Goodbye to Gravity, and to Death(IC)

[Supercape]

"A...darkling...yes..." replied a slightly confused Rene, presuming the grand cook was referring to the complexion of his partner.

He had never agreed with racism, of course - although as a young man he was probably guilty of such by virtue of ignorance. It hadn't helped when he had ran into a few nasty witchdoctors in the south of France. But then, of course, there had been Jean, one of his lovers from many years ago, with black-gold skin and a voice of silk....

Shuffling away from more pleasant memories, no doubt inspired by the intoxicating world of the Fey, he reigned in his attention to the cook once more.

Distracted by memories and dreams. Seduced by oneself. We must not stay in this realm to long, less we not leave...

"Excellent company sir" he continued "to be in so fine a kitchen, with so delicious a concoction or aroma's! Ze place is alive with spice and scent! Wonderful!"

"Alas, I hope Ze Parsinkle and Hartfoul appreciate so splendid a talent! I fear their eyes look elsewhere...what say you?"

[Ari]

Raising an eyebrow at being so described, Marceau added to René's brisk words.

"I am not unpleasant to be around, good cook, do not fear. My friend speaks quite truly," he added with a magnanimous gesture to the kitchen and a bright smile "I cannot imagine how anyone can keep their head in such a place! So much to see and hear, an endless riot." the lean Frenchman smiled up guilelessly at the cook "I would say it could drown out any conversation spoken less than a foot from, you, wouldn't you agree?" accompanying this with a quick wink, Marceau hoped this might edge the rough elf over into curiosity.

To help it along, he spoke just a few words more "And speaking of drowning...you have many fine wines, ales and other spirits within this cavern?"

[Ari]

GM

"The lordships? Nay, they rarely tread my kitchen halls" the cook admitted, doffing his hat and wiping his streaming forehead to reveal a very bald crown. He didn't seem very put out, however, his bright eye glinting evilly at the pair and the beginning of a grin on his face. With great speed he stretched out an arm and smacked a henchfey stumbling past him, the lean girl nearly collapsing under the weight of an enormous pot from which the delicious smell of pork came "Wrong way, Twinetingle!" he snapped without looking away from the humans "Up north by the coal fires I said! Be off with ye! Your pardon, graces" he added with an endearing smile "but sometimes my minions are simply impossible to manage. Now, you were asking about the lordships and the cellars? Well, Parsinkle is a goodly Prince, he rules well and comes down here every few years to check I lay no plots agin' him" he snickered "As if he could tell if I or any other did, eh? As for the lordship Hartfoul..."for the first time his cheer dimmed, and he looked askance at the milling hordes around his pedestal and reaching off to the massive walls "...he is...a sober gentlefey, of great holdings and little need to worry his old head about such as old Grindwent or his guests, and whatever words we might whisper." that was said more hopefully than sure. Glancing back at his guests, Grindwent grew more cheerful and attended to the second question.

"My cellars? They are just this way! Come, follow!" so saying the energetic cook launched off his pedestal and took to his heels, clearing a(messy) path through the mobs of underlings with great swings of his long arms and ladle, hauling René and Marceau after him at a furious rate. All the same the three men took over ten minutes to arrive at the round and rather small oaken door that led down into the cellars. Opening it with a rusty key that ground in the lock, and standing aside to let two young Fey dart out who were hastily rearranging their clothes and glancing at each other with roguish twinkles in their eyes, Grindwent led the way down, lighting the way by a soft radiance that went before him. It passed over an unguessable wealth of bottles, casks, and every other sort of way to keep liquor cool and fresh, the shelves so laden they creaked gently in the sudden quiet. Where their guide went was to some ancient part, down increasingly dim, cobwebbed and dusty hallways where the sconces grew further and further apart, briskly smacking other amorous couples the trio chanced upon and loudly ordering them back to work.

Halting beside a small and solitary table, he plopped onto it a bottle of white wine of unimaginable antiquity. Pouring three goblets he smiled at the pair "So! Ye have something in store for our fair Prince, eh? Care to reveal any delectable secrets?" the fey asked with a greedy look in his eyes.

[Supercape]

"Secrets are delectable, are they not!" roared Rene with laughter, warming to the cook and helping himself to a very generous glass of ancient wine.

"My dear Grindwent, you are to be congratulated on your cellar" he said, a soppy grin over his face.

