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The World Fair [Evening - OPEN]

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OOC: Water Cooler thread 

Previous: World Fair [Nationwide Event]


A lull, a word applicable only relative to the din that had become norm for the fair, rimes the grounds. At this obvious portent Radon excavates himself from the semi-permanent bivouac contractually promised him. Ever the professional, measured and unhurried steps lilt him towards the stage. It's somewhat uncomfortable watching the aged man heave himself up and settle down behind the podium, chest visibly rising in a mad bid for air.

"All those gathered here, listen."

Radon speaks, and the infirmity of his flesh is suddenly a mere corona to his spirit; an intangible quality that is there, that exists, that surrounds and envelops him, but which does little other than hint at the radiating core of power that is his Voice.

"A brief intermission follows now, as the remaining exhibitions bide their time and refine their displays, gather up their mettle and gird their loins before presenting themselves to the world. Meanwhile they do, you are all encouraged to sample the local cuisine and to approach any of those with lapis lazuli sashes if you have questions about the location of anything in this, our sprawling Fair.

"And worry not, for even during the intermission you will be treated to innovation – there is no rest for us if we are to reach the scintillating future just within reach, asking that we merely raise our hands and pluck it from the sky to enjoy the fruits of our labors.

"I present to you what I have been told is named the Luminous Illusion Entertainment System. Or L.I.E.S. Enjoy."

Even as Radon parted from the podium and worked his way off the stage, the air he once occupied filled with ivory mist. This brume expanded in the manner of gasses and vapors but crawled no further than the stage; no higher than twenty feet from the ground as if its dimensions were defined by hard, transparent boundaries.

Worms of light come suddenly from that thick fog, squirming themselves to life, then thrashing violently as they burgeoned into coils of rope stretching from one side of the invisible box to the other and coalescing into a palpating weave. A matrix with gaps of space between the tethers – gaps halved and halved again by festooning tentacles of light.

The crowd now looked upon a ghastly canvas that eked phantasmagoria, pulsed subtly, and glowed soft mother-of-pearl.

Images formed. Indistinct shapes. Vague silhouettes coming from out of that mist. The silhouettes attained an honest fidelity, rivaling reality's resolution within the confines of their box. And little though that box was, never once overstepping their bounds or broaching their borders, those shapes managed to tell a story.

What proceeds is an animated narrative, a medley of lights and movement but also of sound, and music.

None of the characters are human but all walk upright, all speak Terric to an intelligible degree, wearing attire native to the land and germane to the time, sporting symbols that the common citizen knows well.

It is the story of a prince turned Sahagin when kissed on the lips by a pale evil witch with yellow eyes. The prince is outcast, driven to madness and to the edge of the land, where he casts himself down into the depths of the ocean. He searches for salvation. If not a cure, then a death worthy the throne and crown denied him.

The prince falls in love with a swordfish and finds his salvation in love, his peace in the dark recesses of the South Sea.

Edited by supernal

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Nich'e (Post #--) 
How does one maintain a complete ecosystem, underground? Ramlah Lyer (ecologist) asks that you take it a step further. How to enable that ecosystem, that civilization, to thrive? Join Nilam Kori (engineer) and explore Nich'e's taqat powered filtration technology, the Nehru-Kori System, originally developed to ensure the city always had clean, reusable sources of air and water in a closed industrial space. Live, interactive demonstrations developed by Samir Sen (biologist) involve an isolated ecosystem and various animal test subjects.

