The Invincible Imp-Victus
By Asher Tye
The die rolls ... ... ... ... ... ... 17
``We have a WINNER!'' the harengon carny declared as the third dart popped the third balloon in a row. ``A full sweep too. That entitles you to one of the top prizes.''
``Yes!'' Imp declared, pumping a blue arm triumphantly. ``Gimme, gimme, gimme,'' he greedily exclaimed, staring eagerly at the available prizes. The short tiefling quickly selected a bottle of Witchlight Wine, thick tail almost thumping the ground as he took possession with a fanged grin.
``Okay, you won. Again. Can we go now?'' a nearby voice asked with a dry, bored growl. It belonged to a young tabaxi male with lithe features of a lynx and a mane of blue hair. Standing next to him was an older, reddish owlkin with two large ear tufts and wearing a pair of reading glasses and a plain brown robe. Both looked fairly bored, but that was to be expected.
They'd been standing in the same spot for the past hour.
``Maybe it's time to try something else for a bit,'' the owlkin offered.
``Are you kidding? I'm on a total hot streak!'' Imp declared as he carried the stoppered bottle over, placing it in a rather large bag filled with all the other prizes he'd managed to win. ``This is fast becoming the best night of my life. I can't lose!''
``Well, it's been the most boring night of ours,'' the tabaxi, Loo-Kee, lamented
``Yes, we didn't come to this carnival just to watch you win crap,'' the owlkin, Kowl, reminded him, a little less patiently than Loo-Kee. The trio had come to the mythical Witchlight Carnival on a whim, having heard stories of the wonderous festival and finding themselves in the area it would reappear. They'd planned to divide their time amongst the attractions, with Kowl being particularly interested in their advertised singing mermaid, and it had gone well at first. They'd watched the big parade, wandered through the hall of mirrors, with Loo-Kee taking particular delight in one that made him look like a Great Sabrecat, and snagged themselves some funnel cake. It was when they'd gotten to the carnival game the trouble started. Kowl simply had not found the words to compete in the poetry contest, while an errant displacer kitten had snatched Loo-Kee's attention, costing him the staring contest. Imp, however, had managed to land all three rings in the ring toss onto their target, netting him two prizes.
Thus the ``streak'' had begun, with the tiefling moving from booth to booth in an apparent quest to collect as many new toys as possible. At first, since the games were short, the other two had been content to be patient and let their friend have his fun, reasoning he could only stay so long with ten punches to his ticket. Then he'd won a fresh ticket. And another. And another.
``Crap!'' Imp declared indignantly. ``Do you guys not get the opportunity being presented here?'' he asked, digging through his bag to pull out a little wizard puppet. ``All this stuff is branded. When this place leaves tomorrow, no one will be able to get anymore for eight years. I can make a mint on resale.'' Imp's eyes sparkled at the thought, clearly imagining mounds of gold suddenly filling his coffers. Neither Loo-Kee or Kowl were amused.
``Really, how much trouble could he get into on his own if we just left him?'' Loo-Kee asked.
``Do you not remember the whole caviar fiasco?'' Kowl reminded him, causing the tabaxi to roll his eyes in annoyance.
``Okay, so where's the next victim of my unparalleled skill?'' the sorcerous scoundrel asked, rubbing his hands together, oblivious to the others' displeasure.
``Oh give it a rest,'' Loo-Kee hissed at him.
``Don't be jealous just `cause I'm unbeatable.''
```Unbeatable' my tail,'' the tabaxi shot back, jabbing his friend's chest with a clawed finger. ``You're only playing the games you know you can win. If you ask me that makes this whole `streak' thing really wimpy.''
``Wha-''
``He makes a point Imp,'' chirped the owlkin, sounding sagely and academic as he stroked his beaky chin. ``Afterall, how can you say you're unbeatable when you never allow for the opportunity for defeat?''
``It's called being smart.''
``If you say so,'' the tabaxi needled. Imp's nostrils flared, eyes narrowing under his hood.
``What's your game Edeltran?''
``How about a bet?'' the lynx proposed. ``You let US pick the next game. You win, we spend the rest of the night helpin' you `stock up.' Buuuuuut....''
