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Post by Morrigan Moonweaver on May 8, 2023 21:06:54 GMT -5
The streets of Thunderhoof were abuzz with activity in the early hours of the morning tribesmen from all over the country poured in from all directions, all bringing mounts of all kinds with them. From horses to exotic birds to even creatures as rare as displacer beasts, secured with blindfolds and reins to keep them secure… everyone from across Charon was chomping at the bit to compete in today’s event. The Annual Thunderhoof Tourney. This particular race drew in all sorts of folks from across the land, from young hopeful racers seeking fame and glory, to seasoned athletes who had competed countless times before. The winning prize? A solid gold trophy as big as your head, and a pot of five hundred solars. And no one was as interested in the money as the lavender-skinned fellblood currently prowling the streets, scoping out the competition. The drake that ambled behind them might have identified them as a racer, but Morrigan Moonweaver had no such inclinations to participate today. No, they had loftier goals in mind today - goals that involved the even more interesting sport that took place behind the scenes, while the race was going on… The ancient and noble art of gambling. Oh, Morrigan had plans. All they had to do was find some gullible racer to get in their pocket, then they would be able to make out with the winnings and all the earnings from the side bets going on in the background! Morrigan was going to make a fortune! All that's left to do is find the right fool - I mean, intrepid racer… Quest Name: To the Races! Participants: Two or more Location: King's Valley Post Requirements: 4 post per person, 200 words per post Reward: +1 Renown Description: One of the valley's favorite past times is racing, specifically on horse back, but any animal will do as long as it is exciting. If you want to make a name for yourself in the plains, winning a race is the best way to do that, but it is one of the hardest things to do, locals do not play fair. The quest is simple, get into a race on animal back. You don't have to win, but try your hardest, and keep an eye out, anything goes in these races. (If you do not own a mount, a donkey will be provided for you.) Bringing MinionsCeres Celestia, Witch in Training (Earth Domain Apprentice) Bringing PetsAdult Form Bubbles (Adult Drake: Counts against Pet Cap) Clawdius (Gargoyle Rook: Doesn't count against pet cap) Luna Rose (Mephit - Beastmaster: Doesn't count against pet cap)
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Post by cashmere on May 8, 2023 21:42:46 GMT -5
"Alright, Li'l Apple, it's almost time for the big show!"
The voice comes from a young boy, crouched in an obscure little spot at the side of the racetrack's temporary stables. His clothes are unbefitting of the region, and certainly unbefitting of this event: silk-seeming cloth that mimics the fashion sense of Sol City's upper class; but the most distinctive, eye-grabbing aspect of his outfit is the archetypal witch-hat atop his head, covering a head of hair that's as golden as the wheat-fields. In the ruckus of men and woman shuffling beside their mighty steeds, the boy would be easy to miss -- as would his apparent mount, a simple and modest donkey that seems just short of its prime.
"We've gotta get you ready, okay?" the boy continues as he brushes a clump of fur out of the donkey's light-grey flank, while it's chewing lackadaisically on a tuft of dried grass. Compared to any other racer, the little witch is tiny; in fact, the same can be said for the mount, who would be meek even among ponies. And yet, with a smile on his face, the boy grooms away at the donkey's fur, preparing it -- and himself -- for the grand trials ahead.
But, for just a moment, he looks out to the bustling crowd, and can't help but marvel at all the spectacular steeds that've been brought today! He spies an each tened, a tiger, a manticore, and things that he doesn't even know the names of. Among the most fantastical, one seems to have brought a towering dinosaur (one whose body shape and colour somewhat remind the boy of a pickle). It's an incredible array of contestants; all prepared, all ready, and all absolutely spectacular...
He looks back to the donkey, smile wavering. "You know, it's okay if you don't win, Li'l Apple. What matters is that you do your best, and show everyone how brave and talented you are! So don't worry, okay?"
The donkey simply continues to chew. Obviously he wouldn't understand the boy's words, if they were even meant for it.
