Imagine if you were

[Patrick]

We all have our characters we like to play, enjoy playing, but I sometimes feel that it is really interesting to try out something new, so I propose a, hopefully fun, activity. I shall propose a character and a situation he/she is in, and then anyone can have a try at roleplaying that character in that situation. After a given amount of time has passed I shall choose, which interpretation of the character I liked best, and the person who wrote that interpretation gets to pose the next challenge, in which he/she poses a character in a situation, etc...If that is a bit vague, then just ask and I'll give clarifications.

 

And now, without further ado I present you with the first challenge!

 

The character to play is:

 

Peter Westson is a thirty-three year old lumberjack, who has lived alone most of his adult life, in his shack in the middle of the woods, his only contact with the outer world being, when he went into town on his wooden cart, pulled by his trusted companion, Grazer, the mule, to sell the wood he chopped, in exchange of foodstuffs and miscellaneous items he needed.

 

The situation the character has to be roleplayed in is:

 

Two weeks ago, after nine years of faithful service, Grazer passed away. Still mourning his loss, Peter had gone into town, by foot, to buy a replacement mule. He was directed to Maria's stables, where he met Maria, aged 27, a widow, with a three year old son. She had been the proprietor of the stables ever since her husband died seventeen months ago. Peter had fallen into love at first sight, and now, two days after having bought the new mule, he has gone back to the stables again, to meet Maria for a second time.

 

 

The way the story continues from here can be different for everyone, who wants to take part. I was purposefully quite vague about the situation, and didn't mention any physical characteristics, so as to let your imaginations run wild.

 

After some discussion in IRC, if someone wants to be able to interact, then I can play the characters you would want to interact with.

Edited January 29, 2006 by Patrick Durham

[Patrick]

And some more clarification after a couple of questions I was asked:

 

You can choose whether you want to play the scene out in just one post, or in several. If you choose to go with just one post I suggest doing it here in this thread. If you choose to go with several creating its own thread, and just adding a link in this thread would be the best idea. I'd be happy with both.

[Sweetcherrie]

Birds sang in the trees, and Peter happily whistled along. Today he would see Maria again, and he might even ask her out. His thoughts went back to her long copper hair, and her rank hands that had become rough because of the hard work in the stables. Those hands had never been made for work like this. They should be lovingly caring for her son…and possibly for some other children.

 

For the first time in his life Peter daydreamed about kids of his own. Never before had he felt this much for a woman. Somehow they always managed to bore him within the first five minutes. Of course he was no virgin, but having sex with a woman and having feelings were two totally different things in his opinion, and Maria was stirring quite some feelings!

 

He entered town and had to hold himself back or he would’ve hop-skipped through town like the next best jester. The heavy door of the stables seemed to open lightly today, and Peter walked in.

 

As his eyes fell on Maria his heart jumped; she simply was the most amazing woman he had ever seen. She was greasing a saddle and copper curls had come lose from her ponytail. The sun fell through the top windows and it was as if she was an angel with a red-golden halo. Her hands shone from the leather grease, but Peter still thought they were the most caring hands in the world.

 

He cleared his throat, “Err…hello.”

 

She looked up, and her dark-brown deer eyes seemed to look straight into his heart. Her face lit up and turned into a smile, and Peter thought he would have to hold his heart down with his hands before it would jump out and run towards her to offer itself to this goddess.

 

“How’s the mule?”

 

“The what?”

 

She laughed. Her laugh was warm and sensual and enveloped him like velvet.

 

“The mule you bought two days ago?”

 

“Oh. Fine, just fine.”

 

Say something you idiot. You sound like a mumbling fool, what on earth will she think of you?

 

“You’re a nice mule, Shit! I mean you have nice mules…I err…” stupid, stupid, stupid!

 

“Can I help you with something?”

 

Think fast!...and please say something witty

 

“I would like to have a look at a saddle.”

 

“Are you planning on riding that mule?”

Her voice sounded surprised, and with right. Nobody rode mules around here; horses were for riding, mules were for working.

 

“Yes. I mean no, I also wanted to have a look at your horses.”

 

Her smile was dazzling. Maybe if she would be slightly less amazing he would be able to think straight, but he wasn’t. He had no need for a horse, but she walked towards the stables, and like a loyal dog he followed.

 

She had two riding horses at the moment, but all he could look at was how her mouth moved when she spoke. He heard himself saying yes and no, and maybe, and before he knew it he was outside again.

 

The spell was broken and the fresh air cleaned out the last bit of the enchantment. He thought back about all he had said, and came to the conclusion that he had bought a horse, and that he would come in two days to pick it up. Peter scratched his head, and then shrugged. At least he would be able to try speaking to Maria again.

 

Whistling he started on his walk back home, and let his mind stray over her blond hair and lush lips.

[Patrick]

Erm....Anyone else want to have a go at this?