"As for secrets, the partner of lies, well, we hear only whispers. Who can say what truth there is in them? Hartfoul and Parsinkle conspire, tis true. They seek dominion of this realm...and others. What manner of dominion, and the means to achieve that, I know not. But my gut, full of wine, tells me it is an ill boding!"

He smacked his lips in appreciation.

"Excellent wine!"

Let us see how they handle the truth for a change!

[Ari]

Marceau remained more or less quiet during the trip, keeping his cape pulled tightly against himself and his face as impassive as he could as the strange trio scurried deeper and deeper into the cellars. Once or twice he could have sworn he caught sight of bedrock running through the floors, but in the flickering torchlight such things were far from certain. When they arrived at the table, he gravely and with polite words took a cup but made no motion to drink it. 'If these creatures can cause bottles to float' he thought as he scanned the bright and tangled heart of the bottle on the incongruous ledge 'What subtler things might they do?'

The King of Suits smiled with only slightly feigned merriment at René's joviality. "My comrade is quite right in his praise, Grindwent. Your cellars hold treasures." he grinned at the rhyme and went on quickly "Treasures, perhaps that might be used for..advancement?" Leaning against the wall he swirled the wine slowly in the cup, speaking as he watched it "As the esteemed wizard says, so we have heard, perhaps from their lordships own tongues..."

[Ari]

GM

Grindwent's dark red eyes grew even darker at René's news. Guzzling a draught from his cup and wiping his mouth delicately with a heraldic kerchief, the master of the kitchens said with a faintly conspiratorial air "Now then, now then...so the rumors are true." A greedy look shone in his eyes "Secrets are wealth, wizard and companion, you cannot have payed for such knowledge at any low price. Aye, even down here the plots of the High Lords trickle down like the dew of nectar on yer world, small drops that promise a greater source. Our Prince Parsinkle is known to be discontent, he is known to desire rulership over others. But...dominion over this realm? And more?" Grindwent grinned "He must be savage indeed with want of glory. Hartfoul is an old schemer from the red courts of Arcadia itself, a bloated and crafty spider whose plots leave many dangling in their own skins, together they would forge a plot like that..."

The cook jumped to his feet and began to hurry them down another passage, which grew danker and darker by the yard "My thanks to ye for this, wizard. The servants, who Proud Parsinkle and Haughty Hartfoul never deign to e'en glance at, they'll be on your side. And don't fret" he winked at Marceau as he propelled the other men out a sudden door, into a small and obscure side-passage within sight of the kitchen's great doors "Death cannot come to this world, but that don't mean it won't be wanted after my bottles. Just wait until feast-time! Good day my brothers" his teeth flashed as he vanished back into the cellars, the door locking behind them "and seek ye out the other serving-masters. You'll want them..."

[Supercape]

"My thanks to you to, my good master of foods and wines!" bowed Rene, warming to the creature despite his initial suspicions. 

 

He sidled up to the King of Suits, and muttered in a voice tinged with excitement. 

 

"So, war it is then?" he asked. "I have not the taste for it myself. On our realm, it is a thing of blood and horrors. Here, however, it may be different. They sing, it seems, a different tune..."

 

He pressed his fingers to his temples, considering what the chef had said. 

 

"Now then, it seems that the various parties here are not under one banner. Well, certainly not the lord and his little pet spider's. I have to say, my friend, much as I abhor war, uprisings have a certain nobility to them. Well, we are French are we not? perhaps a little French liberty to the servants and the crushed here might work in everybody's favour, hmmm? what say you? perhaps we may find some allies in the gutters and the cellars of mighty castles?"

[Ari]

"He took to my suggestion with more...enthusiasm than I expected when I offerred it. This is not a war I like the thought of René, almost as little as the sort we practice on Earth." the towering young man replied, his thin lips pursed and sharp eyes watching the door suspiciously. Leading the way into the mazes of stone halls that honeycomed the fortress he went on thoughtfully "Ah well, we have little choice it seems. If we leave that chef hanging we will have fewer allies when his minions start their havoc, and you are right," he grinned as the two made their way to follow the streams of serving-Fey, Marceau choosing the general current made up of strutting dusters, sinuous brooms and the squat redcaps scrubbing the walls to raucous songs.