Of all the things Nilam has seen on her journey along the surface, the spires of Gaian Academy remind her of home. Its magnificence carries echoes of Mhasalkar Conservatory, but the strict geometry reminds her she’s in foreign lands. It doesn’t wind and twist like she’s used to; the halls less endless and roads less cramped, paths less unpredictable. No giant faerie sentinels living inside of the walls just waiting for someone to seal their own fate by littering—or at least, as far as she can tell. But Nilam is glad to be inside. Inside means away from the dizzy, unending sky.
“You keep pulling on your whiskers like that and you’ll hurt yourself.” Nilam glares to her right. Samir is smirking at her, his deep blue reptilian face stretched smooth and flat with laughing gold eyes perched high near his scaled brows. He’s carrying a box, the velvet cushioned pipes and glass jingling softly inside of the crate. “Aren’t you samur supposed to be more careful of things like that?"
“I am careful,” she huffs. Still, she consciously stuffs her hands into the pockets of her coat when they itch to groom at the sides of her face. “More than you sampjib anyway.”
“I highly doubt that.” This one sits at a small desk with a pen in her hand and a large notebook laid out on its surface. Her name tag reads Ramlah Iyer, emblazoned in printed Terric letters under the crest of Nich'e. A proud pair of horns extends from her green forehead, curling back along her skull; they’re adorned with shiny copper cuffs, each ring etched with plant imagery and attached to small bells that chime softly whenever she moves her head.
Nilam thinks it’s tacky—what kind of scientist wears such showy jewelry?—but doesn’t have the courage to say it to her face. Instead she says, “I still don’t understand why they needed to send you. Having Samir to help is enough.” Which, honestly, isn’t much better.
Samir tries not to look offended as he carries his box of supplies to the nearby table.
“The Sa'dars said the humans would be more receptive if one who looks…similar is present,” Ramlah replies loftily with a vague wave of her hand. Drops of ink splash on nearby curtain from her pen. She either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.
“If they wanted something like that they should’ve sent Jibani,” Nilam grumbles.
“Though ecology is one of Jibani’s many talents I’m sure, it is not her specialty,” Ramlah says with flawless composure, though she very nearly flicks ink at Nilam out of spite. “And even if she were, she’s occupied. Something about an experiment getting loose.” Ramlah’s nose wrinkles in distaste and she turns back to scribble something into a large notebook. "Again."
“Again?” Samir repeats. He has a bent pipe in each hand, fixing them together with a metal connector. “This is the third time isn’t it?"
Ramlah doesn’t even lift her head from her book to reply. “I heard it ate one of the mercenaries she hired from the Lal'ispata. They threw quite the fit in the lobby. Even Sa’dar Makari found it necessary to…intervene. Quite the tragedy."
Samir groans. “It’s not so much tragic as it is irresponsible. And to get the Chancellor involved?"
“Regardless,” Ramlah continues, smoothing her sari. It’s green, just like the rest of her. “After Lilavati’s visit, the Council thinks that more rakshasa presence would be…prudent. Jibani possesses neither the horns nor the tact."
Nilam eyes the Terran guards standing by their exhibit, crossing her fingers that none of them understand Nich’ean. They’re dressed from head to toe in formal armor, standing at nearly twice her size. Could probably throw me across the hall with one arm if they wanted, she thinks with a little trepidation. Nilam tries her best to help Samir instead of gawking at the Imperial Drae only a few stalls over, stepping restlessly in the small space its been given. Her grandparents had told her stories of San Yara, about how not all the creatures in the wilderness actively want to kill anything that steps in its territory and how pretty the ocean looks when the sun sets, painting everything in warm colors like a thousand taqat lamps.
It’s better to think of friendly wildlife and fiery sunsets instead of the humans and elves and whoever else—no doubt scholars from all over Terrenus—gathering in front of their exhibit from across the way, where the Luminous Illusion Entertainment System—L.I.E.S.? Who chose that acronym?—is being exhibited. Nilam would appreciate the glimpses of the dreamlike show, were it not for her nerves. She tries not to think of the pressure, about how the entire undercity’s reputation relies on their presentation, how just a single misstep could have her standing in the Chancellor’s office while she pinches out chunks of reddish fur just waiting for their beloved Sa’dar to expell her—
“Relax, Nilam,” Samir sighs, cutting between her racing thoughts. “You’re going to pluck yourself bald and end up looking like a mole rat.”
Nilam gasps in horror. “I would not look like a mole rat!” There’s another snort from Ramlah and Samir just shakes his head, handing Nilam another set of tubes and metal connectors to keep her hands busy.
Just on the other side of the curtain is their exhibit, their proud display for their city. It waits for them, a behemoth of thick rounded glass and curving tubes made of fungus and metal shaded by a dimming spell. Small creatures scurry along the plants and soil packed against its bowels, and condensation fogs the sides of the glass, half-shrouding the glowing ecosystem, its air and water filtered by the mechanisms plugged into it. Ramlah handpicked every fungus, flower, and insect chosen for this strange and isolated coexistence so that the system can maintain itself without any poking and prodding. It’s possibly the only manifestation of Nilam and Ramlah’s collaboration—also a strange and isolated coexistence.
A crystal projector throws images onto a plain white tarp beside the giant glass orb, flashing headlines, brief facts and history about the device in neatly translated Terric. Come, see the Nehru-Kohri System! Come see the brilliance from Nich’e! The next step in urban technology! Next to that, a podium with a stepping stool, a courtesy meant for Nilam’s height but Nilam only wonders if they could not have simply just made the podium shorter. She laughs inwardly at the thought of Samir squatting over the microphone while attempting to be eloquent in his presentation of the filtration system and medicine.
A girl can dream.
Samir makes the last adjustments to the jumble of pipes and connectors, hooking it up to a clear box filled with a blackish smoke and connecting the box to the behemoth of pipes and glass. Ramlah gathers her last minute notes and looks at the box with distate as if the box had personally offended her before moving outside of the curtain to check on her precious plants, each soon to serve in example for the already time-tested filtration system. Nilam straightens her jacket, smoothing over the front and the back. With shaky fingers, she fixes her name tag to her jacket and steps past the curtain. When she steps up to the podium, she grips onto it for dear life.
Thankfully, her voice is loud and clear as she says in practiced Terric, “Welcome, guests to the World’s Fair! I am Nilam Kori of Mhasalkar Conservatory in Nich'e, here to proudly represent the work of my forebears! May I present to you, the Nehru-Kori system!"

