Arkold and Alptraum's stay at the Smith Ranch was a welcome vacation, even if they did end up doing some work around the small island. After a few days though, Jayne returned from the docks to let them know that Tulani had returned, and it was time for farewells. Even though the two adventurers declined payment for getting rid of the vampire regiment, they didn't leave empty-handed: Annabelle had both cleaned and mended their travelling clothes, as well as sewn them each some new clothes that would hold up better for travelling through swamps.

Gunn had also made sure that Arkold would have as much smoked bacon, ham and jerky as he could carry, and given Alptraum some blood-spices so that his meals on the road wouldn't have to be so bland. The young Eeee also made a point of telling the gypsy that there would be enough to last him until his birthday, when he was expected to return for the winter dance.

The pair was also given some sketches drawn by Lacrimosa to remember their experience, usually depicting them in heroic poses over their vanquished zombie, vampire and werepoodle foes from the attack on the island. She also gave Alptraum a few redone and cleaned up versions of his own attempts at sketching, quite a few of which were of a private nature.

Back at Bog Bend, they reunited with Tulani, whose brief stint on the river provided her with some useful information about their chosen route - namely that parts of the road had been flooded out to the north. The Sphynx had learned of an alternate, little used route that lead through the swamp region to the village of Stonebarrow, where they could detour back to the main route from.

Given the various parasitic, predatory and generally nasty forms of wildlife inhabiting the swamp, the way would have been much more uncomfortable if not for the silver pendant Tulani wore around her neck. The charm worked as promised, and no wild animals or insects would come within thirty feet of it, so long as Tulani wore it. While this meant that Alptraum had to fly some distance to hunt, it also gave him a convenient excuse not to eat with the others, thus keeping his vampirism secret from the Sphynx for the time being.

Alptraum raises an eyebrow. "Stonebarrow, eh? Sounds like a place the undead would love. Frog Festival? You have got to be kidding me," he mutters and shakes his head. He combs through his hair with his claws and says, "Let's stick together, eh? This bodes to be, well, ridiculous. And no getting any frog-on-a-stick, eh? That's just wrong."

"Eh," says the wolf man, "I ain't seen a festival yet that I didn't like. Beer, wine, beer, food, beer, and ah … beer are usually around festivals. You stick together. I'll stick to eating."

Tulani chuckles lightly and makes a face, sticking out her tongue at the thought of 'frog on a stick' before speaking, "Sounds interesting though," and then murmuring, "Hmm… frog on a stick… well, you never know."

"Or it might stick to you," Alptraum quips. "They might put slime on everything."

The sign outside of the sole inn names it as 'The Frog and Peach', and indeed depicts a large frog with a peach in its mouth. A hand-painted sign propped up outside the door reads, "Frog Princess Final Judging Tonight" with "Live Music" added underneath. A long line of Skeek and Kadie children wait outside the entrance, each of them clutching a damp sack or holding a covered bucket. Not far from the front of the line are a pair of identical looking short-muzzled Kavis carrying a large covered tub between them, from which splashes and chirps can regularly be heard.

Alptraum glances at Arkold, then nudges Tulani. "I bet we could get Arkold to win the Frog Princess crown. Think we should sneak-enter him?" he whispers. His wings stretch out slightly, then fold back and the claws snikt around his neck and lock together, making his wings appear capelike.

"Frog and a Peach, huh. I think I had one of those once. Fermented fruit and … uh, heh, no that was something completely different. Ugh." The Jupani grimaces and looks a bit green to boot.

The black Sphynx stifles a chuckle at Alptraum's comment before clasping her hands together and giving Alptraum a soulful look. Snickering, she says in Sylvanian, "He would be the belle of the contest!"

"Aye, just picture him in a nice green flowing dress!" Alptraum replies in Sylvanian. He glances over at Arkold, then back at the inn, and adds, "Well, hey, if it makes Arkold green, we have to stay there. Come on, let's price some rooms." With that, he heads toward the door.

Following Alptraum to the door the Sylvanian Sphynx pauses to smile and comment to Arkold, "Well! Let's see how green their drinks are!"

While the ceiling is high enough to accommodate taller folk, just about everything else in the tavern section of the Frog and Peach is scaled to the comfort of those of shorter stature. The sole exceptions are two tables against the back wall, one long and one short, which are standard sized – but currently occupied. At the long table, a black-furred, bespectacled young Gallee is arguing over a spread of papers covered in diagrams and columns of numbers with several older Gallahs. The smaller table next to it is set with a fine porcelain tea service. A Skeek in an uncomfortable looking uniform attends to the two occupants; an older Gallee woman dressed in a conservative cream-colored dress that contrasts strongly with her black fur, and a young Gallee girl of similar coloration dressed in a frilly pink dress, complete with petticoats and a large bow tied in her hair. On the floor next to the woman sits a large black pig sporting a single patch of curly black hair on its head.

The Gallee women look bored, and the pig just snorts and grunts to itself as if it were muttering. On the small stage at the opposite end of the room, a band plays music that can best be described as 'folksy' on instruments that appear to have been cobbled together from empty bottles and laundry gear, including a washboard, a large jug, and some sort of stringed instrument made from a broom and an overturned bucket. The musicians are more of those odd, dark-colored Kavis.

The line of children ends here, next to a small table flanked by two large barrels. A smiling adolescent Skeek wearing a green felt hat takes each child's bundle and empties it out into one of the barrels before handing them a little wooden token. The children are clearly bringing in live frogs, and the bigger the frog the bigger the token they receive.

"Wow, and I thought I'd seen backwater before," Alptraum comments in Babelite to himself. He scratches his neck lightly, then shrugs. He tries to weave through the children and people, looking for the counter or bar.

The bar runs next to the stage, and is staffed by a Lapi girl in typical Sylvanian 'serving wench' attire and a portly older Skeek gentleman in a gaudy purple and silver vest.

Tulani stops and blinks momentarily at the frog barrels. "Wow, that's a lot of frogs," she says before smiling and looking around the rest of the room, only a brief frown at the Gallee's showing her momentary irritation.

Arkold casts a glance around the place as he steps inside. "Nice, nice. Pretty homey. Not too pretentious. Well, except the Gallees," the wolf thumbs at them, "-but Gallees are always pretentious. Unlike Jupani. We're universally loved." He grins and begins walking towards the bar.

"Barkeep," Alptraum calls out in Sylvanian. "My companions and I are passing through. How much for a few rooms at the farthest side of the inn?" He almost leans on the bar, then realizes to do so would put him at a rather awkward angle, given the size adjustments in the room. So, he fiddles with his jacket instead.

At the sight of the hulking Jupani and the spooky looking Eeee, the barmaid's ears go pale and she quickly runs into the kitchen, leaving just the Skeek at the bar. "Oh, o-ho! Strangers! Welcome to Stonebarrow, friends. Here for the Festival?" the mouse asks in a jovially squeaky voice. "Oh my, rooms you say? Hmmm, that is a bit of a problem at the moment, a-hah, since Mr. Richebeau has rented out every one you see. But there is the guest cottage, if that would be more to your liking?"

