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welcometothepenumbra · 5 years ago

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SECOND CITADEL – THE SPORTIVE NYMPHS (PART TWO)

SOUND: RAIN. TRAIN ARRIVES, CREAKS TO A STOP. DOOR CLANKS OPEN.

CONDUCTOR: Ah, good evening, Traveler. And welcome… to The Penumbra.

SOUND: DOOR CLANKS SHUT.

Take your seat, please, take your seat.

MUSIC: STARTS.

The junction lies ahead, so if you’ll allow me just a moment.

SOUND: TRAIN WHISTLE.

We are now passing through the Lake of Tranquility.

SOUND: TRAIN MOVING.

Our next stop?

SOUND: TRAIN BRAKES.

The Sportive Nymphs.

SOUND: DOOR CLANKS OPEN, RAIN.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

SOUND: BIRDS CHIRPING, CROWD MURMURING.

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): Ladies and more ladies. For fifty thousand years, this has been the event that has brought all nymphs together as one. Just today we’ve seen poetry, battle, rivalry, love, and very soon, loss.

Who will rise victorious? Who will free the damsel? And who will lose his life? We’ll find out now, in the final round of… sport!

MUSIC: STARTS.

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): Makes me kinda sad that this is over, Sunny. Game 28,955 has been a hell of a game, a hell of a game.

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): Don’t have time to be sad for too long, Pit, ‘cause remember: we’ll have another exciting round of play ready for the next group of boys to wander through here!

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): Miracles of progress, Sunny; can’t fault ‘em.

SOUND: GALLOPING.

DAMIEN: Remember our plan, Marc: I shall save this damsel, and while the enchantresses are distracted, you will save Sir Angelo and Talfryn.

MARC: That was your plan, actually. I liked mine better.

DAMIEN: Now is not the time…

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): We’re all sad to see it end, but let’s leave these games on a high note. What can we expect for our final round, Pitley?

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): Oh, nothing special… just a briar cagematch!

SUNNY & PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): (CHEERING)

NYMPH CROWD: (CHEERS)

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): Now that’s a treat!

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): Rules are simple: first to free the damsel wins, and the loser’s partner dies a few seconds after; for, uh, reasons I’d say are pretty obvious.

SUNNY, PITLEY & NYMPH CROWD: (LAUGHS)

MARC: You have a bow. It makes way more sense for me to save the damsel and for you to shoot those nymphs!

DAMIEN: Makes sense? You have a horse!

MARC: And how do you figure I use him, huh? Gallop straight through those thorns as long as knives and cut Dampierre to pieces?

DAMIEN: It is our only choice. My arrows will do nothing to creatures even Sir Angelo cannot overpower. Your horse is just a horse. Sir Angelo is responsible for the lives of—

MARC: Just a horse? Just a horse?! Alright, changed my mind, that’s the dumbest thing you’ve said all day.

SOUND: HORSE SNORT.

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): Looks like our athletes have entered the briar cage, Pit. But is it just me, or do they look a little distracted?

DAMIEN: This is still about our bet, isn’t it? You don’t want me to save the damsel because—

MARC: It is not about that! I don’t care! But that’s my brother up there—

DAMIEN: But Sir Angelo is the greatest knight—

MARC: And that makes him worth more than the people he protects? Huh?

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): Don’t care what they’re arguing about, Sunny. Sport waits for no man. (YELLING) Bring! Out! The! Damselllllllllllll!

SOUND: RUSTLING, HEAVY CLUNKS.

ANGELO (FROM MICROPHONE): Marc! Sir Damien! Something’s coming!

MUSIC: ENDS/IS DROWNED OUT BY SFX.

MARC: Alright, well, neither one of us is going to save her if we keep fighting like this, so…

Uh… where is she?

DAMIEN: I cannot see her. This arena is nothing but flat grass and those tall briars. But that noise… it sounds like… a wagon.

MARC: (CALLING) Tal! Do you see what’s in that thing?

TALFRYN (FROM MICROPHONE): I don’t, but…

Damsel…! Why does that sound so familiar?

SOUND: DISTANT DULL BANG. CLUNKING & RUSTLING STOPS.

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): Here she is, ladies: the damsel we’ve all been waiting for is just behind that thicket!

SOUND: DISTANT DULL BANG.

DAMIEN: (CALLING) Talfryn! What are we to prepare ourselves for? What beast attacks this maiden beyond the thorns?

SOUND: DISTANT DULL BANG.

TALFRYN (FROM MICROPHONE): Damsel… damsel…

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): So put your hands together for the star of the hour…

SOUND: DISTANT DULL BANG.

TALFRYN (FROM MICROPHONE): The damsel isn’t a woman, guys! It’s a—

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): Zygoptera phallophaga: the Maneater Damsel!

SOUND: DISTANT DULL BANG.

TALFRYN (FROM MICROPHONE): —damselfly!!!

SOUND: WOOD SPLINTERING.

NYMPH CROWD, SUNNY, & PITLEY: (AWED) The Damsel!

SOUND: HELICOPTER BLADES WHIRRING/INSECT BUZZING.

DAMIEN: A dragonfly the size of a dragon… Saints above!

MARC: Grab on, Damien!

SOUND: UNHOLY BUG-MONSTER SCREECH.

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): Ooooh! She came so close! The game could’ve been over right there, Pit!

SOUND: GALLOPING.

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): Wouldn’t have been the first time that happened. Back in the day that’d be a real heartbreaker, you wait, and wait, and chomp! It’s all over.

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): And she’s got to save that appetite for one of these two snacks up here, ‘cause boy, are they a mouthful!

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): Oh, don’t tempt me, Budkin!

SOUND: DAMSELFLY SCREECH.

MARC: Faster, Dampierre!