 

In a low voice he added between cheerful greetingst to the servants "We are in agreement there my friend. Overthrowing these two plotters might have repercussions we cannot dream of, but it will give the redcaps a taste of true freedom, and perhaps that will be the best we can do here." Clapping the old painter around the shoulders, the costumed detective declared fondly "And I would have nobody else to help me." With a smile, the younger man rapped at the heavy oak door one of the brooms had stepped through, turned the handle and walked into the room.

[Ari]

GM

 

The two entered an at first unassuming brown room filled with conical piles of glittering dust. A willowy and fair woman in fine red clothes like what René had seen once in the court of Poland, with pricked ears and the unearthly eyes of the Fey walked to and fro with an abacus in her arms, watching intently as the swaggering brooms marched past and shoveled their cargo with arrogant flicks into the widening mounds, the dusters showered down the twinkling dust of the castle, or redcaps darted across the floor with incredible speed from other rooms and squeezed out water from their cloths that turned into torrents of sparkling gems. Seeing their approach, she adopted a smile and gave them a quick bow "Greetings, my name is Tasselfoot. What reason would two guests of his Princeship have to visit the humble chamber of a gatherer of dust?" As she spoke, a fly emerged from her hair and went buzzing furiously through the air, finally managing to find the broad doorway and droned off down the hallway. Tasselfoot raised an eyebrow at it when if first appeared, then ignored the insect entirely "Pay it no mind, it must have wandered up from the kitchens" she said lightly with a disarming smile "I have heard foolish things recently, such as that their are traitors to Parsinkle in this very castle, ones who would deny him and Hartfoul their masterful schemes. What do you think of such people, humans? How would you deal with these renegades? The laws against uprisings here in Avalon are strict, are they less so in your world."

 

 

[Supercape]

"One man's uprising is another man's liberation" explained Rene. 

 

The deception of the faerie might best be matched with deceptive honesty!

 

"It all depends which set of eyes one is viewing it from. From the ivory tower?" he asked, his finger elevated to circle the heavens "or the crushed servant?" he asked his finger circling the floor. 

 

He finished by giving an encompassing shrug. 

 

"The laws may apply one day, and not the other. Justice, however, is eternal!" he said, pouring forth some passion into the words. 

 

"So tell me dear Lady Tasselfoot, where are your eyes on the matter? and most lovely eyes they are too!"

[Ari]

GM

 

"My eyes?" Tasselfoot asked, sounding both pleased by and suspicious of the compliment. Tying the abacus to her belt of silk cord, she stepped up to René, closer and closer until she was mere centimeters away and the smell of dust about her was unavoidable, and peered into the wizard's wrinkled face. This close everything about her that so much as whispered 'not human' was impossible to avoid. The expression would have been one of curiosity on anyone else, but a dissonance between the eyes that bored, mouth twisted up, eyebrow raised and cheeks tautened made sure that it failed to portray any whole emotion. It was like if three carvers had been asked to make a single face. At last she stepped back, seemed to smile, and went on.

 

"My eyes are in the tower, watching as the piles grow. My task is dreary, but not difficult, and unlike many in the castles I never suffer the Master's anger. My mothers and fathers long before me did such works as I. We gather the dust to make gold and jewels, turning what your race sees as waste into beauty. But..." she gestured to the brooms, dusters and passing servants "...I hear everything. The gold spun from the dust on the castle walls was made into fine ornaments at the last feast, but not all who deserved to were invited. The silver from the towers made a fine filigree that everyone who saw it praised, but the true artist was not recognized. The Lords go glittering, and their train with them, but what stars shine brightest gain the greater honour. I hear all of this, and from the parapet it is not hard to see. There are crushed servants even in the towers, mage" the serving woman said with a ghostly smile. Glancing at one of the piles that had grown imperceptibly during her talk, she flicked a few beads across the wires.

 

"All this is well known. Yet still it goes on as it has since the castles first bloomed and the forests sang, René de Saens"("and guest" she added kindly to Marceau) "what justice would there be in seeking to overcome an order, a tradition, that we have cleaved to before your race were visited by the so-called "gods" with the gift of law? But the laws...yes, perhaps they might be more like the reed than the oak." Tasselfoot smiled "Let me tell you one law we have: on the fifth day of the 20th month(which is this day) one audience may be granted to any in the castle, and one wish granted. Who would you use that wish for? Yourself? The oppressed?"

 

 

[Supercape]

Rene pondered the question. He sensed a trap, but he also sensed he loved it. Try as he might, he could not help but get spun into the web of wordplay here. 

