The Ballad of Adler Young, Canto 2.5

(Vulpitanian Marshal) Be an Urocyon Littoralis.
(Vulpitanian Marshal) Aside from your very short stature, speak in a French accent.
(Vulpitanian Marshal) Have a habit of sticking your paw into your shirt.

On the way to X location (before or after the Embassy)

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https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/8332.../Relda.jpg

Fixed seems dropbox doesnt like image links

*laughs* Well done.

On the way to X location (before or after the Embassy)

(laughs damnfool head off) Bravo!

(Wise Professor Skunk) Put down that scone with sweet persimmon jam, and explain for us, already, some St. Reynard lore, including the whole thing with pies 'n seltzer.

I agree about getting an explanation, but why does it have to be by the Wise Professor Skunk?
How about by something like:
"The Little Monocled Patriot: A guide to proper political and social behaviour for young Vulpitanian schoolchildren", an illustrated textbook.

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On the way to X location (before or after the Embassy)

Oh you mad, evil genius you.

(Wise Professor Skunk) Put down that scone with sweet persimmon jam, and explain for us, already, some St. Reynard lore, including the whole thing with pies 'n seltzer.

"Hmph! Mwhat makes you fmimk I was eating a scone mwif permsimmon jam? Amd why shoulmd I know amyfming about made-up Vulmpitamian customs?"

The Little Monocled Patriot: A guide to proper political and social behaviour for young Vulpitanian schoolchildren

4 TEH REPUBLIC!!!1!!!!!

Teh Young Monocled Patriot is ready 2 serve!



St. Reynards Day falls on whenever we feel liek selabrating teh aniversity of sum kind of event N teh life of St. Reynard, I guess his Assumption or his Last Buffet or whut-evar. Anyways, hes liek totes teh Patron Saint of Vulpitania. VULPITANIA VINCIT YALL!!! LIEK 4 REALZ LOL!1 Teh seltzer & piez R teh TOTALY HOLLY SACRAMINTS of R semi anual festival. Liek teh St. sez in teh Foxspell According 2 St. Reynard:

Sure and this is me pie, flung for thee. Do this as often as ye hurl it, in remembrance of these, me mighty japes. Begorrah, this is me seltzer, spritzed for thee for the removal of filling an' crumbs. Do this as often as ye pie-fight, in the interest of hygiene.

Its liek a totes ancient tradition & so 4th that piez can has different meaningz. Throw a soft cream pie 4 love, a gooey chess pie 4 teh LOLZ, & a sticky merengue 4 pure H8.

>He's obviously going to inflict some juvenile prank on you, don't fall for it.
The "monk's" name is "Adoy" or something similar.
Robed fox, be completely serious and have no intention to perform any kind of trickery on the vixen. Try to get an honest conversation out of her.
Relda, believe that the robed fox is going to trick you at every opportunity and act accordingly.
>Monk: Your taciturn nature is completely at the odds with the japery of st. Reynard's Day, and being the Head of Festivities understandably chafes you.
>Cold and borring as usual
is that little brook still leaping there?
Relda > Remember what Chesswick said, most Lendra-Cha foxes live else where
Lengra-Cha Fox > Grumble about southern softies and real Lengra-Cha live in the harsh north, hunting with there bare hands
enquire as to whether a butterfly has Reynard nature.

I cringed, expecting the robed fox to throw a pie or squirt me with seltzer, but he simply stared expectantly at me. After an awkward pause, I finally decided to answer his question.

"It's about the same as always, I guess," I hazarded.

"Not been there in a while, have you?" he asked.

"Not in a long time," I admitted, truthfully.

"Live in Lengra-Cha, most Lengra-Cha residents do not," he observed stoically. "Soft they are. Backbone and Persockity Vitality they lack! Stand the cold they cannot!"

"I notice you're not there either," I pointed out.

"What can I say?" he shrugged. "Sucks, Lengra-Cha does. Cold and boring it is. Besides, Emissary of Funtimes I have been appointed. A great burden this is, but at least out of Lengra-Cha it gets me."