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): You know I can’t help myself. But don’t get those feelers in a twist just yet, Pit – you still have to tell us how the briar cagematch plays out!

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): Now, the first thing the crowd’s gonna notice is the view – we’re about a hundred yards away from the action here and yes, that is disappointing, ladies, but it’s for your own safety! The Maneater Damsel is perfectly tame, but once it gets its first taste of flesh it does not stop eating until it dies of a burst belly or about twenty gallons of stinger venom.

(CALLING OFF-MIC) You’ve got the venom this time, right? I said the ven-nom! I don’t want another screw-up like last time, alright, no pig’s gonna save you now, you hear me?

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): (OVERLAPPING WITH THE END OF THE ABOVE) This is probably a good time to remind everyone in the audience of our emergency exit protocol, which will take place immediately after one of the champions severs the chain confining the Damsel to the arena.

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): And then we pick which one’a these two boys gets a ride to safety! Ain’t that right, fellas?

TALFRYN (FROM MICROPHONE): Ohhhhhh…

MARC: Free the Damsel from her chains… you’re kidding me!

DAMIEN: Their wordplay matters no longer. Slow your steed and I shall sever that chain in seconds.

SOUND: STRETCHING. WHINNY.

DAMIEN: Wh– Marc, what are you doing?

MARC: If you break that chain, Princess Bug is going to eat my brother!

DAMIEN: Oh, Saints, it’s true… a civilian to die in the place of a knight? Improper… and yet, Sir Angelo, my friend and rival, I cannot lose—

SOUND: HELICOPTER BLADES WHIR MUCH LOUDER, DAMSEL SCREECH, THEN WHIR BACK TO NORMAL.

MARC: Just shut up and shoot the bug! Shoot the bug!

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): Another divebomb! The Damsel’s picking up speed!

DAMIEN: Saint Damien, your Tranquility, even in the chaos of battle, the thrill of sport—

MARC: Pray later! Bug now!

SOUND: STRETCH.

DAMIEN: Ha!

SOUND: FOUR RAPID SWISH-CLINKS.

Oh dear.

MARC: Dampierre!

SOUND: WHINNY. BLADES WHIR LOUDER, THEN BACK TO NORMAL.

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): Another miss by the Damsel! Look at that horse run, Pit!

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): Oh, I’m lookin’, Sunny. Seems like our athletes just learned their first lesson about the Maneater Damsel: it’s charmed! Immune to metal! It’s an old charm, but a good one – I mean, hell, a thousand years in the cocoon’s got to be worth something, right?

DAMIEN: Charmed!

MARC: Charming.

(CALLING) Tal! You have anything about giant magic thousand-year bugs in that big brain of yours?

TALFRYN (FROM MICROPHONE): No… but I was just thinking that nymph is also another word for an adolescent bug, specifically one that doesn’t go through metamorphosis in the chrysalis or—

ANGELO (FROM MICROPHONE): (STRAINED) This is all very interesting, good Talfryn; but perhaps information more relevant to our current situation—

TALFRYN (FROM MICROPHONE): Uh, uh…

Marc! From up here it looks like the Damsel’s chain doesn’t reach the whole arena! You should be safe over by that big rock at the edge!

MARC: Got it! Damien, try to hold it back!

DAMIEN: With what?!

MARC: Here. Special delivery from Rilla. A couple handfuls should do it.

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): You’re too nice to that one, Pit.

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): What can I say, Sunny? Always was a sucker for a pretty face.

TALFRYN (FROM MICROPHONE): Ugghhhhhhhhhhhh.

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): It’s a compliment, kid. Take it!

SOUND: BLADES WHIR LOUDER, DAMSEL SCREECH, THEN WHIR BACK TO NORMAL.

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): Another divebomb! And the fastest one yet! I can’t see how those two are going to avoid this one!

DAMIEN: My Saint… my Rilla…

(GRUNTS) Protect us!

SOUND: POP, FLAMES WHOOSH. INSECT BUZZING OVERTAKES ALL SOUNDS.

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): Incredible! Sszzzzzir Damien shot a fireball! You ever zzzzzee this before, Pitley?

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): (BUZZING)

TALFRYN (FROM MICROPHONE): She let go! Sir Angelo, she let go of me!

ANGELO (FROM MICROPHONE): S-Saints… a-bo—

TALFRYN (FROM MICROPHONE): Wh— we have to run! We have to—

ANGELO (FROM MICROPHONE): S-S-Saints a-bo… huh! Saints above, man! The woman is bees!

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): ZZZZZZZzzzzzzorry about that, Sunny!

SOUND: BUZZING FADES OUT. BIRDS CHIRPING, CROWD MURMURING IN BACKGROUND.

TALFRYN (FROM MICROPHONE): Oof!

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): I’ve just… it’s like a whole new game out there! I haven’t seen sport this good since Game 28,954, how long ago was that, Sunny?

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): Four days, Pit.

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): Hell of a game! The of-Nakeeshes versus those incredible piggies, never seen a Damsel go so wild, never seen an afterparty get so out of hand, hell I can barely remember the entire week before it—

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): That’s alright, Pit. What a time to be alive!

TALFRYN (FROM MICROPHONE): (YELLING) Sir Marc! The nymphs, they aren’t nice ladies – they’re just swarms of bugs that look like nice ladies, and—

SOUND: SEVERAL QUICK BEEPS.

MARC: (AFTER A PAUSE, CALLING) Sir– Sir Talfryn?!

Tal!!

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

PITLEY: Heyyyyyyyyy Sunny.

SUNNY: Yeah, Pitley?

PITLEY: I missed the last couple seconds’a that, ‘cause someone was yakkin’ away… you mind if we take another look?

SUNNY: Not a problem, Pit.