"Uh, universal love occasionally causes young women to flee into the kitchen," remarks Arkold as he scratches his head at the Lapi's display.

Alptraum watches the barmaid run off. He checks his breath briefly, wondering. He then just shrugs and says, "Could be. Where's it at and does it have at least a couple separate rooms? And, er, what does it cost?"

Tulani smiles politely to the Skeek, and looks after the fleeing Lapi before turning to survey the room once more.

The Skeek's eyes twinkle at the mention of cost. "Well, the Deluxe Cottage comes with two rooms, an indoor water closet, equipment shed, and close access to the pier for those making an attempt on the Barrow. The rates are very, very reasonable too!" the man says, sizing up the trio as to their total worth.

Nearby, the beady eyes of the pig are staring at Alptraum's back, but only Tulani can see this. The twins with the large bucket are at the table now, proudly hauling out amphibians for inspection. The washboard player winks at the Sphynx and wiggles his long whiskers.

The Eeee smirks. "I'm certain. Now, what are those rates, eh? And it won't be full of frogs, will it?" he asks.

"Well, the rate is… dependant on how long you plan to stay, really," the mouse explains. "The longer you stay, the lower the rate, and there may be additionally discounts if you hire local help to assist in your activities."

The black and white Sphynx smiles at the washboard player, wiggling one of her own ears at him in return, before turning to stare back at the pig.

Arkold walks around the bar counter and leans to peer back into the kitchen. "Hey, uh miss? We're not goin' to cause any problems. Miss? Hello?" His tail begins to wag as he leans, as if he were having some fun with this. "I only become raving, insane, lunatic, and, heh, moody when I don't have anything to drink? Heeeeellloo?"

Alptraum glances at Arkold and Tulani. "Well, how long do you two plan to stay? If it's not long, we can always just camp in the woods. I'm sure we could find a dry spot or two," he says.

Tulani looks up from her staring match with the pig and says, "I though we should move along fairly quickly."

With a startled squeak the Lapi server jumps straight up and bonks her head on the ceiling, having been just within the doorway eavesdropping. "Oh! Ahhh, we don't serve meat! I mean, we can, but usually don't! Unless you ask special!" she blabbers at Arkold.

"Quit scaring the poor lady," Alptraum teases Arkold and grins fangily. "We'd likely only be here a day or two. We've got some places to be, and we've probably wasted more time than we should have so far," he says to the barkeep.

Turning towards the jumpy Lapi and smiling warmly the Sphynx gestures to Arkold and whispers, "Don't worry, he doesn't really bite."

There is some commotion at the long table, as the argument between the Gallisians reaches a peak when the black poodle yells, in Standard, "I could hire three Earth Mages for that much, and they'd guarantee the work!" This causes both the Gallahs and older female poodle to suck in their breath in shock. The pig takes the opportunity to make a charge towards Alptraum's legs, squealing angrily!

Tulani turns quickly towards the commotion, blinking confusedly at the charging pig, before moving to push Alptraum out of the way.

"Hey I like meat," the wolf tells the Lapi. He wags his tail some more and beckons her on out. "Now c'mon, eh? I hate when people hide from me like I'm going to bite them." He seems quite oblivious to the arguments across the room – or the struggling.

"Well," the Lapi girl says, finally easing back towards the doorway. "What can I get you then, sir?"

Alptraum lets out a very high-pitched shrill of surprise (in the Eeee high range), trying to jump out of the way the moment Tulani pushes him. He surges upward into the air and cocks his legs underneath him, landing onto the bar top where his toe and hand-claws dig in for balance. His wings spread out wide to protect them from being hit by the pig and his eyes narrow. For a moment, Alptraum looks very much like a gargoylesque statue.

The porcine is slow to react to his target having vanished, and smashes headlong into the bar beneath Alptraum. Wood cracks, and the angry pig pulls itself free to glare at the closest thing resembling its initial prey: Tulani.

"Ahheee!" squeaks the Skeek from the other side of the counter, as he dives down to keep rattling glassware from tumbling off of the shelves beneath the counter. "The chevalier is on a rampage! Help!"

Rocking back on her feet, Tulani tilts herself away from the boar, spreading her white wings with a loud fwapp and preparing to either dive or jump out of the way.

"I'd like a beer," Arkold announces as if it were some great secret. Then all hell breaks loose behind him. He frowns, rolls his head, and calls out, "Bats, Cats, stop messin' with the pig will you? You're causin' a racket." Then he shakes his head. "Kids."

With his second target out of range, the pig sits down and mutters to itself. The band has stopped playing, since everyone is busy watching the spectacle – except for the Gallees. The young man is trying to work his way around the table, while the woman has gotten up and begun to stride towards the commotion.

"Which sort of beer do you prefer; bark, walnut or grass-seed?" the nervous Lapi asks Arkold.

Alptraum's ear flicks. "Chavelier, eh? And now a pig?" Alptraum thinks, then a wicked fangy grin creeps across his face. His wings snap in and he releases his claws from the bar top to turn around. He eyes the creature, judging just where to strike to kill it. It is a pig after all.

Standing over the pig, the black Gallee woman points at the perched Alptraum with a folded paper fan, and says, "Arrest zis man for provoking the Chevalier!"

"Ah, yes," the Skeek says to the woman from behind the bar. "About that… the topic of building a jail and hiring a police force was to be brought up at the next town meeting, Your Ladyship… "

Arkold thinks on that a moment as he watches the fiasco. Finally he says as if he didn't have a care in the world, "Walnut."

Tulani looks startled for a moment at the woman's outburst before replying loudly, "Provoking?? All he was doing was standing there! It's not his fault it charged." Then she blinks and mutters, "… chevalier?"

The barmaid bows quickly, and goes to fetch a leather tankard of walnut beer for Arkold.

"Control your swine, or I'll do something about it," Alptraum replies in a hissing tone. "It attacked me while my back was turned. I do not see how this is my fault. I am within my right to defend myself."

"Bacon problems bats?" asks Arkold languidly, and with laughter in his voice. "I once knew a Gallee with a krenn named Champion. She called him her 'little champion of fuzzy-wuzziness' or something like that. I swear the old Knights wanted to hang her. You could just feel it behind those masks. Heh."

"Mother!" calls the younger Gallee male, finally reaching the scene and pushing his glasses back up along his muzzle. "I keep telling you keep him tied up!" he says to the woman, then turns to Alptraum and Tulani and bows apologetically, saying, "Please, this is all a misunderstanding. My… father… has had a bad experience dealing with Eeees, is all."

The alleged Chevalier just grunts, and begins snuffling along the floor for fallen bits of food with his snout.

"He's going to have another one if he doesn't back off," Alptraum snaps. "I don't take kindly to being attacked when I'm minding my own business. He takes in a breath and his muscles relax and he says a bit more calmly, "All right, just keep him away from Tulani and myself and I'll drop it."

The Gallee woman says something biting in Gallisian to her son, then turns and flounces back to her table. The young man tries to guide the pig back by pulling on one of its ears, but this just leads to more squeals as the brute refuses to give up its search. "No harm done, and please forgive my mother… she's a bit old-fashioned about things. Doesn't understand that there are better, newer, and more cost-effective ways of managing things and all."