[Tanuchan]

I would, but I'm currently holding a bit too much... I'll see what I can do, but can't really promise anything.

[Gwaihir]

Peter woke up early that morning and put on his good shirt. It had been a couple days so this seemed the right time to go put a make on that gorgeous woman from the stables. As he ate breakfast there was cheer in his heart and the garden looked healthier than usual. As he pushed back his chair he looked at the sun--it was still too early to go over to see Maria.

 

He strolled off to the garden figuring he'd water the tomatoes, since it had been two weeks since then last rain. He puttered a bit with the plants but of course that got him dirty. As he went inside to wash up he had an idea. The girl before last had left a mirror here. It might be clever to check himself over. He rummaged through a pile of frippery. Mm, they smelled like her and she'd been a nice piece of meat. Pretty crazy about him too, if he remebered right. Yep, there the mirror was and D-mn but he was a good lookng man. No wonder the girls are so crazy about me he chuckled.

 

The walk to town was beautiful. It was sunny and warm but still late spring so it wasn't quite hot yet. The flowers were blooming, too and Peter was only three steps away from a small brown rabbit before it took its head out of a tuft of grass and fled. The birds whistled and Peter tried to harmonize.

 

As he strolled through town, Peter smiled at the butcher and winked at the butcher's wife...but not too broadly; it wouldn't to have her come hang on him as he was going to see the beautiful Maria.

As he slid through town he was sure that six women smiled just for him but most importantly so did Maria.

 

"How's the mule?" she smiled

 

"Oh, stunning" he smirked and he wasn't looking at her face.

 

"Well..." she seemed a bit discomfitted he thought. Probably was shy.

 

"No need to be scared, sexy. I'm here to tell you that I'm taking you out to Gorgonzola's.

 

"Ha Ha How..."

 

She seemed even more disturbed now, he thought but he knew why. Gorganzola's was the most expensive restaurant for miles around and probably a stable-woman like her just wasn't used to class.

 

He winked and broke in on her sentence. "Don't try to talk, lovie. There'll be a long time to discuss it all tonight.

 

She took a deep breath and composed herself. "Thank you very much, but I have a date already."

[Sweetcherrie]

 

Great post Gwai!

[Appy]

"Oh, hello again. I hope there´s nothing wrong with the mule, is there?"

 

Peter stopped in the doorway and stared at the floor.

 

"I´m not sure," he mumbled, "maybe you should have a look at it?" He shuffled his feet and looked at everything but Maria.

 

"Well, if you have treated him as well as you did Grazer, he should be fine. But maybe it´s been eating something in the forest that it shouldn´t have.. I´ll come with you in a moment, just let me finish feeding the horses."

 

With that, she walked away with the wheelbarrow, leaving Peter to stand in the doorway.

 

Peter looked around a bit more now, and noticed a little boy staring at him from a corner.

 

"Uhm, hello there littl´un." The boy continued staring.

Peter scraped his throat and looked around his shoulder at the road he had come down. Nothing stirred in the moist summer heat.

He looked back to where the boy was. Had been. He wasn´t there anymore.

 

Maria walked around the back and waited for Peter to join her.

"I hear you met my youngest." She said, as they walked down the path to his cottage. Peter nodded, and mumbled something about how he looked healthy.

Maria sighed. "Healthy in body he is, but he´s hardly ever spoken since my husband passed away. And even less since you bought Puller of´f me. Those two had been friends y´know, but he was the only mule left, and I know you depend on it´s labour."

 

Peter looked at Maria´s face. She had her eyes fixed on the road before her, but her worry was obvious.

"Maybe.." Peter started. He sighed and tried again, "Maybe you could bring him over to the woods one day, he could keep Puller company, and even help me out a bit."

Silence rang through the trees around them.

"Y´know.. take the boy out of it a bit..." Peter´s voice became quite soft at the end of the sentence.

 

He walked on a few steps before realising that Maria had stopped walking. He turned around and looked at her. Her face was a picture of worry and hope.

"You´d do that for him?"

 

Peter nodded. "Of course."

 

Maria´s smile broke the wrinkles of worry on her face, and they walked on in silence.

 

Puller had indeed eaten something that he shouldn´t have, and Maria instructed Peter to pay more attention to what the adventurous mule ate in the woods. Peter nodded, and a few days later he gave the same instruction to the boy. He came there everyday after.

 

A few months later, Peter asked Maria´s hand in marriage. After looking at her boy, and seeing his smile, she accepted with her heart.

[Sweetcherrie]

Can we actually do this twice?

[Patrick]

Can we actually do this twice?

I see no harm in it, until you clearly state which of the submissions you want to consider for being the real one for the round.

[Wyvern]

Peter grunted and spat a loogey full of blood at the cracked pavement. The pain of love shot through his shoulders and back like a pitchfork raking his spine, and the huge stack of lumber on his back splintered and shifted with every step. The eighty miles of travel had been a little on the rough side without Grazer, but the sight of the bent sign with the horse doodle on it still sent his heart into a frenzy. The grainy stable doors blurred before him as he stumbled forward, and they broke from their hinges as he collapsed to the ground.