``Should you lose we end this nonsense and go enjoy some rides and shows.'' Imp looked back and forth between his friends. He liked the strategy that was working, but they were challenging his skills.
Plus, he couldn't just pass up a bet.
``Hrm, hrm... Fine!'' he declared. ``Pick your poison. I'll enjoy a laugh when you guys gotta carry all my stuff outta here. Ha ha ha ha ha.'' Loo-Kee started looking up and down the midway, seeking something suitable. Feline eyes widened when he spotted something, a catty grin growing on his face.
``Okay `Mr. Unbeatable.' Try that.'' Owlkin and tiefling looked to where the tabaxi indicated. At the end of the midway, a large, rectangular ring had been set up, illuminated by several lanterns and bordered by some chairs, bleachers, and a small desk. A few humans and a goliath sat upon the bleachers, talking to each other while occasionally glancing at a pair of snarling, growling goblins dancing around each other in the ring. At the desk a gnome reclined with his feet up, a cigar in his mouth as he read a paper, a simple megaphone sitting next to him. Above it all was a big sign that read ``The Witchlight Carnival Proudly Presents: Goblin Wrestling.''
``Uhhh, are you sure that's even a game?''
``Suddenly getting cold feet, are we? Don't tell me daddy bargained up a chicken.''
``A-Hem!'' Kowl warned as Imp fumed at this.
``I'll show you who's chicken,'' the tiefling barked back, tromping over to the ring.
Jimbers Rossler looked up from his paper just in time to notice he was about to have visitors; a tabaxi and maybe an aarakocra being led by a- well, the gnome didn't quit know what was leading them, but he certainly looked determined as he slapped a ticket down on the desk.
``Can I help you gentlemen?'' the gnomish promoter asked.
``Yeah, I'm here to do... whatever this is,'' Imp declared. At his words the two goblins stopped their show, coming to ringside to see what was happening. ``Gimme the rules, or gimme the loot.'' Jimbers blinked a bit at that. Goblin wrestling typically didn't get any customers until later in the evening, usually after more of the carnival goers had gotten sufficiently drunk enough to find the spectacle amusing. Hence why the boys were giving an exhibition match to warm-up. But if this guy wanted to start the party early, so be it.
``Okay then, rules are simple kid. Get in the ring and fight. No magic, no weapons. First to pinfall wins. Got it?''
``Pfft, piece of cake,'' Imp acknowledged, letting himself into the ring, while Loo-Kee and Kowl stayed outside.
``Usually, we have fighters take on two goblins at once. Offers a bit more challenge. But,'' the gnome gave the chubby tiefling an appraising look, ``for you I think we should stick with one.''
``Hey!'' the sorcerer yelled, sensing he'd been insulted. The goblins had moved over to their own corner, talking to each other animatedly. In his corner, Imp bounced around a little, springing on his hooves as he warmed up, when suddenly a pair of hands grabbed the shirt buttons at his waist, unsnapping them. With a single quick motion, shirt and hood were yanked off. The suddenly topless tiefling let out a surprised yelp, wings and arms crossing over his bare chest as he turned to find his clothes in the hands of Loo-Kee.
``Calm down,'' he told the glowering Imp. ``It's a wrestling match. You don't want them tossing you around by your collar.''
``A little warning would be nice,'' Imp hissed, embarrassed at the sudden stripping. That was when Jimbers broke in.
``Hey blue boy. If those wings aren't just for show, special rule for you; no flying. I see you pull off more than a jump you're disqualified. Got it?''
``Yeah, yeah,'' Imp groused, muttering something discrimination against fliers.
``Okay, well if you're ready.'' The gnome grabbed his megaphone. ``Ladies and gentleman, children of all ages. The Witchlight Carnival, in conjunction with GWF Sports Entertainment, is proud to present; GOBLIPALOOZA WRESTLING!!'' At the small creature's announcement, the two goblins in the ring were joined by about half a dozen more, each dressed in colorful trunks and odd accessories, all bellowing, snarling, and flexing their muscles for the crowd, or what little there was of one. ``Yes friends, those well-known bruisers and beaters from parts all over, ready to take on any and all challengers. I am your announcer and officiant for the evening, Jimbers Rossler.''
