The Ballad of Adler Young, Canto 2.5

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Adler: How are you able to remember things in this story you where not present for?

"Some of it I found out about later, and some of it is conjecture based on the way events transpired."

As we approached the front of the line, I observed that each contestant had to step up onto a platform and dodge a barrage of pies thrown at them from all directions for approximately three minutes.

The portly vixen in front of Izzy took the stage. The bell rang and the pies started flying.

Rotund Vixen, be surprisingly nimble for someone of your body type, but prove to be far too big of a target to go far.
>Chubby cosplayer (during Pie dodging contest): Your technique isn't dodging

She did surprisingly well, considering her mass. Great-Uncle Roland would never have been able to move like that! But, unfortunately she provided too large a target to defend from every attack, and she lost several points when a couple of well-aimed custard pies managed to land on her fur.

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Maenwhile, in GHQ:

>Avogadro: Rush to begin your search with more desperate gusto than dignity would normally allow.
Avogadro, finally be excused.

"Very well, Sergeant, you are dismissed," Theronmyathus croaked.

Before the words had ceased reverberating, the mole was gone.

"Dude," Earl remarked. "That guy is like, way tense."

"I'm next," Izzy exclaimed as the con staff swept pie debris off the stage. "Wish me luck!"

Izzy, put all your years of frolic practice to good use. Ace the event without breaking a sweat while making it look like a ballet performance.
(Izzy) Finish first in the contest, but be disqualified because of some arcane rule

The bell rang and a hush fell over the crowd as Izzy spun and twisted, effortlessly dodging the onslaught of pies with the consummate ease and grace of a longtime Frolic Club member. When it was over, he stood unblemished and not even breathing hard. The crowd went wild.

"Best performance we've seen yet," one of the judges called out after the applause died down. "But I'm afraid we must deduct points on account of you not being a femme."

"That's discrimination!" Izzy protested.

"The rules state that contestants must make a serious attempt at disguising themselves to look like SALV Kraekenhoepfer," the judge retorted. "At least put on a wig or something."

Izzy stomped off the stage, muttering something about unfairness and what did you expect from Unseelie judges.

"Let me go next," Fifi blurted as she cut in front of me and ran up to the stage.

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Meanwhile, in the woods nearby:

Scuti Preston, remain in your jar for what seems like a long time. Eventually be found by a curious passer-by just before running out of air.
(Ignorant and Uncouth Peasant) Come to the realization that you only rented that beer.
(Ignorant and Uncouth Peasant) Just in time - lucky you! -- you find a jar.
An extremely weak and uncoordinated elf: Run into the tree and notice a jar. Immediately grab the jar and open it

"All right!" Jimmy the Bard exclaimed as he pulled Scuti Preston out of its jar. "Today must be my lucky day! Good thing all the porta-garderobes were occupied. If I hadn't stumbled out here to take a leak, I never would have found this sweet fake Irenaeus tail! I wonder why it was left out here in this hollow tree? Oh well, finders keepers! This will go great with my act!"

"Time to see a real vixen do this!" Fifi declared loudly. She put her hands on her hips and began to sing, "I wanna be pied by you, and only you .. boop boop-a-splat."

"DISQUALIFIED," the judges barked. "Using Wiles is against the rules."

Fifi lost so spectacularly in last place, she actually gets an anti-prize.
Fifi, be disappointed
>Fifi (during Pie dodging contest): Get disqualified for attempting to use wiles on the judges.

"WHAAAAT?" Fifi gekkered incredulously. "Since when?"

"Since this year. Didn't you read the convention bylaws?"

"No way, that's totally bogus," Fifi protested.

"Yes way. Now clear the stage and bring on the next contestant."

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>Chanson du Percy: Relate how your writer got into the city.

Fifi stomped off, snarling under her breath, and I nervously mounted the contest stage.

I had dodged pies before, at the Embassy on Saint Reynard's Day. That time, I had worn a tight-fitting uniform and a tall silly hat which encumbered me. Now I was dressed in a manner allowing full freedom of movement. This should be a breeze. I rolled my shoulders and cracked my neck, then took a deep breath. The bell rang.

Relda, do rather well. Relda, hate to admit it, but do enjoy yourself.
>Relda (during Pie dodging contest): Don't forget you've done this before during St Reynard's Day no less. This is a cake walk!

The world seemed to go silent as the pies floated toward me in slow motion. I imagined a light minuet played on lute & shawm, as Dame Chitterleigh's dance instructions drifted through my mind. I easily sidestepped one pie, pirouetted away from another, and leaped ever so gently over a third. Despite the absurdity of the situation, I began to feel a rush of euphoria.

"More pies!" I laughed as I ducked and spun. "This is way too easy!"