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Post by Morrigan Moonweaver on May 8, 2023 22:07:22 GMT -5
The tiny charlatan made their way through the crowd, Bubbles ambling behind them. There was a plethora of contestants to pick from, so many colorful people. But who would be Morrigan’s scapegoat? They tapped at their chin in thought before turning back to Bubbles, where a tiny elven girl was perched on the drake’s back, practically swallowed by her forest-green cloak. “What do you think, Ceres Celestia? Do you see any competitors worthy of supporting?”
The naive mage, of course, had no idea what Morrigan’s true intentions were. It was fortunate for Morrigan that the Arcane Academy had seen fit to send them an apprentice that didn’t think twice about their excuses - she readily believed that this was an excursion to observe the different kinds of racers and magical creatures of King’s Valley, and absorb different cultures. There was no reason for her to question Morrigan’s motives, after all. The sylvan elf’s ears twitched, scanning the crowd from her perch to see if she could spot anyone worthy of Master Moonweaver’s time.
That was when she saw him - the boy in the alley.
“What about him over there?” She asked, raising her staff - which dwarfed her in size - to point at the little witch currently encouraging his donkey, tucked away from all the other racers. Morrigan followed her gaze, eyes narrowing when they spotted him. A child? Well, it would hardly be the first time Morrigan had used a kid’s naiveté to their advantage. Where other people might have been concerned about morals and ethics, Morrigan was usually more concerned with making a quick buck. Besides, it would be easy enough to convince a child to fork over the winnings. Even better - no one else would be betting for him! Morrigan just had to put all their coin on him and made sure he was the one that emerged victorious at the finish line.
Their lips split into a devious smirk before pulling something small and fuzzy out of their pocket, smacking the fake mustache on their face.[1] With a coy laugh, they twirled one of the corners of the mustache, reveling in the genius of their plan. Oh, they were going to be rich!
“Why, Ceres Celestia, I think we should go give that young man a few words of encouragement, should we not? Come, come!”
They clapped their hands together, beckoning Bubbles forward. As they got closer to the young man, they raised their voice to call out, “Hail and well met, young man! You seem to be having a little bit of trouble with your mount, there! Is there anything that I, Morrigan Moonweaver - Wizard of the Wastes - can assist you with?” 1. Mustache of Deceit
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Post by cashmere on May 8, 2023 22:47:13 GMT -5
Just as he's finessing the last bit of fluff from the donkey's side, Cashmere finds himself eclipsed by two looming shadows -- great enough that even the donkey is fully overshadowed (though it seems not to mind). And then comes the voice, a billowing voice suffused heavily with Zeinavian accent (an accent that Cashmere wouldn't be able to tell is extremely exaggerated).
“Hail and well met, young man! You seem to be having a little bit of trouble with your mount, there! Is there anything that I, Morrigan Moonweaver - Wizard of the Wastes - can assist you with?”
Cashmere's first thought is 'I do?' He wasn't aware that he was having trouble. And this starts to worry him somewhat, and part of him begins to wonder if he is having trouble. Is he doing something wrong? Is there something he's supposed to be doing? Did he miss a post when he was grooming?
But then his worries scamper away like little spiders as Cashmere turns to this approaching group, and looks up with a single golden eye to see -- a red drake! 'Startled' wouldn't do it justice; he's freaking out! He points at the great, fire-breathing reptile with a trembling finger and wavering lips.
"Uh- buh- wha- Um...!!! Mx. Wizard of the Wastes, there's a dr-drake behind you!"
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Post by Morrigan Moonweaver on May 8, 2023 23:03:43 GMT -5
In all honesty, Morrigan probably should’ve expected that approaching a random, strange kid with a dragon and a witch in tow was more likely to spook him than leave him in awe. But they were too short-sighted to consider such a thing as they made their way to the alley where the young man was cleaning and preparing his mule.
… And then the child started screaming and Morrigan remembered why they didn’t like kids that much.
