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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

Carnival Swap Meet


Wyvern

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Wyvern strikes a plank in the sand and observes the beach area before him. A coral reef shimmers under the rays of the setting sun, visible courteousy of a peaceful low tide. Small oceanic creatures crawl between coral crevices, and the sunset paints a beautiful palet of colors in the sky.

 

"Alright, move'em over here."

 

Bravery frowns and glances at Wyvern.

 

"Are you sure? I looks so-"

 

"We ain't gonna risk setting up an activity booth near the water." Wyvern casts a fearful glance at the tides and lets out a low hiss. "And the corals'll be a nice decoration. We're talking about valuable items here, after all."

 

Bravery sighs.

 

"Fine, fine... just set up the booth. I'll bring some corals."

 

Wyvern nods, then scurries away from the beauitful scene and makes his way to a more crowded area of the carnival. Appetizing smells from Rydia's hibachi stand wift about the area, and a few evening fishers sit around another nearby booth. Wyvern seats himself at a wooden table with a large circular area surrounding it, and plants a sign into the ground. It reads:

 

Mighty Pen Carnival Swap Meet

Traid yer stuff!

 

The lizard taps the sign with a claw to make sure that it's stable, then begins placing items on the table. He puts a folder labeled "Devil's Advocate" at the center, scrawlng the phrase "won page misssing" on a connected sticky note. Beside the folder he places the Ring of Wondrous Hallucinations, which he tags with a small sign "Haunted - free of charge!" The lizard places one of his seven remaining shiney swiftness potions on a little stand next to the ring, then tops his table off with a coiled scarf tagged "Prevents cold and disasterous spells!"

 

Having completed his line-up of tradable items, the reptilian Elder twiddles his claws and waits. He scratches his chin after a moment, then scrawls an additional tag next to his table:

 

Also wiling too negoshiate for large sums of pies. Inkuire within! (pies from Quincunx do not apply)

 

OOC: This is a Carnival booth where pennites can exchange valuable items amongst themselves. All deals and trades must have a consensus from both parties trading items. People are encouraged to set up tables of items they're willing to trade and propose bargains to one another, though some less RPing-oriented negotiating might be best reserved to PMs. Anyhow, have fun, and lemme know if you're interested in making some bargains. ;-)

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"aaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh....

 

Wyvern."

 

Knight strode up to the booth, and sat down next to the almost draconic one.

 

"How are ya?"

 

Wyvern looked at him carefully.... Knight had the old gleam in his eye.

 

 

"Sooooooooo.... Who do you think might want this?"

 

Quickly, he unslung the strange object strapped to his back- It appeared very bazooka-esque, except the foreend- (it had to be the fore-end, the pistol-grip and trigger located about halfway down its six foot length pointed towards it) ended in six, largish barrels, with what appeared a rotating mechanism that allowed the barrels to be fired two at a time...

 

Wyvern looked at him quite frightfully- he had to know what it was.

 

For indeed, it was the legendary, most feared weapon-

 

The AARKaSL.

 

 

The Automatic Alternating Repeating Kendricke and Scorn Launcher was a weapon created in the ye olde yesteryears of Terra past. It would be more accurate to describe it as a cloning engine- it was powered by technology long lost, and contained a micro-fusion drive, and a spiffy little supercomputer that would make even the most powerful Japanese models envious. And for a good reason.. It had to control the genetic replication of several hundred Kendrickes and Scorns a second, and forced their extremely quick maturation into the adult form of the individuals in question- the two were the complete opposites of one another, and it was said that if they ever actually contacted one another- a resultant matter, anti-matter explosion would take place. Hence the heavy weight, and lead shielding installed around the cloning drive. Knight had used it many times before, and it was fortunate to note that the ammunition never actually fought- they were too... 'intellectual' if you will, but the ensuing babble and psychobabble, and flaming and flamewarring was usually sufficient to drive a target mad. Like all things uber-potent, the Kendrickes and Scorns had an extremely short half-life, and quickly died off, much to the relief of its bearer, and those who were responsible for ammunition clean up. (You think I'd actually try to clean that mess up?)

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  • 2 weeks later...

Patham, carrying three wooden boards and a sack walks past Wyvern. He drops the boards to the floor, and gently places the sack next to them. Then he picks out a flat spot in the sand and thrust two of the planks vertically in the sand, then placing the third on top of them. He checks to see whether it is stable enough, and then opens the sack. He gently starts placing items on the makeshift table. On one side he places the numerous Almost Draconic Brand ™ gifts he has received from Wyvern with small paper tags strapped to them detailing what the items were good for.

