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CARNIVAL WORLD CHAPTER 22

I was standing in my inn with Flyt, the wood elf, Melodia, the Orange Tabby Catling, and Long Leon and Charlie Girl were with me, too. When Charlie Girl’s enlistment was up, she had asked if she could stay on Carnival World and work for me. Although Cigar Man was not her favorite person, he had eagerly signed her paperwork and sent her my way. And he was not afraid to say to everyone that Charlie Girl was “the best damn quartermaster specialist I’ve ever had.”
Charlie Girl’s special needs niece was visiting from Earth for a week. She was high functioning, but deaf, and on the plump side, but not overly so. Candy Pemberton was standing beside her aunt, wearing thick lensed spectacles, that covered watery blue eyes that, at the moment, were wide with wonder. She was shy, but otherwise healthy and well-behaved. I asked, using sign, “Are you ready for the Carnival, Candy?” Candy smiled briefly, and signed, “Yes!” After that she pulled behind Charlie Girl and peaked out from behind her at the group. Smoky and Eva’s catling child was standing next to Melodia, licking her paws, but listening intently to the chatter.
Clem was in his room. When he had healed, following the White Dwarf Mountain Quest, I had offered him a job at my inn. I found out that he had some type of Sundowner’s malady, and while extremely affable during the day, about four or five in the afternoon he would become short-tempered.
I had a contract with the half Dwarf for a free room and a free meal as he had cut timber outside, which we could pick up, with the blimp, or with a Dwarven Anti-Grav Sky Barge, when available, and he had helped build the inn. Saved me a lot of time and money not having to import lumber from Earth!
That had been his deal for leaving the White Dwarf Mountains and helping me build the inn – a free room and one free meal a day plus a $25 gold per week allowance. So, it was in my best interest to make our association a successful one.
I try to be accommodating to disabilities, so I had taken him off running the counter on Long Leon’s off days. When the beautiful Charlie Girl wasn’t waitressing, she dressed up as a colonial innkeeper and ran the counter. Charlie Girl had worn her hair in a crew cut under her beret, but now days she sported blue-black Caribbean dreads and no cap.
Carrot Top Clem, being a champion mixed martial artist, when necessary, was a great bouncer. I had installed a buzzer which I could activate anytime that would signal we had need of his assistance, like several drunken Sanguineous Leprechauns or a group of Bandits foolish enough to start a free-for-all- fight.
Before I switched him to early shift, I had to overpower him once, when he angrily jumped over the counter, after a late afternoon customer told Clem he didn’t know the difference between where the sun doesn’t shine and a hole in the ground.
I was able to wear him down, and carry him out, and throw him in his room, and I have scars to prove it. He was slippery as a fish, and I had a hard time tossing him around like I did Ghordo or Grouchy Guy the Barbarian.
Clem had been so upset with himself the next day and thought that I was going to fire him. I am a strong one for second chances, and so I had informed him that if it ever happened again, he was gone, but that I had a notion, that if he worked the morning shift, and stayed in his room, afternoons and evenings, things would work out fine. And they did.
He used to work afternoons and nights, though, before the inn was finished, cutting timbers in the nearby forest. Yeah, there were some complaints from the off-duty rangers that I’d hired as guards, but there had never been any altercations.
Thankfully Tall Tom Stiltenpole hadn’t been interested in pulling off-shift guard duty, or there would have been sparks for sure. I can remember how hard the hillbilly from Arkansas used to pick on Ghordo.
Even Ghordo was careful around the old, but bull strong, orange haired, golden eyed Dwarf. I had put Clem in charge of the morning cleaning and gardening crews and those shifts usually ended about noon. He had promised to go to the fair, with us, but one day soon, after lunch.
Ghordo was no longer the husky, potbellied kid, that I had met in the Orc Stronghold, three years ago. He was six feet tall, about twenty-five pounds heavier, and still growing. His belly weight shifted to his chest and upper arms.
Ghordo came running in, showing off his new blue pullover shirt, purchased in the new Earth Imports store next to the Conner’s Inns and Suites front desk. Ghordo loved buying new fancy t-shirts, pullovers, and button-down collar shirts in every color, bold, pastel or dark.
“Are we ready!” exclaimed Ghordo, grinning excitedly, his two Orc fangs white and polished. When I had first met him, Ghordo’s canine teeth were not long enough to peek out of his lips, but they had just started showing a few months ago and he was proud as a peacock and twice as vain about them.
“We are just locking up the main room. All of the extra rooms are rented, so we left the back doors unlocked, but I am having Long Leon lock the doors of the main area.” I was standing next to the beastly life-size bigfoot and Long Leon was under the wooly mammoth display that hung above the counter. It had cost me an arm and a leg – not literally of course – but a retired taxidermist from White Dwarf City, a friend of Padre, had done a beautiful job of designing real flora and fauna exhibits and set up a few holograms as well for my inn. The displays brought as many customers as my Bard Show.
“I suppose you can’t wait for fair closing, Ghordo. You won the raffle for competing in the first ever official Carnival Game! Who are you going to play? Do you think you’ll win back the $100 you paid for the entrance fee?”
“What do you think Chief? If I didn’t think it would be worth the dumb fee, I wouldn’t have put my name in the dumb box!” replied Ghordo proudly, preening and moving his body around as if we were all mirrors. Then he added, puffing up with importance, “Myself! I don’t want to be no dumb Sanguineous Leprechaun character. There are enough of those dumb dumbs that are non-player characters, like the ride and game workers, and fake carnival goers, that just walk around and clutter up the board.
“And I aint no hobbit. I aint no dwarf. And I aint no pointy eared elf! I am going to play as an Orc Warrior. A warrior by class. But I am a half Orc, so… Pretty much anyone, of any race, unless they are a dumb weakling, can play a warrior. And I would never play that new class. The Peasant. What a dumb idea! Maybe the Lizard Man, in the advanced game, but it is too rough of a start. And I am too good to have all of those penalties tacked on during battles or when I would play the skill games. Whatever idiot dreamed up that class needs his head examined!”
