Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » Summer Soiree: The Goblin Fair [Accepting Players]

The 'flyers' were hand written in already fading orange lettering upon large leaves, smudged here and there, and tacked to every tavern post, fence rail, and festival board within a few days walk of the woods. Some were nailed upside down, a few were tied to the legs of very confused deer, but the message upon them was the same every time:

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The goblin's voice rang out over the meadow clearing, surprisingly loud for someone so small whose only height advantage was standing on a crate labeled 'Mostly Fresh Turnips'. He wore a red vest far too small for his round green belly and a feathered cap that kept tilting into his eyes. "ONE DAY ONLY! We got games! We got snacks! We got mysterious liquids in unlabeled barrels! And no entry fee 'less you're taller than this here stick!" He held up a crooked twig whose length was about knee high to the average human.

Next to him stood Fredrick Trinder, co-host of this years Goblin Fair. He was barefoot in the summer grass and wearing a colorful flower crown, that might've once been orderly, and a large pleasant smile upon his face. "Don't listen to him, everyone's welcome!" Drick called out, quickly swatting the twig away.

The Goblin Fair was already beginning to bustle inside the meadow clearing; the clearing being a wide ring of sunlit grass nestled at the foot of a cliff wall that was surrounded on all sides by trees. Colorful pennants swayed overhead, strung between wooden poles and low hanging branches. Among them were unlit lanterns that dangled dangerously above scattered tables, chairs, and logs, as if strung up haphazardly.

At the far end of the fair was a wooden stage that had been propped up against the rock face, complete with painted shields, dangling targets, and a set of stairs flanked by mismatched banners. A few goblins clambered about in preparation for some sort of performance, or possibly an archery demonstration judging by the arrows stuck in nearby hay bales.

Stalls and tents circled the perimeter. Some sold fried things on sticks, others boasted jars of sweets, carved trinkets, or mystery pies. One particularly popular stand had a bucket full of what might be toads, and a goblin with a chalkboard inviting people to 'Place Yer Bets, No Toad Smugglin'!'

"Pick a game, try some treats, and have a good time!" Drick's voice rang out as he gestured about broadly.

"Treats for the right amount'a coin that is!!! And absolutely no fightin' 'less it's very, very funny!" The goblin beside him shouted to the gathering crowd with his arms proudly thrown wide. Fredrick gave the crate of mostly fresh turnips a swift kick. The goblin wobbled, flailed a bit, and barely kept his balance as his feathered cap toppled over his eyes.

"Oi! That's sabotage!" The goblin barked at his co-host as it flapped one arm for balance.

"Nay, that's just goblin control." Drick replied with a wry grin as he waved happily at the next set of arrivals.

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“Can you not eat those…” Isoria mumbled to a deer bound and determined to eat out of the berry stash she had been collecting. “Ewww, you’re slobbering in it—shoo!” Was it slobber? Or was it nose drainage? She couldn’t tell. Deer were surprisingly hard to move, or perhaps she was too weak. She’d claim the first option.

Pressing both hands against the body to push with every bit of energy stored in her cotton tail, she grunted and heaved until her feet slipped in the grass and she was looking up at the deer’s belly instead. “You’re already fat! Why are you eating my stuff?!”

She flailed once for good measure. Twice just to spite her circumstances. But then something fluttered, something tied to the ankle of the berry fiend. Eh? Propping up on her elbow, she snatched the leaf up. Words. On a leaf? Tied to a deer? Isoria read it out loud once. Loud enough for the deer to hear but to promptly ignore in favor of the free meal. “Goblin fair?” She had never heard of such a thing. Festivals celebrating the season’s sure. But a goblin fair?

Standing now, she looked between the mostly eaten berry heap and her leaf. “I guess I’m going to a fair.” The Bun rambled to no one who cared or understood. Adjusting the strap of her satchel, she set off in the direction of what she assumed was North. Or…was it this way? Wait. Which of the trees were the Ancient Oak? Her ears stood to full attention now. Maybe she’d hear the fair before she saw it.

Half an hour of random choices later and Isoria stumbled into the clearing with more leaves on her person than the one she currently held. She blew curls out of face and swept the back of her hand against a sweaty brow. “Whew…..woah…” It. Was. Glorious! Her ears picked up on the shouting, the lull of conversation and cheers of victory or groans of defeats. What she got to see, besides the strange way the fair had been crafted, was exactly what a goblin was. They were not what she expected, but she was delightfully informed nonetheless.

