Kethys stepped back, his hand again going subconsciously to his belt. "What is this gelato and soft-serve? And Pistasshoe? Can we try different kinds?"
The gleaming apparition comes to a halt and... You have no idea what this is. It looks like a skeleton, but one with bones made of steel and glowing glass in its eyesockets. Is lower body looks like a very large accordeon, stretching down into the depths, and it is wearing the tattered remains of a leather vest and hat, which look as though they were once stripped off of a large reptile.
"Why, you can get-het-het annny kind you like, sonny," the thing screeches. "First order is free, all after are just two eda each, more if you want toppings!"
"Then I would like to try the pistasho soft serve, please."
"Perhaps Kethys should try this confection. And we can watch to see if there are any ill effects.
Then, to the vendor, Szerith says "You mentioned the cost of subsequent orders. Will you tell us where we can earn such resources?
Midnight eyes this creature. Trying to sell this to them. And by the looks of things...
She looks at it before she makes a choice on what to do. For now. Let the orc creature taste at his own risk
-Posted with Wayfinder
The vendor turns to Szerith and its eyes flash once.
"You got no money, sonny? Don't you fre-he-het, there's money to win at the Funfair! There's the shooting range, there's games of chance and skill, and for a big payout, just go to Zonko's wagon and sing him a so-ho-hong!"
The vendor shoots down into his tube and after a brief moment returns, holding an ice cream cone filled with bright green soft-serve.
"One yummy pistachio cone for you, sonny," the vendor cackles, holding the ice cream out to Kethys.
Regretting not having beaten Kethys to the free offer, Tigwith suddenly becomes eager to earn some money.
"How about we go play one of those games? I'm already a little hungry and I have nothing to eat."
And then, with a wistful glance: "Unless Kethys would be so kind..."
Kethys eyed the bright green concoction with reserve. First, there was the color. Nothing that particular shade should be eaten. And, it was cold! Tentatively, he sniffed it, then touched the tip of his tongue to the ice cream. It was sweet! His tusks raised in a big grin as he took a huge bite.
The cold cream filled his mouth with the sweet, slightly nutty taste, and he swallowed quickly. On his second bite, he got a bit of the cone, and the sweet crunch was heaven. Then, as he relished the flavor, a terrific pain lanced out from the roof of his mouth and into the back of his head. Kethys dropped the cone, spitting the few remnants of the ice cream to the ground as he wheezed, "Poison!"
He clawed at his mouth, spitting and wondering if he was doomed. Slowly, the feeling receded, and he felt a little foolish. He seemed to be fine, and the headache was gone. Mournfully, he looked to the ground where he had dropped the cone, only to see the remnants melted into the ground where he had accidentally stepped on it during his convulsive movements.
"Umm...maybe it's not poisoned?"
She took a step back at the sudden outburst. Ready to freeze the creature on the spot. But relaxes as he came to his sense
"Games sound like it could help us relax. But i do not think I will be singing any time soon." she tries to give the... what ever it is... a smile.
"I will try something... sweet. Sweetest thing you have"
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"I like the sound of games of chance," he says as he fetches a pair of dice from his belt pouch. "It's always helpful to be prepared for cheating, though."
-Posted with Wayfinder
"...he says as he reaches for the dice at his belt."
"You all need money? Well, the games are waiting for you! And to help you on your way..."
The vendor shoots down the tube four times and pops up again just as often, each time with a different ice cream cone.
"Pistachio for you, sonny," to Kethys.
"You look like a rum raisin type to me," to Szerith.
"Vanilla-strawberry for you, little fella," to Tigwith.
"And double chocolate for you," to Midnight Frost.
"Enjoy, buckaroos! Enjoy the fair! Have a nice day!"
As the vendor shoots down the tube and out of sight, the giant merry-go-round slows down and comes to a stop. If you so choose, you can all take a ride. Alternatively, there are other places you can go while enjoying your ice creams...
She uses her mage hand to enjoy her iceream, chilling it even more with her cold cantrip
"So the games. Shall we?"
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"Yes, I would very much like to. But after the ice cream."
"Pleasures of the body hold no interest for me," says Szerith as he drops the ice cream to the ground.
Having finished his ice cream, Tigwith tries to salvage as much as he can of Szerith's.
You enjoy your treats - or not - and make your way to the games! A handy signpost tells you how to get to the shooting gallery, the ring-toss, the caber-toss, the bell-hammer, the arm-wrestling booth, the bumper contest and the robo-rodeo.
You just need to pick one!
"This place is just...odd. Sweet cold treats, and now games? It is like all the best things about a harvest festival, only skewed slightly. Let's try a game or two."
Kethys made his way over to the ring-toss and tried to figure out how to play the game.
"Ring-Toss does sound easy. I will join you "
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Tigwith follows to the ring toss to see what he can do there.
"A shooting gallery? What is that"
"I will go to this shooting gallery. I have not heard of such a thing.
The ring toss turns out to be a festive-looking booth, striped yellow and red. Set a distance of about twenty feet behind the counter is a series of four targets; halved coconuts on poles, by the look of them.
As you approach the counter, another creature like the ice cream vendor slowly rises into voew. He makes a dull, grinding noise as he rises, and his body is the colour of rust, not silver. His eyes glow dully, the light flickering on and off.
"Four tosses per person, free," the creature announces, its voice dull and weary, and it places rings on the counter. "Hit a target, win a prize. How jolly we are."
The shooting gallery is a large, poorly lit shack with a counter near the entrance. As you walk inside -- the door slams shut behind you and a bright light comes on overhead. That, and a bit of music that makes you feel a little nervous, a little enervated.