“Yeah, I like the Warrior Class. They are a well-balanced character, in my opinion. They haven’t officially added the Knight as a class yet, but that one is almost as strong as a Barbarian, but without the dumb stupid movement penalty. I’d like to play that one someday. I can see being a Black Knight! Not a goody two shoes white knight, though! But for tonight, as Ghordo the Strong, I will ride the rides and play the games and win the tokens I need to win the tournament!”
I shook my head and laughed along with the rest of the crew, “O.K. boys and girls, kitties and doggies, let’s get this show on the road! Padre and Anselm are busy with their home fellowship meeting, but they promised to join us later.”
Flyt giggled and exclaimed, “Ghordo is going to kick down doors and write down names!” The half Orc had never heard that one before, but laughed his cement mixer laugh, realizing it was a compliment.
Just as we exited the front door and locked up, Kai, from Alpha Team, and the new Asian guy, who had replaced Big Ted, ran up to us. The Asian guy, we called him Secret Asian Guy and Sum Ting Wong; I guess he had been some kind of James Bond caliber spy. Sum Ting Wong exclaimed, “Colonel Zales wants you now Orlando. ‘Tell that Half Elf pronto! Bard can go to the fair tomorrow. I need him now!
“He said that someone calling himself ‘The Last Atlanticean Scholar,’ appeared in some sort of hologram, said you would vouch for him, and that he wanted to parley with the Colonel, St. Patrick, you and Elfred!”
I looked at my crew and said, “Sorry guys and gals. You go have fun. I better go find Zales.” More than a few years had passed since Alpha Team, and I, and Ghordo had journeyed to the White Dwarf Mountains to meet Ayneegh the Third. Although no one dared call him that. Padre would grumble ominously and give us a tongue lashing, full of rolling ares!
Bruce the Moose Kai and Sum Ting Wong (actually Sullivan Tingerias Wong) escorted me to the door on the first floor, outside of Cigar Man’s study, and then remained in the hallway on guard duty. Unlike Zale’s usual preference, the Asian heritage American citizen was not built like a sumo, but was lean, about six-feet tall and muscular. Secret Asian Man was good with any gun, good with his hands and good with daggers and swords. But his best special ability was that he was a polyglot. Wong has a gift. That is one reason he had been trained as a spy. He possessed a photographic memory for picking up new languages and accents. Alpha team called him Secret Asian Man. I came up with the other nickname.
Might as well tell you all that story. It is a quick one. And you are, for the moment, a captive audience.
Alpha team bought Sully to my inn for his birthday. He sat right out there where you are. All of Alpha team and I think some Delta guys and gals were there, too. So was Ghordo. Padre may have sat in on that one, as well.
Anyway, folks, I reformed the old Sum Ting Wong joke for him on the stage. Instead of being born black, like the baby joke, I said he was born with baby muscles, instead of baby fat, and that he jumped out of the nurse’s arms and karate kicked the doctor for slapping his behind. Instead of crying, out came a war scream!
And that, when his dad heard the story, he named his new son, in the tradition of his South Vietnamese ancestors, “Sum Ting Wong!” So, they call Sullivan that, as much as they call him Secret Agent Man.
Elfred, just like before, looked as if he had popped out of a high-end LARP convention. He was wearing the same thick, shimmery emerald robe, with voluminous bell bottom sleeves. Thick golden braid trim circled his neck. and ran across each shoulder. Elfred’s pointed purple wizard’s hat, studded with silver, gold and gem sequins of stars and comets, was standing point up on the table. He wore a shiny silver skullcap with a yellow Chinese feathered dragon etched into its top. Green gems, glowing dimly, winked, from the eyes of the carved dragon. That item he had not removed. A gold pocket watch with a tiger eye gem in the center, hung suspended from Elfred’s neck like a locket. He was quickly sipping whiskey and smoking one of Zale’s cigars.
Cool Man had left his sporty suit jacket with surfer t-shirt at home and was wearing his white and green bishop’s garb with mitre. The bishop cap, like Elfred’s wizard cap, sat near him on the table. He itched himself over the lanced green dragon emblem of St. Patrick’s Cathedral. Once again, sans cigar, he was carefully and slowly sipping a whiskey.
I had worried all the way here, wondering if Nayana Zazazi was going to tattle on me that I had invaded the sanctity of his secret laboratory. How could he even be alive? Didn’t he use the age regressor technology one last time and jump his portal to pre-colonial earth in the southwest United States? He should be dust in the ground!
The hologram was gone and there sitting in front of me was the ancient scientist himself, with a simple and less ostentatious robe, than the two Conner brothers. The Atlanticean’s tan, deer leather robe, was covered by a fine chest-piece, ghost armor vest, of colorful bead and quill in the Southwestern pueblo native style. He also wore knee-length fur boots with hammer-and-awl crafted silver buttons.
Nayana Zazazi, after receiving permission for the parley, had informed everyone present that he had arrived on our blimp and had lodgings at Conner’s Carnival Inn. Big Mike and Big Bad John had escorted the real Nayana Zazazi to the meeting, while Kai and Sully had been sent to fetch me.
This time I was the last man present. Zales waved at me impatiently, “Sit down, Bard! Don’t just stand there like you are going to start drooling! My assistant will bring you a whiskey and cigar. Sit!” barked the colonel impatiently, “Sit!”
While I was taking a seat, Zales head rotated like a turret gun, and asked, “Mr. Nayana Zazazi, did you also attempt to contact the Colonel at the Irish Pub Theme Park?”
