The Egg Race (Festival of Balance and Knowledge)

[Stilia Medusa]

Well, it seemed the people of Agartha were as whimsical as humans; they were hosting a large competition for supernaturals, however, all the activities were things you'd find at a company picnic. Egg racing, ankles tied together, a trivia contest, a maze... A gathering for camaraderie and fun. Apparently it was a tradition, and many locals were quite excited.

This festival was not meant to honor any God, although the celebrations of Varos and Erlang had recently passed, and so a lot of the activities were centered around balance and knowledge, as a sort of tribute to them. Stilia had been passing through Agartha for the Festival of Erlang on the 28th when she heard of this celebration, so she decided to stick around. It didn't hurt to have some fun every now and again. Plus it wasn't like she had better plans.

Stilia wandered the booths, curious as to what wares were being sold, but also wondering if she'd see anyone she knew. She couldn't exactly imagine this festival attracting the sorts of people she'd met on her journeys, but perhaps some were passing through Agartha as she was.

(Decided to have something relaxed. Have fun, maybe have competition among yourselves in no power ban three-legged races or something. Although the festival of Varos and Erlang have passed, you will gain a blessing through this thread. Enjoy~)

[Richard G. Hale]

It was nice, even for those who chose purposely to lead rather solitary lives, to get out and spend time amongst similar people. Richard wasn't particularly fond of crowds in general, but he had to admit that the atmosphere was starting to get to him. All of the excitement and celebration preparations were creating an almost palpable buzz floating through the air, even at night, though in a subterranean city there wasn't much difference between night and day.

He also wasn't being accosted, like he might be on the surface world. A few double takes and odd looks, perhaps a sideways glance or hushed whisper were to be expected, but being a walking skeleton in a world of similarly odd people was nothing to really fret about. Richard might only have been passing through to restock and take some time off his travels, but overall he didn't particularly mind the place. Were he to choose between the surface world and the underground, it would be a hard decision to make.

Of course, that didn't mean his wanderlust had to stop if he stayed underground either. There were always going to be new passages, new caves and frontier towns, outposts and border stations. Hell, if expansion ever stopped it wouldn't be difficult to just dig deeper and find a new path to walk. The kiddos probably wouldn't appreciate the wandering of course, but they had their home out in the Americas. If one decided one day that they wanted to tag along and see the world Richard would be happy to oblige, but he doubted that either would really be into the whole living-life-as-a-hermit thing.

Perhaps he could convince the powers that be to elect him as a ranger for the underworld, and make his journey underground. He would satisfy his needs to move and remain primarily solitary, but pit stops would be much more frequent. He would probably do better than a few other choice species anyways, what with the natural low light vision and the built-in armored shell.

Regardless, he could investigate all of that later. Perhaps when the streets weren't full of revelers, or when there weren't new hats to buy. Like a nice leather stetson that looked sturdy enough for a few decades of hard use. Richard walked out of that little hole in the wall (literally) musing about how he now completed the whole cowboy look. Revolvers on his hips, the mantled duster, leather boots, and now he had the hat to go with it. All that was left for him to acquire was a gun belt, possibly a lever-gun, and a horse.

Richard adjusted his hat to fit properly and began to wander back towards his current residence, taking a quick detour to take a look at the recently constructed festivity activities.

[Jacksoπ Flεtchεr]

    Jack wandered among the festival eating egg themed candies, no specific purpose in mind. He'd been trying to attend more festivals lately, considering how hard he'd been working at stuff. They were a nice way to relax, sort of, while learning more about the cultures and traditions of various supernatural peoples. A welcome break from a weekend of staring at a computer screen with bloodshot eyes as dumped more of his life into his latest favorite video game.

    Finished with the sugary treats he'd acquired, the young man proceeded to brush a few stray crumbs off of the simple hoodie he'd decided to wear instead of his usual garish red jacket, holding himself to the promise he'd made to himself about attempting to keep from overindulging. Jack needed to pace himself if he was going to make it through the festivities without a stomach ache.

    The young man paused a moment to lift up his right foot so he could check the sole of his weary boot, almost confident he'd stepped in something unpleasant. Finding it was just a small piece of gravel caught in the tread, Jack ran one hand through the vague curls of his cropped brown hair with a relieved sigh before continuing on his way. These were his favorite boots and he wouldn't have liked to find out they were covered in something messy.

