The Althygames, pt 1

Since my money is burning a hole in my pocket, I'm going to be posting a series of games designed to test your mettle as character and writer. Since this is my personal nonsense, all judgments will be completed by me and any complaints can be taken up with John's fists.

But participation is not without its rewards!
Place first, and you have won my respect. Also 150gp
Place second, and you get a sweet 75 gold
Place third and I will acknowledge you in chat! (a 45gp value! can be traded in)

PROMPT: Your character has somehow gotten himself roped into a festival in Radasanth, and he/she is in the dunking booth. Who is throwing, and when they hit, what happens when you get DUNKED ON?

Fenn strolled through the streets of Radasanth in the wee morning hours, watching as the summer festival festivities were set up. Gay decorations laced the buildings around him, inside and out. He smiled up at the whorls of color in a banner overhead. People of all creeds busied about, setting up their festival shops, stalls, and games on the edge of the streets. He wondered how many of the game stalls were rigged into some sort of scam, and if so, how he could scam the scammers.
This festival was going to be exciting! He had heard there were all sorts of neat things here; games and contests that could be won. Won, he hoped with a sneaky smirk, for money. He had heard of a few good places to get food, and a drinking tent that was worth checking out.

First though, he noticed some unusual contraptions set up on the side of the street. They were a sort of mesh-fronted box, with what seemed to be an oddly-shaped diving board over the water-filled bottom half. Next to it was a wall with a button set in the middle.

What were those? Pools? Fish tanks? Hot tubs? He just had to find out.

Fenn skipped up to one of the contraptions and peered curiously inside. No fish, so not a fish tank. Scratch that possibility out. He sidled around to the back side and found that there was a locked gate. Pssh! Locks! Gates! As if such simple protect could hold Fenn back. He shimmied over the gate with ease and stepped out onto the diving-board-looking thing, leaning over the edge to look into the still water. He hesitated and cocked his head curiously. What was this even for? Even snooping around like this didn’t hold any answers.

“Hey, stupid, you’re not supposed to be in those!” a teen called out at him from the street, cupping his hands around his mouth. His two friends snickered next to him. Fenn mentally dubbed the teen “Lippy” for his big mouth and a scar over his upper lip, and his friends became “Freckles” and “Bucky” for their - what else? - freckles and buck teeth. “Get outta the dunk tank, loser!”

What did they think they were going to accomplish by yelling at him? Fenn crossed his arms tightly together with a haughty turn of his head. As far as he cared, he could be anywhere he damn well pleased.

“If he ain’t gonna get out, we could give him a dunk,” Freckles whispered loudly. The boys grinned amongst themselves. Fenn's ear flicked curiously in the direction of the whisper, still stubbornly standing on the diving-board-thing. Dunk? His curiosity stirred. What was a dunk?

He very quickly found out. Bucky dashed over and slammed his hand down on the button. The contraption trembled a little under the force. Fenn flailed his arms as the diving board - the dunking seat, it seemed - gave way under him without warning. Sploosh. “DUNK’D!” Lippy shouted, giving his friend a high-five after he ran back. Oh, Fenn realized as he spat water and wiped the sopping hair out of his eyes. That was a dunk.

The water wasn't cold to Fenn. However, it seemed that Fenn was much too cold for the water. Ice flashed over the surface and crept into the corners of the machine. Fenn hastily grabbed onto the side with the dunking seat and hoisted himself out of the pool. Soon, the nervous frost spreading out from his touch had infected the entire tank, turning the water into a solid chunk of ice and plastering the walls with frost and condensation.
Uh-oh. Fenn gave the teens a sheepish look and dashed out of the dunking tank with all haste. He wasn't answering for that, no way, no how.