 

"Oh dear!" Maria jumped from her wooden chair, ruffled her hair and glanced towards a shiny spittoon to make herself presentable. She then rushed towards the twitching form of Peter, ignoring the mess of logs that carpeted the floor. "Woodland stranger, how unexpected of you return. Oh, but where are my manners... JUUUNNNNIIIIOOOOORRR!"

 

Peter lifted himself on one elbow and watched as a plump three-year old boy ran into the stable.

 

"Yes ma?!"

 

"Why don't you help clear up this mess while I keep this fine gentlemen company?" Maria picked up a log and heaved it at Junior, crushing him in an instant. "And when you're done, fix that there door. Now then, where were we...?"

 

"Don't wanna be causing no trouble, ma'am." Peter lifted himself to his feet and dusted off his tattered plaid shirt. His muscles seemed to ripple beneath the fabric as he stretched his arms, and Maria stepped forward with a smug smirk.

 

"Well, I certainly wasn't expecting to see you again, stranger." She winked at him and brushed a splinter of wood from his collar. "Not after those looks you gave me the last time you passed by. Not after that discount mule I sold you two days ago."

 

"Sickly, the paraplegic?" Peter dug into his large black beard and tossed out a small tumbleweed. "He passed away the other day, but I'm not here to get my wood back. In fact, I have brought you more wood."

 

"Mmmm," Maria spat a pumpkin seed from her mouth as her eyes narrowed to two mischievous slits, focussing on his zipper. "I'm sure you have. You know, I would be more than happy to refund you, though all I have on me are these clothes."

 

"That is most generous of you, ma'am." Peter stroked his beard. "But before you do anything of the sort, I have a confession to make. Ever since I first stepped into this stable, it was love at first sight..."

 

"Oh I knew it!" Maria tossed the braids from her hair and let out low a growl of satisfaction. She leaned back on the log crushing Junior and spread herself for him, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Show me what nature's given you, you wild, wild man!"

 

"Indeed," Peter stepped forward and paused for a moment at Maria's log, then continued to walk forward until he reached a stable with a large mule grazing in it. "Grazer's passing has been difficult for me, and Sickly could not take his place in his condition, but this mule struck me from the moment I first saw him."

 

Maria lifted herself from the log with a crack of Junior's bones, staring at Peter in bewilderment and confusion. She smoothed down her skirt and rebuttoned her blouse as she watched Peter stroke the mule on the cheek.

 

"That's right, baby, Peter's gonna buy you up." Peter blew a whistle of warm air into the mule's ear, causing it to whinny. He turned to Maria. "I'll give you all this wood and call off any refunds for him, though I would like to get a better look at his rear."

 

;-p

[Sweetcherrie]

*giggles and wonders if Wyvern has seen Brokeback mountain by any chance*

[Patrick]

It was really, really hard for me to decide, which continuation of the story I liked best, but after about an hour of thinking of it during a pretty boring class this afternoon, I came to the decision that I liked Wyvern's adaptation the best.

 

So, Wyv, it looks like you're up to propose the next challenge.

[Wyvern]

Wyvern slithers into the Conservatory and tacks a subject sheet onto the board. He tosses several crumpled pages of failed ideas to the side, then grins towards each of the participants in turn.

 

The character to play:

 

George A. Frederico, twenty-seven, is a poor illegal immigrant from Italy who lives in a dilapadated Brooklyn apartment complex. Next door to him is an overweight construction worker, and down the hall from him lives a part-time pimp, though he never see's either of them much due to his reclusive nature. Ever since he was seven years old, his father stressed to him the importance that solitude plays in the creative process, his harsh breath reeking of cheap italian wine. His father would sometimes become so upset at his non-chalant attitude towards Van Gogh that he would lock George in his room for the entire day without food or water. George has since realized that his father was embittered over his own failed body part sculptures and his girlfriend leaving him, but still takes his words to heart when drawing his paintings. George's artwork consists of canvases with stick figures centered around coffee mug stains, but none have ever been considered good enough to be placed in an art convention. He works as a window washer for tall apartment complexes to pay the rent, and can't find it in himself to turn down a stray cat if he see's one on the streets. He usually keeps cats that he's picked up for about a week before realizing that he can't take care of them, and sending them to the pound. His apartment has a flea problem that he can't afford to get rid of. You are to play the role of the half-dead earwig in one of George's unopened cans of lima beans.

 

The situation:

 

Dinner time.

[Sweetcherrie]

Oh what hell! How did I end up here? And why does my whole body hurt?

 

Tickle turned around and looked at the enormous object that was almost falling on top of him, and thinking that that would be a perfectly horrible end of a perfectly horrible day. He looked hazily at the weirdly smelling rock above him, and reached out with a pincher to poke it a little. The thing turned out to be soft, and come to think of it, he was lying on something soft as well.

