Wyvern Waits for Geld

[Wyvern]

Wyvern grumbles as he flips through the pages of three different newspapers for job offers, sitting at his overflowing desk and silently contemplating Madame Quixotic's predictions. The lizard maintained the notion that some horrible mistake must have been made in the crystal ball reading as the words of the withered seer echo hauntingly in his mind.

 

I see you finding GREAAAAAAT fortune in…… in serving your fellow man.

 

Impossible, he'd never bow down to anyone! Speeding the pace of his newspaper search at the very thought of working as an underling, the greedy Elder frantically looks for a good company to rip off in his listings...

 

You will also find rich wealth in… CHARITY!

 

Absurd, the very word was foreign to him! Clenching his teeth and pulling out another set of papers from underneath his desk, the overgrown lizard angrily slams them onto his desktop and continues searching.

 

A day soon will come, when you will find it in your best interest to donate your time, money and talents to a cause more important than you.

 

Ridiculous, there was no greater cause than money! And besides, there was nothing more important than himself either! Letting out an agitated growl and practically tearing the scales from his forehead in frustration, the overgrown lizard's eyes suddenly fall upon a small job offer listed on the bottom right-hand corner of a page of The Chronical. The offers words seem to dance before Wyvern's eyes, enticing him to read further:

 

Male Waiter needed for Annual Charity Ball

Job consists of serving fellow men their dishes in a courteous manner. The participant will be given 2 geld for the evenings work, plus will be able to keep any tip he recieves.

For more information: call the incantation code "Ashmin Alsim Nevera Baltok" at the nearest crystal ball. Ask for Ziggy.

 

Two geld seemed like such a measly amount, yet the job fit into the prediction of Madame Quixotic perfectly. Thoughts of massive amounts of wealth cause Wyvern to rub his scaly palms in anticipation as he breaks into a sinister grin. His happiness becomes momentarily clouded, however, as he reads over the first sentence of the offer again... Serving dishes in a "courteous" manner... While Wyvern considered himself quite a charming lizard, he knew that people didn't seem to consider courteousy one of his strong points. He would need to learn a few manners first if he hoped to be accepted for this job...

 

Rubbing his scaly chin in contemplation, Wyvern considers what pen member might be able to teach him a bit of courteousy while simultaneously paying the incantation bill for the call, since "Ashmin Alsim" incantations charged 50 mana per minute...

 

[Note: to be continued]

[Peredhil]

Peredhil sighed with annoyance and ran his fingers through his hair. There was nothing for it. He'd have to find someone to call for him. He didn't mind the expense, since Ashmin Alsim guaranteed message delivery throughout the multi-universes, but the difficulty of finding someone he could feel comfortable in asking to do a favor for him.

 

He really REALLY disliked bothering people for small things. There wasn't anyone he could think of that owed him any favors of this magnitude. The little things he did were usually because he couldn't NOT do them and still live with himself. At times literally - the failures of his past sometimes rose up and ceased him by the throat, choking him with tears until he could raise up defenses of current good deeds. He broke off and laughed at himself, the irony of selfish giving.

 

Wyvern. Win-win situation! He cared nothing of money, considering value of anything not living to be a delusion, while Wyvern valued trinkets like geld and jewels highly. He wouldn't be offended to be paid to send his message!

 

He set off toward Wyvern's office. On arrival, he spent a few minutes chatting up Door, and then Melba, as he waited for Wyvern's door to open.

[Wyvern]

Wyvern jumps out of his seat and quickly grabs a bag containing his belongings, rushing towards the exit of his office while still debating what pen member could possibly suite his needs. Slamming open his office door in an inconsiderate manner, the overgrown lizard's face brightens considerably as he's immediatly met by the familier form of Peredhil. The famous half elf politely clears his throat and chimes:

 

"Greetings-" .

 

"Peredhil!" interrupts Wyvern rudely, immediatly grabbing the Ancient Bard by his left arm and practically dragging him into the office "What a coincidence, I was just about to search for someone that might be able to help me out with a few things."

 

Peredhil frowns and casts Wyvern a wary glance.