Drick stood near the entrance with his usual boundless energy, his arms spread wide as he greeted each new arrival with a beaming smile. "Welcome! Welcome! Don't be shy!"

"-'Less you're afraid ta eat our mystery pies!" the goblin shouted beside him, just completely thrilled with himself.

Drick visibly winced, his whole posture twitching at the goblin's proud, and terrible, rhyme. He turned slowly to give the little green menace a long, tight lipped look before returning a happy smile to the gathering guests. "Nope! You don't have to eat the pies!" he clarified to the newcomers.

"YAH YA DO!" the goblin shouted again, full of conviction and lacking none of his original thrill.

Drick tipped his head back and closed his eyes for a moment of quiet suffering, mumbling something soundless to the sky. This was the price of saying yes too early and asking questions too late, but salvation came in the form of long ears and curly hair. Drick spotted the starry eyed, leaf coated Bun approaching the fair and perked up immediately before he darted forward with a renewed grin. "Welcome to the Goblin Fair! We've got games to keep you entertained all day!"

Behind him, the goblin had already hopped off his turnip box in search of the previously swatted measuring twig and was now making his way towards them boldly. Drick's expression didn't change as he casually reached back and planted a palm right across the goblin's face mid charge.

"No! Stop it!" he hissed under his breath as he gently, but firmly, pushed the wriggling host backwards. The goblin thrashed dramatically, his green arm flailing as he reached toward his intended taraget; Isoria. The goblin was keen on making sure no faeries made it inside without paying their dues, despite the obvious, until Drick finally guided him aside... With a light shove.

"Oi!" the goblin barked, stumbling off with a glare behind his tilted feathered cap, culminating in a trail of muttered goblin curses.

Drick lifted his hand innocently to the side as he gave Isoria a welcoming smile. "Ah hah... Don't mind him. He's two silver short of a gold coin, and I think one of his silvers is prooobably a rock. Come on in!"

The view was taken in greedily and barely settled into place for questioning when one ear turned before her head did. “Mmm?” The sound was a reflex. A single hum that liked to put her into conversations she hadn’t originally planned to join, but listen to. Here, it was her greeting to the welcome instead. “I found it then? What a relief.” She held up her leaf to look over it again. “It’s odd to put flyers on a leaf though. I have no idea how you managed it so perfectly…”

The leaf was then twirled between two fingers while the goblin approached them with a twig. Was it a wand? Could it cast magic— the approach was halted. The creature making a strange grunting sound around the hand and flailed until it was successfully shooed away. Hmmm. Could he push a deer away just as effectively or was she really as weak—she cleared her throat and came back into focus. Her leaf got placed back into her bag, rattling a few things with the entry of her hand before it lifted back out empty.

The boy’s joke landed perfectly, but now she had more questions. How could a rock be mistaken for a silver? What would a goblin buy? Was there a rich goblin out there that walked around dressed in finery? Did he dive into his horde and swim around in it? Still, she laughed. Don’t be awkward! “What game should I play first then?” Her head turned back eagerly toward the strange sight of the fair. Ears perked forward like they wanted to see whichever lucky activity was going to be chosen first. Which was ridiculous. Ears had no eyes. Or did they? She wanted to pull at her ears to check for herself. Like imagining spiders on you and the need to check. She snuck a glance at herself…just in case.

From where she stood, she could see the stations for ‘Guess that Goo!’ And ‘Frog Catch’ both caught her attention. But just as quickly as the interest came, the players participating made it immediately far less likely they would be her first choices. From gagging taste testers to frogs landing in clothes. ‘POP-A-SHROOM’ seemed simple enough to begin with. But she would see what the boy suggested first.

Drick nodded enthusiastically at her correct assessment, indeed she had made it, he thought to himself as his eyes flicked to the leaf invitation still in her hand. "Lots and lots of practice." he'd answer with a crooked little grin, "Also helps that goblins are, uhhh... Legendarily cheap, so options were limited."

He led Isoria past the entryway and into the fair proper, letting a hand settle on his hip as he took a satisfied look around. Things had come together better than expected, all things considered. The Bun’s laughter brought an even bigger smile to his face as his expression swelled with some pride. "Weeell!" he began to answer her second question with a little added theatrics, "Guess it depends what you're into."