``First up we have, weighing in at a whopping four stone, MANGLER MURKFOOT!!!'' The assembled goblins left, save a green one with a wild look in his eyes and manacles that appeared to have been chewed on who started slamming his hands on the mat and roaring.
``And in this corner, his challenger...'' the gnome snapped his fingers, trying to prompt a name. Imp blinked for a moment, smiled, then turned and whispered something into Kowl's ear. The old bird looked back at him quizzically.
``You're serious?'' he asked. The tiefling nodded happily causing the owlkin to shake his head in disbelief. ``You're an infant. A plus-sized infant.'' Nevertheless, Kowl hopped over to Rossler, whispering the name in his ear. The gnome seemed skeptical, but Kowl shrugged.
``Okay then, if you say so.'' The megaphone went back to his lips. ``And his challenger, the Mighty IMPVICTUS!!''
``Yeah, yeah!'' Imp cheered; arms raised as he fully expected the crowd to join in. Instead, all he got were bewildered looks. ``Impvictus, get it?'' he called out. ``It's a play on invictus. Like invincible?'' Still nothing. ``Dammit no one gets me,'' he whined.
``We get you; we just don't want you,'' Kowl quipped, earning a chuckle from the onlookers. Groaning, Imp sulkily faced his opponent, only to find that the goblin was sniggering for some reason.
``You fattest kobold I ever see,'' Murkfoot informed him as they sized each other up. Imp blinked in surprise before scowling.
``Not a kobold,'' he growled through gritted teeth.
``Weird orc maybe?'' the bell rang, signaling the match's start.
*** The Dice... Rolls... ... ... ... 10... ... ... ... 13... ***
``I was gonna go easy on ya, pipsqueak, but now get ready for a thrashin','' Imp declared, moving to close with the goblin. He expected to use his superior size, a novelty for the diminutive devil born, to overwhelm his opponent and force him to the mat.
What he wasn't expecting was a long green arm to wrap around his neck while the other slid between his legs. Imp let out an ``oomph'' as Mangler's shoulder hit his stomach, the goblin hefting the sorcerer up into the air like a sack of potatoes. Before he realized what was going on, Imp was spun around and swiftly deposited with his back to the mat with a heavy slam.
``Wai... Wha... Huh?'' was all Imp could muster as a green foot stepped lightly on his belly.
``1... 2... 3!'' The bell rang as Jimbers completed his count. ``Huh, I don't think we've ever had a match go that quickly. A new record!'' The crowd, now including a couple satyrs and an aasimar, laughed at that as Murkfoot stepped off of Imp, moving to leave the ring. ``Well folks, as far as matches go that was certainly... our first one. Now, if anyone else would like to chall-''
``Wait! Hold it!'' Imp bellowed, getting to his knees and scrambling to the ropes. ``I'm not done yet; I'm not done!''
``Uh, yes you are, kid,'' Jimbers pointed out. ``Shoulders on the mat and everything.''
``No, you said I was supposed to get two goblins. Two!'' He held up two fingers for emphasis. ``I paid my money, you punched my ticket, I want my extra goblin. Or... Or I'll complain.'' The gnome stared, grumbling to himself. Management was not likely to find fault with his decision, but an unhappy customer wasn't good for the carnival's atmosphere.
And it wasn't as though they had a line waiting.
``Fine,'' he relented, throwing up his hands. ``You want a second goblin, you got `im.'' Jimbers nodded to one of the wrestlers. Meanwhile, Imp's threat did not go unchallenged.
``Imp you lost, fair and square,'' Loo-Kee reminded his friend in an annoyed voice, offering the tiefling his clothing back. ``You promised we'd go do the rides.''
``We will, we will, but they broke up the match, that means I get another shot,'' Imp explained, trying to sound reasonable. ``Besides, I know what I did wrong. I can still win this.''
``You already lost,'' the tabaxi repeated.
``Details, details.''
``All right ladies and germs. It would seem the challenger-''
``Impvictus!'' Jimbers shook his head.
``Right. It seems `Impvictus' has requested a chance to even the score. While indeed irregular, the GWF is nothing if not accommodating. So, without further ado, the next opponent is...'' The chosen goblin stepped into the ring, this one a huskier build than Murkfoot, a duller green, but with a bright red beard on his chin, with the same hair on his chest and forearms. ``Snotbroat, the SCORCHER!!'' The goblin let out a fearsome belch, launching a stream of fire into the air. Imp could feel his ears droop at that.