Tulani nods to the young Gallee boy, glancing towards his mother before turning back to check the damage to the bar.

There's a dent where one of the planks is cracked, and the Skeek is already hemming and hawing over it, and writing what looks like a bill on a piece of paper.

"If there's anything I can do to make up for this, just ask," the Gallee offers. Arkold can certainly recognize a Rephidim accent in the man's Standard. "My name is Erik von Richebeau, pleased to meet you," he says to Tulani, extending a hand after giving up on moving the pig.

"Word of advice, if you don't want to deal with Eeee, don't live in Sylvania," Alptraum says to both the pig and the woman. He hops off the bar and refolds his wings to keep them out of the way. He then nods to the younger Gallee and says, "Thanks." He leans his back against the bar and crosses his arms.

"I wasn't aware Gallee marriages included hogs. They must have amended the charter in the Office of Bloodlines or something," Arkold comments idly. He reaches back over his shoulder and paws around for his drink. "He's Rephidimite, bats. Catch the accent, yeah? Might not be as bad."

Taking the young mans hand and smiling politely, Tulani pauses to say, "If you don't mind my asking, how did your father end up like this?"

"You know my opinion on that place," is Alptraum's only response to Arkold.

"Oh, well, he was leading one of those silly raids against the Countess Draco, and… uh, came back… at least, his surviving men claimed that this was him," Erik says, stammering slightly. "Leading the raid got him a land grant from the Marquis, so I left my studies to come and take care of it, before my mother could hire some sword-happy goon to do it instead."

Tulani ahhs for a moment, before looking towards Alptraum and Arkold at the mention of Countess Draco.

Now that the entertainment value of the strangers has dipped below the critical threshold, the jug band starts up again. There isn't any singing, but the strange instrument that could be a cross between an accordion and bagpipes almost sounds like the crooning of a lovesick Dromodon.

"Then I'd say he got what he deserved. I believe that's a message that Sylvania doesn't welcome would-be conquerors. To be honest, he got off lucky. I've seen worse curses done," Alptraum says and shakes his head slowly. "So, what do you intend to do here, von Richebeau?"

"My friend Alptraum is a bit of a stick in the mud when it comes to conquering his home with empty land-grants so the Marquis can fulfill his little political schemes," Arkold notes to the Gallees with a nod towards Alptraum.

The Sphynx adjusts her wings, looking slightly startled by Alptraum's statement, but obviously simply accepts it as what he feels, before turning back to the young Gallee.

Erik actually seems to perk up at the question, and straightens his glasses once more. "Ah! I think this community and its environs can be turned into an example of how Sylvania should really be tamed! I've drawn up plans for draining the swamp to create new cropland, and with a better road the commerce potential goes through the roof! Do you know they grow the best nuts in all of Nordika here? And historically, the best wine too… before everything got flooded generations ago."

Tulani flicks an ear uncomfortably at the Gallee's choice of the word tamed, but smiles at his honest enthusiasm before asking, "What do you think of the Countess Draco?"

"What about the people already here? You going to gut and kill those you find that are different? This is the homeland of the vampiric line of Eeee, you know. And contrary to excuses made, they are not undead, nor supernatural. Or, do you intend to accept them as people to and work with them?" Alptraum asks, tone calm and quiet.

"How do you intend to work with neighboring unconquered cities, towns, huts, and lonely hermits in caves? Do you intend to leave if the people here do not accept your rule, or your plans? Willing to die?" the wolf asks unconcernedly.

The black and white Sphynx simply stands in the background at this round of questions, her ears perked forward, listening for the Gallee's answer.

"Oh, I think I saw her some years ago when I was a stage hand at the Opera in Rephidim," Erik says, rubbing his chin. "I think she was upset about something at the time, but put a bunch of nobles together and they're sure to rub each other the wrong way." To Alptraum, he says, "What, you mean all that monster nonsense? That's another thing I hope to put to rest, that and the silly Gallisian 'tradition' of not making use of magic. I plan to make the locals so prosperous that they can't help but elect me to public office. Or at least keep my programs going. If they're successful, the other communities will take them up, whether or not the Gallisian landlords approve. Hah!"

Alptraum shifts his position. "Public office? Not some fiefdom?" he inquires.

"That's the proper way to run things," Erik insists. "What do Chevaliers know about crop rotation, or road building, or democracy? Nothing! It's no wonder they've been rejected by the Sylvanians. They don't improve anything."

"Sounds too good to be true. But, eh, if you want to help Gallis I guess I cam resist beating you up and stuffing you in a bog." The wolf smirks jokingly and pushes off the counter, beer in hand. "If you do what you say you'd be a great example to the rest of Gallis – and Sylvania."

Standing a bit behind Alptraum and Arkold, while they focus on their questioning, Tulani smiles rather warmly at the Gallisian's answers, nodding.

Erik smiles to Arkold, and says, "Ah, you must be an educated man as well, despite your somewhat rough appearance. Gallis is so… so… last century! Of course, my family thinks I'm crazy. And I suspect the locals here do too." In a lowered voice, he confides, "I think they've been overcharging me for things."

Alptraum's expression lightens some. "Well, if you are sincere in that … Arkold is right. It would be a great example to both. I think you'll find the folks in Sylvania are also more willing to accept that over what is basic slavery … once they realize you're sincere and not loony," he replies with a grin.

"Why, thank you," Erik says, then considers Alptraum's words a bit. "I think. The people of Stonebarrow have been welcoming so far, as long as I don't bring up the T-word. I think they find it all very amusing otherwise."

The Jupani laughs. He leans forward towards the other canine and pats him on the shoulder. "You get used to it. Some nutball tried to spear me with a garden hoe on the way here thinking I was a Gallah invader. Look, how about we give you a hand? Or Dagh, I can. You could probably use some guidance anyway."

"Hmmm, the T-word?" Alptraum inquires, ears canting.

"A hand?" Erik asks, cautiously. "Are you engineers, or mages perhaps? I think the ones I brought in to consult with have just left. They're a bit thin-skinned I believe, especially when I bring up the notion of using mages instead."

Whispering even quieter than before, Erik tells Alptraum, "You know… taxes… " Even that attempt at secrecy gets noticed by an old Lapi near the stage, who thumps his foot hard on the floor when he overhears.

"I've been known to lift a few logs here and there. I'm really more of an adventurer. What I'm suggesting more is a public relations guy. I'm nice. People love me. I'll help you get your plans across in a way that won't get you ending up in a bog. Or as a pig," Arkold offers.

"Look around you. They barely make enough money to survive. You can't tax people when they're on the brink anyway," Alptraum says. "Get them to donate to the common good of the community, in terms of building things and food for those who are very poor. Don't phrase it as taxes that go to one place or person," Alptraum says in a whisper, then shrugs.