 

Almost Dragonic Brand Reverse Owl Eyeglasses. ™

 

Can correct certain very bad eyesight problems.

 

Almost Dragonic Brand Non-Authentic Meditative Torch Device™

 

Creates white or black or grey clouds for meditation. Colours come at random.

 

Almost Dragonic Brand Forest Stealth Camoflauge Outfit™

 

Can camouflage an owl-sized creature, but hinders flying. Recommended for non-flying owl-sized creatures.

 

Almost Dragonic Brand Semi-Professional Zombie Ward™

 

Makes zombies hesitate before lunging at you. Perfect if you want to gain a few fractions of a second.

 

Almost Dragonic Brand Instinct-O-Meter™

 

Wyvern said about this: it's like the ouija board of choosing animal instincts.

 

Almost Dragonic Brand Table O Elements™

 

Water ommited.

 

One page from the Almost Dragonic Brand Stega-Thesaurus ™

 

On one side showing the picture of a Dragon flying over a lakeside town, with the phrase "Dragon flies over lakeside town" written under it, and on the other side various quite strange explanations for words from Dork to Dragoness.

 

Then next to the rather large pile of Almost Dragonic Brand ™ stuff Patham placed another item. A small rock. There was no description next to it, but clearly it was special. More special than the heap of Almost Dragonic Brand ™ stuff anyway. On a scrap of paper Patham scribbled:

 

Not necessarily for trade

 

and placed the paper next to the rock.

 

He then turned to look at what others had placed at the item swap.

Edited by Patrick Durham
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This isn't mine, just a "mysterious figure, shrouded in mystery" for whom I will post.

 

The Cursed Sockpuppet of Unholy Corruption, Eternal Damnation and Doom

 

Origin: Knitted by Blind Satanic Grannies from a blend of Evil Cotton, grown in the 7th Circle of Hell, and the Fleece of Infamy, shawn from the sheep of the Flock of Baal, who feed upon the soul-nourished Grasses of Abaddon. The eyes are the fabled Gemstones of Tarnished Soul, thought to be destroyed milennia ago during the Banishment of Lucifer and the rest of the Fallen from the Heavens, now fused, thanks to the heat from the Lavapits of Pandemonium, to The Cursed Sockpuppet of Unholy Corruption, Eternal Damnation and Doom, sometimes known to mortals as Satan's Stocking. So, as you can tell, this sockpuppet is quite, quite evil.

 

History: Shrouded in mystery, the Sockpuppet has been known to influence the development of some of the more corrupt historical figures who were known to carry out atrocities in the name of any higher power you care to name. It is known to reside on the dominant hand, communicating through some unknown, quite possibly Terrorpathy, guiding their hand, so to speak. But when the tides turn on the would-be world conqueror and the forces of Light move in for the kill, they always arrive to find the dictator either dead or barely alive, with a bloody stump where his/her hand used to be. The hand itself is usually found, stripped of flesh, in the middle of a pentagram somewhere nearby, giving rise to the theory of reprobate retreat, whereby the sock runs back to Hell as soon as the jig is up.

 

Powers: The Cursed Sockpuppet of Unholy Corruption, Eternal Damnation and Doom has the power to possess by preying on the childish streak all corrupt, maelevolent and psychotic dictators, monarchs and presidents seem to possess. Once the victim slips his hand into the Sockpuppet, it comes to life, talking to them, reassuring them that their sinful ways are indeed the wave of the future and how their secret past of childkilling and necrophilia is perfectly normal, gradually leading them on a path that usually ends with some kind of war as soon as the Heavens get wind of the whole socky situation.

 

Although no instances of any further powers have ever been recorded, the Gemstones of Tarnished Souls, which serve as the Sockpuppet's eyes, are able to corrupt anyone who gazes into them, enabling the Sockpuppet to turn any advisors and assistants from would-be amputators to mindless minions, thus preventing that outside chance of someone getting wise to the latest addition in their lord and master's wardrobe coinciding with his sudden bloody thirst for the blood of innocent virgins and sneak into his bedchamber with the Royal Meat Cleaver.

