<hr/><div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/d/d4/Littletimmyandfriends.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>"Little" Timmy<br/><strong>Date:</strong>Time has no meaning at the circus<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Late morning<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Mr Barnum's Circus, standing on the main road just after the entrance.<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Open<br/><hr/>Timmy was just about able to keep his eyes from popping out of his head... but it was a close run thing.<br/><br/>Little Timmy (a nickname that had stuck despite his best attempts to thrash anyone who called him that) may have only been nine years old but he'd fitted a lot into those nine years. And one universal truth he'd come across was that Gomorra was fairly drab, an oppresive sea of grey and brown which settled over the town like a cloak. Every so often someone would try to change that... a soiled dove would wear a flash of red (although Timmy's mother beat him with a long wooden spoon if she ever caught him looking at them) or a storekeeper would put a flash of green on his shopfront but within days the colours would seem to fade and wear, leaving a mere memory of flash and excitement. The best hope of seeing something with some... pizazz... was to hang around Steam Alley and hope something blew up but even those mad nutters seemed to have toned things down recently... there'd been nothing really exciting since Aggy had flown her airship into the sky. And once news of that beast that had ripped people apart had broken Timmy wasn't even allowed out at night any more. Life may be short, cheap and painful in the Fast Country but it could also be somewhat dull and repetitive if you were an eager nine year old.<br/><br/>This... this wasn't.<br/><br/>It felt to Timmy that everyone in Gomorra had made the short journey across the bridge to be here. As the crowd milled around waiting to be allowed in he had seen miners, saloon girls, shopkeepers, prospectors, the rich, the poor... everyone. He scurried between ladies with swishing skirts and dodged back from thugs who tried to backhand him as he bumped into their legs. He'd stood behind a young man and his girl as they walked past the four hulking men who guarded the entrance, watching as the guards divested the man of his pistol and placed it in a separate hut; it appeared there was a no firearm rule at the circus. He'd also seen several more conniving men hide their sidearms about their body... one may not be able to get a proper pistol in but one could find a way to sneak a smaller weapon past these guards.<br/><br/>And then he was in.<br/><br/>There was a main thoroughfare running from the entrance, ending at a vast red and white tent which dominated proceedings. On either side were stalls and tents of every colour the imagination could process. Some were selling things... from pretty beads to potions to items of clothing to food (Timmy could already feel his mouth watering at the smell of roasting chestnuts)... other were games of chance where punters would throw rings or hurl balls or follow as cups were moved around. Small alleys of space split off from the main road, creating a maze of yet more shops and stalls to either side; he saw the richer elements of Gomoran society wander in one direction that was apparently selling the latest fashions, he saw the lonely element wander in another direction following a lady with a rather short dress... although thoughts of the wooden spoon made him quickly avert his eyes. He saw some of the braver element wander in yet another direction, following the calls of a man who said they would see sights that would haunt their minds forever. He saw a group of people marching in order, all dressed up in a uniform, no taller than him but the the appearance of an adult. He saw a rather scary looking gentlemen with his face painted white, a red smile plastered on and clothes that were ragged, colourful and far too big for him.<br/><br/>Timmy saw Mr Barnum's Fantastic Travelling Circus and Freakshow