 

I'm beginning to like it too much here...

 

"One wish? but wishes lead to folly more than fortune, lady Tasselfoot" he smiled. 

 

"Perhaps I would wish it for your Master" he concluded. "I would wish he could see what needs to be seen, rather than what he wants to see. A terrible thing to wish for, but it would serve well. If he could see the life of an oppressed, then what would he do?"

 

"This would be his chance. To live as a servant for one day. He will then reveal himself as a blind but innocent fool, ignorant of his effect, or as a tyrant, uncaring of his actions!"

[Ari]

Obviously there was something about René that the Fey found much more interesting than his comparatively mundane companion, and so Marceau remained more or less silent throughout the first few minutes of the meeting. His cowl was pulled back from his head, and he glanced at each of the two as they spoke, deeply fascinated by the conversation. Of course his fascination was mingled with frustration.

 

Obviously this person wanted to get something out of the two humans, and was laying out a scheme that was bound to work out in her favor simply because of how little her guests knew about this 'Avalon'. That alone made him dislike her. The law she cited and the details offered meant that taking her up on it was obvious, but what else was there to the law? What was the point of having such a stricture if it meant that any  Fey could just march into the Prince's hall, demand everything and be given it? What stood between them and getting what they wanted?

 

This and several more questions besides plagued the lean Frenchman, whose face gradually frowned deeper and turned a sharp blue-eyed glance at his magician friend when the cunning René announced he would simply cast the Prince Parsinkle from his throne, and make him live like a servant. 'God knows I would be heartened if that worked' he thought anxiously 'But these creatures love to trap and trick'. Aloud he said in a calm voice "We will remember that, lady Tasselfoot" he inclined his head slightly to her "But since you have already heard about these rebels, we shall say no more of them except that you could do worse than remember your own slights at the feast tonight."

 

"How do you turn dust into gold or jewels? Who helps you?" he asked with real curiosity.

 

[Ari]

GM

 

"Your kind finds it hard to wish aright, it is true" Tasselfoot said with a grave shake of her head "But would you not say that is the fault of the wisher and not the wish? You may do as you see fit."

 

It was evident that the old painter's choice had cheered her however, and she turned to the costumed adventurer with an ingratiating smile. "Why, I spin it! Spiders are ever carrying the dust away to my spinning room and winding it around the wheel, and at the close of day I choose what this" she tilted her head at one pile in the corner that glittered redly, like the very walls "will become. Some precious stones, some gold, some silver, some copper or brass or platinum or anything else I find pleasing!"

 

Glancing around the bustle at her feet and the stocky creatures hustling across the floor with their sacks or pans she added "I have no helper, true art lies in the singular genius of the artist. You understand this well I hope." she smiled with something like warmth at René.

 

A sudden recollection appeared in her eyes "And...my servants rarely are idle at feasts, indeed they are second only to the cook's minions in number." Tasselfoot grinned with a thin crescent of white. Her teeth were the same as the Redcaps', narrow and pointed.

 

 

[Supercape]

Rene turned to Marceau and conferred with him - in heavy French, hopeful that it would not be heard. He kept his voice down as a precaution. 

 

"<What say you?" he asked. "<Tasselfoot seems to obscure her intent. Perhaps ally, perhaps not. Perhaps worse. A creature of conflict maybe - struck between loyalty and tradition on the one hand, and sense of justice on the other. 'tis difficult enough to predict the which direction points the heart of a fey, but here I fear there is no compass at all!>"

 

He frowned. Tasselfoot had clearly affection, and wisdom even, but who could say what would happen at the Feast?

 

"<I suspect we have influenced as much as we dare. Let us see what comes tonight at the Feast. Have you any other plan or plot before the great banquet?>"

[Ari]

<"That second judgement seems like a good fit"> Marceau replied quietly, looking thoughtfully at the dust piles <"She's quite proud of herself, it might be a little hard for her to actively work alongside Fey she sees as 'beneath' her. I agree, it might be best to keep from pressing too hard. We aren't really plotting anything,after all."> he pointed out with a light smile. At the question of any further plans he might have, the young vigilante glanced over at Tasselfoot and said "We are grateful for your help, and look forward to seeing your helpers at the feast! Now, we shall take our leave, good luck to you lady Tasselfoot!"