"Ah, well," Erik waffles. "You're a bit… big, sir. And the locals, you may have noticed, are not. If I weren't a vegetarian, they probably wouldn't give me the time of day. And as for the T-word… uh, I'm paying for everything myself out of the family fortune. Once the ball gets rolling, and money comes into the village, then I'm sure they'll be more willing to contribute. Then I may even rebuild the old manor house so my mother will stop nagging me about it."

"You might be better off sending her back to Gallis," Alptraum comments idly.

Tulani gives the Gallisian a light reassuring pat on the shoulder, saying, "You're very bright, I'm sure you'll do fine," before taking in Alptraum's comment.

"And don't look at me as a good salesman, I'm creepier than he is," Alptraum adds with a grin.

"I do hope you're all staying for the Festival tomorrow?" Erik asks, looking a bit desperate. "I'd like to get an outsider's opinion on it, to see if it could become a way to attract money… I mean, visitors… to the town? The locals are very proud of it."

"He is," Arkold agrees. "But I'm much nicer than I look. It's charisma, not presence. I got the serving woman to come out didn't I? Eh?"

The Lapi barmaid still sticks to the doorway, rather than coming out to the bar itself. If anyone calls for her, she can probably hear it fine from there.

"Well, it strikes me as a little odd, so it might. I mean, I grew up in Sylvania and this is weirding me out," Alptraum replies and glances toward the pig and the lady. "Say, who is the 'official' owner under the Marquis' opinion of this place?"

"Owner?" Erik asks. "Well, on paper, that would be me, as the sole male heir. Even the Marquis won't recognize a pig as the head of a family. Although really, Mayor Streusel here runs everything," he explains, gesturing towards the gaudily dressed Skeek.

Alptraum rubs his neck and considers, "But, if they find a way to turn him back, then he would be, yes?"

"Oh, I suppose so," Erik agrees. "But to turn him back would require using magic, right? And no honorable Gallisian would do that, you see. Besides, he's a bit more polite in this form, I think."

The Jupani eyes the pig curiously. "Ol' Draco sure has her tricks," he murmurs.

The Honorable Chevalier, Montagne von Richebeau, is currently trying to stick his head into the large frog bucket the two not-quite-Kavis brought in, much to the amusement of the children still waiting in line.

"Well, you see, I was just thinking," Alptraum says and reclines against the bar, "that we could perhaps have a little contract drawn up saying that if we find a way to cure the curse, the lands are signed over to you in perpetuity, to do with as you choose … such as, say, instituting a democracy."

"You are mages then?" Erik asks, looking hopeful. "My mother wouldn't actually allow any magic to be used on old dad, though. She thinks he's just being stubborn and will change back once he gets tired of it."

"I'm not, but I could probably find someone who might be willing to help in exchange for something," Alptraum replies and shrugs. "I have other skills I can offer to people as payment. And who says she has to know?"

During the course of the conversation, Tulani discreetly moves towards the Lapi barmaid, peering around the door and asking for four drinks.

"Well, I suppose that would be alright," Erik says, rubbing his chin. "I'd have to send word back to the family lawyers though, to see about making sure he couldn't just take over again. Oh! If you're staying for the festival, do you need lodging for the night? Now that the engineers have stormed off, I can have their rooms cleaned up for you."

The barmaid brings four more of the leather mugs to the counter for Tulani, each with the local walnut-based beer (it's not very strong, but isn't very chewy at least).

"That would be quite helpful, yes. It'll take time to find someone, most likely, so I suspect you'd have time to contact them," Alptraum replies and looks around the bar. "We could even maybe see about making the cure contingent on his relinquishment of the land … on pain of becoming something he hates even more … like an Eeee."

"Oh my," Erik says, grinning at the thought. "Mother would really be upset with him if that happened. As it is she complains now about him hogging all of the bed sheets."

Dropping some money on the counter and heading back to the group with beer in hand the Sylvanian Sphynx offers a mug each to Arkold and Alptraum, and a third to Erik, smiling and saying, "Thought you guys might be getting thirsty with all these intense negotiations."

Arkold takes a seat nearby and sits with the back of his chair between his legs. He leans on the top. "I'm okay with the College. Don't know much about the local magic workers," he says.

"Oh my, thank you Miss… uhmmm… I don't think I've caught any of your names?" Erik says, looking a bit embarrassed.

Alptraum grins. "Well, it would be an effective deterrent, eh?" he replies and takes a draw from the mug. He licks his lips and considers, "I'm not promising anything, but we'll all do some checking around town and I'll scout to nearby places as well and look for someone who can remove curses. Hopefully, we'll be able to trade some sort of service for it." He then shakes his head, catching Erik's comment to Tulani, "I'm Alptraum Reisender. I doubt you've heard of me."

Smiling politely to the Gallee, The Sphynx replies happily, "My name's Tulani, nice to meet you Erik."

"Oh, right, the College," Erik says, taking a drink and frowning. "There could be some friction with the local talent, to say the least. I'd certainly have to go to them before looking to any outsiders."

Erik bows again to Tulani, and even takes her hand to kiss the back of it. "Charmed, Miss Tulani."

"What they don't know won't hurt then," Alptraum comments.

"I, personally, won't deal with the college. We've had … ah, a few bad run-ins," he adds.

Tulani chuckles slightly at the Gallee's courtly behavior, smiling.

"Ah, but the local talent would know," Erik says ominously. "At least, that's what I'm told. I'm not about to cross a witch."

"Ah, yes. I misunderstood whom you were referring to. Good by me," Alptraum replies.

Looking at across the room, the poodle says, "Speaking of which… heh… the witch is supposed to be here tonight for the final judging. Do you know about the history of the Frog Festival, by any chance?"

"I used to date a witch," Arkold remarks hesitantly. Then he blinks. "OH! Heh. That kind of witch. Nevermind."

"Uuuuh, no," Alptraum replies.

Interrupting briefly, the Black and white Sphynx interjects, "you mentioned some space recently vacated by your engineers?"

"Yes, Miss Tulani," Erik replies. "I had two of the upstairs rooms set aside for them, but after our little disagreement over costs, I don't think they'll be using them."

Tulani says, "You wouldn't mind if we used them would you?"

"Oh no, please be my guests!" Erik says, smiling. "They're already paid for, after all." Overhearing this, the Skeek innkeeper (who also appears to be the mayor) pouts, since it means he won't be renting out one of the more expensive cottages to the travelers instead.

"Works for me," Alptraum comments.

The Sphynx smiles, nodding her thanks to the young Gallee.

Alptraum looks between the Gallee and Tulani. His brow furrows for a moment and he hmms. He starts to say something, but decides to behave for now. "Now, about the history of the Frog Festival?

Tulani brightens up at Alptraum's comment. "Yes please, it sounds interesting, and I don't think I've seen anything like this before," she says to Erik.

"The history of this area is quite fascinating, and the origins of this festival are only one of the highlights," the poodle says, sounding a bit like a tour guide. "For generations, you see, every fifth spring this monster would come and terrorize the town. He was called the Frog King, and had a small army of minions that would wreck the crops, smash up things, and so forth. As is traditional in these cases, the town elders made a bargain to appease the monster by giving him a girl to be his bride in return for not killing and smashing everything. I know it sounds awful, but these are timid folk, remember."