    Eventually, Jack made his way over toward something he'd heard referred to as a three legged race. Honestly, he wasn't quite sure what to expect. In a community of magical creatures it seemed entirely plausible to him that the race could involve growing an actual third leg to race on. However normal or weird it might end up being, it did sound like it might be fun so he'd probably try to participate if he managed to make it there without being trampled to death by one of the gangs of children running amok through the crowds.

[Stilia Medusa]

Stilia glanced at the stalls, but decided she was not interested. At least not yet, and perhaps she would check them out when she was finished, so that she wouldn't have to carry everything around. The stalls often carried items that had been magically improved by supernatural metalworkers. Otherwise, the stalls carried fairly mundane things; flashy clothing, sparkling jewlery, and snacks of all types.

Stilia decided to participate in one of the activities, and headed over to the main 'field'. This area had no stalls, to make room for the races and such things, however it still had a farily large crowd of people. Currently there was a three-legged race going on, just a little something for fun. Stilia smiled lightly to herself and went to sign up, where they paired her with a random daemon.

As everyone set up for the race, Stilia's ankle (for she was in a human form) was tied to that of the daemon. The first round was going to be a 'no-powers' race, followed by a powers race. Although usually quite unfair, the powers race is what really attracted the crowds, and so both were done, so that there could be an entertaining race and a fair race.

[Richard G. Hale]

Well, everything seemed to be going smoothly so far. Richard knew just how hard the locals had been working to make sure it did, so it was nice that they could take a step back and just enjoy now. He turned about and started to duck his way through the people in the area, not particularly motivated to hold up his end of the bargain for not being conscripted into forced stall-painting labor.

"Hey, yo Richy!" Sounded a gruff but upbeat voice, which Richard turned to with a sigh. Too late to dodge that one, now, the guy was already here.

"I thought I'd never find you in all these people, you weren't trying to get out of the race were you? You know I could find you in a stack of a hundred other skelly-tons."

The speaker was a fairly large, very hairy sort of fellow who went by the name of Dale. It wasn't entirely clear exactly what he was, whenever anyone asked him he just answered "I'm bigfoot!" and laughed.

It was true that he could probably find Richard in a big group of other reapers though, the guy had an uncanny knack for finding people.

Sigh. "Alright, you got me Dale. I was going to go hide inside my hole, withering away from the lack of a social life and humanoid interaction, while such a pleasant thing is happening right outside my door. Oh, thank you Dale, mighty savior of my sanity, for preventing me from filling my mind with seditious literature such as The Prince, Beyond Good and Evil, and Thus Spoke Zarathustra. You truly are worthy of unending admiration and devotion, and bigfoot everywhere are champing at the bit to bear your children, and join the mighty Dale's harem. Now let's hurry up and get this over with, I really do want to get some reading and paperwork done today." Spoke Richard, the sarcasm dripping from his words almost palpable.

The satire flew right over Dale's head, however, who just laughed. The hairy giant picked up the Reaper, now relatively accustomed to being man handled by the big guy, and walked them both over to the starting line. Richard was sure that the two of them tied together at the ankle was a ridiculous sight, considering their size and general anatomy. Funnier still was that they were polar opposites in personality, although that probably wasn't quite as visible to anyone watching from the outside.

[Jacksoπ Flεtchεr]

    Jack made it over to the field area or whatever and had a quick look around. The race would be starting soon so it was now or never if the young man was intending to participate. After giving it a brief moment of thought, Ten decided not to. He wasn't much for team sports and this one seemed to involve being literally hobbled, albeit temporarily. Besides, his recent diet of candy had done a number on his poor digestive track. Jack's tummy was aching something fierce and a sense of lethargy had fallen over him. No, he'd stay a spectator for the following events.

    A few people were placing bets and friendly wagers. Jack considered putting down some money but gambling wasn't really his thing. He preferred to get by on his own wits and abilities rather than depend on the good graces of fickle chance. He'd watch the races until he grew bored and wandered off or found something better to do. There truly were all sorts of different races participating and Jack didn't know who might win. Some were clearly just in it for the fun of it while others seemed to be taking the competition rather seriously.

    Popping another handful of candy to stave off the inevitable sugar crash just a little while longer, the young man settled in. The powers race, whatever that entailed, might be the most exciting thing to happen all day.