A whirring sound in the distance, and six pieces of paper with a bullseye painted on them come gliding into view, seemingly unsupported -- although this is likely an illusion caused by the surrounding darkness and the positioning of the light -- and come to a stop side-by-side.
"Take your best shot, pardner," a tinny voice growls from the direction of the light. "Rifle or sidearm? Six shots either way. Can you pit the ace and win the prize?"
More whirring, and two items -- presumably the rifle and sidearm -- lower down out of the overhead gloom.
Kethys reached out and grabbed the rings. He flapped his arms to limber up, and quickly tossed them at the targets. The first one hit the target, and nearly went over it before spinning to the ground. Kethys grumbled a curse and rushed his second throw. His third sailed neatly over the peg and stayed. In celebration, he threw the last ring a little too hard, bouncing it right off the target.
"Look at that. One out of four isn't bad!"
"Seems simple enough. I too will take a shot at this..."
Her first 2 attempts were spot on. The last 2 not so much. Not easy throwing things with just your mouth....
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Tigwith throws four rings with precision.
"Two hits! I believe I am owed two prizes."
Taking the rifle, Szerith tries to aim with the unusual weapon.
-Posted with Wayfinder
"Everyone's a winner - a winner - a winner," the rust-coloured vendor wheezes - then whacks himself in the head. "Ow. Everyone's a winner. Wait here for your prize - your prize - your prize - Ow."
The vendor starts to sink doen his tube, but grinds to a halt while still halfway visible.
"Sigh. Would someone please give me a good, hard shove? I'm afraid the channel's become corroded."
Provided you oblige him, the vendor slowly sinks into the stygian depths and you are left to wait. One of the targets falls over and rolls into the shadows.
After a few minutes, the vendor scrapes and grinds back into view, carrying four bundles and a stuffed toy.
"The latest we have," he wheezes as he deposits the bundles on his counter and hands the toy - a jolly, fluffy, pink bear that smells faintly of strawberries - to Tigwith especially.
"Ten Eda for the next toss or make way for the next player," the vendor wheezes in a lacklustre way. "Nobody push. Stay in line..."
Holding the odd weapon of his choice, Szerith manages to hit two of the targets quite close to the center!
A tinny sound of applause comes from above, the targets slide back into the darkness, and different items swing into view - and within reach.
"Everyone's a winner at the funfair, pardner," the voice growls from above. "Good shootin'."
As soon as you have collected your prizes, the light from above dims.
"Ten Eda for the next round or make way for the next gunman," the voice growls.
She does shove him down the pipe, giving a nice jab with her hoof. A slight feeling of glee fills her when she does so though
She eyes the object, target. then she looks at her fellow strandee's. then back to the target
"That's not good..." she whispers while he is gone "Those 'targets'look like skulls... that in a way looks like some of what your heads look like"
At his return, she eyes the prizes, shrugs and accepts them
"Thank you kind... er... sir? About these Eda... how do we get those?"
"What target?" Tigwith asks Midnight. "I see nothing."
Tigwith takes his gear back and examines it.
"The targets we threw the rings at..." she rolls her eyes at the vermin
Tigwith glances again at the targets. Seeing nothing, he decides to leave Midnight to her illusions.
[dice=Perception]1d20+5
"What target?" Tigwith asks Midnight. "I see nothing."
Tigwith takes his gear back and examines it.
Tigwith looks around. No one hostile seemed to be watching him, but he preferred to be as cautious as possible. He walks outside the tent and looks for a hidden corner to see if there's a hidden corner in which to prepare his daily extracts and bombs.
Szerith takes the items, while handling the weapon cord, acid flask, and bolts, he closes his eyes for a moment. "These. I know these," he thinks to himself.
Then the light dims. He makes his way to the fareway to search out the others to see how they have fared.
Kethys looked at the bundle in his hands, recognizing the items, and feeling almost instinctively where they should go. When the armor and weapons are revealed, he picks out the chain shirt, daggers, and morningstar as his, despite no true recollections of them. Something about the kit with the vials of liquids and powders was familiar though.
Turning his head, Kethys saw Tigwith mixing some items together. Looking around to make sure that the others were indeed waiting, he sat down and quickly did the same.
"Anyone-one-one-one-Ow! want to take another throw?" the rusty vendor asks, listlessly. "Or if you can-can-can-Ow!-can't afford that, I can refer you to a good soup kitkitkit-
Hey, guys and dolls!
If you're short on cash
Don't eat our trash
But zing a zong for Zonko!
You zing your zing
He'll do his thing
Your cash woes will be gone!
With a ring-a-ding
Just zing and zing
Just zing a zong for Zonkooo~!"
The rusty vendor rattles and shakes when he bursts into his sudden song. Even when he stops, you hear a soft wheezing sound coming from inside of him - and he smells of something burning.
"I hate-hate-hate when that happens. No Eda, no more throws. Go on, get gone," the vendor wheezes. He starts to sink into his tube, but gets stuck halfway again, grinding and cursing feebly. The smell of something burning intensifies - and gains a disturbing organic aspect...
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"We better move... now..... NOW people!" as she begins to move away, rather quickly. This place was wrong. Really wrong!
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"I believe that the horse has the right idea. But I don't think I would feel comfortable anywhere in this fair..."
"Perhaps you're right. Let's keep moving. Maybe we will find more of our gear if we keep exploring?"
"Yeah, I think you're right, let's move"
Kethys moved his hands to his belt, fingering the little vials there as he backpedaled quickly away from the figure.