Euotioa: Fallen Lands Draft Chapter 7

Euotioa: Fallen Lands

Draft Chapter Seven

Penelope lost the energy to be angry at her uncle and the party. Her first hour within the Crescent Courtyard filled her with a rush of emotions. Excitement, fear, wonder, curiosity, and even jealosy. "Hello, splendid to meet you! It's Carla Bakerfend!" "Hello Carla Bakerfend, I'm Penelope Donald." The spry young woman laughed heartily, her large nostrils flaring as she did so. "No dear it's Bakerfend! Like your back, and then fend!" Penelope held a resigned smile on her face. This Carla woman was gorgeous. Then again, it seemed Penelope couldn't hold a candle to the looks of anyone there; or their outfits, or their sense of posture, stature, class, and mannerisms. Penelope took a look at her dress...she was gorgeous still, for the sake of another bothersome reminder. "Do you like it?" The woman said, twirling the bright green dress with a purple vail. "Sorry if contrasting colors throw you off. It's a Merlidean design and he's from one of those island nations...Feng Shu, or maybe Gozantium, after their little beetle gods! That's what my mother told me. She said it's the colors of the beetles there!" The woman kept talking; Penelope eyed her body in the outift, being more polite instead of staring dumbfounded into her eyes. Carla was not only beautiful, but came off as intellegent, maybe even sexy if she could shut her trap for another human being to speak to her. Her black skin was an amazing compliment to the purple and thus on. "So, what's the story behind your dress Penelope? Oohhh I just love this splendiforous glow it gives off!" Penelope now was assuredly certain this woman was off her rocker, wasting seconds to compliment her own dress over the Merlidean design. "Ummm, well, I think it's...umm I think it's a Dewey design, my father told me." The glitzy woman's eye stayed lit, full of interest. "Ooh, I've never heard of him! Is he new to the Northern Lands?"
"Ladies and gentlemen, if you'd please find your seats at your assigned tables!" came a loud screech. The folks turned, rubbing their ears at the loud, high pitched contraption spoken into by Sigmund Drottle. He quickly clasped his hands in apoloy, then fiddled with the device, speaking once more. "Again, please find your assigned tables at the bottom right corner of the venue! The ceremony is reaching it's commencement soon!" "It was lovely meeting you Penelope!" said Carla. With that, Carla bent into her new acquantice's face, gently biting her right ear. Penelope gasped, ready to hurl a swear at the freakish girl. She simply smiled and began following the crowd. "Merrish girls, can't live with em', can't live without em'," came an elderly man's voice. He laughed in Penelope's direction, holding out his handshake for a greeting...Penelope shook his hand, hoping whatever land he hailed from violated the least amount of personal space.
         Penelope got lost in the scenery, not too intentionally. The courtyard was not a bewitching display of wonders to her, going against the high amounts of praise others were giving it. "Ahh a Breole cocunut tree! How'd it survive the voyage I wonder?" "Oh look at the mutt there, darling, look at his muzzle! Bent like a baby's nose! We must have one of our own!" "Spider beetle, miss?" Penelope stopped, drawn out of the noise by a waitress in front of her. "Straight from the Gozantium desert." Penelope stared at the pile of crisp black insects almost the size of her fists. Much like the rest of her enviornment, the bugs made her feel out of place. She came to reinforce her previous judgements even stronger. She didn't like this Higher culture, where the rich become so vain that a damned bug on a plate is considered a delicacy next to perfectly good chopped meat on the same platter! Penelope brushed past the server with a curt, "No thank you."

         Penelope serenely walked through the yard, trying to find her place. It seems she wasn't the only one having problems finding her seat. The tables were numerous and intricately designed with flower vases, candles, and white linen cloths. Among the fanciful settings were name placards too small to read at a respectable distance. As she cursed the Party Committee for their lack of insight, Penelope saw Ansel wave her over to a table. "Penelope, meet Terholn Grabbas, second master of coin at Sundown banks," said Ansel, motioning to a dwarf beside him. He was older, with a thicker red beard and dry skin. "How do you do child? Enjoying the party?" he said to her jovially. "It's, well, it's grand magnififul." Magnififul? Damn, she'd botched a fancy word. Some Higher girl she was. The dwarf smiled, noticing nothing. "Come, sit child, we're talking coin, as dwarves do. Have you heard of the Gold party?" "Oh come, don't be shoving your mantra in the girl's face. She's 17, not able to vote," Ansel said.
         "There's no age limit to protecting the coin of Euotioa!" said Terholn. From there he gabbed on about the importance's of "hard money" and how it's future would shape the economy of Euotioa. Ansel played the hard headed devil's advocate and Penelope allowed herself to be released from the conversation. She tended to the perfectly aligned silverware, tapping on them lightly and making shapes. She hated their perfection, their tale of dedication for whoever had to learn their proper placement. No doubt someone at the party would complain if they were simply thrust onto the table for geusts to grab. No, poor young fools needed to be paid to set them, lest those they catered to complained and got someone fired. Or killed, if their masters were Higher enough.
         "You're attention please!" came Drottle's voice. Everyone turned to find him at a podium in the center of the garden. "Please enjoy your appetizers, as they are being served now. The Queen and Royal Defense are preparing themselves and in the meantime we have some entertainment!" His hands clapped together twice. Nothing. He looked towards his side, a worried expression worn on his face. "And now there's-dammit...". Penelope grinned. "This is better than the actual show," she said. Ansel elbowed her. Suddenly, a large cracking sound released a puff of smoke near Drottle. He shrieked and the crowd laughed. Standing next to him was a band of large men; they held drums and other strange instruments slung around their shoulders like weapons. Drottle was wide eyed as a bald man extended his hand towards him with a smile. "Thank you, sir Drottle." His voice was like a lion captured in a bottle. "I believe we can announce ourselves. I am Kravlon, born in the Falkenlands under the Boori clans. We are the Boori," he said gesturing towards his men. "And this, is our music." Drottle scuttled off the stage with a quick bow as Kravlon and his men assembled. From the back, the men drew a grave hum. It could be felt in every spine as all eyes and ears drew to them.
The music ruptured without warning. Two men banged on drums with different beats, and a man with a stringed instrument strummed with both hands. Penelope tried her hardest to follow their hands, which seemed to be in a constant blur. PRLING PLRING, BLRLBLING! PLRING PLRING, BRLBING! DAUMM, DA-DADA-DAUM, DAUM, DA-DADA-DAUM. Penelope studied the crowd; everyone looked worried, as if the men held blades and muskets instead of tune-makers. This clearly was not thier form of merryment. Penelope bit her lip in a challanged sense. This music was probobly not her taste; but it ferverently continued, ignoring her protests for gentle, clean sound vibrations. Strangely enough, she felt she grew to like it; unlike everything else at the party, it's existence seemed to intentionally intimidate her. She liked the unsettling feeling in her bowels. "ALIVE! AND NOT, FORGOTTEN! OUR WOES, THEY STAY STILL SAID." Kravolon screamed into the night sky, his voice carrying above the drums. "THE ONES, WHO COME, WE'VE FOUGHT THEM! THEIR FIGHT, THIER PLIGHT, IS DEAD!" "HOO, HOO, HOO!" A number of geusts turned from the audacious display as their appetizers arrived. "Good, let the ones with spine have some fun." Penelope mumbled under the noise. She enjoyed any entertainers who could make these wheezebags anxious. She found herself tapping and gently screeching the lyrics after the song ended.

