Sir Lefallon Friday (3 Oct 2001) Agatha and Sabrina present "Sir Lefallon" with a new quest.

Foxworthy's Sweets
The checkerboard tiles of the shop contrast neatly with the chrome of the ice cream soda bar, and the cheerful old-style glass jars with hoppers from which candies of various types can be dispensed into paper bags, then weighed by the tall English fellow who owns the shop. A row of stools stand before the soda bar. Several booths line the far wall, each large enough for four teenagers or six kids to squeeze in on both sides of a table. The posters on the walls are Art Nouveau reproductions. The smell of chocolate vies with the fizz of soda, and there are usually always at least a few kids or teenagers here during the daytime until the proprietor closes at four in the afternoon.

A tall redheaded girl enters the shop, dressed plainly in a green skirt and grey blouse. After the door stops its jangling, she peers down the aisle in search of her quarry: a boy named Simon.

A small boy in flannel shirt and worn jeans sits in the far booth, slurping an ice cream malt through a straw as he writes on a notepad. He pauses occasionally to scratch behind an ear and frown at the words.

Grinning, Agatha walks down the row to the far booth. "Hey there, Simon. Mind if I join you?"

Simon jumps. "What, who?" He blinks up at the girl in the skirt. "Do I know..." Then peers closer at the friendly looking face.

"It's me, silly -- Agatha," the girl says, crossing her arms in front of her chest and starting to look miffed. "I just let my hair down today."

"Agatha?" The younger boy blinks a few times. "You look like-- well, you look like a lady!" He blushes as he realizes the words on the notepad are visible, and reaches to turn to a fresh page. They look like lyrics of some sort.

Agatha takes a seat along the bench opposite Simon. "Not everyone is surprised by that, you know," she says, but smiles to show she isn't upset. "Whatcha up to? Been doing anything interesting?"

Simon grins wryly. "Keeping out of my uncle's way. The less he thinks of me, the better."

Agatha's eyebrows raise a bit at that. "Really? I guess you'd be looking for stuff to keep you out of the house then?"

"Yeah, as long as it doesn't cost me much!" Simon says. He rubs his fingers together with a glance to his malt as if to point out the proprietor likes people to patronize his shop if they're taking up valuable booth space.

Grinning, Agatha says, "Did you know that many knightly orders had vows of poverty? It supposedly made them more pure of heart."

Simon frowns. "What about jesters? I've never heard they had vows, but I've never heard of a rich jester, either."

"Well, you don't always have to be a jester, you know," Agatha suggests. "Wouldn't you like to be the knight sometimes?"

The younger boy shakes his head. "I'm a coward at heart, you know. Show me a monster and I'll show you the soles of my feet!" He grins and then wags his pencil at Agatha, as if tut-tutting her. "Why, do you want to be the jester now?"

Agatha leans back in her seat, which has the effect of pushing her down a bit more towards Simon's eye-level. "Just asking. Being brave and courageous, doing something heroic, even if it's just pretend. Well, wouldn't that help a bit?"

"You're trying to talk me into something, aren't you?" Simon raises an eyebrow. "What's up?"

"Hmmm," Agatha says. "Well, actually ... I'm looking for someone that can go on a little quest of sorts."

"Well... Every quest needs its minstrel to chronicle the story of the heroes," Simon suggests helpfully. He leans forward, curious what Agatha is getting into now.

"This is more the sort of quest that the hero takes on alone," Agatha says, then switches to lean forward as well, propping her elbows on the tabletop and lowering her voice. "A quest for something special, with special challenges. Not exploring or combat."

Simon looks more apprehensive. "It sounds like you want the Explorer Thomas, then."

Agatha shakes her head, and explains, "No, this isn't something for Thomas. It requires ... well ... a purer heart, I suppose."

"A purer heart? Me?" The younger boy looks shocked at the idea. "I'm a fool, not a hero! It's jokes I crack, not lances against scaly dragon hides."

Agatha considers this, drumming her fingers on the tabletop as she leans back. "Are you so sure, and is that what you really want to be? This could be a real adventure for you."

The younger boy looks askance at Agatha, not sure what she's getting at.

"I suppose I should just tell you the quest then," Agatha says, "since I don't seem good at getting your interest by hinting around it. I'm looking for someone that is willing to seek out the Holy Grail, Simon."

"The Holy Grail?" Simon looks quite surprised, yet pleased at the invitation. "You want me to play Galahad to Tom's Lancelot? I really don't know if I could carry off a part like that."

Agatha's eyes twinkle at the thought of Tom as Lancelot, but she doesn't giggle outright. "Are you interested in finding out if you could, though?" she asks.

The younger boy grins. "It'd be fun to try. But, I don't know that I'd be very good at it." He pauses, considering the girl in a blouse and skirt opposite him, then suggests, "Maybe I should take sword fighting lessons from Lady Redmane."

Agatha grins, and nods. "If you like, sure. You can even borrow my sword. But the quest for the Grail is more of a spiritual one, where your character and commitment are tested."

"Well, if I fail, I can still be a jester, right?" Simon asks with a laugh. He takes another sip of his malt.

"All but one of the knights of the Round Table failed, remember," Agatha points out, quite seriously. "Even heroes can fail, but they'll still be heroes. And if you succeed ... well, it means you've bested the worst you have inside you, which is pretty slick I think."