“No, Colonel Zales, I declined that opportunity, as he or that city, was not mentioned in Ayneegh’s prophecy,” replied Nayana Zazazi.
Cigar Man puffed on his cigar, then gestured with the rum-flavored stogie, and offered, “Probably for the best, Nayana Zazazi. The Irish Pub Theme Park commander is, what my mother used to say, ‘Book smart, but no common sense!’
“When Colonel Ripple Berkner-Kennedy tries to fix a problem, he has at least a fifty-fifty chance that the problem will go nuclear. Don’t get me wrong; he’s a nice guy and his civvy workers just love him. But if I wouldn’t have gotten him an audience with the black, white, and red dwarves, after the White Dwarf Mission, his padooka would have been sent back to New York years ago!”
Switching his intent gaze back to me, Zale’s growled, “Now tell me, Bard, how do you know a supposedly long dead, Atlantean, I mean Atlanticean Scholar?”
“Uhh. Well—”
Cigar Man snapped, “Spit it out man, I don’t have all day. You’re a world famous bard and you can’t say anything except uhh…well..? Give me a break, Orlando! And I don’t want to hear any clever donkey back talk about exiting McDonald’s today, happily toting a kiddie box that is one French Fry short of a Happy Meal!”
“Well, technically, I know about him, Zales.” I added, “Hero of the Monster Men War. Servant of Creator. One of the most famous scholars and scientists of the Good Atlanticeans. I will vouch for him in the sense that according to all of the lore, that he is a wise and good man. One who should be dust in the ground. No offense.”
Nayana Zazazi smiled warmly and said, “No offense taken. Thank you for your kind words, Orlando the Caretaker.” He was a small man, thin, only about five seven or eight with deeply tanned skin. He looked to be about thirty years old. He wore a white turban on his head. Nayana Zazazi’s black hair hung behind him, jutting out under his hat, in a short pony. His facial features, very angular, yet esthetically appealing, were somewhere between an India Indian and a gypsy. He wore a turquoise and silver amulet on a leather cord. N in Old Enochian and the Enochian symbols for wiseman and the symbol for Atlanticea was engraved into the amulet. The inside of each rune was painted with a fiery red orange.
Nayana Zazazi bowed to each of them in turn, “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice. I apologize for the theatrics. If you will hear me out, I need your assistance. I do not come empty handed. He reached into one of the voluminous pockets of his under-vest robe.

Carnival World Chapter 23

“Quietly! Quietly everyone! Break time is over, and we are ready to find out what gift the Atlanticean scholar has brought to Zales and the Conner brothers. And, more importantly, what he is asking in trade. The ‘fine print’ as Zales so pointedly put it, when we get to that point in tonight’s tale.”
***
“Just for hearing me out,” explained Nayana Zazazi, the clone of the Ancient Atlanticean Scholar and Advanced Technology Grand Master, “I offer you this manual. It is written in Atlanticean or Enochian script. I realize that my language is a dead language. However, if I am not mistaken, you have the ability, thanks to ‘The Caretaker,’ to read it with the help of a crystal skull translator.
“Also, there is an ancient research building that sits upon the shores of the southwestern cliffs of the Western Sea, not over a day’s journey from West Catalina Island.
“If you go there, you will find advanced technology. The book will help you successfully operate the device that makes clones of humans and heals and age regresses people. It also uses a form of teleportation technology. The device is housed within a construction of Atlanticean transparent steel and resonant Milky Granite, designed for anti-gravitational movement. If you activate the side seating option of the Skip Jack passenger area, there should be plenty of room for you to carry it inside of the Atlanticean Air, Water, and Spaceship you have parked on the sky dock.
Sakki Nayana Zazazi looked compassionately at Cool Man and Elfred. “You will need to find it quickly, as, if the prophecy is correct, your brother, the one referred to as ‘The Ambassador’ will soon die—”
“What?” yelled Elfred, “How can you know that? Surely you jest! What sort of distasteful joke is this, little man?” Professor Conner almost exited his seat, rising briefly, then sitting back into his cushioned blond Captain’s chair. Elfred, slammed his glass against the table, spilled a few drops, then attempted to regain his composure.
“Easy brother,” said Cool Man, also known as Patrick Conner, in a calming manner, to his brother Elfred Conner.
Nayana Zazazi, sipped his drink and pushed the old leather-bound book to Zales. Using this book and that device, will make your brother, Patrick and Elfred, young and healthy again.”
“Excuse me,” I said gently, then asked, “why do you keep referring to me as ‘The Caretaker?’ I am not familiar with that title. And how are you here, so young and healthy?” Although even as I said that aloud, I secretly wondered if Sakki Nayana Zazazi was about to announce to all present that I had invaded his secret laboratory. Moreover, would he broadcast my secret, that I was the one, who had, without permission, used and even gave away his personal belongings.
“I’d like to know the answers to those questions, as well,” said Zales, dryly, rolling his cigar around in his mouth, then sucking in, making the cut tip of the cigar glow orange, before exhaling. But then his eyes widened, “Not to say, Sakki Nayana Zazazi, last of the good Atlanticeans, that I am not thrilled with the potential of the gift you bring, ‘to the table as it were.’ I am. Your gift is most generous. I am, however, waiting for the fine print, of your offer, so to speak.”
Cool Man and Elfred said almost as one, “Say on, Sakki!”
Nayana Zazazi lifted the whiskey to his lips, swirled it around and inhaled, then sipped lightly.
“The reason that I am here, my friends, is that I am not Nayana Zazazi, but I do have his body and his memories. I am a clone, recently formed for the purpose of this mission. Before Nayana Zazazi went off world, he left instructions to one of his machines to clone himself for this mission.
“Do you know of the Dwarf Cleric, Ayneegh the First, who was sent with words to many royal personages and villages, over one thousand years ago, just before the Dark Times of the Monster Men War?”