"Whatever works for you," I acknowledged. "Remind me exactly what an Emissary of Funtimes' duties are?"

"Know you not?" he looked at me thoughtfully for a moment. "This question answer: Does a butterfly Reynard Nature have?"

I thought about this for a second. Aside from the specific reference to Reynard, this sounded like a Gnostermonger riddle. I didn't know a lot about their philosophy but I had read a little bit about it. I took a chance and postulated: "All things are ham, and Saint Reynard partakes of ham, therefore all things partake of Reynard nature."

(Rahddhis) Smile mysteriously at the counter-question.
(SALV Fauxfox) Smile nervously at the mysterious smile.

"Clever you are," the Emissary smiled at me. "Get better acquainted, we must. Adoyret Sam I am. Just Sam you may call me."

"I am called Relda Fauxfox," I grinned nervously, hoping he wouldn't see through my disguise.

"SALV you forgot to mention," Sam pointed out suavely. "Formal titles, in disdain we both seem to hold."

Lengra-Cha Fox > Hear "HAPPY SAINT REYNARD DAY!" behind you and tilt slightly to the left without looking back and dodge the key lime pie, which instead hits Relda

Suddenly there was a cry of "HAPPY SAINT REYNARD'S DAY!" in the background. Sam ducked calmly to the side, and a key lime pie whizzed past his head - splattering right in my face.

"Seen that coming, you should have," Sam chided me.

(Ominous Clown Horns) Be heard, very VERY close by.
Monk > Recognize "The Honking" to be a warning of worst things to come. Clowns with semi-auto pie cannons! go somewhere else to continue the conversation

While I scooped pie filling out of my eyes, Sam pricked his ears at a sound .. something vaguely like geese honking somewhere in the Embassy, a few rooms away.

"Now serious things are getting," Sam muttered ominously, clutching the large strand of beads slung around his shoulder. "Adjourn somewhere safe, we should."

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(SALV Silverbrush) Produce a pair of seltzer bottles, and be a two-gun mascula.
SALV Chesswick, go get a fresh uniform. Do not realize that it's been tampered with until it's too late.

"Ach du lieber," SALV Chesswick complained. "Zose confounded SALVs haff dusted mine schpare uniform mit der Itchink Powder!"

"Oh Auntie," SALV Silverbrush sighed.

>DUCK AND COVER!!! The embassy is fast becoming a mad house AND a war zone!
>Adler, er- I mean, Fauxfox: Wonder how in the blueblazes the Embassy ever gets anything done.

>Relda: Tell master Adoy (truthfully) that you do not recognize his monastic order. Is it a lecherous one like the Mephitist?
>Sam: Demonstrate the differences to the vixen who has caught your attention.

I like the young monocled patriot!

Sam&Relda > Head towards the chapel, No Hijinks or japes is permitted there. As they approach they can hear singing of "Dance, then, where ever you may be. I am the lord of the japes, said he.."

Chapel > At the end of the chapel there are 3 shrines, each with a statue. On the left Shine is Saint Reynard. In the middle shrine is Fuma (Relda starts getting hot flashes), and the right shrine is ?????

>Can the young monocled patriot tell us about Saint Reynard from long ago?

(Sam) Conduct Fauxfox to your office (?).
(Sam's Office) Be spartan, to the point of being completely bare except for one object.
(Object) Be a plate of green eggs and ham.
(Sam) Invite Fauxfox to empty her mind and contemplate the plate.
(Sam) Meditate, murmuringly softly as to your state of being.
(Ministry of Fun operative, in full uniform) Barge in noisily.
(Sam) Without seeming to break meditation concentration, deal with the MoF operative.
(Fauxfox) Be a mixture of deeply impressed and deeply scared.