 

"Wyvern, you know the Elder stance on your schemes..."

 

"Well that's just the thing" hisses Wyvern gleefully, snatching the paper with the job offer that he found and pointing a scaly finger at the small, boxed-in text. "This is no scheme, I want to get a job and politely work for other people for a total of two geld for the duration of a single evening."

 

Peredhil's eyes widen for a moment and his jaws briefly drops open before the shock passes and he politely regains his composure. So many words normally unassociated to Wyvern in the same sentence... "job," "work," "other people..."

 

"Politely...?" echoes Peredhil, glancing at Wyvern in a mixture of curiousity and disbelief.

 

"Yes." hisses Wyvern. "And that's the area where I might need a little help. I'm going to have to make a call on a "Ashmin Alsim" incantation and need a few manners in presenting myself to the recruiter Ziggy. You're a natural at this sort of stuff, Peredhil, you can save me here!"

 

With that, Wyvern grins and begins rummaging through his desk for a crystal ball as Peredhil considers his request. Turning to the concerned half elf from under a pile of leftover candywrappers and accumulated paperwork, the lizard hisses:

 

"So tell me Peredhil... is it politer to open a crystal ball conversation with 'hi, I'm interested in your money' or 'hi, that's a lovely hat and I'm interested in your money'?"

[Peredhil]

Taking the crystal ball away from Wyvern, Peredhil looks through the article for the catch. He looks a second time, trying to pretend he's Wyvern looking at the article, but starts to get dizzy at the reach.

 

"Waaait a minute Wyvern," Peredhil says, raising a hand, "Let me look this over, and then I'll pay for your call if you'll do my message first." At the magic words, "I'll pay", Wyvern suddenly goes silent, except for small back and forth twitches of his tail, and the "I smell money" twitch of his nose.

 

"Here's the message, here is the control number on one of my accounts - with exactly enough money in it to make two calls, and no links to any other account in my possession. The bank is just waiting for this account to close so IT can close. If the money isn't used, it will not accrue any interest or in any other way gain value." Wyvern scratches his itchy nose absently with one claw as he looks in vain for the flaw. He and Peredhil had been working together for quite some time now, but when it came to money, his hope welled eternally.

 

"Now, this gig isn't for a few days. I'm going to be busy, but I can have Elladan start your training, "if he's not serious, that should weed this scheme out" he thought to himself, and then I can take over. What do you say?"

[Wyvern]

"Sounds good to me!" chirps Wyvern. "Unless of course there's a fee connected to the politeness lessons... or if the call you want me to make is to a celebrity like Ja Rule."

 

Peredhil grins and politely shakes his head as a response. It seemed that Wyvern really was serious about getting this job, though the half elf was certain in his wisdom that there had to be some alternative motive behind his wanting it.

 

"Oh, another thing!" blurts Wyvern. "These politeness lessons would have to be a slightly abridged version of the normal course, since the night of the Annual Charity Ball is not too far off."

 

Peredhil considers this and frowns.

 

"How abridged, exactly...?

 

"Welll..." hisses Wyvern "Considering that the Ball is a couple of days from now, and that I need to call and apply, shop around for a cheap waiter outfit to rent, and sort through all of the urgent tax documents that remain in my office... I would say that the most reasonable option would be to cram the entire politeness course into one two hour session."

 

Peredhil's face goes blank.

 

"One... two hour... session? Wyvern, I honestly don't know how much you can be taught in that small amount of-"

 

"Awwww, don't worry about it Peredhil!" interrupts Wyvern rudely, belching a few flames before continuing. "I'm certain Elladan can handle it, he's an energetic lad!"

 

Peredhil contemplates this silently, slightly concerned with Elladan's health should he attempt to tackle such a monumental task.

 

"Oh, by the way..." hisses Wyv. "What incantation would you like for me to call for you?"

[Peredhil]

"Two hours!?" Peredhil exclaimed, looking Wyvern up and down with dismay. This was a definite fixer-upper project. Elladan would end up trying to exclude anything which didn't fit "Polite" with time constraints like this. "I'm going to have to do this myself."

