The Sweet Taste of Success

[Sweetie Todd]

Open to one. You can go ahead and create the arena.

It isn't written anywhere in the Code of the Candymancer that, once you are pulled through a dimensional portal and unceremoniously dropped into a strange new world, your first task is to test your mettle against the strongest of that strange new world's wizards and warriors.

But alas, that's exactly what I find myself doing today. Not of my own free will, of course; rather, I seem to have run afoul of a group of ruffians in one of the darker alleyways the city the natives call Radasanth. They insisted on me handing over all my valuables, while calling me "Sunshine" and "Dandy"--both of which I assumed were local colloquialisms for gentlemen dressed in garb similar to my Candymancer uniform.

Of course, I politely refused their one-sided offer. Of course, I was forced to defend myself. Of course, I accidentally broke the jaw of the leader of the pack of smelly mongrels with a swing of the Gobstopper.

Of course, that was when I was overwhelmed and dragged towards this towering stone citadel I currently found myself in, where I was informed that I would feel the pain of death many times over for what I did to the hulking, dirty brute of a man.

A few of the thugs took their places just inside the door, striking up conversations with several of the plain brown robed monks, shooting me nasty looks that implied I would suffer even more pain if I didn't play along with their silly little game.

I swallowed a lump in my throat and wiped off a little blood on my lip that remained from the scuffle in the alleyway. I shuffled deeper into the entryway of this citadel, approaching one of the monks. "Uh--um, excuse me, sir," I managed to squeak out.

The monk, a balding man who looked as if he had seen better days and brighter horizons, looked up from the tome he held open in his hands. "Yes, sir? Can I..." He looked at me for a brief moment, his gaze lingering on my peppermint swirl brooch and wavy cotton candyesque hair before continuing. "Can I help you?"

I shot a worried glance back at the thugs before leaning in close to the monk. My voice was soft, barely louder than the whispers of the swirl-o'-the-wisps of the forests back home. "Can you please tell me where I am, sir?"

The man pursed his lips and took a deep breath in, clearly thinking that I was mad as to not know the hallowed halls that I currently stood dumbfounded in. I let it slide--the reaction was increasingly common among those I made contact with since my transportation to this strange new world. "You are currently standing inside the hallowed halls of the Citadel--"

"Yes," I interjected, "but which citadel is this?"

"It is the Citadel--"

"Which one?"

"The one and only Citadel," the monk said sternly, his eyes flaring up in anger, believing I was wasting his time with a silly little joke.

I snapped to attention, blushing a bit at the man's outburst. "S-sorry... The Citadel, yes, alright." I offered. I decided that finding out this citadel's true name would be something I could do later. I thought for several seconds, choosing my next words wisely. "I'm... not from around here, I guess you could say. Can you please tell me what kind of establishment this is?"

The balding man softly closed the book in his hands and opened his mouth to speak. Our conversation was interrupted by a hearty, but still a little too rough slap on my back that made me wince. "Oul' Sunshine 'ere lost a bet wi' us, Charlie." The thug's accent was thick, but not as much as his vomit-inducing body odor. I turned to see his wicked grin staring at me, complete with six missing teeth. I cringed inwardly. "Weev come t'see that 'ez debt be repait wif' blood, guv."

"A bet. Right." The monk--this Charlie, I gathered--nodded as a bead of sweat formed upon his head. Had he been paid off or even strong-armed by this gang of savage simpletons to ...dispose of those who crossed them? Several beads of sweat formed on my head, clumping wisps of my pink hair. A chill crept down my spine. Nothing good would come from this situation. "This cannot possibly be legal," I whispered softly to nobody in particular.

"As legal as yer' handshake and yer' word, Sunshine. Don' worry; first coupla' deaths are th' most painful."

Wait--the first couple?! What--what have I gotten myself into? What is this place?

Charlie and the dirty brute shuffled me through the massive antechamber towards a wooden doorway. I began to back-pedal, a lump of pure fear forming in my throat. I didn't want to die--once or even multiple times. Especially in this hostile foreign land. I had to return home--I had to help the Council rebuild and avenge my fallen brothers and sisters at the hands of the Saccharinians... I had to track down Nadia and ask her why...

The monk opened one of the myriad of doors that lined the stone walls of the citadel. It revealed a massive portal that shone brightly with pure magical energy. I felt the thug's hand leave my back. Quickly, I spun around... only to catch a heavy leather boot in the stomach that stole my breath and sent me reeling backwards through the doorway. The dirty rat's raspy cackle sounded like a soupy echo in my ears as the portal engulfed me. "Give 'em hell--or go to it. We ain't picky either way, Sunshine. So long as yeh fuckin' pay."

[Pettigrew]

“I’m gonna get eaten’,” Pettigrew grumbled.

"Shut yer cake'ole," his colleague snapped. Her accent bounced off the walls.

Truth be told, he had only been consumed completely the once. Three weeks ago, upon his first arrival in the city of Radasanth a rather large example of the bovine – with a touch of the demonic, took it upon himself to get a taste of thespian. As it turned out, much to Pettigrew Jone’s disgust, he tasted quite like chicken.

"The cow...," he half-whispered, as though he were scared of being overhead.

“The cow was a one off, Pete,” Lisa sighed.

Standing side by side, the tailor and the leading man of the Restless Fugitive troupe were quite the kooky looking duo. She, tall, enigmatic and pierced in thrice-untold extremities. He, lanky, grubby faced, and holding the powers of the infinite somewhere in his half-empty head.

“That’s what the cow said,” the bard replied. He wiped the snot from his top lip, wetted his curled fringe, and rolled his hips. “Do you know how uncomfortable it is to see ya’sen get eaten?”

Unfortunately, for Pettigrew, the nature of his infinite talents meant he reincarnated quicker than the creatures foul of the world could finish him. He had stood, mortified yet transfixed, watching every chew and crunch. Each subsequent bout in the Citadel had done little in the way of providing a distraction.

“I will remember to talk to you about it should I ever develop omnipotence and immortality,” she retorted sharply.

Ten feet ahead, the all-too-familiar doors leading into the arena cracked open. Like buttocks parting, the oak panels gave way and revealed an idyll. Pettigrew was surprised at first, to see such beauty, and then remembered what happened the last time he was lulled into a false sense of security by the Aibron’s fickle imagination.

“I bet they’re poisoned,” he huffed. He bounced across the threshold before Lisa could lash her razor tongue in response. The door slammed promptly shut.

Green grass as far as one could see told Pettigrew he was either alone, or his opponent was invisible…subterranean…or hiding high above in the fluffy white clouds dredged from the sickliest sweet fairy-tale. He checked his belt, a dagger strapped there present and calling to be drawn. He looked east. Nothing. He looked west. Nothing. He looked south, over his shoulder, and there found nothing. Turning north, he saw a shimmer. A door. A possibility.

“Ah-ha,” he grinned.

Yellow buttercups danced in a lavender breeze, and tulips in clumps of red and yellow blooms swayed in a rhythmic crosswind. Purple gobbets, dew, perhaps, dripped from every petal promiscuous.