Perking her ears forward, the Sylvanian Sphynx settles herself in a chair to listen.

"Would that be the Frog Princess? I presume some hero came and vanquished the creature?" Alptraum inquires.

"That was the term used, yes," Erik says. "But the hero part is a bit of a twist, you see. There was one girl bold enough to demand to be the next sacrifice instead of her younger sister who had been chosen by lottery. Everyone thought she was crazy, or brave – which is pretty much the same thing around here – but they let her be the chosen Princess instead. And on the appointed day, the Frog King and his horde appeared and demanded his bride, and Yewberry stepped forward in her peasant dress and carrying her broom… and beat nine kinds of hell out of the Frog King, so it's said!"

Tulani grins at this twist in the story and starts chuckling to herself, shaking her head.

Alptraum tries not to laugh. "Sounds like most women, if you ask me," he quips. "They're a lot more evil than they ever let on!"

"Others joined in, and drove off the horde with their brooms as well," Erik says. "Every girl has a broom it seems, which I do admit is a bit odd. Anyway, there was a big celebration, and then they stoned poor Yewberry to death, figuring she'd angered the Frog King and he'd be back the next day to kill them all. Only he didn't come back. And five years later, he still hadn't come back. And eventually they figured he was never coming back."

"So every fifth spring, they reenact Yewberry's triumph over the Frog King in homage to her," Erik concludes. "Except for the stoning part."

Tulani simply makes soulful puppy eyes at Alptraum's comment and gives him a punch on the shoulder (not very hard though).

"Makes a nice folk story, I guess, but I doubt it's actually true," Alptraum replies, then simply sits on top of the bar. "Don't tell me … they chase frogs around with brooms?"

Alptraum laughs at Tulani, "Come on, you know I'm right!" He grins.

Tulani breaks down into laughter, grinning herself.

"That's part of it!" Erik says to the bat. "See those little tokens the children get for frogs? They can trade them in for candy. But first the chosen Frog Princess chases someone dressed as the Frog King around the town, and then they let the frogs loose for the children to chase off with brooms."

The Sphynx is laughing almost uncontrollably now, hit with a giggle fit, and looks like she just might fall out of her chair.

"Before anyone even suggests it, I'm not gonna be the Frog King," Alptraum says quickly. He then starts laughing.

Erik looks a bit surprised at all of the laughing. "I suppose it may seem a bit silly, but small towns like this have all sorts of festivals to relieve the tedium I imagine. And tonight we'll pick the Frog Princess from the last three contestants who have passed all of the other tests. And I don't think the costume would quite fit you, Mr. Reisender."

Still grinning, Tulani pulls herself up in her chair before declaring, "I love it! Can I have a broom too?"

"I think the tradition is that each girl must make her own broom," Erik says, but doesn't look very sure of himself. "I know that my little sister Emily has hers ready, although my mother will no doubt throw a fit when she finds out."

"Too big, eh? That's always a plus," Alptraum manages to comment. "Eh, even if they do, I'm sure Tulani could cobble one together in an hour."

The Lapi barmaid politely clears her throat before asking, "Pardon me, but if any of you would like some… meat… tonight, you'll need to ask my father about it." She points out the pipe-smoking Lapi near the stage.

Alptraum smiles fangily at the Barmaid. "No worries, I don't," he replies and winks.

The comment from Alptraum causes Tulani to smile and nod before she abruptly stands up saying, "I think I'll do just that!" Turning to the Lapi, she says, "Oh no, I'm fine with vegetarian fare."

The wench nearly jumps backward at Alptraum's grin. "Oh, all right then," she says, and turns to Arkold to find out if he wants any meat.

Alptraum chuckles. "You don't need to be so jumpy. We're harmless!" he insists.

Tulani nods to Alptraum's statement, before heading towards the door, thinking of the materials she'll need to make a broom for herself, and grinning, she stops at the door to turn back and say, "I'll be back in a bit, and no talking about what a silly person I am!"

Alptraum says, "Have fun! Okay, I won't talk about it, I'll sign it!" And with that, Alptraum signs in silent-sign, "She's a silly person."

The Black and White Sphynx just rolls her eyes at Alptraum, and heads out the door grinning.

"Ah, you know the hand speech?" Erik asks. "I didn't think it was used at all in Sylvania."

"Aye, I do," Alptraum says in Sylvanian. "Also Khattan," he says in Khattan. "And Babelite," he says in Babelite. "Sign," he signs. "And Standard," he says finally. "I've been a bit of a world traveler."

After discussing the issues of dinner at length with the bar maid – in fact he began discussing other things at length as well – the Jupani finally finishes with, "Right. That'll do for dinner. A-yep. I'm starving. I'll tell you about the mermaid later. Right now there's a man name John callin' my name." And then he puts down his mug and turns to rush for the door.

"How refreshing!" Erik says to Alptraum. "So few people I've met in Sylvania have gone more than a few miles from where they were born." Behind him, the barmaid has gone over to talk to the older Lapi gentleman, who then gets up and leaves the tavern.

"I'll tell you how far I've gone, heh, after I've gone, eh," Arkold calls back to the table as he hurries towards the door. He dodges two children and an adult Skeek like a star Blakatball player.

Alptraum laughs. "Ah, well, I wasn't born here. I grew up here, by I was born quite a distance from here," Alptraum replies and waves his hand. "I went on a trip awhile back to learn about where I'm from, and I picked up a few things along the way."

"Souvenirs?" the poodle asks, glancing towards the table with his mother and sister. The older woman is apparently getting ready to leave, fussing over the girl and snapping a leash onto the pig.

"No. A bit more about where I'm from, who I am, and all that. The usual junk you always hear about in stories," Alptraum replies and looks over toward the woman. "Excuse me a moment," he says, then heads towards them.

The Gallisian woman takes her daughter by the hand, and then pauses in apparent shock as Alptraum approaches her.

The wolf is out the door so fast he leaves it swinging behind him. "Out of my wa- … hey nice frog!" he can he heard to yell.

Alptraum raises an eyebrow. "What?" he asks, grinning a slightly fangy grin. "So, is the pig for sale?" he then asks.

The poodle's eyes glare at Alptraum, and she tugs her daughter back behind her skirts. "How… how dare you! You creatures have no tact or shame, it is true!" she huffs.

Alptraum chuckles. "No tact to those who show us no respect, perhaps," Alptraum replies with a shrug. "If you want respect, offer it in kind. Keep in mind, I could have killed your, well, I suppose 'husband'. I was within my right to do so. I didn't. Now, why is that?"

Little piggy eyes also glare up at the Eeee, but the former Chevalier seems less inclined to attack while on a leash. "I have no idea what passes for reason in the minds of uncivilized… peoples," the Lady von Richebeau replies. "Nor do I have any wish to. How much longer do you intend to detain me and traumatize my innocent child, Mr. I Could Have Killed Your Pig?"

