Summer Festival, Part II
Milkweed: “Greetings Campanula Chubb, Festival Coordinator.”
Chubb: “Hey, Rube.”
Milkweed: “Mayor Whitefoot tells me that you are the one to talk to about addressing all the festival goers.”
Chubb: “Did he tell you that at a ‘picnic’?”
Milkweed: “You know about that?”
Chubb: “Every person with female plumbing in the Shire and beyond knows about him. We’ve had complaints from all over Middle Earth, but he’s the mayor. He just keeps pardoning himself.”
Milkweed: “If we had only thought when we wrote our Shire Constitution to include checks and balances that would prevent those in power from taking advantage of that for their own personal gain.”
Chubb: “Yes – 34 constitutionally mandated recipes was probably excessive.”
Milkweed: “In any event, I wanted to address the crowd about – ULMO’S HOLY BALLS, ANOTHER FIRE MONSTER! RUN! I’LL HOLD IT OFF!”
Chubb: “Oh no, its just a symbolic representation of the heatwave we are having here in the Shire at the moment. It’s harmless!”
Milkweed: It’s a GIANT FIRE MONSTER!”
Chubb: “Relax, it can’t hurt you!”
(Low Level PC runs past, on fire)
PC: “I’M ON FIRE! I’M ON FIRE! DON’T LET ME BURN! KILL ME NOW! DON’T LET ME BUUUUURN!”
Chubb: “See? Harmless. If you are still worried I can spit some water on you.”
Milkweed: “What, no I…”
Chubb: *Spits water*
Milkweed: “Gaah! Quit it! So would it be possible for me to address everyone about the growing threat of Sauron and the darkness which is spreading over Middle Earth?”
Chubb: “My goodness! That doesn’t sound very festive at all! As festival coordinator I’m going to have to ask you to do a few favors to help support the festival before you can do that!”
Milkweed: “But this is a danger to everyone in the Shire!”
Chubb: “First I want you to go fly a kite!”
Milkweed: “Hey!”
Chubb: “While you are at it, there are some crashed kites that you can pick up and bring back to be repaired.”
Milkweed: “But this is urgent! Everyone is in danger!”
Chubb: “Then, there are some people who have left various objects lying around that you need to pick up and return to them.”
Milkweed: “I don’t have time to go on scavenger hunts!”
Chubb: “There are some overheated festival goers that need someone to come by and spit water on them…”
Milkweed: “Ick!”
Chubb: “And you need to destroy some heat monsters for us.”
Milkweed: “I thought they were just symbolic. Or hallucinations. Or something.”
Chubb “I’ll need you to carry a heavy block of ice down to Bywater, then bring back : some ice cream.”
Milkweed: “For crying out loud, I’m about to start crying out loud!”
Chubb: “And then there are fishing quests, the keg races, horse races, several more scavenger hunts….”
Milkweed: “So I do all these things and THEN you let me address the crowd?”
Chubb: “Not exactly. For each of these you get one or more festival tokens. If you do enough of them I give you more festival tokens.”
Milkweed: “Yeah, I know. Mayor Whitefoot gave me several.”
Chubb (looking sadly at Milkweed): “Poor, poor dear!”
Milkweed: “What? Oh, no – it wasn’t like that. I threatened to cave his head in with my mace.”
Chubb: “Oh, good for you! In that case, when you have done at least seven of these tasks, return to me and I will give you more festival tokens for earning festival tokens!”
Milkweed: “And I use these for?”
Chubb: “You can redeem them for cool things that are only available during the summer festival!”
Milkweed: “Like magical orc-killing swords?”
Chubb: “Well, more like summer outfits, horses with baskets of flowers on them, or seasonal dyes – peach is all the rage this year!”
Milkweed: “You’re aware that we are all about to be overrun by bloodthirsty cannibalistic orcs, evil men, and deranged Dwarves, right?”
Chubb: “Oh pish tosh! I’ve been hearing those rumors for years. Eleven years to be precise. Nothing ever comes of it.”
Milkweed (sighs): “Question?”
Chubb: “Yes?”
Milkweed: “Will there be elk? Or spiders? Or bears?”
Chubb: “Nope, just imaginary completely unreal, but don’t let them get too close or they will light you up heat monsters.”
PC: “Please, I beg of you! End my suffering!”
Milkweed: “Are those things canon?”
Chubb: “Not really, but since they are wholly imaginary it doesn’t matter.”
Milkweed: “And when I get enough of these festival tokens?”
Chubb: “Then go talk to the Events Prize Coordinator – he’s right over there – and purchase the ‘Address the crowd about something dreary and definitely not at all festive or party-like’ prize. I think it’s 80 tokens.”
Milkweed: “That sounds like a lot.”
Chubb: “Well, if you wanted to address the crowd about something fun and festive it would only be 40.”
Milkweed: “Okay.”
Chubb: “And at the same time you can pick up some fireworks from the fireworks vendor!” THAT should get the crowd’s attention.”
Milkweed: “Fine! Fine! I’m a level 43 adventurer! Mordor is about to show up and kill us all. Of COURSE I have time to run around fishing and flying kites and betting on keg races. I’ll be back! Away!”
(Mayor Whitefoot steps from the shadows).
Whitefoot: “So – did the plan work? (Heh)?”
Chubb (kneeling): “Yes, my lord High Mayor. We have managed to convince large numbers of independent adventurers that these old New York Subway tokens are extremely valuable. They are now rushing around on pointless and repetitive tasks like hauling ice and fishing, while the forces of darkness mass in safety.”
Whitefoot: “Excellent! EXCELLENT! The Dark Lord will be pleased! Ha! Ha ha! AH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!”
Chubb: “Can I please have my children back now?”
(Lightning flashes in the distance. Thunder rolls)
[Yes, there really IS a quest where you go around spitting water on people.]
ED WRITES STUFF (and nonsense) 