He handed Wyvern a parchment and read the almost dragon's expression with practiced ease. "No, the account number is only for two calls - and one has to go to my haberdasher. The name is on the page. The message to give them is on their too. And they already know about you and you can't use credit or charge anything to my account.

The second call can be to whomever you like." He paused to ensure understanding, and then continued doubtfully, "I'll be back at sunset to begin your make-over. Try to be dressed in something suitable."

 

Wyvern's grin was less than reassuring. Peredhil snapped his fingers in sudden thought.

 

"I've got it!" Stepping to the doorway of the waiting room, he addressed Melba, "Melba dear, would you do me a favor please? I'm going to try to help Wyvern learn manners; could you make sure he's dressed nicely by sundown? Do what it takes..."

 

Ignoring Melba's sudden sharklike smile and Wyvern's yelp of surprise, Peredhil said goodbye to Door and hurried away.

[Wyvern]

"No!" cries Wyvern frantically, his scaly face paling as Melba closes in. The Almost Secretary's pudgy hands tighten a tie into the form of a noose as she grins evilly and growls:

 

"Here lizard lizard lizard... don't be shy, this will only take a moment. Then, you'll be bound up and gagged in a tux for the rest of the day while I test different recipes of matza ball soup on your immobile form! Eat eat eat, greedy boychick!"

 

Wyvern stutters and shrieks as Melba pounces at him with the tie, barely dodging her grip and scurrying under his desk as she attempts put him into a suit. Crawling out on the other side of his desk and making a dash for the Office exit, Melba attempts to stop him by means of her martial art training in the arts of Tuxedo Sling Fu. Spinning the finely ironed pants she holds above her head in a professional manner, she tosses them at Wyvern and accidentally gets them caught on the lizard's head.

 

"Aiiiiiiie!" cries Wyvern as he dashes out of the office blindly, desperatly trying to pull the pants from off of his head as he careens down the hall. Hearing Melba's footsteps approaching behind him, the overgrown lizard settles for simply unzipping the pant zipper in front of his face so that he can see what's ahead of him in for a quicker escape. Unfortunatly, he finds that Melba is also well-versed in the art of Belt Olympics, as she uses the belt of the suite like a bola and slings them around his legs before he's gotten too far.

 

Whimpering helplessly and crawling forward as best as he can on the ground without the use of his legs, the lizard grows more and more distressed as he hears the Almost Secretary's footsteps growing closer and closer...

[Melba]

The sight of Wyvern with the two knife-edged creased pantlegs sticking up off his head like angled panels, as he fled down the Hallway "Oy," came the sub-thought interruption, "I'm going to give Door SUCH a polishing for letting him out so easily!" reminded Melba oddly of her thirty-second husband, who'd been an Inquisitor in Spain. When he was alone in his chambers, he'd dress like a damsel complete with wimpole and corset.

 

She'd never really liked him, but what was an actual witch to do in such troubled times? Marry the law-enforcer, of course. With a practiced flick of her heavily bangled wrists, she flung the belt in strict accordance with Tuxedo Sling Fu and Belt Olympics. "Too bad no one is here to note my correct form. Freddy would've been proud of teaching me he would've! Such a marvelous dancer and dresser," she sighed, "funny how no one noticed that shikseh Ginger was doing everything Freddy did, plus backward and in high heels."

"But isn't that the way of the world? A chazer bleibt a chazer?" she finished aloud.

 

Bending agily for all her rolls "And who wants a skinny Twiggy to cut yourself on her hips or shoulderblades?" she easily tucked Wyvern under one arm, resting him on her hip, and sauntered back into the office.

 

"Now MR. Wyvern, that lovely well-dressed and so sad, probably a faigeleh, but who else could be so safe around all these women? I'll bet they're all chasing Brute trying to sow that manly man's wild oats Polite Peredhil, like you couldn't use some lessons?" She fell silent ignoring his struggles and how his stubby wings beat futily at her resiliently padded sides as she remembered that Wyvern was trying to learn some manners. "And what's with the sudden manners scheme? If you break Mr. Peredhil's heart trying to use him..."