 

With his antennae he poked around a bit, and waited till the world around him would stop turning, when suddenly the world rumbled. A large shiny thing came at him with rocket speed, and missed him by just an inch. Tickle was just about to sigh with relief when he felt the world around him move, and suddenly the piece of earth he was sitting on started rising into the sky.

 

He blinked as the world ran past him like a film on fast-forward, and then he saw it….the Cave! There were the weirdest stalactites, and stalagmites he’s ever seen, all white, and square. The inside of the cave was rosy and dark, and whether Tickle wanted or not, the piece of the world he was sitting on was moving into the cave.

 

Then the cave entranced closed, and his little piece of world fell apart. Tickle was shaken from left to right, and wondered what would happ-

[Patrick]

So...much...pain

 

Hibernating among these beans might have been a bad idea afterall...the lack of breathable air has finally started getting to me. I can barely breathe anymore, let alone move, and I'm simply fed up with the taste of these beans. Their smell is overwhelming, and even if I don't want to, I can still taste them, they're all around me, blocking out everything else.

 

Sometimes my whole world is shaken, beans pressing against my body, the liquid between them washing over me. This is what had also happened five minutes ago. And to make matters even worse, now it is even starting to become uncomfortably warm in here. Every passing second it becomes warmer and warmer. I don't know how long I shall be able to survive.

 

The heat is becoming searing, it shall soon be-WHAM

 

I'm sent flying into the side of my little world, as beans, liquid and myself are violently moved. Suddenly the small world I had called mine is torn open with the horrible sound of metal tearing against metal. Then, I feel gravity's pull. The beans next to me start falling, and despite my best efforts, I fall with them. Finally I'm able to breathe, and cool air flies past as I fall.

 

*SMACK*

 

I think I broke a leg. It hurts, but the pain I can live with. I'm alive, and out of my prison! I scurry out of the way of the still falling beans, but suddenly a pink object descends upon me, and grabs me by one of my sensors. The object's smell is disgusting. I am moved fast through the air, over massive distances. The smell of beans gradually becomes less and less, and suddenly fresh air hits me, and the pink object hurls me away from it. I try extending my wings, but they are stuck from the bean juice. I fall among grass, nearly impaling myself on a sharp blade. I'm bruised and battered, one leg broken and a sensor badly mutilated, but I'm ALIVE!

[The Portrait of Zool]

He was floating in a dream. Inbetween fading from semi-consciousness to unconsciousness his half dead mind wandered, bringing flashbacks of memory, slipping into fantasy. At any point he was unsure which was which.

 

A face materialized in his mind's eye. It was Fzeltg, his great great grand-bug, and mentor. "I want to make great art," he told Fzeltg, his antennae humming and twitching the message he wouldn't dare admit to anyone else. Things were much too disciplined in the nest, much too ordered.

 

He was confident Fzeltg would understand. He wasn't disappointed. "You must look inward, young Rakzx." The old bug's antennae quavered weakly, but with the definition of certainty. His whole body was covered with the calcified scale of the very aged - almost 5 months. His ancient body had failed to moult; His days were numbered, but you wouldn't know it from what he said. "You must believe in yourself to make the journey," Fzeltg continued, "to realize your dream. You must be brave. At first it will seem all the world is against you, but eventually all comes to he who holds onto hope and perseveres."

 

They lived in a mountain full of peculiar machinery. Rakzx didn't have a clue what it was all about, only that incomprehensible amounts of plant material came in one side of the mountain (the stuff that fell to the floor, with the right amount of age and moisture, became the unending mana that sustained the nest), and was transformed into the dry cubes full of metal cylinders that continually went out the other side of the mountain. In between was so much whizzing, whirring, buzzing, burning and clanking goings-on as to make any earwig's feet ache in agony and antennaes whirl in complete confusion. The opinion of the nest was that it was the work of the gods, and to venture 'up there' was to foolishly go where no bug should ever go. The few who made it back alive made that plain. Still, one fact stood out to Rakzx: That the huge dry cubes left the mountain. The only question left was how to get into the cubes.

 

He started his journey that night, climbing high into the thrumming heart of the mountain, into the light that blinded and the heat that seared. Mysterious rivers of metal thundered by on all sides, but he ignored the quaking vibrations and the hurricane winds, grasping tenuously to the slippery surfaces as best he could, scurrying from crack to crack whenever he felt he had sufficiently recovered his strength.

 

After many hours he felt his strength was at an end. He was completely lost, completely disoriented, almost completely blind and deaf. He was hanging dearly onto the side of a metal rail as he felt his will ebbing, the last of his strength leaving, and then... He fell. Falling... falling... falling... Rakzx just knew that this was the end... when he felt with a jolt that he had fallen into something hot, something wet, something soft... and then the light was cut off with a tremendous bang and he was sealed in blackness. He had been in the darkness now for so very, very long.