>SALV Chesswick: Discard itching-powder laden uniform.
>SALV Chesswick: Discard secondary uniform, which has also become itching-powder laden
>SALV Chesswick: Discard tertiary uniform, if any. Proceed to the baths to rinse the itching-powder off.
>Baths: Contain several other vixens, also rinsing off itching-powder.
>Agent Grainmaster: Observe all this. Compare to an episode of "Jane, the Lowfolk Femme".
>SALV Silverbrush: Sigh in frustration, sit down and read the latest "Young Monocled Patriot".

Just Sam (Seriously, that's his nickname, due to his impartial decision making method), be a practitioner of a rare form of Gnostermongering, centered around the figure of St. Reynard, which is considered apostate to a degree due to it's believe that the teachings of Reynard outweigh the established Vulpitanian doctrine. Believe that Relda might also be a practitioner, and test her.

Strand of beads, have magical properties, known almost exclusively to Gnostermongers.

Relda, somehow manage to pass the test and get initiated into a small secret band of Reynardist Gnostermongers operating in the capitol without the knowledge of most Vulpitanians. Be forced to swear an oath of loyalty to the group on the pain of something hideous. Try to weasel your way out of your situation, only to incur suspicion from the other foxes in the group.

Goose honking, spread throughout most of the embassy. Terrify both SALV Chesswick and SALV Silverbrush.

The two Vulpitanian experts, hear about St. Reynard's day, but be too busy to participate.


I might be wrong, but doesn't the Foxspell sound pretty much exactly like someone we know?

>DUCK AND COVER!!! The embassy is fast becoming a mad house AND a war zone!
>Adler, er- I mean, Fauxfox: Wonder how in the blueblazes the Embassy ever gets anything done.
Sam&Relda > Head towards the chapel, No Hijinks or japes is permitted there.
(Sam) Conduct Fauxfox to your office

"To my sanctuary shrine!" Sam exclaimed. "Permitted there, japes and hijinks are not."

Nimbly dodging pies and water balloons, he led the way through the winding paths of the Embassy. The strange honking sounds continued, but seemed to recede into the distance. We took a detour around a large conference room in which a simultaneous pie fight and pillow fight were taking place.

"How does this Embassy ever manage to get anything done?" I asked, over a cacophonous din of splats and gekkering.

"Fresh from the provinces are you?" Sam rejoindered. "Getting things done, our purpose is not. If it were, then overthrown already the Empire would be. Distract them with silliness we must, while for The Plan's fruition we wait. Ah! Arrived we have!"

He opened a door and gestured urgently for me to enter. I did, and he quickly followed - shutting and locking the door behind him.

"Hey now, just what exactly -" I began nervously.

>Relda: you do not recognize his monastic order. Is it a lecherous one like the Mephitist?
>Sam: Demonstrate the differences to the vixen who has caught your attention.
(Sam's Office) Be spartan, to the point of being completely bare except for one object.
(Object) Be a plate of green eggs and ham.
(Sam) Invite Fauxfox to empty her mind and contemplate the plate.
(Sam) Meditate, murmuringly softly as to your state of being.
a rare form of Gnostermongering, centered around the figure of St. Reynard, which is considered apostate to a degree due to it's believe that the teachings of Reynard outweigh the established Vulpitanian doctrine. Believe that Relda might also be a practitioner, and test her.

Sam walked past me and sat down on the floor in front of a plate which held what appeared to be a pair of unnaturally colored eggs and a succulent slice of juicy ham. The room was eerily silent, and the air was filled with a delicious aroma.

"Like them, would you, on a coach?" Sam chanted monotonously, with his eyes closed. "Like them, would you, boiled or poached?"

"I do not like them, Adoyret Sam," I replied.

"If ham all things are," he intoned, smiling, with his eyes still closed, "then from where come the eggs?"

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tell us about Saint Reynard from long ago
>SALV Chesswick: Discard tertiary uniform, if any. Proceed to the baths to rinse the itching-powder off.
>SALV Silverbrush: Sigh in frustration, sit down and read
honking, spread throughout most of the embassy. Terrify both SALV Chesswick and SALV Silverbrush.
doesn't the Foxspell sound pretty much exactly like someone we know?