Edited by Refrigerator

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Amethyst Wandered through the crowds and pulled her cloak tighter. She heard everything muffled and slipped one wolf ear out. There we go,she whispered. She adjusted the hidden daggers and sword under her cloak. She hurried quickly to a man in dull muted colors. Quickly she slipped a piece of paper in his hand. Hey! he shouted. What is this?! Amethyst whipped around. Dang,she whispered. Wrong man.... Ugh.


Quickly she hurried through the crowds and hopped on a train. With out paying. Quickly she runs off the train while it's moving in the middle of no where. She rushed into the woods and into a well made house.

{Side note: Sorry for the sudden bolds and the different font}

Edited by ScarlettPhoenix

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The LIES is a sound system – that is to say reliable and enduring, for the LIES is actually a 'multi-sensory shared field experience'. The exact nature of its internal mechanics is a moderately guarded secret. Guarded at all because the Terrenus government has every intention of taking hold of the Entertainment market with its complex illusion-based system, and never letting go.


Only moderately so because this working prototype has dozens of identical siblings resting soundly in the dark bellies of underground factories. Its herald in the Fair is a propaganda gambit meant to increase publicity before release. Even if an unscrupulous sneak thief cracked their design, they wouldn't have the resources or manpower to produce a rival product before their LIES swept the nation like a nor'easter.


Somewhere in the crowd lurked an information analyst. She expended no effort to hide her open study of murmured snatches of conversation, or to obscure the quick sketches of facial expressions she noticed among the crowd in reaction to the LIES (the 'shocked' expression that rippled over the crowd when the witch's cadmium yellow eyes  consumed the whole 'screen' was one precious example).


Underneath the stage, spinning at imperceptible speeds in the heart of the LIES, was a pre-packaged, pre-programmed crystal sphere of illusions that is the end result of a chorus of sorcerers slaving over a hot spell book for nearly a week. Each magus focused on a different sensory array, one designing images, another constructing sounds, a third drafting scents, a fourth doctoring sensation, and a fifth subtly joining tastes to the other arrays so that the feel of ocean spray against one's skin and the smell of the sea in one's nose came with the understated taste of salt.


For all that the show was magnificent but only half an hour long. The analyst departed as the crowd was left to bask in the ebbing wake of the experience-high provided by the LIES. Downtime was an essential component of the experience – when one's spirit was moved by art and turned by beauty, it needed to find itself again. Most only needed a few seconds to gather their wits, some a whole minute.


The Nich'e display did not have the crackling, sizzling fanfare like what drew the masses towards the San Yara exhibit, and potentially drove them away from Argus's display, but they had chosen their timing and proximity well. Their projection onto the white tarp came right after the LIES, and was all they needed to draw eyes their way, and with drawn eyes came drawn bodies.


Samir and Ramlah found refuge from the blistering stare of the crowd in the cool shade of their work – Samir spent more time than strictly necessary fiddling with pipes and such, and Ramlah seemed to have discovered a new world to study inside of her notes. Gripping the podium like it anchored her to this reality, Nilam ventured words of introduction, but the resonant quality of their delivery did not ring out for long before a voice sounded in retort.


"That's all fine and dandy!"


A hand came up behind leagues of exulted faces. The hand remained raised as the body attached to it struggled through limbs and torsos, revealing a youthful countenance and the attire of an apprentice mason.


