He opened his eyes fully at last. That was a terrible idea. Did you know the middle ages were actually extremely colourful? And the renaissance more so? The Festivals were nothing if not an explosion of pomp and splendour. The result was a colourful people, especially the fucking ponies in the audience, dressed in bright colourful clothing, seated in stands awash with colourful pennants and banners and paint on a particularly bright day. One pony near the front row had the most god awful cloak that completed the torture. Had he been sober, it would have been a pleasant, if somewhat garish sight. As it was, it was far too much stimulation for his poor eyes. 'I'll just rest them some more for a moment,' he thought, planting the butt of his glaive in the ground and leaning onto it. 'The world stopped spinning at least... just... a minute...'