 

Finally, when encountered away from the hand that it feeds upon, the Sockpuppet is able to breathe fire. Nothing fancy, just a simple stream of searing agony to frighten the kiddies and prevent those accursed doogooders from attempting sockacide. Though it usually teleports back to the safety of Satan's Sockdrawer long before this becomes necessary

 

Appearence: A long black sock, elbowlength, with two gray gems for eyes. For reasosn unknown, there is a gray patch on the heel. Not quite as evil as the Sock itself, but it was darned by the Seamstress of Execrable Woe, the only tailor Beelzebub trusts with his Diabolical Wardrobe of Impiety, so this alone makes up for its natural Evil shortcomings.

Do I hear 10 geld?

 

(PS, Patrick, I'll give you 5 geld for the Torch Device, and what's a ouiji-board of choosing animal instincts?)

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Wyvern prances through the swap meet grounds and sniffs at the various items as Bravery continues to transport coral decorations to the area. The lizard pauses at Patham's booth, and grins at the assortment of items on display.

 

"What a wonderful line-up of high-quality, cheap-yet-efficient, Almost Dragonic-endorsed items you have here, Mr. Patham." Wyvern slides his claws along the booth, tapping the Almost Dragonic Brand Instinct-O-Meter™ by accident and sending it into a whirl. "What a day to forget my Almost Dragonic Brand Tincan Fabricated Cancorder™... Do ya realize that, just by sitting here with these items in front of you, you've probably made several industry blacklistsss?"

 

Patham's eyes widen upon hearing this, and Wyvern gives him a cheerful smile and a pat on the back. The lizard pauses upon noticing the rock resting beside the other items, and reaches down to examine it.

 

"Hmmm, don't recall making one of the-EEOW!" Wyvern drops the rock back into place and blows on his claw furiously. "Yeesh, that thing's a little too hot for comfort. What's it made out of? Hydra droppings? Pheonix gall? Pics from Beauty Pageant Round Five?"

 

Patham smirks and shakes his head at Wyvern's guesses.

 

"It's simply magical, Wyvern. I guess we'll never know."

 

Wyvern sighs and nods to this, then gives Patham a quick salute and heads off to a different area of the swap meet. He stops upon revisiting Knight's AARKaSL, and stares at the giant cannon for a long moment in silence.

 

"Hey!" cries Knight as he notices Bravery attaching corals to the large weapon. "That's an item for sale, not some metal bench! Get outta here!"

 

"Hmmm, y'know Knight." Knight's eyes turn from the frightened Dwarf to Wyvern. The overgrown lizard rubs a claw over his scaly chin. "I jussst might be interested in trading for this machine of yours. Anything I can offer you for it?"

 

Wyvern waves a claw to his booth, and Knight wanders over to inspect. He eyes the Ring of Wondrous Hallucinations and the Swiftness Potion curiously, then rubs his hands over the Scarf of Disasterous Spell Prevention. He holds the Scarf up to the light to inspect it, then places it around his neck.

 

"Ohhhhh, it fitsss you to a T." Wyvern grins and squares his claws. "Must've been designed for archangels. It's a most handy utility, though I don't practice magic much myself."

 

Wyvern notices Katzaniel acting as messenger out the corner of his eye, and pauses as he views the item being offered.

 

"Tell me when you're ready to trade, Knight." Wyvern grins in his direction. "I'll be right back."

 

"C'mon, surely somebody has 10 geld they'd be willing to part with?" Katzaniel waves a hand at the puppet. "Need I describe this unique item once more? It-"

 

"I don't think that'll be necessary, Katz." Wyvern strikes a quarter-bow. "20 earned geld for that neat-looking glove. Should someone up the ante, I'll toss in that Swiftness Potion sitting at my table as well."

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"Oh bugger it.... I kinda like this scarf. I will give ya a swap, Wyvern. My AARKaSL, for your scarf. Deal, eh?"

 

The Almost Draconic one gave a nod, and winked at him.

 

"Yessssssssssss...."

 

The tone of the yes disturbed Knight more than anything. Wyvern was never one for world conquest..... But, the AARKaSL might be an engine for it.... Oh well. Knight shrugged.

 

"Thanks, old friend."

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"Six... hum. Six. Yeah, why not? If I'm willing to pay 5, I may as well pay 6, even though I rather suspect it's worth less than either." Katz grins and hands over the cash.

 

----

 

Earlier that day, somewhere in a darkened alley, a conversation had taken place.

 

"25, his third kidney and an autographed copy of "Wyvern: The Autocratic Introspective," said the stranger in a hushed but firm tone.

 

"His third - ! Um, okay, I'll relay that," Katz had said, before giving the cloaked figure a reappraising look and making her escape.