PITLEY: Rrrrrrrrrrrrrreplay!!

SOUND: TAPE REWINDING. BIRDS CHIRPING, CROWD MURMURING IN BACKGROUND.

PITLEY (MIC ECHOING): …I haven’t seen sport this good since Game 28,954, how long ago was that, Sunny?

SUNNY (MIC ECHOING): Four days, Pit.

PITLEY (MIC ECHOING): Hell of a game! The of-Nakeeshes versus those incredible piggies, never seen a Damsel go so wild, never seen an afterparty get so out of hand, hell I can barely remember the entire week before it—

SUNNY (MIC ECHOING): That’s alright, Pit. What a time to be alive!

TALFRYN (MIC ECHOING): Sir Marc! The nymphs, they aren’t nice ladies, they’re just swarms of bugs that look like nice ladies, and—

SOUND: SEVERAL QUICK BEEPS, MIC ECHO CUTS OUT.

(OFF-MIC) —it looks like they lose their grip when they… when they…

What happened?

PITLEY: They’re the ones playing the sport. We just sit back and watch the drama.

TALFRYN: (YELLING) Sir Marc! You have to— (CHOKING)

SOUND: FABRIC RUSTLING.

PITLEY: Loose lips get hit, kiddo. Remember that.

SUNNY (MIC ECHOING): The Damsel’s getting up, now…

SOUND: DAMSEL SCREECH.

It looks like that hard landing stunned her, but the dirt’s snuffed the fire, at least. And she takes off!

SOUND: DAMSEL SCREECH. BLADES WHIR/INSECT BUZZING, SLIGHTLY MUFFLED.

PITLEY (MIC ECHOING): She looks spooked, Sunny.

SUNNY (MIC ECHOING): With a wake-up call like that, who can blame her? I’m guessing we’re going to see a lot of defensive play from our Damsel now.

TALFRYN: (WHISPERING) Sir Angelo! Sir Angelo, can you hear me?

ANGELO: (STRAINED) Indeed, my good fellow. What troubles your mind this— (COUGHING & CHOKING)

TALFRYN: (WHISPERING) Maybe shorter sentences would help, sir.

ANGELO: (STRAINED) Mmm. Yes.

TALFRYN: (WHISPERING) When the nymphs get excited, they stop being able to hold their solid forms. If we’re going to escape—

ANGELO: (STRAINED) By Saint Ferdinand’s forelock, you’re right! We must strike at precisely the moment our captors grow most— (GAGS)

TALFRYN: Excited.

ANGELO: (STRAINED) Mmm. Yes.

SUNNY (MIC ECHOING): The Damsel’s observing the arena, looking out for any more nasty surprises… only…

Uh, Pit?

PITLEY (MIC ECHOING): Yeah, Sunny?

SUNNY (MIC ECHOING): Where are our athletes?

PITLEY (MIC ECHOING): I, uh… don’t know.

(CLEARS THROAT) Maybe we’ll just up the audio from the arena.

SUNNY (MIC ECHOING): Let’s.

SOUND: DIAL CLICKING.

Athletes! Attention, athletes! You are not allowed outside the field of play!

PITLEY (MIC ECHOING): Rule 467b, subsection twelve: if the competitors refuse to compete in the finals for more than two minutes, then both of their teammates are forfeit! That’s as established in Sport Finals Forty-Nine and confirmed in Two Hundred and Twelve, 1,752, and don’t even get me started on 13,298—

DAMIEN (ECHOING): Take this, scoundrel!

SOUND: TWO QUICK SWISH-CLANKS.

MARC (ECHOING): Ha! Ha!

SUNNY (MIC ECHOING): Incredible! The athletes appear to be… dueling! In the middle of the finals!

TALFRYN: Wh… what…?

MUSIC: STARTS.

MARC (ECHOING): Hey, watch it! You nearly took Dampierre’s head off!

SOUND: HORSE SNORT.

DAMIEN (ECHOING): Sir Angelo’s life is too precious – for both myself and the safety of every human in the Citadel. I cannot allow your brotherly affections to doom our home, Marc.

MARC (ECHOING): And I’m not gonna let you trade my brother for some metallic meathead. Ha!

SOUND: SWISH.

DAMIEN (ECHOING): Whoa!

ANGELO: Sir Damien! Stop this at once! It is a knight’s duty to— (CHOKING)

SUNNY (MIC ECHOING): Look at Marc go with that longsword, Pit! Cutting Sir Damien’s arrows straight out of the air!

PITLEY (MIC ECHOING): Longest sword I’ve ever seen, that’s for sure. Guess it’d have to be, to get past the four-legged one with the nice—

SOUND: DAMSEL SCREECH.

SUNNY (MIC ECHOING): Oh, but it looks like the Damsel’s not going to put up with being ignored much longer! And girl, does she look hungry!

SOUND: BLADES WHIR LOUDER, DAMSEL SCREECH, THEN WHIR BACK TO NORMAL.

PITLEY (MIC ECHOING): Another divebomb! The boys ain’t even lookin’!

SUNNY (MIC ECHOING): Marc goes for Sir Damien’s legs…

SOUND: TWO QUICK SWISHES.

MARC (ECHOING): Ha! Ha!

SUNNY (MIC ECHOING): …and Damien jumps it!

SOUND: STRETCH.

PITLEY (MIC ECHOING): He goes for the counter shot…

SOUND: SWISH-CLINK.

Marc dodges!

SOUND: DAMSEL SCREECH.

SUNNY (MIC ECHOING): An arrow gets the Damsel right in the eye! Amazzzzzzzing!

SOUND: INSECT BUZZING.

PITLEY (MIC ECHOING): ZZzzzzzzz that’zzzz gotta hurt!