 

Leading the way back outside, the lean Frenchman propelled himself and the ancient artist down the hallways, muttering <"No, nothing else. We might have done too much already. You heard what Tasselfoot said? Her minions are everywhere, they will let things slip. I don't think we can do anything else with the servants. As for the feast? Just a few smoke bombs at the doors, some coil cards on the backs of chairs, nothing too complicated!">

 

The King of Suits grinned happily down at René <"I'm terrified this won't work, to be quite honest. Let us see how this turns out!">

[Supercape]

"Smoke bombs? Coil cards?" replied Rene. "You remind me of Sun Tzu!" laughed Rene. 

 

"Before my time, of course, but that didn't stop me having a very pleasant tea with him...don't ask. Sometimes my life has been complicated..." he smirked, eyes twinkling at the thought. 

 

"Very well then" he concluded, fingering his magic paintbrush. "I fear the magic ink of mine, although able to mask us, or conceal us, will not avail us a second time. Our Fey masters are tricky, slippery, and astute..." he sighed. 

 

"Come then, let us feast! If nothing else, I expect good wine and fine delicacies! even if we are here to stop terrible war, even if we are to topple tyrants, then let us do it with full and content stomach!"

[Ari]

GM

 

The feast was sumptuousness embodied, marred a little by utter riot. Massive tables piled with food from the kitchens that darted around as the laughing Fey tried to catch them, pitchers that zipped through the air and dropped hearty dollops of wine on unsuspecting heads, huge fires at either end of the red room and tapestries covering every wall with some fantastic image of pastoral beauty.

 

At the head of the table sat Hartfoul, quiet and brooding. Seated between René and Marceau on the table's side was Parsinkle, cheerfully joining in the chaos of the meal.

 

"Tell me!" he shouted above the din "How have you enjoyed your stay so far? I have a grand surprise for your two to take back. And please," he added gesturing to the table with a slender hand "Do not spare the food and drink!" his red eyes twinkled merrily at that, and a strange ripple passed through the mood of the meal. Both had the feeling of being closely watched, like the Fey expected something.

[Supercape]

Rene was sparing neither food nor drink. 

 

Curse these faerie wines! I feel an otherworldly drunkedness about my head, yet for all the folly I know that brings, the tongue will not deny me that fine grape!

 

"I shall not, your majestigraciousness" he replied, his mouth lolling slightly from merriment. 

 

"'tis a feast beyond compare!" he said with all truthfulness "But tell me, must I mar such gay times with a bleak gift from you? For I fear your surprise will not be a desirable one!"

 

He gave a fierce eye to Parsinkle as he spoke, his face all leather and grey. 

 

"But I suppose you like surprises, oui? Let us see if your temper for such will carry through the night!" he spoke with subtle prophesy. 

[Ari]

For his part Marceau was being much more discriminate about his eating and drinking habits in Faerie. He joined in with the games as they roiled past him, and sang the songs after a few bars had passed and he could follow the tune, but he had made sure not to let any bites of food or mouthfuls of wine past his lips.

 

At the prince's exhortation however, he hastily seized at a platter of roast deer, neatly slicing off a(very small) portion of the beast and dropping it onto his plate along with a tangle of brilliant fruits and a several sheaves of delicate and hearty vegetables that glittered in the ruddy gloom. Setting vigorously into the spread, the lean Frenchman smiled a little gleefully at René's words. He was sure that soon Parsinkle would have the same feeling as one belatedly getting a joke.

 

When he had a mouth mostly free of fairy food, the King of Suits added "If my friend doesn't want the gift, I'll take it! We've been having a wonderful time, your Grace. The rescue of our people, the chance to tour your mighty abode and to see the corners of your world too often ignored is one we won't forget."

 

"Tell me, O prince" he added carefully, watching their host like a hawk "How did you get to be so powerful? Are you the only child your parents have?"

[Ari]

GM

 

The ripple quickly subsided as the King of Suits dug in along with the rest of them, and the cheer of the room quickly smoothed over like a wave in pudding.

 

The fairy prince smiled and tilted his head graciously at René's enthusiasm, every inch the monarch. "You are quite eager to partake of my hospitality, so both of you will have it. Behold!" At that moment, a small procession of robed Fey was making its way among the riot, carrying a slim box on their shoulders.