“What, this?” Morrigan kept a genial smile plastered on their face, gesturing for Bubbles to bend his head down. “This is my faithful companion, Bubbles! He’s a sweet baby, really. Quite harmless. In fact, he’s probably around the same age as you! Feel free to pet him if you’d like.”
Though they wouldn’t be particularly offended if the child declined petting the ferocious-looking monster.
“But enough about the drake.” Bubbles took that as his cue to take a step back, allowing Ceres Celestia to hop off, her little feet dangling in the air for a moment before she hit the ground with a soft plop. “Young man, my apprentice and I have come to Thunderhoof Village for one reason, and one reason only - we would like to help you win this race! I’m sure it’s overwhelming being in such a new and big place… but you’re in luck! My little witch in training here and I are here to support you in winning that prize! How does that sound?”
Ceres Celestia’s cheeks turned pink as she gripped her staff. “Um… how do you do…?”
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Post by cashmere on May 27, 2023 22:14:37 GMT -5
A pet dragon.
A pet dragon?
A pet dragon...
"A PET DRAGON?!" 'Awestruck' begins to describe it, but doesn't get very far before the true and absolute amazement that rises within him, reaches the finish-line and then laps the poor, lagging descriptor. Never before has Cashmere heard something so utterly fantastical! To master a spell is one thing; you simply learn and practice until you know it by heart. But to truly bond with something, and to come to know a creature so profoundly that it might act as a companion... and for such a creature to be a hecking dragon?!
Cashmere's disposition switches like from night to day. He shoots to his feet so swiftly that it startles the donkey into silence (although, in fairness, this is no change from before). He hops over to the drake, eye absolutely glimmering as he looks over its bright-red scales and bright-red eyes.
"That's amazing!!! How did you-... Huh?" It's only then that he looks up with an innocent curiosity, and sees that exact expression reflected on fair skin, round cheeks and an overall cherubicness in which even Cashmere -- a round-cheeked cherub himself -- struggles to find any absence of cuteness. She's young, like him, but an elf; however many years qualifies 'young' for an elf is a question as mysterious as the girl before her, riding atop the ridges of the red-scaled drake. Her dress and hood are a verdant forest's green, but so puffy that they seem as if made from clouds. And the little elf-girl's arms, barely poking out of enormous sleeves, clutches... a wooden staff, topped with a fiery gem.
He isn't sure what to say. What thoughts do cross his mind are little more than murmurings, questions and little doubts. A silence that wavers upon the line of awkward and meaningful hangs between them, until the supposed Wizard continues their speech.
"My little witch in training here and I are here to support you in winning that prize! How does that sound?”
A witch in training...? Are they talking about him? Wait, no...!
Ceres Celestia’s cheeks turned pink as she gripped her staff. “Um… how do you do…?”
And in an instant, Cashmere felt his soul reaching out, as if placing its hand against the window of his heart and waiting for another to meet it. As if on instinct, he hops and leans against the drake's side, standing on his tiptoes so that his gleaming face might endeavour vainly to meet hers.
"You wanna be a witch, too?!" he practically shouts, eye beaming, and drawing the eyes of some passers-by even moreso than the drake's own presence.
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Post by Morrigan Moonweaver on May 27, 2023 22:45:16 GMT -5
Morrigan resisted the urge to cover their ears as the young child’s voice reached unholy decibels of volume out of sheer delight at the sight of the dragon, so loud that it was not meant to be absorbed by humanoid ears. The precocious youngster bypassed Morrigan entirely, skipping past the charlatan like he wasn’t even all that interested in what Morrigan was saying about gold and riches and winning the race.
… Huh. Children really were strange creatures, Morrigan thought. You’d think they’d be interested in the fun-loving, sparkly wizard, but apparently all they really cared about was dragons.
Kids these days.
