"'E's aft'r meeee!"

[Garwocket]

“Here we are!” the man was completely enthusiastic, too much so. His voice carried through the sharp, small ears of the little imp. What the hell could be so important that he would have to yell anyway? “The grand city of Radasanth… bet you’ve never seen somethin’ so big, huh?”

From the back of a rickety cart, pulled by two smelly (and always shitting) horses, was the newest imp to Althanas. He was a curious fellow, dressed in a flashy and vibrantly exciting set of queer clothes. Being only thirteen inches made it difficult for him to fight his way from within the hay pile he had been resting. But as soon as he did, he was rewarded with the most grand of sights he had beheld since his leave as a consciousness imp on Earth.

“Ay!” He nearly screamed as he tossed his small frame from the back of the cart. He landed, with a cacophony of bells and loose objects rattling, on a pair of soft and overly pointy shoes. At the end of the green slippers the extra cloth curled, a small bell playing softly with every step or motion. “Issit alrigh’ iffin’ I ma’ jusss giv’ ye’a tippa the ‘at an’ b’on mah way?”

“Little guy,” the man responded with a broad, stupid grin. His face was pockmarked and rather fat, greasy and dripping with sweat. He had talked the little imps head off when first he had asked to hitch a ride to town… now he could tell why. With a face like that Garwocket dared to believe that he had very few people to talk to, especially if he had spent his life in the fields with none but the growing crops to humor him. “I have no clue what you said, by the gods I swear that… if you’re off though, be careful. This is a big city, easy to get lost, easy to get something swiped from you.”

“I Amn’t a theef, thass fer sh’r, I don’ lik’em, nadda bi’.” The small man, with his pointy boots, long and floppy hat, and unique blend of baubles across him turned away in an almost militaristic about face movement. He took a rather dramatic step, and was off. The poor Radasanthian district had no clue what trouble the imp was about to bring, whether it was intentionally done or not…

~*~

“I foun’ ‘t! Tis min’!”

Only minutes in and already the imp was causing a ruckus. Diagonally strapped around his chest was a large silver watch. It bounced up and down rather dramatically as the small man sprinted for all he was worth. His little feet were doing little for him though, allowing him a mere two to four inches with each stride. But he darted like an arrow through the tightly packed streets. Those that he could not squeeze through where given a rough shove at calf’s height, undoubtedly ignored as a small child.

Behind him was a very angry man. His crazy hat had been the original bauble that the little imp had been aiming for, but the watch took as much ingenuity and dexterity that he had to obtain. Good think it was only borrowed, bad thing the heavy human chasing him with the mallet and knives wasn’t so nice a sport about it…



Translations:
~Is it alright if I may just give you a tip of the hat and be on my way?~
~I am not a thief, that’s for sure, I don’t like them, not a bit.~
~I found it! Its mine!~




((Have at it. Closed to Christoph.))

[Christoph]

Almost every day, there seems to be a near-tangible gap between what you plan and expect, and what actually happens. Perhaps you work at a tavern and you expect business to be slow because it’s a church day. Yet, somehow, you’re busier than ever and it makes you wonder where all these irritating, unwashed, rude customers came from! And the owner says that beer mugs are not to be broken of their heads, even if it’s the only way to shut them up! AND—I may be getting off track.

The point is, things rarely go as planned and everyone finds themselves in situations in which they did not anticipate. For example, when I finally arrived in Radasanth after leaving my hometown in Salvar and stopping at Scara Brae, I was looking forward to a cheerful day of conducting business deals with warehouse owners and shippers, strolling through the sunny marketplace, and visiting local pubs to drink and flirt with attractive barmaids. Unfortunately, my day went something like instead…

~From the Memoirs of Christopher Knighton



The great city of Radasanth was a remarkable sight to behold. If there were a place that could be called a great, shining city, it would be the legendary capital of Corone. The architecture was unlike anything else in the world. There were many similarities to other forms, but it was still it’s own. The buildings were tall and built with a both beauty and sturdiness, the streets were straight, and everything was orderly and efficient. For this reason, a certain event that might seem normal for most cities was rather out of place in Radasanth.

"Get back here you greasy little rat!"

