Post by Gawain on Oct 14, 2023 18:35:02 GMT -5
Even though the boy had promised that he would follow the lightning mage as he would lead them towards this ‘Locked in’ thing, there was a bit of a kink in the road. For when they passed by the main grounds of the festival, his eyes were drawn towards another competition. This time, it wasn’t something as potentially dangerous as the zombie hunt, nor was it something quite as simple as a dressing competition where all one needed to do was stand around and wait to be judged by a bunch of people that knew better. Imagining this jury to be a group of fashionistas from the royal capital that were doing or had done work involving dressing the king and queen, the highest and riches of nobles, and in so doing became the people you would go to regarding fashion. After all, when you were the one dressing these kinds of people, you were the authority on style and fashion.
But Gawain wasn’t here for the fashion show, he was here for the pumpkin carving, an event that actually seemed like it had the potential to be a lot of fun. It was also one of those things that he had never done before, but was willing to learn. Strangely enough, ever since he had learned about the farm of Cherry Vale, part of him had become more and more interested in growing produce, as well as looking after animals of his own. If all of the paperwork could be tended to in a proper manner, it would be a place where he could actually rest his head in the knowledge that it was his own. Though there was one big problem with that, this being the fact that he was well and truly alone and only fifteen years of age. He knew how to get dressed and do battle, he knew how tell when someone was lying to him and when something was sneaking up on him, though he had no idea how to deal with pesky things such as taxes.
It was why there had been talk of instating a majordomo, a man or woman who would come to live at the farm in order to oversee everything and making sure nothing would fall into a state of disrepair. Because there were also tasks that needed to be distributed among a small group of individuals if they were to actually run the place as a farm, money would need to be spent in order to make money. For this, Gawain was simply ill suited, which was something he himself was perfectly well aware of. Once he put his stamp of approval on the plans, the farm would fully become his, while the majordomo would take on any and all tasks around the place until Gawain himself was old enough to have the whole property placed into his care. If that point came, he imagined he would be having a much more difficult time balancing his free time with the time he needed to spend around the place and the time he’d need to spend as a magic knight.
Wandering past the stand that had the gourds and pumpkins, as well as the carving knives, he took one of each and made his way to the nearest empty table. While there were more crowded ones, he didn’t want to learn how to do this by watching others, as he felt that it would be cheating if he did. Being the kind of sportsmanlike person that he was, the boy had an amazing drive to win whenever he competed for something, though there was also a sort of honor in play. It was one of those things his former mentor had managed to talk into him. There was honor in competition and in battle, the latter of which had been entirely new to the boy, having gotten rather used to simply killing people he had been pointed towards by his owner. When told to kill if one wanted to eat, drink and sleep, honor wasn’t something one could risk worrying about. And seeing as how much easier it was to kill someone when they slept or got blackout drunk, resorting to such means had always been his go to solution.
Sticking the knife into the side of the pumpkin, Gawan began making some gentle cuts. Not wanting to do any kind of damage he wouldn’t be able to fix later down the line, the area he carved out was made to resemble a rather angry looking eye. Removing the knife to make another incision on the opposite side, another eye was cut out in a similar fashion. Finding this to be relatively easy, he looked at the angry eyed pumpkin and began thinking about what it would be needing next. Finding that it lacked any real personality, the next incision was made above the eye, shallow cuts made to not cut all the way through, but remove a bit of the outer skin. With quick and shallow motions in succession, eyebrows were put into place, adding a bit of personality to the otherwise lacking pair of eyes. As he continued carving, he thought about why Griswold would have wanted him to take over as head of the family.
Sure, he was the only one left that they knew about, though more could end up coming out of the woodwork once more people became aware of their last name. One of the main flaws about Griswold’s own crusade had always been his approach, never using his last name or making it known that he was in any way looking for lost relatives. It had been one of the main points of contention when it came down to him. In Gawain’s case, he didn’t care, simple as that. Anyone he knew that hadn’t died during the raid had abandoned him when he needed their aid as a child. They had escaped on their own and left him and his mother, among others, to be taken or killed. For all he cared, if he never saw them again, that would be a-okay. Stabbing into the pumpkin with a bit of force, the next series of cuts were more akin to deep slices, prying away large chunks to create a large gaping maw with pointy teeth.
Digging into the maw with his hands to pull out as much of the innards as he could reach, it was a good thing his hands and fingers hadn’t fully developed into those of a man yet, or he might have been in a bit of trouble here. Tossing the innards onto the floor, he took a good hard look at the pumpkin as he kept pondering on what was just past the horizon. If the farm he had been granted was only there so that he might round up the lost members of their family, he wasn’t quite certain if he wanted it to begin with. Believing it best to leave such thoughts for later, the boy decided that he should meet up with this majordomo person sooner rather than later. For now though, Gawain put two more holes between the eyes and the mouth, creating nostrils that added the last few finishing touches to his now completed pumpkin carving. Placing it onto the table for the judges, he waited around just long enough for the rest of the people present to finish theirs.
Out of the fifteen people that participated, from what he could tell, he should have been quite happy with a fourth place. Some of the works of art left behind by the contenders were so intricate that he had trouble believing they were made with the same dagger he had been given. That said, the only real purpose a dagger in his hands had was to slit throats and guts. His hands weren’t meant for artistry, they were meant for bloodshed and murder. But still he tried to defy the odds, to work against the cards that fate had dealt him as a means of proving that he alone was in control of where he might eventually end up in this life. Thanking the judges for their harsh but fair grading, the boy returned to the festival terrain to see if he could find the lightning mage. They still had another activity to run after all.