 

She stopped at Wyvern's scream of fear. She was used to translating screams in her presence, and spoke the language well. This one sounded like it meant either, "no more of your fantastic food," or "remember, I'm the boss and I have to make his phone calls!"

 

At her approach, Door silently opened for her. They'd had THAT little tussle out when she first moved in to help. Door reminded her in a way of her seventy-eighth husband, so what was his name again?

 

She hitched up Wyvern on the curves of her hip and went inside his office to get him ready.

Edited November 22, 2003 by Melba

[Peredhil]

When Peredhil came back that evening, Wyvern was impeccably turned out in a wide-lapelled tuxedo from which his wings escaped through cleverly hemmed slits. His horns carefully framed a small round hat with a silk band just above it's slightly curved edges, a crisp bowtie set off his white shirt. In fact, he looked a bit like a miserable Almost Stan Laurel.

The thought made Peredhil's lips twitch as he automatically put Melba into Ollie Hardy's role, but he was too wise to frame such a concept aloud. He knew his limitations!

 

"Good evening Miss Melba, Sainted Bardic Elder Wyvern. May I say how lovely you both look?" He noted that while Melba graciously returned the greeting, Wyvern looked frantic and as though he wanted to either try the window again or vomit. Peredhil stepped slightly to the side in case of the latter, which let him see the deeply gouged claw marks around the window's frame. Rapidly reviewing his hurried parting words earlier, he mentally winced in sympathy for the twitching Elder.

 

"So," he continued brightly, "I see you're ready. Did you make the calls?"

 

Wyvern nodded numbly, trying not to sufficate himself on the bowtie. Perhaps it was tied a bit too tightly? Melba smiled a toothy grin and nodded assurance to Peredhil that all was copacetic. "I guess we'd better move off to some place quieter so we don't disturb Melba with her many unrecognized labors."

 

Ignoring Melba's pout of disappointment, he stepped forward and took Wyvern's hand. Wincing at the death-grip tightness and relaxations of Wyvern's grip and puzzled at what message Wyvern intended with his Almost-Morse-coded frantic message, he Portalled the both of them to one of the many rooms off the Cabaret.

 

"So here we are! Pismo Beach and all the clams you can eat!" Wyvern missed the obscure quote and started clawing at his bowtie, but froze as Peredhil quietly said, "If you ruin the look, I'll have to let Melba fix it." Ignoring the tears gathered at Wyvern's eyes, for he'd seen Wyvern cry over a penny dropped between floorboards beyond retrieval, he loosed the bowtie for him. The bluish tinge to his scales faded quickly as he inhaled sweet air.

 

"Right. Listen carefully as we haven't much time. No! Don't write on your shirt sleeve! You can do this!" They both paused as they heard those words applied to one of Wyvern's schemes, but Peredhil blithely pushed on with relentless cheer.

 

"I've taken the liberty of enchanting these cufflinks with Butling skills, but you'll have to learn to work with them, not fight them. Jeeves you'll never be, but then, I'm no Bertie Wooster." Wyvern was looking around for an exit, but Peredhil'd carefully pictured a Cabaret side-room that had no doors.

 

"Now, if you're going to earn a lot of tips, you'll have to pay with attention now." At the word 'tips', Wyvern's head whipped around like an anti-missile system seeking a target-lock, and he smiled with oily charm, his attention fully in the room for the first time.

 

"You serve from the left, and never lift a glass of water or milk to refill them..."

Peredhil began a cram session of l33t Butler ski11z, constantly mentioning the money Wyvern could earn to keep him motivated. After a bit of broken crockery, Wyvern began working with the cuff-links and learning how to let them prompt him. Peredhil could tell that Wyvern was calculating their resale value as he learned just how useful they were. He didn't bother to mention the enchantment's duration. It should EASILY last until after the Annual Charity Ball.

 

Slightly more than two hours after they'd begun, the Door to the Recruiting Office waiting room opened with a bang.

