text: Despite adamant protests from your little head, your big head wins the day, insisting you act responsibly and investigate what that shady character is up to: shenanigans no doubt.
  
  
  “I’m sorry, Bell. I have to take care of something quick.”
  
  
  “Oh, don’t leave me hero.” Bell wraps her arms around, drawing you in tight against her bare bosom.
  
  
  You pull away from her enticing embrace before you change your mind. Now where did that moneylender run off? You don’t see him skulking around Sir Jamison’s tent anymore. Could your eyes have been playing tricks on you? The bad feeling in the pit of your gut says no.
  
  
  Muffled noises are coming from Sir Jamison’s tent. Not wanting to intrude on a living legend in the throes of lovemaking, you ruffle the flap of the tent to announce your presence. “Sir Jamison, are you in there? I noticed a shady character lingering around your tent a moment ago.”
  
  
  The noise inside the tent ceases.
  
  
  Oh, crap. Your dodge sense tingles.
  
  
  You jump aside just in time to avoid incineration via fireball. Within the smoking remains of the tent, the shady moneylender stands poised to attack. Magic crackles in both of his hands. The shady moneylender is a sorcerer, who knew.
  
  
  “I knew you were up to no good,” you say, drawing your sword. “I don’t know what you’re up to, but I’m going to put a stop to it.”
  
  
  “Imbecile, you may have the skills, but you lack the tools to defeat me.”
  
  
  “We’ll just have to see about that!”
  
  
  “Is that really the best line you’ve got?”
  
  
  “I know you are but what am I?”
  
  
  The sorcerer face-palms. “You’re an idiot aren’t you?”
  
  
  “Bring it on, bitch!”
  
  
  Onlookers scurry about to put out the fires the fireball ignited and to get a front row view of what is shaping up to be a good old-fashioned melee on magic standoff.
  
  
  The sorcerer simultaneously hurls a fireball and casts a bolt of lightning. 
  > You double dodge!
  Few living souls can successfully perform a double dodge, but you are a hero damn it. From the moment the unicorn farted, you were destined to accomplish great feats. You have the skill. You have the power. You have… ah, to hell with it. Just get on with it.
  
  
  You avoid the bolt and the fireball, perfectly executing a textbook double dodge. The onlookers cheer and scream approval… except for the ones who got incinerated by the fireball you dodged. The bloodcurdling screams of the not quite dead but still severely burned could wake the dead. Way to not take one for the team, asshole.
  
  
  “Dodge all you want!” cries the sorcerer. “It won’t do you any good in the end. Your pathetic blade can’t kill me.”
  
  
  You’re about to test that theory when a sparkly pulsating glow coming from behind the sorcerer catches your eye. The tantalizing and addicting flash of spectral lights can be only one thing: a magical artifact. The sorcerer must have been trying to steal it from Sir Jamison. If the sorcerer wants them, that must mean they can kill him. Or destroy the kingdom. One or the other.
  
  
  “We’ll see about that,” you shout as you charge ahead.
  
  
  “I’ll humor you, simpleton,” says the sorcerer. “Just try and strike me down. I’ll stand still.”
  
  
  The sorcerer crosses his arms and smirks as you lumber toward him. His evil sneer disappears once you run past him. The magical artifact turns out to be a magic sword and shield combo. It’s on like a donkey’s hard on now.
  
  
  “No, you can’t!”
  
  
  “Sure I can,” you say as you bash and slash him with your magic weaponry. “By the way, if these things can kill you, why did you let me get so close to them?”
  
  
  The world will never know the answer to that question. The sorcerer shrivels up and dies within a cloud of evaporated blood. His death screams awaken some of the recently deceased onlookers, which you swiftly put back in their graves unburied corpse state.
  
  
  Fires rage throughout the fairgrounds and more bodies than you feel like counting litter the ground. Crows and ravens already flock to the feast. It looks like the tournament is going to have to be canceled. Oh well, there is always next year. You turn around and look to see if Bell is still alive and willing for a romp.