Jester's Court

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But does he know about second breakfast?
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Preferred Character Gender
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  2. Primarily Prefer Male
I like most. However, I have found I am most comfortable with Fantasy, Sci-fi, Fandom, and Modern.
The scene opens up just outside a brimstomed castle, in a barely crowded street. The patrons hustle and busle what they can in the marketplace. Drunks starting to crowd their respective taverns. Horses can be heard, pulling carriages up and down the almost plateaued city's levels. Commerce was booming as of late. The people took good care of each other, as did their king. His long reign had made this city a small jewel of the land. Clean buildings, people, water were everywhere in sight. This is why Cerulean loved it so much, as he helped an old man.

"Thank you, Cerulean." said the man. He nodded in response. It was a long time since he had been in Greatfield City.

(ooc: there happy ivy? lolz)
A cloaked man, with a trimmed beard, holding a simple staff wandered in between a tavern and baker. There was a lizard perched on his shoulder, his pointed hat lay folded over to the side, and he looked for all the world as if he'd spent the night in a ditch somewhere. "Greatfield city" he muttered to himself as he pulled a crudely drawn map from beneath his sleeves and stared at it, "what do you think of this place?" he asked quizzically turning his head a little. A passing man looked him up and down "who you talkin' to" old man? It was an odd sight to be sure. A dog, his head turned sideways was staring at the man who had in fact just asked it a question. "Bah, not one much for talkin' eh?" he waved a hand nonchalantly, "well then... we'll see won't we. We'll see what this place is all about". Brushing off the man who asked the question he wandered off down the street.
The fool teased the king, and danced in a circle around the throne. Every one in a while, he'd throw out a tiny insult at a specific noble, or worse, the king himself. But the man just bowed his head and laughed a nice, hearty laugh. When one man walked up, and criticized his jester's mouth, the king responded in turn. "Take the words of a fool, as you would a beggar's threat on the streets. Everything he says is not to be taken seriously, in any situation."

The noble narrowed his eyes, but pursed his lips. "Yes, my king," and he walked away.

The fool stood this time, his lips puckered, and head high, and looked at his king. "No sense of humor," he said blandly. "Not like you, what with your always defending me and all." He also didn't have to stick to formalities the way the others did. 'My king?' Silly.

"That's your job. I bought and paid for you to tell me jokes and make fun of people I don't like," he laughed.
The dragon rider had been flying through the skies for maybe over an hour, when he realized his dragon needed to rest. He was also hungry, that's when the clouds opened up and a castle and a whole city surrounding it appeared. He knew people knew about the dragons and dragon riders. Though he didn't want to cause a scene and just land in the middle of a city. He steered his dragon to the left and into the lands outside the walls. As soon as they landed safely and out of sight he told the dragon, "Stay here, I'll call you when i need you." With that he walked to the front of the walls and into the kingdom, after a brief intermission with the guards up front. They willingly let him enter.

He walked through the town looking for a place for food and rest.
(ooc: i was without internet for a week and I apologise.)

Cerulean had not taking a rest from his walk, for a few hours. He takes his wary feet into the inn.

"The usual?" calls out a high voice. His eyes squint at the almost squeak.

"Yes, Dara. The usual fits well with me." he retorted. The elderly woman started rummaging around, under the counter. Cerulean sat down in a corner. It felt great to rest after the long night and morning. Many people had ran through his small clinic. He could still feel the blood spewing onto his face. Their were wounds that even he had trouble healing. Something was out there that night. He didn't know what it was. It did make him grip his long sword a bit harder.

"Here you go." Dara squeaked, handing him his usual. The meat was well cooked, along with the golden-brown rolls. The potatoes were especially mashed today.

"Thank you, Dara." Cerulean said softly. He handed her a few copper pieces and started to eat.
When the king had taken a break, and dismissed him for a while, he decided it was time for a meal. The local tavern had a lovely old lady who served everyone who entered, and it was the first place to come to his mind when he stepped out of his castle's walls.

"Hail, Dara!" He danced in, and then grabbed the bar's stool, yanking himself up on his hands in a hand stand. "Do you happen to have anything sweet today?" She looked at him, and smiled.

"Here you go, fool." She handed him a sweet bun. "And get down from there. If that chair spins, you're going to fall on the floor, and hurt yourself!" He merely winked at her, then did a flip before he landed on his feet.

"Thank you, ma'am," he said, and then turned to find a table to himself.
He was mid-bite when the jester put on his acrobatic show. Cerulean was rather impressed with the dexterity. His own movements could not even think of matching. In terms of skillset, or anything involving leaving the ground, was not that prominent. Cerulean thought he recognized the jester. After a moment of watching, he returned to his meal.
The dragon rider entered into a cavern, as he saw a harlequin, and many people eating. He looked around for a solitary place to sit. He had walked by the joker and another person. He then sat on a bench in the back of the room. Never take your armor off most importantly your helmet. If they see your face it may end horribly. Only let yourself take it off no others.
Cerulean had watched the armored stranger, curiously. He had never seen him around here before. Wonder sprung up, when thought of why he would not take off his helmet. Was the person quiet? Were they hiding something? Cerulean raised an eyebrow at himself, taking in a last bit of his meal. He decided it was worth a shot. He felt he had to know. Armor clunked as his steps drew him a little closer. His walk was non-threatening.