 

"Good evening Melba. For a cow-whale, you look very nice this evening." While Peredhil reminded Wyvern not to actually SAY the descriptive part, Melba passed out in shock at hearing Wyvern with manners...

even of a sort. Moments later, she came to consciousness hearing Peredhil say, "I'm sure you'll do just fine. Practice practice practice between now and the Ball. But don't over-use the You-Know-Whats! You might exhaust them!!

You'll be amazed at how valuable these new people skills will be in getting people not to run at the sight of you.

 

When Wyvern nodded smoothly, reached out and adjust Peredhil's tie and flicked some lint off one shoulder with ninja-like Butler grace, she passed out again.

 

Wyvern shouted Polite thanks after the hurrying Half-Elf and turn after Peredhil had left. When he saw the pacifying effect his charade was having on Melba, his laugh was short and almost gloating. Repressing the revealing laugh was a huge effort and he quivered inside as he moved deftly into his office, letting the cuff-links lend him grace.

 

 

The sudden golden gleam to his eyes and the predatory edge which crept into his smile would've gone far to reassure Melba that she wasn't hallucinating, but she wasn't conscious to receive their familiar warning...

[Wyvern]

Wyvern clears his throat of a few ashes and adjusts his tie in an agitated manner, slowly marching towards the Annual Charity Ball and ready to put all of Peredhil's helpful advice to use. As the lizard walks, he practices numerous techniques that the polite ancient had taught him, including saying phrases like "spa-... errr... thank you" and bowing without letting his tail fly upward at a 72 degree angle. The overgrown lizard hadn't quite mastered the latter technique yet, but was confident that he was fully prepared for a night of thorough waiting. If that old fortune teller hag's predicition turned out to be correct, great geld and fortune were now within his reach.

 

Wyvern arrives at the enormous, decoratively lighted building of the Annual Charity Ball, and smiles as he stares up at the sign spanning the upper wall of the mansion. As the overgrown lizard reads over the sign, he freezes in place while the polite smile plastered on his face suddenly loses all of it's happiness. Squinting his eyes to make sure he's reading correctly, the lizard whispers to himself:

 

Annual Charity Ball for Innocent Kittens Abused Under Almost Dragonic Inc. Experimentation...

 

Wyvern stutters nervously to himself and jumps as he notices a bearded halfling in a formal waiter uniform approaching him. Quickly glancing back at the sign, then at the halfling again, the reptilian Elder thinks fast and tosses on a fake moustache and pair of googly eye glasses that he always kept in case of emergencies.

 

"Hi." mutters the formally dressed halfling. "I'm Ziggy, head of the waiters at this Charity Ball, nice to meet you. I take it you're our new waiter for the evening, correct?"

 

Wyvern whimpers silently and slowly nods.

 

"Well nice to meet you, and thanks for taking the job. I realize that 2 geld is not much for an evening's work. Now let's see here... your name is pronounced 'Weevern," correct?"

 

Wyvern stutters and considers this for a moment, then decides that it's best to nod in the affirmative for his own personal health.

 

"Excellent, please follow me. Brilliant dress-up by the way, those googly eye glasses are sure to be a crowd pleaser! Oh, before I forget, toss on one of these."

 

Ziggy hands Wyvern a pin that reads "The Best Almost Dragonic Product is a Sued One," which almost causes the lizard to faint. Fortunatly, Wyvern manages to regain his composure and jitters nervously as he follows Ziggy through a back door into the kitchen of the Ball.

 

"So listen..." mutters Ziggy as he leads Wyvern through the kitchen. "The three main courses you'll be serving this evening are Wyvern-must-die souflee, Greedy Lizard a la flambe, and Lawsuite and Attorney Contract Stew. Remember: the theme of the evening is hatred towards Almost Dragonic Inc., so be sure to act genuinely spiteful and venomous towards anything even remotely related to that corporation."

 

Wyvern gulps and jerks his head up and down in a nervous nod, slently praying for survival.

[Wyvern]

Wyvern bites his scaly lip nervously and adjusts the pin on his suite, approaching a chef wearing an "I H8 Wyvern" smock and a large hat lined with kitchen knives. The terrified lizard extends his trembling claws as the chef hands him a flaming platter of "Greedy Lizard a la Flambe" and points towards the door leading into the dining room.

