Venefyxatu

Congratulations! May you enjoy your newfound ranks

Venefyxatu watched in amusement at Horace's confusion and muttered appreciatively when he heard her increasing the bid just a little. He opened his pouch and rummaged through the coins with one finger for a few moments. When he was done doing so, apparently satisfied, he looked up and nodded at the auctioneer to increase his bid to 22.

(OOC : good - for some reason I didn't want to be the first How long will the auction last?) Venefyxatu raises his staff a little in a sign towards the auctioneer. 20 geld.

YaYan, enjoy your break ... and make sure to not wipe us completely from your memory

Black and Venefyxatu sat next to each other in the shadow of a small, somewhat dilapidated mausoleum. The sun made patterns on the ground and the only sound was that of the wind playing in between the graves. “I heard you signed up for the bachelor's auction ... getting tired of warfare?” The vampire grinned. “Yes, I did – and no I'm not. The thing is, I'm sure it'll be fun. You should know by now that that's reason enough for me ...” Venefyxatu replied with a thin smile. “Yes, I should ... “ “Why don't you try it?” “Me? Auctioning myself off? You must be joking.” “No, I'm serious. Why don't you give it a try? Spending time with something that actually breathes wouldn't harm you, you know.” With a thoughtful look, the archmage nodded. “I'll think about it.” Later. The stage was empty, and the audience was about to leave when a certain nether mage shimmered into view. “Just in time,” he muttered to himself. Standing next to the microphone, he concentrated on the voice he'd used to command his armies once – soft as always, but somehow able to be heard for a long distance. “As some of you know, I go by the name Venefyxatu. A friend of mine suggested that I sign up for this, and here I am. While I don't have much experience with ... breathing creatures, I am fairly sure that the right person could enjoy themselves on a ... date, is the word? With me...” With a slight bow, the archmage shimmered out of view again.

Tom, seeing the stage empty for a moment, hopped up, still hidden in his cloak. He ran up to the microphone and, same as last round, managed to get it to his own height by jumping up and hanging from it until it slid low enough. "Right. Are you people and cats and gryphons and wolves and lizards and whatnots actually serious? You want to see a cauliflower in swimwear?" A cheerful "Yes!" came from the audience. "So you actually want me here?" Another cheerful "Yes!", this time a little louder. "So should I step away right now because some terrorist organization threatens to use suicide tomatoes during my appearance here?" The crowd, by now almost exctatic, gladly cheered a "NO!". One farmer even shook his pitchfork high in the air and yelled, "Let 'em come, I'm ready for 'em!" Unfortunately, the only suicide tomato that had actually decided to show up chose that very moment to launch itself from a tomato-sized catapult and splattered itself to pieces on the back of the farmer's head. With a loud "yech!", the latter took out his handkerchief and started wiping the dripping, red stuff off his head. Tom, feeling a little nervous because he hadn't expected any of the suicide-tomatoes to show up, decided to try and not let it show. "Alright then! In defiance of traditional cauliflower swimming habits, that is to say naked in boiling water, I come to you in typical, human swimwear!" While the audience cheered, he threw off his cloak with a flourish to reveal a bright red bikini, perfectly fitting his round shape. While the audience was busy laughing, Tom quickly ran off stage with a last cheerful wave towards a certain cute carrot.