Meanwhile, SALV Chesswick itched & wriggled her way to the vixens' bath, where she slipped out of her uniforms and into a soothing pool of warm water. SALV Silverbrush sat on the edge of the pool and read from the Foxspell in honor of Saint Reynard's day.

"Verily I say unto thee, Hudalaleigh; for thou art like unto a foul Tailipo, drunk upon the blood of its slave, himself drunk upon finest Elfhamian brandy. Sure and thou wilt be plucked asunder from the warm bum thou so cozily inhabitest, and wilt be cast -"



Sofia Silverbrush paused in her reading as a clamor of honking echoed through the hallway outside the bath.

"Fuma in Himmel!" SALV Chesswick murmured. "Zey haff sent in der Klowns!"

(Ministry of Fun operative, in full uniform) Barge in noisily.
(Sam) Without seeming to break meditation concentration, deal with the MoF operative.
Strand of beads, have magical properties, known almost exclusively to Gnostermongers.

Suddenly the door burst open, and a ridiculously dressed fox barged in. He wore a polka-dot shirt and striped pants with suspenders. On his feet were a pair of absurdly oversized floppy shoes. He had a strange red ball stuck over his nose, and a bizarrely tiny hat perched atop his head. In his right hand he held a squeezebulb horn, which he honked imperiously.

"Sam the Just!" the intruder barked. "Why do you detain the Marshal's flooz-"



Without opening his eyes - nor even seeming to move - Sam whipped the strand of beads off his shoulder. The beads struck the bizarrely-dressed fox's head with a loud wooden CLACK, and he fell senseless to the floor.

"Told these Klowns not to disturb me here, I have," Sam grumbled. "Tolerate japes and hijinks, I will not."

"How did you ever get to be appointed Emissary of Funtimes?" I asked, agog.

"A long story it is," Sam sighed. "To summarize: Part of The Plan it was. Speaking of which .."

He stood, picked up the plate, and turned away from me. While he rustled mysteriously in the corner of the room, I looked worriedly at the unconscious Klown.

(Fauxfox) Be a mixture of deeply impressed and deeply scared.
Relda, somehow manage to pass the test

"I think that guy might be seriously hurt," I opined.

"Never anything serious they do," Sam scoffed. "Fine in the morning he will be. Now here - for you this is." He held out a small paperboard container similar to the ones used by sidewalk food vendors.

"I would not like them in a box," I insisted, flinching away uneasily. "I would not like them with a fox."

"Definitely the one you are," Sam said with a grin, holding the box out for me to take. "Alice Chetsweeks' discombobulator array this is. The Plan dictates that take it you must. Now hurry you must, for soon more Klowns coming will be!"

>SALV Chesswick: Since your uniforms are loaded with itching powder, wrap a towel around yourself and investigate. Pin your most impressive medal to the towel.

>SALV Fauxfox: Thank Sam sincerely. Assure him you will return when things are less hectic for more philosophy. Depart swiftly, bumping into SALV Chesswick in the hall.

>SALV Chesswick's Towel: Promptly fall off, as this is the funny thing to do.

>SALV Silverbrush: Preserve SALV Chesswick's modesty by any means necessary.

Bath water, be laced with a strong fur remover. All SALVs exposed, be affected.

Klowns, be everywhere. Each one with a different theme and "weapon".

Embassy, be locked for the night. No foxes in or out until morning!

Relda, get caught and be taken to the head klown (the Marshal).

Marshal, be someone Adler has a vague familiarity with. Try exploiting what you know about his weaknesses.

>Turns out everything was indeed part of the plan. .. just not the Vulpitian's Plan. Plans within plans, Pots within Plots, Japes within japes. Oh the elfity !

>Before you depart, ask "how high is a roebuck ?".

>Monk nods gravely, hinting that you know the answer and tus tying a mall plot element from like years ago (and I mean in real life time too) back into the storry.

>Relda: Mingle with the revelries by wearing a ludicrously tall, striped stovepipe hat.
>Vixen in the Hat: Be exactly what the marshal likes.