"I wouldn't call those who go around slaughtering people such as yours have a tendency to do as civilized," Alptraum points out, silver eyes narrowing. "Remember, you're a guest in our country. You think becoming a pig is the worst that can happen to you here?" he asks and leans in. "I've seen far worse. I do suggest you start listening to people here and working with them, not against them, if you want to survive and perhaps even get your husband back." He then leans to the side and smiles gently at the child, "Have fun at the festival! I bet you could whup the Frog King's butt!" He winks.

The girl giggles, but her mother's nostrils flare in insult. If she weren't already grasping her daughter's hand and the short-lease on her pig, the Gallisian lady would probably have tried to slap the Eeee. Instead, she glares past him to Erik, then pointedly tugs her charges and tries to go around the bat.

The old Lapi returns at about this time, and hands over a brown, furry rabbit to his daughter, who holds the squirming animal by the ears and looks about helplessly for Arkold.

Alptraum steps to the side. He waves and gives the little girl a playful grin. He then points at a nearby vat of frogs, then motions toward the back of the Lady Gallee's dress. Another grin, he then turns and walks back toward Erik, ears canting toward the girl with the rabbit.

The girl glances back toward the frog barrel, and briefly grins as well before being tugged along towards the stairs to the guestrooms.

Minutes later the door flies open and Arkold returns – and he's holding a frog. By his foot is a little Kadie girl who's looking at him expectantly. He steps inside the tavern and turns around to hand her the frog. "Don' lose it this time, eh? Would 'o lost it if it hadn't, uh, gotten trapped in the 'house," he tells her.

"Your mother needs to learn to be a little more polite, I'm afraid," Alptraum comments to Erik. "But, you've got a cute sister. If she sticks a frog down your mother's dress, well, I had nothing to do with it."

The barmaid quickly reaches Arkold, and explains to him, "You'll need to come to the second kitchen, sir. We don't prepare meat where the other patrons can smell it, you see. Will you need help cleaning and cooking this, or can you do it on your own?" She holds the live rabbit up to Arkold. It wiggles its nose at the Jupani.

Erik sighs, and takes off his glasses to massage his forehead. "Oh dear," he laments. "I'll surely get an earful tonight, if mum's still awake when I go upstairs. She's been brought up by Gallee society, you must understand. Forty years of indoctrination just isn't undone overnight."

Arkold looks between the rabbit and the Lapi. Then he does so again, and again. "Uh," he begins with an air of one trying to voice something politely but being unable to find the words. "No' to be picky miss, but, uh, I mean … You know." He points at her and then the rabbit.

"It's an animal," the barmaid says. "We have Rughrats too, but we prefer not to use them for meat. Rabbits are cheaper and breed faster."

"They breed faster, eh?" The wolf raises an eyebrow and then grins. "Can't argue with that. C'mon, miss, I'm thinkin' I'll need some help. Never had a rabbit before, heh."

"True, but," Alptraum says with a gesture towards the bar. "She's lucky most of us aren't that vindictive of folks. She needs to at least keep it toned down or she could get herself into trouble if she really angers the wrong person." Alptraum shrugs slightly. "At least you're not like that."

The barmaid leads Arkold off behind the bar and through the kitchen, to the special soundproofed room set aside for carnivores. "Neither have I, sir," she tells him.

"I was sent to be educated on Rephidim at a young age," Erik explains.

"Been there, didn't particularly care for the place," Alptraum comments. "Places that try to kill an Eeee just because of what they look like bother me."

"Kill you?" Erik asks, genuinely surprised. "On Rephidim? But there are hundreds of Eeees living there… "

"Yes, kill me. Look at me. I bear a resemblance to a particular group that they've declared war on," Alptraum comments with a shrug. "My mother was associated with them, which is why I look like them."

"Really?" Erik asks, replacing his glasses and looking closer at Alptraum. "I can't say I notice anything about you that triggers any criminal associations."

"It's the coloration associated with a rather unpleasant religious cult. It's a rare color pattern to be found naturally. I've met a few. Some aren't completely bad people once you get to know them. Some, of course, are," Alptraum replies and looks around the bar. "I just had a rather bad experience there and had to leave under extreme duress."

"Oh, would this be about that Babel scare a year ago?" Erik asks, looking thoughtful (which basically involved staring unfocused over Alptraum's left shoulder). "I vaguely remember something about that, I think. But those sort of alerts never last for long."

"Good afternoon, Jake. Is your mother around? No? Tell her that her remedy is ready. I know your sister hasn't been feeling well," says a deep feminine voice from somewhere beyond the door. Another voice, this one sounding like that of a young Skeek child replies, answering, "No, she's at home but I'll go tell her! Have fun judging the contest Morgan! Byeee!" Then the door opens and a witch walks in. She must be a witch. Black hat, dress, and even a broom. It's as if she walked in out of a fairy tale. "Good evening Chalk," she calls across the room. "I trust I'm not too late?"

The old Lapi waves to the witch from his seat, then removes his pipe and says, "Not too late, Morgan. We haven't started throwing anything at the band yet."

"Once is enough when you suddenly become a kill on sight target," Alptraum comments and glances over his shoulder. His eyebrow goes up and he chuckles softly. "Why don't you just ask her if she can uncurse your father? Looks like not much searching need be done," he comments to Erik.

The plump Skeek mayor climbs onto the stage, interrupting the tune the band was currently mutilating to announce, "A round of applause for our own Emmett and the Oggtones!" A few claps and clacking of teeth rise up from the tavern patrons.

"Oh, Morgan the witch?" Erik asks, assaying a bit of soft hand clapping himself. "Mother would never allow it. She refuses to even be in the same room with a witch, and Dad would probably die of embarrassment to be treated by one," he whispers to Alptraum. "I'm not too sure about witches myself, frankly, but it's not like little villages can afford Guild Mages."

"I distinctly recall during the last Frog Festival having to spend all night brewing the remedy to a certain impatient man's opinion", she glances at the audience in a 'you know who I mean' look, smiling faintly, "-of the band at that. I missed my chance to watch the contest. And they were such large frogs that season, too," the witch at the door says, head tilting, and the tip of her large witch's hat flopping to one side. "I hope to make up for that today." And then she begins walking towards the stage purposefully.

While the otters pack up their instruments, a long (if short) table is pushed up before the stage and several stools set behind it. Another plump Skeek – possibly the mayor's wife – sets out pieces of paper and pencils on the tabletop, along with a jug of water and some leather cups.

"Your mother doesn't have to know," Alptraum comments dryly, "Surely you've done things and not told her about them before." He watches the strange figure head toward the stage, ears flicking and listening intently.

Johan quickly rounds the table to hold out the stool for the witch. "Here you go Morgan! Thank you for coming."

"I'd rather not go behind her back if I can avoid it, not where Dad is concerned," Erik remarks, then says, "I'm one of the judges, if you'll excuse me? Although if you'd like, I could get you a seat at the judging table to watch."

"Sure, what the heck," Alptraum replies.

Morgan smiles again as she nears the woman setting the table. "How are you feeling Apella?" the witch inquires pleasantly before taking a seat. She leaves her hat on in something of an unusual slight against tradition. "Thank you Johan," she thanks the man who pulled her chair. Then she faces forward, smiles at the crowd, and begins sorting papers.