Stephen sat quietly enjoying a cigarette, his hair back in its regular tail (this time without any suspicious strands woven into it) when he heard the soft padding of wolf paws approaching him. Suddenly the smoke he exhaled seemed to float in the direction of the sound, causing the wolf to sneeze a few times. With a satisfied smile, he took another pull from his cigarette. :: I am absolutely not in the mood for this, Stephen. :: :: What's wrong? :: The growl he received as an answer told him it might not be a very good idea to continue this line of conversation. :: I hope you'll be in a better mood for the last round of the pageant though. :: Another growl, another line of conversation cut off. This time it was Tanny who started speaking again, though. :: Say, Stephen ... :: The almost too-friendly mental voice fitted the toothy grin perfectly. :: That sounds like I should be worrying ... what's on your mind? :: :: I have this wonderful idea ... I just need your signature for it. :: :: My ... signature? For an idea of yours, when you seem to be rather ... annoyed with me? :: Tanny, by now getting enthusiastic about her idea, tried to hide her mental chuckles. :: See it as the compensation for your translation services. I promise it'll be fun! :: :: Fun for me, or fun for you? :: :: Stephen! :: With a chuckle, Stephen agreed. She did seem to be genuinely enthusiastic ... Later ... :: You signed me up for what? :: :: You heard me ... :: For a few moments, Stephen was quiet, at a complete loss for words. Then he started chuckling. :: So people are actually supposed to bid money for a date with me? Tell you what, Wolf-Lady ... if anyone bids more than 1 geld on me without your interference I'll publicly apologize for those slip-ups you keep insisting I made during translations.:: If only he'd seen her toothy grin ... Much later ... With a nervous cough, Stephen went up to the microphone. “Hi, I'm Stephen Hascodem.” He was about to turn away again when he felt a mental nudge. :: You're not even trying! :: Sighing softly, he turned back to the microphone and kept his eyes fixed on a point straight ahead of him that he'd never see. “Right. I'm here to ... uhh ... for about the same reason as about all the other guys I think. Which is ... err ... ::Finding a nice lady for an unforgettable date with you, Stephen...:: “... finding a nice lady for an unforgettable date with me, Stephen.” With a frown he added, under his breath, “an unforgettable, wolfless date.” Tanny grinned, but sent a soothing thread with her next thought. :: I promise that no wolf will come into this, dear friend. I survived the Pageant so far, and you will survive and enjoy this date. Why don't you say samething about yourself? I know many of your qualities, but the ladies here probably don't. :: At those words, some of his uncertainty faded away but there was still a great deal left. “As you may know I'm blind, but that doesn't stop me from being very much at home in forests, hills, and generally away from what's often called civilization. My reflexes are pretty good, so if you stumble and fall I'll probably catch you.” :: Don't leave out protective. :: “I also tend to do my best to protect whoever's with me, so theoretically nothing bad should happen to you.” :: Go on. Witty, fun ... I'm not going to keep flattering you, you know. :: Tanny's mental grin matched Stephen's as he continued. “Oh, and I'll also make witty remarks about ... ehh, for you.” With a sigh, Tanny rolled her eyes. :: Stephen, I'm starting to think you don't want a date... you can certainly add something more... how about caring, and considerate? :: “And, uhh ... caring and considerate, too.” Tanny nodded, satisfied. “That's about it, I think. Happy bidding?” His last sentence sounded like a question, and he almost seemed to be hurrying to get off the stage ... Tanny smiled, falling in pace with Stephen as he half-ran out of sight. Quietly, she nudged and wove a strand around the energy-form of Stephen she could always feel entwined in the earth strands near him. As a result, almost without noticing it Stephen felt his tension draining out, and soon relaxed his pace and started wondering where this would lead ... Important OOC notes : - Thank you Tanny for the help with writing this! - Just to make it clear : this means in no way that Stephen is already "taken". In fact, Tanny has agreed not to bid on him. Or on Venefyxatu. - Edited for tenses ... classic!

Patham had barely left the stage when the by now familiar cloaked figure hopped up the stairs. It gave him an encouraging thumbs up, then rushed to the front of the stage again. There he stood for a moment, surveying the crowd, completely quiet until the audience had gone silent as well. Then he hopped up and down a few times to gain altitude, and suddenly jumped up on the microphone. With a sound that sounded almost eerie in the silence, it slid down to a for him comfortable level. "I'm going to have to do something for the Pen after this? Only after this? Because, you see, I was already half planning on starting it today ... " With a cough, he continued. "As you all know, I'm a member of the VLF - the Vegetable Liberation Front. Now I have seen in these halls many vegetables being oppressed, butchered for eating pleasures. NO MORE, I SAY! The VLF shall have a chapter here, and together we shall work to bring freedom to these poor enslaved veggies!" Having said that, Tom struck an incredibly complicated pose that was presumably something like a secret handshake and roared, VEGGIE POWER!! Then he skipped off backstage again.