 

A feeling of movement brought Rakzx back to the present, a moment of clarity, and the realization that he had been dreaming, that he was indeed in a dream, a dream of his own making, and he was dying. He knew that now, he just knew it. Oh, how he had suffered for his art. If only he had ever made any art...

 

Suddenly he felt a tremendous vibration. Something was happening! The light! I see the light! Hallelujah! He cringed at the barrage of sense impressions suddenly opening up on him like a flood. Light, sound, and movement pounded his weak body. Though he hardly made sense of every sensation, he was quickly to put a lot in perspective when he suddenly found George Alfonso Frederico had preheated the Pan, and had, in fact, turned the burner on under the pan just as the phone rang some minutes earlier. It was his mother, from Italy. She couldn't afford to talk long, but after several minutes of "Si Mama, Si Mama," durring which he hopped and jittered in his wife-beater and boxers, curly black hair tossing like gas in a molotov cocktail, doing the 'flea-slap dance' as he usualy did while occupying his apartment, the pan was glowing a quiet deep red, had George bothered to look before upending the can.

 

All Rakzx knew was that one minute he was floating half-dead in a bean can, and just as his freedom seemed imminent there was a hissing explosion and he found himself floating up to the great glowing nest in the sky, now fully dead.

 

He seemed to be rising fairly slow, however, and felt an urge to look down. Death had sharpened his senses immeasurably, so that he could now quite clearly see, hear, and understand things his earwig senses would never have sensed in life. As he slowly drifted higher, he looked down, to witness a peculiar chain of events.

 

He saw George Alfonso Frederico just standing, Lima beans dripping from his face, lima beans on the stove, lima beans smoking in the Pan in front of him. George just stood there for a long moment, just staring, until he suddenly reached down to his ankles to swat fleas. Then, George suddenly became angry. He capered and twirled in his anger, balling his fists and uttering a stream of the darkest italian. Then, he reached for the pan and lobbed it with every ounce of kinetic energy he could muster straight at the wall, where it bounced with a hollow clang, embellishing the copious stick figure graffiti with Lima bean and earwig garnish.

 

George, nearly in tears, sat on the couch, his head in his hands. While the outburst was not unusual after a call from his mother, The beans was a new twist. After he calmed down (indicated by a new bout of the flea-slap dance), his eyes turned to the beans on the wall, and he stared... and stared...

 

George jumped up, examining the wall with a critical eye. Soon, inbetween flea-slaps, he was smiling, and then he became excited. He went into the bedroom and came out with a sawzall, which he immediately plunged into the wall and began cutting through with a terrible noise.

 

Dust and noise filled the air. Sparks flew, water spurted and the building shook. Finally a large square of the wall was cut through and fell back, revealling the next apartment and it's occupant. Seated on a battered recliner in front of a tiny TV was an enourmous hairy pot belly, framed at the sides with filthy red suspenders, at the bottom by severly strained (formerly) black Dickies trousers, and at the top by two floppy man-breasts, a shrivelled head and two flabby arms. George recognized his neighbor by sight only. He was a construction worker or something. George knew this because he occasionally saw him in the hallway coming home from work wearing a toolbelt (and thankfully, a shirt) and smelling of pine dust, plaster and sweat.

 

"What the hell are you doing?" asked his neighbor without getting up, eyeing the section of wall covered in what looked like stick figures, lima beans, and a dead earwig.

 

"Mama mia!" George chirped excitedly, clapping a hand to his forehead as he started struggling with the large piece of wall, "This is my-a masterpiece! I have-a finally made great art!"

 

Also smiling broadly now, Rakzx ascended into the light, glowing with the satisfaction that he had at last achieved his life's ambition.

 

[Wyvern]

Wyvern scans over the entries of the three participants one final time, then decides that the month deadline has passed and that it's time to announce the victor before the next set of tax collectors rolls around. The lizard clears his throat of a few ashes and raises a small announcement card in front of his snout. He goes cross-eyed as he reads the fine print.

 

Thanks to those who chose to participate in this. :-) I really liked the description of the mouth cave in Sweetcherrie's entry as well as the hopeful ending of Patrick's response, but Zool's was by far my favorite for its intricate backstory, creative incorporation of George Alfonso Frederico details, and original twist ending... not to mention its general comedy value (see: off the freakin' meter). Thus, it is with the utmost honor that I pass down this fine prize to The Portrait of Zool.

 

Wyvern hands the Portrait of Zool a statement indicating that he is now responsible for the next "Imagine if you were" subject, along with a document to sign stating that no earwigs were harmed in the making of this thread. The overgrown lizard stifles a snicker and dashes off before the framed fowl-feeder can read the fine print about the lima bean factory bill.