“Oh shit,” Freckles gasped, “What did he do to it?” They watched in awe as Fenn leapt his way over the gate and out of the box, dashing off in fright. He ran rather stiffly, as his wet clothes were already solidifying from his innate cold. Later, he would have to deal with that; for now, it was go time!
“Uh, I think the little dude’s got the right idea,” Bucky mumbled, pointing behind them at a beefy man with a floppy mustache. “The dude who owns these is like, here now. I don’t really, like, want to be caught nea-”
All three jolted as the owner cried out in manly surprise and outrage over the state of the frozen tank. “Scatter!” Lippy cried, and they all ran down the street after Fenn.

Charity was never a priority to Storm Veritas, but a bet was a bet, and damned if he didn’t enjoy the opportunity to pick on the masses. Radasanth had more or less been his home for damned near a decade, but he’d managed to live between the night and day as different men in many respects. Until the recent spat of assassinations with which he had been inextricably linked, the electromancer was a man of the people, for as far as these local rubes knew.

The carnival barker was a preposterous sort, and drew a crowd consistently throughout the fair which surrounded this dunk tank. He wore a ridiculous set of striped red suspenders around a thick barrel chest, holding up taut green pants that looked to be inspired by mashed peas. His thick, curly orange hair was capped with a round, flat straw hat, thick rimmed with a heavy blue strap. His voice boomed across the square.

“That’s it, step up and sink the bad guy! Introducing your local lothario, your neighborhood nuisance, your village villain, Storm Veritas!”

A chorus of boos greeted Storm in a dull wave as he stepped up and seated himself upon the pad within the small metal cage. Wearing a wrestler’s singlet, his ankles stung as they met the water’s edge, the cold water biting in contrast to the warm summer’s sun.

The hell?! Did they –really- have to ice up the water before my turn? I’m going to f*cking kill Shin for this.

His Tel’Gradian friend had bested him in a drinking contest; the wily wizard didn’t factor the significance of a four-whiskey head start when his boasting began. Here, in the middle of the town’s square, he was in broad view, suffering for his shortsightedness. A carriage rolled up aside the gathered crowd as the driving horse relieved himself in a steaming, hay-filled pile of manure upon the cobblestones.

I know the sentiment.

At first, a small boy stood, grappling the small ball which he held aloft with a smile. Storm chattered mildly, careful not to brutally humiliate the boy, who missed his first throw terribly.

“Nice try, son! Do you have any sisters that throw? Were you born right-handed, or was there an injury involved?”

A few snickers and a few sneers erupted from the crowd, where his brand of humor met very mixed results. A tall and strapping man pressed his way through the crowd, handing a coin to the barker, smiling as he flexed beneath his tight tunic for a few adoring ladies. His first throw was mighty, smacking loudly into the rubber mat behind the small metal target. This time, Storm laid off the mercy.

“Ooh, quite the throw there, muscles! Big biceps, little hands… compensating for something? Don’t worry, I’m sure hitting that little metal ring will make up for that little fleshy thing that makes those cute broads giggle when they get together!”

A fast-flushed face filled with fury as the powerful man grabbed a few more, firing a few balls at the target as though the sheer force of will would topple the target. To the shock of none, he was proven wrong, and merely paid to smack the pad with a few hard fired balls. Storm laughed wildly as the big fellow glared at him.

“Looks like your balls will be blue tonight, and mine will be dry. Girls, feel free to ask around about me later; Big Stupid over there doesn’t look like much fun!”

A chorus of laughs came from single men around the crowd; disappointed glares came from families. Several people hovered near the carnival barker, who continued to build up the excitement which undoubtedly accompanied taking a jackass of Storm Vertias’ caliber down a notch. Suddenly, a thin, slender hand emerged from the crowd, dropping a coin in his hand from a low angle.

Goddamnit. God-f*cking-damnit.

None other than Taische O’Sheean arrived, the precocious daughter of Storm whom once called him ‘Uncle”. Several missteps, most of which were attributable to the elder of the tandem, had caused to an unceremonious parting.

“Good afternoon, sweetheart! I’ve missed yo….”

Ker-Thwangg!!!!!

She hadn’t allowed him to finish when the ball struck the target dead center, sending a splash of arctic water up amidst a roar of applause.