>Begin ducking and weaving your way through the most epic pie fight in recorded history.

>Somehow word has spread that you're "The One". Try to avoid and/or lose the entourage of fans and worshipers gathering in your wake.

(Fauxfox) Indeed ask "how high is a roebuck?"
(Sam) Answer in a Gnostermonger fashion. Baffle Fauxfox. Amuse yourself.
(Fauxfox) Move rapidly through the Embassy, avoiding both temptations and hurled pastry.
(Sam) Ponder an old "THIS IS DER ENEMY" poster. Chuckle about The Plan working.
(Marshal) Move rapidly through the Embassy, speaking indignantly (in a heavy accent) as to why you are being deprived of your Floozie.
(Marshal) Catch sight of a white-furred Chengra-La vixen. HOT-CHA! Start moving quickly.
(Ministry of Fun operative) Accidentally block the Marshal from intercepting the vixen.
(Embassy Guard) Be skiving in a totally unprofessional manner.
(Fauxfox) Escape the Embassy, even though it's allegedly shut down for the night.
(Marshal) Blow your cool completely at being foiled. Take it out on the operative's kneecaps.
(Fauxfox) When you're clear of the Embassy, consider changing back to Adler-form.
(Fauxfox) Be slightly disturbed at how long it's taking you to consider whether you WANT to change back into Adler-form from Faufox-form.

Sam } hold off the clowns with the power of the god ham. (Knock them out)

Hair remover } not actually remove hair but make it transparent , see through, so not to alert the person it is applied to. Salv chesswick is completely covered it it. Salv silver brush feet are covered. Both are oblivious to what happened.

WHAP!! Now in glorious MMM-Colour!

https://www.furaffinity.net/view/21777657/

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Bath water, be laced with a strong fur remover. All SALVs exposed, be affected.

"Uh-oh, Auntie," SALV Silverbrush exclaimed as she lifted her foot out of the water. "Looks like teh bath has been tampered with!"

Ambassador Chesswick's monocle dropped into the pool with a tiny splash.

>Before you depart, ask "how high is a roebuck ?".
>Monk nods gravely, hinting that you know the answer
(Sam) Answer in a Gnostermonger fashion. Baffle Fauxfox. Amuse yourself.
(Sam) Ponder an old "THIS IS DER ENEMY" poster. Chuckle about The Plan working.

As I tucked the box into my Elfintory and made ready to leave, a strange impulse came over me.

"How high is a roebuck?" I asked.



Sam merely chuckled and pointed to the wall behind him, upon which was tacked a large poster I hadn't noticed earlier. Across the top in bold letters it read "THE ENEMIES." Below this legend was a very unkind caricature of my great-uncle Roland, and standing in front of him, a roebuck who looked vaguely familiar but whom I could not quite recognize.

"That the one you are, now sure I am," Sam smiled. "Together the Plan comes. Vulpitania vincit."

"Uh, Vulpitania vincit," I responded.

Klowns, be everywhere.
Sam } hold off the clowns with the power of the god ham. (Knock them out)

Suddenly a pair of Klowns barged in.

"Sam the Just!" one of the Klowns exclaimed. "You are under strong suspicion of misappropriation of the Republic's resources, namely hindering a floozie from her appointed duties for your own nefarious purposes! How do you answer?"

"Hold them here, I will," Sam declared to me as he turned toward the Klowns and pulled the strand of beads off his shoulder. "SALV Fauxfox, fly you must! Fly!"

>SALV Fauxfox: Thank Sam sincerely. Assure him you will return when things are less hectic for more philosophy. Depart swiftly
>Relda: Mingle with the revelries by wearing a ludicrously tall, striped stovepipe hat.
>Begin ducking and weaving your way through the most epic pie fight in recorded history.
(Fauxfox) Move rapidly through the Embassy, avoiding both temptations and hurled pastry.

"Thank you, Adoyret Sam!" I exclaimed as I leaped away from the Klowns and dashed for the door. "I won't forget this! Perhaps someday we will meet again, and discuss the mystic mysteries of Lengra-Cha!"



