struggled to right himself again.

At last he stumbled out, but instead of swearing, this time, he took a breath and screamed: "Fuck YEAAAAAH that was good! What'd I WIN!?"

Nemean floated idly over to watch the Gembounds work. She sipped from her curly straw, and glared after Imp as he swore up and down. He was swearing at thin air--she almost laughed at the dumbass, but he was starting to aggravate her, now. Her eyes narrowed and, idly, the Master plotted. She could think of a lot of fun ways to absolutely destroy him, and she'd probably do it, too.

But, like, later. Right now, she was more than a little worried about the whole "angry Farina" thing. At least, she assumed it was Farina. And probably Artio--right?

Meh.

Her attention lingered on Porkchop, for now. The big pig went from game to game, first absolutely obliterating the mallet smash game (she was pretty sure he'd actually cracked its plastic). Then, he trampled the whack-a-rat, grunting and stamping on the puppet rats with surprising speed and efficiency. It wasn't anything all that exciting, but the carnies seemed to enjoy it. Oh, but-...

Then, Porkchop went to the Claw Game. Everyone knew the Claw Game was a scam. Nobody ever won that thing; it was rigged. Nemean stifled a laugh as she sipped her drink, and she saw the Carnies snickering in the corners, watching. She knew what they were thinking: how would the enormous, violent, and very enthusiastic pig react when he horribly lost-?

Except-... he didn't.

A bright beam of light illuminated the booth as the claw came up with... Is that my fucking Orb? But--it hadn't been hers, not ever, not really. It had been, like many things Nemean possessed, borrowed. Not stolen, mind you. Just-... borrowed, for awhile. It was bright pink, a glass-like ball maybe a bit under a foot in diameter. It glowed with an unearthly light, and if Porkchop actually touched it, it'd burn like hell.

She couldn't even be mad; she was too damn impressed. And the fox-imps were rapt, staring, their jaws hanging open. A moment later they broke into cheering, whistling, amazed shouting. They crowded around Porkchop like he was their new hero, and threw flowers and handfuls of cinnamon-fried ants to him in celebration. Someone, from somewhere, found a flower wreath and tried to put it around the pig's neck.

Two others came forth with his winnings from the Whack-a-Rat and Mallet Smash games: a small, red, plastic kazoo that would be particularly irritating and buzzy when blown, though in an entirely non-magical way; and a very small steel ring enchanted with the Whisper spell, so that it gave off a constant, unintelligible whispering.

Imp was given far less attention, though the Carnies certainly had a hysterical laugh at his expense. When he was done hanging on for dear life, he was brought two prizes: a tiny pennant flag on a plastic stick, embroidered with a picture of the Carnival, and a tiny wisp glowing in a little glass bottle on a necklace of twine. Both required eyes to make any use of, but the Carnies didn't seem to mind.

"...Well that was fuckin' fast," breathed Nemean, and then she buzzed over toward Porkchop and the rest. She didn't even know if the pig knew about this whole Artio situation, and as funny as it'd be to let him run off with Dawa's stupid old ball, Nemean really didn't feel like getting hunted down and killed or something. So she cheered at Porkchop, and did her best to explain. "Nobody's EVER won that game before," she started, which was probably a lie. She'd never actually kept track. "And that ball you won? Well, get something to carry it in, because if you touch it, it STINGS. Like, a lot. And bring it back with these guys to get even more prizes. Some kinda reward. I don't know. I guess I'd BETTER come with you back to Cetus," she sighed, annoyed.

Better than being dead, though. Right?

Porkchop, Fahl and Imp are now free to accompany Nemean back to Cetus if they so wish, or may continue playing games for awhile. After they exit this thread, A New Leaf: Part III will be made in Cetus and these characters will be tagged.

Characters may continue to join this thread until the end of May, rolling for attempts at the game(s) of their choice. Please post for a GM to give you the results of your attempts; various prizes can be won! Available game booths are currently:

Ball Toss - Throw a ball through one of a series of rings!
Shooting Gallery - Use magic or a bow and arrows provided to hit live Red Rats, or lined up bottles!
Dart Toss - Pop the balloons! (They explode into confetti!)
Dipping Tank - Hit the target with magic or a provided ball; dip the carny into water to win a prize!
Mallet Slam - Test of strength! A physical roll to slam down a button and trigger a strength meter!
Whack-a-Rat - Smash puppet 'rats' that pop up through holes in a board!
The Claw Game - Use joysticks to direct a claw to retrieve prizes from an enclosed glass box!
The Carousel - A carousel whose mysterious steeds try to buck the riders off! Hold on to win!
The Roller Coaster - A small coaster on a track; it flips upside-down over a water pool. Hold on to not fall in!