((Sorry it's rushed as hell.))

There he sat, a giant behemoth of a skeleton, a war leader in his prime, a killer and monster of the world that every man and woman would fear - Now reduced to a joke that sat hovering over a pool of cold water. A green and red elf hat sat upon his head, as the stale faced, emotionless abyss that was his face stared out at any man fearless enough to try and throw a rock at the triggered target which would swiftly send him into the water.

No one would dare do it, and as expected to Elites delight, everyone passed by the gargoyle looking grumpy skeleton. Even if the thought crossed their mind, those fiery eyes would glared and enrage like only a active fire could. A burning look that would remind anyone that they would regret the day they crossed Elite Optic.

Yet, as time passed, and the festival continued a small child paused before the twelve foot giant.

"Move along child..." He grunted.

The small ginger haired child smiled and grinned. Elite could feel it, the un-punishable child that was not only brave enough, but foolish enough to dunk him of his perch and into the cold icy water of the winter festival. Her hand gripped the throwing ball, and Elite could feel the water calling him, it was time to meet his maker. He has to find some way to stop this from happening, it was time to make the child cry.

"I eat children for breakfast!" He snarled as he pointed his bony finger towards her.

Yet the child was clearly too poor, her old torn clothes were not one of a child who ate much herself. She was skinny and probably starving herself.

"I'll kill your parents!" He shouted brutally, surely this would make her cry and run away.

Yet this child was clearly on the streets, she had no parents of which to kill. His fist clenched in frustration, what could he possibly do to make such a child run away in fear. He rubbed his fingers together in thought as he pondered a fearsome comment, but even then her fingers seemed to wrap tightly around the red throwing ball.

"Is that all you got Mr Skeleton?" The kid mocked as she prepared her throw.

A ha! He had it, he had the solution to his problem. "I killed your parents which is why you're an orphan! Bwahahaha!"

A few tears ran down her face, as he watched his truly incredible reflection of himself slide down her soft cold cheek, he laughed ever louder.

"Up yours mister!" He shouted fiercely, her teeth gritted and her muscles poised to throw the ball. It didn't matter how nasty he could try to be, she was always going to throw the ball. And she did.

Striking the target true, Elite felt the platform beneath his bony ass shift and his body dropped with a sudden rush towards the water below. Hitting the water like a failing elephant it engulfed him into embarrassment and mockery. Splashing about he adjusted himself as his legs went over head, the awkward fall one of amusement for those watching, but one of frustration for himself. Like a drowned cat he waded himself back upright and stood up out of the water. Roaring and shouting like a mighty beast escaping from its jail, and then stared out to look for the child.

Sorian, his companion and the one running the stall had jumped up, his old legs and tired frame suddenly full of life and vigour as he prized the child before them. They cheered and smiled and laughed as he passed her money and a teddy.

Had Elite just played his role to perfection? No one was brave enough to throw the ball, no one but a child, and now she could get something she needed more than anyone else. Yet he was still wet, and the soggy green elf hat sagged over his head as it leaked water down his already soaked bones.

"Shit."

CLOSED!

judging soon

The completely arbitrary and subjective judging has been COMPLETED!

Congratulations Elite Optic for winning the first ever Althygames! With much uproarious applause was the once-powerful undead warlord dunked by none other than a teeny tiny orphan! I tip my hat to you sir, a hat which happens to have 150gp in it.

Second place to Storm Veritas, the ferocity of his heckling matched only by his surprise at seeing Taische O'irishgirl show up to give him a well deserved kick in the pants in the form of a DUNKING! 75gp to you sir!

Third place goes to FennWenn, whose icy gimmick surprised her antagonists and herself alike! A wonderful tale you spun, but alas, no one threw a ball at the contraption that sent the little fae into the water. But still good enough for third! This nets you either the recognition of the great REDFORD in a chat conversation, or a tasty 45 gold! Let me know.



Grand stories and wonderful experiences had by all.