We all nodded.
“Old Ayneegh gave me a prophecy. I am not going to quote it word for word. It was an encouragement but also a warning for that time – and a future time.
“It says that when the people from Enoch’s planet come to live in the Cyclopean Star Portal structure, that on the day that they bring the machines of amusement with colored lights, and lively and playful, calliopes, xylophones, and steam whistle organs, the second Dark Naga rising will begin, albeit slowly. Another attempt to rule Carnival World will be made.
“It also says that on that day, the day the Carnival opens, for the first time, a high elf prince, his wife and their daughter will come to the Carnival. From the word of prophecy, the leader of the army will only be successful, in the future, in gaining total victory over the Dark Naga scheme if the Caretaker – Orlando Bard – is united with the Protector, the White Naga princess. And they agree together to guide and protect the High Elf Princess. Additionally, if the High Elf Princess is not protected, not only will she die, but the High Elf race will become extinct.
“Zandar, when he was young, took a team of adventurers under the ruins of White Naga Castle. It had been overrun by the Monster Men and Clown-Faced Assassins, a few weeks earlier, but they were long gone when Zandar arrived.
“The Monster Men and assassins killed princess Quetzi’s parents and all of the White Naga, except for the Naga princess and some eggs that are also in the suspended animation unit. Her mother, knowing the attack was coming, hid the young human form Naga girl and the royal families and royal servant’s eggs, in the stasis chamber, which is several hours, underground, from the ruins of the White Naga Castle. Zandar found the stasis chamber and ended her suspended animation, freeing her. They restarted the machine and left the eggs.
“Quetzi was a young girl who wanted to serve Creator. Princess Quetzi is very kind and wise and has great ability as a healer. Not only is she good at making natural medicine but she has a prayer, and laying on of hands ability, like some of your clerics and paladins. She is also fluent in speaking or reading both Atlanticean and Ophidian, which has many English words, but delivered with hissings and whisperings, and has a faint India Indian accent. That is the Naga tongue. Of course, she can speak and understand Old Ophidian, which is a guttural language of strong whispers, throat rattles and loud hisses- also called Snake Tongue.
“Since Zander needed a good healer for his team and refused to allow a Dwarf that privilege, he brought the young girl along. Princess Quetzi journeyed with him for several centuries, but when Zandar’s father died, and he went home to run the castle, Quetzi went back to her chamber and now sleeps in suspended animation. She had been told by Creator that she must sleep, and one day when she was needed, one called ‘Orlando the Caretaker’ would awaken her.”
Nayana Zazazi reached into his other robe pocket and pulled out a long glowing purple crystal that hummed, and the melody it made was beautiful, almost captivating. He said, “This is a gem palace. If you place it on the ground and sing along with the hum, a crystal castle will appear. It is about the size of one of the lots you sell. If you need gold or gems for the cost of the lot, I can arrange it. Or you can make it part of our alliance conditions.
“Behind St. Patrick’s Cathedral, well behind the building, up against the Cyclopean wall, if you place the gem, the castle will appear. The lower floor of that building will pierce a tunnel. If you follow that tunnel north and east toward the Naga Mountains, about three hours walk, you will come to Quetzi’s suspended animation coffin.
“If you are all in agreement, Bard will go fetch her.
“According to the prophecy, if the Bard and Quetzi, the Caretaker and The Protector, meet me alone, at the park in your northwest quadrant, and befriend the royal family, then the High Elves will not become extinct, and when it is time, Colonel Zales will fully quell the next Dark Naga time of trouble. If you, Bard, bring Princess Quetzi to that park, and meet the royal family with me, when the moon is young in the sky, all will go well. If you do not come tonight or are late, things do not go well. Much worse, in fact, if you don’t come, but the later you are in meeting us, Bard, or if you do not have Princess Quetzi in tow, things will go, even more, from bad to worse.
“Do we have an accord, sirs?” asked Nayana Zazazi, Clone One.
Zales offered, “Do you want me to send along some guards?
Nayana Zazazi stroked his chin, “I would like to say yes, Colonel, but the prophecy states that our venture will be successful, only if it is just myself, the Caretaker, the Protector and Faerune and his wife who meet.
“I have already sent Faerune a missive, before they left the Castle Zandar, promising to help them with their looming extinction problem. And required of them concerning a few private personal matters.
“The prince was wary, but since that is a goal, one that has long been on his heart, something that has worried him and kept him awake at night, he finally agreed to the meeting. And besides, he had promised his daughter, Mystica Knorn, that they would go as a family on the first day the carnival opens.”
“Make it happen,” intoned Cigar Man, followed by a breathy release of tobacco smoke.
***
Bard sipped his water, “Tomorrow night I will continue Mystica Knorn’s story. Be there or be square!” He added, following a strum of his lute, “Thanks for coming to the Adventurer’s Inn tonight and have a great rest of your evening!”
***

CARNIVAL WORLD, CHAPTER 24

Orlando Bard, seated in his red cushioned and finely stained oak stage chair, turned to the right and perused his collection of Bard, Ranger, Archer and miscellaneous costume caps.
All his caps were contained in a long bookcase, protected by a locked transparent aluminum door that was kept closed unless he was giving a show. Bard kept all his show caps and a few neat stage props neatly arranged on the long wooden bookshelf next to his stage chair.
“Hmmm. Which cap should I wear for you tonight? The chocolate fancy feathered peasants cap or the tan fancy peasant feathered cap. Or the lime green feathered archer’s cap. No, I just wore that one a few nights ago. Hmmm. And almost all of my fancy caps were crafted by haberdasheries from Earth, based on the illustrated headwear utilized by the characters of the 3DO adventure games, of course, then imported at great expense. Ahh, no, for tonight none of those caps will do. I shall wear this old beauty!”