``Uh, you said no magic, right?''
``Snotbroat needs no magic for you,'' the goblin retorted.
*** The Dice... Rolls... ... ... ... 11... ... ... ... 15... ***
The bell rang and Imp moved for his target. Last time he'd tried to overwhelm his opponent through size, a mistake. Goblins were always the little guy, of course they knew how to deal with larger opponents. But Imp wasn't normally on the big side either, which meant he knew what angles they could attack from.
This time he went low, aiming to grab the goblin's legs and knock him to the ground. Or at least he would have if Snotbroat had not just sidestepped out of the way.
A single, broad hand slapped down on the back of the lunging tiefling's head, slamming him snout first into the mat. The second hand grabbed hold of the base of Imp's tail, pulling and causing him to flip hooves over head and down on his back. The instant the Scorcher let go, he dropped down onto the challenger elbow first. A loud grunt erupted from Imp as the heavy wrestler landed on his chest, his body folding as the goblin grabbed his leg to pin him.
``1... 2... 3!'' The bell rang again, and this time there was the sound of more laughter from the crowd. ``And that's all she wrote, folks. Snotblout keeps the streak alive at 0-2,'' Jimbers. ``A good effort from the challenger, but in the end he...''
``Nyooo!'' declared a nasally voice as a wheezing Imp pulled himself back up to his feet. ``I'm not done yet, I refuse.'' At this point Kowl was getting annoyed too, and a little embarrassed by this.
``Stop being a brat, Imp,'' the birdman chided. ``You wanted two goblins, you got two goblins, and you lost to two goblins.''
``Don't care! I'm not leaving it like this.'' He pointed to where his ticket still lay on the desk. ``I still got punches; I want another punch!''
``Don't tempt us,'' one of the satyrs quipped, causing others to chuckle. Imp scowled, cheeks burning at having fed them such a straight line.
``Look, maybe this just isn't your sport,'' Jimbers counseled. ``Why not try your luck somewhere else? I think there's a hide and seek game going on that may be more your speed.'' Imp glared at the gnome, or at least hoped he was glaring. He was still kinda dizzy from being flipped.
``I said no.'' Jimbers puffed on his cigar considering his options. He'd be well within his rights to simply call for security and have the obnoxious tiefling removed, but he'd also noticed the crowd had gotten larger again as three elves, another tiefling, and two more satyrs now occupied the benches. Annoying he might have been, Imp was definitely drawing a crowd.
And there still was no line.
``You want it, you got it,'' he said, punching another hole in Imp's ticket and causing the owlkin and tabaxi to slap their heads and groan.
``Ha ha, don't worry guys,'' Imp assured his two friends. ``I'll make this quick. No one's gonna be able to say I'm a pushover.'' The bell rang.
*** The Dice... Rolls... ... ... ... 9... ... ... ... 14... ***
Backbiter Baldwin did not wait for Imp to meet him in the ring, instead charging forward to spear the tiefling with a shoulder, knocking him down. The goblin rolled through with the force, jumping to land on the second rope and using it to springboard into the air, corkscrewing into the air to body slam the blue sorcerer.
``1... 2... 3!''
*** The Dice... Rolls... ... ... ... 7... ... ... ... 14... ***
Imp tried to close with The Demolisher on equal terms, figuring to at least gain a few extra seconds. He even thought to block any attempts by the goblin to lift him up as Murkfoot had.
This did not stop The Demolisher from sliding around the tiefling's side to his back, long arms wrapping around Imp's wide midsection. Wings beat involuntarily as Imp felt his feet leave the mat, pulled over into a supplex with a crash and a loud squeak. The goblin kicked his body back up into a standing position, Imp still in his grip as he performed the move again. And a third time. And a fourth before bridging up his back for the pin.
``1... 2... 3!''
*** The Dice... Rolls... ... ... ... 14... ... ... ... 16... ***
Flyin' Frogwart seemed an easy target, actually running from Imp rather than meet him. For a few brief seconds Imp believed he'd finally gotten a break as he chased after the purplish goblin. Then Frogwart jumped, backflipping over the pursuing challenger.