“Oh, you see, Bubbles and I met when-“ They were interrupted from their explanation as the child suddenly spotted Ceres Celestia on the back of the drake, and let out a shriek of joy that seemed even more grating than the first. This time, Morrigan couldn’t resist clapping their hands over the side of their face to muffle the sound, though Ceres was not so lucky. She was too shocked to wince at the noise, though, as the young boy’s words were even more surprising than their volume. Her pale face turned a light shade of pink, hiding behind her staff as if it could hide her from the onslaught of positivity.
“Oh! Yes, I do…” She squeaked, tugging her hood down over her face with one hand. Who was this other boy? Was he a member of the arcane academy as well? He certainly looked like a witch, with all the proper getup - Ceres Celestia took a lot of pride in her witch getup, and it looked like he did too! Bashful, the young woman pulled herself off of the dragon so that she could stand at the young man’s height, where she stood just a little bit taller than him. “I’m Ceres. What’s your name?”
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Post by cashmere on Jun 8, 2023 21:27:18 GMT -5
It takes the little witch a moment, slow to sociality as he is (especially with those of similar interests!), but Ceres pull the hood over her pinkish face shifts Cashmere's own face to confusion and then to epiphany.
"Oh!" Realizing his lack of manners, he shies away from his own forthrightness, backing away from the drake's hide and hiding a similarly pink face beneath the rim of his hat. "S-Sorry."
It isn't long before the sweet-looking, elven mage climbs off of the drake to stand face-to-face and eyes-to-eye with the little witchling. And, with his witch-hat obscuring, it isn't until she's stood just beside him that he sees her little heels on the ground, and looks up to her with puzzlish eyes.
“I’m Ceres. What’s your name?”
It's the strangest thing; despite his own behaviour before, it's now the little witch that finds himself exceedingly bashful at being asked such a simple question. Perhaps it's because he can now see that this little mage is nonetheless taller than him; perhaps it's because her regalia is so much more refined and professional than his own; perhaps it's just that this Ceres is just an extremely promising contender for one of the cutest people that the little witch has ever seen. Is this what they call Elven beauty? Whatever it is, it has him enthralled -- and a little jealous, albeit not with any of the harsher thoughts associated.
Tapping his fingers, an extremely timid little witch, who's all but forgotten about the so-called "Wizard of the Wastes", says:
"M-My name's Cashmere..." And then, after an awkwardly lengthy silence, "D-Do you wanna talk about magi-"
"Attention!" proclaims a voice over the village, and Cashmere's isn't the only head that perks up in response. "The race shall begin in ten minutes! All racers, finish your preparations and make your way to the starting line!"
Swiftly, the announcement spurs the crowds like a breeze over blades of grass. While the general jove was already present, a certain anticipation rises in the air: the preparations continue with an elevated exuberance as a definitive time channels their excitement -- and, for many of them, their greed. But in Cashmere -- as can be seen plainly on his face -- it only elevates his panic.
"Oh no! I've gotta finish getting ready!" As quickly as clumsily, he scampers over to the apathetic donkey's side. However, upon arriving, it becomes terribly clear that he's completely indecisive as to what to do. "Umm, Umm... Okay, I've groomed you and brushed your teeth and given you snacks and given you horsesho-... Oh no! I didn't get any horseshoes!"
Immediately, he begins scrambling about, searching through bags and knapsacks and pockets, but retrieves not a single horseshoe -- which admittedly isn't as much of an issue as he's displaying, as this donkey is still prime and not in need of shoes. But, not knowing this, Cashmere is distraught; and as he begins to realize that he's utterly bereft of horseshoes, his face and body become stiff with dread...
But no! He can't fail, not now! There's only one thing he can do. He kneels down and pops his foot out of his boot, revealing a little and tattered sock, and then holds the boot in his hand and places it beside one of the donkey's forefeet.
"Quick, Li'l Apple, put this on!"