Cuban Commerce Collapses! I might regret this on the sleepless nights I may have to spend, but ... dibs on the horoscope lady! Good luck!

Stumpy had barely left the stage when a swelling noise can be heard. As it gets closer, some of the more perceptive judges and members of the audience think they can make out what the noise is - a drawn-out "waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit!" As Tom screeches to a halt in the middle of the stage, various light objects like sticks, stones, cattle, sheep and a very confused farmer that were pulled in his wake crash to the ground, and those that are able to move themselves walk away, mooing, bleating or muttering to themselves. "I'm not too late, am I? I mean, I'm still on time to show my talent, right? Even though I didn't really have the time to prepare, 'cause, you see, I was busy. There was a massive burning of tomatoes planned, and me an' the guys had to be there to stop them. I'm pleased to announce that we saved 'em, even though I was still half-asleep. Oh, I'd also like to take this opportunity to thank Apaltra for her care last round." With these words, Tom turns around, hops up and down on the stage a few times in an attempt to look backstage to get a glimpse of Apaltra. Not seeing her due to his inability to jump high enough to look over the curtains, he gives up and waves in the general direction "back-stage". Then he turns back to the audience. "Right. I'd planned a lot of stuff for this, but due to lack of time I'll just stick to showing you my l337 w34p0n sk1lLz0rz!" While everyone is trying to figure out what the little guy just said, Tom reaches his hands into his cloak to check whether everything is in place, takes a deep breath, and a few steps towards the edge of the stage. "Now don't worry - I'm not going to hurt anyone, no matter how dangerous it might look. I know what I'm doing, so please, do not panic!" Having said that, Tom reaches into his cloak, and pulls out what seems to be the contents of a medium-sized weapon depot. In his right hand he holds two miniguns, seven Desert Eagles, a flamethrower, a couple of AK-47s, something that looks like a minor nuclear bomb, and a shotgun. His left hand seems to be holding a rocket launcher, an experimental railgun, more grenades than you can shake a stick at, three more shotguns, a couple of MP-5s, and something that looks like a futuristic plasma weapon. The interesting thing, though, is that every single one of these weapons is finished with one of those red plastic caps you see on children's toys, and although the painting is pretty good, it is clear that most of the weapons are made from plastic. With a last mean look (which nobody sees because it's hidden in his hood) Tom puts the weapons away as quickly as he took them, bows to the audience and the judges, and hops off the stage.

Right before Wyvern is launched into the air, a voice can be heard calling out behind the stage. “Oh WOW man! You mean I get to go after the infamous Wyvern?” With a snap of his stick-figure fingers Tom turns a smooth circle and dips his hat over one eye. He checks his suit one last time, adjusts the golden chain around his neck a little bit and prepares to climb the stairs to the stage. When he hears Mynx screaming that Wyvern is on fire, Tom doesn't waste a second. He grabs a bucket of water that was conveniently placed behind the stage, rushes on and dumps it all over Wyvern and Mynx. When he sees her spluttering to say something, he quickly says, “Don't mention it – I'll occupy the crowd while you guys sort this mess out” and turns to the crowd. “Dance hall days” by Wang Chung starts playing, a bit later than anticipated, but Tom uses the intro to get to the front of the stage where everyone can get a good look at him. His cauliflower-body is stuffed into a white suit with a purple shirt underneath, and he's wearing a fat golden chain around his neck. The wide-brimmed round hat on his head is slightly out of place, but when he notices a cute carrot somewhere in the audience he takes it off and spins it on his finger. “Hey there baby!” With a wink towards her, he throws the hat over the crowd as though it were a frisbee and starts talking to the audience. “While the judges are busy removing the Great Wyvern, they've asked me to entertain you for a moment.” When another wink towards the carrot is met with a cold stare, Tom's eyes suddenly become huge and tear-filled. He plops down on the stage and starts crying, making his typical “waaahhh”-sound. So much for Tom's formal wear ...

I'm glad to hear everything's under control - get well soon!