``Hey, that's not-'' Imp's complaint died as, still running forward, he slammed right into the turnbuckle. Dazed, Imp couldn't defend himself as the goblin grabbed him in a reverse neck breaker, straddling him afterwards for the pin.
``1... 2... 3!''
*** The Dice... Rolls... ... ... ... 6... ... ... ... 17... ***
Imp had a hard time believing Yuckizuna was a goblin as the massive green thing entered the ring, a dour look on his face. For a moment he considered conceding this one, but the chance quickly slipped out of his grasp. Yucki moved fast, very fast, a big hand slapping the tiefling's chest before the other caught him on the chin, the force making him airborne. Before Imp could get too high, Yuckizuna grabbed him by the belt and, with a yell that seemed out of place for someone who didn't have a reason to be angry, threw the sorcerer roughly to the ground. The dazed Imp did try to get up, a mistake on his part as the goblin tossed him into the air again. As Imp fell, Yuckizuna's hand landed on his belly pushing down, adding to the force of the impact.
``1... 2... 3!''
*** The Dice... Rolls... ... ... ... 9... ... ... ... 12... ***
``Ha, got you!'' Imp declared, having captured the older goblin's kicking foot in his arms. They say never discount an old timer in a business dominated by the young, and that was exactly what Imp learned as Armpit Argog hopped up in the air and spun, other foot catching the tiefling in the side of the head and sending him to the ground. Of course, the lesson might have been lost given all Imp could do was enjoy the pretty lights at the moment.
``1... 2...3!''
*** The Dice... Rolls... ... ... ... 11... ... ... ... 15... ***
Warblin' Wormbone was a rarity for a goblin, standing at about five feet and change. He also seemed content to stand in the middle of the ring, something that was just fine by his opponent.
Imp sidled around the tall goblin, looking for some opening, or at least a way to keep himself from getting kicked again. His head was still ringing from the last one. With a quick dash, the tiefling shot around, leaping for Wormbone's back. The goblin turned, catching the sorcerer in his arms and crushing Imp against his chest.
``My, so soft,'' Wormbone declared as Imp felt like his eyes were popping out. With a sudden movement the goblin dropped to one knee, the other staying upright as the deflated Imp was also dropped on it, landing on a rather sensitive area.
``GAK!!'' Imp screamed, face frozen in horror, rigid body falling like a tree as Wormbone let him go. But at least the ringing in his head had stopped.
``1... 2... 3!''
*** The Dice... Rolls... ... ... ... 4... ... ... ... 16... ***
``Will you just give up already?'' Loo-Kee asked his friend as Imp leaned on the ropes in his corner, trying to regain his composure.
``Nah, nah, I'm... I'm getting' my second wind, see,'' the tiefling assured, one of his eyes twitching. ```Sides, whose side are you on?''
``The one that wants to go ride the giant bubbles, like we were going to do when you lost your first match,'' Loo-Kee pointed out. Suddenly, someone behind him tapped his shoulder.
```Scuse me,'' a goblin wearing what looked like a motley and fool's cap said cheerfully. ``Bell has rung, we start now.''
``Wha-?'' The goblin grabbed Imp's flat nose, yanking him towards the center of the ring. Imp's limbs flailed as he tried to keep his balance, ultimately falling into a heap. With a heavy breath, he got to his feet, only to feel something missing as his pants tried to slid down. The goblin stood over by Loo-Kee, a smile on his face and a familiar red strap in his hands. ``My belt! You little thief, you took my belt,'' Imp angrily yelped as he hitched his pants up to keep them from falling. ``Give that back?'' The goblin smiled, making the belt a loop as he cranked the leather strip against itself.
``Oh, don't worry, I give back,'' the creature grinned maliciously. ``I give back plenty times.'' Imp's eyes widened as the goblin leapt for him, turning and running as fast as his legs could carry him. The merry wrestler cackled wildly, belt at the ready as he chased the devilish creature around the ring.
``Ow, Ow, Ow,'' Imp cried out each time the belt struck his plump posterior, much to the amusement of the ever-growing crowd of on-lookers. ``No fair, you said no weapons!''