"But, pardon me, what's that thing actually DO?!"


Another hand shot up in the crowd, slenderer to the eye but with a weathered look about it. This was a hand that knew work. The body attached to it, too, made its way through the crowd. Onto the stage. The robes that identified the woman as an acolyte of the Gaian faith billowed about her person.


"Sophina, your eminence", she said in introduction, in a comfortable Nich'e'an dialect with all the earmarks of being studiously learned rather than assimilated through cultural osmosis.

Sophina took her place alongside the podium that Nilam continued to occupy.  Nilam was able to soliloquize in her native tongue with Sophina as her translator, and this allowed Nilam to achieve a peak of ease and verve that translated into fluid body language.


"This is the Nehru-Kori system. This system has a function. That function is to render the waste product of an industrial ecosystem into a renewable resource." Nilam paused here and let implications impregnate the mind.


"The air filter is a combination depth filter that is impervious to clogging and autonomous in maintenance, and a memory bark scrubber that can be coded to identify a region's breathable air as a unique element. The air filter is thus capable of removing virtually all forms of airborne toxin, disease and pollution and leaving behind breathable air.


"Water distillation is achieved by means of vapor-compression distillation. Its material composition guarantees a minimum of five years operation without maintenance, generates a thousand liters of pure water per day, and requires no consumables, pipelines, or installation permits."


A pause. Sophina took one large step to the side, and two large steps back, while Nilam joined her company.


From Radon's semi-permanent bivouac came Matthius Brown. He approached and claimed the podium. Things rolled on with such greased synchronicity that one could wonder if the initial inquirer had been a plan meant to move things along.


"I'm also personally pleased to announce that a successful union between engineers at the Gaian Academy and the Mhasalkar Conservatory has resulted in a solution to the continuing quality of life issue in Biazo Isle. An additional node has been developed to the Nehru-Kori system that applies its powerful filtration technology to arcane waste and magical fallout. Tests in controlled labs indicate that Biazo will be cleaned of its pollution in short order."


Matthius retreated. Samir stepped forward and Sophina explained that, "The closed system you see here and which is now being projected onto the screen behind us, is so sensitive that if it is taken out of its housing and exposed to naked air or sunshine it will immediately begin wilting. Watch."


Then they put the Nehru-Kori system through the wringer. Or more appropriately said the Nehru-Kori system's wringer put them all through it. They started with smoke, progressed to slurry, graduated to tar and slime, and unleashed gathered Biazo miasma into the ecosystem. None of it so much as dislodged a petal from a blossom inside of the housing.


And then, as the final proof, just one of the plants is taken up in its housing and placed before the projector so that its image was magnified and cast on the screen. Samir opened a facet on the housing and the plant inside immediately began to welt. Samir closed the housing off before the plant died completely but the point had been proven.


"With this," Matthius took the podium again. "We will reclaim every last foot of Biazo Isle, enable the use and limited occupation of hostile terrain, and further diplomatic relations with Terrenus and Nich'e. People of every sort, and of every creed. We are entering into a golden age."

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The full immersion technology of the LIES was almost impressive. However Van's experience with [abbr= Direct Cerebral Interface Technology]DCIT[/abbr] had left him desensitized. Tricking sensory organs into reacting was nifty but the organs could be bypassed by interacting directly with the brain, an experience he found to be far more powerful. Of course the dangers with DCIT were abundant, which restricted to to military/government application until the possibility of cooking someone's brain was removed.


As the LIES display ended and the Nehru-Kori presentation began, Van moves from the outskirts of the crowd, towards the middle. Moments later a series of speakers rotate out in an absurdly vague explanation about the capabilities of the device. Van's eyes shift from side to side as he waited for someone to ask the next logical question... it wasn't coming. Guess I'll be that guy.


From near dead center, Van's hand raises into the air and waves from side to side. It is only after he is sure that he's caught their attention that he speaks. "I'm going to be honest with you, I'm not a particularly smart person, so excuse my stupidity... but If it doesn't require maintenance for five years, what happens to the impurities?"


Wasn't that a logical follow up? Van thought so. "So you've filtered out the air and water and have a collection toxins and bad juju. Does it pump it into the ground? Does it just store it and eventually explode into a toxic mana ball of hate, sin, and hexes." His own line of questioning forces his brain to turn a bit faster. 