SUNNY (MIC ECHOING): Hive never zeen anything like it!

TALFRYN: Sir Angelo! Can you break free?

ANGELO: (STRAINING) Not… quite…

Uh, Saints, Mistress Budkin is quite the professional. Unflappable!

TALFRYN: (STRAINING) And Pitley’s just… strong! (SIGHS)

SUNNY (MIC ECHOING): The charm still holds, and the Damsel is uninjured. But with a retreat that fast, I think anyone can tell she’s spooked!

PITLEY (MIC ECHOING): She’zzzz cautious, I’ll tell you that much. Unlike those crazy boys down there! Look at ‘em! Sir Damien on the offensive now, backing Marc up to the Damsel’s chain!

MARC (ECHOING): You’re not– gonna kill my– brother!

DAMIEN (ECHOING): Nor you… the Citadel’s greatest knight! HA!

SOUND: FOUR RAPID SWISH-CLANKS.

SUNNY (MIC ECHOING): First strike on the chain goes to Sir Damien!

ANGELO: My friend! No!

MARC (ECHOING): (GRUNTS)

SOUND: BLADE SWISH, CLANKS.

PITLEY (MIC ECHOING): Second hit goes to Marc, with the big zzzzwing!

TALFRYN: Sir Marc!

SOUND: DAMSEL SCREECH.

SUNNY (MIC ECHOING): And the Damsel gets ready for another attack!

PITLEY (MIC ECHOING): Those boys had better clear outta there quick!

MARC (ECHOING): You heard the lady, Damien. Clear out.

DAMIEN (ECHOING): And let you cut the chain? Kill my rival? Never.

SOUND: DAMSEL SCREECH. BLADES WHIR LOUDER, THEN BACK TO NORMAL.

SUNNY (MIC ECHOING): She’s coming down! Are thozzze boyzzz really gonna do it?

PITLEY (MIC ECHOING): A zzztandoff at the chain! ZZzzzzzzZZZZZ good azzzzzZZZzzz dead!

MARC (ECHOING): Dampierre! Ride!

DAMIEN (ECHOING): Saint Damien, your Tranquility…

SOUND: DAMSEL SCREECH. INSECT BUZZING FADES IN.

SUNNY (MIC ECHOING): Zzere zzshe comezzzzzzzz!

SOUND: GALLOPING.

PITLEY (MIC ECHOING): (BUZZING)

TALFRYN: Sir Marc!

ANGELO: Sir Damien!

SOUND: CLINK.

MARC (ECHOING): Damien! Now!

DAMIEN (ECHOING): Ha!

SOUND: POP, FLAMES WHOOSH, DAMSEL SCREECH. INSECT BUZZING OVERTAKES EVERYTHING.

DAMIEN (ECHOING): Sir Angelo! Talfryn! You must escape while the nymphs are distracted!

TALFRYN: Sir Angelo, follow me!

SOUND: RUNNING FOOTSTEPS, PANTING.

Sir… Angelo?

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS STOP.

ANGELO: (CHOKING)

SOUND: BUZZING FADES OUT. BIRDS CHIRPING.

SUNNY (MIC ECHOING): Well, nymphs, it looks like the final round of our Twenty-Eight Thousand, Nine Hundred and Ninety-Fifth Sport has come to an end!

DAMIEN (ECHOING): (OVER THE BELOW) Impossible! That was the competitive climax of the century!

MARC (ECHOING): (OVER THE ABOVE) How?! Do you even like this game?!

SUNNY (MIC ECHOING): Pitley’s off pollinating her enthusiasm over hill and dale, but Sunny Budkin’s always here to call it like she sees it. One of the losing competitors has left the podium, and so all athletes have been disqualified! But we nymphs know the most important rule of sport, don’t we?

NYMPH CROWD: (CHANTING) Damsel must eat! Damsel must eat! Damsel must eat!

SUNNY (MIC ECHOING): That’s right! You heard them, Damsel – it’s dinnertime! (WHISTLES)

NYMPH CROWD: (CHEERS)

MARC (ECHOING): She’s bluffing! I never even cut the stupid bug’s chain!

SOUND: DAMSEL SCREECH, METAL CLINKS.

Ooooooookay, I guess it can just bite the chain off, that’s good to know.

DAMIEN (ECHOING): No! Sir Angelo!

SOUND: DIAL CLICKS.

(FADING OUT) Talfryn, you must do something! You must—

SOUND: SEVERAL QUICK BEEPS.

TALFRYN: What? I have to what?!

SUNNY (MIC ECHOING): That’s enough audio from the arena, I think. And wow, Sir Damien is not taking this well! It looks like he’s trying to shoot our Damsel again… but those arrows can’t even leave a scratch.

TALFRYN: No!

Sir Angelo! Come on!

ANGELO: (STRAINED) Friend Talfryn… you mustn’t…

TALFRYN: Come on! We have to—

SOUND: PUNCH.

Oof!

PITLEY: Sidelines interference, boy. You aren’t part of this game anymore.

SOUND: BLADES WHIR.

(GRUNTS)

TALFRYN: Woaaaah—

SOUND: THUD.

Oof!

SUNNY (MIC ECHOING): You’re right on time, Pit.

PITLEY (MIC ECHOING): You thought I was gonna miss the big finale? Gimme a hunk of that hunk.

ANGELO: Ow!

SOUND: DAMSEL SCREECH.

SUNNY (MIC ECHOING): The Damsel’s preparing to charge the podium!

PITLEY (MIC ECHOING): But first she’s gonna have to make it past the briar cage, Sunny, and that’s no eas—

SOUND: WOOD SPLINTERS, DAMSEL SCREECH. BLADE WHIRRING STOPS.

Oh! And it’s broken. Thought that Damsel seemed a little big.

