Travere Fairgrounds

Roy walks into the fairground with Vera, dropping off his pie with the judges.

"So, Vera. What do you wanna do? Go on the rides? Look at the animals? Play games? Eat snacks?"

He glances at a sort of water tunnel thing, where people ride on duck-shaped boats. He shivers.

"Er...maybe not the rides."

"Ehh?"

Roy runs after her, trying desperately to keep himself under his umbrella.

"But Vera, what if I lose my umbrella? Or if the ride turns and the light hits new? I'll get burned! And the water rides..."

He shivers, recalling cousin Reynad's explanations and detailed katashiman books.

"Let's not talk about water rides."

"Um...I can try..."

Roy looks doubtfully at the carnival games. It would be nice to be able to win Vera a giant stuffed penguin, but he's not sure if he can...still, it's worth a shot. After all, isn't that what a boyfriend is supposed to do? Win large extravagant stuffed animals for his girlfriend?

"Alright, I'll try the ring toss. I'm good at the ring toss."

He walks up to the booth and hands over a silver coin, receiving a small basket of metal rings. Aiming carefully, he tosses the rings over the necks of the bottles lined up some distance away.

"I used to be really good at this..."

The game reminds him of his childhood, when Uncle Malcolm and Aunt Remy would take him to the fair along with Reynad, Robert, and Ruby. They would always buy him iced lemonade and funnel cakes, and let him play the ring toss game. With time and practice, he'd become quite adept. And, as he learned today, the ring toss skills did not fade with age.

"Look at that, Vera! I got nine out of ten! I won!"

The stand owner hands him a massive stuffed polar bear, standing nearly five feet tall. Roy passes it to Vera, staggering slightly under the massive fluffy bulk.

"Here you go, Vera! Enjoy!"

"Ehh? Me?"

Roy eyes the fried sugary dough hungrily.

"Why do I need to fix my diet? I'm a vampire. Vampires don't get fat, or buff, or taller, or...bearded."

He rubs his face absently.

"We basically stay the same, from what I've read. I eat enough blood sausages to stay healthy, and that's basically all I need. And anyway, you usually eat salads and stuff."

"I dunno if I even can eat healthier, seeing as 'healthy' doesn't mean anything to me anymore."

Roy orders a funnel cake as well, with powdered sugar and chocolate syrup.

"Hmm...it isn't time for the baking competition yet. Maybe we could go look at the quilts or something...or see a show..."

He glances around.

"Oh, I know! Let's go see the chocolate sculptures! My uncle used to make those. Still does, but used to too."

He heads towards a shaded tent, where several chocolatesmiths carefully carve their masterpieces. Unbeknownst to Roy, a suspicious figure has begun eyeing the two.

Roy grins.

"It's not weird! My uncle makes it. I grew up around chocolate. That would be like saying you're obsessed with nature."

He watches as one of the men starts carving the sword.

"Oh, he shouldn't do that. You're supposed to cast the sword separately and attach it. Uncle Renalt taught me that."

Sure enough, the sword breaks. The carver curses and begins carving the hand into a thumbs-up instead.

"It's pretty cool, don't you think? Seeing how they melt the white chocolate and use it to highlight?"

"I am obsessed with nature."

Vera stats matter of factly. She watches the chocolate "smiths" giggling slightly at the term. She had to admit despite hiw silly this was, they were impressive.

"I suppose it is kind of cool."

She finally admit begrudgingly.

The Great Travere Pie Contest has begun! With over two hundred entrants every year, the judges have a very difficult task at hand. They must judge by appearance, texture, smell, composition, and, most importantly, taste. Prizes are given for best crust, best filling, and best overall. Historically, pecan pies have done very well. However, all manner of dessert pies are welcome. Meat pies are not accepted. The judges are all famous food critics from around the world, brought in to taste the finest baking in all of Gauldin. As Roy and Vera (and presumably Maelik The Fellblade) show up, the competition begins. Seven snobby-looking men and women are cut a tiny morsel of each pie that they are to judge. From that tiny bite, they will rate each pie from 1-100 in the aforementioned categories.

As soon as the warning announcement for the pie contest was sounded the gathering cooks would be surprised (if not terrified) to notice that a certain huge monster had suddenly just appeared in their midst with a portable cooking range in hand.

"Finally! Time for some real fun!" he exclaimed before pulling ingredients out from a screaming vortex of fire, quickly bringing to bear all the necessary components. Within moments he had neatly arranged everything in a line on the stove's heat free zone with more than a few strange looking elements sticking out from the more conventional stock.

The demon planned to make for the judges an old family recipe, passed down to himself from himself every few thousand years, something he liked to call 'The Aneurysm.'

It began as always with a washing of his limbs followed by the first basic steps, the creation of the crust. Normally he'd use only the most high quality of ingredients... and this time was no exception! He was a flurry of movement, mixing the fine flour, crystal sugar, a wee bit of salt and cream butter together with iced water and kneading it into consistent doughy goodness. From there he carefully placed it in the tray so as not to tear it and delicately crimped the edge with his surprisingly gentle touch.

As was customary for the expert chef; Maelik was busying his other prehensile limbs with the other portions of the glorious process of pie crafting. The clawed fingers of his wings were hard at work peeling the bizarre looking fruit that adorned his table and his tail was just as occupied with the task of scooping up globs of different jams and with expert precision evenly spreading it in layers atop the fresh dough.

After four or so of the strange looking fruits were peeled Maelik would wash away the jam from his tail and thoroughly clean it, simultaneously blowing a single wisp of his demonic fire into the burner of the stove to preheat it. With that out of the way the former lord as ready to move on with the most crucial step (in his opinion) and conjured up a paper thin knife made out of what could only be described as nightmares given form. Maelik's hands were as steady as stone as he swiftly sliced the fruit into quarter centimeter strips and gingerly layered them on the jams in a stuttered X cross pattern until no jam could be seen through the multi-layered sheet. He would repeat the process, first the jam and then the fruit over and over again until the pie rose just half an inch short of the edges before putting it in his oven.

In the length of time that it took for him to not only begin but also finish his baking just about ten minutes had passed, and Maelik held in his clutches his newest pride and joy.

Made from a combination of cherry, strawberry, and raspberry jams as well as the strange demonic fruit that the demon brought with him (think somewhere between an apple and a blueberry that's the size of a pineapple) Maelik presents, 'THE ANEURYSM!!!"

He added the final touch, an inch thick application of whipped cream before placing his pie baby down on the tasting table with obvious pride. His glowing crimson eyes gleaming with excitement and their inner fire reflecting the giddiness that was mounting within him. He couldn't wait to see the judge's faced and hear their praise!