The shout of an angry voice carried over the bustling marketplace of Radasanth as a young man in white charged down the streets. He dodged bystanders where he could and pushed them aside when he could not. The man was still fully adorned in his chef's attire. He wasn't as neat and trim as usual, though; his coat was baggy and hung from his arms and body, the strong and defined features of his face had taken on a sandpaper like texture from a lack of shaving, and long curly locks of brown hair escaped from his poofy white hat like sauce boiling over the sides of a pot.

Angry shouts followed after him as he plowed his way through crowds, wooden mallet in hand. On the whole, Christopher’s current situation seemed remarkably familiar. It was only two weeks ago that a pet monkey in Scara Brae had stolen his watch. It was the only item that his father had left him. Because of this, he’d always guarded it fiercely – which was probably why it hadn’t been stolen more than twice. Both times had been in a crowded marketplace in broad daylight. Even the thief in question was not considerably different than the monkey of Scara Brae, aside from the fact that the monkey was cleaner, prettier, and didn’t have pointy ears.

“Get back here!” Chris yelled as he charged through the mobs of busy people. He spotted the little thief for a moment before he--it vanished. “Thief!”

[Garwocket]

If it wasn't for being chased by a mallet wielding madman the day would have been a perfect one to just mill about. Overhead the sun was shining, but not overbearing. Drifting clouds lazily floated across the sky with very little to rush them. Those that had the opportunity to wander about had smiles on their worn faces. It seemed that the recent uprising and quasi-civil war was barely affecting the overall perfection of the nice day.

But Garwocket's days were never filled with quiet walks and gentle strolls. He was always on the run, always fleeing from some angry person. The little imp was always running, but never seemed to get the idea that 'borrowing' little baubles forever was not the best course of action.

"Watch it!"

People were so irritable if they were bumped unexpectedly. The imp just screamed back random, always unintelligible, retorts to the angry people. His little legs were betraying him though. They burned from running, despite how many times he had taken flight from some pursuing person.

"Ohf!" Garwocket found the worst person in the bunch, and ran right into them. A small group of guards were standing stock still in the middle of the cluttered road. Instead of bouncing off of them like he had all the other people, the imp hit the first man like a brick wall. "Wa'th!"

"Look what we have here," the guard said. He had to crane his head and actually point for the others to see him. The others turned and laughed at the peculiar sight. Garwocket was an odd individual, garbed in a long green coat with his lackluster baubles across it. His long legs, in comparison to his body, were covered by a striped off-white and red pair of stockings. On his little feet were a pair of pointed green boots with a small bell at the end of both. "Seems this little one wasn't watchin' where he was going."

"Ay!" Garwocket yelled, trying to cut through the gruff laughter of the big men. The imp pulled the shiny watch off of his body, pushing it up to emphasize it. "Ay, yer g'rds'ight? Th'rs a bigg'n ch'f chas'n me! 'E's gotta mall't'n's tryin'ta pla' wak'a'imp! 'E's aft'r me ba'bl!"

"Did any of you get that?" The guards in the back, with the beard, asked. He had a look of utter confusion on his back, but circled around the first one nonetheless. The other took the other flank, all three pairs of eyes looking down on the ugly little mug of the imp. "Seems that he said something about being chased..."

Translations...
~~What the!

~~Hey!
~~Hey, your guards right? Theres a big chef chasing me! He's got a mallet and is trying to play wack-a-imp! He's after my bauble!

[Christoph]

The chef plowed his way through the mod of shopping pedestrians. His determination hadn't faded yet, nor had it been drowned out by the angry shouts of those he almost knocked over. That thieving... thing couldn't have gone far; Chris vowed that he would find it. However, if he didn't want the little sneak to escape, there would need to be no slowing down. It shocked and almost appalled him at how little he cared as he pushed people aside and ignored them as they grabbed onto him.

Finally, a gab in the crowds! Chris stumbled and nearly fell as the resistance of a sea of bodies vanished in an instant. The stench of sweat, breath, and perfume faded so quickly that his vision spun at first. Risking a moment to catch his breath, the mallet-wielding chef glanced around.