NYMPH CROUD: (CHEERS)

SUNNY (MIC ECHOING): She’s dazed… she’s shaking herself off, and— (LAUGHS) Those two are fighting! Again!

SOUND: BLADES WHIR.

PITLEY (MIC ECHOING): Really screamin’ at each other, looks like!

SUNNY & PITLEY (MIC ECHOING): (LAUGHING)

TALFRYN: (YELLING) Marc! Stop it!

PITLEY (MIC ECHOING): Oh, men. What would we do without ‘em, Sunny?

SUNNY (MIC ECHOING): Watch women kill each other, probably.

PITLEY (MIC ECHOING): Or whoever, am I right?

NYMPH CROWD, SUNNY & PITLEY: (LAUGHING)

PITLEY (MIC ECHOING): Gal oh gal, violence is fun. And don’t even get me started on—

NYMPH CROWD: (GASPS) Ooooooooooh!

PITLEY (MIC ECHOING): Can you beat that!

MUSIC: STARTS.

Marc just slapped Sir Damien straight across the face!

SUNNY (MIC ECHOING): And now he’s riding towards the Damsel! What is he doing?

PITLEY (MIC ECHOING): Got his sword in the air! (LAUGHS) Like that toothpick’s gonna do anything! (CALLING) She’s charmed, kid! You’re done!

SUNNY (MIC ECHOING): He’s reaching for something at his belt now, and—

SOUND: FIREBALL WHOOSH.

TALFRYN: (GASPS) Marc!!!

SOUND: TWO QUICK FIREBALL WHOOSHES.

PITLEY (MIC ECHOING): Crazy idiot’s gonna get himself killed!

SOUND: BLADES WHIR LOUDER, THEN BACK TO NORMAL.

SUNNY (MIC ECHOING): Damsel’s angry… she’s descending… she’s right over him!

PITLEY (MIC ECHOING): Boy’s as good as dead!

TALFRYN: Marc!

SUNNY (MIC ECHOING): Over any second now. Get ready to make yourselves scarce, ladies, because the final seconds of sport are almost here. And…!

SOUND: BIG FIREBALL WHOOSH. YELLS.

PITLEY (MIC ECHOING): Zzzzzzit can’t! It’zzzzzzzzz never…! Zzzzzzzno prezzzzedent!

SOUND: DAMSEL SCREECH.

SUNNY (MIC ECHOING): Ladies and more ladies, for your own safety I have to insist that you immediately evacuate—

SOUND: WOOD SPLINTERING. HEAVY CREAKING, FLAMES WHOOSH.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

SOUND: BIRDS CHIRPING. RUNNING FOOTSTEPS. DISTANT FLAMES CRACKLING.

TALFRYN: (COUGHING) Sir Marc! Sir Marc, where are you?

DAMIEN: Talfryn! There you are! Have you seen Sir Angelo? Or your brother?

TALFRYN: I haven’t! And that Damsel hit the ground really, really hard. And it was on fire! And it blew up the podium, and—

DAMIEN: Yes, well… that certainly does not look good for either of our compatriots, but… well, there isn’t any need to panic…

SOUND: HOOFBEATS APPROACHING.

His horse! Surely your brother’s noble steed will have found him, and—

SOUND: HORSE SNORT.

DAMIEN: (YELPS) Oh dear…

TALFRYN: Dampierre… but where’s Marc?

ANGELO: (DISTANT, FADING IN OVER THE BELOW) Hup hup hup hup hup hup hup hup hup hup hup hup hup hup hup hup

TALFRYN: Sir Damien… do you hear that?

DAMIEN: The beating of my heart! Is it so clear to you, dear Talfryn? That in the name of something so petty as sport the bravest, most cunning, most inventive hero of this land should fall, and also your brother—

SOUND: LEAVES RUSTLING.

ANGELO: Ha ha!

MARC: Whoa, Angie, whoa!

TALFRYN: Sir Marc!

DAMIEN: Sir Angelo!

ANGELO: Indeed, indeed! It was a harrowing adventure, but I, Sir Angelo the Strong, bested at last the iron-handed nymph Sunny Budkin as she—

SOUND: HORSE SNORT.

ANGELO: Mmm. Yes. Ah, I bested the—

SOUND: HORSE SNORT.

MARC: Steed jealousy. Looks like piggy-back time is over, Angelo.

ANGELO: Of course.

SOUND: GRUNT, RUSTLING, BUCKLES CLINKING.

Anyway, as I was saying, the great flaming beast rained down from on high, when suddenly—

TALFRYN: But… how did you two survive? And Sir Marc, how did you kill the Damsel? And Sir Damien, why did you stay behind, and why were you two fighting, and—

DAMIEN: A moment, good Talfryn, and I shall attempt to explain. The beast was on fire because—

MARC: No, you gotta start it right. I let it grab me because—

DAMIEN: You dare tell the poet-knight how to recite verse?

MARC: I do when he recites it like that!

TALFRYN: I just want to know what happened?

ANGELO: And I as well, for I too have a tale to share!

DAMIEN: If only there were some objective means, a quaint device that might allow us to review the events of the past, in motions slower than reality.

MARC: Some way to kind of… replay all of that, instantly.

DAMIEN, MARC, TALFRYN, & ANGELO: (IN UNISON) Huh.

SOUND: TAPE REWINDING. CROWD CHEERING. TWO QUICK SWISH-THUNKS.

DAMIEN: Ha! Ha!

SUNNY: (DISTANT, IN BACKGROUND) And wow, Sir Damien is not taking this well! It looks like he’s trying to shoot our Damsel again… but those arrows can’t even leave a scratch!

MARC: Damien, that isn’t working.

SOUND: STRETCH. SWISH-THUNK.

DAMIEN: Ha!