The other judges begin to take their places at the table. Apella, the Skeek who set out the papers, takes a seat next to Morgan. Next to her sits Jonas Chalk, the elder Lapi, and hopping onto the stool beside him is the Akwavi band-leader, Emmett Oggton. Erik heads for the next open spot.

There's a seat left for Alptraum next to the poodle, either in anticipation of an extra person needing it or because someone isn't very good at counting.

Alptraum pulls his wings back tightly and follows along. He heads to the chair and turns it around so the backrest is now in the front and sits down in it. "Better for the wings," he mutters to Erik.

The witch begins passing out papers and pencils, standing up so that she can deliver them personally. "Nice evening, Chalk. A fine performance as usual Emmett." She moves down the side farthest from Alptraum, then reverses and heads towards his side. "Trouble with your father Erik? You really ought to at least accept something to calm him. I won't have him harming anyone," she tells the poodle. Then to Alptraum, "A visitor? Well! Welcome to the Frog Festival traveler. I am Morgan, and I am the witch of this village."

Alptraum offers a slight head nod. "Alptraum bar Reisender," he replies. "Just passing through with a couple of friends."

"And now, the event you've all been waiting for," Johan announces from the stage, sounding quite loud for a Skeek (but then, that's probably what got him elected). "The final part of the Frog Princess competition; broom handling!" The crowd cheers a bit more enthusiastically than it did for the band.

"We get a few visitors this time of year. Eeee of your sort aren't quite so uncommon but the Sphinx and the Jupani are a rare sight. I do believe I saw one of the girls asking her mother if your lupine friend was a werewolf," the witch tells Alptraum, her voice pleasant if neutral and a bit distant. She glances at Erik meaningfully before she steps away and returns to her seat.

Alptraum's eyebrow goes up. "Just what does she mean about Eeee of my sort?" he mutters.

Erik takes up the black-chalk pencil and adjusts his glasses again. On the paper before him is a list of three names, with three columns next to each, labeled 'Appearance', 'Presentation' and 'Enthusiasm'. "Ah," the poodle says to Alptraum, "I think that's just a bit of witchiness."

"Amusingly, Arkold almost ended up a were-poodle, but anyway," Alptraum comments and goes quiet. He watches the witch through narrowed eyes.

After poking his head through the curtained doorway that leads backstage, Johan returns to the front and announces, "Our first contestant tonight will be Miss Pippa Fignut, age 13!" He claps his hands to lead the audience and then steps off to one side.

Morgan pushes the brim of her hat up before she picks up her purple colored chalk. She claps with genuine approval when one of the contestants is announced.

A nervous looking Kadie girl steps out from behind the curtain, and bows to the audience. She's wearing a green peasant dress, and has her chestnut hair tied back with a matching green bow. In one hand she holds a standard looking broom, while in the other she holds a large clay dish.

"Bet she's going to try and spin the dish on top of the broom," Alptraum mutters in Babelite to himself.

Pippa takes a deep breath, and then balances her dish on the end of the broom handle and starts spinning it. At the judges' table, Emmett can't help but provide an improvised drum-roll with his hands.

Alptraum smirks, obviously pleased with himself.

With a faint smile and a raised brow Morgan watches the girl's performance. She does not move her chalk now but she does nod her head to the girl encouragingly.

Once the plate is up to speed, the girl carefully lifts up the broom, and places it on top of her forehead, where the bristles span a wide swath. Leaning back, she shuffles back and forth while looking upwards to keep the whole thing from tumbling down, with her big fluffy tail twitching to fine tune her balance.

"Oooo, that could be bad if she slipped," Alptraum thinks. He leans against the front of the chair heavily and just watches, trying not to feel too out of place.

Finally, Pippa raises up her left leg so that she's balancing on just one foot. Then she starts to hop up and down on it!

"Oh, ey, that's a twist," Emmett comments.

"And rather silly," Alptraum comments.

Morgan's raised brow raises higher when the little girl places the broom on her head. She smirks when she goes to one foot, then the witch just plain claps quietly when she begins hopping. "Miss Fignut will be very proud," she murmurs to the woman beside her.

The girl manages to keep this up for a good twenty seconds, before she's forced to grab the broom as the plate loses its momentum. She bobs the broom to launch the plate upwards, and catches it with one hand before bowing again.

The mayor steps forward to lead the applause again, saying, "Let's hear it for Pippa Fignut!"

Alptraum raises his hands and applauds lightly. "Huh, not bad," he comments.

Morgan rises from her seat, brushes her skirts down, then lifts her hands to applaud the Pippa. "You've improved, Pippa," the witch tells the contestant. "I'll have to tell your mother what a fine job you did."

"Quite an impressive show of balance, don't you think?" Erik asks Alptraum, before marking down a series of 7s on his judging ballot.

The squirrel girl blushes at the compliment, and bows once more just to Morgan before scurrying backstage.

"Quite. Reminds me of a similar act I've seen. It was years ago, but I remember they trained for a long time to manage to pull it off," Alptraum replies back.

"Our next finalist is Miss Marva Bluebottle, age 15," Johan announces. "Some of you may remember her mother Abigail as the Frog Princess at the festival ten years ago!" he adds, before standing aside.

The witch retakes her seat and marks down a series of symbols in each of Pippa's columns. Whatever they mean they don't make an ounce of sense to Alptraum. Or, apparently, anyone else sitting near her. The other judges merely glance at her writing with faintly puzzled expressions as if not exactly surprised.

Wearing a skirt over shorts (both green) with a lighter green blouse, Marva takes the stage. Her fur is dark gray with white stripes, and she sets down a small bucket before bowing to the audience.

Morgan's expression returns to her previous neutral-yet-interested look. She reviews her score sheet briefly before looking up again and watching the girl expectantly.

After straightening up, the Kadie girl holds her broom horizontally in both hands and then dips a bare foot into the bucket. Using her toes, she plucks out a little stuffed felt frog which she then flicks backward towards her tail. A flick of the tail sends the frog plush in an arc over her shoulder, where Marva knocks it back up with one end of her broom. Soon the frog is being bounced back and forth between the handle end and the brush end.

Alptraum huffs a small laugh and watches quietly, wings shifting some now and then.

Once her rhythm is set, Marva dips her foot into the bucket again, and adds a second frog into the fray as she did the first. The two plush bags are then juggled back and forth with the broom, just managing to avoid colliding in mid-air.

Glancing at Appela the witch murmurs, "I do believe our children are becoming more talented by the year." The witch smiles a pleased smile and turns back to watch the girl, head tilted, hat tip flopping the other way.

The otter judge whistles in appreciation, while most of the audience goes dead silent to avoid distracting the girl. With her tongue sticking out of the side of her muzzle in concentration, Marva adds a third frog, which requires her to bounce them from one end of the broom back onto her tail and then back onto the opposite end of the broom in order to keep them all airborne and circling her.

"Yow," Alptraum comments. "The expression is priceless, I must admit."

The older Skeek woman nods to Morgan, and quietly says, "I can't imagine one of my girls managing something like this."