After them came jesters, which seemed more tuned towards the Queen's crowd. In silly outfits they danced, juggled, and balanced all manner of objects on their heads. Penelope was amused by their physical talents but the jokes were obviously tailored towards the Higher's in the crowd. The humor flew over her head completley.
So abundant was the entertainment, the guests seemed to not care about the Queen's arrival. Food flew past in droves, more so than any Penelope had seen in her life. And these were only the appetizers. "Ansel, have you seen Uncle Donald anywhere?" Penelope asked. Ansel tore himself from a crab claw to ansewer. "He's sitting with the Royal's officers. Going to be announced with Queen Hageburn." That was all the conversation he held before diving back into the food. Penelope eyed the counter; plates were filled with food refuse of all kinds. Shells and foodstuffs covered in strange sauces of all colors and smells. One platter of purple variety caught her attention. It smelled like fish, but had strange purple scales which ran along blue tentacles; the tentacles were numerous among the trash, so she assumed that part wasn't edible. Indecively she pinched some off onto her plate for later. "Not so hungry, my dear?" came a voice behind her.
Penelope turned in her chair to find an elderly man standing behind her. He had an unpleasant look about him, wearing a dark black suit and tall hat. Penelope was unnerved by his smile, a toothy grin showcasing his withered yellow teeth. "Marlyn Chalon," he said, tipping his hat with a bow. The table had now grown silent; Marlyn strolled along the isles, brandishing a bottle from his pants pocket. "Ladies and gentleman of the court, may I add a little food for thought to your plates?" he announced. "I am Marlyn Chalon and I weild, not magic, but the power of the world itself. Observe!" The crowd watched as Penelope's cup was grabbed and doused with a drop from Marlyn's bottle. He smiled devilishly and handed her the cup. "Young girl, would you give us the honor of your name?" Penelope felt all eyes on her. "I'm Penny, er Penelope, in full." Her hands formed a fists in embarassment, strong fists, which wanted to punch the number of people giggling at her. "A fine name, Penny!" Maryln said. "Here, drink! Feel your horomones cry out in a vigorous roar! Your mind will expand in my concoction, every pore in your body will shine in the brilliant white of your skin. Go on!" Penelope gulped the drink, if not in disbelief, then to show this showoff away. He mentioned nothing of the taste, which turned her dull water into a sour, sugar filled waste.
As Penelope's face churned, she felt a strange tingling sensation-it vibrated from her toes to her head. "Ahh, the look on her face says it all, folks!" Marlyn said. Penelope's heart pace quickened; she felt invigorated and anxious. More tables took noticed and quietley whispered the effects. "Damned wizard!" could be heard from the audience. Marlyn laughed. "I weild no magical powress fellow humans. Only the highest intricacies of nature. Observe!" He leaned in, grabbing the lobes of hair around Penelope's head. When it was drew in front of her eyes, she saw a bright blue streak replace her dirty blone colours. "Wha-how did-?" Penelope grabbed a silver glass and saw a muddied reflection of a blue eyed girl. She threw the platter and gasped. Marlyn stood behind her laughing. "Everyone lend your applause for Penelope!" They did so; Ansel clapped especially loud, chanting: "Blueberry girl! Blueberry girl! Haha!" She slumped down into her chair, trying her hardest to avoid everyone's gaze. Marlyn grabbed a hand, gently placing something inside. "The antidote, in case this isn't your colour dear. Otherwise, come see me, the hut on the end of Burthen street. You look fabulous in blue but I think red is more your colour." He gave her one of his sinister smiles before venturing off to try his trick on another table. Penelope swallowed the antidote before her wilder side of emotions could persuade her otherwise.