WC: 1397
Total WC: 4917
Arriving from: Zombie Games are dead serious
Leaving into: Five Minutes at Freddy's
But Gawain wasn’t here for the fashion show, he was here for the pumpkin carving, an event that actually seemed like it had the potential to be a lot of fun. It was also one of those things that he had never done before, but was willing to learn. Strangely enough, ever since he had learned about the farm of Cherry Vale, part of him had become more and more interested in growing produce, as well as looking after animals of his own. If all of the paperwork could be tended to in a proper manner, it would be a place where he could actually rest his head in the knowledge that it was his own. Though there was one big problem with that, this being the fact that he was well and truly alone and only fifteen years of age. He knew how to get dressed and do battle, he knew how tell when someone was lying to him and when something was sneaking up on him, though he had no idea how to deal with pesky things such as taxes.
It was why there had been talk of instating a majordomo, a man or woman who would come to live at the farm in order to oversee everything and making sure nothing would fall into a state of disrepair. Because there were also tasks that needed to be distributed among a small group of individuals if they were to actually run the place as a farm, money would need to be spent in order to make money. For this, Gawain was simply ill suited, which was something he himself was perfectly well aware of. Once he put his stamp of approval on the plans, the farm would fully become his, while the majordomo would take on any and all tasks around the place until Gawain himself was old enough to have the whole property placed into his care. If that point came, he imagined he would be having a much more difficult time balancing his free time with the time he needed to spend around the place and the time he’d need to spend as a magic knight.
Wandering past the stand that had the gourds and pumpkins, as well as the carving knives, he took one of each and made his way to the nearest empty table. While there were more crowded ones, he didn’t want to learn how to do this by watching others, as he felt that it would be cheating if he did. Being the kind of sportsmanlike person that he was, the boy had an amazing drive to win whenever he competed for something, though there was also a sort of honor in play. It was one of those things his former mentor had managed to talk into him. There was honor in competition and in battle, the latter of which had been entirely new to the boy, having gotten rather used to simply killing people he had been pointed towards by his owner. When told to kill if one wanted to eat, drink and sleep, honor wasn’t something one could risk worrying about. And seeing as how much easier it was to kill someone when they slept or got blackout drunk, resorting to such means had always been his go to solution.
Sticking the knife into the side of the pumpkin, Gawan began making some gentle cuts. Not wanting to do any kind of damage he wouldn’t be able to fix later down the line, the area he carved out was made to resemble a rather angry looking eye. Removing the knife to make another incision on the opposite side, another eye was cut out in a similar fashion. Finding this to be relatively easy, he looked at the angry eyed pumpkin and began thinking about what it would be needing next. Finding that it lacked any real personality, the next incision was made above the eye, shallow cuts made to not cut all the way through, but remove a bit of the outer skin. With quick and shallow motions in succession, eyebrows were put into place, adding a bit of personality to the otherwise lacking pair of eyes. As he continued carving, he thought about why Griswold would have wanted him to take over as head of the family.
Sure, he was the only one left that they knew about, though more could end up coming out of the woodwork once more people became aware of their last name. One of the main flaws about Griswold’s own crusade had always been his approach, never using his last name or making it known that he was in any way looking for lost relatives. It had been one of the main points of contention when it came down to him. In Gawain’s case, he didn’t care, simple as that. Anyone he knew that hadn’t died during the raid had abandoned him when he needed their aid as a child. They had escaped on their own and left him and his mother, among others, to be taken or killed. For all he cared, if he never saw them again, that would be a-okay. Stabbing into the pumpkin with a bit of force, the next series of cuts were more akin to deep slices, prying away large chunks to create a large gaping maw with pointy teeth.
Digging into the maw with his hands to pull out as much of the innards as he could reach, it was a good thing his hands and fingers hadn’t fully developed into those of a man yet, or he might have been in a bit of trouble here. Tossing the innards onto the floor, he took a good hard look at the pumpkin as he kept pondering on what was just past the horizon. If the farm he had been granted was only there so that he might round up the lost members of their family, he wasn’t quite certain if he wanted it to begin with. Believing it best to leave such thoughts for later, the boy decided that he should meet up with this majordomo person sooner rather than later. For now though, Gawain put two more holes between the eyes and the mouth, creating nostrils that added the last few finishing touches to his now completed pumpkin carving. Placing it onto the table for the judges, he waited around just long enough for the rest of the people present to finish theirs.
Out of the fifteen people that participated, from what he could tell, he should have been quite happy with a fourth place. Some of the works of art left behind by the contenders were so intricate that he had trouble believing they were made with the same dagger he had been given. That said, the only real purpose a dagger in his hands had was to slit throats and guts. His hands weren’t meant for artistry, they were meant for bloodshed and murder. But still he tried to defy the odds, to work against the cards that fate had dealt him as a means of proving that he alone was in control of where he might eventually end up in this life. Thanking the judges for their harsh but fair grading, the boy returned to the festival terrain to see if he could find the lightning mage. They still had another activity to run after all.
WC: 1397
Total WC: 4917
Arriving from: Zombie Games are dead serious
Leaving into: Five Minutes at Freddy's