Karen, identified by the yellow, orange and red gems in her hair, moved through the crowd, nodding politely at some acquaintances, smiling at a few friends, and generally tried to pick up as many bits of conversation as she could. When she was approached by Choseyre she had to chuckle at her remark. "Yes, that would definitely rule some people out. And a good thing it is, too ..." The kept talking softly for a little while longer, moving through the crowd so nobody would hear more than a few words of their conversation. When Choseyre left to talk to someone else, Karen didn't stay much longer - several people had left already, and it wouldn't be considered strange if she left. Quietly she left the room, hardly noticed ...

Tom hopped up on Stumpy's topside and bent over to look at him upside-down. "Awww, c'mon, it can't be that bad! At least you're in a beauty pageant, which is more than any other treestump, or even any other complete tree can say!" Stumpy grumbled something and tried to shake Tom off, but the latter clung tight. "Hey, I know! Let's be friends!" Excitedly, Tom hopped off Stumpy and started bouncing around him in circles ...

Tom had been watching the other contestants and decided to make a spectacular appearance. With a loud voice, he yelled from behind the curtain, "Ladies and gentlemen ... here he is ... the one, the ONLY ... TOM ATOE!!! He ran onto the stage, waving and bowing as the crowd cheered (in his mind at the very least, which was good enough for him) and stopped in front of the microphone. His arms couldn't even reach halfway, and the way he was looking up at it and stretching his arms produced some laughter from the audience. Giving up, he gave the thing a kick, causing it to fall over and send a loud BANG through the speakers. He waited for a few moments to give everyone a chance to recover their hearing ability, then started speaking with his squeaky voice. "Greetings honorable judges, and a big hello to all the gentlemen and the pretty ladies out there in the crowd! And to the ugly ladies too!" A shoe was thrown from somewhere in the crowd, but he quickly sidestepped it and continued. "As all of you undoubtedly know, my name is Tom Atoe and I am a vegetable. What you don't know is that I am not, I repeat NOT a tomato! I mean, c'mon, have you ever seen a tomato in a beauty pageant? Or, heaven forbid, in swimwear?? I saw it once, but ... " Tom shivers at the memory before continuing. "Of course you haven't, because normal tomatoes don't do that stuff! Hah! No, the person you're looking at here, one of the most prominent members of the VLF, the Vegetable Liberation Front, that being me, is a ... a ... CAULIFLOWER!!" The thought that he might have to mention that the VLF consists of him and only him doesn't even surface in Tom's mind as he opens his cloak and shows off his cauliflower body, including stick-figure legs to support him. As the crowd goes wild (or at least the crowd in his mind does), Tom closes his cloak again and runs off the stage with a cheerful wave.

~Physical Description~ Stephen wouldn't really stand out in a crowd : he's not particularly short or tall, nor very bulky or thin. Even though he spends most of his time in forests, he manages to look well-kempt and cleanly shaven. His grey eyes are surrounded with scar tissue that indicates something went wrong once. His dark brown hair usually hangs down his back in a long tail. He prefers clothes in shades of green and brown, and wears a lightgrey cloak.