Porkchop receives:

1★

Ring of Whisper - a small, steel ring enchanted with Whisper

Imp receives:

1★

Wisp in a Bottle - a small, glass bottle on a twine necklace with an enchanted Wisp inside

@Porkchop @Fahl @Imp

Bebby had been through so much excitement lately!! but, when she heard of the carnival, she thought, sure!! sounds super fun!! so, she ran into the carnival, looking at all the cool games and rides, and ultimately decided she'd try the claw game first, the prizes in there looked neat! she wouldn't even wait for someone to greet her, just running on in.

she ran forward, and, using her oversized claws to grab them, began pushing the joysticks around. she figured that the goal was to try and position the claw to grab something, right?

so that's what she did! "c'mon baby, grab one!" she snickered under her breath excitedly.

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Bold claim that he’d be able to win the entire carnival aside, of the three that tromped their way to its many games, Fahl was the last of them. In part, the enthusiastic reception Nemean had given his ruse could be blamed; encouragement from one as despicable as her was like being slathered in fresh shit—warm and utterly disgusting. So unexpected had it been that for a moment he merely stood there, too surprised by the effect of his introduction to do much else.

No attempts were made to speak any further. No doubt dumb stutters would have left his mouth instead of intelligent thought. And no sooner had the queasiness that’d knotted his intestines begun to subside than Imp exploded over the mockery neither of them appreciated.

The tension in the immediate area should have ratcheted up by multiple degrees. Fahl’s shoulders should’ve tensed in preparation for the possible retribution that his teacher’s insolence might bring down upon them. At least, that would’ve been sensible, given his strong apprehension of the awful sprite and her sick sense of humor. Instead, for the iguana, the ranting accomplished the opposite. Sharp vitriol poked a hole into the balloon of negative emotion swelling against his ribcage, and enraged pressure and pain slowly bled away from his form as a cathartic sigh.

Despite the relief of voiced displeasure, a faint touch of disappointment emerged in anger’s absence. Directness had its virtues as Fahl understood well: the efficiency involved saved his tongue from many an unnecessary and tiresome flap. But in the here and now, as frustrating as it could be, tip-toeing around true motivations had been preferable to openly stating a desire to drag Nemean through every possible mud puddle on the way to Cetus. Now that she knew their intentions, who knew how she’d react.

While he settled into a more comfortable slouch from his original prideful pose, murky eyes moved from Imp to Nemean and back. He sharply inhaled at the trivialization of the other Masters’ plight. On his next few exhales, steam would have risen from his breath if he’d bothered to use magic, sympathetic to the ongoing outpouring of red-hot indignation.

So she'd done the deed with this orb, and of course had lost it to these carny creatures. It seemed a little too good to be true, yet another game she wanted to string others along for, but it was all they had to go off of.

Considering Imp's blindness, following in his steps wouldn't have been too terrible of an idea. However, it covered far less ground, taking into account that Nemean had given no clue as to who might have her tool. Never mind that tailing him so closely felt almost like distrust of the batgator's capabilities, not letting him blunder and bluster about the carnival on his own terms. Therefore whereas one headed for demonstrations of strengths and staying willpower, the other broke away from the trail to go where something referred to as a ball toss was loudly advertised.

Being naturally low to the ground, some accommodations had to be made so that he could even see the rings he was supposed to aim for. Stubby forelegs not exactly the best for throwing, he resorted to clamping his mouth down on the grimy ball he was given instead. Then, craning his neck as far back as he could possibly achieve, he swung his chin forward and let the object fly from his grip.

And almost gave himself a serious case of whiplash from trying so hard.

Neck aching, brain rattling inside of its case, it took Fahl a good minute to recover from what should've been apparent to him as a terrible method of throwing a ball when lacking the arm reach and opposable thumbs for the job. His vision wasn't in the best shape, shaking as eye sockets vibrated in place, but hearing still worked fine; the overseeing carny's giggle-snorts rang loud and clear to him, so that when they turned to gasps and then hoots and hollers, those were noticed as well.

"Well, shit," was his remark once he learned what all the commotion was about. Talk about fast. He'd been expecting far more of an ordeal in locating the orb or the whole thing to be a set up so that Nemean could slip away without any chance of consequences for her behavior. But this pig had actually managed to get it.