 

"This is for table four, get it to'em and make it quick. There're a lot more platters where that one came from."

 

Wyvern quickly nods to this and begins heading towards the entrance of the dining quarters, not noticing the flames of the dish he carries as they burn straight through the enchanted Butling cufflinks Peredhil had endowed him with.

 

Stepping into the enormous central dining room of the charity ball, Wyvern chokes and immediatly considers turning back as he notices the decorations present throughout the chamber. Numerous cat haikus had been framed along the walls, and a trashcan in the shape of Wyvern with an open mouth to stuff trash into rests at each corner of the room. Floating near the brightly lit ceiling amongst colorful balloons and streamers is a gigantic cute kitten balloon, which has an inflated Wyvern doll clutched in the fangs of its mouth.

 

Stuttering to himself and bravely summoning all the willpower he can muster, Wyvern strides into the room and rapidly makes his way to his assigned table with the Greedy Lizard a la Flambe platter. Nearing table four, the overgrown lizard begins hearing the haughty voices of nobles chatting there.

 

"I still think that we're overdoing it." mutters a whiney voice

 

"Why nonsense!" exclaims a more upbeat voice. "How could you say such a thing Alfred? This Wyvern fellow has abused more poor little kittens than I have geld in my money pouch."

 

"I still say it's overdone." responds the whiney voice. "I mean, certainly the greedy lizard is not to be admired, but that's no reason to devote an event to his suffering."

 

"Think of the kittens Alfred..." comes another voice. "The kittens."

 

At that moment, Wyvern arrives at the table and clumsily slips on a part of the rug, accidentally losing control of his platter and sending the Greedy Lizard a la Flambe flying directly into Alfred's lap. The whiney nobleman screams as his fancy trousers suddenly catch fire and jumps from the table, running around in circles until the pricey pantolons he wears are reduced to a pile of cinders and his "Wyvern is a cheater" boxer shorts are showing. Deeply blushing and wildly cursing, the infuriated nobleman quickly rushes to the nearest bathroom while Wyvern stands frozen, silently cursing at his clumsiness and quickly trying to think up an apology for the disaster.

 

Remembering Peredhil's manner lessons, Wyvern immediatly recalls rule #456392 - "If you make a fatal mistake in manners, there is no error that a thorough apology cannot fix." The gears in Wyvern's mind slowly turn, using every politeness gadget they have to offer, until he finally manages to hiss:

 

"Don't worry... the dish will still be edible if you eat it off of the floor on your knees."

 

The noblemen all stare at Wyvern in silent shock, and the overgrown lizard's lip trembles. This couldn't be a good sign...

 

"Well..." continues Wyvern. "I mean, the pigs can do it, so so can you. Errr... that is to say, your friend certainly has fashionable boxer shorts. Well, aside from the Wyvern remark on them, I mean..."

 

Wyvern winces at his lack of genuinely nice things to say and slowly begins backing away when suddenly, an uproar of laughter from the nobles at the table catches him off guard. Cleaning out his ears out with a Q-tip to make sure he's hearing correctly, Wyvern raises a brow as a noble exclaims:

 

"Good show, my fellow, good show! Alfred deserved every bit of the embarassment for defending that cad Wyvern, and it was excellently executed. Plus, those googly eye glasses suite you nicely! Please accept this small tip."

 

With that, the nobleman hands Wyvern a check for one hundred thousand geld. The lizard's eyes slowly read over the check, and widen in disbelief.

 

"Now then gentlemen." continues the nobleman while laughing. "Shall we?"

 

With that, the noblemen all laugh and nod, lifting themselves from their table and getting on their knees in order to eat the Greedy Lizard a la Flambe off of the ground like pigs. Wyvern's jaw drops open in disbelief, and he stands there several minutes in awe before gleefully pocketing the check and heading back to the kitchen. He certainly wasn't complaining if the noblemen enjoyed eating farm animal style, and there were many more tables to serve...

[Wyvern]

Two hundred spilled dishes, five hundred gales of laughter, three hundred googly eyeglass compliments, and two hundred and fifty extremely generous tips later...