``This not a weapon, this in-ring equipment,'' the goblin called, releasing the loop and taking the belt to its full length. With expert aim his arm shot forward, the leather strap snagging and wrapping around the fleeing tiefling's ankle, tripping him up. Imp soon found himself rolled over to his back, arms and legs gathered up as the goblin managed to hogtie him with his own belt, standing up triumphantly as Imp struggled to get free.
``1... 2... 3!'' The bell rang. ``Well, ya gotta give it to the man, folks, they don't call him The Putrid Prankster for nothing.'' Jimbers laughingly announced as the ring goblin pumped his fists for the cheering crowd. Imp's limbs fell to the ring when the Prankster released him before tossing the belt over to Loo-Kee. The gnome stared at the gasping tiefling, deciding they'd had enough fun at his expense. After all, the crowd was nice and large now, and there were even a few new challengers queuing up to try their luck in the ring.
``But let's also give a hand to Imp in there. Who can't seem to tell the difference between pluck, determination, or masochism.'' Jimbers picked up the card for the next participant. ``So, for our next match we have-''
``NO!!'' a familiar voice called from the ring, causing everyone to look over and find that once more Imp had clambered to his feet, though very unsteadily this time. The tiefling stumbled over and grabbed hold of the ropes for balance, glaring down at the gnome and his goblins. ``I-I am not done yet!''
``Okay this has been fun, but there are others waiting you know,'' Jimbers said sternly, his mood on all this starting to sour. In the line the other carnival goers, patient up until now, were also voicing their displeasure. Sensing things turning on him, Imp's arms locked around the top rope as his legs did the same to the bottom one.
``What do you think is going to happen here?'' Kowl tried to reason with the youth. ``You're not going to win a prize, that ship sailed half an hour ago.''
``Don't care,'' Imp declared. ``Not leaving without winning one match.'' Kowl grimaced, looking back at the frowning faces of the goblin wrestlers. It was pretty clear they could make Imp leave if they wanted to and that that was fast becoming an option.
``You want us go in there, yank chubby crybaby out?'' Frogwart asked his boss. ``He cool off in river for bit, we get through crowd.'' Jimbers pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn't really want to make a scene of someone getting thrown out of the carnival, but he wasn't being given much choice.
``Hold on boys, I take care of this,'' came a new voice as a new goblin walked up, the group parting in deference for the newcomer. He had a big purple mohawk along with several gold rings in his ear and nostril, and he wore a red jacket with several rhinestones on it. Beyond that he didn't seem particularly noteworthy, being neither heavily muscled or overly lean. In fact, except for the accessories, he seemed the very definition of a standard goblin.
``You sure you wanna do this?'' Jimbers asked the newcomer, who quickly smiled, showing off a golden tooth in his maw as he began to limber up. The gnome nodded and turned back to the ring. ``Congratulations short stack, just call me a genasi, `cuz you get your wish,'' he announced. ``One more match. And I'll even sweeten the deal for ya. No pins, no nothing, all ya gotta do is stay up and going for five,'' he looked over the beaten-up sorcerer, ``let's make that three minutes. You do that, you win. Sound good?'' Imp quickly nodded his head, a bit of a mistake given his condition, but released the ropes to hobble back over to his corner. Meanwhile the new goblin set aside the food he'd been munching on, the reason he hadn't been at ring previously, and hopped up.
``Uh, wait a minute Mr. Rossler,'' Kowl pleaded as the goblins began to organize on their side of the ring. ``Odious behavior aside, I don't want to see him get hurt. If he comes home with broken bones, it'll be my tailfeathers in the fire.''
``Don't worry, Reeker here is a professional. I usually save him for more challenging opponents, but I think your friend has `earned' this. Besides, he knows what he's doing.''
``Yes, but Mallory doesn't,'' the owlkin said worriedly. Meanwhile Loo-Kee too was trying to talk Imp out of what he could only see as a foolish decision.
``You are one big bruise, you idiot,'' he hissed, tail twitching as he debated whether or not he should try to knock out the sorcerer and drag him off. ``They've been tossing you around like a ragdoll the whole night. What makes you think this guy's any different.''
