ArchivedLogs:Old School

Old School
Dramatis Personae Ion, Spencer, Dragonling
In Absentia	2017-07-31 Smash! Smash!
Location <NY> New York Renaissance Faire - Upstate
It's bright today, sunny and hot and, currently, quite loud with the clashes of steel on steel. On a giant-scaled checkerboard cordoned off in a roped-off field, an elfin-eared woman in padded leather armor is taunting the more heavily-plated man who currently stands on the darkened square. Clang! Clang clang! Far more nimble than the human knight, the fae pawn dances circles around him before ultimately dispatching her opponent and taking his square. "/Shit/ yo I always thought chess boring as fuck if it like this all the time maybe more people play?" Ion does not look /entirely/ In Theme for their surroundings -- not that it's required -- in jeans and stompy boots, Mongrels vest over a plain white tee. There's a circlet of pink and white flowers (wrought in satiny cloth) crowning his wavy dark locks, though, ribbons hanging long down his back, and at somewhere along the way he's picked up a large gossamer pair of fairy wings that more or less match this. A stuffed dragon perches on his shoulder, tail winding down around his arm to keep it in place. A considerably /less/ stuffed dragonling has their own ride in a stroller by his side, which he's currently half-leaning on, a tall condensation-wreathed cup of frozen lemonade held in one hand and a very large turkey leg (with which he's busy gesticulating toward the living chess match) in the other. Egg is also very keen on the chess match, standing up in their stroller and clicking loudly to compensate for eyes near squinted shut against the daylight. 'Fight fight fight!' they sign enthusiastically. 'Dad you fight too, Dad! Let's go fight!' Their ears swivel toward their companion. 'You fight too? /So/ much fun!' Spencer /is/ somewhat dressed for the era, in a loose-fitting, puffy-sleeved linen shirt, a blue canvas vest trimmed in black (a matching bycocket perched jauntily on his head), an iridescent blue-purple sash, and gray wrap pants tucked into tall black boots. His ball of frozen lemonade is perhaps less period, which is probably not why he's only half-heartedly licking at it. He follows the direction of Ion and Egg's gesticulations and smiles broad and bright. "I don't think they let you just join in, it's not how the game works." His free hand sim-coms a bit sloppily as he speaks. "There's a stage combat school over that way. They probably have a minimum age, though..." "I think they having a special fight, Monsterling. Like Fight Club, huh? Invites only. Rules on who can join." Ion half-turns, peering off in the direction Spencer points. "Wait like a place they /teach/ this?" His eyebrows hike up, and he glances down at Spencer. "Little rabbit, how you feel about beating on some things today? You can be a teenage for the day, I ain't gonna rat you out." Egg's excitement is not much dampened by the revelation that they cannot join the chess match. 'I like games, can /I/ play this game?' They scramble up onto the awning of their stroller so they can be at eye level with Spencer. 'We go learn to fight? Do I get a /sword/?' "Maybe not /quite/ like that," Spencer allows, watching a bishop raise his mace to smite an opposing pawn. "But they teach kids how to look good play-fighting with all kinds of cool old weapons." He licks his lips, considers. "That might be fun, but -- Frittata is definitely too young for that school and you're /probably/ too old?" He eyes Ion speculatively. "I shouldn't drag you along to something you can't do. You /can/ learn how to play chess, though," he informs Egg brightly. "Just. Not with so many swords." "Psh Egg ain't too young for nothing, we can teach all on our own then how to hit things." Ion's eyes are bright, eager. "I bet somewhere here we can find some swords. Staffs? I don't know, you a tiny old-school knight, what would /you/ fight with?" He's eying Spencer JUST AS SPECULATIVELY. Sizing him up just before he looks down an adjoining pathway, eying the stalls and shops lining it. 'Smash! Smash!' Egg's outburst seems more aimed at encouraging the combatants (presumably the bishop currently engage in smashing) then a response to their father or Spencer as such. Standing up, somewhat unsteady on top of the stroller's awning, they stretch out their wings and prepare for takeoff. "Oh yeah you can get /tons/ of weapons here!" Spencer bounces up onto his toes as if he were about to just zip off in search of said weapons. "That shop there has Omelette-sized ones made of wood." He points out a kiosk bristling with staves, maces, and wooden swords. "But me? I'd be /really/ well armed, I mean you need different weapons for different situations right like -- whoa Quiche hold up let's go see some weapons huh?" He blips out of existence only to reappear in front of the stroller, blocking Egg's flight path. Then, thoughtfully, as he has not interrupted himself, "/Maybe/ a shield." "We go get /you/ some thing for smashing, yeah? Bien?" Ion perks up, gesturing to the nearby stall. "{See look how much smashing you could do we'll have you tricked the fuck out. Boss monster.}" He reaches out a hand casually, fuzzing at the top of Egg's head and only incidentally guiding them back into the stroller before starting to push it. The look he gives Spencer is longer. Thoughtful, before he breaks into a bright grin. "Hell yeah. That'll do you /proper/. C'mon, little brother, we find you a /good/ sturdy shield you take Steve /on/ in the Hero Olympics."