The "Go left, useless jabbering piece of meat... and let your Commander deal with this!" Grashk grinned, handling his weapons of choice with the pride of a recognized great fighter. Sounds of batlle filled his mind, and his eyes glinted as battlelust started to possess him. A sudden clang of metal and a dull pain on his back made him gasp in suprise, and he turned to face his attacker. “Well, Grashk? Did you scrub those pots yet?” She glares at him, patting the roller pin. “Ngaria! I told you a thousand times already! I'm not your kitchen slave, I'm a Ca...” “Then why don't you stop dreaming and work, sweetie? They're not going to scrub themselves you know.” “I ...” “NOW!” With a sound that, from a safe distance, could be called a whimper, Grashk hurried to show great concentration on scrubbing the pots, muttering to himself. “What was that sweetie?” “Uhh ... nothing, nothing!” With a satisfied nod, Ngaria turned back to her pet wolf and resumed patting its head. “Tuttuttut... I wouldn't ride you, would I cutesy-pie? Nooo, I wouldn't, and I won't let mean Grashk ride you either, you know that, don't you cootchie-coo?” In the kitchen, Grashk could hear her cooing and gnashed his teeth together. “Sweetie! Spotty needs his daily brushing!” Muttering to himself under his breath, Grashk stopped scrubbing, picked up the brush and returned to Spotty and Ngaria. When he started putting on his armor, Ngaria interrupted him. “Now sweetie, you know how Spotty hates waiting, there's no time for that sillyness!” Spotty gave an almost pathetic-sounding whimper at Ngaria, and looked at Grashk with a glint of hunger, growling low and showing his sharp fangs. Grashk gulped, looking at Ngaria. "Oohh, look how cute! He wants to play!” As soon as Grashk knelt down with brush in hands, Spotty lunged at him. The two Shamans sat together in Kahr's tent, Bralak eyeing Zadoor suspiciously from time to time. The snake seemed to flick its tongue at him every time, but Bralak was determined not to let this distract him and concentrated on what Kahr was saying. “So you see, Shaman Bralak, rather than having our tribes fight each other, we should unite – you've seen for yourself how much more order there was in the ranks when ... we were commanding them together.” Bralak could already picture the combined army marching to victory after victory under his skillful leadership. And that of Kahr, of course. With a wicked grin, he answered. “Yes – we'd have the only real Orc army at m ... our command – we'd be as good as invincible.” Kahr smiled. Even though Bralak seemed to agree with her plan, she realized that he'd try to get rid of her as soon as he felt comfortable commanding the two united tribes. That would take some time though – time she'd be using to convince him he needed her. And she needed him, too; in spite of, or maybe because of, his lack of intelligence he had this brute authority that seemed to make the Orcs more ferocious in battle than anything else. The future was looking good for all of them ... Meanwhile, Grashk had found a few minutes to himself. He stood nursing his bandaged hand in a small room, mumbling to himself. “So the Shamans think they'll be safe from harm when they unite? They're fools, both of them! I could lead the tribes far better than they ever could, and I will, too ... with the help of that Lemonoaid I'll vanquish them easily ...” With a broad grin that was only slightly ruined by a stabbing pain coming from his hand, Grashk stared at the jug in front of him. The jug of Almost Dragonic Brand Semi-Sweet Lemonoaid. It seemed to have started bubbling, and it was glowing, too - glowing a sinister green ... End

I wonder whether that plane ever flew over Gizeh ...

Shoot - what about prehistoric Earth?

Venefyxatu ships some tea for Black to Guildford, UK.

A little bit further I think ... Pnom Penh, Cambodia would be my guess

I find myself in a city with mountains on three sides and the Saronic Gulf to the south-west. Once it was a city-state, and most of the Western-European culture originated here. Recently, a new airport was constructed, as well as a highly improved public transportation system and several new museums. The city proper has 750.001 inhabitants, but including the suburbs there are 3.7 million of them trying to fit into a city that can't really hold such great masses. I'm never counting that many people again, but hey, a guy has to do something while he's starving, right? Several ancient places of worship are visible from where I'm standing, but unfortunately the heavy pollution is having negative effects on them and other beautiful buildings both ancient and modern. One of those buildings is a stadium that can hold about 60.000 people and which is built entirely out of white marble. Gahh, I'm starting to have trouble breathing ... the heat combined with the polluted air I'm breathing *gasp* are starting to affect *gurgle* me *cough* ... get *gloup* me out *wheeze* of here *choke* or bury mmmm........