Following a quick smile, Orlando doffed his, black with a gold band, cap from 3DO “Heroes Three” adventure game and bowed to the crowd gathered below his stage.
“Good evening, folks, and welcome to the Adventurer’s Inn, tonight is going to be our next installment session on Mystica Knorn. I will also be telling you about how I had to take out a lizard man cryptid, all by myself. Well, technically, that is what I thought. Actually, I had help. It ended up being one of the quickest and easiest cryptid battles I’ve ever fought.”
“When it rains it pours folks! It was a simple find and rescue, three hours away down a straight tunnel. As you may guess, it didn’t end up being simple. It never is.”
Cheers, hoots and clapping, that didn’t stop for protracted minutes, filled the inn with raucous applause. I finally interrupted the audience and said, “Thanks for your long applause, folks, but no need for hero worship here. Just put me on a shelf and dust me off once per year and continue to buy products from the Adventurer’s Inn!”
I strummed my lute then continued, “Any of you hear what Zales said when I told him about taking out that Cryptid lizard?” I waited briefly, then said, “I quote, ‘I thought of buying a lizard pet as a boy, but I was too afraid it would grow up into a politician.’” There were a few laughs from the earth visitors, but for most of the native Carnival World citizens, that comment went completely over their heads. That said, because of the commander’s local celebrity status, the comment was shared quite liberally around the city. After they understood what an American politician was, they changed the term to king’s advisor for the native listeners. After that, Zale’s comment wasn’t just celebrity gossip but generated the appropriate laughs.
I adjusted my famous black feathered archer’s cap, from the Heroes Three video game, then strummed my lute, one of several instruments I own, and intoned theatrically, “Buckle up, kitties and doggies! The adventure begins!”
…

Mystica whooped with exuberance as she and her mother and father rode the roller coaster that snaked high across the center of the carnival area. When they finally came to a stop, and exited not too far from the ticket booth, Mystica exclaimed, “Uhh! Let’s do that again,” followed by her thumbs up victory salute, which she often reserved for such moments, whether she was alone or had an audience.”
Latraya held her stomach, and would have fallen out of the seat, if Faerune hadn’t grabbed her. Mystica spied tokens in the grass, that had fallen out of other rider’s pockets, and jumped out and deftly scooped white, red, blue, one black, and several green tokens. She found as well, both white and blue carnival tickets and a plastic carnival golden penny dollar coin. Mystica then placed her new-found loot into her leather pouch.
Latraya said, “Have your father take you, Mystica! I am never going to ride that contraption again! I just about upchucked lunch!” They stepped out and walked past the ticket booth. “Uhhm, we have enough tickets, with the ones I just found, so we don’t need to stop at the ticket booth.”
Rounding the corner and entering the board walk of paving stones, again, they passed the entrance to the Roller Coaster once more. Mystica asked, “Are you sure, mother, that you don’t want to try the ride again?”
“No, Mystica. I shall pass. The next ride over is called a Ferris Wheel. I would be willing to try that one.”
“O.K.” said Mystica as she ran across the twenty-sided die symbol. Nothing happened. And the same for her parents. The percentage chance, during the general fair, was only one percent. When it was lit up during the game, the player would kick a foam die that was about a yard in circumference. Usually, a roll of fifteen or higher on a D20 yard wide foam die was needed to spawn the holographic monster during an actual game. A natural nineteen or better for the Wolf’s Den Overlook square.
Mystica and her family paid the Carny three tickets and rode the Ferris Wheel. The princess’s sharp eyes spotted a crumpled five-dollar United States greenback, and three red prize tokens and two white tickets. She yelped with delight as she shoved them into her pouch and fastened the latch.
When they got to the top, the wheel stopped. Latraya grumbled in a high-pitched voice, “I don’t know if I like this, but it is better than that roller coaster!”
Faerune chuckled and patted his wife’s hand gently. “Oh, Honey Dear! Everything is going to be just fine!”
Just then Mystica giggled and began rocking the Ferris Wheel seat.
“Mystica R. Knorn! Cease and desist right now!” yelped Latraya in a high-pitched gurgle of words.
Faerune focused hard to stop himself from laughing as he said, “Mystica honey! Be good to your mother.”
“Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!” said Mystica, speaking each word quickly, and compacted the three identical words together almost as one word.
Just then Faerune looked to the northwest and saw the park bench and pink lotus tree where he and Latraya were supposed to meet the “last of the good Atlanticean scientists.” After receiving the first missive, Sakki Nayana Zazazi afterwards appeared as a hologram at the castle. Both Faerune and Latraya were very skilled at body language and discerning character. They knew, just from talking with him, that he was a wise and kind man. Only after meeting his hologram, had they agreed to meet with him in private, and discuss his plan to solve the problem of High Elf extinction, as more of them were dying than being birthed into their world.
The small park was beautiful and yet, there was a sudden queasiness to his stomach. Must be the rocking of the seat, from such a high height, thought Faerune, ignoring the sudden dark premonition that washed over his sturdy, six-foot plus, wide shouldered, but not Barbarian wide, High Elf frame.
The Ferris Wheel spun slowly, gently and majestically, three more revolutions, before Mystica, Faerune and Latraya ended their ride. Then the ride carny, a Red Dwarf male, wearing a black leather helmet, with bone-white horns, and light quilted armor, with a blackjack on his belt, unpinned the door and opened it.
Mystica’s family stepped on another twenty-sided die icon. Again, no random monster holograms were generated. Latraya smiled and said, “That – what do you call it – Ferris Wheel ride. That was a nice ride. I think I am acclimating now.”