Fredrick casually reached up and plucked a lingering rogue leaf from her curly hair, flicking it over his shoulder before he began to pace a slow circle around her, his hand stroked his chin in exaggerated thought. "Hmm... Let me seeee... Judgin' by your aura-" she was pretty cute, "-your energy-" no stranger to the forest at that, "-and of course your undeniable determination-" he made that up too, "-I'm gonna have to say Ring Toss. Definitely Ring Toss."

Fredrick spun on his heel and gestured toward the nearby stall. A set of colorful wooden stakes poked up from the ground, each painted in bright stripes and topped with tiny bells or carved animals, while a goblin with an oversized whistle lounged beside the stand, already half asleep. The game buzzed gently with nearby laughter and the occasional clink! of a ring hitting home. Drick was too busy staring at the nearly drooling goblin with a twitch in his eye to enjoy the laughter...

"Trust me." Drick turned back towards the Bun with renewed happiness and a wink. "It's a classic."

Her face scrunched in doubt. The scribbles on the leaf must’ve taken ages to perfect. Did they take more time doing that than they took putting up the fair? There were some obvious signs that in some places, its construction had been rushed. However, its appearance made it have more charm than the overly glossed over places of town celebrations. Full—but not too overcrowded. It was calming. In an odd hodgepodge kind of way.

Isoria slowed for just a moment, his hand reaching for leaves she wasn’t aware hitchhiked on her person. Her head turned to follow in silent question of his circling, but the rest of her stood still. Probably more stiff than what was necessary. Her fists tightened at the hem of her shirt, head tilting a bit up and snapping forward like she was about to be condemned. Ears perked up so straight they touched the side of their counterpart. Even the cotton of her tail stood ridged.

The fair still thrummed around her. Enough to remind her that she wasn’t getting plucked up to join some strange cult of Goblins where she’d have to walk on her knees and paint her face green. Why her mind tumbled in that direction was completely unknown. Once he completed his circle, she blinked up at him. “Ring toss?” She parrotted back. No—we are confiscating you to make you join the Goblin horde—or—You need to sell your soul to the greenies! “Ring toss! Of course! Of course…”

Isoria needed no prodding to move forward to follow. She couldn’t move fast enough to leave the embarrassment behind her. The game looked a lot easier than the players made it seem. How were they missing so badly? When she was close enough to watch, she had to agree with the goblins. Did they even try? She bent a bit forward and kept her feet planted, observing it all like it would offer up its own reason for looking so innocent yet impossibly…impossible.

Drick beamed as the Bun took his suggestion with seemingly not question, and he fell into a casual stride just a step behind her. With his hands laced behind his head, and his eyes flicking about to the various areas, Fredrick moved with a easy sway until he came up beside her once more. Like Isoria, he simply watched the game, casting a few checking glances her way.

"Don't worry, I'll show ya." He offered as his hands dropped to his sides and he stepped toward the goblin who was in the beginning stages of producing little Z's above his head. With a quick jab of his foot to the leg of the goblin's rickety stool, he stirred the creature awake. The goblin bawked, flailed, and then glared blearily up at the druid. The druid, in return, was clearly unimpressed as he stared back with flat expectancy and held out a palm.

The goblin grumbled something unintelligible but eventually slapped three colorful rings into the offered palm. Brightening again, Drick returned to Isoria's side. "It's pretty simple-" he began, "-just aim and toss."

He turned, drew back his arm to the side some, and sent the first ring flying. It landed with a satisfying clink! on one of the wooden stakes. The second followed suit, but the third bounced just a hair too high and slid off with a soft thud into the grass. "See?" he announced with a shrug and a grin. "You try to get all three, but sometimes the stakes are a little too high." That was a terrible joke.

Reaching into the satchel at his side, Drick pulled out a handful of small golden coins. They were very light despite the shine of them suggesting they should be otherwise. "You'll need these to play the games." he explained as he handed them over. "But don't worry, if you run out I've always got more."

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“Oh! I wanna try!”

The words erupted from Memey like a cork popping from a bottle—loud, bright, and entirely too excited to be contained. She was already at the ring toss booth, practically vibrating as she watched others try their luck. Her small hands gripped the edge of the booth’s short counter, body swaying with every bounce of her heels as she leaned forward, eyes locked on the game.

She was a whirlwind in human shape—barefoot, with soles smudged by grass and dust, and dark skin sun-warmed and freckled. Her pink hair stuck out in all directions, chopped short and utterly unbrushed, as though she had run straight through a bramble patch and hadn’t looked back. Her dress, once yellow, was now a canvas of the day’s adventures—streaked with dirt and jam, the hem fraying at the seams where the stitches had started to give up.