OOC : This is a QQ post, written in collaboration with Sweetcherrie. Funfunfun! Eating candy, Sweet walked over the Carnival. It was becoming more and more fun, as more booths appeared. She had just stuck another sweet in her mouth (with a lot of E-numbers) when she saw a camel. The child almost chocked in her candy as she bounced over to see the animal from up close. Never before had she seen something like this in real life, sure she’d seen them on pictures, but a real camel was an entirely different thing. She ran over, and was already trying to climb on top of it when she heard a voice behind her. "Greetings little girl." When she turned around, she stared for a moment - both his robes and his turban were purple, and he was really tall. "My name is Achib el Assis Ibn Moussif El Rasjid," he said with a bow. "And what might your name be?" Sweet loved the colour of his clothes, and she marvelled at the way he pronounced his words. “Hello mister…” The child struggled to get the name out right, but her tongue broke over the words, “Can I call you mister hasjiesh?” With a slightly amazed chuckle, Achib responded, "I guess so - but what should I call you then?" Sweet grins, “I’m Sweet mister, Is this your camel? Can I ride it? What doe he eat? Doe he really have water in those bumpy things? and..” The girl had obviously had too many candy, and while she kept talking she walked around the camel and the Arab. While Achib was trying to answer her first question, he was flooded with more and more questions and decided to give up. When she stopped for breath, he managed to get a few words in. "Sweet? I have heard your name before ... have you ever been to Hamaij'Oewait?" Stopping dead in her tracks she looked at the hasjiesh mister with her mouth open. “Whatchacallthat?” "Hamaij'Oewait is my countery. But, oh, I think I already know where I've seen your name before ..." Her ears were still buzzing with all the funny words she just heard, but this didn’t stop a hyperactive Sweet. On the contrary, it only made her want more answers. She started walking around the camel again, and stuck out her hand to touch it, she just had to. In the meantime she went back to asking questions. “So they have a Sweet and Camels in Ohmywife?” "I do not know about a Sweet, but we sure do have camels in Hamaij'Oewait. There is even a place near my shop called the Angry Camel where they sell camels. They are good animals for carrying stuff." While he was speaking, Achib was wondering whether he'd dare take the risk to let the hyperactive child into his tent, but made up his mind : she was a customer, and she deserved to be treated like one. "But I saw your name on the list - didn't you sign up for a book?" The word book made her look at the Arab. Sweet loved books, especially the ones that had magical stories in them. However, she’d thought she had signed something with Venefixmetoo, and didn’t realise that it was Achib that delivered the actual books. She looked at him suspiciously. “How do you know? Do you do magic as well?” "Well yes, I do some magic - but I mostly trade. But you signed up to buy one of my very very special books, so you must want one. Come, I will show you." He moved to stand beside the entrance to his tent, and held open the flap for her. "After you, young lady." Hesitantly she moved inside the tent. You never knew you heard so much weird stuff lately, but the idea of books, and magic was too attractive for her to let it pass, so she stepped inside the shadowed tent. Inside, she was amazed to see how much was stuffed in the seemingly-small tent. There were at least four different carpets lying across each other on the floor. She was quiet for a few moments as she took in the piles of items lying around, but what really caught her attention was a wooden board with a whole lot of nails sticking out of it, lying next to something she couldn't name. When Achib entered the tent, he went to sit cross-legged on the nailbed and invited her to sit on one of the carpets. "Would you like to smoke some of the waterpipe?" Sweet’s eyes grew big. Had this man just offered her to smoke? She thought he had. But he couldn’t have. Could he not see she was a kid? Maybe he was blind. Maybe she should take advantage of this. Her thoughts raced all over the place, and before she could think to be a good girl, she nodded and flopped down next to the Arab. Achib, not realizing that it was strange for children to smoke in this country, gave her one of the mouth pieces of his waterpipe. Taking a puff of his own mouth piece, he asked her what kind of books she liked to read. Inhaling deeply she tasted the apple and honey, but when the smoke reached her longs she felt something itching, and started coughing uncontrollably. She tried to get up to get some fresh air outside the tent, and stumbled over the waterpipe. It fell over and as the water spilled over the Arabs feet, glowing coals fell on one of the rugs. Sweet just tripped, and fell on the soft layer of carpets, and kept coughing. She looked around for something to drink, and saw a weird shaped bottle in a corner. She stumbled over, but it was wine, and with discust she spit it out again….in the direction of the glowing coals. The first thing Achib did when things started going wrong was trying to salvage his water pipe. He managed to get it upright again, but as he started to douse the flames, Sweet spit the "wine" over them. With everything in his tent being magical, Achib quickly retreated; wondering what would happen and was amazed at the sight: the flames died away, and instead, the carpet that had been hit by the wine started glowing a very soft blue, rather adding to the atmosphere. Sweet herself, having had some of the "wine" in her mouth, also started glowing blue, but the still coughing girl didn't realize it immediately. Sweet wiped her mouth clean with her sweater, and saw that her sleeve turned glowing blue. She almost forgot about the taste in her mouth, but then tasted the foul wine again, and looked up from her sleeve at the Arab. “Do you happen to have some water mister hasjiesh?” His heartbeat was slowing down again, and he reached behind him for one of his waterskins. "But of course - please try not to set the tent on fire again though ... it is bad for business is everything burns up." As he gave her the waterskin and lit his waterpipe again, he decided not to offer her again... she didn't seem used to it. After almost having emptied the waterskin, Sweet sat down again. “So do I now get my book?” "I first need to know what you like to read ... so I can give you a special one, just for you." This question set her thinking, and for the first time since she had met the Arab, she was silent. After about ten minutes or so she finally spoke. “I like dragons, but the real ones, not like Wyvern, and I like magic, lots of it.” "Ahhh, then I think I have juuust the book for you. It will change itself a bit when you read it, so it will become a story you really really really like very very very much. And it already has real dragons and magic in it, too!" With these words, Achib reached behind him in one of the bags, and felt around for a particular book. When he took it out, he handed it over to Sweet really carefully so she could have a look at it. The cover was a very soft kind of plushy blue, and had a dragon's head engraved into it in silver linings. "Beautiful, isn't it?" Breathless she nodded, and wanted to grab the book. As she took the book from his hands, she felt its heavy weight and put it in her lap. Carefully she opened the cover to reveal the title written in a heavy, gothic font: "Quest of the Wizard." When she looked up at Achib, the latter nodded, "And it's only 1000 gold, too." Disappointed, Sweet blinked a few times. "1000? That's too much for me!" She started to get up, but Achib stopped her. "The fun part about doing business in my countery is that you do not just accept the price, but try to get it as low as you can." Sweet sat down again with a big grin. "So I get to argue with you?" Somewhat uncertain, Achib nodded. "I guess you could call it that, yes." She beamed at him and they started haggling. Achib, never having haggled with a child before, found himself agreeing to give her the book for free and throwing in a ride on his camel, too.