MARC: Damien!

SOUND: STRETCH. SWISH-THUNK.

DAMIEN: Ha!

MARC: We need another plan!

DAMIEN: Like your last plan? Because that’s gone just swimmingly for Sir Angelo, hasn’t it?

MARC: Yeah, kind of like my last plan, except one that works, alright? Come on! Like lives are on the line!

DAMIEN: (DEEP BREATHS) O Saint Damien, you of gentle breeze and—

MARC: This again?! Really?!

DAMIEN: You asked me to act like this was important! Well, this is how! Now be quiet! Hmph!

SOUND: BLADES WHIR. DAMSEL SCREECH.

I beg of you, o Saint, that you may give me the patience to feel the tides of possibility that surround me, to follow the currents as they flow, to—

MARC: Come on, come on…

DAMIEN: I have it! Marc, I will need you to take this satchel of Rilla’s powder and place it by the wall of our thorny cage. I will shoot it with my arrow, and the resulting impact should cause the cage—

SOUND: DAMSEL SCREECH.

—to ignite! And in fear, the beast will be completely helpless, ready for the slaughter, trapped!

PITLEY: (DISTANT, IN BACKGROUND) But first she’s gonna have to make it past the briar cage, Sunny, and that’s no easy—

SOUND: DAMSEL SCREECH. WOOD SPLINTERS. WHIRRING STOPS, CROWD CHEERS.

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): Oh! And it’s broken. Thought that Damsel seemed a little big.

DAMIEN: Or… well so much for, ahem, trapped.

MARC: But… there’s still something to that plan.

That’s it! It’s perfect, perfect!

DAMIEN: What is?

MARC: Remember that big invention I was talking about?

DAMIEN: You did not invent the net!

MARC: Not that one, the big one! Try and keep up, Damien. It’s huge, Damien, absolutely gonna blow you away! And also there’s one more thing about it, just a little guy, nothin’ special.

DAMIEN: Which is what?

MARC: It didn’t work. At all.

SOUND: DISTANT DAMSEL SCREECH.

Until you came up with that idea. Now I’ve got it!

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): (DISTANT, FADING IN OVER THE ABOVE) She’s dazed… she’s shaking herself off, and— (LAUGHS) Those two are fighting! Again!

SOUND: BLADES WHIR.

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): Really screamin’ at each other, looks like!

SUNNY & PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): (LAUGH)

DAMIEN: But what is it?!

MARC: Suuuuper simple! I’m gonna run after the Damsel through that big hole in the cage, and when I hold my sword straight up in the air, you’ve just gotta shoot it! And there’s only one downside!

DAMIEN: Which is…?

MARC: I’ll probably die! Which you don’t care about, so that means we’re good to go. Alright, so here’s the deal—

DAMIEN: Marc… no.

MARC: Really? You haven’t even heard it yet. Hey, if I die, it’ll be really beautiful. You can probably write, like, half a dozen tunes about it. Eh? Eh?

DAMIEN: No. I will not allow you to go out there planning your own death, Marc. Because Rilla—

MARC: ‘Cause Rilla would be mad at you? Is that it?

DAMIEN: No, I—

MARC: Geez, Damien, seems like the stakes right now are a little higher than—

DAMIEN: It is not because of how Rilla might feel, Marc, though her misery may be my misery. It is because… (SIGHS) She sees something in you. Respects you. And as much as it is a convenient fiction for me to imagine that you’ve manipulated her tender, womanly heart to get there…

…that is not who Rilla is.

MARC: Yeah? And you’re so convinced by that, now? You try to kill me this whole game and suddenly, poof, we’re good?

DAMIEN: I—

There are hidden worlds within each of us, Marc. Worlds we hide out of shame or bravado or… because we don’t even know they exist, yet. It has occurred to me that those without them, those whose desires are truly so simple, so thoughtless as I’ve made yours seem…

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): Oh, men. What would we do without ‘em, Sunny?

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): Watch women kill each other, probably.

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): Or whoever, am I right?

SUNNY & PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): (LAUGH)

NYMPH CROWD: (CHEERS)

DAMIEN: They’re… nothing. Just hunger given form and words, snapping at whatever comes by. If Rilla respects you, then you must not be one of their number. And yet I think both you and I came very, very close to joining them today.

MARC: That’s… really thoughtful, Damien. Kinda beautiful, too.

DAMIEN: Yes; yes, well, I am a poet—

SOUND: SMACK.

Ow!

NYMPH CROWD: (GASPS) Ooooooooooh!

MUSIC: STARTS.

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): Can you beat that! Marc just slapped Sir Damien straight across the face!

DAMIEN: What was– why?!

MARC: Just trying to remind you that you don’t like me, so you won’t feel bad about shooting at me in a minute. Ride, Dampierre!

SOUND: GALLOPING.

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): (IN BACKGROUND) And now he’s riding towards the Damsel! What is he doing?

DAMIEN: Marc, you… you!

MARC: And one other thing! Don’t call me Salamander anymore! Call me Salamander Knight, instead. Because next time you do…

SOUND: BLADE UNSHEATHING.

This is what you’re going to be thinking about!

SOUND: DAMSEL SCREECH.

Dampierre, after that big gross bug!

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): Got his sword in the air! (LAUGHS) Like that toothpick’s gonna do anything! She’s charmed, kid! You’re done!

MARC: Give me some time to prep it, and I’ll turn any toothpick into your worst nightmare, nymph!

(QUIETLY) Alright, we still got a little time while she’s accelerating. Put on the safety gauntlet, check. Apply the firestarter oil, check. Aaand piss off the big man-eating bug. Ha!

SOUND: POP.

NYMPH CROWD: (GASPS)

SOUND: FIREBALL WHOOSH.