"Hello there, stranger. That is pretty rare armor you have. The style is not that common around here. Where are you from?" He almost blabbered.

The statements seemed to be fired almost to quickly for Cerulean's liking. He lowered his gaze hoping for a positive answer.

He smirked inside his helmet, "I wouldn't expect this armor to be known around here, because we haven't come this far into this territory just as yet." He raised his head to look at the man. "I would tell you why i'm actually here, but that may have to be another conversation." Though he felt like that he must show this newcomer something to go off of. He put his hand in front of him a quick glimpse would show that there was a dragon emblem on his hand.
"Very well made. Is this the mark of your people?" He asked quizzingly.

This stranger had intrigued him. Never had he been familar with someone like this. He knew dragons exsisted. His knowledge of them was very limited. He took a seat a few feet away from the stranger.
"Yes this is the mark of my people," He nodded. "Not many people are in knowledge of my clans existence. Though now you do, hopefully you won't use it the negative way" He looked at the person through the slit that his helmet had. "I can not tell you why i'm here. Only that im here."
(Sorry I took so long. Real life, Work, Skyrim, and Nanowrimo about murdered my time on the computer.)

The fool watched silently from across the room, and then enjoyed his sweet bun. The tavern was musty, and dim with lighting, and it hurt his eyes when he sat there too long. "Dara! You should throw me another one. If you do, I'll do a little dance for you," he said in a jokingly seductive voice, then leapt on top of the table, doing a spin, and then landing in a straddling split across the tabletop. "There's more where that came from if you throw in a second," he said teasingly.

Dara rolled her eyes, and a few people in the tavern clapped. He bent himself at the waist, still in his split, and bowed to them the best he could. He was surprisingly flexible, and he enjoyed every moment of it.

"You know, as skinny and tall as you are, it's amazing to know you mostly live off of sweets," Dara teased lightly, and then tossed him two more sweet buns. "Those are on the house, honey. You don't have to dance for your food," she winked, and then went back behind the counter.
Cerulean was ignorant, in terms of personal treachery. However, he has seen it in action.

"Well...when you say is also subjective. Personally, I have never had anything against anyone...until they start harming innocents. So as long as that doesn't happen, no one will hear a word from me."

He gets up and puts on his own helmet. Waving, the young cleric goes to the door.

"The king having you clean out the sewers again?" asked Dara.

"Yes ma'am. The undead always like to follow me around. Irony at its finest." Cerulean said, with a laugh.
He watched as the jester danced. He lost interest in that very quickly. The the man got up and walked away. He stood and walked behind the man. "King you say?" He looked at him. "Take me with you, i have information for the king." The he turned and looked at the jester, "I dont know why i'm asking you this, though come with us?" He just had a feeling the jester would be needed.
The fool stopped mid-bite, and looked at the man speaking. He uncrossed his long legs, and then stood. "I suppose I shall," he said in a bored tone. "Always serious business with the king. No random pop in to say 'hello,' or, 'you run the kingdom wonderfully, my liege!' Oy." He took his last bite while standing, and then danced over to the door, peeking at Cerulean and then tapping his chin. "Undead you say? Sounds like a complete nightmare to me."
"I may not be speaking of undead when i say this, but there are many worse things then the undead," He said no emotion in his voice. Not realizing it, but he remembered something that had happened when he was a child. Before he could remember fully his mind pushed it back down before it came into reality.
Cerulean did not turn to face them.

"I suppose, for some, there are worse then the undead. However my concern with them, for now. As for the King, I don't have any type of personal connection with him. So you are better off asking the jester for help. I was contracted to clean, so that is what I will do."

He readies his shield, as footsteps start clunking.

"I can't promise that you will survive, though. I will promise, that is you do, first round is on me."

Cerulean continues to walk, not looking back.
The fool cringed, and waved to Dara before stepping out into the bustling street. The undead seemed a lot less creepy in the day, and he'd witnessed the foul little monsters under the castle before. Once, they'd broken into the dungeons, and terrorized the prisoners, and he'd been forced to go down and count the dead, and broken-into cells. That had been a horrible experience, what with all the prisoner's filth, stench, and the awful wet that seeped in through his cloth, curly shoes.

"You have fun with that," he said dryly, and then turned to the dragon rider. "I suppose I can worm my way with the king in order to get you first in line to speak with him," he said blandly.
He nodded to the jester and followed the man. He could feel his dragons hunger grow, but he has to do his mission first. Then he could feed his mount. If the jester could get him to the king, he might as well prove himself to actually see the king. Help the clean-up, prove self to king. In that exact order. "Jester you do not have to come with us, but meet me back here afterwards, then ill take you up on your offer," he said.
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