Interesting stories here - and fun to see how many names originated thanks to ArchMage! Venefyxatu dates back a little bit before Archmage. I'd found a few boxes with a PnP roleplaying game that my parents used to play (before I was born ) called Oog des Meesters (the original name is Das Schwarze Auge, apparently the English version is called The Black Eye) and I wanted to try and create a character. Wizards looked interesting, and even then I had a fascination for vampires, undead, necromancy, ... With the help of a Dutch - Latin dictionary I figured out that the Latin word for magic is 'veneficium' (if I remember correctly ). I don't like just using a word, so I decided to change it a bit ... change the ending to that of Nosferatu, which gave me Veneficatu. Nope, not good enough ... it needs a different sound where the c is. Maybe an s-sound ... and use a 'k' instead of the 'c'. Venefiksatu. Yeah, I like the sound of that! The character was born, but unfortunately never played. I still have him lying around though After a while I brought him to the Yahoo RPG rooms, but changed the spelling a bit - 'yx' looks more interesting than 'iks', so Venefyxatu was born. The longer I played him, the better I started liking the name until I started using it as my own nickname. I'm still using it, as you no doubt have noticed , and am immensely proud to be the only one using that name.

While waiting for the first Pennite to arrive, Achib peeked out of his tent to have a look around. There were several booths popping up, activities were being organised and colourful wagons were nicely arranged. Suddenly a thought seemed to strike him and with a broad grin he vanished inside his tent again. A few moments later he came out again with a small pot and a brush. Bending in front of the sign, he started applying the brush first to the pot, and then to the sign itself. Not much later he stood back, surveyed his work and entered his tent again with a broad grin, ready for the first customer. The sign now read : Achib's Magickel bo0k Shoppe. Now open. Act Quicke! Magickel aitems for salee! Spesiel Carnival offers! Quick OOC update : carnival shoppers get 10 geld for participating.