She had watched a man with fire-colored hair toss the rings—tilting forward after each successful shot, then deflating like a balloon when the last one scraped against a wooden stake and fell outside, marking it as a loss. He probably hadn’t noticed the child clinging to the booth like a barnacle while explaining the game to a newcomer.

Memey didn’t care. She was patient in the same way sugar is calm: just waiting to erupt.

“I’ve been here this whole time! Can I go after her? Or before her? Or with her?” She paused, then gasped like she had discovered something important. “Ooooh, wait—what if I win and she doesn’t? Can I have her prize too?”

Memey saw the shine of the golden coins and stilled like a deer. She didn’t have coins… but that was fine. She had better things.

She untied the pouch tied at her worn out belt and began pulling out her treasures one by one with great ceremony:

• Three four-leaf clovers, a little wilted from the heat.
  
• Two duck feathers, bent but still soft.
  
• A rock with googly eyes scribbled on—one of which smudged, leaving charcoal on her hand.
  
• A pair of broken keys that jingled with just enough mystery to be Important.
  
• And a chunk of bread so stale it could probably chip a goblin’s tooth.

“Do I need to pay?” she called up. “Will you take clovers? How many feathers for a ring? What if I throw the bread instead?”

But as she rambled, her gaze flicked back to the woman standing beside the co-host—the one being shown how to toss the ring.

Her breath hitched.

The woman was tall-ish. Fluffy hair. A lot of leaves in her clothes. But Memey didn’t care about any of that.

It was the ears.

Tall. Soft. Covered in velvety fur the color of chestnuts. They twitched, once, like they’d heard Memey’s very thoughts. That was it. Game forgotten. Clovers forgotten. Reality itself forgotten.

Memey stared with wide viridescent eyes.

Two full heartbeats passed before she moved again. Then, slowly—seriously—she stepped forward and lifted both her hands, presenting her treasures like a sacred offering to a forest spirit.

“If I give you a duck feather…” she asked, voice full of sincerity and nothing but sincerity, “can I pet your ears, miss?”

Drick's brows lifted as a lively bubbly voice piped up just behind him. He turned to lay his sights on the pink haired whirlwind of youthful energy, and a proud amused smile spread across his face. There was something contagious about the way she practically bounced with excitement and tossed out question after question with no pause for breath.

He released a soft chuckle as he watched with genuine delight as she began to pull useless treasure after useless treasure from her belt, each one more questionable than the last. He admired the sheer commitment and genuineness that only a child could really produce.

It wasn't long before the excitement had turned to wide eyed star struck amazement upon the adorable Bun. Completely understandable. Fredrick stepped slightly aside, needing to bite back another laugh when she blurted out a request to pet the Bun's ears. She was so earnest in her request that he had to cover his mouth as he cast a thoroughly amused glance toward Isoria. Ah, the earths's youth: Equally blessed at turning every moment into something awkward and absolutely amusing at the same time.

"Tell ya what, lil miss,-" Drick began as he leaned down, placing both hands on his thighs so they were more eye level, "-if you can guess the number I'm thinkin' of between 1 and 10, I'll give you all the coins to play that your hands can carry." Of course, it didn't matter what number she picked. He already decided to declare her right. Some kinds of magic were fit only for children.

Isoria nodded along while he spoke, her eyes watching the trail the ring took, each seemingly to their own path regardless of how he aimed. A finger rested under her chin while she observed. It was such a simple game. “Alright. Seems easy enough…” Peering into his hand opened to reveal coins—weirdly free?—taking them with a guilty reluctance. Strange little things they were. She rubbed one to examine the texture, about to turn but was stopped by voice claiming victory over Isoria’s winnings—or lack thereof. She turned so quickly that even her ears hadn’t caught up. Then she went from looking forward to looking down. A child?

A quick glance around said no one was seeking her out, but maybe this one was one of those responsible kids? Then she watched one random thing after another appear out of the bag, not able to help herself from shifting closer to look over the treasures. Her own curiosity tickled by the strange and unexpected. It truly looked like the kid had gone diving into a pile of discarded objects just to pick out the things that seemed relevant to keep. Isoria couldn’t blame her. She herself had a weird rock that looked like someone painted red. It had writing on the bottom like it had been used for a game—ahem!

Enough about that! She was looking upon a child’s wonders. Held in two small hands like they were the most impressive collection one could look upon. But then the rambling stopped and isoria’s eyes turned from the hands to the child’s face who was staring back with intent. Or rather up more toward her ears. Under sudden spotlight, they immediately dropped back shyly.