And now they needed something to carry it away. If the lucky winner would even go along with them.

"Fffu..." Fahl swallowed the cuss before it could fully form. "Does anyone have... something to wrap it up with? Maybe there's a prize like that."

This was the high point of Porkchop's life. He was practically floating with pleasure and self-satisfaction, every cheer and holler from the carnies adding to the high of having won so decisively something that, according to Nemean, should have been unwinnable.

He had gotten the magic orb that the ENTIRE CAVES apparently wanted! It was his skill that would... save the world or something! He absolutely deserved this. Porkchop giggled in a voice so high it was like he'd inhaled helium, and puffed on the bright kazoo to add to the noise and celebration. The whole musical endeavor left him feeling like he was about to faint.

It was lucky that Nemean warned him about touching the ball, because Porkchop was JUST about to try to throw it with his head and march it around in a parade of confetti and flower-wreathed glory. He jerked away from the ball just as his snout was about to touch it, falling backward onto his bottom in his haste. "WHEW, he huffed in relief. Something to carry it with? Where was he supposed to get that?

Porkchop looked around blankly. Maybe one of the carnies could carry it for him... they weren't himself, after all, so they were expendable, right? But... no way he trusted this ONE IN A MILLION prize with anyone other than himself. What if they tried to steal his rightful victory and glory?

"...what do I carry it in?" he asked one of the carnies at last, huddling protectively around the orb as best he could without touching it. Oh, what was that the lizard said? A prize like that? WHAT A GOOD IDEA! He had to--he had to do that before anyone else did, to cement his place in this whole thing and keep the lizard from stealing part of it and claiming he contributed as well! "I can win another game! HOLD ON, watch me SMASH THIS BUTTON again!"

Once again, he THUNDERED TOWARD THE MALLET SMASH BUTTON, LEAPED into the air, and came CRASHING DOWN with his hooves aimed DIRECTLY AT THE BUTTON.

Nemean buzzed in place, waiting for the Gembounds to get their shit together and get moving. Not that she was really in a rush to go and face Artio, or Creator forbid, Farina herself; and that's the only reason she just hovered, sipping her drink, instead of cheering for everyone to move their asses.

Bebby caught her eye, though. Furry. Sparkly as hell. Smelled like-... (Nemean sniffed.) ...Candy?? Was that candy? "Pssst," she whispered, half-sidling up (while still flying) to the fairy-looking cat with the giant claws. Nemean eyed her up and down. "You want to be my mighty steed?" she asked. And then, to clarify: "It's a HUGE honor. I'm a big deal." Of course, Bebby failed at the Claw Game--the Carnies laughed, in the background. And usually that'd be good for a laugh, but Nemean waved 'em down. She imagined herself zipping into battle--or, at least, the spotlight--astride this candy-striped white cat-thing and the idea was hilarious. "We're two cat-fairies of a kind," she assured Bebby. "Whaddya say?"

Fahl's ball hit its mark with a loud thunk, meanwhile, arcing with an almost-devastating-bash against the side of its ring but then sailing through and hitting the plywood behind. A few carnies cheered, and one came trotting out with Fahl's reward: a shining Orion's Scale fish--very much alive--in a little bowl. Perhaps Fahl would keep it as a pet, or set it free.

Or eat it.

The carnies watched, eyes wide and grins breathless, to see which it would be.

Porkchop's hooves then smashed down on the button--already a little cracked--so hard that a few of the Carnies came rushing over with not one, not two, but three options of colorful cloth in which to wrap up and carry the orb. One was plaid, pink and gold; another was a solid darker pink; the third was hues of polka-dotted green, white, and blue. Whichever Porkchop chose, the fox-imps hastened to wrap the orb up in a way that he could carry it.

Without destroying anymore carnival games.

@Fahl @Porkchop @Bebby

Bebby, failing the claw machine, was a little bummed, but the OTHER FAIRY CAT!! had caught her eyes aswell! "Me??? your steed?? that'd be so cool!!! so like, you'd ride me into battle or somethin'? that sounds FUN!! she said, practically bouncing in place.

she turned her head back to the claw machine, still looking back and forth rather rapidly as she talked to nemean, just so she could try again. "so, what's that mean for me? can i still go see home?" she asked idly, once again moving her paws to try and win something on the claw machine, still looking at and talking to nemean though of course, it'd be rude to talk to somebody without looking at them.

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