 

;-)

[The Portrait of Zool]

Thanks Wyvern! I had a lot of fun putting the story together. Thanks for the inspiration too! ;D

 

The character to play is:

 

Melba Somone is the retired village school teacher. She knows everyone in the village, and everyone knows her, with various levels of gratitude or regret, depending on their performance in her classes. She is much shorter now, her disposition much sweeter, her skin wrinkled and her hair silver, compared to when she was queen of her educational domain, but she still has a twinkle in her eye - well, perhaps more of a furnace...

 

Frktl Pilaighne is a young silver dragon of only a little over one century old. He has recently been in a very bad humor due to some unexpected occurances. One moment he was frollicking in the dimensional grottoes of primal space, and the next he found himself bound into the most ridiculously weak and fragile form, in a most boring and burdensome place. Some of his powers still sporadically manifest, but he finds himself unable to break free. He can, however, sense the source of his imprisonment, and is determined to find the cause of his predicament, and rectify it.

 

You are to play the wizard who has transposed Melba and Frktl together.

 

The situation the character has to be roleplayed in is:

 

Melba is in the Magistrates office, charged with eating a Spaniel in a single bite. The large clock slowly ticks off the minutes as they wait for the witnesses to show up, but they are mysteriously absent. The magistrate looks at Melba and is disconcerted to see her snort a smoke ring from her left nostril, a knowing smirk on her face. Though the Magistrate has a very bad feeling, he has to admit that without witnesses, he has no reason to detain her, and must let her go.

 

*edited for verb tense problems *

[Sweetcherrie]

For an onlooker the office was probably the weirdest place they would ever see. Each side of the room was covered with bookshelves, but on the book shelves there were no books, nor were there any files. Instead each shelf had a little box on it, and each box had three drawers. Most of the drawers were labeled with weird sounding names. Names like yoddle, sag, booger, and groin, but some of the things, like cake or intake forms, actually made sense. The walls were so full that one could actually feel the bookshelves crowding in on him, as if they were leaning over, threatening to get you when you would turn your back on them.

 

In one of the corners a bald penguin was nervously twitching his wings, eyes flashing from side to side. One could wonder what the animal was doing here, but as soon as the doorbell rang you would know. At the sound of the bell to penguin would start jumping in its corner, and it would then wobble over to the door. It would stick its beak through a small crack that also served as mailbox, start flapping with those same wings as if it was about to take off in flight, and then its beak would fall open and it would produce a ticket with a number for those waiting in line. Onghus had found him on one of his travels to the South Pole, and had taken a pity for the shivering animal. The poor thing had been standing separate from his group, an outcast for not having feathers.

 

But no tickets were needed this late afternoon, today had brought a special case. This afternoon two special visitors were sitting in his office, and Onghus didn’t like what he was seeing through the crack in the window. He’d been looking for excuses not to go back inside yet, but finally he’d run out. After all, it had been his spell that had made the mess, so it would have to be him who would untangle it. This still didn’t mean he would have to like the situation, and upon his return from dis- and re-emboweling a greedy frog, (re-emboweling after he had emptied the intestines from the various objects the frog had swallowed, why did a frog want to swallow Lego heads anyway?) he had decided to observe the situation beforehand while standing outside, looking in through the crack in his window.

 

Melba had been huffing smoke for an hour already, and each time she hiccoughed, dog hairs circled up into the air to land into her lap. Onghus was pretty sure what happened there, but Frktl looked more like an empty shell. The dragon, or well the body of the dragon, had been staring straight ahead for almost half an hour now and never even blinked. There was no trace of the witnesses yet, but in his years as magistrate he had learned that witnesses usually took their time.

 

Of course in his years as magistrate he had never had a spell that back-fired this badly. Sure, when he had been a younger wizard he had made some small mistakes. Like the one time he had accidentally changed a flower fairy into a grounded fairy by changing its wings into gold. He still told himself that he was not to blame; the fairy had wanted to be rich, and beautiful, and had asked for golden wings. Of course the moment Onghus had happily changed its wings into solid gold the fairy had fallen like a rock to the earth, and the wings had broken off. But, and this he was certain off, it had been the fairy’s fault for not properly defining his request.

 

This though, this was an entirely different case. He had been at the house of mother goose when it had happened, and had just been working to get some tar off a swan that had been stupid enough to walk through the wrong gate, when the spell he had been using back-fired. He had felt it back-fire as well, it was like a little electric shock. The swan had been white again, but somehow Onghus knew that something had gone terribly wrong.

The moment his secretary had pinged him on his palmtop, Onghus his uncomfortable feelings had been confirmed. In her email she had described shortly what had happened, and that the witnesses would be coming to his office that afternoon. She had also added that she would take the rest of the day off, as a pre-caution. The wizard hadn’t like that part one bit, but could understand that she didn’t want to be around when Melba arrived. She had been in one of Melba’s classes, and hadn’t been the best of students.

