AWKWARD ZOMBIE

> Cranberry: Stop daydreaming. The princess is trying to get your attention through a stare-off

"Oh great," Sir Cranzibald thought to himself as the Princess arrived. Would he be browbeaten by her shrill voice and disapproving eyebrow maneuver or would she give in to her creepy fantasies about him. He noticed the way she'd stare after him, like a lovesick puppy with Madness. Even barring the painfully obvious cues, his men reported as much back to him after helping pen her diary. Her words were about as scattered and flighty as you'd imagine them to be.

But as she approached, he noticed her temperament wavered a bit, the internal struggle between the conflicting mental demons caused her face to adjust oddly until they settled into a pose and stare that could only be described as immense intestinal distress.

He returned a much more mature and refined stare, one that actually didn't focus on the princess but rather behind her. The gaze was neither condescending or improper, but the same message of taking up the task was sent.

He knew he could outlast her too. Her mind has the depth of a dried up puddle, and she could very likely forget what she was trying to accomplish before losing interest. After all, her forgetfulness was the cause of this stand-off.

But Sir Cranzibald also had an exceptional gift in endurance, especially in staring. He once had to pretend he was dead for 72 hours straight without blinking on an inside job. The flies didn't make it easy.

It also probably helped that the princess looked like she was about to piss herself, likely from the waterfalls she installed.

It's a wonder that her family can rule a kingdom. Though it seems the ability to rule is not mutually conjoined with the ability to rule well.

In any case, let's see how this little game turns out. Not that the result is hard to infer.

(Kamak

Kamak I freaking love you

This is gold)

Emilia:

You hold out for as long as you can, but you simply can't take it any longer! You call for an official time-out because you are the Princess and YOU MAKE THE RULES, DANG IT, and walk hurriedly, yet with dignity, to the lady's room. After relieving yourself, you carry yourself and your freshly emptied bladder back to Sir Cranzibald.

You start to resume your stern glare, and then realize that this is pretty freaking ridiculous! You don't even really care anymore what the reason for his lateness is, you've got important business to attend to! You still decide to cross your arms to show your distaste at the situation, though.

You give your best pseudo-smile to the Captain and say, "Thank you for coming on such short notice like this, Captain. I have a most important question to pose to you. Will you...."

Wait. Hang on a second.

"That is, I request that you...."

Crap. What was the question?

"I mean, I COMMAND that you....er....."

Oh my gosh. Are you serious, Emilia? You've already looked like a fool in front of your own Captain once today! Come on, brain, think! This is really important here! You rack your brain for your question. It's so close, on the tip of your tongue....!

Sigh.... Nothing. You got absolutely nothing out of the exercise but another headache. You take out your Princess Planner for a reminder. OK, let's see here.....hmm....nothing about what the question was. But as you look ahead, you can see that you cancelled your biweekly snark-off with Green over tea at her castle. Whatever your question is, it must be extremely important to take precedence over that! How could you let yourself forget such a vital question?!?

It suddenly dawns on you that you may have been a liiiiittle bit forgetful lately. But wait a minute. WAIT JUST A DANG MINUTE. Maybe YOU aren't the cause of your forgetfulness! Of course! It's so obvious! Since when are you ever the cause of your own problems?

You suddenly look at Cranzibald again. "Come, Captain!", you say. "Since I obviously wouldn't forget the nature of the important question I meant to ask you of my own will, someone has clearly stolen my memory, and you are coming with me to find the culprit! We will leave as soon as preparations are complete."

Truth be told, you have a hunch who the culprit is already, and if you're making the long trip to Verdenia, you'll need supplies, armor, and a weapon.

So what's your first stop?

Get ye flask...
of quality wine!
You'll need a drink or five if you want to keep your sanity through this probably mundane excursion
TO THE CELLAR

Your name is Nadine Spicket, and you are a dirty peasant.
Well that's not entirely true. The guards would never let you into the palace if you were dirty, but you are a peasant. You work as a bucket maid. Your job is to move buckets of water from the nearby well to the top of the palace, where the waterfalls connect to the Grand Hallway.