People... carts... people... livestock... so many damn people... Guards... dirty little man... peop-- His eyes narrowed; he almost charged at the thief. The guards proved to be a deterrent, however. The time had come to keep his wits. He took a deep breath and collected himself as pedestrians strolled by, bumping into him with their dirty bodies and shooting the chef irritated glances, as though not being in constant motion were a criminal offense...

"Guards!" Chris called, striding purposefully toward the guards and the thief. He carefully kept the tone of his voice calm. He did allow an obvious hint of irritation to remain, of course. "That creature stole my watch." It was only then that the chef realized that his mallet was still in his hand. Hopefully the guards wouldn't get the wrong idea -- or the right idea, if they weren't understanding people.

[Garwocket]

Between themselves the guards kept up their little conversation, trying to figure out what to do with the little imp. He obviously said that he was being chased, that someone was trying to take something he had, so it was the responsibility of theirs to assist it. But it was such a queer looking individual, something obviously not of the city. It also looked to be something of a troublemaker, with its long nose and beady eyes.

"Well..." the first guard said after a bit of hurried and hushed deliberation, "I see no reason not to help you. The code for Radasanth is innocent until proven guilty, and none have come to prove your guilt." The man scratched his unadorned head and shook it at the small man. What a predicament.

Meanwhile, since the big people were obviously trying to decide his fate, Garwocket let his mind and eyes wander. He had traveled, very quickly, into the heart of the Bazaar. The closest stalls were covered with the dead carcasses of poultry and foul. What was worse, caged next to the stalls were live animals just like those dead on the table. Such a travesty.

Out of nowhere, the chef appeared. A light coat of sweat was budding and slipping from his round face. He was young, but quite thick, and with that fluffy hat atop his head he looked almost as ridiculous to the imp as the imp did to everyone else. He was still holding his mallet, and Garwocket could assume his deadly intent was still flaring. "You stole it did you?"

"Ay, who's 'ere firs'? Tha'd b'me. I's sai'tha' I's be'n chass'd, n' he c'n juss c'me up'n... Bould'rdash!" Garwocket threw his hands about, causing a spectacle and a show. People who had been contentedly moving about where turning to see what was happening. The guards decided to move closer to the chef, with his mallet still clutched in hand.

"We have to take everything into consideration," the first guard said as he moved to place a hand on the chef's shoulder. "If we jump to conclusions on either side we will quickly be dealing with quite a mess, won't we? So, how about you tell us your side of the story..."

Translations.
~~Hey, who was here first? That would be me. I said that I was being chased, and he can just come up and... Boulderdash!

[Christoph]

The chef stifled a grumble and patted and straitened his rather loose chef coat around his fairly modest frame. Amusingly, it had fit him perfectly before he’d left Salvar. He eyed the guards, doing well to mask his irritation. They were tall and tan; one had black hair and the others had brown hair. Chris guessed that they couldn’t have been much older than he was. They crossed him as the types who took their job a little too seriously. Why are guards never rash and xenophobic when you actually want them to be? Shrugging impatiently, the chef decided to play their game for the time being.

“My side of the story?” asked Chris. He stepped to the side, letting the guard’s hand fall off his shoulder. He glared down at the imp. “That’s simple enough. I was standing in line at a vegetable stand when this little thief bumped into me and snatched my watch from my pocket.” The chef paused for an instant. He would need to make sure that the little creature had no way of refuting his claim or making more of a scene than there was already going to be.

“And I can prove it,” he declared, folding his hands behind his back. He took a deep breath and exhaled with a sigh as he searched his visual memory. He didn’t even bother to maintain direct eye contact with the guard; there was little point because he didn’t need to convince anyone of his honesty when hard evidence was present. “The watch in question is silver and it has an engraved design of a Salvarian polar bear on the front. Pressing the button on the side opens it. It was three hands, all of which are gold, as are the numerals. The background is polished black onyx with the initials ‘RPK’ inscribed in gold. Feel free to check; you will find that everything I’ve said is true... because the watch belongs to me.”

[Garwocket]

Luckily for the little thief (though he would never accept the term easily) the guards were both reasonable and quite respectable. Of course, being reasonable meant little to the rather chaotic imp. Being respectable only meant that he would be able to use you. And, as far as he could assume, the quietest of the bunch was the weakest… hopefully.