They all walked spritely up to the Tilt-O-Whirl, then seated themselves. They waited about three minutes for the carny. She was a blond, pony-tailed female hobbit, dressed in blue velvet, and wearing a blue musketeer’s cap. A primitive cap and ball horse pistol sat snuggly in a worn holster on one hip. A one-handed, golden headed battle-hammer, rested against the other hip. Mystica’s eagle sharp eyes watched the young carny girl, about the same age, or younger, than the princess. A name was written on the back of her suede blue armless jacket: Kinyata, Farshire Clan.
Mystica noticed a glint at her feet and spied another plastic golden penny dollar carnival coin and five blue tokens and placed them in her pouch. Finally, the young lady, Carny Kinyata, collected the ride fee from Mystica, Faerune, and Latraya. When the ride began, Mystica leaned to one side, to make the ride swirl. She laughed joyously, when, after a brief hesitation, rather than scold her, Faerune and Latraya, joined her in swaying back and forth, working together to whirl the ride. They all exclaimed excitedly as their circular, covered cup like ride, spun backwards and forwards as the ride continued.
After exiting the ride, they walked again along the paving stones. One Milky Granite paving stone had a circular opening with a grassy lawn surrounded by mushrooms. Mystica giggled and jumped into the center of the mushrooms. When she vanished, Faerune yelled, and Latraya screamed.
Horrified, Faerune yelled for a constable and grabbed Latraya’s arm as she began to wail in panic. Just as a Paladin and a Carnival bounty hunter, came rushing to them. The lady Paladin ordered, “Hello, Carnival visitors, I am Paladin Darcy. Please calm down! No need to panic. The Fey children are nice, but pranky. They just teleported her somewhere nearby. She’s safe and sound. Just look around the carnival.”
The Irish Pub Theme Park also sent some of their Bounty Hunters, like rent-a-cops, to help with fair security at Carnival Theme Park, compliments of Cullen’s twin brother, the constable from the eastern theme park. So, there were extra security people scattered around the fairgrounds ready to help if there was an accident, or Tommy O’Field lost track of his Sanguineous Leprechauns.
He, Tommy O’Field, had secretly been hired by the Conner brothers to see that the Carnival City pickpockets and thieves did not get mean, and kill or assault people, like was happening at the Irish Pub Theme Park.
The Conner brothers didn’t mind, especially on the Carnival grounds, if one of Tommy’s little urchins nabbed a handful of American dollars, or some plastic carnival token, but they did not want them to rob people blind and beat them silly or accidently kill someone. And Tommy, so far, had been well compensated for his needful supervision.
“Your daughter,” continued the tall, six-two, Paladin woman, “is either on the board somewhere or she has appeared in the commons.
“I can send the bounty hunter out of the fairgrounds to collect her from the commons outside of the mall area.” Darcy motioned bruskly to the nearby bounty hunter, “Pym! Check the Mall Commons. She could be in one of the five faerie rings. Thank Creator, she’s not a Fey, so she can’t teleport with them to a random Fey Village and be dispersed from Hell to Breakfast, as the Master Alchemist is wont to say. Those rings connect to all the Fey villages scattered throughout the Borderlands!” Pym sprinted out of the fairgrounds, running east towards the town square.
Faerune asked anxiously, “What is happening, constable Darcy?”
“Don’t worry. Oh gods! Are you Faerune the prince! Let’s not make this a diplomatic issue. The Fey rings are teleports. Not ours. They belong to the Fey, Prince Faerune. If we remove them, they are back the next morning. And they have never harmed anyone. They just giggle and pop people randomly around the board. The Master Alchemist parlayed with them, and they helped him, as they are wont to do, with a few serious issues, but wouldn’t make their children give up their fairy ring tricksy toys!
“If you pay the fairies a gold piece, real or plastic, they just take you to a random spot on the board. If you don’t have a gold piece you get sent to the commons. It is all part of the show. Did you read about the faerie rings in the brochure, Prince Faerune?”
Meanwhile Mystica came running to them from across the carnival grounds, from next to the ring toss booth, face happy and glowing with excitement. “Mother! Father! I met the fairies and gave them gold coins. I have never seen one before. I read about them in books, and these were not the evil kind with goat horns, big pointy teeth mouths, and a spade tail! They are so tiny and beautiful!”
Mystica held up her hand to show them the golden ring with the green shamrock jewel. “Mother! Father! Uhmm. The Fey children, basically, said I was special and gave me this ring with a four-leaf clover on it. They said it can make me lucky. Basically, …uhmm…either something good can happen to me or in a bad situation, it may keep something worse from occurring. They said that I am special and that I will be famous, even legendary, when I grow up!”
Latraya ran to meet Mystica, “Don’t jump into any more faerie rings, Mystica R. Knorn! It is too scary for me!”
“I promise,” said Mystica as she kissed her mother on the cheek.
Faerune said to the Paladin. “Sorry, I remember reading about the faerie rings, but I don’t remember anything about teleportation unless you are playing the actual game!”
“Yes, Prince Faerune, teleportation usually only occurs during a game, just like wandering monster activity or treasure finds. All those things happen rarely – I emphasize the word may – may happen rarely – when people are just visiting the fair. Please, I hope we do not have a diplomatic incident over this!”
“You are lucky my King Zander isn’t here, young Paladin,” grinned Faerune. “There would definitely be a dressing down, worse than Cullen Conner might give you, with a lot of cussing and powerful, resounding, theatrical and sarcastic put downs. But from me, no! No, Paladin Darcy, your quick thinking and calming explanations made things right. I may even put in a recommendation for you, to the Conner Corporation, and your commander, Chief Cullen Conner.”
The lady Paladin curtsied and said, “Thank you, Prince Faerune,” just as Pym the bounty hunter arrived and said, “Oh good, you found her. I didn’t see her in the commons, and I was worried we might have to go look outside of the Cyclopean walls.
“It is rare, but if someone is mean to a fairy, they might get pickpocketed and tossed outside, where it is dangerous. Wandering monster attacks have a higher probability of occurring when you are teleported out of the carnival grounds and into the Borderlands proper.