I grabbed a ridiculous hat from an unconscious reveler, and placed it on my head in an effort to blend in with the crowds of rowdy foxes running around the Embassy. I raced away from the sound of honking horns. Dame Chitterleigh's dance lessons bore their full fruit as I imagined a minuet in my mind and entered a musical trance. I twisted and dodged and leaped, nimbly avoiding pies and seltzer. I was poised, I was graceful, I was unstoppable. I was a radiant white-furred vision, a veritable Pie Fight Valkyrie from the far North. I spotted an exit at the end of a corridor, and made a beeline toward it.

Embassy, be locked for the night. No foxes in or out until morning!
Relda, get caught and be taken to the head klown (the Marshal).

Two Klowns appeared, seemingly from nowhere, and grabbed my arms.

"Embassy's locked down for Saint Reynard's, sister," one of them said. "Ain't no foxes allowed in or out til morning. I see you got an Escapist badge; well it won't do you no good this time. We gotcha now."

"Yeah," the other one said, around a stubby piece of sausage which he held clenched in his teeth. "Where you goin' in such a hurry anyway? Don't you know you're late for your date with the Marshal, Sweetcheeks? We been lookin' for you for over an hour."

"The Marshal's a very impatient tod," the first Klown explained. "Now come along."

They strong-armed me back down the corridor and up some stairs, around numerous corners to a pair of heavy doors, which they opened and shoved me through.

I could hear the doors shut and lock behind me as I regained my equilibrium and looked around. I was in a long office, lushly carpeted, with Vulpitanian banners hanging on the walls. At the far end of the room, in front of a tall window, was a massive desk with a monocled fox sitting behind it.

"You may approach me, Sweetcheeks," he said.

Marshal, be someone Adler has a vague familiarity with.
>Vixen in the Hat: Be exactly what the marshal likes.
(Marshal) Catch sight of a white-furred Chengra-La vixen. HOT-CHA!

"Hubba hubba!" he added, as I advanced. "What a remarkable exotic Lengra-Cha specimen you are! Such poise! Such grace! What a radiant white-furred vision! That glorious snowy pelt, unsullied by seltzer or pie filling! Why, you must be a veritable Pie Fight Valkyrie from the mystic North. Come, sit down here," he patted the desktop in front of him, "and celebrate Saint Reynard's Day with me, Sweetcheeks."

>So, he likes poise and grace, eh? Be as rude, vulgar, and uncoordinated as possible; try and be so unappealing that he'll be begging you to leave the embassy.

Relda } this going to be tricky but play along so not to blow your cover.

Marshal } call out to bring out the barrel! Bring out the barrel of fun! (booze! Of persoc tor fiz)

Embassy } everyone get drunk

>SALV Chesswick: Do NOT go diving for your missing monocle.

>SALV Fauxfox: Time to crank them there Wiles up to 11.

>Marshal: Give Relda a pass to freely exit the Embassy.

Relda, remember that you're in a high level official's office inside the Vulpitanian embassy. Each one of the walls probably has eyes and ears. Maybe the floor and ceiling as well. Try not to arouse any suspicion.
Marshal Sweetcheeks (or is it "Sweetcheex", like the image title?), look forward to having fun with the new floozy. But first you need some foreplay. How about a game of strip frontgammon to get to know her better?

Relda, play along and try playing some subtle wiles on the Marshal. With some luck (which, thanks to Fuma, you have plenty of), you should be able to deal with him without having to do much floozing and maybe even obtain some information in the process.
After an hour or so, come to the realization that being a floozy can be much harder than you thought.

SALV Chesswick, try leaving the pool without getting any tainted water on the few remaining dry areas on your body. Slip on your monocle in the process and end up going head first below the surface. Emerge looking a bit less... Fluffy... Come to the realization that this Saint Reynard's day has gone too far.
SALV Silverbrush, read more from the Foxspell, including the part about the dangers of using untested water.