 

Onghus watched the dragon and the teacher more closely, and was heavily trying to convince himself to go in, when someone tapped on his shoulder. Onghus turned around, and stared at a piece of rough, dark green fabric. Slowly, he directed his gaze up, and up, and up, and up…and looked into the face of Moonga. The half-giant looked down at him with a wide grin.

 

“’Ello meester majisterrrr.”

 

Moonga had once been in France, and had loved the accent. Ever since the half-giant had started dressing better, smelling less, and he rolled his r’s.

 

“I ham yourrrr weetness meester majisterrrr.”

 

“Oh my dear lordie lord,” flashed through Onghus’ head, “This nitwit is supposed to tell me what happened?” But to Moonga his words were calm and weighed out, after all he was not the young wizard anymore, he was the magistrate, and had years of experience backing him up.

 

“I see, Moonga. Well, shall we go inside then?”

 

The half-giant nodded, almost wiping a tree out as he moved his arms along with the nod. As they walked towards the entrance together they formed a pretty duo. Moonga with his twelve feet, his dark green trousers, and pink blouse looked humongous next to Onghus. The wizard was what you would call, small, but only to be polite. In fact, he was tiny. He’d always had his robes tailor-made, and they were always bright azure with black stars. He found that as the magistrate you had to look presentable, and this was also the reason that he wore his long white beard braided, and even kept it in a beard warmer during the night to not get the hair all tangled up.

 

Moonga apparently couldn’t resist, and he pressed the doorbell while Onghus opened the door, slamming it into the face of the bald penguin that had just been wobbling over to spit out a number. With a soft wooshing sound the penguin flew backwards and hit one of the bookshelves, taking a whole lot of little drawers with him in his fall. Onghus clasped his hand tighter around the doorknob, and shushed Moonga, who’s expression had started to go from surprise to sad, to almost crying, before he would have the half-giant sobbing on his knees how sorry he was.

 

“Don’t worry Moonga, it’s ok,” Onghus said softly as he picked up the penguin, but thought instead, “Half-giants are such wusses.”

 

Moonga nodded and turned around. Frktl and Melba were still sitting at their respective places, and the half-giant oogled brightly at the dragon and the school teacher.

 

“Mizzz Melba gone.” He exclaimed with a big grin on his face, “Frktl zid ‘poof’ and Mizz Melba gone.”

 

Onghus looked from Moonga to the fuming Melba, and then to the dazed Dragon.

 

“And where exactly did Frktl ‘poof’ off to?”

 

The half-giant started clapping in his hands, almost causing more bookshelves to tumble down. The bald penguin fainted, and the empty dragon shell fell over. With two enormous hands he picked up Melba, and held her up in front of Onghus, almost pressing the old lady’s body in his face.

 

“Frktl inszzide errr.”

 

Onghus cringed as Frktl’s eyes inside Melba’s body spat fire at him, and a string of smoke came puffing from her left nostril.

 

“And where is Melba?”

 

With a swing Moonga put Frktl in Melba back down, and waved his hands around his head. The lamp that hung from the ceiling flew through the window and the bald penguin, who was just starting to come by, fainted again.

 

“Melba gone evrrrreeeewherre.” Moonga’s hands were now swinging as wide as he could get them, and Onghus prayed he would at least keep the roof intact. He got a weird feeling inside his stomach, and didn’t want to but had to ask.

 

“What do you mean everywhere?”

 

The look of pride disappeared from the half-giant’s face, and was replaced by a frown. He brought a finger; about the size of Onghus’s his lower-arm, to his lips and seemed to think. Onghus almost started applauding, feeling strangely honoured to be present at the rare occasion to see a half-giant think, but held his breath for fear of disturbing Moonga in his thought process. Then a grin appeared on Moonga’s face, and he grabbed the bald penguin from the floor.

 

“Zisss Melba, desk Melba, butterfly…Melba, you zeee?”

 

“Oh dear lordie lord! This is worse than I thought at first.”

 

Onghus sank down in his chair as he desperately tried to oversee the consequences of what Moonga just told him. Fixing Frktl back into his own body would be easy, but Melba…everywhere, oh my dear lordie lord.

 

“Onghoos not appy?”

 

Onghus shook himself mentally, and looked at Moonga. He shook his head sadly, “Onghus not very appy, no.” He got up slowly, and with a wave of his hand the dragon was back in his own body. Frktl opened his mouth to breathe fire, but Onghus held up a commanding hand.

 

“Later, now I will have to find a way to solve the other part of this problem.” He turned his back to Frktl and Moonga, and it was clear that the magistrate wanted them to leave.

 

The dragon looked at the half-giant with contempt and breathes in Onghus neck, “This is not the last you hear about this,” before taking off in flight through the window. Moonga only pulled up his shoulders in a shrug, and pressed his overly large body out through the front door.

 

When they had both left, Onghus turned around. Absent-mindedly he surveyed the utter mess in his office, and picked up the bald penguin. Dusting the poor animal, he muttered in despair, “Melba everywhere…oh lordie lord.”