"Completely ignoring the final disposal of the toxins, what if the liquid source is contaminated with with a material that has a lower vapor point than the water and an absurdly low flash point? Will the compression cycle cause combustion? " His gaze dances about, not looking to any one person for answers. He imagined that they were probably getting frustrated and while he was certainly making a few assumptions about the actual processes of the product, they seemed to be logical enough.


After a few moments to allow his questions to be tackled, Van raised his hand again. However this time he didn't wait to be acknowledge.


"Also..." There is a pause as he thinks over his wording. "It sounds like there isn't a physical filter, so what stops toxins that can be carried in water vapor from ending up in the final product?"


Van inhales, pauses, and decides not to relent." Finally, you don't actually mean that the final product is pure water? Like 100% pure water, nothing else in it? Because I know a few engineers that use pure water to dissolve steel. I'm not a scientist by any means, but I'm pretty sure that can't be good for the body."


While he was pretty sure that they had answers to his questions, he couldn't be wonder if they'd actually provide them. How much proprietary knowledge were they willing to disclose?

Edited by Praetorian

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It could only generate misgivings, to impose the anecdotal and the familiar onto new experiences – the echo of old habits and behaviors onto the shadows of new beings.

There was something familiar to the Nich'e'an retinue. Looking upon them led the mind to natural leaps of logic. It did not take a faith that could move mountains to infer that these people were the result of something aberrant to normative experience – of a breed of men and women and other that grew in darkness, under pressures and conditions alien to Terrenus-Above.

Still. Their image did not jar the senses. Matthius found many Nich'e'an breeds whose slightest turn of expression sang the breath out his lungs. Many of them had eyes, mouths and lips, arms and legs, in places that the human mind did not revolt at to apprehend. Even so, to look into the eyes of Nilam and of Samir and of Ramlah was to know nothing. They were no inscrutable. Their faces emoted and expressed. But what passed across Nilam's face could have been pleasant surprise as easily as limitless rage. Hard to say.

To see that far into the crowd without his corrective lenses, Matthius needed to squint his old man eyes. He zeroed in on the young buck, the man's face slowly resolving and attached memories flooding to the fore as it did.


There wasn't much in his information stores so far as personal interactions went but, progeny of Edward Brown and involved member of military that he was, it was tactically impossible to escape the face of a PeaceKeeper. Matthius recognized this one as being based out of Hell's Gate, fountainhead of modern Terran engineering. Matthius's puss soured.

Nilam spoke. Now it was Sophina's turn to nod as she staged the phrases in her head and prepared to speak in turn, lips parting, chest stirring as she filled her lungs. Matthius stepped forward and turned towards Nilam and Sophina simultaneously.

"Would you allow me? I kind of know him."

Permitted, Matthius took the podium. He leaned into it, real casual like.

"We'll be releasing a whitepaper to address some of the more technical concerns, but for safety and propriety reasons, there's only so much detail we'll be able to launch into at this exhibition.

"The Nehru-Kori system was developed as an agnostic filtration system. What I mean by this is that this technology was not developed with any specific race or culture in mind and so is not meant to address particular nutritional concerns. There is an assumption that some sort of diet will be taken in alongside the purified water that will compensate for the removed minerals. So called 'tap water' is able to provide a statistically significant amount of certain minerals; most do not factor this into their daily food intake anyway.

"The system has an organic membrane and components that 'gobble up' most impurities. What can't be 'gobbled up' is collected in the system and when the system reaches capacity it shuts down completely. This informs our five-year average lifespan, at which point it can be brought into a maintenance center and traded out for a new, more than likely improved by then, system. "

(OOC: For Cody).
(OOC: I couldn't find anything on the water melting steel, which sounds slick. What I did find out was that water combines with carbon dioxide to form an electrolyte which dissolves iron. Acid rain and seawater are both better electrolytes than pure water. They corrode metal faster for the inclusion of the minerals which cause these reactions, not for the lack of them.

I couldn't think of a way to include it in the post but I just wanted you to know you're a bastard.)

"The exception, I regret to admit, is the miasmic filter node due to limitations with the organic membrane, which is why the node is not included in the base models and the modified Nehru-Kori systems will be deployed in Biazo Isle by military technicians."

Matthius nodded as a visible punctuation mark to signify the end of his involvement. He exited the stage, walking further than Radon's semi-permanent bivouac and spiriting away to some corner of the Fair.