The Bun straightened, gave a very awkward smile that was too forced to be natural. Rounded teeth fronted proudly in her chompers and opened into a stuttered start. “T-Touch them?” Touch them?! She pulled at her own ears until one touched each red cheek. She looked to Drick briefly like he had the means to either talk her into, or out of, it. Then back at the kid. She didn’t mind really. She just hadn’t checked to see how dirty they might be. It would be embarrassing to have this one pet them and her hand come…back…dirty…—she was already dirty! What was she on about?!

But then she stepped forward, arms up and presenting. “I wouldn’t want to take such lovely things from you. Those are…too beautiful to be given away to a stranger.” Isoria bent slow and released her ears from her grip so they could spring back up with new life—new mission! Her head tilted down a bit, not that it was necessary, it just felt right. Should they be petted then she would stay still for however long it took for the child’s curiosity to be sated. Isoria was no stranger to the spur of the moment questions that no one cared to answer. Cared enough to think over why the question was asked rather than the importance of it. Texture was a form of learning. Babies did that when they were exploring the world—ever wonder why you know what something tastes like even though you could swear you never tried it?

For a moment, she smiled under the shadow of her tilted head. Smaller her would be proud. But! There was a game to win! Once she was free to do so, she’d pay for some rings of her own. “Alright!” She exclaimed with more bravery than her hands had. Never once playing this game could only give one so much confidence. Then they flew! Wildly! Without any ounce of fear their thrower had! Miss-miss-aaaand miss… Isoria’s mouth dropped open and her ear twitched like it was disappointed to be attached to her head. She could hear the goblin’s taunt. One she had previously agreed with now turned back on her! “S-Shut up! It was my first try!” She marched back over and slammed more coins down to get more rings.

Memey gasped.

The woman’s long bunny ears—which had already captivated her entire being—suddenly moved. Not just a little twitch, but folded and curled inward, pulled shyly in front of her face. The lady was hiding behind them!

Memey stared, utterly floored by that discovery.

They weren’t just soft. They were flexible?! That changed everything.

“Oh…”

Memey blinked, briefly remembering what they were talking about. The woman was right, of course. Her treasures were indeed too precious to be given away to total strangers. It had taken a full week to find the clovers with four leaves, and only one duck was kind enough to give her two feathers!

She nodded solemnly in agreement, momentarily cradling the clovers and feathers like a squirrel guarding its hoard.

But then Isoria leaned down, lowering her head just enough for Memey’s arms to reach.

And Memey completely forgot whatever it was she’d just been thinking about.

Her eyes lit up like lanterns.

With impressive coordination, she shuffled all her treasures into one hand, clutching them against her chest like a pirate clutching pearls, and reached out with the other after wiping it on her dress.

Her fingers met soft, springy fluff.

A delighted gasp burst out of her, followed by uncontrollable giggles. She buried her hand into the fur of one ear, testing its texture, its fluffiness, its life. She pet it gently at first—then with the sort of reverence reserved for baby animals and fresh pastries.

Then proceeded to do the same to the second bunny ear.

“So soft!” she squeaked. “Thank you, miss!” she remembered to say quickly, just as her mom had taught her.

Then, on impulse, she plucked one of her four-leaf clovers from her hand and tucked it into the base of Isoria’s curls, just beside the tall ear she’d petted. The green shimmered against the dark strands like it had always belonged there.

“I’m Memey! Let’s be friends!”

With that, the girl nodded with satisfaction: she had given a treasure not to a stranger, but to a friend as a thank you!

She turned then to the male voice by her side, surprised to find the fire-haired man now leaning down to meet her eye-to-eye. He looked like a giant who had temporarily shrunk just to meet her on equal ground.

Memey’s mouth dropped open at his proposal. It was the most incredible offer she’d heard all day. Maybe all year.

How many games would she be able to play?! Probably more than it was countable! (Twenty nine)

Quickly, she tucked all her treasures back into her pouch—except for one duck feather and one lucky clover. She gripped them like focus charms in each hand, narrowed her eyes, and took a deep, dramatic breath.

Then she shut her eyes close.

Total silence fell over her. Her brows furrowed. Her lips pursed in serious, wobbly concentration. Somewhere behind her, Isoria tossed a ring and missed. Somewhere ahead, dubious pies were being offered by a goblin. Memey noticed none of it.

She was busy.

Doing telepathy.