There really isn't that much to say about you really. You were born and raised in the noble tradition of bucket pouring. Before the water falls were installed your family would transfer water form one place or another when needed. Neighbors putting in a pool? Bam, a Spicket would be there, bucket in tow. Lake slightly too close to the castle? A Spicket would be there to move it a quarter inch to the left. Not gonna' lie, you're pretty dang good at what you do.


Unfortunately you're running a tad late today. The water you pooled up at the top of the reservoir is almost depleted. You can see the waterfalls slowly running dry and OH MY GOODNESS! The princess is in the hallway, talking with the captain of the guard!
You can't let her see you slacking off! She might get mad, and you won't get paid and you'll bring shame on the family name and oh no oh no, oh nononono!

>Sir Cranzibald: desperately try to find a way out of this, the last thing you need is to listen to the princess complain about the the various troubles of traveling

You start to make your way down to the cellar, but then stop when you realize that you'll never get away with drinking at the age of 20. Stupid 21 and older law! What were your parents thinking when they made that decree? Oh, well. One more year, one more year, one more year....

Anyway, Cranzibald should be simple enough to evade while you go take a sip of your parents' reserve, but you forgot about HER. Your lady-in-waiting. She's always catching you doing something you shouldn't be, and then it's ear tugging all the way up to your room and a lecture about responsibility and carrying on your parents' legacy and blah blah blah blah blah. What a nag! Your ear hurts just thinking about it! You never seem to be able to do anything right by her. Why, if you were to assign her an alignment, she'd be Lawful Good for sure. Assuming you know what those things mean, which you don't.

And what's the deal with her insisting that you follow in the path of your parents? They've been dead for five years now! Maybe it's time to forge a new path, you know? Make the kingdom better. Oh, great, now you're sad. You take out your handkerchief and blow your nose. Who are you kidding? You WISH you were half the ruler Papa and Mama were. Wait, does that mean you wish you were as good as just one of them....? Ugh, it doesn't matter! They're dead now and you miss them and you could really use some advice sometimes about how to run this stupid country and now you're REALLY sad! You wipe your eyes and blow your nose again, and Cranzibald gives you a sympathetic pat on the head. You suddenly remember why you hired him again. Again.

Let's leave the wine cellar alone for now and spare your ear. And another handkerchief.



Hmm..... A change of clothes would be nice. You're going to need to do some serious hiking to get through the forest surrounding Green's Kingdom of Stupid, and your gown isn't exactly suitable traveling clothes to begin with. But you decide that it would make more sense to properly protect yourself first, and to do that, you'll need to go to the armory. Guarding your royal keister is a top priority.

As you make your way to the armory, you walk past the grand hall again and see a peasant girl on top of one of the waterfalls. What was her name again? Spinnet? Spirit? Spigot? Something like that. Oh crap is it her birthday today?!?!? Wait, no, hers isn't for several months, either. What's going on up there? She seems quite frantic about something. When she sees you looking at her, she goes wide-eyed and gives a nervous smile and bows. You give her a small curtsey and continue on your way, hoping that whatever disaster she is about to cause will happen well after you leave and be dealt with before you return. You really want to get this journey underway already, and you can't be stopping every five minutes to reprimand people.

At the armory, you stop between two doors. The left door leads to where armor is stored, and the right door leads to where weapons are stored. You really don't care which one you enter first, since you'll need both, but you decide to let the voice of democracy in your head dictate for you. It's served you well in the past and you doubt it will let you down today.

Which door will you enter first?

Best offense is a good defense. Hit up that left door in case you become too busy to get to both.

Misfortunes abound as Sir Cranzibald finds nary a soul around to suggest a suitable replacement. There was a peasant girl, but he could tell she was rushing to and fro and trying her best to stay out of the princess' line of sight. Obviously the girl was "slacking on her chores" despite looking like she was being run ragged. This was a common sight in this kingdom, unfortunately.