When the lead guard placed his hand on the chef’s muscular shoulder, Garwocket moved. He was quick, stealthy, sneaking around the small bunch. Being only thirteen inches had many advantages, the first and foremost of which was being able to not be seen. Using his size to full advantage, the little imp snuck around and gripped the bottom of the quiet guard’s pants. He scaled the man quickly, easily. He looked down and grunted, but accepted it quietly enough.

“You should probably let me off,” he suggested to the guard. It was one of his leftover powers from Earth, the ability to manipulate the minds of those that are open to suggestions. The guard, who seemed to be the quiet and weak one, however was not moved. Instead of sending the suggestion to the others, he took a single finger and bopped the little imp on the forehead. The imp grunted and rubbed his head and listened just long enough for the man to call out what the watch looked like.

“I’m innocent though,” the imp imparted to the other guard who was not the leader, “I’m only a foot tall… how could I even reach his pocket?”

“He’s only a foot tall though, his reach would be hardly able to get into this man’s po—“ the man instantly responded just before he blushed. It was odd seeing a blush from the shaggy brown haired man, especially when it was from beneath the rough facial hair. He turned to look at the first guard Garwocket had tried it on, a glare coming to his face. “You little bastard!”

Anger, it was an almost commonplace emotion surrounding the imp. Garwocket, however, did not expect the man to be able to pull his thoughts back together so quickly. It was time to ditch them, and he had already formulated a plan of escape. As quickly as he could he tore a loose bandana, or handkerchief, from the guard and dropped. He pushed off the guards shoulder and dropped to the ground, hitting it at a run. Dust kicked up around him, trailed him, and followed him all the way to the vendors stall.

“Quack!” The duck that was stranded in the cage looked far from pleased at his sudden arrival. The chickens and other ducks in the adjoining cages reacted the same way. Garwocket wasted no time in slamming a small fist into a number of cages and opening their petty latches. “QUUUAAACCCKKK!”

On top of theft, manipulating an officer of the watch, the imp had tossed on the charge of disturbing the peace and another count of theft. The first duck that roared from its cage in surprise and relief was instantly jumped on. Birds flapped their clipped wings in a flurry of feathers. Cries caused the general populace within the square to turn and look at what had caused the commotion. The loudest of all of them was the vendor, who had stopped hawking his live catch and instead turned his voice against the little man.

“T’lly ho!” The thief cried as he tossed the bandana under and over the other side of the duck and mounted it. Within an instant the little man was mounted and atop the critter, its small body rocking back like a rearing mount. “Hi ho s’lv’r!”

To top it off, the little man threw his other spell out to confuse and distract. A second projection of himself suddenly appeared and mounted a chicken next to him. In the flurry of feathers and cries of anger he only hoped it would be hard to tell which the real one was. “Follow that little one, I’m going to follow this one. Come with me!”


~Tally ho!
~Hi, Ho, Silver!

[Christoph]

(To the song “Yakety Sax.”)



I could do little more than stand there stupidly as the entire scene unfolded before my eyes, a fate that I’d only ever reserved for those stupid side-kicks in the stories I used to read as a boy. One moment, it seemed as though I had won the guards over and that the situation would be resolved quickly, the next moment, the imp was trying to appeal the guards and get them to believe him instead, and then out of almost nowhere, the slimy little creature bolted away like a spooked rodent. Irony? I think not! Spooked rodent indeed…

Now, I’d seen some pretty strange things in my life up to that point, but in all seriousness, nothing had prepared me for the sheer… hilarity… of a tiny man mounting a duck. Honestly, it would have made a great comedy performance for one of the theatres in Radisanth. Apparently, he’d also summoned some sort of decoy, but I had been so wrapped up with the duck rider that I hadn’t even noticed. In fact, it wasn’t until the guard officer yelled at me that I snapped out of my daze and gave chase to the watch-stealing creature!

From the memoirs of Christopher Knighton




“Ah! Right!” Chris snapped from his daze at the sound of the guard’s voice. Of course! The thief was escaping... on a duck! Wait, there was another one riding a chicken. Fortunately, the guard officer shouted and order, saving the chef the trouble of deciding which one to chase. He and the officer would be pursuing the duck rider.

