"Crabs? That's the stupidest thing I ever--" The scowling farmer followed Melita's gesture and his eyes widened as the rising sun illuminated the slowly approaching tide of shelled bodies and snapping pincers. "...Crabs." He repeated, dumbfounded enough that he only flinched a little when Remi krakened up nearby. The horse was far more survival oriented and snorted, lunging against its harness and jerking the cart into motion as it headed towards the first alley it could see. Luckily it happened to be one that Mel had indicated in her wave, even if the farmer was doing more swearing than steering. The wheels of the cart crushed several of the crabby vanguard on its way across main street, but it was safely off the road by the time the main force arrived.
Remi in his kraken form was a terrifying enough sight that most people would have avoided him by fleeing in panic if they weren't at least somewhat used to their former Governor's quirks. The crabs, unfortunately, were too small to fully appreciate his gargantuan, mythic shift. He might as well have been another building for all the interest they showed him, but by that same token they couldn't see an easy way around his blocking tentacles. The initial wave of would-be escapees paused on the threshold of freedom as a rubbery appendage formed a wall where a moment before they had seen a door. After some wavering they finally scuttled back to rejoin the main body of their brethren as the first large wave continued to roll down the street towards the shore.
Which left Hadama and Nova to keep the townsfolk at bay. The King was not above wielding his authority to simply order people back. He knew better than to leave Nova to her own devices for long, however. and he stayed close enough to listen to her stream of consciousness as it slipped from her lips without pause or filter. He nodded solemnly at her mention of making it an official holiday, wordless agreement rumbling from his throat. "Next year," he promised during a break for her to breathe, though next year the migration would hopefully be back to its usual, far more diminished numbers. It was her mention of crab 'races,' however, that made him pause and turn to look at her with new respect in his eyes. "That... is a very good idea," he concurred slowly. "And it is not too late this year. The day is still early." Despite what the caffeinated young Marin might think!
"Let us set up some stations along the route. I will gather the bookies," he added, emerald eyes gleaming with amusement for just what those bookies would think of being roused from their beds by the King of the Merfolk. For a new gambling opportunity, no less! "We will need someone to find some tables. Another to collect paint. And someone to spread the word." It might not spread as far this year, but everyone involved in cheering their crab on would help to keep others from 'interfering' in the migration by trying to hop the barricades!
Round 3: Make several crab painting stations along the migration route!
1. Find/make/steal some small tables to set behind the barricades at several alleys to create crab racing stations.
2. Find/barter/steal some small cans of paint in several colors to distribute to the stations.
3. Start spreading the word to drum up interest in Torchline's newest community service betting opportunity!
Remi in his kraken form was a terrifying enough sight that most people would have avoided him by fleeing in panic if they weren't at least somewhat used to their former Governor's quirks. The crabs, unfortunately, were too small to fully appreciate his gargantuan, mythic shift. He might as well have been another building for all the interest they showed him, but by that same token they couldn't see an easy way around his blocking tentacles. The initial wave of would-be escapees paused on the threshold of freedom as a rubbery appendage formed a wall where a moment before they had seen a door. After some wavering they finally scuttled back to rejoin the main body of their brethren as the first large wave continued to roll down the street towards the shore.
Which left Hadama and Nova to keep the townsfolk at bay. The King was not above wielding his authority to simply order people back. He knew better than to leave Nova to her own devices for long, however. and he stayed close enough to listen to her stream of consciousness as it slipped from her lips without pause or filter. He nodded solemnly at her mention of making it an official holiday, wordless agreement rumbling from his throat. "Next year," he promised during a break for her to breathe, though next year the migration would hopefully be back to its usual, far more diminished numbers. It was her mention of crab 'races,' however, that made him pause and turn to look at her with new respect in his eyes. "That... is a very good idea," he concurred slowly. "And it is not too late this year. The day is still early." Despite what the caffeinated young Marin might think!
"Let us set up some stations along the route. I will gather the bookies," he added, emerald eyes gleaming with amusement for just what those bookies would think of being roused from their beds by the King of the Merfolk. For a new gambling opportunity, no less! "We will need someone to find some tables. Another to collect paint. And someone to spread the word." It might not spread as far this year, but everyone involved in cheering their crab on would help to keep others from 'interfering' in the migration by trying to hop the barricades!
Round 3: Make several crab painting stations along the migration route!
1. Find/make/steal some small tables to set behind the barricades at several alleys to create crab racing stations.
2. Find/barter/steal some small cans of paint in several colors to distribute to the stations.
3. Start spreading the word to drum up interest in Torchline's newest community service betting opportunity!