 

Edit: Edited the verb tenses since I was obviously drunk or something when I wrote this first, and though the little penguin is very bold, he was mainly meant to be bald.

[Patrick]

Trust a dragon to see through magic, Janek thought to himself sitting next to his crystal ball in the highest room of his wizard's tower. He had counted on this possibility, but still it complicated things quite a lot. It seemed that Frktl had retained quite a few of his powers, even while being trapped in such a fragile form as that of the old woman. How every single second of living in such a useless body must annoy him!

 

Watching through the eyes of the Magistrate and controlling his movements, Janek had noticed the moment of recognition in the yellow, dragon-like eyes of Melba Somone. Frktl-in-Melba knew that the person sitting on the other side of the table was not the magister. It was just the magister's body, controlled by the one person Frktl-in-Melba loathed more than he loathed the pitysome body he was trapped in.

 

Janek tapped his skeletal fingers on the surface of the crystal ball. It took only a part of his concentration to control the Magistrate's body, with the rest he could still take care of what was going on around him. The ghouls on the lower levels of his tower had once again broken loose and he ordered his apprentice, a recent lich to take care of the disturbance.

 

Trapping Frktl in the schoolteacher had been no easy spell, but so far it had proven a very interesting experiment. Janek had never expected the human body to take on draconic caracteristics, but in recent days he had seen the beginnings of a tail and scales appearing along the chest of the body, which had once housed the spirit of Melba. That said spirit was sitting in a magically sealed jar next to the crystal ball. There was actually no need for Janek to keep it in order to continue this experiment, but he fancied trying the inverse experiment of putting the human spirit into the draconic body, which at that precise moment was a lifeless husk in the lowest underground level of his tower.

 

Janek's attention was once again captured by the crystal ball, which represented what the Magistrate's eyes were seeing. The smoke coming from the Melba body's nostrils was intensifying, the inner furnace increasing in power. Frktl-within was most probably building up a reservoir of anger to unleash if the need arose. The time of observation was over. The experiment needed to be put back on the right track.

 

The Magistrate spoke, but his voice was not that which the Melba-body remembered. Instead it was Frktl within who remembered that voice. It belonged to the accursed lich who had torn his body and spirit apart two weeks ago. Frktl had been foolish to go near that wizard's tower, he knew, but as a young and foolish dragon, he could not resist the call of the vast riches the circular walls contained.

 

"It seems that the witnesses shall not come, Miss Somone." After all, formalities had to be considered, and there were other watcher's than Janek. Several of the wizards in the city were suspecting that something unnatural had happened to Melba. Janek could feel their scrying glances directed towards the Magistrate's Office. To protect his experiment, Janek had had to take care of the troublesome witnesses himself. He knew that even if the Melba body developed the ability to breathe fire, Frktl would not have much chance of evading capture if found guilty.

 

"Am I free to go then?" Melba asked in that sweet voice of hers. Dragons had always been good at imitating other's voices and Frktl knew that he had to hide in order to survive.

 

"Most certainly, Miss Somone. The hearing scheduled for the disappearance of the seven cats shall happen sometime in the next few days." The witnesses for that case were still alive, and Janek had had trouble tracking one of them down.

 

Frktl-in-Melba stood up and made a step towards the door. The door flew open before he could reach it, an aide to the Magistrate rushing in.

 

"Sir! Sir! Two of the witnesses in the case have been found murdered!"

 

While the deaths of two witnesses would not have been enough to convict him, Frktl did not know that and he panicked. The aide was enveloped in a burst of flame escaping from the human mouth. Janek could see that the lips of the Melba-body were themselves charred in the process. Frktl then turned and unleashed a fresh breath of fire at the Magistrate. Janek could have saved the man, but at that moment did not care anymore. At least a dozen eyes besides his own had seen the events unfold in the Magistrate's office, surveying through crystal balls of their own. Frktl-in-Melba was doomed. Janek doubted that the sould could be seperated from the body anymore. Most likely in the coming minutes, Frktl-in-Melba would meet a very unpleasant end by the spells of the wizards, Janek could sense were already preparing their teleportation spells.

 

Janek watched the scene unfold in his crystal ball. The end was swift, yet brutal. Three of the wizards themselves were consumed in the hellish fire emanating from Melba's body, before they overcame Frktl, reducing the body he had been inhabiting to a small pile of ash.

 

Pity that the experiment had to end so soon, Janek thought to himself as he covered up the crystal ball. At least he still had the Melba-spirit and the dragon-body. That experiment would be quite interesting also.

[The Portrait of Zool]

Oh my holey gee-whizzakers! I've been so busy lately, I forgot all about the expiration of the 30 day open period!

 

My apologies.

[Sweetcherrie]

Yay

 

Buuuuut...I'll put this one on my to do list and bump it once the carnival is over...

 

Still, thank you for creating this one, and reading the entries, was fun to write