``Three minutes,'' Imp countered. ``That's all I gotta do. Three minutes and then I win. And did you see that guy? After all the freaks they threw at me, he'll be a cakewalk.''
``I don't know.'' Loo-Kee looked at Reeker, a suddenly thumping sound filling his ears as the assembled goblins began to beat their chests in rhythmic fashion as though playing a song.
``Cake... Walk...'' Imp huffily declared as he turned to face his opponent, leaning on the ropes to steady his wobbly body.
In his corner, Reeker nodded to the crowd before opening and casting off his jacket, tossing it to the stands for some lucky fan. As predicted, there wasn't really anything too notable about the goblin's physique compared to the others.
The giant belt around his waist that proclaimed ``GWF Intercontinental Champion'' was another matter entirely.
``Uh-oh,'' Imp muttered as he saw the belt. Even if he wasn't a big follower of the sport, he knew people didn't get belts like that without a reason. Suddenly those three minutes seemed like an awfully long time. Idly he pulled his pants up again, only to feel something small and circular in his pocket rub against his skin. He grinned maliciously as an idea formed on how to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. Quickly he slipped his hand into the pocket.
He hadn't intended to use his ring of spell saving tonight. It had been bought to give him some extra options for getting out of jams, and was expensive as hell to recharge. But like Imp told Loo-Kee, he wasn't going down without a fight. And if no one noticed...
``Ladies and Gentleman, I present to you a treat for the evening in the form of the GWF's current Champion, RIPPER REEKER!!'' A cheer started in the crowd from those who had heard of the goblin, joined by several others sensing they were about to get a grand show. ``Will our plucky little Mal-''
``Impvictus!''
``Yeah, not from what I've seen, kiddo,'' Rossler shot back. ``Will our obstinate little tiefling finally manage to turn his luck around and score a victory? Let's-''
*** The Dice... Rolls... ... ***
``Find-''
*** ... ... ... 1... ... ... ... ***
``Out!!''
*** ... ... ... 20***
The bell rang, and Imp concentrated, calling out his supernatural connection to the Shadowfell to allow him to manipulate the rules on magic. From the ring on his finger, he brought forth one of the stored spells; Grease. Unnoticed the frictional coefficient of the area around Reeker was reduced to zero, rendering it a slippery hazard. Reeker simply leaned on the ropes, waiting for Imp to make the first move, much to Imp's annoyance.
Dropping to all fours, Imp scrambled forward on hands and feet, his wings spreading to maintain his balance. Or so he would say, as he bounded off the mat, gliding through the air in an effort to slam into Reeker and hopefully knock him out of the ring. Reeker finally did move, pushing forward to meet the tiefling midway on a collision course, much to Imp's delight. Even if the goblin had managed to keep his footing on the enchanted mat, the impact would drive him off balance make him easy prey.
Reeker suddenly fell to his knees, leaning backwards as he began to rockstar slide right under the airborne Imp. Green hands reached up and grabbed hold of Imp's pantlegs. Bereft of his belt, Imp could feel it as momentum caused him to come sliding out of the garment and he hastily bent to try to catch his waistband. This was not a wise move as what had once been a full forward flight path devolved into a downward one, helped further when Reeker sharply whipped his arms, the pants, and Imp's legs, causing the tiefling to tumble through the air.
Laughter erupted from the crowd, the line, and even the other goblins as Imp ended up tangled upside down in the ring ropes wearing only a pair of gray undies dappled with cartoonish red bats, a dazed look on his face.
``Uh-oh, I think you lose these,'' Reeker said, holding up the shorts and waving them around like a flag. Cheeks flushed red as Imp's senses returned and he began to squirm about to disentangle himself, falling to the ground as he did so in a heap. Angrily he clawed his way back into the ring, charging forward in an attempt to reclaim his trousers. Reeker pirouetted like a matador, twisting the pants up in a rat tail before snapping the end at Imp's exposed backside.
``Yewouch!'' Imp yelped, stumbling and sliding to the edge of the mat, much to the audience's amusement and laughter. ``I'll-I'll give you something to laugh at,'' Imp growled, using the ropes to climb back to his feet. Reeker stood still, curious as to what the tiefling might try. Croaking out a warcry, or at what was intended to be one, Imp pushed off the ropes, wings unfurling as he flew right at Reeker, grabbing the goblin and swooping up into the air. ``Let's see how you like getting dropped on your head!'' At ten feet Imp twisted, getting ready to dive down and slam his opponent into the ground, oblivious to the booing he was getting for his obvious cheating.