By the gods, this is awkward. I cannot believe that I’m seriously running down the street, chasing a tiny man riding who’s riding poultry.

And so, the chase was on... again. This time there were more people involved. That, of course, meant even more collateral damage. A chorus of angry shouts and the chaotic combination of thudding boots accompanied the frightened quacks the duck being ridden as the guards and the chef split up to pursue both targets through the swarming market.

First, there were the crowds. There was something about a street packed that made citizens going about their business very uncooperative. What’s worse, they would then have the nerve get angry when authorities knock them over during a chase because they were too stupid to get out of the way.

Next, there were the merchant carts and stands. To be fair, they were less to blame for their misfortune than the general rabble filling the streets. They could hardly move their wares out of the way before the tiny imp could squeeze by, causing the chase to engulf them and turn their outside stores onto their sides, spilling the contents upon the tan cobbled street like gutted cattle. These individuals were also the most likely to chase after the offenders, waving knives, clubs, fists, or anything else that could inflict pain.

Unfortunately, all of this would surely serve to make the imp even more frantic in his escape, causing the guards and the chef to become even more zealous in their pursuit. Any outside observe would most likely be amused by this constantly-escalating chain of disasters. Christopher, being paradoxically aware of his own dramatic irony, yet powerless to stop it, was not finding the situation to be funny in the least. All he could do was to violently push his way through the mobs of people, following the fap, fap, fap of webbed feet.

[Garwocket]

“What the hell is going on!” the poultry vendor screamed as the flurry of feathers danced around him. His disappointed eyes fell to the crushed cages. He had lost more than one duck and a chicken, more cages had been opened. His entire day, week even, was going to be ten times more difficult than any other because of how much profit he was going to lose. “My animals! My money! I’ll ring that little buggers neck!”

Before the feathers had stopped falling the man had already wrapped a meaty fist around his heavy cleaver. He coughed out a bright hue of orange, red, and yellow feathers. He watched the two groups charge off, one after his chicken, the other after his duck. He saw the guard the already infuriated chef from the previous ‘show’, and figured they knew what they were doing. So, doing what came natural, the man followed the leader and took off after the two.

“Quaaaakkkk!” The duck was probably not the most efficient of mounts. Its clipped wings flapped furiously. Astride a makeshift saddle sat a beaming, almost satisfied imp. Both hands held tightly to the nape of the games neck, holding on for dear life and possible freedom. However, the rider and his less than orthodox mount tore through – literally – the streets.

It was an epic chase scene that unfolded through the already active streets of the Radasanthian Bazaar. The duck ducked -- haha, funny funny -- under carts, took less traveled routes beneath stalls, and sprinted for all it was worth. The imp was not sure if it understood the concept of freedom, or if it even understood what mischief it was being subjected to. However, he was all too happy to have it along.

He turned his grubby little head, looking behind him to see the fat chef and the head guard smash into another stall. The meager contents of the unsatisfied individual dropped with a clatter to the ground. It was a strew of now ruined produce and possibly dangerous weapons that he left in his wake. But it slowed down the pursuers little. They trucked through the mess, creating more of a mess, infuriating parties of hawkers and merchants alike. Behind them was the other merchant, the first one that Garwocket himself had angered.

In one hand he could see a large cleaver being maliciously and less than carefully wielded. The man wanted his duck back. The imp would see to it that he would not get his prize. He turned back to his fine feathered friend and leaned in close. The tip of his hat was frantically dancing with the draft being picked up by the flight, the bell at its tip chiming a merry little tune. “Iffin’ yer don’ get’n f’st’r wr’s gonna be hun’ lika stuved pig! Iss yer freed’m wr’s figh’in fer! Na, ge’ goin’ ya bl’dy r’venus duck!”


~If you don’t get faster we’re going to be hung like a stuffed pig! It’s your freedom we’re fighting for! Now, get going you bloody ravenous duck!

[Taskmienster]

This thread has been waiting for over a year. If you would like to complete it, or work on it further, you can PM myself or another staff member and ask for it to be moved. However, till that time, it will be resting in the Citadel Archive forum.

Thanks,
~Task