The princess elected to go down to the royal wine cellar for some unwarranted consumption, and Sir Cranzibald followed along. Normally he would have stood his ground against the princess and quietly summoned her lady-in-waiting for some delicious, and rare, scolding (after all, he had to remain in her good graces and her lady-in-waiting's job was to be the royal stick up the royal booty anyways), however this trip offered up an opportunity.

While down there, he procured a couple of small corks. They were the perfect shape and size for soundproof ear accoutrements, or to the laymen of this emergent era "ear plugs". He was so used to her mannerisms at this point that he could accurately predict her responses based on her face and body language, with a bit of a penchant for lip-reading, at least for the words she typically used. He could feign sympathy for her vapid problems and even respond if etiquette warranted it, such as now putting a hand on her head to comfort her on one of the few moments she likely felt inadequate compared to her superiors. She always seems to reflect on this sort of thing when she attempts to do something "adult".

The little troll then stormed off toward the armory and Cranzibald reluctantly followed. They came across the same peasant girl, only this time she was spotted by the princess. The poor girl froze like a prey out in the open to a predator, but the princess continued along, too stubborn in her goal to stop and reprimand her or figure out what was happening. They soon left the girl behind and Sir Cranzibald was sure she collapsed to her knees from the stress of the moment. Poor thing.

At the armory, Sir Cranzibald secretly hoped the princess would get lost in the sheer volume of supplies and tire out her desire for whatever hare-brained adventure she had cooked up. After all, she tended to spend hours, or even days, planning out elaborate trips only to scrap them when she grows bored from the planning.

"I doubt anything will even come from this lunacy," he thought to himself.

The voice of democracy urges you to go left! And when democracy calls, you answer! But only in your head, of course.

Shiny mail armor lines the walls of the left room, meant to be used as replacement armor for the soldiers should their regular suit become damaged in battle. Eww.... It smells like sweaty men in here! When was the last time these suits of armor were cleaned?!?!? You'd better hurry up and find something to protect yourself with, and then get out of here before you pass out from the stench!

You see a magnificent steel breastplate, brilliant steel pants, gauntlets, and boots, and a fabulous tower shield sitting near the window at the other end of the room. Perfect! Nothing could penetrate rock-hard defense like that! You tell Sir Smart Aleck to take those stupid corks out of his ears and help you put this stuff on. Yeah, you noticed those, wise guy. Not as dumb as he thinks, are you?

Cranzibald sighs, takes out his makeshift ear plugs, and fits the armor onto you. It's absolutely, 100%, no doubt about it, perfect! Except.....it's too heavy! You can barely walk a few feet in this getup without having to stop to catch your breath! And it's so hot in here, you're roasting alive! Oh, and let's not even MENTION the smell! OK, so maybe it's a bit farther from perfect than you thought. Did you mention how hot it is in this thing?!? You tell Cranzibald to get it off you NOW, and with a little effort, you're free! Sheesh, what a nightmare that was. Never again.

OK, so now what? You still need to wear something! Hmm? What's that over there? In the corner of the room, there's a full set of plate mail armor. It's so ugly, though! But, on the other hand, plate mail armor is considerably lighter than steel armor, while still offering satisfactory protection. You think you'll consider your other options before committing to it, though. It's like you always say: Choose your armor like you choose your boyfriends.

Nothing else strikes your fancy except a set of leather armor off in another corner of the room. What an adorable piece this is! Mobility and fashion all in one! Plus, these leather pants look to be just about the right size to accentuate your best assets. However, they're pretty light, and won't protect you from as much as you might hope for. A sword slash or two, sure, but you certainly don't expect this to be stopping arrows anytime soon.

So what do you think, voice of democracy? Plate armor or leather armor?

Leather armor! We're gonna be wearing this for at least a few hours, and heavy stuff is for the knights anyways.

>Get ye frills

Emilia:

You're a little bit confused about what the voice of democracy is saying to you. Neither of the suits of armor have frills!