The number… the number was coming to her…

She sniffed once. Then twice. Because maybe numbers had a smell?

She turned her head slightly to the left. That felt like a “thinking” direction.

This was serious business.

Memey took one long inhale through her nose, then whispered, “Okay… okay, I think I’ve got it.”

She opened her eyes dramatically.

“Seven!”

She waited half a second. Blinked. And quickly corrected herself.

“No, wait—sparkly seven!”

She stood up straighter, visibly pleased with herself.

“…But also three. Just in case your brain changed its mind halfway through.”

She gave a solemn nod.

Then, more quietly—just to cover all her bases:

“…Or invisible ten.” Because there must be invisible numbers just like there are invisible fairies.

It was oddly heartwarming watching the Bun offer her ears so willingly to the curious child. Drick, meanwhile, found himself scratching just behind his own ear with a vague discomfort. He couldn't imagine letting anyone else touch his ears like that, and certainly not in public. Still, he wore a pleasant smile as the little girl gently reached out and touched them. Yeeeeeah, absolutely not. He could never... But at least it was sweet to watch in a way.

He kept that polite smile as Memey moved on, full of fierce determination now, her tiny face filled with concentration as she tried her best to guess his number between throws of the Buns increasingly tragic Ring Toss attempts. Drick had to bite back a chuckle, turning his sights toward Isoria's flabbergasted form with a glint of amusement in his eye, "Just takes some practice!" He called out to her with playful encouragement before returning his attention to the clearly, obviously, very psychic child in front of him.

And then came the guesses. The first number knocked the smile right off his face and filled it with what looked like genuine surprise. The second had his eyebrows inching closer together. He glanced down at the clover and feather filled fists with some suspicion, then quickly back up at her. Two more guesses, utterly nonsensical in that way that only made sense to children, and Drick's mouth hung open. "W-What?! No way! Ho-How'd you know that?!" he exclaimed, standing upright now with his performance of surprise as if she'd guessed every number, including the invisible 10 and the sparkly 7, correctly.

With a theatrical groan of defeat and a grin returning to his face, Drick dipped into his satchel and scooped out a hefty handful of golden coins. "Well, deals a deal! These're yours now." he said as he held them out towards her. "And hey, if you run out, just come find me for more." he added with wink.

The wholesome moment came to an abrupt halt at the sudden sound of the Goblin host screeching, "GET BACK HERE!"

Drick spun around, only to see the green menace charging after a poor fairgoer while brandishing the infamous measuring stick. His eye twitched as he released a short, despairing laugh. He glanced back to Memey and the Bun, offering them a bright, if only slightly strained, smile. "And remember to have fun!" he said quickly, before pivoting on his heel and jogging after the goblin. "Klonk! Put the stick down! Ya can't hit people for bein'suspiciously tall! How many times we gotta talk about this!" his voice faded behind him as he caught up and snatched the measuring stick mid swing.

Coming back with a new set of rings, she approached just as Drick claimed the child’s guesses to be right. An impossibly impressive feat in itself considering the absurdity of the numbers offered. But how absurd was it actually? Who said there couldn’t be invisible or even sparkly numbers? Why didn’t the person who had made digits make it that way to begin with? It certainly was more interesting. Still it raised a concerning question that made her look a bit more cautiously toward the child. Could she really and truly read minds? Had Isoria thought of anything recently that made her seem weird and unnaturally strange?

She had to refrain from thinking about how much she enjoyed carrots in cake—dang it! Now she was really going be looked at weirdly. Her eyes narrowed on the girl as if expecting Memey to call her out on it. ‘Rabbit lady is crazy for liking veggies in her cake!’ Isoria could see it now. Oh how humiliating! Still…the girl didn’t seem like she was gonna say anything. Or maybe it was a distance thing? Isoria siddled closer like she was being stealthy. She wasn’t. Ears tilted both to one side, crowding each other like they were fighting for room on one side of her head.

Leech toes. Blue trees. Corn ears? Nothing. Hmm. Maybe Memey was really REALLY good at hiding her reactions to the strange thoughts of others. “I’ll wait till you throw before I go again. I need to uh…I need to practice imagining my trajectory and uh…all that. Super complicated stuff you know?” She nodded and pretended to be really focused on the stakes. Thankfully, she didn’t have to watch the wooden poles long, Drick was leaving. Fast walking? Chasing the goblin now. Snatch. The stick wizard wand was taken away again. Isoria had been looking forward to seeing the creature cast something magical.