Managing all three frog-balls isn't easy, and one of them eventually misses her tail to dive through the fluffy fur instead. Marva tries to recover, knocking the two remaining frogs higher and then grabbing up the bucket to catch them.

"This is truly going to be a difficult selection," the witch whispers to the older Skeek woman. "I remember hearing about some of the past contests from mother. One of your girls entered several years back didn't she Appela?"

Appela's reply is cut short, as one frog lands in the bucket and other one lands in Morgan's (luckily unfilled) water mug.

With an embarrassed squeak, Marva picks up her broom and dashes backstage, leaving the mayor to recover the frog that missed her tail. "Oh… ah, let's hear it for Marva Bluebottle's amazing performance!" he gets out, still clutching the stuffed frog to his chest while looking for the third one.

"Whoo. Even with dropping the frog, impressive. Quite a bit to keep track of while doing that. I don't think I'd rate it any lower, really," Alptraum comments, resting his chin on the back of the chair now in a slouch.

Morgan watches the frog sail across the stage. When it lands she smiles faintly and remarks, "We have always had a way with attracting frogs." Then she picks up the glass – frog and all – and holds it out for the mayor to collect.

"Quite!" Erik agrees, marking down 9s and an 8 for Enthusiasm. "A bit shy at the end, but that can hardly be counted against her."

The mayor smiles and retrieves the frog from Morgan. "My, that was exciting!" he says. "Our last finalist is Amelia Blacktail, age 18! This will be Miss Blacktail's second appearance as a finalist for Frog Princess!"

Again Morgan jots down a number of symbols instead of Sylvanian numbers. These symbols mostly look different from the previous set. All are completely foreign to Alptraum.

An athletic looking Kadie strides fearlessly onto the stage, as the mayor scuttles behind the curtain to drop off the frogs. Amelia wears a green felt vest and shorts, with a tiny ruffle of a skirt, and has her raven hair tied back in a long ponytail. The outfit may well be the same one she wore five years past, as it looks at least a size too small, and her broom appears to be a Kadie-sized quarter-staff with some rushes tied to one end.

Alptraum raises an eyebrow. He doesn't know if he should just watch or whistle. He smirks at the thought.

"My goodness," Erik whispers, adjusting his glasses. "Is that a cheerleading costume?"

"It's, ah, something," Alptraum mutters with a grin. "I see one of her tactics. And some more things I probably shouldn't!"

"My mother has repeatedly complained about this sort of outfit," Morgan murmurs to the woman beside her. "I'm afraid I can't share my mother's opinion of the subject, but I may well be biased."

After thumping the bare end of her 'broom' once on the stage, Amelia tosses it into the air and then launches herself into a backflip – catching the falling broom before she even touches back down on the stage. Things get a bit more frenzied after that, with the broom being spun about like a mere baton and tossed, caught and swung about at every opportunity.

"I think she's going for the intimidation approach, yeesh," Alptraum mutters to Erik. "Imagine her hitting you with that."

Morgan purses her lips as she watches. "Amelia may well have a talent with the quarter-staff. Yes I'll have to remember this," she murmurs to no one in particular.

"Ha!" the Kadie barks out, rather than the usual squeaks, as she goes through a routine that seems equal parts acrobatics and martial arts. Once more the spinning broom is tossed into the air, and caught with upraised arms while Amelia does an impressive split. This not only finishes the performance, but proves the final straw for the stressed stitches of her outfit. There's a distinct tearing sound when she hits the stage and all but one of the buttons on her vest fly out at the audience.

There are advantages to having a big fluffy tail, and Amelia demonstrates one of them by quickly putting it between herself and the audience. "Morgan!" she whispers over the applause. "I need your needle and thread!"

Alptraum winces and ducks. "Gods, dainty she is not," he says as he drops his head behind the back of the chair briefly. Alptraum's ears catch her comments, and he can't help but break our laughing!

"Uh, dainty… " Erik mutters, then fumbles for his handkerchief to wipe clear his fogged spectacles. "If I recall, the girl was raised as the only female among many older brothers and a widower father. Poor dear."

Alptraum manages to collect himself. "Boy, does it show. Whew!" he replies between chuckles. "Cute, though."

"Tsk," says the witch as she shakes her head. Her lips twitch as if she were fighting a wider smile. Then her smile goes blank. "Thread?" she repeats. "Oh, yes. Excuse me Appela." Then the witch rises from her chair and begins walking across the stage towards the Kadie contestant, her hand reaching to the supplies at her waist. She seems to be trying to look anywhere but at the young woman. "A-Amelia, now, you warned … I warned you might have this … happen."

"Let's hear it for Amelia," the Mayor announces, quickly trying to draw attention away from the girl. "And please, there's no reason to catcall, Emmett!" Gesturing to the two faces peaking out from backstage, he adds, "And for ALL of our finalists tonight!"

Pippa and Marva quickly step out, effectively surrounding Morgan and Amelia and blocking them from sight.

Alptraum manages to collect himself and applaud. "Bravo, all of you," Alptraum says. "Skill, style, and danger. All in all, quite a show," he says with a fangy grin.

"Very… enthusiastic… performance," Erik comments, and marks a row of 10s on his ballot. "Quite in the spirit of the legendary Yewberry, I imagine."

Appela Streusel is up on the stage quickly as well, trying to usher everyone backstage before anything else can happen.

Alptraum lightly elbows Erik. "Going for the act with a bit o' skin, eh?" he says with a grin and a wink.

"Perhaps we ought to step off stage Amelia. I can't very well help you with your tail-" The whispering between Morgan and Amelia is broken off by the cheering. Even Alptraum has some trouble hearing just what they're saying. "-your mother will not approve-" "No I cannot say I approve eith-" "I am not blus-"

"Err," the poodle murmurs, looking a bit embarrassed. "Well… it was the young woman's final chance at being Princess you know, since she'd be too old by the next time the Festival came around… and clearly she's been training for some time… " he rambles.

Alptraum holds up his hand. "S'allright. You don't have to explain anything to me. I am a guy, after all. I can see the allure," he says with a bit of a teasing grin. "It was quite a show, in many ways."

"Did I miss somethin'?" calls a familiar voice from the kitchen. "I missed somethin' didn't I? Hey what's happenin' out there?" Arkold pops his head out of the kitchen and looks around, blood on his muzzle. He begins clapping reflexively.

Alptraum tosses a nearby towel at Arkold. "You missed an act only you could appreciate," he replies with a grin. "Now, go back and have fun with your rabbit!"

The towel lands on the wolf's head and he pulls it off to clean his muzzle. "Right, right. My rabbit. Hey," he calls back in to the kitchen, "-c'mon rabbit." Then he slips out of sight.

"Thanks Morgan," Amelia says sweetly to the witch. "You're so good with clothes, and I'm such a klutz that I'd end up shredding my costume just taking it off!"

"C-can't have that Amelia," the witch replies in whisper. "But you really shouldn't have worn this. I can't say I approve at all. And don't give me that look. I know you." There's silence from the two of them for a moment before Morgan rises. "You've grown. This was so much easier when you were younger." The witch shakes his head down at the young woman and leans forward to help her up.