 

Wyvern cackles to himself contently as he wipes a bit of Lawsuite and Attorney stew from off of his scaly claws, having accidentally tripped and caused the dish to go flying straight into a rude nobleman's face in his last instant of "catering." As usual, however, the noblemen at the table had found the incident extremely amusing...

 

"Why look at you Jobe!" one of them had cracked while others desperatly tried to keep their wine inside of their noses. "Your investments must have finally paid off, as it seems that your Lawsuite and Attornies have got you covered!"

 

This comment proved to be too much for the noblemen containing their wine, who practically choked as they spat the red liquid at each other in hysterical laughter. Wyvern grinned from horn to horn at the incident... it had almost been as fun to watch as the formal gunfight that had broken loose at table twenty seven after he had dropped the Wyvern-must-die souffle he was carrying onto a nobleman's left toe...

 

Wyvern's thoughts are suddenly interrupted as he feels a tap on his shoulder.

 

"Weevern..." mutters Ziggy from behind the reptilian waiter "It's time for you to head out, as it looks like the regular staff has some serious cleaning up to do around here. I want to thank you for your services this evening..."

 

The formally-dressed halfling cringes as a table is turned over, and swiftly ducks as half a plate of "Greedy Lizard a la Flambe" is tossed from one table to another. After the cheers and raucous laughter of noblemen have died down, the formally-dressed halfling hesitantly lifts himself from the floor and reaches into his pockets for two geld to hand to the overgrown lizard. Extending a trembling hand with the geld pieces, Ziggy's jaw drops in surprise when Wyvern shakes his head and lets out a haughty laugh.

 

"No no..." hisses Wyvern gleefully while feeling the countless checks that added up to billions of geld in his pockets. "You can keep the two geld, I don't think I'll be needing it when all's said and done."

 

Ziggy raises a brow at the lizard, then mutters:

 

"Are you sure, Weevern? I'd feel kind of guilty..."

 

"Positive!" exclaims Wyvern, gleefully coming to the realization that he's officially filthy rich. "I couldn't be bothered with such a petty sum of geld, after all. Taa taa!"

 

With that, the overgrown lizard lets out a gale of triumphant laughter and dashes out of the Ballroom as fast as his scaly legs can carry him, narrowly avoiding the giant kitten balloon as it's popped by a stray platter and comes tumbling down upon those dining in the hall. Wyvern leaves the Charity Ball without a second glance, rapidly making his way back to his Mighty Pen abode and grinning at the notion that the crazy Quixotic hag might be onto something after all... In his excitement, the second half of the fortune teller's prediction completely slipped the lizard's mind...

[Wyvern]

In Wyvern's Pen sleeping quarters the next morning, at the break of dawn...

 

Wyvern grumbles and shifts under the covers of his messy bed, slowly pulling his dirty money bag sheets over his head in the hopes of drowning out the faint sounds that had awoken him. Finding this strategy ineffective, the overgrown lizard proceeds to cram his scaly head into his pillow as best as he can in the hopes of getting rid of the noises, but then suddenly sits up in bed as he recalls the events of the previous evening. A brief moment of panic siezes the reptilian Elder as he questions if the entire episode had been nothing more than a dream, and he immediatly searches his pajama pockets to make sure that the tip checks are still there and in tact. The greedy lizard sighs in relief when he feels the familiar ruffle of the checks that signify his filthy richness, and leans back in his bed, grinning and thoroughly awake.

 

Thoughts of things to do with the all the money race through the lizard's mind and cause him to smile from horn to horn, sparking visions of numerous potential fantasies that could be realized. He could pay off his enormous debts, buy one of those special Signe massages he always wanted, purchase a mansion with a dollar-sign shaped pool, bribe Orlan into hanging out with him so he could look cool, and finally get Ja Rule to shut up amongst other things. The material wealth, the women, the power... it was all there. And best of all, he could count his money... all... day... long!