"If there are further questions," Nilam announced through Sophina. "We will be stationed here. We will also be taking volunteers to introduce any of various impurities into the system as crowd-source quality assurance. Thank you."

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Transition Summary

The the lively back-and-forth between the presenters and the crowd, broadcast across

the grounds, managed to draw even more people towards the demonstration. At the end

of it the little Q&A booth that the Nich'e engineers and scientists was flooded by

people inquiring, if not after specifics of the design, then availability and

capabilities of the product.

An early evening marches steadily towards the night. The sun is still out, peeking boldly though briefly whenever the cloud cover breaks and showering the grounds in sheets of light gold. But the colors of the sky are ever darkening. A few hours more and night would be upon the Fair.
"Step on up, step on up!"

The massive octopus was not so much 'humanoid' as 'human-sized'. It sat inside of a smooth, granite tub filled with water, most of its body submerged but for its bulbous head and eyes. In front of the tub was a table, the length of a grown man in size and width.

The octopus used two tentacles a piece to grip each end of the table - the remaining four tentacles remained submerged along with its body.

"Step on up!" Its voice bubbled out of the tub but could be heard clear and sonorous.

"Bet 5 VB, win 20! Can't get better odds than that! Bet 5 and win 20!"

(OOC: The game is basically 3-card monte but using 8 cards. I'll be using a random die roller, posting results here, to determine win/lose/draw.


1-3 = Lose
4-6 = Draw. Stalemate
7-8 = Win.

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Ishmael had seen a lot over the years. They hadn't been good to him. His face was still youthful despite faltering through tiring lines revealing his age.

'The night is young, no need to depart so soon.' Ishmael muttered to himself under his breath. He could feel his heart rate picking up slightly. Strolling through the crowd, he heard numerous people praising Gaia - it was good to be among those of the faith - and found himself stood with numerous others gathered near an octopus dealing out cards. This was a peculiar game that he had never seen before.

'A curious thing; a sea-dwelling creature with a full deck... let alone one which can, speak...'

Though he had visited the Gaian Academy a few times in his life, the Corsaro had never had pleasure of studying here like many famous and infamous individuals had in the short years it had been established. It was a great honour to him to visit once again during the World Fair. Ishmael may not have lived an honest life, but he blessed Gaia each and every day for his life. Some say this is the only reason he is still alive.

A woman in a Lapuzi ribbon approached him.

'Would you like a drink, Mister?'

'A water if it wouldn't trouble you, young woman. May I ask what else is going on at the Fair today?' Edited by SanBreton

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"A water would trouble me the least, sir."


The young woman was actually a middle-aged mother of three, and she took the compliment with a smile. A hearty Terran diet and a robust lifestyle kept her reasonably fit.


The woman reached up above her and twirled her hand in the air as if twisting a ribbon. It would have taken her a few minutes and much running around to extract enough water out of the air to drink. But today the skies were overcast and the clouds, gravid with moisture, allowed her to not only pull a full cup of water but make an ice-cup to hold it.  


Holding out the cup to him the woman answered.


"You've just missed a major exhibit I'm afraid. A demonstration of the LI Entertainment System, and the Nehru-Kori filter. The [url=http://www.valucre.com/index.php?/topic/23918-world-fair-%E2%80%93-san-yara-menagerie/]San Yara Menagerie[/url] is still active but has been for several hours now and as it is nearing night, I doubt that many of their tents are still open.


"There are food booths that will take you on a culinary field trip around the nation, a midway for games much like the one offered by this one," The woman motioned to the octopus. "And future events scheduled within an hour and a half or so.


"I believe within half an hour (4-5 posts) there'll also be a show put on for the fairgoers entertainment though I am unclear on the details."

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'It was very kind of you to tell me of the events, I regret missing the, Illusions Entertainments... I am afraid I am late more often then I care to admit, young woman. Thank you for the water.'

Ishmael politely bowed his head and turned back towards the octopus. Choosing to wait for the coming events in the next hour or so, he reached into his satchel and pulled a small vile before languidly fiddling with the seal and pouring it into the iced water. Ishmael could feel the spirit of the wolf inside of him; not once had he questioned the notion of ridding the so called 'curse', if Gaia allowed it to be, so it may be. However, now was not the time to deal with such an 'undesirable change'.

After a few sips, the concoction began to take effect, and Ishmaels blood began to simmer down. Approaching the octopus with a look of curious perplexity struck across his face, Ishmael pointed at the cards and enquired about the rules of the game.