Or Reeker pulling his own legs up as Imp turned down, wrapping his legs around the tiefling's head. Suddenly trapped, what should have become a smooth dive became a stuttering descent as Imp tried to extricate himself. With some leverage now Reeker pulled his arms loose from Imp's grip, grabbing hold of his legs and pulling him into a pile driver.
``Now we play game,'' the goblin glibly told the panicking tiefling, ``Heads I win, tails you lose.'' There was a loud thud as the two impacted, Imp falling over like a ragdoll when Reeker released him. At this point the sorcerer was in no condition to continue, babbling incoherently as his vision swam about. The champion rolled his eyes, dropping down and actually reclining on the former Impvictus as though he was an overstuffed pillow.
``1... 2... 3!'' Imp let out a groan as Reeker got off of him but didn't move. ``Well friends, I'd say that's par for the course here, but,'' Jimbers held up his little stopwatch, ``as it turns out, our plucky little contender DID manage to survive the full three minutes. Let's give him a hand folks.'' The audience, the goblins, even a few of the carnies passing by began clap with enthusiastic sarcasm as Reeker grabbed hold of a blue arm and pulled the delirious Imp into a sitting position. Once that was done, the goblin gathered up his opponent, carrying him over to the ring edge and handing off to the others. ``Now then, with our little gauntlet done, let's see who's next on the mat, shall we?''
Loo-Kee and Kowl watched as goblins carried away their unconscious comrade, sharing a concerned glance with one another before following after.
``OOO!'' Loo-Kee declared, slapping his knees as he watched six kobold tumblers getting rapidly tossed in the air by a pair of goliath jugglers. A nearby fire genasi wove a bit of magic, controlling some flames to create different shapes and forms for the kobolds to bend and twist through while in the air.
It had been a little over an hour since they'd left the goblin wrestling ring, devoting the time to attending a concert put on by a mermaid, sailing with some particularly talkative swans, and riding giant dragonflies, as well as a few other events and distractions. They were now in the Big Top, enjoying a few of the acts being put on. Or at least trying to.
``Mrph-mrm-mrphle,'' Imp grumped as he sat on the bench.
``You really should try to lighten up,'' the tabaxi counseled the sulking sorcerer. ``Things could have gone much worse with what you tried to pull.'' All this got was a glare.
The goblins had not been happy Imp had cheated during the final match, unanimously deciding he'd needed to be punished. As Loo-Kee and Kowl had made it back to the employees' area, they'd found Imp being stuffed into a pink leotard covered with purple spots that was a size too small for him. A pair of mitts and booties had been slipped onto his hands and feet, strings employed to keep them from being pulled off, while someone had found a bonnet to tie over his head. The crowner had been the makeshift bib tied to his chest, on which had been written ``Carnival Cheater Baby'' in prominent bold script.
Imp was not a happy camper when he'd finally regained his senses, launching into a string of expletives in both common and infernal until someone had jammed a candied apple into his mouth. The prize for having won his final match.
``You're lucky,'' Loo-Kee continued. ``If Kowl and I hadn't been able to talk them out of it, you'd be stuck over by the ticket booths as a warning to others. This way you still get to enjoy the carnival while''
``Mmmrm mrph mrm-mrm-mrm,'' Imp angrily responded, mitten covered hands animatedly pointing at the round red treat still wedged in his jaws.
``We're not removing that until you can start talking in a civilized manner,'' Kowl said, unfazed by the tiefling's tantrum.
``MRPH-MRM-MRPH-MRPH!!''
``Do you really think your mother would appreciate that language?'' he asked. Almost immediately Imp squeaked and shrank down in his seat. Defeated Imp began to slouch and watch the show, only to suddenly find the owlkin's arm reach around and pull him into a sidelong hug. ``Buck up. It's only until the end of the evening, you know. Then you have eight years to live this down.''
Rolling his eyes Imp just groaned, settling in to try to enjoy the show.
