A Sheep in Wolf's clothing

We put up the first official showing of the Guild o'Gimmicks this morrow. Jelrin and I performed a little story I cooked up some hours before (yes, that's about as much fore-planning I can keep in my head, alright?). I call it - tada - A sheep in wolf's clothing.
It's about a wolf who kidnaps a Princess (that turns out to be a jester but the wolf is near-sighted so he never knows). The reason is not to eat her, but to convince her that he is a great dancer and also worthy of attending the ball. The jester/princess is a picky type though, demanding great sacrifices from the wolf in order to deem him worthy of the ball -- first he has to learn to stand on two legs, then to get rid of his tail, his fur and eventually everything that makes him wolf (we had a bucket of water so Jelrin could wash his sooted face off at the end). By that time I'd say the audience was mostly rooting for the poor dance-interested wolf rather than the picky princess - just as I had hoped! And in the end it turned out the princess/jester (that'd be me) really couldn't dance at all -- and it is the wolf that rejects her ("No ball for you!" was the running slogan throughout). So he goes to the ball whereas she is left in the woods, crawling into the empty wolf's pelt he left behind ... mmmmm, symbolism.

Jelrin made a great performance as the wolf and looked positively horrendous with that big old wolf's pelt and sooted skin.  I never thought he'd actually jump into the crowds to have them rip the tail off him!  He cut the tail beforehand, but good thing that Skrell'eth was there or he would still be there tugging ... Good times. I think the crowd was pleased, I love to see so many smiles around. The kids loved it, I could tell, and that's always the best measure.

Afterwards, a pompous fellow appeared and thanked us, the Guild o'Gimmics, for the show. Put flower circlets on our heads and everything. I was too baffled to even thank him properly. Oh and he paid us too.

Festival!

The Milford Harvest festival is upon us! Thanks to two bored city watchmen I was not partying yesterday though, but was chasing all over town trying to get my hands on a 'white permit' thingie they told me I needed to get out of the South gate. Which you don't. There is no such thing as a white permit. Watchman humour at its best. Never listen to giggling watchmen I tell you - especially not when you wear a large belled hat on your head.

Finally got hold of Jelrin anyway, and in normal fashion we utterly failed to plan anything even remotely coherent for a joint performance. So improvisation it is, which is what we're best at, anyway (Jelrin's pretty good at drinking too, I give him that). Oh - and today there is a 'bachelour's auction', which means that a bunch of (hopefully) good looking single men will stand on a stage while women throw money at them. I think it's a hilariously funny idea!

Sittable armour

Armour is a funny thing. Heavy, pointy, hard and impressive looking. It certainly doesn't look comfortable and must be terribly warm to lug around. I once tried to lift one of those plates you put over your chest, and let me tell ya - if I were to strap that on me, I would do a lot of things, but walking would not be among them.  

Sitting on it works fine though!

 ... Because luckily not everyone's as small and wussy as me. One of the blacksmith's prime clients must surely be the Lord Watch Captain Kelindel. Big rock of a man he is, every step rattling and chiming with the metal of armour and weapons. People say the Captain's a hard man, but he's always been very nice to lil' me and I like him lots. The other day he came by on his rounds and noticed I in vain tried to look above the heads of some people. So he offered me to sit on his shoulder - and his armour was really good to sit on  once you get on top of it! Gods, to have such strength - he seem to have no trouble carrying both all that armour and me at the same time.
We must have made quite a sight walking down the street - a fully armoured watchman captain with a small colourful blob of a jester on his shoulder. I'm sure the crime rate of Seahaven dropped immediately with such a duo patrolling its streets!

Festival!

Thankyou, lord of luck, for today you were really generous to this little wee fool! I was standing today at my usual spot in the crossroads trying my best not to mind my own business. I was busy meeting plenty of nice people, chatting about silly things and juggling all that I could get hold of in the faces of those daring to come within three feet of me. That is, the usual thing. A smile here, a smile there.  Good stuff.

Then, suddenly, there's this nobly-looking fellow that stops right in front of me. He looks down on me (which is not hard) along the length of his nose and looks really thoughtful. I of course smile up at him, wondering what he's thinking about. We stand like that for a while.
"Hope ya're having a fine day milord?" I ask him after a while - you know, to get him going. It's not like he's really hearing me though. He keeps looking down at me and not until another good while does he finally say something, albeit not something particularly informative: "You, you there." he says. I nod patiently, because well, it's only me there. "Are you a jester?" he continues. With a big whopping belled hat on my head I can't really deny that. So I answer him, that yes, that is indeed what I am. And a fool to sport. 
... And then he promptly offers me a job! And not just any job - as a hired performer at the coming harvest festival! Just like that! Hired entertainment - that's me! He mentioned something about payment too, but by that time I was too busy dancing with farmer Glick's prize cows to really care.

I'd planned to go to the festival anyway of course - wild horses would not have stopped me - but to have someone just show up in a crowd and actually invite me to it! That's just so funny I don't know what do with myself. Thanks mylord Elbahn, you surely had a blast with me today.

Say 'hi' to Mrs Buttons!

I have a puppet. A sweet little jester-girl handpuppet with a red hat and buttons for eyes. I call her 'Buttons' and I made her myself - I'm very proud of that. The only problem is that she won't shut up. Not only is that one of the most talkative hand puppets I've ever met, she's really nasty to me most of the time too. Quite a chip on her shoulder she has, that puppet.
... But heck, I like her anyway (just don't tell her), and people tend to do too. Met a sweet gal in the square today. Didn't get much time to talk to her, but she liked Buttons (again, don't tell her, she'll be completely impossible!) and dropped a coin on my foot - which Buttons then promptly tried to steal - before she rushed off.

Lots of reconstruction employment going around - a whopping ten silvers a day too. If I was strong enough to carry more than my own hat that would sound like a fun deal. But surely the workers should need some good fashioned entertainin' though when they lug around in their bodily odours ...?
... Oh, hush Buttons. I don't smell!