(ooc: are VB credits I donate or made up currency I can just bet with?) Edited by SanBreton

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(OOC:  VB are points you donate. You get one for every post you make in an IC place, as well as the Tavern of Legend. You have 2 for posting twice in this thread.)


"Oi! Interested in my lil' ol' game, that it?"


Despite being mostly immersed in water, the octopus's words frothing bubbles in the tub, the octopus could be heard clearly. And with an accent.


"The rules is simple they is. You put your money down here, on this side of the table." One tentacle writhed, indicating the spot. "I put mines down here, on this other end. Now, see this card with the red face?" A suction cup tensed and flipped a card over.


"That's the money card, that's the one your heart desires. I puts it face-down like so, and I put this other cards with blue and green faces down like so. Then I use the graces that Gaia saw fit to gift me with and switch them around fast as I please.


"Alls you have to do, alls you have to do is pick the red card and you quadruple your money like that! Pretty darn enticin', eh?"


The octopus must have sensed some hesitation, or perhaps he just wanted to draw in a larger crowd.


"And tell you what I'lls do for you. First game is on yours truly. Second game, half off. Interested in playing?"


(OOC: If you decide to go for it you can just pick a random card in your next post and I'll roll a die to determine if you won or lost.)

Edited by supernal

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'Well, that is very kind of you, my aquatic friend. I would like very much to play.'

Speaking with a peculiar foreign accent himself albeit a different one, Ishmael finished the last of his drink and set the glass aside. He felt luck on his side tonight, one of very few times he had felt it at all. Ishmael Corsaro had a good perceptive grasp of most challenges he had come face to face with, but games were not typically his virtue. Nevertheless, he'd decided to play anyway.

The crowds gathered around to watch the Man of Casper play his first hand with the eight-armed dealer.

'Tonight, Octopus, I shall let fate guide my hand.'

Closing his eyes, he selected one of the cards...

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Placed to one side and neglected, the ice cup would soon melt into harmless water. That was the clever trick about it, you couldn’t litter.


Ishmael was offered some very tempting bait. Risk nothing at all and maybe turn a profit on it? You'd have to be a loon to pass that opportunity up, just for curiosity's sake if nothing else.


The moment he agreed to the game the octopus went about his business. His many hands went to their work, suctioning the cards and shuffling them around the long, wide table with a sensitive and purposeful agility.


No effort at all was made to try to draw Ishmael into a false sense of security and lure him deeper into some nebulous trap. This was a true test of skill and perception. The cards came to a rest.


"Pick as you will, sir."


(OOC: Rolled a 6 = Draw.)


"Ah! A Draw card. Looks like I get to keep my money, and you would have as well had you put any of it down. So! What do you say sir? Want to go at it again for half the price as normal? 2 VB, and you could get ten times as much, simple as that."

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The display alone had drew in Ishmael! Completely and utterly enthralled by the showcased talents of the creature before him, Ishmael didn't think twice about going in for another round. It was once said that Victory is a fleeting thing in the gambling business. Today's winners are tomorrow's blinking toads, dumb beasts with no hope. This dumb beast it seemed, wanted more.

'I must go again! You are very quick, but my eyes may be quicker...'

Ishmael reached for his glass of water, but his grip was countered by the melting ice, resulting in his beverage hitting the floor and spilling everywhere, along with his dignity.

'Bah! How foolish. Young woman, I am terribly sorry for this.'

Brushing off his humility, Ishmael played another hand with the octopus...

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The woman in the blue ribbon had left a short while ago, off to attend to some other patron of the fair with their own gamut of inquiries.


"Yes." The octopus game-master intoned, tentacles scrunching up and writhing in agreement. "They just may be."


With a flurry of activity the octopus applied himself to the game once more in earnest. His tentacles moved about even faster this time, having been warmed up by the previous iteration of his game, and they virtually blurred over the table with celerity.


Then they came to a sudden, jarring stop. The cards laid out in a neat row on the table, backs glistening with drops of water from the octopus's tub. They waited for Ishmael's touch.


(Rolled a 2 = Lose.)


Ishmael flipped his chosen card over and revealed a bitter blue façade. One could not see the octopus grin beneath the water sloshing about in the tub, but one could almost feel it. The tentacle laid itself over the two coins and slithered them off the table.


"Lady Luck is a fickle beast ain't she sir? We can keepit going iffin you so please but it'll cost you 5 this time."

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