MARC: Yeah, you like that?

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): (DISTANT, IN BACKGROUND) Crazy idiot’s gonna get himself killed!

MARC: Ha!

SOUND: POP.

Ha!

SOUND: POP, FLAMES WHOOSHING. BLADES WHIR LOUDER, THEN BACK TO NORMAL.

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): (DISTANT, IN BACKGROUND) Damsel’s angry… she’s descending… she’s right over him!

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): Boy’s as good as dead!

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): (IN BACKGROUND) Over any second now. Get ready to make yourselves scarce, ladies, because the final seconds of sport are almost here. And…!

MARC: (OVER THE ABOVE) She’s coming towards us! Dampierre, get ready! And sword up!

SOUND: BLADE UNSHEATHING.

(CALLING) Come on, Damien, shoot my sword. Shoot it!

SOUND: SWISH-THUNK, CLINK. POP, BIG FIREBALL. DISTANT DAMSEL SCREECH.

Ha ha, yes! Alright, Damsel! Eat my Salamander Sword! (GRUNTS)

SOUND: METAL SCRAPE. DAMSEL SCREECH.

Yes, yes, YES!

SOUND: DAMSEL LONG SCREECH. WOOD SPLINTERING.

Uh-oh. OK, get out of the way, get— (PAINED YELLS)

SOUND: HEAVY CREAKING, FLAMES WHOOSHING. SFX & MUSIC FADE OUT, FOREST AMBIANCE FADES IN.

MARC: So, then I broke my saddle-clasps, and got knocked into the rubble, and screamed a lot, and, basically the point is I’m the hero of the story.

DAMIEN: And?

MARC: And, all that stuff you said about worlds hidden inside people is dumb, because I always said I was the hero and now, look, here I am. Seems like you were just wrong, pretty much.

DAMIEN: Hmph!

TALFRYN: Sir Damien, what a plan! And Sir Marc, I can’t believe… that’s so cool!!!

MARC: Ah, next time I’d rather not have to get shot at to make it work, so, there are a few kinks but… (CHUCKLES) Yeah, it totally was.

TALFRYN: Wow!

DAMIEN: Yes, it’s… very impressive.

And the shot I made was nearly impossible.

ANGELO: Yes, yes, that’s all very exciting. But Sir Angelo, too, had his share of adventure, and now he shall share it! It all began with the creature raining from the sky in flames—

MUSIC: STARTS.

Of all the…?! What now! I am trying to tell a tale, you—

SOUND: BUZZING FADES IN.

Oh, dear.

TALFRYN: Not again!

MARC: That’s impossible! There’s nobody left in there!

SUNNY: BzzzzzZI’ve never heard of a game like this before, Pit.

PITLEY: Zzzzzme neither, Sunny – me neither. It’s a damn shame, you ask me. An insult to sport, letting four cheaters run off scot-free.

SOUND: BUZZING STOPS.

SUNNY: It’s a good thing our rulebook’s so flexible, isn’t it, Pitley?

PITLEY: Only natural, Sunny. Used to be we had to wait for a new Damsel to grow up. Used to be we had to wait a thousand years between games, and if the rules ain’t flexible… well, wouldn’t want a thousand years of waiting to end with four half-wits slipping through a loophole, eh? That’s a mistake you only make once.

SUNNY: So what do you say we make a new rule now, Pitley?

PITLEY: I say I like that idea a lot, Sunny. A whole lot.

DAMIEN: We bested your game, Nymphs! We have thrilled you, entertained you, and danced where you have asked us! Now let us go on our way!

PITLEY: Howsabout this: if all four athletes get caught cheating…

SUNNY: …then we make them play again. From the beginning.

TALFRYN: That’s… a lie! You’re lying! You just said it takes a thousand years for the Maneater Damselfly to mature.

SOUND: BUZZING FADES IN.

ANGELO: The soft one is correct! You have no beast for us to best! And it is improper for a woman to lie!

DAMIEN: Sir Angelo, I do not think we should still be—

ANGELO: And, it is also improper for a man to lie, and for bees to lie! In summary, I would request that everyone stop lying!

PITLEY: You get us started, Sunny. I’ll show them the lie.

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): Lllllladies and more ladies! Nymphs from the palm to the cacao, who tango in the mangroves and salsa in the balsas, welcome… to…

PITLEY: (HISSING) Sunny!! The Chrysalis Cloth! It’s gone. I can’t find it anywhere!

NYMPH CROWD: (GASPS)

MARC: The, uhhh… what?

MUSIC: ENDS.

SUNNY: Where did you put it?

PITLEY: It was– it was– it was in my combs, where I always put it—

SUNNY: You’re sure? You checked?

PITLEY: You’re lookin’ at ‘em right now, Budkin, so where the hell is it?

SUNNY: You lost it?!

PITLEY: I never lose anything! You’ve known me thirty thousand years, have I ever lost anything?

SUNNY: I… I… I-I, I… (BREAKS DOWN SOBBING)

PITLEY: (SOBBING)

SOUND: BUZZING GETS LOUDER.

MARC: Sooo, do we just slip away while they’re distracted, or…?

DAMIEN: It looks as though they may be slipping on their own.

ANGELO: My, that is a… lot of bugs.

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): Ladies and more ladies, tragedy has zzzzzztruck! The Chrysalis Cloth, our treasure which brought uzzzz such joy, which zzzwaddled our damzzzelzz and made them grow zzo-zzo quickly, it’zzz gone!

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): It wazzzZZzz those piggies! Thozzzzzze zzweet-talking piggies, played the bezzt damn zzport I’ve ever zzzeen and we let em have thozze humanzzzz’ bonezz and they zztill szzzzzztolezzzzzzzzz…

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): Our days of weekly zport are at an end!! Gone, our thrillzzz, gone, our livelihood, gone, our reazzon for life!