“Oh, and by the way, a little heads up, continued Bounty Hunter Pym. “Don’t step on that paving stone next to the beer and soda pub, with the Sanguineous Leprechaun Gang painted on the paving stone. There is a slight chance a real Sanguineous Leprechaun will appear. Slight, but possible, unless you are playing the game. Then it is quite common.
“Tommy O’Field is the head of the thief’s guild here. He owns the Sanguineous Leprechaun Club and Game Store. He is usually pretty good at keeping them pickpockets from getting vicious, like the Sanguineous Leprechaun gang members, at the Irish Pub Theme Park out east.
I got trained at the Center Pub Bounty Hunter’s guild by Conner Corporation, at the Irish Pub Theme Park. Then I was sent here to help the Paladins with security duty on the fairgrounds.
You should visit him. Nice chap. If you see him wandering the fairgrounds, he looks like a legendary giant stepping around, slowly, and ponderously, and about ten feet tall. And yet he can appear out of nowhere. I think the Wandering Alchemist got him some advanced technology doodad that teleports him anywhere he wants around the fairgrounds.
But if you visit him in the Sanguineous Leprechaun Club and Game Store, out of costume, he’s far less than six feet tall. Nice chap. Good with his hands, too, from carpentry to metal working. Designed all his own furniture and bookcases and display tables, too. Loves all kinds of games. And it is rumored that he made a secret underground club house – members only – for his top tier patrons and Sanguineous Leprechaun guild boys and girls!”
“If you run into a pair or three Leprechauns during the fair, it is probably just some of our actors, who will ask to take a Polaroid of one of them with you and sell it to you for $2.
“But the real ones,” continued Pym the male bounty hunter, “hide out from time to time, and they are as pesky as the little goblins that sneak in here. The goblins though, they can be a menace. We put up bounties for the little creeps. They make the Irish Pub hooligans look like choir boys and girls. There is a village of nice goblins that live in a small wood, long before you get to the Goblin Cave’s Road. They were befriended by the Fey and the naughty ones kept being teleported out of the area until only the nice ones were left.
“So be careful! Avoid that game square next to the pub! If you think a little green costumed man or kid with a derby on his head, gets a little frisky, yell for one of us Bounty Hunters or a Paladin, and we’ll come help you out. Got rounds to do. Gotta go now. Have fun!”
Mystica, Faerune and Latraya carefully walked around the Sanguineous Leprechaun square and headed into the pub. They found an empty table and a cute waitress, dressed like she was at a St. Patrick’s Day party strolled pertly to their table. Using a trained Irish accent, the cute little orange haired waif smiled and pulled out an order pad, “Top o’ the morning! Erin go bragh! I hope you are havin’ a craic visit! What can I do ya for?”
Faerun asked, “Do you have anything non-alcoholic? I want something special like that for myself, my wife and my daughter.”
The waitress smiled and offered, “May I suggest to ya, today’s non-alcoholic beverage. Tomorrow it is lemon-lime soda with fresh cow’s cream, but today it is a beverage called Cherry Cola.”
“Yes, three of them!” exclaimed Faerune.
Latraya added, “No ice for Mystica. She’ll just play with it and irritate us to death making tinkling noises and get her glass chattering like Skels!”
The waitress scribbled notes on her pad and said, “Three colas coming right up. Two with ice and one for your wee one with no Skel teeth!”
About five minutes later, the barmaid, dressed in her green short-skirt and clover print blouse, and pointy, curly-toed, gold buckled, emerald slippers, brought their drinks on a large tray.
Faerune paid for the drinks and gave her a very nice tip. The barmaid beamed as she pocketed the tip and placed the payment on her drink carrier, “Wherever you go, and whatever you do, may the luck of the Irish, be there with you.”
“One!” exclaimed Mystica, as she showed the waitress her lucky ring, “Basically the uhh faeries, after I stepped into the faerie ring, and I gave them each a gold piece, gave me this four-leaf clover ring of luck.”
“Ah grand!” exclaimed the barmaid, “Lucky be you! The faeries ‘round here are not the mean ones, but they take your gold, a wee bit, plastic or real, but never give you prizes! Creator blessed ya must be lassie!”
“Uhh. The fairies said I am special and that I will be legendary one day after I grow up!”
“I would say, ‘away with the faeries!’” said the pretty little barmaid, lifting her small, but cute pointy nose, into the air, “But I heard others talking about it, wee one, at the other tables, and you are talkin’ straight!” The waitress smiled at them once more, before moving onto a new table of fairgoers, who were stopping by to fill their thirst.
“Uhhm.” Suggested Mystica, “Let’s go to the Carnival tent that has training for playing the games.”
Faerune laughed and said, “Do you think I am made of money, Mystica?”
Mystica giggled, “Yes! You brought gold and gems with you, and you have more at the castle, too.”
Faerune smiled, “That I do, Mystica honey.”
“We have the money, but do you need to practice the games? You probably have the necessary hand and eye coordination to win prizes without paying for training,” cautioned Latraya.
Faerune said, “Well, if we are walking by the tent, we might as well peek inside. Are we done with our drinks? Then off we go honeys!”
They turned south down the board walk. The training tent was about in the middle of the game board grounds, but on the far edge of the board. Stepping inside, they watched “Hawker,” a tall, painfully thin, purple mohawked, acne faced human teenager, with an axe strapped to his pirate’s costume of peach, yellow and lime green, with little bells and printed with gray lilies and palm trees.
Dexter Jensen, with his mother, who was a housekeeper at Conner’s Inns and Suites, had signed their NDA’s and took the Earth Star Portal to Carnival City contracting to work, just a few weeks before the grand opening of the fair.