 

Getting to his feet, Parsinkle marched across the hall, intercepting the group, thanking them and leading the rest of the way up to the table. Tossing open the pine box closer to René, he pulled out a vast length of vivid green silk that danced in the firelight. "For you, wizard of art!" he proclaimed cheerily "It will always bring your eye to the best place to start. And for you, young man" he added, tossing open the one closer to Marceau, retrieving a length of red velvet "This cloth will ever warm you and anyone else placed under it, filling them with vigor!"

 

Turning to the humans the Redcap royal added slyly "There is yet more, and I have a small favor to ask before you go...and the festivities begin, of course." That was followed by a guileless grin.

[Supercape]

Rene studied the cloth carefully. 

 

Beware of Greeks...

 

"Thank you kindly, most noble and resplendent king!" he said, with a seated bow, whilst holding a mug of wine in his hand. 

 

"Green is such a difficult color" he said, to the air in general. "But it does attract ze eye to ze form, does it not? It is quite...vivid..." he explained, his eye weaving in a nauseating manner following the silk. 

 

The last thing I want to bring back to Earth is a gift from a faerie. I struggle to even accept it - but it seems I shall have to play out this game first...

 

"I am sure ze festivities will be quite ze thing. Like all things here, with more than layer, I should suppose!" he said, batting back another ambiguous comment with his only equally ambiguous response. 

[Ari]

Taking the offered fabric with considerable grace and a slight bow, Marceau cheerfully added his own thanks. "A splendid gift, Parsinkle! I can think of a lot of people who this will help" he said as he examined the red cloth with great interest. He didn't even need to lie about that, he knew personally several dozen people who could use a cloth that filled them with warmth and energy.

 

Glancing at René with a broad smile, he nodded as he wound the red cloth around his arm "It's bound to amaze, dear prince. We're quite looking forward to it."

 

He chanced a glance at the nearby walls and chairs. The table had turned out to be strategic gold.

 

 

[Ari]

GM

 

"Many more than one layer, mighty artist" Parsinkle replied with a flash of his chalk-white teeth. With a wave of his hand the robed Fey vanished out the doors, and the prince made to resume his seat, only to pause as the strange Redcap drew the ornate chair forward "I have not answered your question, darkling" he said to Marceau "nor your charge about loving surprises!" this was to René. With a rasp of wood across red sandstone, his chair that was nearly a throne came to rest amid a very abrupt silence. Facing the table piled high with food, the Prince said very softly "I am one of many children, King of Suits, from the red courts of Avalon where(or so it is said) the changelings are. One of the reasons for my crown" he indicated the thin silver band nestled among his tousled hair "is my ability to deal with...surprises." he grinned openly at that.

 

The same moment there came a sudden ruckus and tumult from without, followed by the clash of metal, and the serving-Fey that had just been tramping about with platters, jugs and towers of plates suddenly threw them aside to brandish weapons and fling themselves upon their oppressors! The shrieks, howls, moans and hideous laughs that filled the hall were indescribable,

 

Joining in the brutal merriment that had sprung to life about him with inhuman glee, Parsinkle threw off the long green cape he wore to reveal bloodstained mail and a belted sword, eyes flashing with delight! Drawing the sword he spun around to face the humans, eyes like red moons and a mouth curved into an ivory crescent. "Wizard! Skulker!" he cried "You have taken my gifts of your own will, eaten my meat and accepted my favor! Now you shall pay the price!" he pointed the wicked straight blade at the Frenchmen, pronouncing his sentence with relish that would make the most blood-thirsty blush "You shall fight on my behalf! Either join me in battle against these fools, or you'll be my slaves forevermore!! "

 

Without waiting for their answer he turned and plunged into the fray.

 

 

[Supercape]

"Ze trap unfolds!" cursed Rene, standing up. 

 

"I shall obey, of course!" he said, his face fighting a war between fury at being tricked and laughter at Parsinkles order. 

 

"My old and feeble body shall fight!"

 

With that, he took a few doddering steps to a nearby Fey and flung a fist at one. It had been decades since he had ever struck a blow. Experience in more than a few wars had taught him how to fight, of course. He had a few bar room brawls to add to his curriculum vitae. But the fact was that his body was failing. True, he maintained good health for his apparent age (let along his actual one), but it was no longer fast, strong or supple. He would be an ineffective pugilist. 

 

"Your trap outwits us Parsinkle!" he said to the Fey King. "Is the acceptance of your gifts enough to place your spell on us? what mighty sorcery is this?"