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Post by Morrigan Moonweaver on Jun 12, 2023 11:44:49 GMT -5
And there it was again. The little hat-clad wizard wannabe was completely ignoring Morrigan in favor of focusing all his attention on their apprentice. All of a sudden his demeanor shifted upon talking to Ceres, going from an energetic bouncing ball of a person to bashful and demure, suddenly going quiet. Ceres didn’t seem to notice the change in attitude, but the charlatan accustomed to reading subtle - or in this case, unsubtle - shifts in tone to make a quick buck witnessed everything. And oh, what an interesting development this was! Yes, this hadn’t quite been the reaction Morrigan expected but they could work with this. They stayed silent, watching this exchange colored with only the awkwardness and whimsy that only a couple of children could manage.
Ceres, on the other hand, looked like she was prone to spontaneously combusting like one of her master’s alchemical concoctions from the attention. The longer the silence stretched on, she wondered if perhaps she’d said something wrong. She’d only given her name, but the other boy seemed to have fallen utterly quiet, starstruck in a way the self-conscious apprentice was incapable of recognizing. Oh no, she must have messed up somehow, and now this boy was wondering if she even deserved to be a magical apprentice, questioning her skills because she had been too shy!
But then, he started to ask a question, cut off by the announcer calling all participants to the starting line. Ceres thought she might’ve missed the question, or misheard it somehow - but if she’d had the chance to answer, it would have been a resolute yes.
Oh, well. Perhaps next time.
Ceres bit her lip and stepped back while Cashmere suddenly scrambled to get his things together, frantic to make his way to the race. Morrigan, who’d been a fly on the wall up until this point, tried to insert themselves into this lovely scene. “Ahem, yes, as I was attempting to say earlier-“
Ignored, as Cashmere started shoving things into his bag.
They cleared their throat, trying again. “That is to say, I bet you could use some help with this race-“
Once more, ignored, as Cashmere realized he was out of horseshoes and started looking for a replacement.
Morrigan was beginning to feel a bit like chopped liver here.
Oh, Ginma. This is my sole hope to winning the competition?
On the plus side, Morrigan was fairly certain that pinning their hopes on an actual child meant that they had a greater chance of making away with the gambling earnings. Who in the world would be betting on this kid, save maybe his parents?
Well, Morrigan could work with this. When Cashmere pulled off one of his boots, trying to shove it on the donkey’s foot, an idea formed in Morrigan’s mind. They clapped their hands together, commanding the attention of everyone in the alley.
“Okay! All eyes on me, if you please!” They said, waiting until Cashmere finally looked at them. “Young Cashmere, it looks like you’ve been presented with a conundrum. Fortunately for you, I think I have a way to solve both of our problems.”
They paused, holding for dramatic effect - enough to grab Cashmere’s interest - before gesturing towards the dragon behind them with a flourish of glitter.
“You, my friend, happen to be in need of a Mount. I, benevolent wizard, happen to have a mount. How about this? I, Morrigan Moonweaver, shall give you access to Bubbles for this race! All I ask in return is a portion of your winnings… how does that sound?”
They held their hand out for Cashmere to shake - a deal with the devil.
Electricity filled the air as racers gathered at the starting line. Not electricity born of magic, or storms, but alight with the excitement and energy that a public event can bring. Not quite a storm, not yet - but brewing with anticipation, a ball of nerves gathering, waiting on bated breath for the first bolt of lightning to strike the ground. The race was about to begin, and young Cashmere’s first big competition!
And even more important, nestled a little bit away from the track, was the possible most important figurehead in this event. The keeper of finances, the maestro of wagers and bets.
The Bookkeeper.
There was no more enjoyable sin than gambling, Morrigan thought. Everything could go horribly wrong, but there was nothing as fun as putting everything on the line for the sake of riches and wealth and glory - and if one was afraid of suffering the losses, one only needed to fix the results. It was for this reason that the charlatan was able to stride with such confidence up to the bookkeeper, amidst the shouts for bets - for some of the fastest and the strongest, the most exotic mounts - and throw down a bag laden with coin onto the table.
“I’m throwing down two hundred.”
Two hundred solars for Morrigan’s dark horse.
“Put it all on the child with a dragon.”
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