 

----

 

"My third kidney, ehh?" hissed Wyvern. "And, more importantly, twenty-five geld?! This person bargains tough..."

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"... especially considering that he put the item up for auction himself."

 

Wyvern pales and strokes a claw over his chin as he considers the items being offered by the mysterious counter-bidder. The lizard turns towards a messy bag at his side labeled "Carnival Projekts" and urgently digs through it, his scaly visage growing more and more worried with each of the novelties he shuffles through. His face cements into a grimace as he reaches for the large tin that he was searching for.

 

"My Almost Dragonic Brand Triple-Kidney Pie™!" Wyvern sobs as he pulls the pie from it's nook, and rubs a claw over the large hole that now rests at its center. "Great, now it'll only pass as a double. That'll never stand out."

 

Wyvern tosses the ruined pie to the side and curses to himself, stomping his scaly feet on the ground. The reptilian Elder then raises a claw and exclaims:

 

"Well, I'll one-up him with 30 earned geld, this Swiftness Potion, and an exclusive unabridged set of footnotes from "Wyvern: The Autocratic Introspective," completely uneditted and uncut!"

 

Wyvern takes out a blank piece of paper from the Devil's Advocate and starts scribbling notes over it. Katzaniel nods very slowly, cringing, the juices from the double-kidney pie that had landed on her head dribbling down over her cheeks and chin.

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"Um," Katzaniel muttered.

 

Wyvern turned to her. "What?"

 

"Um, he's raised the bar again..."

 

"What!?"

 

Katzaniel pulled out a piece of paper and read from it carefully. "'Hmmm, one-upmanship, you say?'" She glanced at the almost-dragon. "This is word for word, mind you. I'm sorry, but he goes on... 'I am above the law. 35, the unabridged notes and the Tzim/Star blackmail photos of the Hampster Incident.'" A brief pause, then the tigertaur rushes on, "I'd recommend not offering any more than that. In fact, the way his eyes glowed when I told him what you'd said... I might almost wonder if lowering your bid might not work better. Anyway, up to you... it is such a wonderful, er, glove."

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"Great." Wyvern lets out a long hiss and crumples a large page full of unabridged notes in one of his claws. "And just when I needed a glove, too. I had to go and trade that Scarf, didn't I?"

 

Wyvern curses to himself and begins digging through his Carnival bag again, tossing out empty tin cans and sacks of sand left and right.

 

"Pretty gutsy of him to offer my own unabridged notes before they've been written. But I guess if he raises bars like you say he does, he's brawny enough to jussstify it."

 

Wyvern pulls out a metallic cylinder and examines it for a moment, then grins and sets it to the side.

 

"Why anyone would want pictures of Tzimfemme and Starlight feeding Guido is beyond me, even if he did eat that pair of drumstick boxer shorts by accident. Rydia and Starlight - now that might be suggestive..."

 

Wyvern takes another blank sheet of paper from the Devil's Advocate, then places it next to the metal cylinder. He turns to Katzaniel.

 

"I'm in a need of a sinister-looking glove for my upcoming cooking project, so I'll ssssimply have to follow through. 50 earned geld, a Swiftness Potion, a set of abridged notes from "Wyvern: The Autocratic Introspective" (complete with doodles of bridge escape routes), and an Almost Dragonic Brand Brute-Approved Idiot's Flashlight™ for shedding some light upon this mysterious stranger the next time you meet him in a dark alleyway."

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"...It's a done deal, old bean."

 

Katzaniel looked slightly taken aback at being called 'old bean' but regained balance quickly, only to realize the full import of the statement. She mouthed the words "Done deal?" then sprang back into form.

 

"Oh yes, of course. Good doing business with your, sir. I'll just tell Wyvern, then, and execute the actual trade for you both. Be right back..."

 

She rushed off to the Swap Meet, relieved that the bargaining had reached an end.

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  • 2 weeks later...

In her laboratory, Tzimfemme propped her elbows on the Ager Guild Book of Indisrections (open to Knight's double-page entry) and her chin in her hands, studied the wide gap in the bookshelf, and let go of the voyeuristic smile. The book was still a great conversation piece, and her most unique item (few on her side of the Ager War had the vulgarity to collect such information, and nobody on the other side had the temerity to have those professionally bound), but it wasn't significant enough to offer for the Automatic Alternating Repeating Kendricke and Scorn Launcher. She sighed at the empty spot along the wall, where the deep-freeze unit had been, and slouched into the next room to pour herself a mug from the heated dark chocolate spigot.