 

Wyvern barely manages to hide a squeal of delight as he sits up in his bed once again, savoring the taste of his realized ambitions and glancing out of the windows of his room with an entirely new perspective of the world. The slanting rays of dawnlight that entered the chamber shined like a finely polished geld piece, the chirps of the birds outdoors were like an uber-expensive nature recording tape, the light Spring breeze was like a peacock feather fan waving in his direction, the resounding sounds of artillery cannons were like trumpets announcing his arrival, the...

 

The resounding sounds of artillery cannons?!

 

Wyvern suddenly jumps out of bed as an enormous cannonball smashes straight through the window he was glancing out of, ricocheting off of his ceiling and cupboards and somehow managing to hit and demolish every fragile object to be found in his chamber in the process. The overgrown lizard's jaw drops in horror and he immediately rushes out of his room into the halls of the Pen, only to find several Pen members running around in confusion, still wearing their sleeping gowns and shouting to one another. Upon spotting Wyvern, a night-cap clad Ozymandias races up to the lizard and begins violently shaking him by his scaly shoulders, demanding:

 

"Wyvern, the Pen is under attack! What the heck did you do this time?!"

 

"Th-the Pen is-?" stammers Wyvern, frantically glancing left and right. "W-wait, what makes you think I-?"

 

Ozymandias simply scowls and picks up a cannonball from off of the floor, pointing to the phrase "WYVERN SUX0RZ" that happens to be scrawled in red across it's surface. The lizard immediately pales upon seeing seeing these words.

 

"Tell me Wyvern!" cries Ozymandias as the ground trembles under his feet, shaking the lizard by the shoulders with all of his might. "TELL ME!!!"

 

"B-b-bu-buh-buh-buh, I-"

 

The overgrown lizard's response is interrupted as a gigantic wooden kitten on wheels crashes straight through the Pen's main entrance, the words "TROJAN KITTY CAT" embedded on the front of it's chest. Ozymandias, Wyvern, and the rest of the Mighty Pen that has gathered in the hall gape in horror as a part of the Kitty's head opens and a scrawny man wearing only his "Wyvern is a cheater" boxer shorts steps out of it.

 

"We're doomed" says Ozymandias flatly.

 

"Attention, my dear fellows at the Mighty Pen." declares the man from his position on top of the wooden Cat, a furry microphone amplifying his whiney voice throughout the hall. "I, Alfred Von Spoiledbratmoneyinmeface the Second, was most shamefully offended by a waiter by the name of Weevern at last night's Annual Charity Ball, and lost my very favorite pair of pantalons in a fire that he created. Since I have no idea where to find this Weevern person, however, I have decided to instead focus my vengeance on that cad Wyvern, who I am to understand rests in these halls."

 

Alfred pauses for a moment in order to take a quaint sip from the cup of tea that he holds in his other hand, then continues:

 

"I have brought with me an army of kitten fanatics, who will gladly sacrifice themselves to fill these halls with the deadly odor of poisonous catnip and bring this establishment to the ground. Since I am such a gentleman, however, I will provide you with an alternative option. If you can pay me exactly five billion, seven hundred million, two hundred and eighty thousand, five hundred and two geld for a new pair of fine pantalons, I will halt this siege and retreat out of good nature."

 

Ozymandias' jaw drops at the huge figure of money demanded while a Pen member near a door wails at the impossible sum. Wyvern simply fidgets in his position, his eyes placid, his thoughts turning to the rest of Quixotic's prediction while his claws lean towards the checks in his pockets. The reptilian Elder now realized what he had to do.

 

Holding out the checks in front of the enormous Trojan Kitty Cat, the lizard sadly hisses:

 

"Will you accept checks?"

 

Alfred pauses for a moment, then puts on a pair of high-power spectacles and examines the checks from his position.

 

"Why yes, my good sir... though you'll have to spend time rewriting all of them to me, and you appear to be two geld short in your final sum."

 

Wyvern cringes at this last remark, his scaly lips trembling as he turns to the others that have gathered in the hall and softly asks:

 

"... does anyone have two geld I could borrow?"

 

(OOC: thus concludes Madame Quixotic's prediction for Wyvern. This story could technically end with that last sentence... but if any folks want to make any final posts to conclude the thread, they are certainly encouraged to do so!)