The younger boy looks thoughtful. "I've never been a hero before. So, how do we start?"

Agatha blinks at this question. "Umm ... I don't know, actually. I guess you'll receive a call, sort of."

"A call? Then my uncle will never let me go," the younger boy says, disappointed that the quest seems to be stymied before it can even begin.

"Not a phone call," Agatha says. "It'll be something ... else," she offers, noticing a familiar girl standing just outside the window, all dressed up in white.

The girl seems to be peering anxiously in the front window, making marks on the glass with her fingers, and smiles largely when Agatha looks her way.

Simon follows Agatha's gaze, but doesn't seem to recognize the girl. "Okay," he says.

The girl outside the window makes an odd motion with her hand. It looks like a thumbs-up, a thumbs-down, a shrug and a raised-eyebrows questioning look.

While Simon is turned away, Agatha makes a tentative waggling thumbs-up gesture.

The younger boy sucks on his malt some more, and starts to doodle on the notepad. "So would I be Sir Simon? Sir Galahad? Sir Something? Or maybe I'd start as a squire to you and work my way up?" It looks like he's trying to design a coat of arms.

The little girl outside the window makes a glass-muffled but happy squeal, and she stoops down to pick something up, then heads over to the front door, and heads in, amidst a ringing of bells.

"Good day to you, Miss Winters!" greets Mr. Foxworthy as she enters. "Will it be the usual?"

"Oh, I'm not Miss Winters today," the girl says, in all seriousness. "I'm an angelic messenger. But thank you!"

This prompts an eyebrow-raise and a wry smirk from Mr. Foxworthy, but no further comment, as the "angelic messenger" heads over toward Agatha's and Simon's table. She holds a goblet in her hands.

"Well, I think we're about to find out," Agatha says without turning to look at the entrance.

Simon blinks up at the newcomer and the goblet. His eyes slide over toward Agatha and his eyebrows rise in apparent question.

The white-gowned girl walks over, and with considerable pomp, says, "Good afternoon, good knight! Sir ...." Then, she pauses, blinking, and leans over toward Agatha. "Sir what?" she whispers loudly.

As the girl leans over toward Agatha, Simon can't help but notice a couple of little puffy, pillow-like "wings" -- vestigial in their diminutive size -- pinned onto the back of her dress. Not the usual Sunday best fare, no.

The odd encounter draws a few looks from kids seated at the counter. One of them is Boris. It seems that he is straining greatly to place Agatha's identity. Perhaps it occurs to him at last, as his face flushes red, and he abruptly turns away, returning his attention to his float.

Drawing himself up as if summoning up the mental image of a knight, Simon says, "I hight Sir Lefallon, milady, and..." He catches sight of the wings, then slips out from the booth to kneel before her, drawing odd looks from others in the shop. "I am entirely at your service, angel. What would Heaven have of me?" It's a pity he lacks the size that his knightly image undoubtedly would have to make the gesture more inspiring.

Agatha blinks, impressed with Simon's introduction.

The angel smiles pleasantly down at the knight. "Sir Lefallon, your chivalry is well known throughout the land. I come to you in a vision, to let you know that the Holy Grail is within your lands. It is the ultimate test for any good knight of the realm." She holds up the goblet, orbiting it around in a rough circle, as if pretending that it's hovering in place for dramatic effect. "Only those pure of heart, true of tongue, brave in soul, and full of virtue may find the Grail! Heaven speed you on your way, good Sir Lefallon." And then, she tucks the goblet under one arm, and hastily waves. "Good bye!" She giggles and quickly makes for the door.

"I have been stricken with a vision," Simon says to Agatha as he stands by the table. "It seems to me that I have been chosen for a most perilous quest, one for the blessed Holy Grail! Yet I fear that I am not prepared for the challenges of this quest, and so I ask for your aid, Lady Redmane..." He pauses, watching Agatha's face.

Agatha blinks again, still struck by the performances. "Of course, Sir Lefallon, my skills are at your call."

"It is precisely of your skills I have need," the younger boy says, sounding older and more dignified than the fool he usually portrays. "For I fear that while purity of heart will be sought for, feats of arms will also be required by the foes temporal who seek to prevent the Holy Grail from being known. I would seek what humble morsel of learning I might glean from your noble teaching, my Lady."

"Of course, Sir," Redmane agrees. "I will happily tutor you in defense and combat, as well as the codes of chivalry. You need only meet me at the Castle Harcourt ... uh ... anon."

"I shall repair there immediately," Simon declares. "Neither food nor drink shall pass my lips until I have striven my utmost to remedy any faults in my education." His gaze falls upon Boris as he picks up the ice cream malt, presumably to dispose of it rather than consuming it, and he falters a bit in his characterization.

Agatha leans forward to whisper to Simon, "If Boris gives you any trouble, just ask him if he's worn any buckets on his head lately."

This draws a laugh. "My thanks, Lady Redmane. I shall remember that." Then steeling himself, "Sir Lefallon" puts the cup into the trash, takes up his notepad, and walks out toward the door, where Jester Simon might have ... slunk.

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This site serves as a chronicle of sessions in an online roleplaying campaign moderated by Conrad "Lynx" Wong and May "Rowan" Wasserman. The contents of this site are (c) 2001, 2002 by Conrad Wong and May Wasserman except where stated otherwise. Despite the "children's fantasy" theme of this campaign, this site is not intended for young readership, due to mild language and violence.