 

As she carried the chocolate back to the laboratory, figurines reared out of its surface, twisted together in exaggerated scenes from the book, then fell back into the mug to be replaced by others. When she looked into the mug, the figurines froze in mid-perversion, with mortified expressions on their solidified faces. Tzimfemme's eyebrows rose slightly, and she forced herself to think about Knight instead. The chocolate merged and rearranged itself into his face, but remained half-melted and blurry. "Damn," she murmured, plunking the mug onto the countertop next to the book, "this always happens with the non-AoA figurines. . ."

 

She had flipped through the remainder of K and most of L before the solution struck her. There was something worthy! Would the swapmeet take a service in exchange for goods? "I don't care," she answered herself, gulping hot chocolate in between bursts of speech. "Knight's giving away his identity. A big chunk of it, at any rate. He'll need what I have to give." She hurled the empty mug through the doorway, where it passed through a laser net before splashing down into a chemical sink, and strutted towards the main entrance to the lab. Just before the doors, she opened a shallow metal cabinet and made a quick-fingered obesiance to the figurines inside--permanent hard chocolate miniatures of notable Pennites.

 

to be continued. . .

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(Extended from PM with Knight)

 

Tzimfemme approached the booth with a block of fresh chocolate in her hands. Patham had reverted to owl form and perched on the sign, swiveling his head in all directions to spy possible customers. Knight had taken Wyvern's seat, cautiously, and wore a light scarf wrapped around his neck like a WWI flying ace. She couldn't see Wyvern some distance away, towing a smoking pie tin over to the Kissy-Wissy Snookums Pie booth, despite frantic earsignals from Rydia. The naked mage set the block onto the table, laid a fingertip atop it, and spoke to Knight. "I won't say this properly the first time. Ask questions if you have to," she began. "The AARKaSL is more than an object. When you give it away, you're giving away a part of yourself--like Brute, a bit diminished without his Decanter."

 

Knight leaned forward and watched the chocolate melt away from under Tzimfemme's roving fingertip. "He's still Brute," he disagreed.

 

"He lost something once Wyvern took his identifying object. . .this would be so much easier to explain if you hadn't been on the AoD side of things, by the way. . ." Tzimfemme drilled too deeply into the rough figure and patched the chocolate by kneading it with her thumbs. "You'll need something new to add depth to your persona. Stories. Legends. Worship."

 

"Worship?" Knight echoed. "Sweet Jesus. . ."

 

The naked mage muttered a curse. "Metaphors! I'm sorry, Knight, I've become a cleric, I talk that way--" She lifted her eyes away from the blurry sculpture and fixed them on Knight. He, in turn, had stopped watching her and was now studying the featureless replica of himself. "No metaphors, now. You frighten me, Knight, not because you have done anything frightening, but because you have no persona. You picked yourself out of--there--and implanted yourself into our world. . ."

 

"I don't see any reason why I should have a persona," replied Knight evenly. Tzimfemme's skin turned pale all over and her hands froze. "You people, even the ones of you who do distort things about yourself, are some of the very few friends I have. I feel it almost necessary to be who I am. Considering I also like who I am. . .why should I hide it?"

 

Tzimfemme's fingers convulsed around the chocolate as she listened to his stories, adding details. The muscles of the figurine's back, strong but not defined, shifted position to carry absent wings. One arm crooked and held a large bottle, suggested by cutting out the curves which would have rested against his body, and a minuscule dark chocolate dreadnought rested in the hollow. Patches on the exposed skin grew smooth, like scars, except for two cuts under the eyes which directed the chocolate miniature's gaze out towards the world. When all that had been done, the surface of the chocolate steamed like oven-fresh bread, and turned shiny. Tzimfemme tapped her fingernail on the figurine's close-cropped hair without denting it.

 

"It's solid," she murmured, "you're solid. What's more, this is something that can be shown around to other people here, it's proof, it's a witnessing. . . .Is it enough for the AARKaSL?"

 

". . .Wyvern bought it already," Knight said slowly.

 

"HE DID WHAT?"

 

"He's going over to that booth," continued Knight, pointing at the Kissy-Wissy Snookums Pie sign. Tzimfemme swiveled her head to follow the pointing, and croaked with dismay.

 

"Dear gods. . .he didn't. . .he can't. . .Knight, forgive me but I have to leave, right now," gasped the naked mage, with the last bit shouted over her shoulder as she sprinted over to the incipient disaster.

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