TALFRYN: It’s… just a game.

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): We’ll zzee you in a thouzzand yearzzz, Nymphzzz! I’m Zunny Budkin…

PITLEY (FROM MICROPHONE): ZzzzzzzzZZzzzzzZZzzz…

SUNNY (FROM MICROPHONE): And zzzzzziss… wazzzzzz… zzzzzport!

SOUND: BUZZING FADES OUT. FOREST AMBIANCE.

DAMIEN: (CLEARS THROAT) Well.

Marc? Talfryn? Will you be joining us on the remainder of our quest?

MARC: Really?

DAMIEN: This is clearly dangerous land. You, Talfryn, understand it better than Sir Angelo and me. And Marc…

With the threats ahead, I think we could use a Salamander Knight of your caliber.

ANGELO: Sir Damien!

MARC: Nope, nope. It’s fine. I think poet-boy finally gets it.

Tal, give them your horse. You’re going to ride on Dampierre with me.

SOUND: HORSE SNORT.

MARC: Yeah, well, we already wasted a lot of time, okay? Rilla’s still out there. We still have to save…

DAMIEN: That doesn’t sound quite as heroic anymore, does it?

MARC: Yeah, there’s definitely already something wrong with that.

ANGELO: Leaves rather a bad taste, I think.

DAMIEN: Come, Sir Angelo. Let us find Talfryn’s steed.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS DEPARTING.

MARC: Day full of surprises, huh, bud?

TALFRYN: Yeah.

MARC: But hey! At least we got to look at some cute ladies all day, right? That’s not so bad, right?

TALFRYN: Rrright.

MARC: Did you like any of them? (NERVOUS CHUCKLE) Well. Let’s go, Dampierre.

MUSIC: STARTS.

TALFRYN: Hey, Marc?

MARC: Yeah, Tal?

TALFRYN: I don’t think I like damsels.

MARC: You… what?

(NERVOUS LAUGH) I’m guessing you don’t mean the bugs?

TALFRYN: No.

MARC: So…

Guys, then?

TALFRYN: No. I don’t like men, or women, or bugs… or anybody. Not that way.

MARC: Huh. No joke? No interest at all?

Sounds… kinda nice, actually.

TALFRYN: I think it’s going to be. Now that you know.

Uh, Marc? Is everything alright?

MARC: What? Oh, y-yeah, of course it is, obviously. I was just thinking that… I mean, I know you better than anybody, and I still didn’t… it’s, just…

Hey, Tal? Can I ask you a favor?

TALFRYN: Of course!

MARC: Keep surprising me, willya? I think… I think it’s good for me.

TALFRYN: Sure, I’ll try, but… I think that’s kind of your responsibility too.

MARC: Huh. Yeah. Yeah, it probably is.

Thanks. Love you, bud.

TALFRYN: I love you too, Marc.

MUSIC: ENDS.

***

SOUND: TRAIN MOVING, MUSIC.

CONDUCTOR: If you’ve enjoyed this tale, please consider donating to The Penumbra on Patreon. Our artists work tirelessly to bring you these stories, and if you have the means, we hope you will support our efforts. Every dollar helps. You can find that page at patreon.com/thepenumbrapodcast. If you support us on Patreon at the $10 level or higher, you’ll receive access to commentary tracks like this one, from actors Kristie Norris and Allison Choat, and co-creator Kevin Vibert:

SOUND: TRAIN STOPS, DOOR SLIDES OPEN, RAIN.

ALLISON: …dominance, obsession with sports, objectifying members of the opposite sex, like I think these are all things that, like, stereotypically in our culture we might say are assigned to the non-female gender. And, Sunny and Pitley get to enjoy them, for… two hours at least.

KRISTIE: It’s also fun that we get to turn the idea of like, uh, preconceived notions of nymphs around as well, because normally nymphs are the highly sexualized beings, that like, mortal men- yeah…

ALLISON: (OVERLAPPING WITH ABOVE) Right, like running from gods and getting turned into trees or whatever…

SOUND: DOOR SLIDES SHUT.

CONDUCTOR: You can also support The Penumbra by liking us on Facebook, following us on Twitter @thepenumbrapod, following us on Tumblr @thepenumbrapodcast, telling your friends about us, telling your friends to tell their friends about us, and especially by rating and reviewing our podcast on iTunes. Every rating, comment, and kind word spreads our stories further and inspires us to keep creating more and better tales to come.

We would like to give special thanks to all who support us on Patreon, but especially to Camille Blanton, Rowan Collins, Garrett M, Jay Iannuzzelli, Karin Z-H, Canteloupe, Fiona Parker, Regan, Ko, Kim Zeugin, Atha Lang, Vron, Charlie Spiegel, Minchowski, and Jaimie Gunter for their incredibly generous contributions per episode. Thank you.

Did you know that The Penumbra has merchandise for sale? It’s true! The Penumbra has partnered with DFTBA to bring you the posters, shirts, and pins your heart desires. Just go to dftba.com and search for The Penumbra Podcast.

This tale, The Sportive Nymphs, was told by the following people: Stefano Perti as Sir Marc, Jason Mellin as Talfryn, Matthew Zahnzinger as Sir Damien, M Sutherland as Sir Angelo, Kristie Norris as Sunny Budkin, and Allison Choat as Pitley.

The Penumbra is created and produced by Sophie Kaner and Kevin Vibert. If you wish to know more about our ever-expanding, infinitely-creative team of artists, musicians, editors, designers, and managers, you can read about them in the show notes of this episode.

I’m afraid this is the end of the line for today, dear Traveler. We hope you will ride with The Penumbra again soon.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

#second citadel

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