Everyone called him Cap’n Hawker which was clearly visible on his name tag. He tugged at his gaudy, tarnished, clip-on, gold and pearl earring hanging off his left ear. He shifted from side to side, during his spiel, a rocking red stuffed toy parrot strapped to his shoulder. Dex exclaimed anxiously, in an over-acted salesman’s voice, “A mere $20.00 for level one training, but for today only, if you trade in five small prizes and $70 – that’s almost half price – and you can take Expert and Master training, too! And for one fantastic low price!”
“Uhhm,” whined Mystica sadly, “My father has the money, but we don’t have enough small prizes!”
Suddenly a giant of a man, who even towered over the Barbarians milling about the multi-colored tent, ambled over. The giant loomed over the Dwarves, Wood Elves, Catlings, several mixed humans, and a male and female blue Feyhoomon, most wearing fantasy costumes or fancy tourist clothes.
The giant man/boy walked over to Mystica, with slow, measured, ponderous steps. The giant was so tall that he could not stand at the edge of the big top tent without stooping. Oddly, it was the baby-face of a plump boy of about ten, with messy, golden blond hair, peaking out wildly from under a black knit stocking cap, who’s scrawny neck shoved up and out over the great gray trench coat collar.
He sauntered up to Faerune’s family and jubilantly, in a squeaky voice, asked, “Did I hear the little lady say she doesn’t have any small prizes?”
Tommy junior opened his ankle length gray overcoat. Standing there, with the boy sitting on his shoulders, was another gentleman, of medium height. Maybe five nine or five ten. Tommy Senior looked like an older version of the boy, but with dark brown hair, rather than blond. Tommy junior perched on Tommy senior’s shoulders. The shoes were old fashioned black, with red trim, canvas shoes, with several white metal lacing rings, and a white half-moon toe topper, at the front of each shoe. Five-inch-thick, black tire treads were carved to size and shape, then tacked to the bottom of each shoe.
Tommy Sr. offered a warm, yet mischievous grin, that glowed like a Chesire cat, from out of his slightly gray, and mostly dark brown and blond whiskers. “Hi out there!”
The nine-foot-long trench coat Tommy held open was well used, and if you looked closely, two long trench coats were sewn together into one garment. The coats were professional topcoats that American businessmen pay small fortunes for, when new, but had been purchased for pennies on the dollar, from a discount donated goods store, from Eau Claire, Wisconsin, Earth.
“Today is your lucky day little lady!” cried the older man, carnival barker style, standing below Tommy Jr.
Tommy senior added, “If you buy ten of my white tickets, today, for ten dollars, you can have five of these small prizes! Genuine Golden Penny Dollars! But just today. Tomorrow it is $30, for thirty tickets, and one small prize.”
Holding his jacket open with one hand, Tommy Sr. pointed to rows of small prizes, plastic tubes full of Golden Penny Dollars, fastened with Velcro, to the inside lining of his topcoat. Other Velcro pockets held white carnival tickets. On the other side of the coat lining was a cast-aluminum, metal coin and currency change machine.
Mystica jumping jacked in place, “Father! Father! Please, I want to make the deal!”
The hawker, who had been trying to sell the $70 full training package deal exclaimed, “You get out of my tent, you sawed-off earth shysters! I am kicking your buts out of here!”
Tommy senior talked out of the side of his mouth, “Yeah. Yeah. You and what army, Carny Boy!
Carny Boy yelled, “I’ll yell for a Bounty Hunter! I’ll yell for a Paladin—”
Tommy O’Field junior, from his perch atop Tommy Sr., chortled, then raspberried the red-faced Carny Boy.
Tommy O’Field Sr., laughed, “Yeah-yeah, Dexter Jensen. Tell me all about it.
“They won’t touch me, and you know it!” added Tommy senior, twisting his head at an angle, and chuckling sarcastically, then continued persuading the obnoxiously costumed pirate carny.
“Besides, this is a win-win situation, Cap’n Jack Parrot!
“I sell them white tickets and give them five Golden Penny Dollars!
“You get seventy dollars and five small prizes! And the commissions on the value!
“If you can’t see the advantage in this, for both of us, Carny Boy, you were born yesterday and under a rock, too!”
Tommy senior paused and pointed at his gray t-shirt that said, “Come see me at the Sanguineous Leprechaun Club.” He added, “Cap’n Jack Parrot, this shouldn’t be a hard decision. You get a free drink for visiting my night club and game store, later, and you get a nice commission for selling the deal of the day now. Binga! Banga. Boom! Easy as pie.”
Carny Boy threw up his hands and exclaimed, “Fine! Fine. Have it your way, Tommy O’Field!” From that day on, Dexter Jensen crafted a new nametag and referred to himself, as Cap’n Jack Parrot, rather than Cap’n Hawker.
Tommy O’Field senior, the entrepreneur from Taylor County, Wisconsin, of Earth, turned to Faerune and said, “Going once! Going twice! Going three times! Well?”
Faerune laughed, “How can I turn down my daughter’s request after being the recipient of this fine drama?”
“Sold!” exclaimed Tommy O’Field, senior. With a smile, Tommy Sr. collected the money for his white tickets (Official Carnival tickets were blue) and handed Faerune five small plastic golden coin prizes and the white scalpers tickets.
Tommy O’Field closed his topcoat, and said, “Thanks for doing business! Don’t forget to stop by the Sanguineous Leprechaun Club and Game Store!” And then, as he stepped out of the tent, Tommy O’Field, Jr. snorted loudly and quipped, his comment liberally greased with acidic snark, “See you around, Carny Boy!”
Mystica, after her father paid Cap’n Jack Parrot, used up about two hours of time, and left the tent with Master Carnival Gamer and Master Observation Skill certificates. When Mystica Knorn and her family left the training tent she said, “Uhhm. When the faeries teleported me, I appeared by the Ring Toss game. Let’s go do that now.”